Chapter 4: Echoes Beneath the Moon
"The moon remembers what hearts try to forget."
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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.
The early morning mist hung heavy over the Burial Mounds, curling around broken stones and skeletal trees like fingers of memory that refused to let go. The scent of damp earth mixed with smoke from last night's fires, faintly sweet and bitter at once. Wei Wuxian stepped carefully across the uneven ground, eyes scanning for children who might have wandered too far in their curiosity.
A-Yuan was the first to find him, his small face peeking out from behind a crumbling wall. "Gege!" he called, rushing forward with a grin so bright it almost made Wei Wuxian forget the weight of the world pressing on their little settlement.
Wei Wuxian scooped him up effortlessly, spinning him around. "And where have you been, young rascal? Chasing ghosts again?"
A-Yuan giggled, hugging him tight. "No ghosts! Just… just shadows!"
Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow, setting him down gently. "Shadows, huh? Careful — shadows bite if you get too close." He smiled at the innocence of the child, the brief, pure joy that existed here amid ruin. It was this, more than anything, that made him willing to fight the world, to shoulder its burdens.
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