53. The Fall of Gusu Lan

The hardest part of listening to Lan Qiren’s long recounting of the conquest of the Cloud Recesses from his sick bed was keeping Wei Ying and Nie Mingjue from running out of the room to go kill Wen Chao. Or, in Nie Mingjue’s case, Wen Zhuliu.

“He…it was. Awful.” Lan Qiren closed his eyes, but the tears were obvious.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying croaked, held in place by A’Cheng.

“No. No, just…Xichen. As an…an example. My A’Huan, I’m so sorry,” Lan Qiren gasped, a hand over his mouth.

Silence filled the room. Lan Xichen, the First Jade of Lan, highest ranked of his generation and also possibly the generations before and after him, had become a victim of the Core Melting Hand. Lan Qiren did not even know if his nephew was still alive, and chances were very good he was not. He shook his head to clear it while Nie Mingjue stood there looking like he had been sliced open, Nie Zonghui and another cousin clutching at his arms in case he tried to make another break for the door.

“Wangji…I thought he had heeded my order and escaped with a collection of our most sacred writings. Everything else burned.” He had to stop again to breathe slowly, closing his eyes in order to concentrate. The Nie doctor studied him with worried eyes.

“He hid in the forests. He rescued the remainder of us, three elders and over two dozen disciples under guard. I believe Wen Chao was going to deliver us one by one to the Core Melting Hand for amusement. But Wangji, he got us out. Took on seven Wen guards and led us to a safe route down the mountain, then served as a distraction to give us time. We all made it to the river and stole a boat to come upriver, but Wangji did not follow. I do not know his fate.”

“Where is everyone else?” Nie Popo asked softly, moving to stand in front of Nie Mingjue, her very presence holding him in place—or holding him together, Yanli could not tell.

“Many hid in the cold pond caves, but they are trapped there now with no hope of rescue." The grim fate of those people weighed down everyone in the room. Lan Qiren took a deep breath to continue. "The ones Wanji rescued, I told to disperse while I undertook the journey here. Take what money they had on them and buy new robes, hide their forehead ribbons, and stay out of danger if possible. They might be all who are left of the Lan... I never thought I would give such an order, believing it better to die than to compromise our principles. But never… never in my life did I think that the price of Lan pride would be A’Huan’s golden core. His life.” He bowed his head as the words tapered off, and it was clear that he had reached his limit for the time being. The doctor chased them out of the room as Lan Qiren’s tears spilled down onto his chest.

Yanli stood outside the healing pavilion in a daze. Seeing a man as proud and regal as Lan Qiren reduced to tears as he spoke of doing things he would have had disciples whipped for in the past—removing their forehead ribbons, lying about their identities, stealing a boat—was heartbreaking. She could only imagine how badly his will had broken when he watched his cherished nephew be tortured and destroyed in front of his eyes.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she thought she would be sick.

“JieJie?” A’Cheng said softly. He still had one hand wrapped around Ying’er’s arm, keeping him from running off. “Come on, JieJie. Let’s go back to the guest house.” He took the lead for a change, dragging a stunned Ying’er along and looking back at Yanli every few steps. When they got to their pavilion, Meng Shi and Liu Peng ushered them in and chivvied them to sit as hot water burbled over a brazier for tea.

A’Yao pulled Yanli down next to him on one of the loungers while A’Cheng bullied Ying’er back into his daybed.

“Was it that bad?” A’Yao asked softly. He had wanted to stay with them, but he had already been sweating from exertion by the time Lan Qiren had been carried to the healing pavilion, and Yanli had ordered him to escort Meng Shi back to their quarters. It said a lot that he had not argued about it.

Meng Shi settled a blanket over Ying’er (who seemed to have gone into a fugue state) and eyed Yanli critically.

“Worse than bad,” A’Cheng answered for them. “The Cloud Recesses was mostly burned to the ground. At least half the disciples are dead, and nearly all the elder council. Lan Xichen…” he paused, looking at A’Yao warily. “Wen Zhuliu got to him. On Wen Chao’s orders, apparently.”

A’Yao gasped, one hand flying to his belly.

A’Cheng nodded. “Lan Wangji is missing. He got his uncle and few other Lan prisoners out, then used himself as bait to lead the Wen away. No word of where he went.” A’Cheng held back from saying “he’s presumed dead” although it hung in the air. He glanced at Ying’er.

“He’s not dead,” Ying’er said, his voice dull and dry.

Yanli looked at A’Yao, but neither said anything. A’Cheng huffed, but also held his tongue. Liu Peng went around checking all their pillows again, before turning to focus on the tea. Meng Shi sat in her favorite chair, looking grim.

It could have been any other night of the past week, except for the weight of grief they all felt. Yanli thought that she would always have been sad to hear of Lan Xichen’s fate, but now, having met him, it was so much worse. He had been such a good man, and it was a tragic loss for the whole jianghu. She did not even realize she was crying until A’Yao gently wiped tears from her cheek with his sleeve.

“Lan Zhan is not dead,” Ying’er repeated with a snarl, still staring at the ceiling.

“This happened days ago,” A’Cheng continued. “Lan Qiren has his sword, but he was badly injured from the fighting and could not use it except for short flights to get over rough terrain, so he’s been traveling by foot this whole time while already injured. From the sound of it, everyone who survived was injured to some degree, which is probably why he told them all to go into hiding. Lan Wangji escaped the worst of the battle because Lan Qiren sent him off with a collection of their sacred texts, to preserve them, but when he came back to rescue the prisoners, he was wounded in the fighting. Grandmaster Lan has no idea of how badly. The rest of the survivors he saved scattered once they got up river.”

When he finished, they all lapsed into silence again. Liu Peng came up to stand behind Yanli, and started taking the pins out of her hair and undoing the fancy braids. It felt like a lifetime ago that A’Cheng was putting her hair up, Yanli thought.

A’Yao took a deep breath. “It’s telling that he did not even try to get to Lanling, given how close it is.”

Yanli nodded, considering it. “He thought Sect Leader Jin would hand him over to the Wen, didn’t he?”

Both A’Yao and A’Cheng nodded.

“Lan Zhan is alive and I need to find him!” Ying’er announced and threw off the blanket.

Everyone scrambled to stop him, but it was A’Cheng who got there first. “I will break your legs if you try going after him!”

“He’s alive!”

“You can’t help him if you’re barely able to stand up! Your hands aren’t even fully healed!” A’Cheng pushed him back down on the bed far too easily. “You’ll just weigh him down and get him killed trying to protect you!”

Ying’er blanched at that and snapped his mouth shut.

There was a rapping at the door. Liu Peng looked at Yanli, who nodded. It was late, but they were not in a position to turn away guests at that point. She stood, and the others followed her lead—except for Ying’er, who sat on the bed with folded arms, looking murderous, A’Cheng’s hand on his shoulder holding him in place.

Nie Popo, back in her battle dress, and Nie Zonghui followed Liu Peng in and bowed.

“Sect Leader Wei, we regret to disturb you at this time. I know we are all reeling from the word out of Gusu,” Nie Popo said.

“We are at your service, Nie Popo. Is there further news?”

Nie Zonghui grimaced. “No. We are here by order of our sect leader to request the assistance of the Yiling Wei sect.”

Yanli nodded for him to continue, but he just stood there, looking conflicted, until Nie Popo rolled her eyes.

“My grandson is being held back from heading straight into Gusu by a thread. He is aware, however, that the Nie sect needs him here. He is sending a scouting squad east, to travel covertly and look for Lan Wangji, and possibly discover the fate of Lan Xichen.” She stopped for a moment, her grief overtaking her. It hit Yanli then that the woman had watched Lan Xichen grow up—as such a close friend of her grandson, he had probably visited them often.

“He has asked me to convey to you the request that Wei Ying travel with the squad.”

Ying’er stood up so fast that he lost his balance and had to be set to rights by A’Cheng, who hissed at him.

“No.” Yanli spoke clearly and concisely.

“JieJie!” Ying’er cried out disbelievingly.

She ignored him. “He’s not well enough to travel, certainly not in the hard scrabble way such a squad would have to journey to remain undetected. Furthermore, his recent interaction with the yin shards, however much it won the battle for us, also made him vulnerable to possession by Wen Ruohan himself. I cannot allow him to undertake such a mission.”

“JieJie, I’ll be fine—”

“Wei Ying: be quiet.” She turned to him and put everything she had into radiating “sect leader energy.” He paused, shocked, and stared at her wordlessly. She was not sure she had ever spoken so harshly to him in his entire life, but he was not a small boy anymore and it was time to remind him of that. “You are a senior disciple of Yiling Wei, and one of my most valuable sect members. You are also my younger brother. You will do as I say.”

A’Cheng’s eyes were wide as saucers, but A’Yao was trying to hide a smirk. He really had a vicious streak sometimes, she marveled. But, that was for later. She turned back to the Nie.

“Wei Ying cannot do this, even if I was inclined to allow him to try, which I am not.”

Nie Popo nodded in understanding. “I cannot fault you for that decision, Sect Leader Wei. Please understand that we had to ask.”

Yanli nodded. “Of course. If I may offer an alternative?”

Nie Zonghui cocked his head. “An alternative?”

“It would serve our sects well to work collaboratively. Furthermore, as Lan Wangji is my younger brother’s betrothed, we are invested in saving him, if possible. My resources are minimal.” She gestured at her family. “But not insubstantial. I would like to offer Senior Disciple Wei Cheng to go in Wei Ying’s stead. He does not have the power of the yin shards to command, but he is a strong cultivator and quite an excellent hunter. He is a student of the great Taoist master Song Lan, and he wields the legendary spiritual weapon Zidian.”

A’Cheng looked more shocked than any of them for a moment, but then straightened up and nodded firmly at Nie Zonghui.

“This Wei Cheng is ready and willing to serve honorably on this mission!”

Yanli could feel Ying’er pulling himself together to argue, so quickly barreled on. “Furthermore, as Wei Ying’s younger brother, they share a valuable connection, as blood brothers.” She turned to Ying’er. “Could you send some of your ghost crows to follow them? Could they warn you if he was in danger, or injured?”

He paused, thinking, then nodded. “Yes.”

Nie Zonghui looked over at Nie Popo, clearly ceding the decision to her. She stood there considering it for a long, agonizing moment (at least, it was agonizing for A’Cheng, who was set to vibrate out of his skin). Being able to keep an eye on the squadron, however indirectly, was a boon that Yanli knew the Nie would not easily turn down.

She nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, before turning to bow to Yanli. “The Nie would greatly appreciate the assistance of Senior Disciple Wei Cheng on this mission.”