Mischief in Gusu

Epilogue: The Return and Happily Ever After

The once-dark skies above the old temple slowly began to clear, as if the heavens themselves breathed a sigh of relief. The wind turned gentle, no longer heavy with resentment and mourning. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stood side by side at the entrance, the destroyed remains of the incense brazier behind them, a solemn reminder of what had just been overcome.

They descended the stairs in silence, hands brushing now and then, sharing unspoken words of relief and exhaustion.

As they reached the lower paths leading toward the gathering camp, the distant sounds of voices—clans calling out names, organizing medical supplies, restoring broken arrays—grew louder. It wasn’t until they passed the final boundary that a shout pierced the air.

“Shishu!! Hanguang-jun!!”

A-Yuan's voice rang out, clear and sharp, carrying with it panic, hope, and overwhelming emotion. The young man came running, his outer robe half-tied, hair disheveled from sleepless nights, eyes wide with worry.

Wei Wuxian turned just in time to be tackled into a tight hug, nearly falling back from the force.

“A-Yuan…” he whispered, wrapping his arms around the boy who had grown into a man but still clung like a child.

“I thought you were gone! You—you left and didn’t say anything! There were talismans burning on their own and rumors everywhere, and then this storm, and—” A-Yuan’s voice cracked. “You scared me.”

Lan Wangji approached quietly, placing a steadying hand on A-Yuan’s back. “We are safe.”

A-Yuan sniffled, quickly wiping his face before turning to Lan Wangji. “You, too, Hanguang-jun! You're bleeding!”

Wei Wuxian waved a hand. “That’s just a scratch—he took a spirit’s arm to the ribs and still stood tall. My Lan Zhan is made of steel.”

Lan Wangji: “Mn.”

A-Yuan looked between them, narrowing his eyes. “Why does it sound like you two did something insanely reckless again?”

“We won,” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Barely.”

But the moment of joy was short-lived. Members of the Lan Clan, Jin Clan, Nie Clan, and others were arriving fast—some with expressions of relief, others with barely concealed frustration.

Lan Qiren strode toward them, robes pristine despite the chaos. “Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian.”

They both straightened.

“What, in Heaven's name, were you thinking entering a cursed area alone without any formal report to the sects?”

Wei Wuxian tried to flash his most innocent smile. “It was kind of spontaneous—”

Lan Qiren cut him off with a glare. “Do not test me.”

Lan Wangji spoke calmly. “The situation was unstable. We acted quickly to prevent the spread.”

From the Nie Clan, Nie Huaisang arrived next, fanning himself furiously. “You could have asked for backup. There was a whole spirit army! I had to deal with Jin Guangyao whining about 'missing records' while you two were off ghost hunting!”

Jin Ling followed close behind, arms crossed. “Are you telling me this—” he gestured to the clearing skies— “was because of you both?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Well, technically, it was because of a cursed incense burner that turned us into toddlers once and then grew into a wrathful regret spirit made of suppressed memories and—”

“WHAT?” came a chorus of voices.

A-Yuan blinked. “Wait. This incense burner? The same one that turned you into babies and almost drove the entire Cloud Recesses mad for a week?”