60. Brother Crow and White Crane

The story of Xiao Niao’s precarious but eventually victorious arrival into the world was quickly transformed into a good luck blessing for the whole caravan as the days passed.

The hunters hunted harder and the merchants haggled harder and the guards all herded harder. Meat and rice became more plentiful, no doubt due to filling the pockets of farms and villages with generous coin as they passed. The guard posting for Yanli’s carriage became hot competition, up to and including arm wrestling contests for the privilege. Many Nie made sure to stroll by where Yanli and the others were bedding down for the night in order to recite a prayer, as if Xiao Niao was some sort of unexpected bodhisattva.

(Yanli suspected it had something to do with Nie Huaisang, because even though he remained completely unimpressed by the baby, he loved nothing more that stirring the pot for the sake of a bit of drama.)

A’Yao, particularly, took delight in subtly encouraging the protectiveness of their Nie guards, especially when he walked around with his cane in one hand to lean on and the baby in the crook of his other arm, which Yanli knew without a doubt was entirely calculated on his part.

No one questioned the right of the Yiling Wei sect to take on the responsibility of the baby, despite the fact that he was ostensibly the heir of Yunmeng Jiang. It was not as if there was anyone left to challenge them for the right. Even the remaining Jiang had switched out of their old purple uniforms, opting instead for slightly mismatched black outfits with red and peach accents. (Yanli saw Nie Huaisang’s tiny little paw prints all over that, too.)

And as all that went on while the miles passed, Hanguang-jun haunted their caravan.

Not at first. The days following Nie Meitong’s reveal were quiet enough, aside from Xiao Niao’s cries. Reports had the bandit traveling northwest, but then he suddenly circled back around. Yet, for all that he seemed to be shadowing them, he never showed himself or got in sight of Nie Meitong’s rangers.

And then, one night, he decimated a Wen scouting party. With prejudice.

Even Nie Meitong, hardened Nie warrior and cultivator that he was, looked a little squeamish reporting it to Nie Huaisang and Yanli.

“It was not a battle. It was revenge. To utterly destroy them in such a manner…it was personal,” he said. He had gone out to view the site of the slaughter himself, once the tone of it had been related to him. It said something of what he saw that he refused to describe it with Yanli present, instead handing over a written report to Nie Huaisang who opened it, turned green, and shut it quickly before passing it to A’Yao.

A’Yao hummed. “Yet, his dealings so far have been, on the whole, bloodless. A few dead guards, but clean kills done in self-defense, and he leaves most of his victims alive even knowing they can identify him. He’s either incredibly sloppy or incredibly good.”

“Good. He’s…very good,” a disciple chirped from behind Nie Meitong, sounding both impressed and horrified. He shut his mouth quickly at Nie Meitong’s glare.

“Nie Feng speaks out of turn, but he’s not wrong. What I saw was the work of a trained warrior, a cultivator. At least two of the dead were cultivators themselves; there were ten total. Against such numbers, no common bandit would have prevailed.” He shook his head.

“He did us a favor, though,” Ying’er said with a shrug. “And if it is who we think it is, then we should not be surprised at his skill or vengeance.”

It had become common gossip that it was Lan Xichen, but no one dared to say so officially. It seemed unfathomable to Yanli that a such a kind-hearted man could turn to wanton violence, but then he was a highly trained cultivator, practiced in the art of battle. He had been tortured, his home was destroyed by the Wen, and likely he thought most of his family dead. There was no way to know how hard a man would break under such circumstances.

“Notably, he did not leave his usual chengyu around anywhere. I guess war is not murder when it’s revenge,” Nie Meitong said with a sardonic lilt.

“Or…” Ying’er looked thoughtful, tapping his chin. “Or he saw they were following us. That they posed a danger to us, specifically.”

“Ten against dozens?” Nie Meitong chuckled. “Hardly.”

“No, Ying’er is correct,” A’Yao said. “They might have been ordered to find out where we are going, to report back to Wen Ruohan.

“No offense to you, Lieutenant Nie, but your focus has been tightly held to protecting the caravan. Those Wen could have been following us the whole way from the Unclean Realm.” A’Yao tried to look polite about criticizing Nie Meitong’s job.

The man himself did not seem offended, though, and nodded. “You speak true, Seneschal Meng. In fact, we would not even have known they were, ah, dispatched if a farmer had not flagged down one of my own scouts.”

“So now we have our own guardian deity?” Nie Huaisang said with a chuckle.

“I would think the person in question would be keen on returning to Gusu, but for whatever reason, he’s staying close by.” Nie Meitong sighed in frustration.

“Can we bring him in?” Ying’er asked. “Invite him over for tea.”

Yanli tried not to laugh as Nie Meitong gave Ying’er a truly scandalized look. “We don’t actually know who he is, and you ask if we should invite a ruthless, murderous bandit into our camp filled with civilians and valuables? No.”

“Of course not, of course not,” A’Yao said so quickly and diffidently that Yanli knew he was already scheming. She gave him a narrow-eyed glare, but he smiled guilelessly.

Eventually, they managed to send the very worried lieutenant on his way, but Nie Huaisang didn’t budge.

“No, I’m not leaving. You absolutely are planning to track Lan Xichen down and I want in on the action!”

“No you don’t. You hate being in on the action! You just want to place bets on whether we succeed or not,” Ying’er said, slicing through the air with one hand.

“That is a form of ‘action’ I’ll have you know,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

A’Yao, noticeably, did not say anything as the boys squabbled. Yanli raised an eyebrow at him, which made Ying’er sit up and pay attention, which finally got Nie Huaisang to be quiet.

“We can’t invite him into camp, but not because of Nie Meitong’s concerns,” he started, raising a hand to stop Ying’er’s nascent argument. “I believe Lan Xichen knows who we are—if nothing else, he has spotted the caravan and recognizes the Nie. Yet, he’s keeping his distance on purpose.”

Ying’er scrunched up his face, but nodded.

“As long as Lan Wangji is at risk, Lan Xichen’s efforts are better used trying to draw attention to himself,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping a knee with his fingers, lost in thought.

“And we will help him,” Yanli said with a smile, picking up on the thread.

A’Yao nodded, pleased. Then he turned his focus on Nie Huaisang, who looked suddenly alarmed. “What?”

“You will finish that romantic poem about Hanguang-jun you’ve been hiding under The Analects, then you will find a way to share it as widely as possible.”

Nie Huaisang’s alarm quickly morphed into delight. “Yes, Seneschal Meng!”

“Ying’er, finagle your way onto scouting missions, and do your best to sabotage them when it comes to Hanguang-jun.”

Ying’er raised his hand in a three fingered salute. “I will do my best, Yao’ge!”

Yanli shared a look with A’Yao before speaking. “At least try to be subtle, Ying’er.”

“I am very subtle!”

“As subtle as a spider falling out of the rafters?” Meng Shi asked with a smirk, which caused Nie Huaisang to perk up and demand to know what she meant. They were all easily distracted by sharing the epic tale of rescuing Yanli and A’Yao from the Dragonfly Shoal, which had Nie Huaisang and even Liu Peng crying with laughter.

While Lan Xichen’s fate weighed on her heart, Yanli felt better knowing they were going to help him as best they could.

The next six days saw Nie Huaisang whining and, when that didn’t work, running away to “buy wine” in local towns they passed, no doubt dropping copies of the new anonymous song, “The Ballad of the Lonely Bandit,” off at inns. He spent most nights up late by the weak light of an oil lamp writing copies. Ying’er, meanwhile, badgered Nie Meitong into capitulating to his demands, and joined a few scouting trips. There wasn’t much for her to do, but Yanli enjoyed the sense of purpose they felt in trying to help Lan Xichen.

Then, one afternoon over lunch, when the caravan had paused to water the horses and allow the humans to walk around and stretch their legs, a crow fell out of the sky.

It landed with a thud on Jiang Yimin’s head, and they both tumbled to the ground, both squawking.

Yanli reached out to help him sit up as Du Zhilu made her way over. The crow kept squealing and keening as Jiang Yimin sat up in a daze, clutching the bird to his chest.

“What happened?” He asked, blinking rapidly.

“With luck, not a concussion. Stay still, Young Master,” Du Zhili tsk’d as she inspected his head.

“I think this is yours,” Jiang Yimin said, holding out the anxious bird to Ying’er.

“Probably,” Ying’er responded, gently taking the crow, who went quiet as soon as Ying’er touched it.

“Careful, I think his wing is injured,” Nie Huaisang said, peering at the bird.

Ying’er held the crow up to look it in the eye, then gasped, and the entire area was swamped with resentful energy pulled straight up from the ground. To his credit, Nie Huaisang immediately cast a shield of qi over Meng Shi and Xiao Niao, grimacing and swaying as the resentful energy at his feet started pecking at his feet. Jiang Wu had swung Liu Peng up off the ground into his arms, and Jiang Minhao had moved to cover Yanli and A’Yao, sword drawn. Around them, Nie were shouting and horses bucked in their harnesses.

“Wei Ying!” A’Yao yelled and swung his cane, whacking Ying’er straight across his back so hard he fell to his knees. The resentful energy dropped with him. A’Yao pulled his cane back again, holding it like a discipline board but not swinging it a second time…yet.

Yanli ran over to Ying’er and grabbed his shoulders. “What did you see? Ying’er, what did you see?”

Nie Meitong ran up, and everyone formed a circle around them.

“Trapped! Trapped!” Ying’er squawked like a bird himself. Yanli shook him hard.

“Ying’er, listen to me! I need to know what you saw!”

He shook his head, and his eyes finally cleared again. “He’s in a cage! Trapped! Lan Zhan is with him!” His rage started building again, so she took his face in her hands.

“Ying’er, please, focus on my voice. Listen. Tell me what you saw!”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them they were deep wells of grief. “A’Cheng and Lan Zhan, they are…caged up, but traveling…I think. Yes, a cage on wheels. The crows hate it.”

“Can you tell who took them, Young Master Wei?” Nie Meitong asked solemnly.

He grimaced. “Hard to say. The birds don’t see color like we do, it makes my eyes hurt. I could tell they are not Wen—no sun banners. But the robes could be any combination of darker colors.”

“A smaller sect, maybe, trying to curry favor with the Wen.” A’Yao tapped his cane on the ground, looking thoughtful.

“How do you know Lan Wangji is with him, then?” Nie Huaisang asked, peeking out from behind Nie Meitong, holding his favorite of Yanli’s fans up as if to ward off ill winds.

Ying’er smiled sadly and held the crow to his chest, petting its head. “My ‘crow brother’ has a white crane in the cage with him.”

“That could be any Lan,” A’Yao said. He had lowered his cane and was leaning on it heavily.

“No,” Yanli said, helping Ying’er to his feet. “Lan Qiren ordered the surviving Lan to disguise themselves as commoners. The only one who did not hear that order was Lan Wangji, who had already separated from them during their escape.”

Nie Meitong nodded. “He is a proud boy, and would not willingly hide himself without such an order. Lan Xichen, I could see going undercover…as, perhaps, a masked bandit. Hypothetically speaking." He shook his head once. “Lan Wangji would not.”

Ying’er nodded. “Exactly.” He gently pushed Yanli’s hands off of him and looked her straight in the eye. “I need to go save them,” he said, as if it was a foregone conclusion.

And as much as she hated it with all of her heart, Yanli knew he was right.