After the QishanWen Sect collapsed, the city that used to be the most flourishing of all cities evaporated into thin air in just one night, falling into ruins. A large number of cultivators searched for new locations of activity, diverging into multiple new cities. Among them, Lanling, Yunmeng, Gusu, and Qinghe received the greatest influx of cultivators. On the streets, people hurried to and fro. All of the disciples carried swords by their waists, talking loftily about the fate of the current world. All of them were in high spirits.
Suddenly, the people on the streets lowered their voices slightly. In unison, they looked to the end of the street.
From there, a white-robed man wearing a forehead ribbon slowly approached, carrying with him a sword and a zither.
The man's features were of unparalleled grace, but frost and snow seemed to surround his figure. Before he had even drawn nearer, the cultivators quieted on their own, meeting his eyes in respect. The more well-known ones bravened up and went forth to salute him, "HanGuang-Jun."
Lan WangJi nodded slightly, returning the salutations without fault, and didn't cease in his steps. The other cultivators didn't dare bother him too much, knowing to back off.
Suddenly, however, from ahead of him came a young, grinning girl dressed in vibrant colors. In a hurry, she brushed shoulders with him, but suddenly tossed something toward his body.
Nimbly, Lan WangJi caught the object. He looked down to find the bud of a flower as white as snow.
The bud was delicate and fresh, having gathered some dew. As Lan WangJi maintained his silence, another slender figure approached from in front of him. With a wave of her hand, a small, blue flower was tossed at him. It was aiming for his chest, but ended up on his shoulder. Lan WangJi caught it as well. When he turned to look, the woman giggled before running away without even a hint of embarrassment.
The third time was a younger girl, who wore her hair in double-buns. Hopping over, in her arms she held a bunch of sprigs dotted with red buds. She fled as soon as she threw them toward his chest.
One after another, Lan WangJi had already gathered a bundle of colorful flowers, though he still stood expressionlessly in the middle of the streets. All of the cultivators who recognized HanGuang-Jun didn't dare laugh even if they wanted to. They pretended to be serious, but their eyes kept on lingering. The ordinary people who didn't recognize him, however, had already started to point at him. As Lan WangJi pondered with downcast eyes, he suddenly felt something weigh onto his head. He raised his hand. A pink medicinal peony, at the peak of its bloom, had landed flawlessly on the side of his head.
From on top of a building came a grinning voice, "Lan Zhan-ah, no, HanGuang-Jun-what a coincidence!"
Lan WangJi looked up to see an airy pavilion lined with layers and layers of gauze curtains. A black-robed man lay on his side over a red lacquer divan. One hand of his slender body dangled down, holding a fine liquor jar made of black clay. Half of the jar's crimson tassel wrapped around his arm, while the other half swayed back and forth in the air.
Seeing Wei WuXian's face, the disciples who were watching the scene all grew somewhat uncomfortable. Everyone knew that the YiLing Patriarch and HanGuang-Jun didn't have a good relationship. When they fought together during the Sunshot Campaign, they'd often begin to argue. Nobody knew what could happen this time. As of the moment, they didn't even bother to put on a polite pretense anymore, staring at the two as hard as they could.
Lan WangJi didn't leave with a cold face, contrary to their conjectures. He only said, "It is you."
Wei WuXian, "It's me! Someone who does such a ridiculous thing has to be me. Where did you find the time to come to Yunmeng? If you're not busy, come up here and have a drink?"
