22. A Forest Prince

It didn’t take long to realize that Lan Yi had not pushed Ying’er out with them. Yanli fretted for a moment by the cliff-face but realized there wasn’t much any of them could do about it. They were all three in their underclothes and shoeless, in no way presentable to polite society or able to try attacking the wall they had apparently been pushed through.

Not that A’Cheng didn’t try.

“Give him back! Give him back right now!” He banged his fists against the rock.

“A’Cheng—”

“Oh, let him go,” A’Yao said with a sour tone.

She looked over at him in surprise. He was standing there with a cross expression and his arms folded over his chest.

“A’Yao, don’t be petty.”

“No, A’Li, I have to disagree. This is an excellent time to be petty. He made us sick with worry, and now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.”

She sighed, because he was right and she had to admit she was feeling a little petty about it herself. The boys had drugged them and then caused them a lifetime’s worth of fear and anguish. Letting A’Yao offload his frustration by passively watching A’Cheng make a fool out of himself seemed like a minor sin in comparison. Instead, she continued trying to wring water out of her skirt.

He shook his head before continuing.

“It’s not like we need to be worried. The Lan ancestor, who I assume was Lan Yi, obviously kept both Lan Wangji and Ying’er back for a reason. I can’t imagine any scenario where her intent is ill meant, or that she would harm them. So I get to appreciate A’Cheng’s comeuppance for a moment.”

“Mn,” she hummed noncommittally, which made A’Yao look adorably smug since he knew that meant she agreed.

“AAAAARGHHHH!!!” A’Cheng went for a flying kick against the stone cliff-face in his bare feet, then fell down. “Ow!”

A’Yao rolled his eyes and finally went over to help him.

“Ah! Hello! Who are you?”

They all spun around to face the speaker. He was a Lan disciple who bore a striking resemblance to Lan Wangji, if taller, and was adorned in exquisite robes of high status. Positioned in the dappled light among the trees, he radiated a casual, humble magnificence and the very air around him glittered with power, like a mythological prince straight out of ancient tales. Yanli thought she heard A’Cheng choking behind her.

Then she noticed that he also had four other, lower ranking disciples around him who had, to a man, unsheathed their swords and were pointing them at Yanli.

There was only one person who that could be, she reasoned.

“Lan Xichen, First Jade of Lan, I presume?” Yanli stepped forward and bowed. “This one is Meng Jiayi. My brothers, first brother Meng Yao and third brother Meng Cheng.” They had both trotted over to stand next to her, or limped over in A’Cheng’s case, and bowed appropriately—although she noted that A’Cheng could not take his eyes off Lan Xichen.

To be fair, Yanli really couldn’t blame him. The last time she had seen Lan Xichen, he still had a bit of the babyfat that his younger brother yet carried, and was at least a head shorter. He was always destined to grow into a magnificent cultivator, but it seems to Yanli that he had outstripped all expectations. He was so strikingly beautiful and his qi so strong that everyone around him just looked drab and dim.

Lan Xichen bowed back politely. “It is unusual to find commoners in the backfields of Cloud Recesses. May I ask where you came from?”

A’Yao plastered on his most polite expression, ready to lie to the furthest reaches of plausibility, but Yanli put a hand on his arm.

“We are a small family from Yiling, in Yunmeng,” she said instead.

All the Lans glanced at each other in confusion. Lan Xichen, perhaps unwisely, motioned for them to put away their weapons. He seemed far too trusting.

“You are a long way from home.”

“Mn. We did not get here in a conventional manner. First Brother and I were looking for our younger brothers.”

Lan Xichen flinched, and she knew she had hit home.

“I assume you are looking for your younger brother as well?”

“How do you know that?” One of the fiercer looking young Lans shouted.

“Su Minshan,” Lan Xichen said warningly, and the disciple settled back into line, if a bit resentfully.

“There are four of us, but as you can see, there are only three here. Second Brother is still trapped in an ice cave with Lan Wangji when we last saw them.”

For the first time, Lan Xichen turned a little frosty himself. “And how is it you are here, and they are not?”

“I believe Lan Yi had something she wished to discuss with them,” she said with an apologetic smile and without much expectation that he would believe her. Lan Xichen, who was much more emotive than his brother, let out a little gasp as his eyes widened in shock.

“Liar!” Su Minshan shouted again. “Young Master Lan, they probably killed them and left them for dead!”

“How dare you!” Meng Yao snapped, stepping forward as A’Cheng made a noise like an angry cat.

“Everyone calm down.” Lan Xichen did not yell, but it had the same effect, given his stern tone and the firmness of his command. Truly a young master of a great sect, Yanli thought with a pang of regret. A’Cheng could have had that kind of presence, but then she considered: at what price?

When everyone quieted, Lan Xichen studied Yanli for a while, then turned his focus on Meng Yao. Given that he was the eldest male of the three of them, it made sense, but it still rankled Yanli’s pride.

“It is an odd defense, to bring up our long-dead ancestor, Lan Yi.”

Meng Yao bowed deferentially. “My apologies for saying so, but either she is not as dead as previously reported, or her spirit is indeed very powerful. She appeared out of nowhere when we were trapped in a cold cave deep within the mountain, then somehow she pushed me, my elder sister, and younger brother out through that wall.”

“Hm.” Lan Xichen looked at them, then back at the cliff face. He seemed very worried, which struck Yanli as odd. Wangji had barely been there a few minutes with them.

“Young Master Lan, if I may ask, how long has your brother been missing?”

“A full day.”

A’Cheng gasped, and looked over at her with a worried expression.

Meng Yao frowned. “What is the date, today?”

He told them, and it was Yanli’s turn to frown.

“We have not been gone for five days!” A’Cheng exclaimed. Yanli nodded. Meng Yao looked like he was lost in the calculations, gazing off into the distance.

“Young Master Lan, your brother showed up less than a quarter hour ago in the cave. And I would swear to you that only a day or so has passed since our own journey began. Not five.”

Meng Yao nodded in agreement. A’Cheng looked pensive for a moment, then jumped in place. “JieJie! Our chickens!”

“Oh dear,” she said with dismay, and glanced at Meng Yao who was also cringing a little. They had not let the chickens out of the coop before their headlong rush to the Burial Mounds. If any were still alive—a slim possibility—they would not make it for the duration of them traveling back to Yiling from Gusu. “I’m sorry, A’Cheng.”

“Aw. Princess was such a good layer!”

Lan Xichen looked between them curiously, then motioned Su Minshan forward. “Set guards for this area, and notify me immediately if anything unusual happens.” He approached Yanli and Meng Yao.

“As it stands, there is very little we can do here, for now. Please follow me to our guest quarters, and we will provide you with, uhm, suitable clothing.” A fine pink blush ran across the bridge of his nose as he turned to lead the way, and it was only then that Yanli realized she had been conversing casually with the First Jade of Lan, the heir of Gusu Lan and the number one gentleman of her generation, while wearing her underclothes.

Meng Yao seemed to clock it at the same time and aggressively put himself in front of her, while A’Cheng took up the place behind her as they were marched along into the heart of the Cloud Recesses. Yanli marveled that Lan Xichen had not recognized her, but then again, it had been years since they had last met, and she was both taller and plumper than she had been back then.

As they walked along the trails, which were well kept up but rustic, Yanli’s exhaustion caught up to her. She stumbled twice, and ended up being propped up against A’Yao as they walked. Lan Xichen stopped the procession when he noticed.

“Do you need to see a healer, Miss Meng?”

“No, no. I am simply very tired. The run up the mountain into the Burial Mounds and then jumping into the blood pool took a lot out of me. I’m sure I just need a nap,” she said, feeling her mouth slur the words. She glanced up and saw a look of horror overtake Lan Xichen’s pretty face.

“Blood pool?”

“I think, Young Master Lan, that a healer might be called for,” Meng Yao said politely as he swung Yanli up into his arms.

“You’ve gotten so strong, A’Yao,” she said, patting his chest and resting her head on his shoulder with a pleased hum.

“Yanli,” A’Yao hissed in a strangled voice, but his words faded out as her world went dark.