Chapter Text
Fire.
Hot, angry flames.
Flames that completely envelop the black shadow that doesn't fight back. Accepts his fate serenely.
Into the fire.
Lips stubbornly curved up. Not even the flames can take the smile off that face.
A face born to smile.
In spite of everything.
Baoshan Sanren sips the amber liquid from her glass, once again chasing away the fire from her visions. She shakes her head in thought. She doesn't like parties, she never liked them, but you don't have to know that the Editor in Chief of the country's most important Network doesn't like being around people.
Communicator, teacher, press officer... public relations are her daily bread and butter, and yet... She wonders how she will survive until the end of the evening.
The taste of this wine tickles a remote corner of her conscience. An ancient, unknown yet strangely familiar taste. Something that takes her away.
So far away. In time, in space...
It's almost like... but no, it can't be... The Emperor's Smile is something that no longer exists, much less on this side of the world.
She hardly chases away another vision. An ethereal and immaculate place. A spring of pure and crystalline water. Dawn breaking above a soft blanket of white clouds.
Not now. This is not the time. She can't think of Gusu, she can't think of her. Not in this place, not in this time.
She looks around for some distraction, whatever keeps her anchored to the here and now. She is not an Haute Cuture enthusiast, but attending the After Party of the most famous fashion house on the planet is part of her duties. The youngest Lan is the guest of honor, the most sought after testimonial.
The most sought after, not the most loved.
It is not easy to love this shy and taciturn boy. It is not easy to be able to see under all the ice that builds his armor. This is how many define him: icy, an ice statue. There is a big heart down there, but reachable only to a few, very few... Maybe two or three individuals in this world. First of all his big brother.
Lan XiChen is open, kind. A warm ever-present smile on his face, probably the fact that he is his brother's agent is part of WangJi's success. A big part.
Lan WangJi has many talents, prodigy child and brilliant student, he proved to be an excellent actor, singer, model, and even a skilled racer... but XiChen is the mirror that spreads the light. Its amplifier in the world. His voice, where WangJi is his strength, the energy that XiChen draws to face the things of the world.
Brothers. Friends. Allies. Two sides of the same coin. Forged in that unique ideal of justice and righteousness that has given the House of Lan proper weight in the world.
That House she would once have given everything to destroy.
She decides to put down this glass still half full which continues to radiate a bouquet that she cannot resist. She doesn't want to think, not about the past, not about the Lans. At least not about those Lans.
She walks over to the counter without paying too much attention to the pair of broad shoulders in front of her.
-Certainly, sir.- The waiter's voice comes clear to her. -It is produced at the foot of the Mountain, in the south of the country.
At the foot of the Mountain. Sanren becomes more attentive. Xiao XingChen's latest report came from the City at the foot of the Mountain. That's where they attacked the kid.
-They still use the same techniques imported from ancient China a thousand years ago.- The waiter continues. -There was a wine, well a liqueur I would say, very famous in the Gusu region...-
At this Sanren's heart stops.
Gusu...
The broad shoulders turn towards her.
WangJi.
She should have known. Who else could want to ask about this damn wine?
There are things that souls don't forget.
-Interested in wine?- She can't help but ask the young man knowing very well that he is completely, hopelessly abstemious.
-I have to go. Sorry, Sanren.-
She tries to block him: -It's your party, where do you think you're going?-
Lan WangJi looks her straight in the eyes. His gaze is intense, deep. Usually, she's the only one who doesn't shy away from sudden oddities like this.
-Where my soul wants me to be.-
Not another word.
One more clue, she thinks, one more time. Sanren turns to scan the room for a pair of eyes that immediately meet hers.
Lan XiChen's face is drawn. She sees anxiety, worry, and... fatigue, perhaps. It is not easy to keep up with WangJi's sudden changes of course.
He is leaving.
By motorbike.
In the middle of the night.
She looks at the glass still in her hands. Maybe it's time to do something. Maybe the time has come.
Souls know.
8:45 PM Boss Sanren : -Are you still there?-
8:45 PM Stardust : -Yep.-
8:45 PM Boss Sanren : -The Kid?-
8:46 PM Stardust : -Barricaded himself in the Hotel.-
-He's safe.-
-We're in the van. On stakeout.-
8:47 PM Boss Sanren: -I need a full report on my laptop ASAP.-
8:47 PM Stardust : -A full report, boss?-
-What happened to "You're just reporters don't play Sherlock Holmes?"-
8:48 PM Stardust : -Boss?-
-Sanren?-
8:49 PM Stardust : -Ok.-
-Got it.-
-Consider it done.-
-On its way.-
8:49 PM Boss Sanren : -Book a suite under the name Lan and rooms for the Lan XiChen's personal staff and me.
8:49 PM Stardust : -Anything I should know?-
8:58 PM Boss Sanren : -At the right time.-
8:58 PM Stardust : -Ok.-
Sanren ends the thread and checks the email once more.
The Golden Core.
They are excited, blah blah blah...
Everything as expected.
Good.
-How do we get out of this now?- XiChen looks disconsolate. -What the heck is it, this time? Eight hundred miles from here, and in the middle of the night. He said he needed to go. That it was crucial for him.
Crucial, as usual. Like that concert on the ship. We landed him with the helicopter on the deck... Crucial. Like the race in the middle of the desert, right? All to follow a clue.
A clue.- He is almost sarcastic.- Which will lead to another clue. And then to another one.
Sanren watches the young CEO's shoulders bend under the weight of the whole thing. His eyes meet hers. -What do I tell the Council? Uncle will be furious. There is all the international press at this damn event. How can I justify it?-
-You don't have to.-
-Sanren, will this ever end?-
She puts a hand on his shoulder, understanding yet determined. -There is an important Cultural Center, which some time ago had shown interest in WangJi, it is called the Golden Core. It is based in the City at the foot of the Mountain. They carry out a multilingual project on history and culture, between East and West, through music and literature.
-The Literary Café, I remember it. But what does it have to do with him?-
-I told them there was a chance to meet Lan WangJi tomorrow in the late afternoon. And they enthusiastically accepted. Their press office will make a statement on how noble and generous the young scion of the Lan family is, who even hurriedly left the After Party in his honor, in the middle of fashion week, to be present at their most expected cultural event of the season. Proud spokesperson of the ancient culture of his people.
-But how...-
Sanren shrugs: -They said they were honored that finally, a descendant of Lan An has accepted the meeting.-
-I ...- XiChen is out of breath. And Sanren continues: -There is a suite in your name available from dawn and rooms for me and two of yours.
-You?-
-I'll come with you.-
-I can't ask you.
-You didn't.-
A smile finally reappears on Xichen's exhausted face. -The Literary Café. How did you remember it?-
-I am old, not senile...-
-You said it wasn't the right time.
-Maybe it is now.
Sanren's cryptic smile is the last thing XiChen sees before she turns and leaves the room.
The young man is hurt and tried by the long journey.
They set his house on fire. He is here to try to secure the knowledge of his Sect. Or at least part of it.
He has several books with him, treatises on medicine, military strategy, literature, music, and poetry. Some he personally snatched from the flames who tried to take them away.
There are clearly visible traces on him of the battle he had to endure. His once immaculate clothes are burnt in several places, worn out by travel and fatigue. The ribbon on his forehead is stained and wrinkled, his long black hair is disheveled and dirty.
However, this does not prevent his face from smiling gratefully at the monk who welcomes him at the foot of the Mountain.
-Do not fear Lan XiCh... Sect Leader Lan.- The monk bows formally. -We will take extreme care of them.
The laptop buzzer rips Baoshan Sanren out of her vision, her men's report is here.
"Foiled attack on Kid 5:03 PM.
Armed commando disguised as supporters raided theater during rehearsal event tonight.
Event officially canceled 7:00 PM
Kid escorted to hotel 7:50 PM.
Booked first flight tomorrow 7:13 AM.
Kid never left the suite.
Waiting for instructions.
Song Lan. "
Attached two photos.
In the first one, there is a black van built by Wen, what a coincidence... Three men with their faces covered are on board. In the other one, there is a black cloak up to the feet. The eternal smile of a guy who, apparently, attracts trouble like a magnet is emerging from it.
That Kid is too noble for this world. Always ready to take sides in defense of the weak, against injustices, regardless of the consequences. Always in the front row, with his head held high.
His stubbornness will always get him in trouble.
But that's the way he is, like his mother. On the side of the righteous. Until the end. No regrets. Whatever it takes.
And it really cost her a lot.
Cangse Sanren.
She hasn't thought of her for years now.
Her best disciple. Her most promising researcher.
She sees her eternally smiling face in her mind. Always ready to see the good in people.
Choosing her over Lan Qiren in the directorate of the new department had been the right choice.
Despite everything.
At first, she just wanted to punish the Lans for what they had done to Lan Yi.
Lan Yi was the first granddaughter of Lan An, designated by her grandfather himself as his empire's heir. And she was more than capable of managing the House as well as running both the Company and the Education Center.
But she was a woman. And many people turned up their noses.
When the Wen Center published the research in the most prestigious scientific journal, which had cost the Lan Center years of study and an immeasurable amount of resources, Lan Yi was accused of negligence.
Because she is a woman, went untold between the lines.
The Council had already expressed concern that the digitization she promoted was dangerous. The database was too vulnerable without real padlocks and solid bolts to protect it.
The Wens had stolen the files, evidently, but no one could prove it.
Lan Yi was furious. Blinded by vengeance and anxious to prove herself, she had developed a revolutionary computer program, a small thing that could fit on a small punch card, in a time when only one computer occupied a whole room.
If not correctly uninstalled, the program replicated its code indefinitely, occupying all the machine's memory, making it useless.
Baoshan Sanren had warned her that it could become dangerous. Very dangerous. The killer program could go unnoticed on any computer, even remotely. It could spread unchecked like a virus. And it could backfire on them.
She had begged her not to install such a threat into the Center's computer core.
But she wanted revenge; she wanted to defeat the Wens. She didn't want them to get away with it. They had stolen the work of years of Lans' research. And she was the head of the Company. She ran the Center.
She simply could not allow it.
And in fact, the Wen Center machines were irremediably disabled by the program, but nothing could prevent the killer code from replicating itself uncontrolled elsewhere.
It was actually the first malware in history, born almost a decade before the much more famous Creeper.
Realizing its power, she could only hide it from the world. But the Council asked her to account for it, and she was forced to admit that she had created something terrible, something that had to be suppressed.
The senior leaders did not like this. The Lans have always been the image of righteousness and fairness. No Lan would ever create something to harm. It doesn't matter whom.
The House dissociated from her and her work. Lan Yi was blamed for using shareholder resources for personal purposes.
The elders had not helped her.
The world had condemned her.
The Council had dismissed her. And she had withdrawn, defeated. Her code disappearing with her.
The Lans had disowened her.
And Sanren had lost her best friend, her brightest scientist, and a vital piece of her heart in one fell swoop.
When the Center merged with the University, and Sanren took over the new Research and Development department's heading, a very young LanQiren was among his best students. But he was a Lan, and she hadn't forgiven.
And so she had choosen Cangse Sanren.
In the end, it turned out to be the right choice. Lan Qiren could never equate her brightness. They were both incredibly experienced and qualified, but she had that genius twist that made the difference.
The department under her leadership had been thriving as never before.
The whole world witnessed this.
After all, perhaps even Qiren himself would have admitted it.
Perhaps.
If he himself hadn't taken credit for it just a few years later.
Cangse Sanren had met a young literature teacher, Wei Changze. Within a few months, they fell in love, got married, and gave up everything to go around the Country, starting an impressive process of literacy in the most disadvantaged areas.
And so, the leadership of the department had naturally shifted to Lan Qiren.
By then, Sanren had had enough.
She went away, founding her exclusive Communication Academy in the mountains.
She didn't want to have anything to do with the Lans anymore. Not the Company, not the Network, not the Research and Development department. Nothing more.
She stayed in touch with the Weis. Letters from every corner of the continent updated her on their progress, sometimes asking for advice on new projects, sometimes bringing joyful news.
Like their baby on the way.
They asked her to be his Godmother, and she happily agreed.
She had felt honored and proud in holding that impertinent little bundle who attracted everyone's attention with his dazzling smile.
His mother's smile.
The smile he has never lost. Not even now.
Not even after losing both his parents, not even after being targeted by those who had already destroyed his parents' work.
Not even when the media attacks on his person became real, it seems.
Sanren looks again at the picture in front of her. That smile is still there. Although the boy's face is tired, exhausted.
The coat he wears helps to make everything darker. An eerie black shadow. Where on earth did he ever get that coat? He looks like Neo's double...
A red something dances like fire in his hair. It looks like Sanren's ribbon, but she lost it in the desert a long time ago. In that remote place where WangJi had ridden in an off-circuit Moto Gp race.
She zooms into the photo, Song Lan always sends very high-resolution pictures saying it's the small details that can make the difference. No doubt, that's her ribbon.
Hers.
In the Kid's hair.
She lost it, and he found it.
In the middle of nowhere.
Souls seek each other.
Sanren drops onto her uncomfortable chair. They really crossed paths.
Maybe even several times.
She had noticed his smiling face on the billboards that day. It was his, the face of the energy drink that sponsored the competition WangJi had easily won. But she never would have thought that the Kid was also there in person.
They had crossed paths without meeting.
She and the Kid.
And also WangJi and the Kid...
In the middle of nowhere.
Souls chase each other.
Photos don't lie. They can't.
In this photo, there is also a bright green light next to the Kid. It takes a while before she realizes that it is only the reflection of the headlights on a horrible travel bag at his feet.
Her heart tightens. In that briefcase, cheap and ugly, she knows there is the Kid's entire life.
He is one who travels light. Always ready to start over.
She can picture the content: a change of clothes, maybe two. A laptop probably out of memory. His sketchbooks and some pencils. The tablet where he saved all his books and music, and that diary he has been carrying around for years. A leather cover diary to write down important thoughts, as he calls them. A habit he had taken up in the Academy and never lost.
The important thoughts.
The clues...
Coincidences?
Yeah... Coincidences.
She gently brushes the laptop screen with a finger. Caresses that face she now only sees in the pictures that her reporters Xiao XingChen and Song Lan take around the world.
Go home, she thinks, it's time.
The water is still. The surface is a mirror that reflects the very clear blue of the sky.
The white robes of the young master, on the other hand, move gently, as if a light breeze were waving them. They dance on the water while he cross-legged plays his zither.
His eyes are closed, His expression solemn.
It's a beauty that takes your breath away. It looks like a statue of pure jade.
Not a hair is out of place. The ribbon on the forehead is immaculate. The nimble fingers move on the strings without hesitation.
But while he plays, the landscape around him freezes.
The crystals advance towards him relentlessly. They wrap everything up.
They swallow everything.
It's White Death.
Baoshan Sanren no longer wonders what these visions mean. Curiously she wonders whether fire or ice is more powerful.
Fire in its unpredictable disruption, or ice with its solid strength?
A knock on the door takes her away from her thoughts. Slowly she gets up; only one person can knock on her door at this hour.
-XiChen. Come in.-
-Transportation is in turmoil. I arranged for Uncle to fly back by the Company jet. The team will travel with him, only my personal staff stays with me. I asked for a car ready for us tomorrow morning at seven.
-I'll be ready.-
-Sanren... you don't have to do that.
-I know.-
If Lan XiChen wonders once again why Sanren is so comfortable with his younger brother's quirks, he doesn't show it.
He smiles at her gratefully. -Good night, Sanren. See you tomorrow.-
-Try to rest, XiChen.-
-I'll try.-
Sanren closes the door behind him and packs his suitcase. On top of it all, a black felt bag.
She's been carrying it for weeks.
It was the strangest shopping impulse of her life. At first, she thought of it as Lan WangJi's birthday present, but then something stopped her. It didn't seem like the right time.
In more than a month now, the right moment has not yet come.
Not yet.