Chapter Text
The first thing Wei Ying became aware of was cold steel at his throat.
Several blades, not one.
For a disoriented instant, his thoughts tried to turn the sensation into something distant and unreal, some lingering fragment of sleep refusing to fade. The chill against his skin destroyed that illusion quickly enough. Metal did not lie. Neither did the breathing surrounding him—steady, measured, trained.
He did not move.
Sleep weighed heavily on his limbs, but instinct cut through the haze with practiced ease. His eyes opened slowly to dim lantern light and the white robes gathered around his bed.
Gusu Lan Sect disciples.
Of course.
They stood in disciplined silence, swords unwavering, expressions composed to the point of severity. No shaking hands. No uncertainty. Whatever this was, it had been decided long before they entered his room.
Wei Ying released a careful breath, mindful of the blade resting against his throat. “Well,” he said, his voice rough with sleep, “this is a new way to wake up.”
No one laughed.
That silence unsettled him more than the swords.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
“You will come with us,” one disciple said. He sounded young despite the formal restraint in his voice. “You are to be detained and questioned.”
“Questioned?” Wei Ying repeated.
His thoughts immediately turned toward the previous day. Punishment. Endless copying until his wrist ached. Kneeling long enough for his legs to lose feeling. Lan Wangji watching over him with that unyielding calm that somehow felt harsher than open anger.
Tedious. Embarrassing. Entirely ordinary.
Nothing that should lead to this.
Wei Ying frowned faintly. “Did I break a new rule I haven’t heard about yet?”
Another disciple stepped closer, his sword pressing a fraction nearer in warning.
“Do not resist.”
Wei Ying gave a quiet huff. “I’m not resisting. I’m confused.”
He lifted his hands slowly, palms open where everyone could see them. Several disciples stiffened at once, alert for the slightest wrong movement, though none of them struck.
They were prepared to hurt him if necessary.
That meant this was no ordinary punishment.
Wei Ying swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt the cold floor beneath his feet. Only then did he notice the absence that hollowed the room.
No one else was there.
The other Jiang disciples should have been nearby. Someone should have complained about the noise by now.
Instead, there was only silence.
His gaze swept across the empty room. “Where are they?”
No answer came.
Wei Ying’s smile weakened at the edges. “Fine,” he said lightly, though the sound rang thinner than he intended. “Lead the way.”
—
The Cloud Recesses had always been quiet, though this silence felt strained enough to break.
Every footstep echoed too sharply against the stone paths. Lantern light spilled across the walkways in pale gold, illuminating disciples who stopped to watch him pass.
Their eyes followed him openly.
Not curious.
Judging.
Wei Ying felt the weight of those stares settle across his shoulders. He resisted the urge to demand what rumors had spread so quickly through the sect.
“You’re all being very dramatic tonight,” he muttered instead. Familiar humor came easily, even now. “If this is about the wine, I swear—”
“It is not about the wine,” the lead disciple said sharply.
Wei Ying fell silent at once.
Cold unease slid deeper into his chest.
—
They stopped before a hall Wei Ying had never entered before.
He recognized it immediately. Everyone within the cultivation world knew this place, though disciples were never summoned there in the middle of the night beneath armed escort.
Light poured through the open doors.
Too bright.
Too crowded.
Too important.
Wei Ying stepped inside and immediately saw the elders seated in rigid authority. Familiar faces stood along the edges of the hall, their expressions grave. Among them stood Lan Wangji, straight-backed and pale beneath the lantern glow.
“Bring him forward.”
The command cut through the hall before Wei Ying could speak.
Hands forced him to his knees.
This time, he did not resist.
A heavy feeling settled slowly through his chest, cold and dense enough to make breathing difficult.
“What did I do?” he asked quietly.
No one answered at first, and the silence stretched long enough for his pulse to begin pounding in his ears.
Then one elder spoke.
“Jiang Wanyin, heir of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, has grievously injured Lan Xichen, heir of the Gusu Lan Sect.”
For a moment, the words refused to settle into meaning.
Wei Ying heard them clearly enough, but his thoughts could not connect them into anything real. The accusation drifted through his mind like fragments from someone else’s story.
Then understanding struck.
The world tilted beneath him.
Wei Ying blinked once, staring ahead. “That’s not funny.”
No one reacted.
His denial came immediately afterward, sharp with disbelief. “That’s impossible. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t—”
His gaze snapped toward Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji did not look at him.
Something inside Wei Ying faltered.
“You were the last known person in contact with him before the incident,” the elder continued. “You will answer truthfully.”
Wei Ying shook his head hard enough for loose strands of hair to fall across his face. “I wasn’t with him. I was being punished all day. Ask Lan Zhan.”
The answer should have come easily.
Lan Wangji had witnessed everything. He could confirm it without hesitation.
Silence filled the hall instead.
Wei Ying turned slowly toward him, unease sinking deeper with every passing breath.
Lan Wangji still would not meet his eyes.
That hurt far more than the accusation itself.
“…Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked quietly.
At last, Lan Wangji spoke.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “You were under punishment.”
Relief rose so quickly it almost made Wei Ying dizzy.
Then Lan Wangji continued.
“But after returning to your quarters, your whereabouts could not be confirmed.”
Wei Ying stared at him.
“That’s because I was asleep,” he said quickly, urgency sharpening his voice. “I told you already. I went back to my room, everyone else was gone, and I—”
“You expect us to believe,” another elder interrupted coldly, “that while the Jiang heir nearly killed our sect heir, you remained asleep through the entire matter?”
Wei Ying’s temper flared at once. Anger came easier than the tightness building beneath his ribs.
“Yes,” he snapped. “Because I didn’t know it was happening!”
No one softened.
No one looked convinced.
The accusation no longer needed words. It had already settled over the room completely.
They think I’m involved.
The realization closed around him like tightening chains.
His hands curled into fists against his knees, nails biting into his palms. “Where is Jiang Cheng?” he demanded.
Silence.
Wei Ying’s voice sharpened. “Where is he?”
No answer came.
That silence frightened him more than anything else had.
Fear surged coldly through his chest.
“…Is he alive?”
“He lives,” an elder replied.
Wei Ying exhaled shakily, tension loosening just enough for him to breathe again.
“And Zewu-jun?”
“Grievously injured.”
Not dead.
The distinction should have comforted him more than it did.
Wei Ying swallowed hard, thoughts racing without direction. Jiang Cheng would never attack Lan Xichen without cause. Even imagining such a thing felt impossible.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Wei Ying said quietly. “Jiang Cheng would never do this. There has to be some mistake.”
“Then explain it,” the elder said.
Wei Ying released a quiet, humorless breath.
Explain it?
He scarcely understood it himself.
Every gaze within the hall rested on him now, expectant and severe, waiting for answers he did not possess. Among them stood Lan Wangji, silent beneath the lantern light, his attention fixed somewhere beyond Wei Ying entirely.
He did not look toward him.
He did not speak in his defense.
He offered nothing at all.
That absence settled more heavily than Wei Ying wanted to admit.
A bitter thought surfaced despite himself. Lan Xichen is his brother. You are Jiang. What else was there for him to do?
Wei Ying forced the thought aside before it could root itself more deeply. Whatever he felt here had no value in this room.
Slowly, he straightened where he knelt. The easy carelessness that usually clung to him faded from view, replaced by something calmer and far more restrained. When he inclined his head in acknowledgment, the gesture carried enough composure that several elders studied him more carefully afterward.
“As you wish.”
If anyone noticed the shift in him, no one commented upon it.
“Your activities yesterday,” one elder said. “From dawn until nightfall. Speak fully.”
Wei Ying drew a slow breath, steadying his thoughts. Confusion would only harm him here. No one intended to guide him through this questioning, and no one would speak carelessly on his behalf.
That left only himself.
He allowed several heartbeats to pass before answering, arranging the events of the previous day carefully within his mind. Madam Yu’s scrutiny had long ago taught him the danger of careless speech, while his place within the Jiang Sect had taught him something equally important: in rooms such as this, every hesitation carried meaning.
More importantly, every omission did as well.
He could not afford disorder now. The Jiang disciples remained somewhere beyond these walls, vulnerable to suspicion simply through association with him and Jiang Cheng alike. If he allowed anger to govern his voice, consequences would spread far beyond himself.
“I woke before dawn,” Wei Ying began evenly. “I attended the morning lectures. Afterward, punishment was assigned for violating sect rules.”
“For what offenses?” another elder asked.
The faintest hint of amusement touched Wei Ying’s expression before disappearing again. “Several minor ones. The chief offense involved bringing alcohol into the Cloud Recesses.”
Disapproval moved visibly through the room.
Predictable.
“Continue.”
“My punishment took place within the library pavilion under the supervision of Second Young Master Lan.” Wei Ying kept his gaze forward rather than turning toward Lan Wangji. Watching him now would reveal nothing useful. “I copied sect rules and remained kneeling as instructed. This continued until dusk.”
“And during this time, you did not leave?”
“No.”
“Not even once?”
Wei Ying met the elder’s gaze directly. “Not once.”
The elder watched him closely, as though searching for falsehood somewhere within his expression rather than his words.
“Second Young Master Lan,” he said at last. “Confirm this.”
Lan Wangji answered immediately, his voice level and composed. “He remained under supervision throughout the duration of the punishment.”
Wei Ying noticed the phrasing at once.
Carefully chosen. Limited entirely to necessity.
A thoroughly Lan response.
He stored the detail away without outward reaction.
“My punishment concluded at dusk,” Wei Ying continued. “Afterward, I returned to my quarters.”
“And then?”
“I found them empty. None of the Jiang disciples were present.” He allowed a brief moment of consideration before continuing naturally. “At the time, I did not regard it as unusual.”
“Why?”
“We are guests within the Cloud Recesses,” Wei Ying replied. “It would not be strange for duties or instructions to separate us temporarily.”
“And after returning to your quarters?”
“I rested.”
The elder’s eyes sharpened slightly. “You slept.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I cannot say with certainty,” Wei Ying answered. “I was not watching the hour.”
“And afterward? Did you leave your quarters again?”
“No.”
“Did anyone visit you?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything unusual?”
“No.”
Silence followed.
It stretched deliberately through the hall, testing him.
Then another elder spoke.
“A witness places you outside your quarters after curfew.”
Wei Ying did not react immediately.
That restraint mattered. He knew it well enough.
Rather than answering at once, he considered the accusation carefully. Not its truth, but its purpose. Who benefited from it. What conclusion the elders wished to reach through it.
Only afterward did he speak.
“I see.”
“You deny the claim?”
Wei Ying raised his eyes again, calm and composed. “Yes.”
Nothing in his tone sharpened. He did not argue beyond what was necessary. Certainty alone carried the denial.
A Lan disciple stepped forward next. “A witness reports seeing someone in Jiang sect robes near the eastern corridor shortly before the attack.”
Wei Ying inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the statement without visible concern. “That may be true.”
Several expressions shifted.
“But such a description does not identify me specifically,” he continued evenly. “There are several Jiang disciples residing within the Cloud Recesses. At night, recognition becomes unreliable.”
“You are known for disregarding curfew,” another elder said sharply.
“That is true,” Wei Ying answered without hesitation. “But habit alone is not proof.”
The room tightened subtly around the exchange.
Wei Ying continued before anyone else could interrupt.
“The timing places this sighting shortly before the incident involving Lan Xichen.”
No one corrected him.
Good.
“And Jiang Wanyin was the final known person to meet with him.”
Attention sharpened throughout the hall.
Wei Ying’s voice remained even. “If I may ask, what was the nature of that meeting?”
“That is not your concern.”
“It may hold relevance,” Wei Ying replied calmly. “Particularly if I am expected to assist in clarifying the matter.”
The elder regarded him for a long moment before answering.
“…Jiang Wanyin requested a private audience. Permission was granted.”
“Privately?”
“Yes.”
Wei Ying’s fingers curled slightly within his sleeves where no one could see.
A private meeting without witnesses complicated matters immediately.
“Was there any known conflict beforehand?” he asked. “Between the Jiang and Lan sects, or between Jiang Wanyin and Young Master Lan Xichen personally?”
“No.”
“Then the cause of the altercation remains uncertain.”
Wei Ying lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Understood.”
And he did understand.
No established motive. A private audience. A violent outcome with no witnesses. Then testimony vague enough to cast suspicion broadly while guiding attention toward him all the same.
Too convenient.
Or perhaps merely careless in the wrong places.
Wei Ying lifted his gaze once more. “There is one matter I would like clarified.”
“Speak.”
“You stated that I was seen near the eastern corridor,” Wei Ying said. “Where did the incident itself occur?”
The question settled across the hall with immediate weight.
Not confrontational.
Exact.
“…The Hanshi,” the elder answered after a moment.
Wei Ying’s thoughts moved swiftly.
Distance between the eastern corridor and the Hanshi. Available routes through the Cloud Recesses. Time required to travel between them unnoticed.
Possible.
Though not efficient unless someone intended misdirection from the beginning.
His gaze lowered briefly, concealing the calculations forming beneath his composed expression.
“I see,” he murmured.
When he looked up again, calm attentiveness had already returned fully to his face.
“Then I have nothing further to add for now,” he said. “Should additional questions assist your investigation, I will answer them as best I can.”
Polite. Cooperative. Controlled.
Exactly what the head disciple of the Jiang Sect ought to be before a hall filled with elders.
Beneath that composure, however, Wei Ying remained exactly what he had always been.
Listening carefully.
Observing every reaction.
Adjusting with each new piece placed before him.
Because panic would not save anyone in the Jiang sect waiting behind these walls—and Wei Ying had never been foolish enough to believe that anyone in this room would protect them if he failed to do it first.