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In the dark Jin Guangyao is a colourless figure, the gold and yellow washed away to white and grey. The mark on his forehead is black as ink. Starlight gleams in his eyes.
"Imagine," he says, and Lan Xichen imagines. "A tower here, overlooking the pass, and another to the east, there." The elegant sweep of an arm, encompassing the full height and breadth of the mountains that surround them. "Then another and another, in an unbroken chain through the mountain range. We can expand our trade routes and the common people will see the benefit not only of greater safety but also greater industry. In lean times it will also be easier to run supplies out to remote areas."
"In regard to supplies I also have some suggestions I wanted to share with you. In Gusu we have devised a system of allocation that has been working quite well." Lan Xichen smiles at him. "Especially since construction of the towers will take some time yet."
Jin Guangyao smiles back.
"Er-ge's perspective is always appreciated."
"I'm happy to be of help."
"But I've distracted us." Jin Guangyao turns from the dim horizon and narrows his eyes, focusing on their immediate surroundings. The bamboo is tall here, a black wall in the darkness, and there is as yet nothing untoward in the susurration of the wind.
"I think the trail is yet cold," says Lan Xichen. "Perhaps as we draw closer to Pan Manor we will discover some signs; otherwise we can set the spirit attraction flags when we arrive."
"Can we possibly be so inconsiderate to the Pan family?" asks Jin Guangyao. "They are still quite impoverished and can ill afford the honour of hosting two clan leaders."
"I am sure they would not see it that way."
"Better to present them with a done deed and remain for a single meal." Jin Guangyao is still gazing into the dark heart of the bamboo. "Then they can keep honour and provisions both."
"I defer to your wisdom," says Lan Xichen. He is simply glad whenever Jin Guangyao shares his thoughts aloud, and it is very like A-Yao to balance principles and practicality in this way. "I suppose you must also be eager to return to Lanling."
Jin Guangyao raises his eyebrows.
"Must I?"
"Qin Su and A-Song."
"Ah. Of course I am impatient to see my wife and child again." Jin Guangyao's smile is strange and shadowed beneath the starlight. "But it's only natural that I would also treasure time with my sworn brother. We have had so little opportunity to night hunt together in the past."
"We will have many more opportunities." Lan Xichen smiles again at the thought. After the war there had been few chances to work together in this way, when Lan Xichen had been taken up with his brother and his clan and the rebuilding of his home; and Jin Guangyao had been at his father's mercy. It is only in the short period of time since Jin Guangyao's ascension that they have been able to justify such excursions. It is something they both need: to take action, however small, rather than simply make plans and issue orders.
Jin Guangyao's smile is warm and uncomplicated again. He even seems on the verge of laughter.
"That's true. We have our whole lives ahead of us."
"An enviable future." Lan Xichen smiles back. "But I must ask A-Yao for his thoughts again. If we are not to travel directly to Pan Manor, where do you advise we set out the spirit attraction flags?"
"The message indicated the initial attack was north of the manor; the second, north-east. It tore a young couple limb from limb—the wife was a distant cousin of mine, which is how the news reached my ears. She had the family name but married a merchant of no particular reputation, and so my father had done little to provide for her. I believe they were returning to Lanling in the hope of greater generosity on my part."
"And would A-Yao have been generous?"
"I have seen that their children are taken care of; should any show aptitude the Lanling Jin will accept them as junior disciples. The others I will offer an endowment and release to the care of the father's family."
Sometimes it is impossible to remember that Jin Guangyao was not born to this. Lan Xichen allows himself a long, admiring look.
"Both generous and wise."
"The seeds of loyalty must be planted early if they are to thrive," says Jin Guangyao. He draws Hensheng in a sudden graceful arc. "Shall we?"
They travel onward in shared silence, exchanging the occasional smile and the odd playful dodge. More than once Jin Guangyao laughs aloud, and Lan Xichen must laugh in answer. It is a joy to see him like this, finally unfettered and able to fulfil his limitless potential.
It is also a privilege. No other could do what Jin Guangyao has done since his ascension, to extirpate the dark practices permitted under his father's rule and to drive through his extraordinary watchtower proposal in the face of staunch opposition from certain predictable quarters. Lan Xichen had been present that day, seated close enough to demonstrate support but not so close as to imply the proposal was anything other than Jin Guangyao's singular vision.
It had truly been something to behold: Jin-zongzhu, at the height of his power, praising the attendant clan leaders fulsomely and with individual attention, making it clear to all how much admiration and respect he held for his new peers. Each compliment a honeyed bribe or a veiled threat, and all delivered with the assurance that Lanling would bear the cost.
Even then there had been mutterings that Lanling made such a generous offer only to increase its power and infringe on the autonomy of the smaller clans. Such discontent still rumbles on, but Jin Guangyao insists the worst of it will die off once the towers are in operation. Lan Xichen is sure he is correct.
A few clouds have gathered to dim the stars by the time they stop again, alighting in the crown of a particularly tall conifer. Jin Guangyao surveys the valley with regal intensity, and it is easy to believe he will deliver the golden future he has promised.
"Do you hear it?" he says.
"I do." Lan Xichen tilts his head and listens more intently. Faint and faraway, almost lost in the breeze: a howl of resentment. "At least we will not need the spirit attraction flags."
"If it is not some other disturbance plaguing the area."
"If it is then we will deal with both," says Lan Xichen placidly, and draws Shuoyue again.
They fly on for perhaps half an incense stick before the sound comes again. It is unmistakable now: the corpse-roar of the furious dead.
They alight, this time in a small clearing, and listen carefully.
The roar comes once more, a single voice. Louder now.
"Only one," observes Lan Xichen, then hesitates. He can sense the resentful energy, and it does not seem to be coming from a single corpse. It cannot possibly be. Somewhere on the crest of the ridge, beneath the canopy, is a source of rage so strong it might well belong to an entire army.
Lan Xichen draws forth Liebing, but before he can play a single note he realises Jin Guangyao is trembling. His face is whiter than white and his eyes are black with terror.
Jin Guangyao has fought on innumerable battlefields and has risked his life ten thousand times as saviour and soldier and spy. They have known each other for many years now, and Lan Xichen has seen him afraid before. But there is only one thing that has ever scared him like this.
One person.
"Da-ge."
"Stay behind me," says Lan Xichen. "A-Yao. A-Yao, behind me."
Jin Guangyao stumbles behind him, clutches at his robes and his hair and his ribbon. Lan Xichen breathes deep. He raises Liebing, and he begins to play.
Nie Mingjue was fast in life, and he is faster in death. He appears between the trees like a lightning flash, eyes red and lips drawn back to reveal teeth and pale, bloodless gums. He is wearing the robes in which he was entombed: the greys and bronzes of the Nie, with a taotie snarling from his belt. He is so very fast.
Lan Xichen feints, twisting aside and keeping Jin Guangyao behind him. He plays music that speaks of peace, of acceptance and oblivion. He does not allow his hands or his breath or his heart to falter.
Nie Mingjue slows, but he does not stop. He prowls again towards Lan Xichen, his raging eyes on Jin Guangyao, resentment rumbling in his throat.
Lan Xichen plays a quick scatter of notes as a distraction and then returns to a softer, soothing tune. Nie Mingjue tips his head back and now he stops. For a moment it seems as though he is listening—and then he sinks down onto the ground and lies there unmoving, his crimson eyes staring furiously up at nothing.
There are bloodstains on his hands.
Lan Xichen lowers Liebing and glances over his shoulder.
"I do not know how long I can hold him," he murmurs. His stomach turns to see their sworn brother reduced to this, suborned by the resentment he withstood for so long.
"He's coming for me." Jin Guangyao releases Lan Xichen and stumbles back. His eyes are only on Nie Mingjue. "He broke out. He broke out." He laughs suddenly, shrilly. "Of course he did."
"A-Yao." Lan Xichen seizes his hands and looks into his eyes. "You're safe. Send a message to Huaisang and the Nie will come for Da-ge to re-inter him."
"He'll break out again."
"We will take additional precautions."
"What tomb exists that can hold Chifeng-zun?" Jin Guangyao's breath is coming harsh and fast. "He killed the first Jin he found. He's been heading for Lanling."
"I know." It was Nie Mingjue's misplaced fury at Jin Guangyao that caused the qi deviation that resulted in his death, and Lan Xichen has not forgotten the aftermath of that tragedy. It is only thanks to Nie Huaisang that there were not more casualties, and Lan Xichen himself assisted in the efforts to suppress the resentful energy pervading Nie Mingjue's corpse before it was removed to be subjected to the secret rites of the Nie.
Whatever those rites were, they were not sufficient. Lan Xichen will press the point with Nie Huaisang this time, and he does not think he will meet with resistance. Nie Mingjue deserves better than this ignominy.
"Er-ge," gasps Jin Guangyao. "He—he blames me for killing him."
"You were not at fault. Resentment can sometimes be without reason." Lan Xichen squeezes his hands again. "A-Yao, you have nothing to fear."
Behind them, Nie Mingjue begins to stir again.
Lan Xichen sends Jin Guangyao back to Lanling, though not before a golden butterfly has been despatched with all speed to send a message to the Unclean Realm. He himself remains in the clearing with their sworn brother as the stars sink and the sun rises, playing gentle melodies without ceasing. He had strength enough to prevail against Nie Mingjue in life, but in death it is another matter. Da-ge's fury is greater now even than it had been at the moment of his death.
It was grief enough to lose him. To see him like this, still so utterly lost, is almost beyond enduring. Lan Xichen closes his eyes against the harsh light of day and pours everything he has into the music.
It is well past noon when the Nie arrive: several senior disciples flying in formation, Nie Huaisang clinging to the foremost and staring ahead like a man awaiting his own execution. When they land he staggers forward and goes to his knees at his brother's side.
"Da-ge?"
Nie Mingjue is silent, but limbs that had trembled and strained against the ministrations of Liebing fall briefly quiescent. Nie Huaisang wraps soft hands around his brother's bloodstained fingers, and Lan Xichen stops playing. His chest aches.
"A-Yao has returned to Lanling; we judged it best if he kept his distance. However, I'm happy to remain if my assistance would be welcome."
"No need," says Nie Huaisang. "The Nie will take care of him."
Lan Xichen inclines his head in acknowledgement. He cannot fault Nie Huaisang for this. He would feel the same, if it were Wangji.
He takes his leave, disguising his reluctance, and flies in haste to Pan Manor to inform the grateful family that the pass is safe again. He refuses payment, and departs as soon after dinner as is polite, then flies arrow-fast to Lanling, alighting directly outside the Fragrant Palace with its gleaming pillars.
He asks the nearest disciple as to Jin-zongzhu's whereabouts, and is directed to one of the gilded pavilions at the heart of the ornamental gardens. Jin Guangyao is indeed there, smiling his gentle smile, listening intently as one of his less bearable cousins holds forth regarding the importance of discipline in a young man's education. Nearby sit two amahs: one cradling a sleeping Jin Rusong, and the other feeding Jin Ling fruit candies as he throws brightly-coloured marbles off the edge of the pavilion and into the pond below.
Jin Guangyao smiles widely up at Lan Xichen. He is still very pale.
"Er-ge. How glad I am to see you; would you care to join us for refreshments?"
Lan Xichen accepts, and there is some general movement as the others make room for Zewu-jun to take his place at his sworn brother's side. Jin Guangyao pours the tea with hands that hardly tremble.
"Am I to understand the matter we previously discussed has now been resolved?"
"It has," says Lan Xichen, and meets his eyes. "A-Yao need not think of it again."
Less than a month later, Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao are lodging north-west of Lanling City when they hear tell of a strange presence that has dogged a line of trading caravans since they crossed the border from Qinghe. Other beings flee at its approach, and the caravans have been untroubled by beast or bandit. Yet the atmosphere is oppressive, and at night they dare not light fires.
Jin Guangyao assures the anxious merchants that the matter will be attended to. Then he and Lan Xichen retreat to their room and Jin Guangyao draws closed the shutters and places a series of talismans. Some are drawn in blood, and Lan Xichen sighs.
"A-Yao."
"It is him," says Jin Guangyao. His voice is quite calm and his face is without expression. His gaze is distant.
"That is far from certain."
"It is him." Jin Guangyao places another talisman. Lan Xichen closes his eyes and breathes deeply again.
"I will write to Huaisang."
A season passes. Jin Guangyao is appointed Chief Cultivator, and shortly afterwards the builders break ground on the first of the watchtowers. Lan Xichen spends a number of weeks at Koi Tower assisting with conference planning and demonstrating his continued public support for Jin-xiandu, while privately he worries that A-Yao is not eating or sleeping enough. Jin Guangyao's pleasure in his position is strangely dulled, and he flinches at loud noises.
Lan Xichen would prefer to stay longer, but he has other duties to consider and must return home for a little while to see his family and ensure all is in order. Once he has spoken with Wangji and satisfied himself that the Cloud Recesses continues to run smoothly under his uncle's guidance, he travels to the Unclean Realm.
He is met with an eager reception from Nie Huaisang, who falls on his neck as soon as they are alone.
"Er-ge, you have to help me," he wails. "He's gone again!"
"Huaisang, this is the third time." Lan Xichen pats his back. "Perhaps something in addition to the Nie's usual precautions is needed."
"I know, but I can't think of anything. San-ge tried to offer me help to guard the tomb, but I can't allow Jin disciples to settle near our ancestral halls. Can I? I don't know!"
"I agree it would be inappropriate," says Lan Xichen as Nie Huaisang sniffles. "And hardly a permanent solution. What of your own disciples? I am surprised they have had such little success in keeping Da-ge subdued. It is helpful that now we are warned when he rouses and breaks free, but A-Yao remains very anxious."
"What permanent solution is there?" whines Nie Huaisang, clinging yet more tightly. "Da-ge won't relent until San-ge is dead!"
That has been apparent for quite a while now, but Lan Xichen does not point it out. It is difficult enough for Nie Huaisang to lead his clan and meet his obligations without these constant reminders rubbing salt into the wound of his grief. Better if he continues to have faith that Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao will succeed in subduing Nie Mingjue even if they cannot bring him the peace he deserves.
"I will think further on the matter. Have you sent word to A-Yao yet?"
Nie Huaisang raises his head and stares up at Lan Xichen in sudden contrition.
"I forgot."
"You forgot." Lan Xichen pauses, then brings forth a reassuring smile. "How long is it since this latest incident?"
"Oh, only a week. Or so. Certainly no more than a month."
"Huaisang." Lan Xichen's hands fall to his sides.
"I'm sorry!" cries Nie Huaisang. "I meant to write, but everyone is always asking me questions! And I sent disciples to try to find Da-ge and bring him back quickly so San-ge didn't have to worry, but none of them have returned yet."
Lan Xichen is already stepping back.
"I will find him," he says. "Send a messenger now to Lanling, the swiftest you have. Remember to use the code A-Yao devised for you."
"I will," promises Nie Huaisang, and looks so dejected that Lan Xichen reaches out again to clasp his shoulder in reassurance.
"I believe there is little harm done. Once I have located Da-ge I will send word."
"Thank you, Er-ge." Nie Huaisang stares up at him with damp eyes, as lost and helpless as a kitten in the rain. "I truly am sorry. I really don't know how this happened."
Lan Xichen flies as slowly as he dares from Qinghe to Lanling, seeking any sign of Nie Mingjue's fierce corpse. He encounters several ghosts, a variety of ghouls, and a fox spirit in need of assistance. But his sworn brother's trail is cold.
On the fourth day he rises from a brief period of sleep and is rinsing his face in a nearby stream when he catches a familiar gleam at the corner of his eye. Smiling he holds out one damp hand, and the golden butterfly alights on his fingers and warms them with its touch.
Then it delivers its message and his smile disappears.
This time a pair of disciples move to intercept Lan Xichen as he approaches the entrance to the Fragrant Palace. They bow deep.
"Jin-furen is within."
"And where is Jin-zongzhu?"
The disciples exchange a glance.
"It is not currently known."
Some secret place, then, attending to matters best not shared with Lan Xichen. Ordinarily this would make Lan Xichen relax, but this is not ordinarily.
"I see. Thank you; I will await him in my room. Please ensure he receives my message as soon as he returns."
"Of course, Zewu-jun." Both disciples bow again and withdraw. Lan Xichen must turn away. Perhaps if he were closer to Qin Su he would ask to speak with her, but their relationship has never progressed beyond public cordiality and he knows she is privy to almost nothing of what her husband must do even now to maintain their security.
He returns to the room Jin Guangyao keeps for him, but he cannot settle. He paces, and reproaches himself for pacing, and continues to pace. He is soothed only when he hears a familiar knock at the door and Jin Guangyao's beloved face comes into view.
Lan Xichen crosses the room in almost a single stride.
"You are unhurt."
"I am." Jin Guangyao closes the door behind him, and does not have the chance to sink into a bow because Lan Xichen catches his arms before he can even move. His lips part in shock, and then he lets out a breath of laughter. "Er-ge."
"You said you had found him."
"I had." Jin Guangyao laughs again, strained this time. "He found me. But he is restrained now."
"You have discovered a way to suppress him?"
"No," says Jin Guangyao, and shudders. "I can find—nothing. Nothing at all. No cultivation technique, no demonic trick. I have searched these past months for solutions and today I have tried them each in turn. He won't stop until he's killed me."
"Or even then," murmurs Lan Xichen. To kill Jin Guangyao would only increase Nie Mingjue's resentment. Should he succeed in such a terrible act he would then turn his rage on Jin Guangyao's kin: his clan, and his wife and child. And then... Lan Xichen does not like to imagine that either. "It is not ideal and Huaisang will not like it, but perhaps the suggestion of an additional guard has some merit. If disciples of the Jin and the Lan assist, it's possible Da-ge can be properly sealed until his resentment dissipates. I do not know how long it would take; many years, I suspect. But I cannot currently think of a better alternative."
Jin Guangyao pulls his arms from Lan Xichen's hold.
"He will break out again." His fingers flex, hooking into claws. His mouth works, unable to form a smile. "Er-ge, I have never given you any reason not to trust me, have I?"
"You have not," agrees Lan Xichen readily enough.
"Then trust me now." Jin Guangyao succeeds in smiling, and it is dreadful to behold. "Leave this matter in my hands and tell Huaisang you could not find Da-ge. I will take care of the rest."
There passes a long moment of silence.
Lan Xichen has never doubted Jin Guangyao, but he has never been given reason to doubt. This, perhaps, is a reason.
"Er-ge," whispers Jin Guangyao. His exhausted eyes are pleading. Terrified. "I swear to you, this is for the best."
Jin Guangyao has only ever done what is necessary. He has only ever had the best of intentions. Lan Xichen has never seen a shred of evidence to the contrary.
"What of Huaisang?" he asks. "Is it best for him too?"
"Better than the alternative," says Jin Guangyao.
Lan Xichen draws a deep breath. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again he has made his decision. It could never have been anything else.
"I will help you."
Jin Guangyao sighs like a dying man.
"Er-ge," he says with quiet reverence.
"With everything," says Lan Xichen.
"Er-ge—"
"With everything." Lan Xichen never interrupts. He pauses to gather his composure again. "A-Yao. It's Da-ge. I loved him as a brother, just as you did, and if I am to condone your solution then I owe it to him not to close my eyes and simply stand aside. We will shoulder this burden together."
"If I tell you, you will not help me." Jin Guangyao's voice is smooth but his fingers are flexing again, clutching at the edges of his own sleeves. Lan Xichen nods.
"I understand that is what you fear." He lowers his voice. "But I have also never given you any reason not to trust me."
Jin Guangyao stares up at him. He cannot have slept for days, and the vermilion mark is the only colour in his livid face. Lan Xichen looks back without flinching.
"Will you trust me now?" he asks.
Lan Xichen stands in a windowless room lit by oil lamps. The walls are lined with shelves and cabinets, all filled with books and weapons and other strange and terrible artefacts. Behind him is a desk. Before him is an iron table.
Nie Mingjue is lying on the tabletop, tightly bound by iron chains. He strains up against them, and the metal shrieks in protest. The links will not hold indefinitely.
"Da-ge," murmurs Lan Xichen, to no avail. Nie Mingjue's dead and bloodshot gaze does not waver, and he continues to glare across the room to where Jin Guangyao stands with his back to the wall and his hands pressed over his ears.
"I promise," says Lan Xichen, to the both of them. "I will keep searching for a better way."
And he brings down the axe in a single decisive sweep.