Nie Mingjue's laughter still rumbled in the rafters as Lan Xichen approached, his smile a masterclass in diplomacy. "Miss Wei's blade dances like winter's first frost – precise, lethal, breathtaking."
Wei Xuan inclined her head, the motion sharp enough to draw blood. "Flattery from the First Jade is its own reward." Her fingers brushed Baxia's fractured chestplate – seven hairline cracks over seven vital meridians.
The Unclean Realm's leader clapped her shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser cultivator. "When you visit Qinghe, I'll show you how we forge warriors!"
"Da-ge means he'll get you drunk on firewine and make you arm-wrestle corpses," Nie Huaisang stage-whispered, ducking his brother's retaliatory swipe.
Lan Wangji's voice cut through the camaraderie like a blade through silk. "Your technique lacks discipline."
The courtyard stilled. Wei Wuxian's grin turned feral. "Lan Zhan! Was that a compliment or an insult? Even your frostiness can't—"
"Observation."
Nie Huaisang's snicker died at his brother's glare.
——
Three days later, the chill in Orchid Hall had nothing to do with the season. Jiang Cheng's calligraphy brush snapped as Wei Wuxian's laughter danced around the pillars – too bright, too free, too unchained.
"Page 394," Lan Wangji intoned, freezing the disciples' whispers mid-syllable.
Wei Wuxian bounded to the front row with his characteristic spring-loaded gait, collapsing into the seat beside Lan Wangji. "Miss me, Lan-er-gege?"
The Second Jade's brushstroke didn't falter. "Silence is required."
"Required, not preferred." Wei Wuxian leaned closer, catching bergamot and glacial musk. "Admit it, you've grown fond of my—"
"Page. 394."
——
Dusk found them in the library pavilion, the setting sun painting Lan Wangji's cheekbones in molten gold. Wei Wuxian traced a talisman design across parchment, the charcoal smudging his fingertips black.
"Leaving." The word tasted of ash.
Lan Wangji's brush hovered over Analects 7:16. Ink bled through rice paper.
"Xunzhou needs its prodigal son." Wei Wuxian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "A-Xuan's drowning in merchant ledgers while I play scholar here."
"Duration?"
"Three years? Five?" A forced chuckle. "Maybe I'll open a talisman shop by the—"
The brush snapped.
Wei Wuxian stilled. Lan Wangji's knuckles whitened around the fractured bamboo.
"Huaisang's commissioned seven puzzle boxes," Wei Wuxian rushed to fill the silence. "Says they'll revolutionize—"
"Prefer his company?"
The question hung like a guqin string stretched to breaking.
Wei Wuxian's laugh rang hollow. "What, jealous?"
Moonlight through lattice windows carved them into chiaroscuro – light and shadow, restraint and chaos. Somewhere beyond the mountains, a night-hunting bell chimed.
Lan Wangji rose, snow-white robes swirling around ankles still dusted with Wei Wuxian's charcoal fingerprints. "The Cold Spring's medicinal properties may prove beneficial before your journey."
The invitation hung between them – fragile as a paper lantern in a typhoon.
Wei Wuxian's fingers brushed jade-cool knuckles. "Careful, Lan Zhan. People might think you'll miss me."
The frost patterns blooming across the library shelves said what the Second Jade's lips never would.