Archive of Our Own

Where no sea runs

The waters of the heart pull in their tides

And broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads

Things of light

File through flesh where no flesh decks the bone

‘Dawn breaks where no light is’ by Dylan Thomas

The trial was short; no one spoke for her. Not even her ‘husband’, whose husbandly duties had consisted of imprisoning and raping her. When a man kills in self-defense it is counted self-defense. When a woman does it it is something horrific; a crime against nature.

She had killed twice. Once trapped her into captivity, twice sentenced her to execution. Well, she thought, keeping her head high. She would be judged in Diyu, as they all would be. Perhaps the gods would let her next reincarnation be retribution for all that had been done to her.

But Wen Ruohan was a man who enjoyed cruelty, and the death he ordered condemned not just the flesh, but the soul: the fall into the Burial Mounds would break her body; the resentful energy there would trap her soul. And she would writhe in torment in that cursed place until someone came to seek vengeance for all the spirits trapped there.

Perhaps the story would have been different if they’d known what grew inside of her. Perhaps it would just have been delayed.

. . .

The judgment was carried out swiftly, on the same day as the trial. She clawed at her captors as they let her go, even succeeded in dragging one down with her. Bleeding out on the ground the spirits came to investigate her dying body, to nibble at her flesh, to greet their new sister. And inside of her they found something unexpected, something just beginning but already blossoming with qi. Something they could nurture.

. . .

The Wen caught up with Wei Ying in Yiling, that awful place, every street of the crumbling city haunted with the memories of childhood, of hunger, cold, terror. He was weaker than he’d maybe ever been, exhausted from the harrowing surgery, the bandaged wound on his abdomen, from not knowing how to live without qi pooling in his belly and giving him a body that was more than flesh.

He’d relied on it for everything, he realized, like you relied on an arm or a leg. Balance and movement and oh, probably even breathing. It had healed sore muscles before he’d even felt them, had calmed his mind before he knew he was getting upset, had soothed him to sleep before he’d noticed the insomnia.

Now without it he felt even less than mundane; at least ordinary people knew how to live. The loss was sharp and constant, took up all the space in his head. He could hardly walk in a straight line, found himself reaching for it and reaching for it and reaching for it, zoning out in the middle of conversations, losing his way when only walking a block.

Wei Ying understood Jiang Cheng so much more now, understood that his grief hadn’t just been for his parents or his position but for himself.

It consoled Wei Ying that his golden core was now part of Jiang Cheng. It was not lost; it hadn’t been dissipated into the qi of the world, but was still serving a purpose, seated inside his brother. It would keep him strong, keep him and Jiang Yanli alive. A part of him would be there with them even when the rest of him was lost.

He consoled himself with that when the Wen caught him and when they beat him. He looked down into the Burial Mounds before they threw him in and wondered if the part of his soul that went down to Diyu when Jiang Cheng died would be enough so he could be reincarnated. Would it be enough that he’d be able to live another life with his parents, that he could be reborn to be a brother again to Jiang Cheng and Shijie? He closed his eyes and hoped for that as he felt himself falling.

There was no pain comparable to hitting the ground and splitting open, bones shattered, organs rent, red blood spilling across the gray, tainted ground. He waited for his qi to knit together what was broken, before remembering that he had lost it. He could feel the warmth of the blood trickling out of him, warm and soothing where everything else was painful and cold. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open; perhaps there was nothing to see here, in this graveyard of bones.

With his last breaths he prayed for the safety of his family, that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli might make it through the war unscathed and then he waited for death to come and ease his pain. Perhaps he would like being a hungry ghost. Maybe he could sneak down to Yiling and play pranks on the living. Maybe he could haunt Wen Chao in small malicious ways.

Something brushed up against him. Something warm and soft. Was this how a soul was stolen away? With a gentle touch. Or– more likely– it was a rat, come to gnaw the flesh from his bones. Please wait until I’m dead to eat me, he thought, panicked. It will only be a minute.

You will be less interesting when you are dead, a voice whispered back, in his head. It was slow and deep and oddly formal. It was curious, prodding at his mind, slipping tendrils down the length of his limbs. What an odd rat.

I will taste better, if you wait, I promise, he lied. Bargaining with rats– he was back to where he’d been as a child, begging for the least thing.

I am not a rat. The tendrils wrapped around his limbs and pulled the jagged ends of his bones together. Wei Ying would have screamed if his lungs had any breath left. More wiggling things touched him, wrapped around his spilled organs. Worms, he thought, wildly. Not rats. Who knew they had worms so large?

Not a worm, the voice said. The worms began to rearrange his organs. Somehow the pain was more intense than getting split open had been.

Oh, the voice said, full of wonder. You are in pain. Something slithered inside of his mind and suddenly the pain was gone, though he could still feel the worms manipulating his organs and his bones, slithering deep inside him.

What are you doing? Wei Ying demanded. All the peace of being about to die was gone. He tried to sit up, to pull the thing out of him, but movement made the pain flare up again.

There is an empty space here, the voice said placidly, as if Wei Ying had not just screamed. You’re missing something.

Please, Wei Ying found himself begging. Let me die in peace.

Die?! the voice exclaimed. I do not wish you to die.

Too bad, Wei Ying thought, almost smugly. I’m going to anyway.

The strange slithering feeling suddenly spread through his body, up into his torso, his arms, his head, down through his legs. All the points of pain throbbed and then died. The absence of pain felt like lighting a lantern in a dark room; suddenly everything seemed clear and bright.

The slithering intensified until he felt impossibly full, as if he were about to burst out of his skin, and then the pressure and the movement ceased.

He waited for a long moment, but his body was still. He opened his eyes.

The land around him was murky and gray, full of twisted, stunted trees, thick fog and odd shapes it took him a while to realize were bodies. Dessicated, picked-over skeletons, covered in tattered scraps of silk and leather, the remaining scraps of skin shriveled and twisted, gray weathered bone showing through.

Tentatively he sat up, expecting some kind of twinge or ache, but there was nothing. He looked down at his abdomen; his robes had come undone and hung open over his chest. His skin was covered in drying blood and his robes were soaked in it, but when he touched his belly he could hardly feel the remains of the scar.

No broken bones, no split skin, no sign of the agony he had just gone through.

He was… whole. More than whole– recovered.

The empty place inside him wasn’t empty anymore; a warm weight filled his lower dantian just like it had always done.

But.

His golden core was still gone. Tentatively he reached inside himself, felt for his qi, but instead of the quick, hot lightness zipping along his meridians, something cool and slow flowed within him. It was like finding water where you expected to find light. If that made any kind of sense.

He sketched a talisman in the air, and instead of coming out yellow as it had before it came out black, the quick strokes dripping as if he’d drawn on the air with a brush too loaded down with ink.

He looked at his hand, bewildered. Perhaps he had died. Or he was still lying on the ground and bleeding out and this was some kind of hallucination?

You are not dead, the voice said, or hallucinating. Wei Ying startled. He’d almost forgotten about it in the surprise of finding himself alive. Now he remembered the whole thing; the worms twisting inside of him, the sudden cessation of pain.

“You…” Wei Ying paused. “What are you?”

Silence. Then, finally. I do not know.

“Are you a ghost?”

I was not born, the voice said. And so I can not die. I cannot be a ghost.

Wei Ying put his hand on his stomach. You’re inside of me, he said. It wasn’t a question.

Yes, the voice said. You are interesting. I am bored.

There was a tickle in his brain. He suddenly found himself thinking of Lotus Pier, about swimming in the river at night with Jiang Cheng and the other disciples. He was caught in the memory for a long moment until the cawing of a distant bird brought him back to himself. How strange to have lost himself like that. Why had he been thinking of those long-ago days?

Are you looking through my memory?

You are interesting, the voice repeated. Many things have happened to you. I am curious.

“Don’t!” Wei Ying exclaimed, out loud. “Those are personal!”

There was a faint sense of amusement. I am inside of your body, the voice finally said. There is nothing more personal than that.

“I didn’t invite you in,” Wei Ying groused.

Do you wish me to leave? The voice was still amused. I have not finished healing your body. I do not doubt you would die.

“At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

You wouldn’t be able to get revenge either. Don’t you want revenge? They killed your family and burned your home and threw you in here. I can help you.

He felt a hunger, a yawning hunger, an empty pit that seemed like it could not be filled.

“Why would you help me?” Wei Ying asked.

Because you are interesting.

It was a lie. Wei Ying could not tell how he knew, but he did. If the thing was in his mind, he must have been in its mind as well. Its emotions tainted him; it wanted revenge, craved it more than Wei Ying had ever craved anything. A vast fury burned within it, a longing to hurt those who had harmed its… Wei Ying could not tell. Someone dear.

This strange parasite had someone dear, he realized with surprise. He looked around, as if he might understand more, but the wasteland still only held rotting bodies.

Did it matter? It was not wrong; he wanted revenge. The Wen had burned his home and made Jiang Cheng and Shijie suffer. They had forced him and Jiang Cheng to go to their indoctrination and suffer humiliation and abuse. They were terrorizing everyone in the Jianghu, from nobles to peasants. They’d burned down Cloud Recesses where the Lan had generously taken them in to teach them, for all that Wei Ying had hated it. If they were not stopped, many more would suffer as Wei Ying had.

Yes, he wanted to destroy the Wen so no one could hurt Jiang Cheng or Shijie ever again.

And this thing, whatever it was, had offered to help.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said, and he felt a surge of triumph he knew was not his own.

. . .

There was no question if they should stay in the Burial Mounds, not with the dried-out corpses littering the ground, more bones than stones strewn about, the resentful energy a miasma in the air.

“How do we leave?” Wei Ying asked and felt the voice pause inside of him.

I have never left, it admitted, and Wei Ying felt something like fear run through him.

“There must be a way out,” Wei Ying said, squinting up at the sky. It was late in the day, but the fog of the resentment was so thick he couldn’t make out the sun. Instead he climbed up the nearest hill, fighting through thickets of twisted trees and brambles that sliced through Wei Ying’s clothes but somehow not his skin.

From the top of the hill he looked out on the land, trying to match the tall hills to his vague memories of Yiling. Finally he saw a spark of silver he thought must be the river. “We’ll go that way,” he declared and headed down the slope, trying not to slip on the loose dirt and cut himself on sharp rocks or the jagged ends of protruding bones.

If he’d had his qi he could have felt the land around him, felt the movement of energy as it flowed around the hills. He reached inside of himself for it over and over and found it gone again and again. The creature’s dark, heavy mass was there, but it was a strange substitute.

Hungry, the voice complained.

“We’ll buy food when we get to Yiling,” Wei Ying began, but then remembered he didn’t have any money, and looking the way he did there was no way the proprietors of the tea houses would believe he was affiliated with Jiang Sect. He could only hope that Jiang Cheng would still be waiting for him.

We do not need to wait, the voice said and suddenly something shot out of him, a stream of black like the talisman he’d tried to draw earlier, wrapping around a magpie sitting on the branch of a nearby tree and pulling it back towards him with the force of a released bowstring.

Wei Ying ducked as the bird hurtled towards him, only for something black to rise up– out of his skin?!– and swallow the bird whole.

He sat down on the ground heavily, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Only a few floating feathers proved it had happened at all.

“What the fuck,” he said. “What the fuck.” He picked up one of the fallen feathers. “What the fuck.”

A feeling in his head, like a nudge.

I am sorry I did not save any for you, the voice said, after a minute.

Wei Ying closed his eyes. “I don’t eat raw birds.”

A pause. What do you eat?

“Cooked things,” Wei Ying said. “Uh, usually.”

A fluttering sensation in his head.

Ah. Soup.

A few minutes passed. Wei Ying didn’t move.

“What was that?” he asked, finally.

What precisely?

Wei Ying swallowed. “The, uh, the tendril?”

A strange tickling sensation on his arm, like a very cold feather brushing it, then something inky black rose out of his wrist, long and thin.

“That’s.” Wei Ying swallowed again. “That’s you? And the… was that your head?”

The tendril grew and another sprouted out of him and another and another until he must have resembled a porcupine or a jellyfish.

Wei Ying stared at the tendrils for a long time, then he sighed. “I knew you were…” He trailed off. He didn’t know what it was at all.

“Not human,” he said, finally. “But I didn’t know you could do this. What else can you do?”

I do not know. I have not had much opportunity to do anything.

Wei Ying nodded and the head dissolved back into the skin of his arm. Wei Ying tried not to think about that, instead pulled himself to his feet.

“What should I call you?” he asked, as he resumed pushing himself through the twisted forest.

The voice was silent for a moment. My mother wished to call me Lan Zhan, it said.

An odd name for a creature apparently made of ink, but okay. “You said you weren’t born.”

I was not.

Wei Ying waited, but Lan Zhan didn’t elaborate, so he continued making his way down the hill, through the brush.

. . .

It had come on morning when he– they?– arrived in Yiling. He could feel Lan Zhan inside of him fascinated at all the sights of the city and kept finding his head jerked this way and that. The fact that the thing could control his body made shivers shoot down his spine. Irritated, he ducked into an alleyway.

Stop that!

What are you referring to?

You’re controlling my body. Don’t.

Silence. Then: I will not control your body unless entirely necessary.

You will not control my body at all!

What if you are unconscious?

The thought of the thing controlling his body, wearing Wei Ying like a skin suit while he was unaware, horrified him so much he tasted bile in the back of his throat. “Don’t control my body when I’m unconscious!” he exclaimed, too loudly. Several passersby looked at him and whispered to each other.

What if the room you are in is on fire?

“Then wake me up!”

What if you will not wake?

Wei Ying took a deep breath. Do not control my body unless you have to to keep me alive.

Lan Zhan took a long moment to answer. I will not.

It felt honest. Wei Ying took another breath. Not that he’d have any control over it if it wasn’t.

He closed his eyes. Lan Zhan had saved his life. He could find a way to live with this.

. . .

Jiang Cheng was waiting at the tea house they’d agreed to meet at. Wei Ying breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of his shidi sitting on the other side of the tea house, grumpily ordering something from the waiter.

What is this? Lan Zhan asked.

This is a tea house. This is where you get food and tea. We are here to meet my shidi, Jiang Cheng.

He felt Lan Zhan regarding Jiang Cheng through his eyes, suspicious, but did his best to ignore it. Instead he exclaimed “Jiang Cheng!” and strode across the tea house to him, ignoring the annoyed looks from the other patrons at his exuberance and the state of his clothing.

Jiang Cheng, who would have ordinarily scolded him, jumped up instead and wrapped his arms around him. “It worked!” he exclaimed, pulling back so he could look Wei Ying in the face. “Baoshan Sanren healed my golden core!”

He rested a hand proudly on his lower abdomen.

“That’s wonderful!” Wei Ying exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, trying not to think about the three-day surgery, the feeling of having his golden core extracted from him strand by agonizing strand.

This one is causing you pain, Lan Zhan muttered inside his skull. We should eat him.

Do not eat Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying ordered firmly.

He stole a part of you.

He doesn’t know.

Wei Ying tried to push away Lan Zhan’s feeling of shock, instead sitting down. “I’m out of money,” he said in his most wheedling of voices. “Buy me lunch, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng automatically looked at him with annoyance. “What did you do with your spending money? You’re always so thoughtless with it,” he said, like he’d said a thousand times, but then his eyes widened. “Wei Wuxian! What happened to you?”

Wei Ying shrugged one shoulder. He’d been wondering if Jiang Cheng would notice. “Had a little run in with the Wen,” he explained.

“Where?” Jiang Cheng demanded. “How could you let them hurt you? There’s blood all over you! Wei Wuxian, are you injured?”

“No, no, no,” Wei Ying said. It wasn’t even a lie this time. “I’m fine, really, Jiang Cheng. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jiang Cheng eyed him suspiciously. He lifted a hand, drawing the attention of the proprietor. “Bring lunch–” he named a few dishes, “– and we’ll take a room for the night. Can you set up a bath? And send someone out to buy some clean robes for my shige?”

The proprietor bowed and said “Of course, gongzi.”

“I’m not your shige any longer,” Wei Ying said softly.

“What?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“You’re my zongzhu now,” Wei Ying reminded him. “I’m your disciple.”

Jiang Cheng gave him an annoyed look. “You will always be my shige,” he said. He poured a cup of wine and slid it over to Wei Ying, who looked at it with appreciation. After the events of the last… year… he really needed some wine.

He took a deep swallow and then found himself spitting it out across the table and onto Jiang Cheng.

“What the hell?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

What the hell? Wei Ying demanded.

It was toxic, Lan Zhan replied, calmly.

It wasn’t toxic, it was wine! Wei Ying argued.

Wine? Lan Zhan asked, then Wei Ying felt that flickering sensation again. You voluntarily drink poison?

It’s not poison!

It is clearly poison.

Well, it makes me feel good– Someone shook his shoulder and Wei Ying looked up, suddenly realizing he’d been so fixated on his argument with Lan Zhan he’d forgotten to pay attention. Jiang Cheng had a hand on his shoulder, staring at him while a maid mopped up the mess of spit-up wine.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“Ah,” Wei Ying paused, trying to think of an excuse. “A cough. I coughed at the wrong time.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at him.

“I apologize,” Wei Ying said, to him and to the maid, who gave him a shy look, picked up her bowl of water and cloth, bowed and scurried off.

“Something’s up with you,” Jiang Cheng pressed.

“I’m just tired.” Wei Ying feigned a yawn. “Didn’t get much sleep last night, with my run-in with the Wen and everything.”

“Those Wen dogs,” Jiang Cheng hissed. He leaned forward. “I heard rumors they’re trying to take over Yiling. Just waltzing in here and pretending they’ve owned it the whole time! We should find them and grind them into the dirt.”

Revenge, Lan Zhan whispered in his head, sounding disturbingly blood-thirsty.

There are only two of us, Wei Ying replied.

This one will help, Lan Zhan said, not realizing Wei Ying had been referring to him and Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying thought of Lan Zhan killing the magpie and swallowed, wondering how much damage they could do.

He wanted revenge– wanted vengeance. And if Wen Chao was here– he’d wanted to take him down for years. But Lan Zhan’s power was untested, and Wei Ying didn’t know how much his own may have changed.

“No,” Wei Ying said. “You’re still recovering and there are only two of us. We need to regroup,” he continued, ignoring the hiss of displeasure Lan Zhan let out at being excluded. “We asked the remaining Jiang disciples and Yanli to meet us at Qinghe. We should go there and speak with Nie Zongzhu. Surely he’ll lend us troops. Maybe we can go to Cloud Recesses and retake it– even if they don’t have enough disciples to lend to the campaign, the Wen can’t have ransacked all of their supplies in such a short time.”

The name ‘Cloud Recesses’ seemed to have some effect on Lan Zhan, but Wei Ying didn’t have the attention to spare for him.

Jiang Cheng hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed. “It’s better to be prudent.” He rested a hand on Wei Ying’s shoulder. “This is why I always need you by my side.”

The happiness Wei Ying felt at this was countered by the anger roiling off of Lan Zhan.

You are mine! Lan Zhan shouted in his head. Not his!

Wei Ying couldn’t help twitching but he prevented himself from replying, only smiled back at Jiang Cheng. Still, he was relieved when the food came.

. . .

The bath was heavenly. No– the bath would have been heavenly had he not been carrying a passenger like a fucking sedan chair. A passenger who seemed fascinated by every aspect of Wei Ying’s body, curiously poking at his nipples with a tendril and asking What are these for?, before entertaining themself by tugging on Wei Ying’s few chest hairs, trying to straighten them. And all of that was nothing compared to their interest in Wei Ying’s genitals, batting his cock a few times before slipping his foreskin up and down, revealing the head of his cock, which was, appallingly, beginning to get hard, then trying to smooth out the skin of his sack.

“Stop that,” he said, pulling the tentacle away.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asked, on the other side of the screen. “You need something?”

“Nope!” Wei Ying called back, grabbing the tentacle again when it started to head down again. “Absolutely not.”

What is this? Lan Zhan asked. They slid another tentacle out of his inner thigh, trying to sneak it over to touch Wei Ying’s balls.

They are personal, private organs, Wei Ying snapped at him. Do not touch.

They seem very vulnerable, Lan Zhan said, consideringly. Especially because they are so sensitive.

That’s why we wear clothes.

I thought that was because your skin is so fragile.

Yes, precisely, fragile skin, sensitive parts, so you shouldn’t touch them.

Wei Ying sped up his bathing, rubbing a rough cloth over his dirty skin until the water turned brown. He made a face at it. He should have gone to the bath house where he could have rinsed off first. He hadn’t even gotten to his hair.

“You’re taking a long time in there,” Jiang Cheng observed.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes and considered whether or not he wanted to rinse his hair in the dirty water, then gave in and began to mentally prepare himself to submerge himself in the murk, but when he looked down at the water again it was clean.

“What?” he asked, out loud.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jiang Cheng called back.

“I was just talking to myself,” Wei Ying said.

I cleaned the water, Lan Zhan told him, proudly.

How? Wei Ying asked.

I absorbed the dirt into myself.

Which meant all the murk in the water was now inside Wei Ying’s body. All the dirt from the Burial Mounds, all of his dried blood… He pressed his lips together and forced himself to keep from throwing up.

Why does that make you sick? Lan Zhan asked.

Where did it all go?

I told you– I absorbed it. The nutrients we will share and the waste I deposited into your waste organ. There was already some waste in it– I did not think it would distress you to add to it.

Wei Ying had no idea how he felt about that. But the water was clean, no matter how it had gotten that way. He submerged himself, stroking his hands through his long locks, dislodging bits of leaves and dirt and matted blood. He felt Lan Zhan humming inside of him, their tendrils emerging through his skin. Absorbing more of the waste, he assumed. He tried not to be curious about what his next shit would look like. Would there be pebbles in it? Or was that something that contained nutrients? Were leaves something Lan Zhan could break down into nutrients?

He was still musing when he stepped out of the bath and dried himself off, wrapping his hair in a cloth to dry it faster before slipping on the sleeping robe the maid had brought.

“Took you long enough,” Jiang Cheng said, stepping behind the screen when Wei Ying entered the main room. “I’m guessing the water is too dirty for me too…” he stopped. He must have been looking down at the clear water. “What the fuck?” He stuck his head out from behind the screen and looked at Wei Ying, who had sat down beside the fire and begun to comb through his hair.

“I invented a talisman to clear water,” Wei Ying lied.

Jiang Cheng didn’t question it, even though there was no talisman in sight.

. . .

They went to bed soon after the baths, even though it was early. Wei Ying had claimed he was tired earlier, after all, and Jiang Cheng must still have been adjusting to his new core. Wei Ying’s core. What an odd thing to think. When he had been going to die he had been glad he gave it away, but now he couldn’t help but think a little possessively about it.

It is good you gave it to him, Lan Zhan whispered in his head. I could not have occupied you if you had still had it.

Why not? Wei Ying wondered.

You would not have had an empty space inside of you.

You could have occupied him, Wei Ying said, although that was hard to imagine.

I prefer you, Lan Zhan said, smugly. Tendrils crept out of Wei Ying’s skin and began to wrap themselves around him. Wei Ying couldn’t tell if they were meant to be binding him or if it was supposed to be a hug.

You don’t know, Wei Ying said. You’ve only been inside of my head. Perhaps if you tried being inside of his head…

No! Lan Zhan exclaimed, the tendrils wrapping tighter. You are perfect for me. I already know.

Okay, Wei Ying gave in because he was a little nervous about the tendrils tightening even further.

The tendrils loosened after a moment, began to stroke softly along his flesh, his arms, his chest, his thighs. Wei Ying felt his cock start to stiffen again. Fuck.

Lan Zhan poked at his arousal. What is that?

Wei Ying tried to think of disgusting things. The food they’d served in Cloud Recesses, the fish he’d caught that were infected with parasites, the times he’d been punished by having to clean out bedpans from the elders’ rooms at Lotus Pier…

The disgusting thoughts did their work and he felt the arousal vanish with a feeling of relief.

Relief from himself, but disappointment from Lan Zhan.

We have to sleep, Wei Ying told him.

What is sleep? Lan Zhan asked, but they were already rifling through Wei Ying’s head. They came away with a spark of alarm. Nothing? Hours of blackness and nothing?

Wei Ying thought about all the times he’d been happy to go to bed, tired and sore, the feeling of getting up in the morning well rested, of how tired he felt when he hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

It is necessary.

What if you’re attacked?

We will not be attacked. We’re in an inn.

I will keep watch for you, Lan Zhan assured him.

As long as you let me sleep, I don’t care what you do, Wei Ying said, wrapping the quilt more tightly around himself and trying to sleep.

. . .

“What the hell, Wei Wuxian?” Wei Ying cracked an eye open to see Jiang Cheng looming over him, scowling. He smiled. He’d been afraid he’d never get his cranky, uptight shidi back.

“What?” he croaked. Oh, he didn’t feel right. Sleeping was supposed to make him less tired.

“What did you do?” Jiang Cheng’s hands were on his hips. Classic Jiang Cheng pose. Wei Ying allowed himself to feel fond for a moment before turning his attention to whatever the hell he was going on about, and then he sat bolt upright. The floor was smeared with blood and mud and… chicken feathers?

“Why are you blaming me?” he asked. It was not a whine.

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at Wei Ying’s sleeping robe. Wei Ying looked down.

“Fuck. What the fuck did you do?” he demanded, wiping uselessly at the blood and mud smeared on the robe.

“I didn’t do anything!” Jiang Cheng replied. “You’re the one who’s…”

Wei Ying raised a hand. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

You said you did not care what I did, Lan Zhan said, voice petulant.

“What do you mean you weren’t talking to me?”

“I said you couldn’t take over my body!” Wei Ying exclaimed.

“What?!”

You should have been more clear.

“Wei Wuxian, who are you talking to?”

“Oh my gods,” Wei Ying muttered, brushing a chicken feather off of his robes. “How the hell are we going to explain this?”

“Well, first you’re going to explain it to me,” Jiang Cheng ordered.

Wei Ying looked up at him and winced. “Maybe I could wash this blood off of me first.” He began to get up.

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and stared at him.

Wei Ying sat back down on the bed. Oh gods, the quilt was covered in mud and blood and feathers as well. They were going to get run out of Yiling.

“I, uh…” He swallowed. “When I was captured by the Wen. I… they overpowered me and threw me into the Burial Mounds.”

“They what?!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

“There were too many of them.” Wei Ying was aware he was whining now. “And I was so tired…”

Jiang Cheng scrubbed his face. “But no one gets out of the Burial Mounds alive,” he said.

“Ah, well, I had help,” Wei Ying said. “They… well, um…” he sighed. “Lan Zhan, would you show him?”

The black tendril emerged from his skin again, a long thin one with a large blob on the end that Wei Ying couldn’t help but see as an imitation of a head.

“Their name is Lan Zhan,” he said. “They’re kind of… um… living inside of me?”

“What. The. Fuck,” Jiang Cheng said, much calmer than Wei Ying had been expecting, but that might have just been the shock.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without them– they healed like twenty broken bones? But I guess they can move my body without my permission? But I told them not to and they promised, but then I guess they went out and ate some chickens.”

I was hungry, Lan Zhan pouted.

Wei Ying covered his face.

There was a thump. He lifted his hand to see Jiang Cheng sitting on the floor, staring at the tentacle.

“It’s living inside of you?” he repeated.

Are they stupid? Lan Zhan asked. They seem like they are stupid.

He’s in shock!

Wei Ying made a face at Jiang Cheng. “I can feel them rippling inside of my body. It’s kind of… unsettling.”

Lan Zhan was very unhappy at this description.

It’s hard to get used to not being the only inhabitant of your body, he told them.

“Are you…” Jiang Cheng paused. “... talking to them?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying admitted. “In my head.”

“So they can talk?”

Wei Ying nodded.

Jiang Cheng sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Only you,” he said.

“Rude.”

“Maybe you should have a talk with them about subtlety,” Jiang Cheng suggested. “The other Sects cannot find out about this. Gods, they’ll do cleansing rituals on you or something. Imagine if Lan Qiren heard about this?”

“He’d lock me up and play Cleansing until my ears bled.”

Lan Qiren? Lan Zhan asked, with a tremble of some emotion Wei Ying couldn’t name.

“The grandmaster of the Lan Sect,” Wei Ying explained.

Jiang Cheng gave him a look.

“They wanted to know who Lan Qiren was.”

The Lan Sect? Lan Zhan asked, darkly. Rage– that’s what it was.

Was Lan Zhan related to the Lan Sect somehow? Lan was a fairly common name…

Jiang Cheng raised his eyebrows.

“They’re very angry at the thought of the Lan Sect,” Wei Ying said. “I don’t know why.”

Suddenly a barrage of images assaulted him. A young woman being… Wei Ying imagined shoving the images away as hard as possible.

A shriek. Wei Ying opened his eyes to see black ink fly out of him and pool on the floor. He covered his mouth with his hand. He felt so strangely empty. Hollow.

“I’m sorry,” he said without thinking, reaching out his hand. The pool of ink pressed away from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “You took me by surprise– I didn’t… you have to warn me. You can’t just keep doing things. We have to talk about them first.”

He reached out his hand a little further and Lan Zhan snaked up a tendril and wrapped it around his wrist, then they were seeping back into Wei Ying’s flesh, slipping up his arm and filling that empty place inside of him again.

Jiang Cheng watched this all with a skeptical expression, the one he got when Wei Ying told him a plan that he thought was wildly stupid, which was, well, often.

Instead of the startling vision he’d been shown before, a soft memory crept into Wei Ying’s head: a woman speaking as if to a child, telling him about how the Lan Sect had captured her and kept her imprisoned. “I escaped for you,” she whispered. “I escaped so you’d be free.”

Oh, Wei Ying thought. You’re human. Or you were once, or were meant to be…

Yes, Lan Zhan said. I was once meant to be.

“The Lan sect imprisoned their mother for years,” Wei Ying said. “Then she was accused of killing the sect leader and she was thrown in the burial mounds. Lan Zhan was… they weren’t born yet. Not born in the Burial Mounds meant they became… something different.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said, slowly. “I don’t like this.”

Wei Ying opened his mouth, but Jiang Cheng held up his hand. “I don’t like it, but they saved your life and you obviously… you want them around, so I won’t argue with you about it. But be careful.”

Oh, right. He was the sect leader. He could forbid things now.

“I’m always careful,” Wei Ying said.

Jiang Cheng snorted, then looked around at the wreck of the room. “Now, do you have any talismans to clean this up?”

“What the hell is this blood and mud? When I find out…” a voice was yelling in the hallway. The door slid open with a bang. They looked up to see the proprietor of the inn glaring at them.

. . .

“A tael,” Jiang Cheng said. “That cost me a whole fucking tael.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Wei Ying muttered.

“With what money, exactly? An entire tael of silver and we were trying to keep a low profile. A low profile– do you know what that means?”

“Yes, Jiang Cheng.”

“It means you don’t leave a trail of blood and mud and stolen chicken feathers to our room!”

“You don’t know that the chickens were stolen,” Wei Ying protested.

“Oh, did your friend buy them then? In the middle of the night? With what money?”

What is stealing? Lan Zhan asked.

Wei Ying sighed. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” He shifted a little, keeping his grip on Jiang Cheng’s waist. Sword flying with Jiang Cheng was never comfortable– it made Jiang Cheng self-conscious, which made him more likely to make mistakes– and he still hadn’t settled into his new– Wei Ying’s– core.

Maybe he never would, Wei Ying thought, meanly, and then chastised himself– that would make his sacrifice pretty meaningless. Still, he couldn’t find himself hoping that Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be as strong as he had been, even with his core.

You will be stronger than him now that you have me, Lan Zhan whispered to him. You still have not explained what stealing is.

“Look,” Wei Ying said. “Lan Zhan is like… like a new baby. They don't know the rules of society.”

“Like a new baby monster,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“Exactly,” Wei Ying said. “You can’t get mad at someone for breaking the rules– you have to teach them what the rules are.”

“Well you’d better start teaching,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “We’re going to be in Qinghe pretty soon and if Chifeng-zun gets even a sniff of something demonic you know he won’t hesitate.”

“Lan Zhan isn’t a demon!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “Don’t you remember the difference? Lan-laoshi bashed it into our heads enough.”

Wei Ying could feel Jiang Cheng rolling his eyes. “That’s not the point, Wei Ying. It doesn’t matter if it’s a demon or a ghost or a whatever– their reaction will be the same. First: eliminate. That’s it.”

“It’s first: appease,” Wei Ying said.

“For spirits, maybe,” Jiang Cheng said. “But not for you.”

Wei Ying pressed his lips tightly together. He hated that Jiang Cheng was right.

Why are you angry? Lan Zhan asked.

The world is not fair, Wei Ying said.

Even I knew this.

But I wish it to be.

Then you must change it.

Wei Ying laughed a little.

“What?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“The demon in my head,” Wei Ying said.

“See?” Jiang Cheng exclaimed. “That’s the kind of thing you can’t do.”

“Go around laughing? Saying ridiculous things?” Wei Ying laughed again. “No– that’s the kind of thing I absolutely have to do. If I’m going to fool anyone I have to be myself, don’t I? Light-hearted, foolhardy, untamable Wei Wuxian!”

“Oh gods,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “This is going to be a disaster.”

. . .

Nie Huaisang met them at the gates with an unstoppable tide of speech, covering everything that was known, suspected, rumored, gossiped about, speculated, conjectured, hoped, and proven untrue in the cultivation world as he showed them to the guest quarters assigned to the Jiang Sect. Wei Ying was relieved to see the surviving Jiang Sect members there, fifteen of his shixiongmei whole and healthy and mired in grief. He was also relieved to have access to a bathing house, a bed, and clean robes, promised to him by Nie Huaisang, who left in a whirlwind and a flutter of his fan to acquire ‘only the best clean robes for you, Wei-xiong!’

Wei Ying attended his duties as head disciple as best he could, comforting his shixiongmei, assuring them they’d rebuild the sect, Lotus Pier, that the Wen hadn’t destroyed them completely, until Huaisang came back with the robes and he didn’t feel too guilty escaping to the bathing house.

Lan Zhan was as curious about the Nie Compound as he’d been about everything else they’d encountered so far– curious about the naked bodies of the Nie sect members as they cleaned themselves and soaked in the baths or sat in the steam or rubbed oil into their skin and hair. Wei Ying answered question after question (and didn’t answer a good number of questions) and refused to let them look as long as they would like.

Then after clean robes and a trying meal eaten in the presence of the surviving Jiang sect members (one young shidi couldn’t stop sobbing long enough to eat) and he finally found peace in the room that had been billeted to him and Jiang Cheng.

“You’re not going to go wandering tonight, right?” Jiang Cheng asked him sharply.

“I didn’t do anything,” Wei Ying protested.

“Then your passenger– he’s not going to?”

Wei Ying sighed.

I will not– I promise.

“They promise they won’t,” Wei Ying said.

Jiang Cheng looked at him for a long time, as if considering tying him up, then nodded and accepted it.

. . .

Wei Ying couldn’t sleep that night, not with the heavy weight of Lan Zhan inside of him. He stood and took Jiang Cheng’s sword (not his rightful sword, Sandu, but the one he had been given by Wen Qing) and found his way in the dark to the training grounds.

He stood on the sand for a long moment, clearing his mind, then took in a deep breath, reaching for the power cycling inside of himself. Not the pure lightness of qi, but the strange thick flow of Lan Zhan in his meridians. Slower, heavier… still he breathed it in and out, in and out, until it seemed all the world was in tune with it, then he spun into the first form, mind blank except for the motion, the moves coming to him as smoothly and as steadily as waves come to the shore, thrust, parry, turn, block, sweep, duck, thrust… He pushed power through the sword as he went, sending glints off his blade as he did, testing how the power responded to him. Turn, duck, sweep, swing down, turn, thrust and turn…

There wasn’t anything but him and the sword, balanced, moving together. Him, the sword, and Lan Zhan, sending tendrils out to the tips of his fingers and the tips of his toes, learning his moves as he went, tendrils wrapping around his muscles, increasing the strength of every thrust, tendrils wrapped around his legs, increasing the stability of every stance.

He spun through the form once and then again and on a third pass-through, Lan Zhan began to emerge, moves of his own– kicks of strong limbs, swipes of sharp claws, piercing spikes emerging from Wei Ying’s fist, his elbow, his foot– counterbalancing his own, integrating into his forms seamlessly, until he felt like a whirlwind, sword and sheath and claw and spine.

He practiced until the sky started lightening with false dawn, then he went to the well to drink deeply and splash water over his face.

We will be unstoppable, Lan Zhan murmured in his head.

Yes, Wei Ying agreed, for some reason terrified at the idea. But you can’t come out like that unless there’s no one else about.

I know, Lan Zhan agreed, annoyed. I am not stupid.

You tracked blood and mud into the inn last night! Wei Ying exclaimed. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Lan Zhan was silent.

Wei Ying sighed and squinted at the roof of the guest house.

What are you doing? Lan Zhan asked as Wei Ying gathered his energy– the dark energy, not the qi he was used to–, and jumped up onto the roof, making sure to land on the roof pole rather than the fragile tiles.

He sat down and folded his legs under his robes and looked out over the Nie Sect compound. The pathways and courtyards were dimly lit by torches, but most of the windows were dark. Further away, in the fields where the Nie Sect had mustered their troops, he could see torches and the dying embers of campfires among the tents.

I’m sorry, he said.

He felt Lan Zhan’s presence rise up in his body, up from his lower dantian to his chest, felt him prickling with curiosity.

For what?

Before, with Jiang Chang– you asked questions I didn’t answer. If we are going to work together I should respect you.

Lan Zhan was silent for a moment. Yes.

If you ask your questions now I’ll answer them.

Another silence.

And then Lan Zhan began to ask so many questions that though they spoke until morning, Wei Ying couldn’t answer them all.

. . .

They met with Nie Mingjue and several of his generals that morning, around the map of Jianghu, covered in so many red markers it seemed impossible they could fight against the Wen.

“The first step should be taking back Cloud Recesses and Gusu,” Nie Mingue said, just as Wei Ying had anticipated. “It is the richest region and one of the largest sects. Will you lend your sect to it?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng said. “We owe a debt to Lan Laoshi for teaching us at the very least.”

“You will lead the operation,” Nie Mingjue said. “There are twenty Lan disciples here who came to me when they heard Cloud Recesses was taken– they can help you plan the attack. In addition, I will lend twenty of my own troops and, according to our alliance with the Jin, twenty of theirs.”

“The Jin are allying with us?” Wei Ying asked, surprised. He’d expected they’d retain neutrality until the very end.

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Jin Zongzhu is hesitant, but Jin Zixuan has convinced him.”

He turned to the map. “While you are planning your offensive, we will be strengthening our positions…”

. . .

I do not wish to assist the Lan, Lan Zhan complained as he and Jiang Cheng went down to the training grounds. It was after sunset– the grounds were empty, as they had hoped.

We must– we need their resources, Wei Ying replied. If we only ally with people we like we won’t win the war.

They were cruel to my mother, Lan Zhan reminded him.

Wei Ying stopped. Jiang Cheng looked back at him.

Your father was Lan zongzhu, Wei Ying said.

I do not care about my father! He was villainous.

But if your father was Lan zongzhu, it means your brother is Lan Xichen.

My father’s son, Lan Zhan said, scornfully.

But maybe your mother’s son as well, Wei Ying suggested. Did your mother ever mention him?

Lan Zhan was slow in responding. A child was stolen by them…

The Lans aren’t just your father’s sect, but your brother’s as well! He’s the Lan zongzhu now. If we release Cloud Recesses from Lan control, you’re helping your brother. Maybe you can get to know him as well? He is a kind and generous person.

Lan Zhan considered this. If he is my mother’s son…

Great! Wei Ying crowed. He looked up to see Jiang Cheng approaching with a pair of practice swords in his hand. He tossed one to Wei Ying. “Let’s see it then,” he said, and raised the sword to attack.

For a moment Wei Ying felt the synchronicity he had felt with Lan Zhan when they were doing forms and then a moment later it all fell apart. He tried to move in one direction– Lan Zhan reached out in the other. Lan Zhan’s tentacle wrapped around one of Wei Ying’s legs and a moment later he collapsed in a heap. Jiang Cheng stared down at him, bemused. “I would mock you if I hadn’t been counting on the wondrous skills you claimed you and your ghost had.”

Wei Ying sighed and rolled to his feet. “It was an accident. Let’s go again.” He scooped the practice sword up off the floor and took a stance.

Jiang Cheng considered him for a moment then took up his own stance.

The eighth time Wei Ying fell over he didn’t get up. Jiang Cheng walked over to him and stared down at him.

“I don’t understand!” Wei Ying exclaimed, frustrated. “We were so in sync!”

“During forms,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wei Ying glared up at him.

“Doing forms isn’t exactly like fighting,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wei Ying sat up. “I know that,” he groused.

“Would you expect to fight perfectly with someone the first time you ever trained together?” Jiang Cheng asked, squatting down to look Wei Ying in the eye.

“No,” Wei Ying admitted, sulkily.

“Then why did you think it would happen this time?”

“Because we’re in each other’s heads!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “We’re in the same body!”

“But you still have different minds.”

Wei Ying stabbed the practice sword into the dirt and used it to lever himself up. “We don’t have time to get good,” he moped.

Jiang Cheng was silent until Wei Ying turned to look at him. “You can access each other’s memories, right?”

Wei Ying nodded.

“Maybe that will help you understand how each other fights,” Jiang Cheng said. “It will at least give you a head start.”

Wei Ying spun the practice sword a few times, thinking. Lan Zhan had only shown him one memory and it had been horrible, too fast and too intense.

He caught a whiff of apology. I may be able to make it easier for you, Lan Zhan said.

You can access my memories, right? Wei Ying asked.

You told me not to.

Well, I guess you should, Wei Ying said. The ones about fighting anyway.

“If you’re going to do this you should go to your quarters,” Jiang Cheng interrupted. “So you’re not standing stock still in the practice field like a total weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo,” Wei Ying said.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

He wasn’t wrong. Wei Ying cleaned off the practice sword, put it away neatly, then headed back to the rooms that had been assigned to him and Jiang Cheng.

. . .

He didn’t enter the rooms; he jumped up on the roof instead, only his light steps keeping the tiles from breaking under the weight of his frustration.

Lan Zhan was curled up in his mind, as always, a humming thing, poking at bits of him, trying to understand.

But Wei Ying didn’t want to be understood. Wouldn’t that be like being flayed alive, all your thoughts and resentments and hopes and stupid dreams laid out there for someone to gobble up like a pig at a feast? His jealousies, the petty things he’d done, the times he’d sobbed to himself in the middle of the night, thinking of his lost parents. The way he kept himself from flinching away at the sight of every dog he came near. The way he hoarded food sometimes, even though he tried not to, still, in some corner of his mind, terrified of having an empty belly.

He didn’t want Lan Zhan to see these things, and Lan Zhan would see them, would read every pathetic thing Wei Ying thought in his pathetic little heart.

Lan Zhan soothed him, somehow. It felt like cool water running over his skin. There were no words, just a feeling of someone there, sitting with him.

I’ll never be alone, he thought. What a strange notion, that Lan Zhan would not run away when he saw who Wei Ying really was.

You did not run away when you saw me, Lan Zhan thought in his mind. And he thought: If you accept me, I will accept you. He didn’t know which of them had thought it, and that didn’t scare him as much as maybe it should.

. . .

Okay, he thought finally, let’s do this, and he slid down the roof and swung into the open windows of his quarters.

How will…?

Lie down on the bed, Lan Zhan suggested. So we do not have to concern ourselves with the body.

Wei Ying licked his lips and nodded and lay down on the bed. “Okay,” he said, and a moment later his mind was flooded with memories. Before Wei Ying, Lan Zhan had been something more dense than a cloud and less dense than a spill of ink. They’d survived on the small animals that had infested the Burial Mounds, living off of the flesh of the dead. At first the smallest things, the grubs and the worms, the carrion beetles that scuttered over the decaying corpses, the flies that laid their eggs under the peeling skin.

But as they grew, so did their skill with hunting, lashing out with tentacles to catch their prey. The rats that gnawed through bone for the marrow, the snakes that slithered in to feast on the rats.

They grew larger, faster, more wily. They caught a buzzard in a net of tentacles and evaded its beating wings. They caught wild cats and then wild dogs, taking out a pack of them with quick darts of their tentacles.

By the time Wei Ying had come along they had taken out thieves who had come to scavenge trinkets from the bodies of the dead, slipping up on them and tangling their ankles to trip them, then dodging the cuts of their knives and blows of their staves. They’d even taken on a group of cultivators, their spiritual swords burning them in a way nothing else did. Without size or leverage to rely on, and vulnerable to spiritual weapons, they had had to be sneaky and unpredictable, in a way that would have been unacceptable to the rest of the cultivation world. But Wei Ying had lived on the streets when he was a child, had done everything in his power to make sure he could eat. He knew better than to trust in the rigid notions of honor of men who had never experienced privation or hunger.

He opened his eyes to find himself sitting cross-legged on the meditation mat, one hand pressed to his lower dantian, where he could feel the weight of Lan Zhan curled up, warm and content inside of him, and knew Lan Zhan had viewed his memories and found them just as compelling as he had found Lan Zhan’s.

Instead of going out to train again, he stayed where he was, letting his mind drift, thinking up moves and stances that could combine both of their skills, Lan Zhan trickling over his thoughts and completing them until he wasn’t sure which were from him and which ones were from Lan Zhan.

. . .

Wei Ying woke feeling strange in his own skin. He stood, fascinated by the way his own muscles rippled, the movement of his joints. He stretched, twisted a little, tried to figure out what had changed.

Lan Zhan seeped out of his skin, twisted around his arm. He felt them yawn in his mind. What’s for breakfast? Images of dead rats flickered in the front of his mind.

Nope, Wei Ying thought back, sending an image of congee.

Ugh, Lan Zhan said with what sounded like a sigh. Plants again?

They’re the basis of most human diets, Wei Ying said. But perhaps I could find some meat.

Raw, Lan Zhan urged. Wei Ying could feel them peering through his eyes as he dressed, watching closely as he tied on his robes, then pulled up his hair into his guan.

Why are humans so particular about their clothing? they asked, as Wei Ying tied on his belt.

Only those who have money can afford to be particular, Wei Ying replied, thinking of when he had been a ragged orphan with no access to clean water to bathe in. The more money you have the more expensive garments you can afford. Only if you don’t have to work in the fields can you have light, smooth skin. It is to show wealth. He smoothed down the multiple silk layers of his outer robe.

You have wealth? Lan Zhan asked.

My zongzhu has wealth, Wei Ying corrected. I am only a valued servant. My clothes do not show my wealth but that of my sect.

Hm, Lan Zhan hummed. Do you want wealth? They thought of how they could easily take expensive things from the people around them and give them to Wei Ying. They thought of the silk brocades they had seen in the marketplace and on the backs of other wealthy young men. Lan Zhan showed Wei Ying an image of him dressed in a deep green fabric Wei Ying was pretty sure he’d seen Nie Huaisang wear the night before.

Thank you, but I have all I need, Wei Ying thought.

You would look good in green, Lan Zhan replied, mentally dressing Wei Ying in another outfit they’d seen– this one a gown in a woman’s style.

Wei Ying coughed in surprise. I’m fine with what I’m wearing.

Lan Zhan grumbled a little, shifting inside of Wei Ying like an annoyed cat.

I am not a cat, Lan Zhan said, annoyed.

You’re a little bit a cat, Wei Ying responded and the argument carried them to the dining hall.

“Wei-xiong! Wei-xiong!” a voice called. Wei Ying looked over to see a fan waving at him.

He smiled and strode over. “Nie-xiong,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“Oh!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, fanning himself. “It’s terrible, it’s just terrible. All these big, strong, handsome cultivators storming through the halls. They’re being so demanding, Wei-xiong! Everyone needs more space– everyone wants the food of their region. The food is too spicy for the Northerners, not spicy enough for the Westerners, why isn’t there any fish? I know it’s a horrible thing that happened to the Lan sect, really it is, but they’re demanding their bitter healthy food as well! We simply do not have the vegetables!”

He lowered his head and his voice. “I miss Yao-ge, I really do. He would have everything sorted just like that! Everything is a mess without him. I know he shouldn’t have killed that guard, really, but the man was such a boor, and now Yao-ge is gone, who knows where, and the place is a mess and now there are all these cultivators running around and no one knows where anything is and the laundry aunties refuse to do their work and I can’t figure out why and I wasn’t cut out for this, I really wasn’t.”

This is very boring, Lan Zhan said. Where’s the meat?

A server came and placed a variety of dishes before Wei Ying.

There’s fish, Wei Ying pointed out.

Mn. Lan Zhan was clearly unimpressed. It’s full of salt and something.

Vinegar, Wei Ying said. It’s pickled. He ate a piece and then had to keep Lan Zhan from spitting it out.

Why would you do this to perfectly good fish! Lan Zhan moaned.

To preserve it, Wei Ying said, probably too sensibly. This area is too dry for there to be much fish available.

Food should not be preserved! It should be eaten!

If people ate all the food as soon as they caught it or grew it what would they do when they couldn’t catch or grow any?

That’s not my problem, Lan Zhan complained.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes, then remembered that Nie Huaisang had still been talking to him and was now looking at him with a hurt expression.

“Not you,” he said, quickly. “Just remembering something Jiang Cheng said that was stupid.”

Jiang Cheng does say a lot of stupid things, Lan Zhan noted, unhelpfully.

Mollified, Nie Huaisang returned to his rant.

Lan Zhan grumbled the rest of the way through breakfast, even more irritated when Wei Ying engaged with Nie Huaisang, distracting him from his troubles by asking about his newest acquisitions (both of the fine art and the spring book variety).

. . .

When breakfast was over, Wei Ying snuck away to the secluded training grounds they’d been at before and took up a practice sword and he and Lan Zhan began to work on realizing the moves they’d come up with before. By the time Jiang Cheng found them Wei Ying was sweating and confident. He settled into a challenging stance and looked at his shidi.

“You figure it out?” Jiang Cheng asked, amused.

“Come here and find out,” Wei Ying taunted and grinned.

They disarmed Jiang Cheng in seconds and had him flat on the ground.

He spit out a mouthful of sand and jumped to his feet. “Good,” he said. “Again.”

They were both exhausted, returning to the guest quarters and heading directly for the baths. “You need to practice against groups of people,” Jiang Cheng said, hobbling up the steps of the bathhouse. “But we should keep this a secret as long as possible.”

Wei Ying followed him into the dressing rooms and stripped off his sweaty clothes. “Because you don’t want people to know I’m corrupted.”

I’m not corruption! Lan Zhan exclaimed in Wei Ying’s mind.

Jiang Cheng gave him a hard look. “Shut up,” he said. “Because Lan Zhan is going to be our secret weapon. It’s only good strategizing. You hear that, Lan Zhan? You don’t come out unless absolutely necessary.”

I don’t have to do what you say, Lan Zhan grumbled. Wei Ying ignored them.

“Our shixiongmei are trustworthy,” Wei Ying said.

Jiang Cheng sighed, going over to scrub off the worst of the sweat and dirt. “I’d like to think so, but is that realistic? The Wen have a lot more to offer than the Jiang sect. You don’t think there’s someone who sees the Jiang Sect as the losing proposition? Someone angry enough? My mother wasn’t an easy person to work for.”

Wei Ying looked at him hard. “You suspect someone?”

Jiang Cheng threw the cloth down. “I don’t know,” he said. “I… It’s a lot of responsibility and I’m not sure I can trust anyone. The Wen were our allies! And… how did Cloud Recesses get invaded? We let the Wen into our wards, but I can’t imagine the Lan did. Could the Wen really have broken through the ancestral wards?”

“I managed it,” Wei Ying muttered.

Because you’re the best, Lan Zhan commented.

You literally know nothing about my ward breaking abilities or those of anyone else, Wei Ying answered.

Still, Lan Zhan persisted.

“Yeah, but that’s you,” Jiang Cheng said. “The Wen don’t have anyone with your kind of skill.”

“Oh, thanks, shidi!” Wei Ying exclaimed, batting his eyes at him.

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng muttered, leading the way into the baths. He sunk into the hot water with a sigh.

This is very pleasant, Lan Zhan said. But where are the fish?

There aren’t any fish here.

“You think there was a traitor among the Lan?” Wei Ying whispered. They were on the other side of the room from a few elderly Jin sect members.

He felt Lan Zhan send out a small tendril. Stop that! he said.

I just want to catch the fish, Lan Zhan pouted.

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I just… I don’t know how to do this. Remember when we were kids and the idea of becoming the sect leader terrified me?”

There aren’t any fish in here. This is a bathhouse.

There’s a shiny thing over there, Lan Zhan said.

That’s a hairpin someone dropped, not a fish.

“And then I imagined my father would die of old age and the sect would be strong. I’m hardly an adult and Lotus Pier is destroyed and most of our sect members are dead and… How am I supposed to do this?”

I’m hungry. You only ate plants today.

If you’ll be patient we’ll get some meat after this, Wei Ying promised.

You said that before, Lan Zhan pouted.

He suddenly realized Jiang Cheng was looking at him morosely and scrambled to remember what his shidi had been saying. He put a reassuring hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I always promised I’d be your right hand man, didn’t I?”

Jiang Cheng leaned into his touch for a moment, then pulled away and straightened up in what Wei Ying was pretty sure was an attempt to seem manly.

Wei Ying smiled at him, then pulled himself out of the water.

“Leaving already?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“I promised Lan Zhan I’d find them some meat,” Wei Ying said. “Anyway, I’m not the one who got beat up today.”

“I didn’t get beat up!” Jiang Cheng protested as Wei Ying headed back into the changing room.

In his head he felt Lan Zhan’s smugness that Wei Ying was going to find him some meat instead of staying with Jiang Cheng.

Oh gods, he thought. Now my parasite is jealous.

I’m not a parasite, Lan Zhan replied.

What are you then?

Lan Zhan was silent for a moment. I’m like the insects with the flowers.

What?

The flowers feed the insects and the insects spread the pollen so the flowers can make seeds. They help each other.

How do you know that?

I had a lot of time to watch insects, Lan Zhan informed him. They’re very interesting. Especially ants. Sometimes ants take care of little green insects and then they eat the waste of the little green insects. They pushed an image of a group of ants surrounding a bunch of tiny green bugs. We’re like that too.

Are you the ant who eats shit or the tiny green bug? Wei Ying asked.

It’s not shit, Lan Zhan replied. It is a clear liquid and very sweet.

Wei Ying blinked. You tried it?

I was curious. The ants seem to like it very much. It is good, but there is not very much of it.

Wei Ying tried to imagine licking the fluid that bubbled out of the butts of the little green bugs and shivered. Eww.

Like you’re a good judge, Lan Zhan replied. You like to eat plants and drink poison.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes.

The green bugs eat the plants, Lan Zhan continued. They’re parasites on the plants but not parasites on the ants. I’m not a parasite because I help you.

Huh, Wei Ying thought.

We help each other, Lan Zhan clarified. In theory.

In theory?

You’re supposed to get me meat, Lan Zhan groused.

Wei Ying laughed. Hold your horses, he said. I’m going to ask Nie Huaisang about it now.

I don’t have any horses, Lan Zhan said, confused. If I had horses I wouldn’t complain about not having any meat.

Wei Ying smiled fondly even though Lan Zhan couldn’t see it. They must have felt it though, because Wei Ying felt an answering warmth in the back of his mind.

. . .

It took twenty minutes of wheedling to get Nie Huaisang to agree to provide Wei Ying with meat (so long because Nie Huaisang was bored, Wei Ying thought), and then he led them to the butchery, at the end of the compound.

The butchers were elbow deep in viscera, the corpses of pigs and cows and rabbits hung from the rafters, buckets collecting blood beneath them, buckets of the unusable organs buzzing with flies, cuts of meat ready to bring to the kitchen carefully packed in containers on the other side.

Nie Huaisang waved his hand frantically in front of him. “If my robes end up smelling like blood I’m blaming you,” he complained.

If Lan Zhan could drool they would be, Wei Ying thought, as the butcher split the cow’s skull, revealing the brain.

Ooooh, yes, Lan Zhan thought, and Wei Ying felt his hands reaching out.

Stop that! Wei Ying rebuked, pulling his hands back.

“Nie-xiong!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I thought your ancestors were butchers. What would your brother say if he heard you talk like that?”

Nie Huaisang poked him in the side with the fan. “You’re never going to tell him. And the butchers and I already have an arrangement.” He winked at the butchers, who grinned back. Wei Ying didn’t want to know.

Nie Huaisang lifted his skirts delicately and went to look through the closed buckets. “A few steaks good for you?” he asked.

I want brains, Lan Zhan said. And that, they added, referring to the buckets of unusable viscera.

“Actually, could we have the brains?” Wei Ying asked.

“The brains?” Nie Huaisang complained. “But they’re the best part.”

“The brains of just one cow?” Wei Ying begged. “Surely you have others.”

Nie Huaisang sighed, but gestured to the butcher, who dumped the brain in another bucket.

“And that,” Wei Ying said, pointing.

Nie Huaisang made a face. “The flies have been on it!”

Even better, Lan Zhan said. Mmmmmm.

“Take as much as you want,” the butcher said. “We’re just gonna bring it out to the pigs.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said. “Can you put it aside for us as long as we’re here? We’ll pick it up a few times a day.”

“What is this mysterious thing you’re working on?” Nie Huaisang asked, with narrowed eyes, as Wei Ying carried the buckets out of there.

“A monster,” Wei Ying said, dramatically.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He wrinkled his nose at Wei Ying and hurried off.

Wei Ying ducked behind the butchers and found a spot where no one could see him, in the middle of a copse of trees. He put the buckets down and considered them. “Is there some way you can eat this without it having to go through me?” he asked.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer; instead they seeped out of Wei Ying, a curl of black smoke. It wrapped around the buckets until they were hidden from Wei Ying’s eyes and when it lifted up, flowing back into Wei Ying’s skin with a faint, tickling sensation, the buckets were as empty as if they had been scrubbed.

The feeling of Lan Zhan inside of him was heavier now. They felt content and sleepy, like a tired cat curled up on Wei Ying’s lap.

Wei Ying found himself wishing Lan Zhan was a cat so he could pet them. It was a ridiculous thought. He grabbed the buckets and went to return them to the butchers.

. . .

Things carried on like that for a few weeks; Wei Ying and Lan Zhan trained with the Jiang sect members, all of them sworn to silence about Wei Ying’s ‘secret weapon’, though more than one cornered Wei Ying and asked, concerned if he was practicing modao or some other wicked art. He laughed and reassured them that it was just crafty tricks, nothing harmful.

Though that wasn’t literally correct, he considered. It was demonic cultivation, in a way, despite all his assurances that it wasn’t; Lan Zhan was clearly a human being transformed. They had never died, therefore they could not be a ghost. Did that make them a demon? Demons were the worst of the monsters the cultivators dealt with. Human in intelligence, but twisted into something humans couldn’t be.

But by that definition, Lan Zhan couldn’t be a demon– they were changed, maybe, but not twisted. Not wrong, just different.

They just were, Wei Ying decided. Whatever they were. Unique, special.

. . .

It was a mix of Nie, Jiang, and Jin sects that went to reclaim Cloud Recesses. Jiang Cheng took the lead, organizing the troops with a confidence Wei Ying hadn’t seen on him before. They flew to Gusu, to the mountains above Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying on a borrowed sword that didn’t feel right. He wobbled like a disciple first learning to ride the sword, as Lan Zhan got excited about seeing the landscape from the air, exclaiming over mountains and rivers like they’d never seen them before (because they hadn’t).

Wei Ying led them down to a path he had found when he had been a student at Cloud Recesses, alleviating his boredom by going everywhere he shouldn’t, filing one by one, as silently as they could (the Jin disciples were terrible at being silent– hadn’t they ever gone hunting?), until they reached the wards.

Wei Ying held out a hand to make the ward structure visible, then carefully set about picking it, first connecting it to sub-wards on either side of the path so the whole thing wouldn’t collapse, then creating a gap in the ward for them to pass through.

“They hadn’t even added an extra layer on the wards,” he scoffed. “Anyone with a ward key could have just strolled through!”

They left most of the cultivators in the bamboo forest near the main compound, with strict warnings to be silent, and he and Jiang Cheng sneaked around, identifying where the Wen guards were camped out among the half-burnt buildings, but were unable to spot any of the Lan Sect members.

They retreated to some ways off from the buildings. “I can’t imagine the Wen killed them all,” Wei Ying mused. “If only we had a Lan sect member to ask.”

Maybe I can help, Lan Zhan said, in his mind.

How? Wei Ying asked, and, as if in answer, felt Lan Zhan take over his hands, raising them and running some of the resentful energy down Wei Ying’s arms and out his palms.

It didn’t twist and curl like Lan Zhan did when they were manifesting. Instead it poured out of Wei Ying like smoke, gathering before him until it coalesced into the shape of a woman.

“Mother,” Lan Zhan said, with Wei Ying’s mouth.

The ghost looked up with wide eyes and touched Wei Ying’s cheek with her shadow fingers. “My son,” she said. “You have a body.”

Lan Zhan shook Wei Ying’s head. “I am only borrowing.”

The ghost nodded.

“Mother, we are endeavoring to retake the Lan compound from the Wen invaders, but there are no Lan disciples being held here. Is there some secret spot they may have gone?”

The ghost considered this. “There is a secret cave,” she said, finally. “I can lead you to it, but you cannot get in without a Lan sect band.”

“Please show us,” Lan Zhan requested, and the ghost nodded again and led them to the back hill to a place where Wei Ying had used to go fishing with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang.

The ghost stopped and brushed the cliff wall with her fingers. “Behind here,” she said.

Wei Ying took control of his arm back from Lan Zhan and placed his hand on the cliff. He tilted his head. “This ward is much better than the one around the main compound. It will take me a while to pick it.”

The ghost nodded and then she passed through the stone.

“Where did she go?” Wei Ying asked.

“To convince them to come out,” Lan Zhan replied, with Wei Ying’s mouth.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said, “that is really creepy.”

A moment later the ghost reemerged, a cultivator following her.

“Lan-Zongzhu,” Wei Ying said. “We’ve come to help you retake Cloud Recesses.”

“We have a force of twenty-two cultivators,” Jiang Cheng added.

Lan Xichen nodded. “Thank you, Wei-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi.”

“It is Jiang-zongzhu now,” Wei Ying said.

“Oh, my condolences to you,” Lan Xichen said. “Come, we will discuss strategy.” He held out a pair of head ribbons, both stained with blood. “Keep these on you,” he instructed, and then led them through the cliff wall.

The cave on the other side was icy cold and there were Lan sect members camped out in it everywhere there wasn’t water, fires burning in braziers here and there, parents holding small children, older children running around and, for some reason, a lot of rabbits.

The ghost had followed them. Now she pushed through the crowd, not caring when she passed through the body of a person or rabbit, until she stood in front of Lan Qiren, who stared at her with a purpling face.

“Wei Ying!” he exclaimed. “What have you done?!”

“He has brought me here so I could seek justice, Brother-in-law,” she said.

“Isn’t that what you taught us?” Wei Ying asked, with feigned innocence, even though he had actually had nothing to do with the situation (if you put aside the fact that Lan Zhan inhabited his body). “To liberate ghosts by helping them accomplish any unfulfilled wishes? I am only following your instructions.”

Lan Qiren glared at him until the ghost spoke again.

“Does your sect know of the wrongs you committed against me?” she demanded.

“It was my brother,” he began.

“And you did nothing to help,” she argued. “My husband–” she spoke the word with as much vitriol as possible. “Went into confinement. You could have freed me.”

“You killed our teacher…” Lan Qiren began.

“In self defense! Is a woman not allowed to try to stop a man raping her?” she asked, looking around at the Lan sect members who were listening, their mouths gaping. “Is it not the obligation of a man to help a woman in such a position? And yet what did your brother do? Your sect leader,” she addressed the Lan sect members. “Your father,” she said, to Lan Xichen.

She looked at Lan Qiren again. “He forced me to marry him. He kept me imprisoned. He raped me over and over again. And your elders let it happen,” she said, turning to the Lan sect members. “Your grandmaster here made sure I got three meals a day and a maid to come clean my prison.” She laughed bitterly.

“And then I got pregnant,” she said, turning to Lan Xichen. “And thought ‘at least I’ll have a baby with me to bring joy to my life.’ I carried him against my heart and then not a day after he was born he was taken away from me. I hadn’t thought I had anything to lose more precious than my freedom– how wrong I was.”

Lan Xichen was openly crying now.

“That’s when I knew I couldn’t go through again,” she said. “I planned and waited, and when I had gathered enough of the medicine they brought me to numb my mind I poisoned my husband. What else was I to do? Have another child be stolen from me? Kill myself while my torturer lived?

“I had expected death for my crime, but I hadn’t expected to be brought before the whole cultivation world, for lie after lie to be told of me, to be sentenced to death in the Burial Mounds, the half-death of a tortured ghost, the gates of Diyu closed to me. Not just me, but the child I unknowingly carried within me. Your brother,” she told Lan Xichen. “Trapped in a half-life because of the sins of your clan.”

She shook her head, turned to meet the eyes of the female sect members. “Such is the lot of women in this world. Punished for trying to protect yourself, blamed if you do not. Nothing belongs to you, not even yourself.”

“Mother,” Lan Xichen said, stepping forward. “I’m sorry I didn’t honor you as I should have. When we free the compound I will have your name tablet placed in the ancestral hall. I’ll burn all the joss paper I can find.”

She walked over to him, cupped her hand against his cheek. “My son,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Honor me by making your sect a place of true virtue, not a place that blindly follows ten thousand rules.”

Lan Xichen nodded, swallowing again.

“And by punishing those who participated in my captivity,” she added. “Your uncle and the council of elders who led Cloud Recesses back then.”

Lan Xichen paled, looked uncertain.

“We will,” one of the female Lan sect members said, stepping forward. “Forgive us, jie, for not coming to your aid.”

“Yes,” another of the female Lan sect members said, her child held tightly in her arms.

Another female Lan sect member stepped forward, pulling her husband with her, and then another and another, until most of the women and a good share of the men stood in solidarity with her.

The ghost bowed to them. “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for taking care of my son.”

She drifted over to Lan Xichen and took his hand. “Look after your sect,” she said. “Be just and fair and consider every rule before you follow it. And take care of your brother.”

“My brother?” Lan Xichen asked, confused, but the ghost was already fading.

For several minutes after she was gone the Lan sect members were silent, then Jiang Cheng spoke. “Sorry to interrupt this–” he gestured with both hands, “– but we’ve still got, ah, the Wen occupation to deal with.” Wei Ying was definitely going to have to make fun of him for that later.

. . .

The Lan sect members did their best to recover from the ghost’s revelations and to plan the counter-attack, and soon they had a strategy in place and Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng returned to the waiting cultivators with a few Lan disciples beside them.

The counter-attack was fairly anticlimactic when compared to the scene in the cave and soon the Wen sect members were routed and held in one of the surviving storage buildings while the rest of the Lan sect took stock of the destruction of their home.

Later, when Wei Ying had retreated to the temporary quarters that had been thrown together to house them, Lan Xichen came to see him, stepping into the tent with as much grace and dignity as if it was the finest of receiving halls.

He bowed low to Wei Ying. “Wei-gongzi, I can not thank you enough for bringing my mother’s ghost to speak before us.”

“I’m afraid it will cause you a lot of problems.”

Lan Xichen smiled faintly. “Yes,” he said. “I fear it may tear the sect apart. And yet, I am grateful. Grateful to see her and grateful that I have the chance to right the wrongs of my sect.”

Wei Ying smiled at him. “You’re welcome, but I’m not the one who did it.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him, then looked at Jiang Cheng, who shrugged.

“Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen said, slowly, “she asked me to take care of my brother– but she said he is trapped in a half-life. What did she mean?”

Wei Ying looked at Jiang Cheng, who shrugged again.

“I lost my golden core,” Wei Ying said, “and then the Wen threw me into the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Xichen stared at him. “But you’re still alive!” he exclaimed. “And I saw you using a spiritual sword.”

Wei Ying nodded. “When I fell into the Burial Mounds and was dying, a… being came to me and healed me. We made a deal– we would help each other get revenge. Them on the clan that imprisoned their mother and mine on the Wen.”

Lan Xichen gaped at him. “Where is he then?” he looked around, like he might spot Lan Zhan appearing out of nowhere, and he wasn’t wrong. The resentful energy poured down Wei Ying’s arms and again took form, but this time the smoky figure resembled Lan Xichen, the elegant robes of a Lan cultivator forming around him, hair pinned up in an elaborate guan.

“Xiongzhang,” they said.

Lan Xichen gasped. “Didi!” he exclaimed, and stepped forward and threw his arms around Lan Zhan’s waist.

Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying with wide eyes. Wei Ying mimed wrapping his arms around someone.

Lan Zhan sighed and returned the hug.

“I’m sorry didi,” Lan Xichen said, stroking Lan Zhan’s ghost-hair with a hand. “I should have protected you.”

“You didn’t even know about them,” Wei Ying pointed out.

“I should have known,” Lan Xichen repeated, sniffing. He pulled back. “So are you… a ghost?”

“No,” Wei Ying said. “They’re alive, it’s just… an usual kind of life. They normally live inside me.”

“Inside of you?” Lan Xichen asked, looking back and forth between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying said, “where my golden core was and in my meridians. They store qi for me.”

He smiled at Lan Zhan.

“Isn’t there a way…” Lan Xichen began, looking between the two of them, “for you to get a new body?”

“I do not wish one,” Lan Zhan said. “I wish to stay with Wei Ying.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said. “Well– you’re my brother whatever your shape is.” He hugged Lan Zhan instead. “I’m so glad to have you, didi!” He pulled back. “Uh, what’s your name?”

Jiang Cheng snorted a laugh.

. . .

The cultivators returned to Qinghe a few days later with a complement of Lan disciples, though Lan Xichen had to remain behind to resolve matters in the Lan sect. The next target of assault was obvious; the swords of most of the young cultivators were still in the hands of the Wen, at the outpost that had served as the site of the indoctrination. Jiang Cheng led a group of disciples to capture it and regain the swords.

Wei Ying held his breath as he pulled Suibian out of its sheath, holding the sword up to the light, then sliding a finger down the blade. It was unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Lan Zhan slid down Wei Ying’s arm and out along his finger, prodding at the sword, which prodded back, slightly. Swords weren’t sentient, but they were aware, like a rabbit or a mouse.

Lan Zhan hummed lightly in their mind. This one is better than the one you were using, they said.

It was forged for me, Wei Ying said. Uncle Jiang commissioned it because he knew I was going to be one of the best disciples the Jiang sect had ever had.

His pride at the memory of Uncle Jiang presenting him with the sword was suddenly cut with grief, the memory of Uncle Jiang’s body cold and still.

Lan Zhan slipped out tendrils under Wei Ying’s clothes and wrapped them tight around him in an imitation of a hug.

Wei Ying smiled and sheathed the sword. I’ll avenge him, he reminded himself.

Yes, Lan Zhan replied, and their familiar excitement at the thought of fighting and killing made Wei Ying laugh.

You’re a savage.

I’m a carnivore, Lan Zhan reminded him. Do you think there’s any meat around here? Or perhaps we can eat the dead cultivators?

. . .

They arrived back in Qinghe just before Jiang Yanli arrived. Shijie took one look at him and knew something was different; she grabbed him and Jiang Cheng by the arms and dragged them both off to a place where they could speak in private, as soon as she could.

“Spill,” she ordered, with raised eyebrows.

“Shijie,” Wei Ying pouted. “Is this how you greet your favorite shidi?”

Jiang Yanli gave him an unimpressed look.

“Okay, okay,” he said. He had shared the information with Lan Xichen of all people; it would be betrayal to speak of it to an outsider like him and not to his shijie. He opened his mouth then closed it again, then looked at Jiang Cheng.

“Wei Wuxian was an idiot.”

“Excuse you,” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I was captured by the Wen!”

“Which makes you an idiot,” Jiang Cheng replied.

“Whatever, you got captured by the Wen too,” Wei Ying said, sticking his tongue out at Jiang Cheng.

“You can’t stick your tongue out at me, I’m sect leader,” Jiang Cheng said, hands on his hips.

“Try and stop me!” Wei Ying called and darted out of reach.

“Boys!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, clapping her hands.

They stopped fighting and looked at her, guiltily.

“A-Xian, are you okay?” she asked.

Wei Ying nodded. “I lost my golden core,” he admitted.

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, A-Xian!”

“And they threw me into the Burial Mounds.”

Her eyes widened and she reached out to place one of her small hands on his arm, as if reassuring herself he was really there.

“That’s where Lan Zhan found me,” Wei Ying explained. “TheyHe filled the empty space inside of me and healed my wounds.”

“Filled the empty space inside of you?” Jiang Yanli asked, confused.

“Like a parasite,” Wei Ying said, cheerfully.

A symbiote, Lan Zhan corrected.

“I mean a symbiote.”

“So they live inside of you?” Jiang Yanli said slowly. “And they help you fight?”

“And stores qi,” Wei Ying finished.

Jiang Yanli frowned and looked between Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng.

Perhaps she would like to meet me? Lan Zhan asked.

Really? Wei Ying asked, surprised.

She means a lot to you, Lan Zhan said.

Of course, Wei Ying said. She’s my favorite person.

There was a faint sensation of disappointment.

Beside you, Wei Ying added quickly.

“What is he doing?” Jiang Yanli whispered to Jiang Cheng.

“Speaking with the parasite,” Jiang Cheng whispered back.

“Does this happen a lot?”

“All the time. I think he thinks he’s being discreet about it.”

“Do you want to meet Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked, interrupting their whispering.

Jiang Yanli looked between Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng again, uncertain. “Sure,” she said, sounding anything but.

As they had before, Lan Zhan rolled down Wei Ying’s arms in clouds of resentful energy before forming into the same shape they had formed before. Wei Ying thought they had just copied Lan Xichen; they looked just like him, if Lan Xichen had been made out of black smoke. It made sense, seeing as they were siblings.

“Oh,” Jiang Yanli said, staring up at Lan Zhan as they bowed before her. “Wow, you’re, uh… Lan Zhan? Are you related to the Gusu Lan?”

“They’re Lan Xichen’s younger brother.”

“Oh,” Jiang Yanli said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lan-er-gongzi.”

“And you, Jiang-guniang,” Lan Zhan replied.

“Thank you for saving A-Xian’s life,” Jiang Yanli said. “I hope he hasn’t been too annoying.”

“Shijie!” Wei Ying exclaimed, mortified. “If anything they’re the annoying one.”

Jiang Yanli gave him a skeptical look.

“He is rather annoying,” Lan Zhan said. “He talks so much.”

Jiang Yanli sighed. “I know,” she said, sympathetically, but then she smiled at Wei Ying. “It’s a good thing I like the sound of his voice.”

“Oh, shijie! I like the sound of your voice too!”

Jiang Yanli pinched his cheek affectionately. “I’m glad you’re both alive and well,” she said. “And I’m glad to meet you, Lan Zhan. I hope you'll continue protecting Wei Ying.” She clapped her hands. “I can always bribe you with food. What do you like to eat?”

Lan Zhan perked up.

Wei Ying sighed. “Brains are theirhis favorite.”

“Oh,” Jiang Yanli said. “I know a good recipe for a pig brain soup.”

“Raw,” Wei Ying added.

“Oh,” Jiang Yanli said again, not seeming put off at all. “Well, that’s even easier, isn’t it? I’ll talk to the kitchens and make sure to get some for you, okay?”

Wei Ying felt Lan Zhan’s pleasure and delight in Jiang Yanli.

Yeah, she’s pretty great.

. . .

“I can’t believe your parasite charmed jie,” Jiang Cheng complained later that night when they were in bed.

“They’re right here,” Wei Ying said, throwing a sock at him from his bed across the room. Somehow Lan Zhan’s ability to see in the dark had transferred to him and he was pretty happy when the sock fell on Jiang Cheng’s face.

“Ewww!” Jiang Cheng complained, flicking it off.

“And they’re not a parasite,” Wei Ying said. “They’re like the little sugar-pooping bugs with the ants, not with the plants.”

“What the hell?” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“Anyway, of course they charmed jie,” Wei Ying defended loyally. “They’re the best and she’s the best. It was destined that they would get along well.”

“The only thing they have in common is that they both put up with your bullshit.”

Perhaps we could eat him, Lan Zhan suggested.

No, Wei Ying replied. We need him. Sect leaders are the ones who do all the paperwork.

Paperwork? Lan Zhan asked.

Wei Ying imagined the tedium of checking over books, reading reports, reviewing supply orders.

Yes, I suppose we must keep him, Lan Zhan agreed after a moment.

. . .

All humans look different, Lan Zhan reflected as Wei Ying headed to the hall where breakfast was served for the visitors.

Yes, Wei Ying agreed.

Most are not as aesthetically pleasing as you, Lan Zhan considered.

Wei Ying felt his cheeks growing hot. What do you mean? Could you stutter in your own thoughts?

I have reviewed your memories and it seems as if people often look at you for longer than the people around you, Lan Zhan informed him.

You were supposed to be researching my fighting style! Wei Ying exclaimed.

It was useful to understand more about human culture, Lan Zhan replied, unapologetically. I agree with those who have found you attractive. Your shape is more pleasing than most.

Oh my gods, Wei Ying thought, resisting the urge to cover his face with his hands. Are you flirting with me?

Lan Zhan took a moment to respond, probably to figure out the definition of ‘flirting’ from Wei Ying’s memories. I am not trying to ‘get in your pants’, they informed him. I am already in your pants.

Oh my gods, Wei Ying thought again.

As if to prove it, Lan Zhan snuck a tendril out through Wei Ying’s skin and wrapped it around his thigh.

Stop! Wei Ying ordered sharply, as he began to feel his face going red.

Lan Zhan’s good mood vanished instantly and he got the strange image of the creature curling up, sulking, in the corner of his mind.

Sorry I snapped at you, Wei Ying said, as he sat down with his breakfast. But you were touching me fairly… intimately.

He felt the odd sensation of Lan Zhan flickering through his memories again. Wei Ying didn’t have many personal experiences with intimacy, but there are the erotic novels Huaisang had loaned him right there for Lan Zhan to leaf through and learn from.

Lan Zhan hummed in his mind, studying this new information, while Wei Ying leaned over the congee and made a show of sniffing it just to have something to excuse his red face.

. . .

He tried not to think of it as he ate breakfast, drawing on the meditation techniques he’d learned long ago, concentrating firmly on the flavor of the pickled vegetables and salted meat added to the congee, on observing the cultivators around him; the Lan disciples sat silently in one corner of the room, the Jin sect were eating breakfast with a look of distaste. The Jiang disciples he was sitting with were all gossiping about something, the Nie disciples were loud and jovial, talking and laughing with each other and slapping each other’s backs in a familiar way that sent a spike of grief through Wei Ying, remembering the destruction of Lotus Pier, the death of most of his shixiongmei.

He couldn’t swallow any more of his breakfast. He stood and brought his tray to the auntie collecting the dishes, who frowned at him in disapproval and scraped the remainder of the food into the slop bucket for the pigs, then he made his way to the training grounds, Lan Zhan snaking concerned tendrils down his wrist to twine about his fingers.

He slipped Suibian out of its sheath, let Lan Zhan’s tendrils wrap around the hilt of the sword. He could feel Suibian’s curiosity, such as it was, reach into him for Lan Zhan, could feel its approval as the qi of the three of them intertwined about the hilt. His grip on the hilt tightened.

We’ll get revenge, Lan Zhan whispered in his mind as the sword began the familiar forms. We’ll kill them all and take our revenge.

. . .

Lan Xichen arrived in the Unclean Realm the following day, bringing with him another complement of Lan sect cultivators and a surprise; a map of the positions of the Wen troops.

“A friend of mine reached out to me. He was forced to join the Wen sect, but he does not wish for Wen Ruohan to win,” Lan Xichen said.

“How can you trust a traitor?” Nie Mingjue asked, at this.

“He’s a good friend,” Lan Xichen defended. “Someone I trust.”

Nie Mingjue considered, then nodded. “If you trust him, Xichen, then I do as well.”

After the meeting, Lan Xichen followed Wei Ying, calling out to him: “Wei-gongzi, may I speak with you?”

Wei Ying turned and smiled. “Of course, Lan-zongzhu.” He followed Lan Xichen to the quarters that had been assigned to the sect leader, in the area of the compound inhabited by members of the Nie family. Wei Ying supposed it was due to the close relationship of the two sect leaders.

When the door was closed and Lan Xichen had made and served tea, he reached into his qiankun sleeve and took out a white sword, holding it out to Wei Ying in both hands.

“This is Bichen,” he said.

“Is it for us?” Wei Ying asked.

“As a son of the Lan family, Lan Zhan should have a Lan sword,” Lan Xichen answered. Lan Zhan extended a tendril and touched the sword lightly, then took it from Lan Xichen’s hands, Wei Ying standing so Lan Zhan could unsheath the sword and inspect it. “It was made at the Lan sect forge by our great-uncle,” Lan Xichen explained. “I asked him to make a sword worthy of a sect heir. I’m afraid he thinks I am on the verge of marriage now.”

The sword was beautiful, sharp and well balanced. The spirit inside sang when Lan Zhan wielded it.

“Thank you, xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan said with Wei Ying’s mouth.

Lan Xichen stood and held out a light blue ribbon identical to his own, embroidered with white clouds. “This is yours as well,” Lan Xichen said. “You are a member of our family no matter what form you take.”

Lan Zhan reached out another tentacle to take it gingerly. “I cannot wear it,” they said, again with Wei Ying’s mouth.

“I will wear it for you,” Wei Ying said. “Here– you can wrap it around my wrist and I’ll wear it beneath my bracer and no one will know.”

Lan Zhan carefully undid the ties on Wei Ying’s bracer and pushed his sleeve up, then wrapped the ribbon around Wei Ying’s wrist, where it would be hidden.

“Thank you, xiongzhang,” they said, softly, touching the ribbon delicately with the end of a tentacle.

“I am so glad you are alive, didi,” Lan Xichen whispered. “I am so sad I wasn’t able to know you sooner. May I hug you?”

Wei Ying smiled and reached out his arms and Lan Xichen wrapped his arms around him, Lan Zhan snaking out tentacles to wrap around the both of them.

“Xichen!” Nie Mingjue’s voice called from the hallway.

“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, extricating himself from the hug and stepping back. He wiped a finger under one eye. “One moment, dage!”

Lan Zhan retied Wei Ying’s bracer while Wei Ying slipped the sword into his qiankun bag.

Lan Xichen smiled at them. “After the war, maybe you can come to Cloud Recesses and we can get to know each other better,” he suggested.

Yes, Lan Zhan said, feeling joyous inside Wei Ying’s mind.

“Lan Zhan would like that,” Wei Ying said. “As would I.” He bowed to Lan Xichen and left the room, bowing to Nie Mingjue on the way.

. . .

In the most secluded training grounds they practiced with both swords, Lan Zhan figuring how to use theirhis tentacles to wield theirhis sword and Wei Ying how to counter balance it. Their thoughts had to run together to use both swords effectively, every movement of both tentacles and body perfectly in sync. As they improved, Wei Ying began to feel more like their minds were blending, no longer two separate people. Control of Wei Ying’s limbs shifted seamlessly from one to the other, as did control of Lan Zhan’s resentful energy. Wei Ying’s senses were enhanced by Lan Zhan’s, his endurance by Lan Zhan’s strength, and he could not tell if he was feeling Lan Zhan’s hunger or his own.

It grew so natural over their days of practice that they had to check themselves constantly in company, keeping Lan Zhan entirely hidden, their voice out of Wei Ying’s mouth, their tentacles tucked beneath Wei Ying’s skin.

Someday, Wei Ying thought, we will be in Lotus Pier and we can be ourselves.

Lan Zhan stroked their tentacles over Wei Ying’s skin in comfort and affirmation.

It grew natural, too, for Lan Zhan to feel the urges of Wei Ying’s body and to wish to satisfy them. They lay awake while Jiang Cheng slept.

We cannot, Wei Ying thought. Jiang Cheng will wake. A dozen embarrassing experiences flickered through his mind.

Let us go somewhere else, where they will not see, Lan Zhan suggested.

It was late at night– they might find somewhere secluded.

Wei Ying nodded and pulled on his over-robe, tying it messily, then creeping out of the room. Jiang Cheng rolled over and muttered in his sleep.

The compound was more and more full of cultivators every day– there were no empty rooms. But the courtyard given over to the Jiang sect was not as crowded as other areas and the sitting room was unoccupied.

Someone may come in.

We will be quiet, Lan Zhan urged, and led Wei Ying to lay down on one of the couches. It was narrow and stiff, but he had laid down on worse.

Lan Zhan slipped their tentacles out and ran them lightly over Wei Ying’s skin, first over his hands, stroking the long lines of his fingers, then tracing tendons in his feet.

What are you doing? Wei Ying asked.

Shhhh, Lan Zhan answered. I just want to feel you.

The tentacles looped around Wei Ying’s wrist, toyed with the Lan sect ribbon there for a moment, then slipped up Wei Ying’s arm.

Lan Zhan snuck their tentacles under Wei Ying’s loose sleeping clothes, stroking over his skin in a dozen places at once, making Wei Ying moan and giggle and try to flinch away, until it seemed Lan Zhan had mapped Wei Ying’s reaction to them testing every inch of his skin.

The touches were more directed then; a tentacle licked behind his knee, a tentacle cupping his ass, a tentacle played with his nipple, another stroked, wetly, along his lower lip. He couldn’t help jerking up into the touches, trying to feel them more, couldn’t help crying out.

Shhhh, Lan Zhan said again, and a tentacle slipped into his mouth. A hundred images from Nie Huaisang’s spring novels flickered through his mind; men with mouths full of their partner’s… uh… jade pillar.

He felt Lan Zhan react to the images with curiosity and interest. The tentacle in Wei Ying’s mouth grew larger and begin to slip back and forth across his tongue, while the other tentacles began to explore more freely, plucking both of his nipples at once, slipping up his groin to tease the soft skin of the insides of his thighs, rubbing between the curves of his ass to explore the area between them.

Wei Ying gasped and shuddered and everytime Lan Zhan asked a silent Okay? he thought back Yes! More!

Lan Zhan’s tentacles began to grow damp with something where they were sliding across Wei Ying’s hole, pressing in slightly, making him rock back against the pressure.

You like that? Lan Zhan asked, one tentacle pressing in further until the thin tip of it breached Wei Ying’s walls.

Yes, Wei Ying thought, trying not to gasp too loudly. Lan Zhan’s tentacle dove deeper into his mouth while the tentacle opened Wei Ying up on the other end, swelling and contracting rhythmically, slowly stretching his hole wider and wider, slipping in a little bit further every time.

You’re beautiful, Lan Zhan murmured, a tentacle gently sweeping a line along the curve of Wei Ying’s cheek. You’re so good. The tentacle widened, went deeper. It rubbed against Wei Ying’s prostate and his back arched.

Yes! he cried, in his mind.

You’re mine, Lan Zhan said. The tentacle in his ass was pounding into him now, and another had come up to stroke Wei Ying’s neglected cock.

You’re mine, Wei Ying echoed, grabbing onto one of Lan Zhan’s wandering tentacles and grasping it tight. It wound over and under his fingers as if they were holding hands.

We’re ours, Lan Zhan agreed, and rubbed hard against Wei Ying’s prostate as he arched and came and came and came.

. . .

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at Wei Ying suspiciously.

“Wei-gongzi,” Nie Mingjue called. “You said you might have something that could neutralize the puppets. Is it ready?”

Wei Ying looked up at him, torn away from an internal argument with Lan Zhan about spicy foods. “Yes, I believe I do,” he said.

“It is decided then," Nie Mingjue announced, pounding his fist on his desk. “We’ll ride out early tomorrow. Prepare your people.”

They all stood and began to filter out.

“You really think Lan Zhan can take the puppets?” Jiang Cheng whispered to Wei Ying as they followed Jin Zixuan out of the room.

“They’re certain of it,” Wei Ying said.

“Well, I hope they’re right,” Jiang Cheng said. He glared at Jin Zixuan out of habit.

“So do I,” Wei Ying agreed.

Of course I can take a few puppets, Lan Zhan said, sounding a little offended.

I didn’t mean to doubt you, Wei Ying soothed them. We’re ready.

Lan Zhan slid a tentacle down the inside of Wei Ying’s thigh. Yes, we are.

Not in public!

Inside Wei Ying’s head, Lan Zhan laughed.

. . .

It’s a trap, Lan Zhan suggested, of Wen Ruohan pulling his troops back to the Nightless City.

Obviously it’s a trap, Wei Ying replied, studying the newest map from Lan Xichen.

So why are we falling for it?

Because we’ve got a secret weapon.

Lan Zhan seemed dissatisfied with being called a weapon. Wei Ying slid a reassuring thought across the surface of his mind, then turned back to pay attention to Nie Mingjue who was pontificating about victory.

This is boring, Lan Zhan thought and Wei Ying felt a tendril slipping beneath his robes, headed for a nipple.

Not in public, he scolded them.

Why not? Lan Zhan asked, taking control of Wei Ying’s face and keeping his expression still as their tentacle pinched at Wei Ying’s nipple.

Jiang Cheng nudged his shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re not fidgeting?”

That’s why, Wei Ying snickered.

Lan Zhan pushed a pouting feeling into his thoughts, but their tentacle melted into Wei Ying’s skin.

The assembled cultivators started chanting.

Finally, it’s over, Lan Zhan thought. Can we finally get revenge now?

Yes, Wei Ying agreed. We can finally get revenge.

. . .

Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen led the Jiang and Lan sects ahead to make the first strike, Wei Ying right behind the two sect leaders. He jumped off his sword, striking up with it as soon as he touched down, spinning to spit Wen cultivators on his sword. They were uncoordinated and poorly trained, bumbling into each other and using a conflicting mix of forms.

They must be cultivators from the smaller sects the Wen had seized control of, Wei Ying thought, which meant that Wen Ruohan was saving his strongest cultivators to defend the gates of Nightless City.

It should have been easy, mowing through them; the Lan and Jiang cultivators had already been known for their skill even before they began training non-stop to avenge their sects, but before they’d struck a tenth of them down a foul smelling fog rose up.

It’s resentful energy, Lan Zhan warned, with some sort of magic mixed in it.

Wei Ying felt themhim exude a subtle tentacle and test the air.

It’s corrupting people’s minds! they warned, and Wei Ying felt Lan Zhan wrap tightly around Wei Ying to protect him.

You have to do something, Wei Ying thought, frantically, as he saw the features of the Lan and Jiang sect members begin to change, their pupils growing until they covered the whites of the cultivator’s eyes, black creeping up the veins of their neck. Can you reverse it? He grabbed one of the tainted cultivators and held her fast against his body, wrists caught in his hands so she couldn’t pull free.

Lan Zhan slipped a tentacle inside her and after a moment Wei Ying felt the disciple relax.

That will take too long, Wei Ying thought, frantically, but Lan Zhan was rising up out of Wei Ying, a fountain of black tentacles, and catching and wrapping around all of the corrupted cultivators.

The fighting came to a stop as all the cultivators turned to stare at Wei Ying and the plethora of tentacles emerging from him.

“Well, that secret lasted all of ten minutes,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“Would you rather have lost more of the Jiang Sect?” Wei Ying demanded.

Lan Zhan let loose the cultivators one after another, each stumbling and then righting themselves as they were released.

“You’re okay!” Wei Ying shouted. “You’re okay! Keep fighting!”

Shaking off the horror of the corruption, the cultivators threw themselves back into the fray with renewed vigor.

. . .

“The Jiang sect has been keeping secrets,” Nie Mingjue said, when the rest of the army caught up with them.

“The Jiang sect doesn’t answer to you,” Jiang Cheng answered, angrily.

“Wei Wuxian is using demonic cultivation!” Jin Zixun yelled, pointing at him. “He’s an abomination!”

“Wei Wuxian won the battle for us,” Lan Xichen said, mildly. “And will be crucial in the war.”

“Are you suggesting you’re waiting to accuse him of demonic cultivation until Wen Ruohan is dead?” Jiang Cheng asked, dangerously.

“No!” Lan Xichen said, caught aback. “You know I would not.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” Nie Mingjue demanded. “The Lan Sect is not known for tolerating unorthodox cultivation.”

“The Lan sect has been wrong before,” Lan Xichen said, boldly. “And will be wrong again. It would be worse for us to benefit from Wei-gongzi’s spiritual practices and then turn around to condemn him than to accept his practices now. We must either agree that we approve of what he does or we must decline his assistance and lose this war.” He looked each member of the war council in the eye. “The only other option is to act with dishonor. The Lan sect will not accept defeat or dishonor. Will any of you?”

No one spoke.

“Then Wei Wuxian will not now or ever be prosecuted for his methods,” Lan Xichen declared. “If he is, the Lan sect will stand behind him.”

“And the Jiang sect!” Jiang Cheng added, quickly, glaring at Lan Xichen for daring to protect a Jiang sect disciple.

Nie Mingjue was silent for a long moment, then raised his saber. “The Nie sect will stand behind Wei-gongzi.”

Jin Zixuan swallowed and looked around, not meeting any of their eyes. “The Jin sect will as well,” he said, finally.

Lan Xichen smiled softly. “Then we are agreed,” he said. “Tomorrow we shall descend upon the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian shall lead us to victory.”

. . .

Jiang Cheng found Wei Ying sitting on a hill. In the distance, the lights of the Nightless City were visible.

“Can you do it?” he asked, softly.

“I do not know the strength of Wen Ruohan’s resentful energy,” Wei Ying said. “Or how he controls it with magic.”

“But we are strong,” Lan Zhan said, growing a head on Wei Ying’s shoulder.

Wei Ying swallowed and nodded. “We are strong.”

“All of those Wen Ruohan has harmed will join us,” Lan Zhan added.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asked, shocked.

“I have called to them,” Lan Zhan explained. “The people he has killed, the families of those he has imprisoned and forced to fight for him. I have called them all up. Tomorrow you will see; the ghosts will ride up against him.”

“Oh my heaven,” Jiang Cheng muttered, dropping down to the ground beside them. “Do we even need an army?”

“They will look upon us and see the power Wei Ying and I control and they will tremble,” Lan Zhan declared.

“They will come after you all the faster!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

“They just swore they would not,” Lan Zhan said, confused.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “You do not understand how quickly promises like that are forgotten.”

“It is dishonorable!” Lan Zhan exclaimed, shocked.

Jiang Cheng smiled bitterly. “The tale is twisted when it is told. The victors choose their words carefully until all of their actions seem impeccable. That is the way society is.”

“I didn’t realize you were so insightful,” Wei Ying commented.

“I learned a lot in the Nightless City, during our indoctrination,” Jiang Cheng explained. “I should personally thank Wen Chao for teaching such a valuable lesson.”

“Will Wen Chao be there tomorrow?” Wei Ying asked. “I also have words I’d like to share with him.”

He leaned against Jiang Cheng, resting his head on his shidi’s shoulder.

“After this we go back to Lotus Pier,” Wei Ying said. “Just wait, Lan Zhan; you’ll love everything about it. We’ll go out and gather lotus seeds.”

“More plants?” Lan Zhan grumbled.

“And catch fish,” Wei Ying added, quickly, and smiled at Lan Zhan’s pleased hum. “And we won’t have to hide. Will we?” he asked Jiang Cheng.

“Fuck no!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed. “You win this war and you won’t have to hide again. The whole fucking Jiang sect will be behind you on that one.”

“I like not having to hide,” Lan Zhan said.

“Come on.” Jiang Cheng stood. “We have to get rest. Tomorrow we finish it.”

. . .

They marched there on foot, Nie Gongzi at the head of the column, each sect marching with their disciples, swords in hand, and came to a stop in formation on the flat ground before the gates of the NIghtless City.

There was silence for a long moment and then the gates opened, soldiers pouring down the steps, marching to stand on either side of the gate, more and more of them until they almost matched the allied sects for number.

Then Wen Ruohan himself came and stood in front of the gate.

“Have you come here to surrender?” he asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said and lifted his saber. “Attack!”

The allied sect cultivators began running forward, yelling as they ran and Wen Ruohan lifted his hands, which was Wei Ying’s signal. Lan Zhan lifted him on tendrils of resentful energy and carried him to stand before the sect leader.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes went wide. “What are you?” he demanded.

“I’m Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian. First disciple of the Jiang sect.” Wei Ying gave a shallow bow.

“I know your name,” Wen Ruohan spit out. “What are you?”

Wei Ying smiled and he felt Lan Zhan’s sharp teeth fill his mouth. “I am revenge,” he said, and Lan Zhan pulled Bichen out of Wei Ying’s qiankun pouch and struck out with it.

Wen Ruohan jumped back and pushed a wall of resentful energy out in front of himself.

Lan Zhan extended a tentacle and touched the wall of resentful energy and then laughed with Wei Ying’s mouth. “It’s not even yours!” they exclaimed. “Come, you tortured spirits! It is time for you to fight!”

They opened Wei Ying’s mouth wide and resentful energy began to pour out of it, clouds of black ink coalescing into ghosts. Men, women, children; peasants, warriors and lords; women dressed in the scanty clothes of prostitutes, women dressed in the red of brides. There were people garbed in the strange robes of other lands, court officials with the distinctive robes and hats of office, cultivators marked with emblems of every sect. The spirits crowded around Wei Ying and joined Lan Zhan in battering down the wall of resentful energy.

“Those you have wronged have come to haunt you,” Lan Zhan told the sect leader, as the ghosts broke through the shield and began to shred his clothing.

“No!” Wen-zongzhu cried. “I have the Yin Iron!” Four pieces of shaped iron appeared above his hand, spinning and combining into a circle, resentful energy twining and spiraling out from it.

Lan Zhan flowed back into Wei Ying’s body and then transformed it, engorging him in size, covering his skin with Lan Zhan’s black ink. They elongated until they’d taken the form of a massive dragon, then opened their mouth, a massive maw filled with enormous teeth, and bent forward and swallowed the circle of iron.

Wei Ying felt a massive jolt of power flood through him, shooting down the length of his now serpentine body and then it was gone.

Behind him he heard surprised shouts.

“How did you do that?” Wen Ruohan demanded, as the blood left his face and he went ashen. He collapsed to his knees, gasping. The ghosts were ripping at his skin now, whirling around him until his body was completely covered by their ghostly forms and then they blew away, on the wind, and left only shreds of robes where the chief cultivator had once stood.

Wei Ying felt himself shrink as Lan Zhan let go of the dragon form and slipped back inside his skin, quieter and smaller inside of Wei Ying than they’d been before. He turned to see the Wen cultivators on the battlefield had collapsed, the allied cultivators standing over them, looking around with shock at how quickly the enemy had been defeated.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng yelled and at first Wei Ying thought he was scolding him for something or another, but then he realized it was a cheer. “Wei Wuxian!” he shouted again and then the other cultivators joined in, until the whole army was chanting Wei Ying’s name.

He wobbled a little and sat down on the stairs in front of the Nightless City gates, smiling and waving at them.

No one’s cheering for me, Lan Zhan pouted, and Wei Ying laughed, looked out on the crowd and laughed again.

. . .

In Yunmeng people told stories of a monster that inhabited the river and lotus ponds near Lotus Pier. Larger than a man, with long tentacles that spiraled from its body, it swam through the currents, lurked under the docks, caught fish and stole lotus pods. Sometimes a tentacle shot out of the water and snagged a duck or a pheasant. Sometimes a villager caught it by surprise basking in the sun.

When applied to, sect leader Jiang Cheng would scowl and demand to know if the monster had harmed anyone, and though many had seen it, no one had been harmed. In fact, fewer people had drowned in the river than ever before. A few even claimed that the monster had rescued them from the water.

The only ones who had any reasonable complaint were the lotus farmers whose lotus flowers and pods had been stolen and the fishermen, who complained that the monster scared the fish away.

At these complaints, the sect leader frowned and held his hand out to his first disciple, Wei Wuxian, who would grin and dig a purse out of the folds of his robe and toss it to the farmer or fisherman.

Later, Wei Ying would lie in his hammock at the side of his small house in a secluded part of the sect compound, humming softly to himself while a long tentacle gently rocked the hammock, and others drifted idly in the water below.

Wei Wuxian, Modao Zushi, who defeated Wen Ruohan with an army of ghosts and cured his puppets with tendrils of resentful energy, whose demon lived inside of him and wielded a Lan blade, honored by all the sects as the Champion of the Sunshot Campaign, who could turn into a great dragon of resentful energy, should his family be threatened, sighed happily as his lover stroked gently along his skin and let himself be rocked to sleep.