Chapter Text
This far up the mountain, the air is thin and cool, brushing against our cheeks in what the others probably find to be pleasant. To me, it feels like a blade resting lightly against my exposed throat. And it will only get sharper and colder the higher we ascend.
I try to remind myself that I signed up for this but the stabbing numbness at the tips of my fingers made it hard to be anything but disgruntled. I look ahead at my brother and our Lan guide. The cold does not seem to even exist to them, their golden core likely circulating qi more rapidly to keep them warm. Unfortunately my own would sooner fall apart at the seams than accelerate even a hair faster.
Stupid, useless, broken core. Decrepit chunk of qi.
The wind rushes through me again, making goosebumps raise along my arms, and if I were a lesser man my teeth would be chattering from it. As it is, I shiver in little pathetic repressed spasms. But I signed up for this. Or, rather, I was signed up for this. Does it count as at-will employment if one has been voluntold for the majority of their early life that they’d be hiking up a frigid mountain to live the remainder of that life with an equally frigid cultivation clan?
Stupid contract. Stupid ancestor. Stupid stupid STUPID.
These kinds of things must really be said three times for proper emphasis.
My doom and gloom must be showing through because while our guide’s back is turned, Jun-ge drives an elbow into my ribs. The look on his face screams ‘knock it off’. It is the same haughty sneer he always has; one side of his mouth lifts more than the other, pushing his cheek up and making his eyes scrunch narrowly. The only time I’ve ever seen him smile pleasantly is to our father, or someone he is asking a favor from.
Jun-ge’s boney elbow pushes the already sparse air from my lungs, and I have to adjust my breathing so as not to keel over the side of the steep mountain path and die. He really needs to learn to control his strength. Or maybe he is doing it on purpose. It doesn’t matter either way.
Pressing a hand lightly against my side just once before letting the pain drift to the back of my mind, I focus on the scenery instead, letting my brother keep pace and parley with our stuffy guide.
We walk sedately along the main path up the mountain. It presents a beautiful open view of the serene mountainscape and neighboring valley. We aren’t particularly high up yet but I can still see how a fair distance away lays the bustling lake-town, Caiyi; no more than a dot amongst the foothills.
I imagine it is similar to Moling, which also nestles itself between a body of water and a mountain. The only difference between Moling and Caiyi is probably that back home, the cultivators live amongst the villagers instead of sequestering themselves up a ridiculously cold and windy mountain.
The burn in my legs is another pain, on top of the bruising to my torso from my brother, that begins to register more and more the higher we climb. I am simply not made to climb this many stairs, it’s ridiculous.
If we don’t get to our destination soon, I will be very very tempted to whip out my sword and fly up the rest of way, propriety be damned. Jun-ge and Lan Whoever are very lucky that we soon emerge from the path to find ourselves outside the first gate.
Now, we are at least officially entering Lan Clan territory.
As with most of the Great Sects, the sect oversees a large swath of land inhabited by surrounding villages and the common people. However, they also hold specific power over their own ancestral land. This dominion over their ancestral territory is absolute and cannot be superseded; not even by the Emperor himself. The Great Sects are closer in structure to an ancient fief or modern autonomous zone; they generate income and trade through the surrounding cities and in return, protect the common people from harmful ghosts, spirits, curses, etc. They are not under the command of the Emperor, though they do pay taxes to the Imperial Family, and they do not allow for sanctuary to criminals wanted by the crown.
With that, Clan territories tend to be the administrative hub of the overall Sect lands. So while Gusu Lan Sect was expansive and covered many li, the Lan Clan territory was just the Cloud Recesses.
Which isn’t to say the Cloud Recesses is a small area. Evidently, nothing about the Cloud Recesses is small.
In front of us, the first gate towers over the younger trees, the top of it brushing against the canopy, clearing well over twenty feet in height. It isn’t connected to any physical wall but I assume that to the side of it, nasty wards guard the outer boarder in place of a physical structure.
The square stone pillars that support the sloped roof are several meters thick and carved with cloud motifs. The wooden sign at the top reads “Cloud Recesses” in neat script and the roof tiles are a deep cobalt blue.
How much does it cost to repaint those tiles? They’re such an expensive color too…
The soft tang of the various wind chimes and bells that hang from the eaves brings me out of my musings with a cool clarity. They lend a pleasant sound to every slight breeze but instead of feeling soothed, I find it more threatening. The Lan are a clan renowned for their musical cultivation.
Here I am, pondering the finances of the Lan, when I am literally about to enter my own personal hell and probably die. If not from the abundant natural qi found in the area wrecking havoc on my pathetically unstable golden core, then most definitely from the general plot progression of the novel that I am totally not in.
There is a monument just to the side of the gate.
It stands wide and tall, aptly named it seems since now that I am seeing it, it very much does feel like an entire “wall”. The carved seal script —that few can even read— is set into the smooth stone, crisply outlining thousands of rules. A small boulder displays, similarly carved, the title of the monstrosity: “规训石壁”, Wall of Discipline. A sudden onslaught of cold sweat makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
It could just be a coincidence still! You never know!
I can't help catching a few of the rules.
Do not tell lies.
Do not be of two minds.
Do not say one thing and mean another.
I stare harder at The Wall, as if I can move it with my mind and send it tumbling down the mountainside. What did I do to deserve this? To be stuck as Su She, the scummy, annoying, coward; who rather than pose any real threat to the protagonist, is only a dull tool used by the real mastermind.
The endless repetition of the words “Do not…” carved into the Wall of Discipline begin to swim in front of me, my vision turns hazy and starts to blacken at the edges before I realize I’ve stopped breathing. My lungs burn and Jun-ge is staring at me, baffled. I blink, giving a small smile despite the discordant screams inside my brain, “Apologies, I was just… reading.”
My older brother glances at me before nodding towards our Lan guide, “As he says, it is certainly impressive enough to warrant such attention,” always such a smooth talker, “but please, Lan-gongzi, let us continue with the tour.”
In the novel, Su She was written as a rather straight-forward lackey, and I understand that as a character who was barely more important than a nameless NPC, his full backstory had been an unnecessary detail to the overall narrative. But now that I am him, I would like to have known all this beforehand! I mean I —as him— have a job, an actual purpose for being in Gusu that was never originally mentioned. I have a whole family with traditions and expectations and-
Dread curls up in my stomach like a dead spider. Our Lan guide, seemingly mollified by my brother’s (blatant) flattery, only gives me a brief glance before turning and striding through the imposing gate of the Cloud Recesses, his white ribbon fluttering haughtily behind him.
Our little group of three cross under the gate, passing through wards which brush against my skin warmly, in contrast to the chill of the mountain. It raises goosebumps along my arms, as we officially enter the Cloud Recesses of Gusu.
My hands shake and I grip them behind my back like it is just another Tuesday and I am taking a leisurely stroll. On the outside, I radiate unbothered, polite, young master, but on the inside it’s just a long and unending scream.
Just the wailing of the damned (me) into the eternal void. No thoughts. Just stone cold horror.
I am the closest I have ever been to confirming my suspicions and it makes me want to run away even more. My hold on sanity is slipping, but I cling by my metaphorical fingernails to the idea that everything is all coincidence.
Because anyone can choose clouds as their motif. Anyone can decide headbands are cool and super special. Anyone can have the name Lan and be from a place called Cloud Recesses. Anyone can decide to carve three thousand rules onto a stupidly large rock wall.
It’s all a coincidence. There is no war in Ba Sing Se.
I wish Jun-ge would walk slower.
The gate is not where the main complex is. It’s simply the grand precursor to another debilitatingly long walk to the main complex. And while my body riots at the thought of more cardio, my mind is grateful for the time to collect myself before I meet Lan Wangji; before nothing can be denied anymore.
If I’d been able to have my way, I’d be a rogue cultivator, traveling around and enjoying myself. And if not that, I would have been perfectly content as a stay-at-home busybody. I would sooner organize the entirety of Moling’s taxes than be exactly where I am at the current moment.
But alas, I was born Su She, fourth son of Su Zimo, and Lan Wangji’s bodyguard (apparently).
I wish I could shake the shoulders of whichever ancestor (it was Su Lun, that bastard) struck this deal and get them to take it back. Having a lifelong debt to the Lan family is great and all, but swearing to have it upheld by each new generation is a bit much! Plus, where was this in the novel? If it wasn’t mentioned back there, why does it even exist!?!
I could have lived my life in blissful denial if not for this godforsaken debt between the Su and the Lan. Of course the only reason I’d even agreed to go and “do my duty” or whatever was because—
Nope. Not thinking about that.
—and the paranoia had been genuinely making me see things in the corners of the room. I’d been losing my mind!
I should have stayed and succumbed to psychosis, it would have been the kinder option.
We are led up a few more stairs and through a second, more typically sized, gate (attached to a physical wall this time) into what I assume is the central complex where the inner disciples stay and classes are held. I step delicately over the menkan and into the main pavilion like nothing is wrong.
Directly ahead of us (further than expected but not terribly far) is the main hall, a two story monstrosity of a building, its width alone spans the whole of the courtyard. From the corner eaves hang some silver wind chimes; each shaped like a lingxiao flower, with a single metal weight wrought in the image of the Gusu Lan Sect symbol and two white ribbons fluttering in the breeze.
Overall, the architecture is elegant (minus the clear expensive stylistic choices and absurd size of the buildings) as expected and the grounds are clean and clear of any debris. It is pretty much your typical Siheyuan style arrangement, the familiarity of which does little to ease my growing discomfort.
Crossing the quad, we enter underneath the awning of the main hall.
The ground floor of the hall is connected to the other side-houses via pristine covered walkways and as we follow through one of those walkways, along the side of the main building to emerge behind it, I almost gasp.
The scene before me made the main pavilion look humble. Sprawled ahead of us is practically a small city. From our spot, the true expanse of the peak is revealed.
I hadn’t forgotten that Cloud Recesses was situated on a literal mountain but I hadn’t really considered what that meant.
Cloud Recesses encompassed the entirety of the eastern mountainside.
Buildings, some collected into small complexes with singular courtyards and some standing alone, dot the landscape. Between them, bridges, trails, and pathways connect neighboring areas, from the most precarious to the furthest away, like spiderweb threads. It boasts an impressive and un-Lan-like disregard for sensible civil engineering.
The phrase “burning of Cloud Recesses” flashes to the forefront of my mind, making my stomach twist violently. Would this whole mountainside be engulfed in flames?
Jun-ge makes simple conversation with our guide, thankfully fulfilling his role as my social buffer (not that he knew about that, otherwise he might not have done so) while I struggle to maintain a polite countenance, a small benign smile permanently etched on my face.
We descend a few short stairs, take a right turn and after a short scenic walk, come upon what I can only assume to be a facility of some kind. The people coming in and out are walking briskly, intent on some task or another. I can see several that are carrying bolts of white fabric into the building.
Stepping inside, we enter into a small room, with floor to ceiling shelves lining the walls and a pale blue curtain covering a doorway in the back of it, presumably one that leads to a larger workroom.
Looking around, half of the shelves are occupied with neatly folded Gusu Lan uniforms that are stacked according to size. The other half of the shelves are empty, though on a few I can spot small paper notes being used as placeholders. There is no other furniture, only a small desk in the back next to the blue curtain where a young girl sits, blatantly bored out of her mind and reading some kind of book to pass the time.
She glances up at our arrival, taking only a moment to see who we are before waving a hand haphazardly, all but shooing us away without a word. Our Lan guide huffs, irritated, but doesn’t correct her manners.
We are brought past the desk, and our guide brushes the curtain aside to allow us in. My eyes catch the near invisible embroidery on the fabric it as we slide passed it. With such a quick look I couldn’t discern what it means but I could feel that it’s heavily imbued with qi.
Interesting.
Then we are in the main workroom.
The environment on either side of that flimsy curtain is directly and aggressively opposed. The small front room had been quiet and still; now deeper inside, I’m assaulted by a barrage of sensory information, so much at once it makes my head spin and my temples start to twinge with the beginnings of a headache. The rhythmic clacks and hum of looms, the earthy smell of raw silk, and the subtle sweetness of dyes, all of it having been tightly contained. I assume that this is what the talismans on the curtain were for.
It seems the Lan like to sweep all their chaos under the proverbial rug.
The space is divided into different sections, each clearly dedicated towards a specific aspect of cloth making. Massive wooden looms sit in the back of the room with long, delicate threads stretched taut across the frames. Lining the walls are more towering shelves, holding large spools of silk, baskets of various threads, and countless clay jars. Sunlight filters through small, latticed windows, brightening the space and highlighting the dust motes in the air.
To the side, various changing screens, stools and tools stand.
It is a mess of activity. Some people are getting measured or changing behind privacy screens, some are bent over the various low tables strewn about the room, diligently embroidering more white threads into already stark white robes. The air around those tables is practically humming with energy.
An older woman with a severe expression approaches us, her greying hair bound tightly in a ponytail. Head seamstress maybe?
Our guide drops into a rather courteous bow, “Head tailor Hua,” he greets. I was right.
“These are?” She prompts while gesturing to us, getting straight to the point.
“Su Jiahao and Su Minshan, the new guards…” he abruptly ends his sentence there with a small wince.
Tailor Hua clears her throat delicately, “I see. Your uniforms are ready. Please try them on so we can ensure they fit correctly.”
The encounter between the two Lans peaks my interest. Clearly, there is something they didn’t want to talk about or rather thought they shouldn’t talk about with my brother and I in company.
The dull throbbing in my head gets worse the longer I stay in the room, so while filing that interaction away for later, I receive my new robes and quickly move behind an empty screen to change. The sooner I finish up here, the sooner I can leave.
We had been each given two sets robes and our own forehead ribbons. Since we aren’t main-branch, our ribbons are simple but high quality. I run my hands down the length of the white fabric, feeling lost.
Everything is happening so fast.
My fingers brush over the embroidered clouds that had been sparsely sewn into my ribbon. They are the same white as the ribbon, near invisible from a distance. When I put this on, it would be one more thing I can’t deny anymore.
I change, carefully folding my old clothes and trading my darker blue tones for the paler Gusu palette. I’m unused to how flowy the Gusu Lan uniform are. My old robes had been fitted, allowing for freer movement, but these new ones have much more fabric. Nevertheless, I make sure everything is properly tucked and wrinkle free before emerging from behind the changing screen.
Thankfully, there are no adjustments needed so we’re able to leave without fuss. And as the pale blue curtain falls back into place behind us, the sounds and smells are abruptly cut off, providing some relief to my building headache.
Jun-ge is not a fan of the pastels and it shows. Stamped on his face is a rare and impressive scowl. As we walk unhurriedly back the way we’d come, I discretely pinch my brother’s arm when no one is looking. He jolts, frowning down at me intensely. I widen my smile pointedly, just a bit. He doesn’t take the hint at first but at my subtle poking and prodding, his brow smooths out at least and his scowl fades to a slight frown which could be taken for a resting bitch face instead of a personal affront.
I’ll take it.
We come back to the main hall and I take some calming breaths. It’s time to face the music.
The main hall is large on the outside but the inside is practically cavernous. Spare decorations mean that the immensity of the space becomes almost oppressive. The elegance and finery are portrayed in the craftsmanship of the walls and the details that are carved into the supporting pillars. It is in the quality of the wood or the art (what few pieces it has) that hang on the walls. It is understated but still luxurious.
A bit pompous if I’m being honest.
The floor is polished to a shine and I only notice because of how hard I am staring at it.
In the center of the room, a large table has been set up for a tea ceremony, and seated comfortably there are three people I’d been dreading to meet, all dressed immaculately in pale robes.
I’d been told what to expect to a certain degree. Both heirs, Lan Wangji —my charge—, and Lan Xichen —my brother’s charge—, as well as Lan Qiren —the acting sect leader— would be in attendance. I would greet them all properly and make an oath of service before joining them at the table. Lastly, my brother and I would serve everyone tea and our lifelong positions would officially begin.
We approach the table and kneel a small distance away from it. The three Lans stare us down equally measuring and curious. Lan Qiren sits in the middle, his severe face is even and devoid of judgment, but I know he is watching our every move. Lan Xichen is on his right, and Lan Wangji is on the left.
It isn’t hard to figure out which heir is which. Lan Xichen actually smiled when we arrived, so that could only mean that Lan Wangji is the one on the left, the one exuding all the warmth and personality of a boulder in the Cold Spring.
Distantly I hear my brother start to introduce himself so I follow his example, “This one is Su She, courtesy name Su Minshan,” This is it. The panic in me builds like a storm surge, barely held back by the crumbling self-restraint I’ve worked so hard on for the last decade.
I had reincarnated into a stupid fantasy ancient china martial world novel thing.
Each word out of my mouth is a bitter, ashen, defeat. I’m nothing more than a guard dog now, and I would be at the painful mercy of the plot for the next twenty odd years until I die as a cowardly lackey to the real villain.
I dimly consider taking the steaming cup of tea in my hand and splashing it onto Lan Qiren’s face. I want to kick my brother in the stomach and run off. Flip the table, flip them all the bird, and let my soul escape its mortal chains.
I do none of those things. Obviously. But I can dream of a world in which I do.
I pour the tea properly, offer the tea properly, say my oaths correctly with all the proper reverence or deference or whatever. And then, upon extending my spiritual weapon to its full height, I get to swear on my beloved Xiangjue that I will protect Lan Wangji with my life. My knuckles turn white from how tightly I hold onto it. The end of the spear shaft stands firmly on the ground and it is the only thing keeping me upright.
Despite its age, it’s still an imposing thing. The wood is a dark russet color, polished and bold against the bright red tassel that separates the pole from the blade, with only a few gouges in it to speak towards its bloody history. It is made of hickory, imbued with not only my own qi but also the remnants of qi from my paternal great-grandfather. The mix of new and old energy is soothing as it rushes through my spiritual veins, like someone is cheering me on, reassuring me. I am quite literally leaning on the strength of my ancestor.
Xiangjue means “resembling a shrike”, which I find endlessly amusing (if a bit on the nose). The knowledge that dad jokes and wry humor is an inheritable trait is a balm to the soul.
Lan Wangji accepts my oath with a graceful nod.
As the ceremony comes to a close, I glance at Lan Xichen and Jun-ge. The two of them are the image of professional civility and budding friendship, heads inclined towards each other and speaking in quiet pleasant tones.
Looking at the teen next to me, I almost sigh out loud, the air is begging to escape in a dramatic huff, but I’m a professional servant/bodyguard now so I cannot be rude to my charge. After a beat, Lan Wangji’s eyes slide over to mine and our gazes meet… for all of one second before his continue their path, looking over my shoulder instead of my face.
Lan Wangji, you can’t be so cold! Please don’t make this worse for me!
I could have wept at the awkward air between us, but as it is, I’m still processing my new normal and since Lan Wangji seems to silently reject any and all eye contact. Which means unfortunately that we cannot bridge the divide that is our collective social ineptitude.
I’ll just have to suffer through the awkwardness.
Probably for the rest of my miserable life.