❃ 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 ❃

🔹𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖞 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖊🔹

Koi Tower was gold and white and sparkling—full of corruption. As Lan Wangji walked briskly, languishing flowers with lush petals and heavy scents nod around him, forced to bloom out of season. The hard paths that rung under his boots were paved with mosaics like a ceremonial hall in their own right, surely an endless burden to maintain; rather than with gravel that can readily be raked, to make all the walkways under clouds and mist orderly each day. Even the roofs were glazed and gleaming here, and everything available down to the bases of the golden pillars had been carved with peonies. The soil of the beds Lan Wangji passed had all been hauled in, collected and mounded up to serve a purpose that nourished no one.

Lan Wangji was deeply determined, righteously angry—and also nervous. That last, at least, did not show; he knew that. His face was expressionless; calm, if an obdurate stone is calm. His forehead ribbon was perfectly level. His shoulders were square. His guan was as sharp as the rocks of the Burial Mounds and as silver as the stars. And in a pointed silent remark on the sorrows of war, the longing for it to be over, his embroidered robes—intricately figured —were entirely and spotlessly white today, as pale as moonlight.

Today, Lan Wangji would have to speak aloud. He would need to speak without faltering, likely at length, and probably in answer to ridiculous questions. He must make himself plain, without opaquely encompassing the truth in a tidy phrase that was too neatly nuanced and concise to have only one meaning for listeners who do not already understand his intent. Lan Wangji must explain to the public how he circumvented certain rules of his sect to uphold others. He would need to tell the world painful facts about Wei Wuxian, whom people claim to be dead.

If the earlier Flower Feast was a big public feast open to all the families, then this feast was a private feast, open only to intimately related clans, as well as to the Jin sect members and subsidiary clans.

Lan XiChen and Lan WangJi took their seats in order. As per Jin GuangYao's arrangements, there were no wine cups on the table in front of them, only teacups and several light dishes. The GusuLan sect's dislike of wine was known far and wide, so no one else at the feast proposed a toast, leaving the air calm and tranquil.

Unexpectedly, after a long period of calmness, a youth wearing the Sparks Amidst Waves of Snow uniform suddenly walked towards them, a cup of wine in each hand as he loudly announced, "Clan Leader Lan, Hanguang-jun, I offer you two each a cup!"

This person's skin was slightly dark, his stature tall, and he looked rather smart. His voice was clear and resonant. Ever since he had gotten up earlier, he'd been proposing toasts all throughout the hall, causing a buzz of noise.

He was Jin GuangShan's brother's son and Jin ZiXuan's older cousin, Jin ZiXun.

Jin GuangYao knew that the Lan sect brothers disliked drinking wine, so he went over there quickly with a smile. "ZiXun, Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun are both from the Cloud Recesses. Rather than offering them drinks, you should –"

Jin ZiXun absolutely could not stand the recently admitted (to the Jin sect) Jin GuangYao, whom he thought was lowly and who he viewed as if he were nothing, so he immediately interrupted him and said, "Our families, Jin and Lan, are one extended family. We're all a part of each other's families. If you two Lan brothers choose not to drink, that means you must look down on me!"

Jin GuangYao maintained his smile without faltering, but still let out a soundless sigh.

Lan XiChen rose up from his seat and tactfully declined. Lan WangJi continued to remain seated, glaring icily at the cup of wine that Jin ZiXun held in front of his face. His lip quivered, as if he were about to say something, when suddenly, a music came over.

A dizi.

The chaotic shriek of a dizi.

The song was sharp and wild, like mad scribblings across a page in a language known only by the author. It was enough to pierce through a man and leave him senseless with terror. It caught and hung on a high note, trembled like leafless winter branches, and flew back down like a swooping hawk before spiralling again. It wound tight around all the courage left in Lan Wangji's heart and threatened to sever it.

Lan Wangji staggered.

Nothing should have been able to surprise him anymore. He was too numb.

"What is that sound?" A cultivator questioned.

"Who is playing it?" Another cultivator questioned

Everyone looked around and no one noticed a single person playing a dizi.

There was a rush of movement behind him and as he turned to face whatever horror awaited, sudden screams of pain burst into his ears, unearthly screeches flew through air which was thick with the stench of burning, the heavy weight of resentment. It coiled through Lan Wangji's guts, and ripped at his soft parts.

Through the chaos, he saw a figure cloaked in black roll to the side then rise, absorb the demonic swirl of bodies to him before swiping them to the skies where they dissolved.

Only a tang of smoke and blood remained, and the flaming anger in the other's eyes.

He had dark hair that hung loose and trailed all the way down his back, save for a small bit that he tied with a red ribbon. He wore in black, and was holding a matching dizi. Around him was a constant cloud of resentful energy, so thick that any cultivator who drew near will feel his stomach go sour, a sharp pain behind his ribs and eyes as his body rejected the other's proximity. His eyes glowed a fearsome red when he played his song, commanding corpses stiff with death as his gaze seemed to drip fire.

The laughter rose in volume, the echo so harsh that Lan Wangji cringed, instinctively pressing his palms to his ears. There was the screaming of iron on stone, chains rustling and straining, and half a face was suddenly visible a foot or two from his own. It was obscured by shadow and wild hair, only slivers of gray-tinted skin and glowing red eyes.

Amidst the chaos, Lan Wangji's heart began to thump wildly. As the figure became more visible, Lan Wangji's heart began to tremble.

The figure seemed so familiar. So familiar that, well hidden feelings and emotions came flooding out. He just could not control his tears. For there stood, none other than,

"Wei Ying!"