signs
Lotus Pier.
Yu Ziyuan leaned against the couch, the gauze wrapped around her shoulder seeping dark red again. Her personal maid stood beside her with a bowl of medicine, her eyes red-rimmed, her hands trembling violently. A few drops of the medicine spilled and burned the back of her hand, but she didn't dare to utter a sound.
"Bring it here." Jiang Fengmian's voice came from the doorway.
He walked in, his clothes covered in dust, clearly having just returned from the outer defense line, but his steps were steady. He took the medicine bowl from the maid and sat down by the couch.
Yu Ziyuan turned her face away, "Is there still no news from Acheng?"
Jiang Fengmian scooped up a spoonful of medicine, blew on it, and brought it to her lips. He saw that her tightly pursed lips were trembling slightly.
"Jiang Fengmian, did you already plan to use your son's life to save Lotus Pier for a few more days?"
The medicine spoon clattered against the rim of the bowl.
Jiang Fengmian put down the bowl and looked at her profile. The candlelight flickered, casting deep and shallow shadows on her pale face. Her usually sharp eyebrows were furrowed at this moment, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes were deeper than usual.
“Third Sister,” he said in a deep voice, “Acheng is my son.”
Yu Ziyuan turned around abruptly, her eyes red-rimmed: "Then go save him! What's the point of sitting here feeding me medicine? I won't die from my injuries, but every extra moment A-Cheng stays in the dungeon—"
She suddenly choked up, her chest heaving violently, and the wound on her shoulder blew red again.
Jiang Fengmian reached out and, very slowly, took her hand resting on the edge of the bed. Her hand was icy cold, and her fingertips were still trembling. His palm was warm, the rough calluses rubbing against her delicate skin, gradually transferring warmth to her.
"I have already sent messages to the Lan and Nie families," he said in a low voice. "Xie Keqing has also gone. Third Sister, if we rush to Qishan now, there will be no other outcome than death."
Yu Ziyuan tried to pull her hand away, but couldn't. Suddenly, she saw the unfathomable weariness in his eyes and the suppressed anxiety that almost overflowed beneath it.
She suddenly couldn't bring herself to curse.
“Jiang Fengmian,” her voice trailed off, “if something happens to A-Cheng…”
“No.” He interrupted her, squeezing her hand tightly. “I promise.”
Silence fell again, the air thick with the smell of medicine, the candlelight crackling. The maidservant had slipped out unnoticed, gently closing the door behind her.
——
In a temporary camp on the border of Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian stared at the three dark fragments of Yin Iron on the table, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the edge of the table.
This is a fragment of the Yin Iron Sword that he obtained a few days ago in the Xuanwu Cave.
It's been two days already.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his under-eye area was dark and swollen. Scattered on the table were discarded talisman papers, cinnabar mixed with blood, staining the rough paper with grotesque patterns. In the corner lay several cracked bamboo flutes, which had exploded when resentment flared up.
The curtains moved slightly.
Wei Wuxian didn't even look up: "Lan Zhan, I told you not to worry about me."
Lan Wangji stood at the doorway, neither coming in nor leaving. Moonlight streamed in from behind him, casting a long shadow at Wei Wuxian's feet. He carried a tray with a bowl of steaming porridge and a dish of light side dishes.
"Eat something." He only said two words, his voice flat.
Wei Wuxian finally raised his head and tugged at the corner of his mouth: "I have no appetite."
Lan Wangji remained silent. He walked in, placed the tray on the corner of the table, his gaze sweeping over the fragments of Yin Iron and the talismans on the table, lingering for a moment on Wei Wuxian's pale face. Then he turned and sat down on a futon in another corner of the tent, placing his Wangji zither across his lap and beginning to tune it.
clank--
The clear, melodious sound of the zither flowed out, the most fundamental calming melody of the Lan Clan. Unhurried and gentle, it played again and again, like a mountain stream, stubbornly washing away the stagnant bloodlust and resentment within the tent.
Wei Wuxian grabbed a handful of hair in frustration: "Lan Zhan, stop playing, it's too noisy."
The music didn't stop.
Wei Wuxian suddenly stood up, intending to pluck the strings of his zither, but as soon as he stood up, everything went black, and he staggered. A hand steadily supported his arm.
Lan Wangji had already arrived beside him without him noticing, his other hand still holding a zither. He looked down at Wei Wuxian, his light-colored eyes as deep as a pool in the dim candlelight, churning with too many things: worry, disapproval, suppressed anger, and other emotions that Wei Wuxian couldn't understand.
But he said nothing. He simply helped Wei Wuxian sit back down, then sat down himself, and the zither music began again.
Wei Wuxian stared at his profile for a long time, then suddenly deflated. He picked up the bowl of porridge and mechanically put it in his mouth. The porridge was warm, neither too hot nor too cold, just right for his taste. The side dishes were light, but surprisingly palatable.
He ate, the music flowing through him. Outside the tent, the wind howled, and the occasional footsteps of patrolling disciples could be heard in the distance.
When the bowl of porridge was empty, Wei Wuxian suddenly spoke up: "Lan Zhan, I've found a way."
The music stopped abruptly.
Lan Wangji looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.
“The reason why resentment is so violent is because the hatred of the dead souls is disordered.” Wei Wuxian stared at the three fragments of Yin Iron, his eyes bloodshot, and there was also a kind of crazy light in them. “But if we can use music to regulate them, use formations to restrain them, and use blood essence as a bond—we can refine them into something controllable.”
He paused, then lowered his voice: "Like taming a wild beast."
Lan Wangji's knuckles pressed hard on the strings, until they turned white. But he didn't interrupt; he just looked at Wei Wuxian.
“I’ve been trying for two days.” Wei Wuxian pulled open his shirt, revealing his chest, where there were three fresh, still bleeding wounds arranged in a triangle, clearly the core of some kind of formation. “Using my blood as a guide, the sound of the flute to channel the blood, and then using talismans to seal it… it’ll be done soon.”
Lan Wangji's gaze fell on the three wounds, his pupils contracting slightly. After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse: "You will die."
"I won't die." Wei Wuxian laughed, a desperate and ruthless laugh. "Jiang Cheng's fate is unknown, Madam Yu is still lying in bed, Lotus Pier is in grave danger, Lan Zhan, I won't die."
He sat back down at the table and took out the last specially made talisman. The patterns drawn with black dog blood mixed with cinnabar gleamed with a dark red light under the candlelight. He placed the three fragments of Yin Iron in a triangle in the center of the talisman, bit his tongue, and used the blood from the tip of his tongue—the place where his heart's essence was connected—to draw blood!
The moment the blood dripped, the fragments of Yin Iron trembled violently, and black energy surged out like a volcanic eruption!
Wei Wuxian immediately grabbed a bamboo flute and began to play a tune he had created himself over the past two days, a tune incorporating strange rhythms.
The flute's shrill and piercing sound, like the howls of countless wronged souls, strangely suppressed, tamed, and gathered the surging resentment little by little...
Lan Wangji suddenly stood up, but just as he was about to step forward, Wei Wuxian looked up at him. His eyes, which were always smiling, were now bloodshot and filled with desperate pleas.
Don't stop me.
Lan Wangji froze in his tracks.
In that instant of hesitation, the resentment had already coalesced and taken shape. The black energy receded, condensed, and finally transformed into a palm-sized, tiger-shaped black token, which lay quietly in the center of the talisman paper.
The Yin Tiger Seal is complete.
Wei Wuxian put down the bamboo flute, staggered backward, leaned against the wall and gasped for breath, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth again.
But his eyes were fixed on the Yin Tiger Talisman, his gaze filled with wild joy, lingering fear, and an unfathomable weariness.
It's done. It's finally done.
With this, perhaps it really can...
A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist.
Wei Wuxian froze and turned to look. Lan Wangji had appeared in front of him at some point, gripping his wrist with such force that it felt like he was about to crush his bones, yet his palm was ice-cold.
"Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian tried to pull his hand away, but couldn't.
Lan Wangji didn't speak. He just stared at him, his light-colored eyes churning with turbulent emotions, the things that had been suppressed for too long finally breaking through all restraint at this moment.
He raised his other hand, not to hit or scold, but to... fiercely wipe away the blood from the corner of Wei Wuxian's mouth.
The movements were rough and forceful, causing Wei Wuxian's skin to sting. But after wiping, the hand froze in mid-air, its fingertips trembling slightly.
Wei Wuxian was stunned.
Their eyes met, and they could hear each other breathing.
Wei Wuxian saw the darkness in Lan Wangji's eyes that almost swallowed him whole, filled with worry, anger, pain, and something else he couldn't be sure of, yet which made his heart pound wildly.
Then Lan Wangji released his hand, took a step back, and created some distance.
He lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a shadow beneath them, concealing all his emotions. When he raised his eyes again, he transformed back into the dignified and elegant Hanguang-jun.
"Wei Ying." He only said two words, his voice eerily calm, "Don't become Wen Ruohan."
After saying that, he turned around, lifted the curtain, and went out.
As the curtains fell, a night breeze swept in, causing the candlelight to flicker wildly.
Wei Wuxian stood there, the coolness of Lan Wangji's palm still lingering on his wrist, and the spot where his lips had been wiped felt faintly hot. He looked down at the formed Yin Tiger Seal on the table; the dark token exuded an ominous aura, yet also contained astonishing power.
Outside the tent, the night was thick.
Lan Wangji stood under a tree not far away, leaning against the rough trunk, and slowly closed his eyes. The warmth of Wei Wuxian's skin and the stickiness of his blood still lingered on his fingertips, and the cold panic in his chest continued to spread.
After a long while, he opened his eyes and looked in the direction of Qishan.
Wei Ying, if you really go down that path...
What am I supposed to do with you?
——
The warmth in the dilapidated temple did not last long.
The faint sound of barking could be heard from the distant mountains and forests. These were tracking dogs kept by the Wen family, whose sense of smell was several times more acute than that of ordinary dogs.
Jiang Cheng propped himself up to sit up, listened intently for a moment, and his face darkened: "The pursuers are close, in at most half an hour."
Xie Linyang quickly tore off a piece of her shirt to re-bandage his wound, her movements swift: "Can you walk?"
"We have to go, even if we can't." Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth and stood up. His left leg wound reopened, and blood seeped out again, but he remained calm. "Head south. The mountains there are complex and it's easy to hide."
The two supported each other as they rushed out of the dilapidated temple and plunged into the dark forest.
The night dew was slippery, and the mountain path was rugged. Jiang Cheng's injuries were too severe, and he had to stop to catch his breath every few steps. Xie Linyang practically half-dragged and half-carried him, continuously channeling the power of Yang Sha into his body, barely keeping him alive.
The barking of dogs grew closer behind them, mixed with shouts from the Wen clan monks, and the torchlight flickered in the forest.
"This won't do." Xie Linyang gasped for breath, his forehead covered in sweat. "You can't hold on, there are too many of them..."
Before he could finish speaking, a figure suddenly emerged from the bushes ahead!
Jiang Cheng's pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively shielded Xie Linyang behind him.
"Don't do it!" the newcomer hissed; the voice belonged to a woman.
Moonlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating her beautiful yet weary face. Dressed in red, carrying a heavy medicine basket, she exuded warmth.
Jiang Cheng's eyes widened in even more vigilance: "Wen Qing?"
Wen Qing didn't answer, her gaze quickly sweeping over the two men covered in blood, her brows furrowing: "Come with me, there are Wen family sentries around here, you can't escape."
"Why should I believe you?" Jiang Cheng sneered. "You're a member of the Wen clan."
"I am a doctor," Wen Qing said calmly, her gaze falling on Xie Linyang's chest wound. "If the bleeding isn't stopped, it will become infected."
Xie Lin Yang pressed Jiang Cheng's arm and gently shook her head. She looked at Wen Qing, and the image that Liu Yingcao had once flashed through her mind flashed through her mind.
In that future... Wen Ning becomes a ferocious corpse, and Wen Qing is reduced to ashes.
“I believe her,” Xie Linyang said softly, looking at Wen Qing. “Miss Wen, we’ll go with you.”
Wenqing nodded and turned to push aside the bushes: "Quick, the footsteps are getting closer."
The three ventured deep into the dense forest. Wen Qing was extremely familiar with the terrain, turning left and right to avoid several seemingly ordinary paths that were actually rigged with simple traps.
After walking for a long time, Wenqing led them through the jungle, around the residence, and arrived at the residence of a collateral branch of the Wen family.
A boy dressed in red was brewing medicine at the stove when he heard the noise. He turned around, his eyes lighting up: "Sister! Come back—"
The sound stopped abruptly.
Wen Ning stared blankly at Jiang Cheng and Xie Lin Yang, who were covered in blood, and the medicine spoon in her hand fell into the pot with a "clatter".
"A-Ning, go and tidy up the back room," Wen Qing instructed. "Don't let anyone know they've been here. Also, fetch a basin of hot water, clean cloths, and some medicine for their wounds."
“But…but sister, they…” Wen Ning stammered, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her clothes, “They are…”
"I know." Wen Qing untied the medicine basket and took out several packets of herbs. "Go quickly."
Wen Ning bit her lip and turned to go to the back room. She returned shortly with hot water and medicine, but her gaze never met Xie Linyang's.
Warmth made Jiang Cheng lean against the couch, and she cut open his blood-soaked sleeve, revealing a deep wound that exposed bone.
Xie Linyang sat beside him, holding his right hand tightly, gently channeling his Yang energy to alleviate his pain.
With swift, gentle movements, the silver knife precisely removed the rotten flesh, and a special herbal ointment was applied. The ointment was pale gold, and the moment it was applied, the black aura at the wound vanished as if encountering a natural enemy.
Jiang Cheng stared at her: "You are also members of the Wen clan, why are you helping us?"
After gently bandaging his arm, she went to treat Xie Linyang's sword wound on his chest, treating that wound even more carefully.
"The main branch of the Wen family is the Wen family, and we are the collateral branches." She said calmly, "Wen Ruohan used Yin Iron to forge puppets and killed people like flies. We, the collateral branches who did not want to follow him in doing evil, have either died or fled over the years. The rest..." She looked up at Wen Ning, who was brewing medicine in the outer room, "...only the old, weak, women and children are left."
Xie Linyang felt a tightness in her chest. She recalled the scenes in the grass where the photos were taken. The tragic ending of Wen Qing and Wen Ning was because they had the surname "Wen". But what did they do wrong?
“Miss Wen,” she said softly, “we will remember your kindness today. But if Wen Ruohan finds out that you took us in…”
“I know the consequences.” Wen Qing interrupted her, tying a knot in the gauze with a swift and decisive movement. “You are also a doctor. I believe that if you were me, you would make the same choice as me.”
Xie Linyang stared at her, his eyes filled with gratitude.
Wen Qing stood up and tidied the blood-stained cloth: "You will stay here tonight and must leave before dawn. Wen Xu's men will not dare to search this place easily. This is the last settlement of the Wen family's collateral branch. Although Wen Ruohan looks down on us, he will not easily break off relations."
“Miss Wen,” Xie Linyang said solemnly, “we will remember this kindness.”
Wen Qing shook her head, said nothing more, and took the basin of water outside.
The room fell silent.
Wen Ning shuffled in, carrying two bowls of hot porridge. She still didn't dare look at Xie Linyang, simply placing the bowls on the table and whispering, "Ah, my sister said you should eat something..."
After putting down the bowl, he stood at the door for a long while before mustering the courage to look at Xie Linyang: "Miss Xie, does your injury... still hurt?"
"It doesn't hurt anymore." Xie Linyang smiled. "Miss Wen's medical skills are excellent."
“My sister is the most skilled physician.” Wen Ning’s eyes brightened, then dimmed again. “But… but Wen Ruohan won’t let her save people. He said that the medical skills of collateral branches are only fit for the main family to refine medicine…”
"A-Ning." A gentle voice came from outside the door, "Go and deliver medicine to Third Granny."
Wen Ning jumped up like a startled rabbit: "I, I'll go right now!"
He rushed out, but when he reached the door, he glanced back at Xie Linyang, his gaze lingering for a moment on her and Jiang Cheng's tightly clasped hands before he lowered his eyes and quickly left.
"Judging from his reaction, he still remembers the favor you did for him that day." Jiang Cheng suddenly spoke, his tone a bit harsh.
Xie Linyang turned to look at him and saw him drinking porridge with a straight face, but his ears were slightly red. She suddenly found it funny: "Are you... jealous?"
"Who's jealous!" Jiang Cheng choked, coughing so hard his wound ached. "I'm not!"
"Oh?" Xie Linyang leaned closer, deliberately asking, "No?"
Jiang Cheng turned his face away, his ears turning even redder: "Stay away from him."
Xie Lin Yang laughed, which aggravated her chest wound, causing her to gasp in pain. Jiang Cheng immediately supported her anxiously: "Don't move! What if the wound reopens?"
"Then don't make me angry." Xie Linyang leaned on his shoulder and said softly, "Jiang Cheng, I only like you. What others think or think is none of my business."
Jiang Cheng stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder: "...Mmm."
Wen Qing stood outside, looking at the horizon, holding a communication jade talisman in her hand.
It was sent by Wen Xu, ordering all collateral relatives to assist in the search for Jiang Cheng and Xie Lin Yang, with those who disobeyed to be treated as traitors.
She applied pressure with her fingertips, and cracks appeared in the jade talisman.
Then she raised her hand and threw it far into the stream deep in the bamboo forest.
The water splashed softly, and the jade talisman sank to the bottom.
Wenqing turned and went back into the house, her back straight in the morning light.
Some choices, once made, you won't regret.
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