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It was a crisp autumn day, the trees red as fire and the smell of dew permeating the air, when Wèi Wúxiàn climbed the long steps to Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù. It wasn’t the first time she scaled the intimidating stairs, but it was the first in her memory. She had been young when her parents took her to visit Gūsū Lán on a trip that turned disastrous when her mother inevitably got them kicked out for annoying Lán Qǐrén until he’d turned purple with rage.
Wèi Wúxiàn liked to think that all her years with Gāo Pópo, the old méipó in a small village her parents more or less settled down in after her sixth birthday, had tamed some of the wild nature she inherited from her mother. As much as she missed and mourned her parents, Wèi Wúxiàn was mainly raised by Gāo Pópo, first as a temporary caregiver while her parents went off on night hunts and then as a permanent one when her parents died on one of those night hunts. Once it was confirmed her parents wouldn’t be coming back, Gāo Pópo took Wèi Wúxiàn in as her own. When Wèi Wúxiàn decided she liked being a girl far more than being a boy, Gāo Pópo began to train her as a méiren.
“If you are to give up your power as a man in this world, Yīng’ér, then you must learn how to get power as a woman. And there is no woman more powerful in this world than the one who decides who a rich man marries.”
When Gāo Pópo passed away from old age, Wèi Wúxiàn didn’t stay in the remote village for long. At first, she traveled as a rogue cultivator, following in the footsteps of her parents. Then, Wèi Wúxiàn helped matchmake a rich son to an even richer daughter to appease the restless spirit of the son’s mother. One thing led to another, and suddenly she found herself as Hóngzhī Sànrén, the Red Weaver, a popular and now famous méiren that has matched some of the most influential matrimonies in the jiānghú.
Her most famous cultivator match was for her father’s former sect, where she managed to match the unruly Jiāng Wǎnyín, who by that point was banned from every méiren in the area, with a lovely young cultivator from a minor Jiāng affiliated sect who was, impressively, not intimidated at all by his overbearing mother and got along very well with his older sister.
Because of this match, Jiāng Fēngmián recommended her services to Gūsū Lán, to match what was about to be the hardest case of her career—Gūsū Lán’s Second Jade was nearing his thirties and has so far rejected every single proposal to come his way. He wasn’t banned (yet) like Jiāng Wǎnyín was, but all the méiren in the area were haggard by Lán Wàngjī’s polite but stubborn refusals to every match brought to him.
To be honest, Wèi Wúxiàn was looking forward to this case. She has heard all about the Second Jade’s supposed beauty and knew the matchmaker who set up his older brother with the only daughter of the Làolíng Qín clan. Old Zhōng, a méipó based in Cǎiyī Zhēn, was very proud of Lán Xīchén’s marriage to Qín Sū, which had turned into a love match by the time the two were married. After learning about her next client, Old Zhōng had bet Wèi Wúxiàn that she would fail at finding a match Lán Wàngjī would agree to. Wèi Wúxiàn was never one to back down from a challenge.
That was why Wèi Wúxiàn was known as Hóngzhī Sànrén, after all. Not only was she much younger than most of the méiren and also didn’t stay in one place, but she also always found love matches, something that has become rare in the cultivation sects especially. Some people praised her as Yuè Lǎo in disguise, while others (most of them bitter, jealous méiren) claimed she was practicing dark magic. In the end, none of that mattered to the cultivation gentry. Wèi Wúxiàn got results and was adjacently responsible for the massive political shifts happening within the jiānghú.
This is why Gūsū Lán personally asked for her services, and why Wèi Wúxiàn found herself nearly breathless after climbing those wretched miles of stairs. She grumbled under her breath, bemoaning Gāo Pópo’s relentless drillings about following courtesy and the importance of masks when performing as a méiren. She much rather would have arrived by sword to Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù, but courtesy demanded she walk.
“Hóngzhī Sànrén,” Lán Xīchén greeted her at the gate with a kind smile.
“Lán Zōngzhǔ,” she bowed.
“I hope your journey wasn’t too tedious.”
“No, not at all,” Wèi Wúxiàn lied with a grin behind the thin red fabric of her traveling wéimào.
“If you aren’t too tired, my wife and I would be honored to host you for tea.”
“Remember to always analyze the siblings’ marriages. You can learn a lot about what not to do with your client from the work of other méiren. Younger siblings think they want what their elders have, or the exact opposite, but what they want or expect is never what is good for them.”
“I would be honored,” Wèi Wúxiàn accepted graciously, despite wanting nothing more than to fall into bed and take a long nap.
As she was escorted along meticulously groomed pathways and clean pavilions, Wèi Wúxiàn allowed herself to take in the natural beauty of Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù. There was something special about Gūsū Lán’s residence compared to the other sects. Liánhuā Wù was a gorgeous place, Wèi Wúxiàn would readily admit, but it didn’t have Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù’s quiet serenity that made it seem as if a painting came to life. The architecture of the sect was simple but built in a way to accentuate that beauty, unlike the gaudy golden towers of Jīnlín Tái. She couldn’t help but think Gāo Pópo would have loved this place.
When they reached the tea pavilion, Wèi Wúxiàn’s breath caught in her throat. The pavilion was situated in the middle of a beautiful garden, clearly a personal one given the more private nature of the route and the lack of uniformity in the pruning compared to the public gardens. Waiting with tea ready to brew was Qín Sū. Wèi Wúxiàn’s sharp eye immediately noticed the slight but unmistakable baby bump beneath the many layers of silk Lán Fūren was wearing, and she couldn’t help the twitch to her lips.
With a little one all the way, there was no doubt in her mind that Lán Xīchén desperately wanted his little brother to experience the same joys of marriage as he was. And from all the rumors she has heard, said little brother was having absolutely none of it. All Wèi Wúxiàn has to do is change his mind with one person. It will be such an easy job Wèi Wúxiàn almost felt bad for charging them her ‘gentry assholes’ rate.
—oOo—
Wèi Wúxiàn didn’t meet her client until four days after she arrived in Gūsū, as he’d embarked on a last-minute night hunt to the chagrin of his family. The first few days she hadn’t minded; Caiyi town was interesting enough to hold her attention, and there were plenty of beautiful places for her to paint. Lán Qǐrén hadn’t recognized her, which meant she didn’t have to worry about getting kicked off the mountain yet. He did keep staring at her with a strange look when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but he hadn’t made the connection yet and Wèi Wúxiàn wasn’t inclined to help him along.
Gāo Pópo had been the one to advise her to avoid using her name with cultivators following the death of her parents.
“In death, your parents are now larger than life. Everything you do will be tied to them, and they cast a long shadow on anything you will do. Cultivation gentry are relentless as vultures, Yīng’ér. Best to avoid being picked to bones by pretending to be something inedible.”
So, Wèi Wúxiàn hadn’t given a cultivator her family name in years, going by many false names as a rogue cultivator and later only by her title. She became very adept in stealthily changing the subject with anyone bold enough to outright ask for her name, which became a rarer occurrence the more famous she became as a méiren. The common rumor about her now was that Hóngzhī Sànrén was an immortal disciple of Bàoshān Sànrén and shīmèi to Cangse Sànrén. Wèi Wúxiàn had laughed herself sick after hearing that rumor while working on a match for Méishān Yú’s head disciple.
On the third day, Wèi Wúxiàn got to work. With her client still not around, she made do by investigating him through those around him. Gāo Pópo never had to do such investigative work with her clients, as they were all people she’d watched grow up. Wèi Wúxiàn knew that her methods were rather strange to some people. Most méiren stayed in the villages they’d lived in their whole lives, already deeply embedded in the community. A good méiren knew their community inside and out, from the gossip to the secret affairs. Wèi Wúxiàn made up for this lack by quickly immersing herself in the community, gossip and all, so that she became trusted. This became easier once she rose to fame, as people became eager to tell the famous Hóngzhī Sànrén everything she wanted to know.
So, after two days of “playing around” and integrating herself into the “definitely-not-gossip-but- information- network” of Gūsū Lán, Wèi Wúxiàn began prodding. With how quickly she was able to gain the trust of the sect disciples and given the subject of her questions wasn’t even present, it should’ve been easy for her to get to Hánguāng Jūn’s juicy secrets. It was not.
“Either this man is really good at secrets, or he’s really this fucking boring,” Wèi Wúxiàn whispered to herself after hearing the same thing from yet another cultivator.
After four hours of talking to disciples and listening to the servant gossip, all Wèi Wúxiàn has learned about the Second Jade of Lán was:
- He strictly follows all three-thousand-something rules to the letter; he was even Head of Discipline as a teenager.
- He is more like jade than his brother; he is known to be cold and unrelenting.
- He plays the gǔqín.
- He is known far and wide for his cultivation prowess, as well as his good looks. It’s widely agreed he took over his brother’s spot as the number one eligible bachelor for good reason.
- He got his title, Hánguāng Jūn, by always going where the chaos is.
- In the same vein, he night hunts very frequently, going beyond Gūsū Lán’s borders into places unclaimed by the sects.
- He is a man of few words but is beloved by the junior disciples as a good teacher and role model.
- He has a secret sweet tooth (she had to bribe the head cook to get this detail).
Wèi Wúxiàn bemoaned her flimsy list of traits. Even Jiāng Wǎnyín had been more talked about than this!
By the time Lán Wàngjī was scheduled to return to Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù, Wèi Wúxiàn hadn’t learned much else. Zéwú Jūn had been largely unhelpful, beyond noting that all of Lán Wàngjī’s feelings were “reflected in his eyes, not his face,” whatever that meant. Lán Fūren had been even less helpful, confiding in Wèi Wúxiàn that she never was able to get past Lán Wàngjī’s frigid exterior and feared that he disapproved of her. Still, Wèi Wúxiàn wasn’t going to give up. She couldn’t let Old Zhōng win their bet; she would find a match for Lán Wàngjī.
—oOo—
Wèi Wúxiàn sat in the same pavilion as before, sipping on a particularly bitter tea and chatting lightly with Qín Sū, when Lán Xīchén approached with another man at his shoulder.
“Hóngzhī Sànrén, meet my brother, Lán Wàngjī, at last,” Lán Xīchén said with a smile.
“Lán èrgōngzǐ, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard much about you,” Wèi Wúxiàn greeted with a smile that hid the hitch in her breath.
Lán Wàngjī was even more beautiful than the gossip had led her to believe. He and Zéwú Jūn were visibly related, but his sharp, strong features and bright golden eyes struck Wèi Wúxiàn breathless. He met her gaze with an intensity that made her knees wobble. She took a breath to steady herself before turning back to her seat and taking another sip of tea. Lán Wàngjī settled to her right, with Qín Sū and Lán Xīchén on her left.
“How was your night hunt, Hánguāng Jūn?” she asked, pushing aside the weird feeling in her stomach and focusing back on her job.
“Well.”
Wèi Wúxiàn paused, waiting for him to elaborate, and scrambled to fill the silence when it was clear he wasn’t going to.
“Good, good. I hope it went better than my last night hunt. I’ll tell you, hunting down a rogue yáo boar in a swamp is not fun. I swear I was washing away the bog stench from my hair for weeks!” she rambled. “Ah, apologies. I’ve always been told I ramble too much.” She laughed nervously.
“Nm. Do not mind,” he replied, and oh, his voice! So deep and melodic!
Wèi Wúxiàn almost slapped herself. What was wrong with her? She needed to match this man with a good gentry woman, not fawn all over him!
“You are a cultivator?” Lán Xīchén asked, curiosity piqued.
“Yes, I am,” Wèi Wúxiàn replied but purposefully didn’t elaborate. This was all part of the mystery of Hóngzhī Sànrén, after all.
“I’m glad you are back whole and well, brother-in-law,” Qín Sū said with a kind smile.
Lán Wàngjī nodded his thanks to her, his expression as bland as it had been when he arrived. His eyes looked softer as he talked with his sister-in-law, Wèi Wúxiàn noticed. Did he want a wife like her? Quiet, demure, and sweet? Wèi Wúxiàn could work with that, she thought, ignoring the pit opening in her stomach at the realization that Qín Sū was everything Wèi Wúxiàn was not. She’d already long made her peace with the fact that she would likely end up alone. Her job was to create romance, not be part of it. Somehow, she knew this was going to be hard to remember around Lán Wàngjī.
—oOo—
Wèi Wúxiàn took two weeks to review all the prospective matches for Lán Wàngjī, methodically going through her lists of gentry women, both cultivators and not. During that time, she also spent long hours talking at, and sometimes with, Lán Wàngjī.
He was even better with the junior disciples as she had imagined. Despite having such a cold continence, he was warm and patient with his disciples. He answered every question asked, even if it seemed silly, and explained things clearly and concisely. Wèi Wúxiàn loved watching him teach, especially sword forms— not because he stripped down from his usual seven layers to three, most definitely not. Sometimes Wèi Wúxiàn even joined in, making silly faces at the juniors behind Lán Wàngjī’s back and coming up with new, fun ways to teach the more boring, basic forms.
Finally, Wèi Wúxiàn settled on three women who were bound to impress Lán Wàngjī. She chose female cultivators who could at least keep up with Lán Wàngjī as very few could match him.
First was Luo Qingyang, a woman Wèi Wúxiàn had met on her travels and considered a close friend. She and Lán Wàngjī would get along well, she thought, and she was excited for them to meet. She wasn’t the best choice for the elders, as she was a servant’s daughter, but she had worked her way up to becoming the head disciple of her sect. Wèi Wúxiàn had a feeling Lán Wàngjī didn’t care much for social status. Plus, Luo Qingyang was close friends with Jīn Zixuān, the current Jīn Zōngzhǔ, so there were still political advantages to the match.
The other two were daughters of minor sect leaders, both of them strong cultivators but calm and serene in personality. Either of them would be a good match for Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Wúxiàn thought.
When she brought her choices to Lán Wàngjī and Lán Xīchén, she almost whooped in glee when Lán Wàngjī agreed to meet Luo Qingyang. Sure, he agreed to only meet Luo Qingyang, but one was better than anything Old Zhōng had achieved. Lán Xīchén sent out the proposal that afternoon, and six days later Luo Qingyang arrived in Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù along with a small fleet of her fellow disciples.
“Miánmián!” Wèi Wúxiàn cried, ignoring the hissed reminders of the “no shouting” rule in favor of throwing herself at her friend and enveloping her in a big hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you too, Yuǎndào,” Luó Qīngyáng said, smiling warmly at her friend. She suddenly stiffened in Wèi Wúxiàn’s embrace. “Ah. Lán Zōngzhǔ, Lán èrgōngzǐ.”
Wèi Wúxiàn detached herself from Luó Qīngyáng with a sheepish grin.
“This is my good friend Luó Qīngyáng,” she introduced. “Or Miánmián, as I call her. Of course, you already know Zéwú Jūn and Hánguāng Jūn.”
“It’s an honor,” Luó Qīngyáng bowed.
“Welcome to Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù, Luó Gūniang,” Lán Xīchén greeted with a soft smile.
Lán Wàngjī nodded to her, face icy cold. Luó Qīngyáng stiffened slightly when meeting his eyes before turning her attention to Lán Xīchén.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said with a curtsey.
Lán disciples showed the rest of Luó Qīngyáng’s entourage to the guest quarters as she joined the Twin Jades and Wèi Wúxiàn for tea. It was a slightly awkward affair, as Lán Wàngjī barely said more than a few words to Luó Qīngyáng. He seemed to be either ignoring her or glaring at her, and Wèi Wúxiàn couldn’t figure out why. Luó Qīngyáng was the only person he was willing to meet, so why was he ignoring her now that she was here? Did she not meet his expectations?
Luó Qīngyáng spent four days in Gūsū to see if the match held up. It was clear that her zōngzhǔ had put a lot of pressure on her to secure this match, as a marriage alliance with a Great Sect would be a boon to such a minor sect, which made Wèi Wúxiàn regret ever mentioning her friend’s name.
Wèi Wúxiàn played matchmaker and chaperone on all of Luó Qīngyáng and Lán Wàngjī’s outings. While she tried her best to be unobtrusive, she found herself frequently pulled into their conversations—or lack thereof. Somehow, Wèi Wúxiàn always found herself between Luó Qīngyáng and Lán Wàngjī instead of behind and observing.
When they had tea, Lán Wàngjī always served Wèi Wúxiàn first. On walks in the gorgeous gardens and forests of Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù, Lán Wàngjī encouraged Wèi Wúxiàn’s rambles with his undivided attention and small sounds to tell her he was listening. At dinners in the sect, Lán Wàngjī always placed a jar of chili oil beside Wèi Wúxiàn’s dishes after hearing her complain to Luó Qīngyáng about the Lán’s “tasteless rabbit food.” When Wèi Wúxiàn suggested Lán Wàngjī and Luó Qīngyáng spar, she was somehow roped into sparring with Lán Wàngjī instead. Her face was sore from smiling that day, ecstatic to finally meet her match in cultivation prowess.
One afternoon, Luó Qīngyáng accidentally called Wèi Wúxiàn by her real name rather than Yuǎndào or her title in front of Lán Wàngjī. Somehow, this led to Wèi Wúxiàn calling Lán Wàngjī “Lán Zhàn,” and Lán Wàngjī calling her “Wèi Yīng,” a name she hasn’t been called since her parents died.
On their last outing, Luó Qīngyáng and Lán Wàngjī wandered the markets of Cǎiyī Zhèn. Wèi Wúxiàn started at a comfortable distance away from the potential couple, observing their interactions. At some point during the last three days, the two of them had grown comfortable with each other. What at first seemed to be a doomed match turned into a very real possibility, which filled Wèi Wúxiàn with pride. She wasn’t sure what had happened to cause that change, but she was glad to see it happen. She resolutely ignored the sorrow and jealousy churning in her stomach.
Wèi Wúxiàn was always meant to orchestrate romance, never have it herself.
So lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Luó Qīngyáng stealthily tripping her feet, causing Wèi Wúxiàn to stumble. Just as she braced herself to fall into the street, eyes clenched shut, something warm and sturdy caught her. Wèi Wúxiàn blinked her eyes open to find herself in Lán Wàngjī’s strong arms, one cheek pressed to his chest. With dilated eyes, her breath hitched in her throat. She felt her cheeks flush pink.
“Oh,” she breathed, relaxing further into Lán Wàngjī’s arms for a moment.
No one has caught her from falling since her parents died. Realizing what she was doing and who was holding her, Wèi Wúxiàn quickly scrambled up. Her previous pink blush turned red with embarrassment.
“Ah, this one thanks Lán Èrgōngzǐ for saving them,” she stuttered while taking a few steps back.
Lán Wàngjī watched her with an intensity that made Wèi Wúxiàn want to squirm with delight.
“Yuǎndào! Are you alright?” Luó Qīngyáng said, the concern in her voice barely concealing the smugness beneath it.
“Ah, I’m fine, Miánmián,” Wèi Wúxiàn said with a hasty grin, turning her attention to dusting off her robes.
She did not notice Lán Wàngjī’s subtle glare directed at Luó Qīngyáng, nor Luó Qīngyáng’s responding wink. The rest of the outing followed the same pattern of the last four days. Wèi Wúxiàn distanced herself as best she could before being inexplicably roped into interacting with Lán Wàngjī.
Luó Qīngyáng left the next morning. Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Wàngjī, and Lán Xīchén saw her off at the gates. Luó Qīngyáng bowed politely to the Twin Jades and pulled Wèi Wúxiàn into a tight hug.
“Good luck,” she said with a grin and a wink before mounting her sword and flying off, her sect disciples behind her.
Wèi Wúxiàn was puzzled by her friend's words. Good luck with what?
—oOo—
That evening, Wèi Wúxiàn joined the Lán brothers once again for tea to finalize the betrothal. Wèi Wúxiàn was beyond happy for her friend. Lán Wàngjī was a man beyond perfection and no one could hope to be his exact match, but Luó Qīngyáng would make a worthy spouse for any man, much less a Twin Jade. She continued to ignore any negative feelings that threatened to rise at the thought of their marriage.
After the tea was poured, Lán Xīchén pushed a sheaf of papers towards her. She perused them idly as they made small talk, noting the extremely compatible birth charts. That, however, made her pause. Last she checked, Lán Wàngjī and Luó Qīngyáng’s birth charts were mildly compatible. Did they get the wrong information? She focused her attention on the papers as Lán Xīchén and Lán Wàngjī had a silent conversation together. This wasn’t Luó Qīngyáng’s birth chart, this was—
“Wait,” she said abruptly, looking up at the Twin Jades. “This isn’t a betrothal for Luó Qīngyáng.”
“No,” Lán Wàngjī solemnly replied.
“This is for me,” Wèi Wúxiàn stated more than asked. “This—but Lán Zhàn, didn’t you like Miánmián?”
“Mn,” Lán Wàngjī agreed with a nod. “She is Wèi Yīng’s friend.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“What Wàngjī means is that he liked Luó Gūniang because she is your friend,” Lán Xīchén said.
“Xiōngzhǎng.” He glared at his brother.
“You must use your words, Wàngjī.” Lán Xīchén’s tone bordered on teasing.
“Lán Zhàn?”
Lán Wàngjī took a quiet breath that was almost a sigh.
“Wèi Yīng. Will you marry me?”
Wèi Wúxiàn blinked in disbelief. “Oh. That—this is my birth chart. This is a marriage proposal for me?”
“Only Wèi Yīng,” Lán Wàngjī said.
Wèi Wúxiàn looked at the papers again before breaking into a large grin and all but throwing herself across the table into Lán Wàngjī’s arms, certain he would always catch her.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Lán Zhàn, of course I’ll marry you!”
“Mn.” Lán Wàngjī radiated so much happiness Wèi Wúxiàn wondered why she had ever thought he was cold and unfeeling.
Old Zhōng was going to have a fit, Wèi Wúxiàn thought with glee.
—oOo—
“Have you heard? Hóngzhī Sànrén and Hánguāng Jūn are getting married!” the server exclaimed as he brought back empty trays from the tea house’s main floor.
“Hóngzhī Sànrén? The immortal méiren? Stop joking,” the cook rolled her eyes.
“No, it’s true!” another server joined in. “I heard from my cousin whose father-in-law is a woodworker in Cǎiyī Zhēn. Gūsū Lán are preparing a wedding for their youngest Twin Jade and Hóngzhī Sànrén herself.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be ethereally beautiful? How could that unfeeling Jade win her heart?” another cook asked as she stirred a large pot of soup.
“I heard their wedding is going to be bigger than the Emperor’s! Every Great Sect in the area is going to be in attendance, as well as most of the empire’s gentry,” the first server continued.
“Well of course they’re in attendance,” the first cook scoffed. “She orchestrated all their sons and daughters’ marriages!”
“If only I could go,” one of the maids carrying the washing outside sighed. “Hóngzhī Sànrén is the one who married my sister off to that wonderful rich merchant last year, and she promised she’d be back with an even better match for me!”
“You keep saying that but no one believes you,” the second server grumbled.
“It’s true!” she insisted with a stomp.
“Ā-Měi!” The town courier burst into the tea house kitchens. “There’s a letter from your sister for you!”
Ā-Měi dropped the washing to the floor, ignoring the head cook's scolding, and ripped open the letter. She read it once, twice, then screamed in delight as she held up another envelope made of much nicer paper and sealed with the Gūsū Lán Sect’s official crest.
“I told you!” she screamed. “I told you, I told you!”
“Calm down, Ā-Měi,” one of the cooks snapped.
“I’ve been invited to Hóngzhī Sànrén’s wedding!”
The entire kitchen froze for one disbelieving moment before breaking out into chaos. The official invite was passed around to many hands before Ā-Měi snatched it back and tucked it into the front of her robes. She left the washing on the floor and left the tea house with a more important chore to do. If she was attending Hóngzhī Sànrén and Hánguāng Jūn’s wedding, she needed new robes.