21. The Lan

“Who are you?” Ying’er gasped, eyes wide as platters, his mouth hanging open. The Lan boy looked him over, startled, and seemed unable to look away.

“Young Master Lan!” Yanli scrambled to her feet, feeling twice as cold now that she was twice as wet. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

The Lan boy ignored her completely to step forward, glaring at Ying’er, swinging his arm out as if gesturing with his scabbard only to find his hand was empty. He stared at it for a moment before re-aligning his focus on Ying’er. “Remove yourself!”

“Uh, no! If I let go, these strings will try to kill us all!”

“Young Master,” Meng Yao said firmly, stepping in front of Ying’er. The Lan boy just glared harder. “The instrument is magically possessed. If Ying’er, ah, Second Brother lets go, it performs the Chord Assassination Technique. He is currently the one keeping us all alive.”

The Lan boy’s expression faltered for a moment, but then evened out. “We are trespassing.”

“No kidding! We all want to leave, but we can’t get out!” A’Cheng snapped. “Are you going to help or just stand there glaring at us?”

He continued to glare, but shuffled forward in the water towards where Ying’er sat with the guqin. Yanli had to admire the boy’s grace and elegance, despite being sopping wet and clearly thrown off his game. He stopped and inspected the instrument carefully.

“This is Lan Yi’s instrument.”

“That’s nice. Good to know. Who the fuck is Lan Yi?” A’Cheng drawled, rolling his eyes. Yanli quickly stepped up, pushing A’Cheng aside before everything devolved into fisticuffs.

“Young Master Lan, I am Meng Jiayi. These are my younger brothers. We do not mean to be here, and are uncertain of exactly how we got here, to be honest. We are from Yiling, in Yunmeng territory. We do not even know where we are, other than, I assume, within Gusu.”

His stoney gaze turned to her, and she realized how young he was, possibly about the same age as the boys. He even had a bit of baby fat clinging to his cheeks, despite his stature and obvious athleticism.

“Cloud Recesses.”

“Which is within Gusu, like she said!” A’Cheng groaned, earning another fierce glare from the Lan boy, before he turned back to Yanli with his unsettlingly blank expression. After a moment, he raised his hands in a slight bow.

“Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji.”

Yanli gasped, and Meng Yao took a step backwards. The boys looked at each other, confused. She made a note to do better on their current events classwork.

She bowed more deeply, as a commoner would to such a high-ranking cultivator, even though she was older than he was. “Our deepest apologies, Second Young Master Lan.”

Ying’er let out a soft “Ohhhhh!” while A’Cheng’s eyes went wide, and he shuffled closer to Yanli.

Lan Wangji motioned at Ying’er again. “Release Lan Yi’s guqin. You have no right to touch it.”

“Hey! Did you miss the part where it is trying to kill us?” Ying’er yelled at him.

“I will lead you all out of this cave, but you must first take your hands off the guqin. Immediately.” He rolled his shoulders back, as if readying for a fight. Meng Yao sent Yanli a concerned look.

“I can’t! Did you hit your head? Do you not understand the words coming out of my mouth?”

“Release it.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?!?!”

“Release it!”

“Make me!” Ying’er actually stuck out his tongue.

Meng Yao put a hand over his eyes in consternation while Yanli called out, “Ying’er!”

Lan Wangji lunged forward and grabbed Ying’er’s wrists, determined to pull him off the guqin, but before he could put all his strength into the attack, A’Cheng body-slammed him.

“Let go of my brother!”

“Release me!”

“Ahhhhhh! Ow ow ow!”

At Ying’er’s pained cry, Meng Yao threw himself between him and Lan Wangji, trying to claw his fingers off of Ying’er’s wrists. Yanli grabbed A’Cheng around the waist, but was feeling both the exhaustion of her ordeal and the fact that he was a 15-year-old, strong cultivator in his own right. This was not the little boy she could easily drag away from a candy vendor’s stall anymore.

They were no better than a tangle of water-logged rats wrestling with each other, and even the stoic, graceful Second Jade of Lan was gracelessly thrashing in the water. Ying’er heroically kept his hands pressed down on the guqin’s strings, but the tussle was dragging him closer to the edge of the water, the legs of the stand holding the instrument scraping across the rock as his strength brought it with him.

And then everything stopped.

“What?” Ying’er yelped, hanging in the air. He was being held up not quite by the scruff of his neck, but by the back of his robes, which were tightly gripped in the hands of a Lan disciple. Or elder. Yanli was not sure.

The woman, who was tall for a woman but no taller than Ying’er himself, was holding him in the air with no difficulty at all. Her expression had the disdainful air of a market auntie holding a skinny chicken. Her other hand was held out, hovering over the guqin, the strength of her qi holding it in check.

A second later, the removal of Ying’er from their scrabbling caused the rest of them to all tumble backwards into the water, as graceful as drunkards.

They stood up sputtering, Yanli pulling on Meng Yao to make sure he did not breathe in any water. A’Cheng gave Lan Wangji a resentful shove, and got one in return.

“Boys,” said the woman, and everyone froze. “And young miss.” She tipped her head at Yanli, who let go of A’Yao and promptly bowed back, as low as she could, without smashing her face into the water. She heard A’Yao and A”Cheng follow her lead.

When she stood up again, she saw Lan Wangji was looking at the Lan elder as if seeing a goddess made flesh. Maybe he was? Yanli was not quite as versed on Gusu Lan mythology as, say, Lanling Jin. Unfortunately.

“Um. Honorable Lady Lan? This lowly one asks to be let down? Lowered? Released? Please?” Ying’er kicked his feet in the air. Blood was dripping off his hands, which was probably why he was not trying to grapple with the woman out of fear of staining the pristine white sleeves of her robes. At least it showed some of the legendary intelligence that Yanli knew was there under Ying’er’s impulsiveness.

“Hm.” The woman shifted lightly on her feet and tossed him into the drink without much effort, where he splashed around for a moment before A’Cheng pulled him up and they leaned on each other while Ying’er got his bearings. Lan Wangji was back to glaring at him, specifically. Yanli was not sure what that was about.

“This Meng Ying thanks—”

“Enough.”

His mouth snapped shut.

She sat down at the guqin and, with a simple gesture, cleared it of all his blood.

“You have sacrificed much to protect your family.” She looked up and focused on Ying’er. A shiver went down Yanli’s spine, and she stepped forward, not quite in front of him, but angling to take on the elder’s attention.

“This Meng Jiayi thanks the Lan Elder for her generosity and compassion. We are here by mistake, and have no desire to disturb your…uh, seclusion.”

“You are not Meng Jiayi. There is no Meng Jiayi.” The woman looked at her. It felt like being cored by sunlight, her qi was so strong and pure. Even Xiao Xingchen would have found her intimidating, Yanli thought, and she would have guessed the woman was Baoshan Sanren herself if not for the Lan head ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s attention zeroed in on her immediately when the elder spoke, but Yanli ignored him, keeping her focus on the woman who very likely held all their lives in the palm of her hand.

“There is no Meng Jiayi,” she said in agreement, bowing again.

“You are connected to Baoshan Sanren,” she stated, turning her gaze back to Ying’er. Lan Wangji visibly startled at that, looking quizzically at him.

“I am. She is my martial grandmaster, my mother’s master. Xiao Xingchen is my martial uncle, and is training me. My mother was Cangse Sanren.” He bowed, his hands still red with blood, if watered down.

“I do not know those other names, but I respect your lineage.” She turned to Lan Wangji. “You are my direct descendant.”

He bowed, and Yanli thought he would have kowtowed if not for standing hip deep in cold water. “I am Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji, honored ancestor.”

“Hm.” She looked around and gestured at the rabbits, who had returned from lurking in the corners of the cave. They hopped over and she petted them. “The rest of you may go.”

She waved her hand and Yanli felt herself being pushed out of the cave, much as she had been dragged down into the blood pool. She rolled out onto soft grass in front of a tall cliff, and part of her just wanted to lie there for a while, staring up at the brilliant blue sky above.

But she dragged herself to her feet, trying to adjust her robes—the one layer she had remaining—into some fashion of decency. They weren’t in an ice cave anymore, but she was still sopping wet and the air was crisp and cold.

Beside her, A’Yao and A’Cheng were also awkwardly getting up off the ground.

She looked around. “Where is Ying’er?”