Chapter 3: Echoes of the Past
"The wind remembers what the heart forgets, carrying whispers of yesterday into tomorrow."
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Wei Wuxian had never been a man built for silence. His laughter was meant to spill into the air, his words sharp and quick, unafraid of echoes. Yet tonight, beneath the weight of rules and gazes that pressed from every direction, even he felt the need to lower his voice.
The teachings had been relentless — pages of rules to memorize, rituals to observe, stances to perfect. Lan Wangji stood always at the front of the disciples, posture straight, sword gleaming at his side, a figure carved of ice and discipline. Next to him, Wei Wuxian lounged with a half-smile, pretending ease though his back ached from endless hours of restraint.
"Rule number four hundred and three," Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath, his lips barely moving. "No laughter louder than the cicadas." He leaned slightly, enough that only Lan Wangji could hear. "Tell me, Lan Zhan, if I laugh softer than the wind, does that count?"
Lan Wangji didn't turn. His eyes fixed ahead, calm, unblinking, as though carved into still water. But Wei Wuxian caught the faintest shift, the subtlest tightening of his jaw. A victory.
He smiled wider.
---
Later, when the session ended, disciples scattered like seeds in the wind, retreating to their chambers. Wei Wuxian lingered, following Lan Wangji's steady steps along the lantern-lit path that wound through pines.
"You never answer me," Wei Wuxian said lightly, though his eyes traced the sharp line of Lan Wangji's shoulders. "One day I'll say something so clever you'll have to laugh. Or… maybe I'll make you angry enough to break your silence. Either way, it'll be worth it."
The night air smelled of pine and old paper, the faintest trace of sandalwood from Lan Wangji's robes. He slowed, just enough that Wei Wuxian walked beside him instead of behind.
"You speak too much," Lan Wangji finally said. His voice was low, even, yet it struck Wei Wuxian like a bell.
Wei Wuxian laughed, the sound soft and triumphant. "There it is! Proof you know how to use words. And such sharp ones too."
Lan Wangji glanced at him — a flicker, nothing more. But Wei Wuxian saw something in those eyes, something unspoken, as though a storm pressed quietly beneath an ocean.
---
That night, Wei Wuxian found himself lying awake, staring at the paper windows of his chamber. Shadows of the pine branches moved gently across the white surface, like brushstrokes in an unfinished painting.
He thought of Lan Wangji's silence, of his eyes that seemed to see without shifting, of the faint pulse of restrained emotion beneath his flawless calm. He thought, too, of the rules — endless, suffocating, wrapping around him like invisible chains.
Yet within that quiet prison, Wei Wuxian felt something stirring. Not fear, not resentment, but a spark of curiosity, of challenge.
And perhaps… something more he dared not name.
---
The next day, rumors buzzed among the disciples like restless bees. In the distance, sect leaders spoke of strange disturbances — dark energy rising in far-off valleys, graves whispering, corpses moving where they should not. Lessons grew heavier with warnings, elders urging vigilance.
Wei Wuxian felt the weight of it, though he masked it beneath his grin. "Something's coming," he murmured as he leaned against a pillar, his flute resting against his lap. "I wonder, Lan Zhan, will your rules be enough to keep it out?"
Lan Wangji's gaze met his across the courtyard. It was brief, no longer than a heartbeat, but in that heartbeat the world seemed to narrow to only the two of them.
Unspoken, a thought lingered in the air between them — fragile, dangerous, inevitable.
The valley lay shrouded in mist, silver threads of fog winding through twisted pines and jagged stones. Even the wind seemed hesitant, pausing as if it, too, feared the secrets hidden beneath the soil.
Wei Wuxian crouched at the edge of the ridge, peering down into the shadows. His fingers brushed the bamboo flute at his waist, though he knew no melody tonight would soothe the unease creeping through him. "Lan Zhan," he whispered, voice low, "you feel it too, right? Something's wrong here."
Lan Wangji's eyes were fixed on the darkness below, the lantern at his side casting a golden glow that made the mist curl around him like smoke. "It is not natural," he said simply. His voice was steady, unshakable — yet Wei Wuxian felt the weight behind it, a calm warning layered with concern.
Together they descended, footsteps silent on the damp earth. Every branch that snapped beneath Wei Wuxian's careful tread seemed louder than it should, every rustle in the fog a warning.
"Why do these things always happen at night?" Wei Wuxian muttered. "Can't we have one peaceful morning for a change?"
Lan Wangji didn't answer. Instead, he moved with quiet precision, scanning the valley with golden eyes that seemed to pierce the mist. Wei Wuxian, unable to resist, nudged closer. "You always look like a statue standing in the moonlight. It's… intimidating. And annoying."
A faint wind stirred, carrying with it the scent of decay and old magic. Wei Wuxian's hand brushed against something soft — a leaf, a whisper of frost. He froze. Something shifted ahead, moving too smoothly, too deliberately.
From the mist emerged a figure — cloaked, shadowed, energy flickering like dying embers. Wei Wuxian's pulse quickened, fingers tightening on his flute. He recognized the cultivation aura immediately: not one of the sects, not human, but… something else.
Lan Wangji stepped forward, sword raised, a line of calm authority radiating from him. "Stand behind me."
Wei Wuxian grinned, despite the tension. "Oh, don't worry. I stand next to you, remember? You're my shield, not my barricade."
The shadow shifted, and a chilling laughter rang across the valley — hollow, mocking, alive. Wei Wuxian's grin faltered just a fraction.
Lan Wangji's eyes narrowed, every movement deliberate, controlled. "Do not underestimate it."
The figure surged forward, dark energy swirling like ink in water. Wei Wuxian moved instinctively, summoning a spell, a protective glow coiling around him, mingling with the demonic energy he had learned to wield. The clash of forces sent sparks into the fog, illuminating fleeting glimpses of sharp teeth, clawed hands, and glowing eyes.
Wei Wuxian's heartbeat raced. Danger, real and immediate, pressed against him. And yet, beside him, Lan Wangji's calm presence anchored him, steady as the moon above.
A strike came from the shadow, sweeping toward Wei Wuxian — and Lan Wangji's sword intercepted it with a shimmer of golden light. Sparks flew, the clash echoing across the valley like thunder. Wei Wuxian felt the warmth of Lan Wangji's presence brush past him, a silent reassurance in the midst of chaos.
The battle stretched, tension coiling tighter with each moment. Wei Wuxian ducked, spun, countered, all while keeping a careful watch on Lan Wangji's movements. They moved in tandem, unspoken understanding guiding their every action, instinct weaving them together like threads in a tapestry.
Finally, with a calculated strike, Lan Wangji's sword pierced the shadow's core. The figure let out a soundless scream, energy unraveling into nothingness. Mist swallowed the remains, leaving only silence — deep, heavy, and oddly still.
Wei Wuxian leaned back, brushing dirt from his robes, and let out a long breath. "You make it sound so easy, Hanguang-jun. That was… insane."
Lan Wangji's expression softened only slightly, his gaze still sharp. "You are reckless."
Wei Wuxian chuckled. "And you love it, don't pretend otherwise."
For a fleeting moment, the moonlight caught Lan Wangji's face, pale and perfect, his expression unreadable. And for a heartbeat, Wei Wuxian felt something stir in his chest — warmth, and… something deeper.
They walked back to the ridge in silence, the echo of the fight still lingering in the valley below. Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Wangji, his usual grin teasing, softening the tension. "Next time, maybe warn me before dragging me into things like this?"
Lan Wangji's eyes met his, unyielding yet almost… amused. "You will learn to survive."
Wei Wuxian smirked. "Or you'll just keep saving me."
And the moon watched, silent witness to the bond beginning to take shape — fragile, unspoken, and entirely theirs.