A/N: The two songs Lan Xichen plays here, in order, are Liebing and Qing Xin Yin from the Untamed OST. They can be found on YouTube.
Chapter summary: In which Xichen tries twice to stop a panic attack and finally explains the mess he's caught in to the only person in Valdemar he trusts.
7. Yin Metal
He hoped he was wrong. He could be wrong. He might be jumping to conclusions. There was no guarantee that the people of Valdemar even had the ability to bond to someone on a spiritual level like cultivators. Xichen was fairly certain that Valdemarans didn't, or perhaps couldn't, use spiritual energy at all. They were alive and thus had Qi, but they could not move it like marital artists and cultivators. Nor did they have golden cores and thus could not channel spiritual energy through their meridians.
If Herald Dirk couldn't feel Xichen's spiritual energy, then he probably didn't feel the resentful energy clinging to him either. Resentful energy clinging to a cultivator or artifact that could channel spiritual energy was bad enough. At least a cultivator could sense the resentful energy and potentially do something about it.
If resentful energy clung to someone who could neither sense nor use spiritual energy, then they were unlikely to be aware of and protect themselves from the detrimental effects. If left unchecked, resentful energy could kill. Even a cultivator could be killed by resentful energy. It might take time, but it did happen. The side effects were often subtle and insidious.
Mother.
Swallowing his doubts, Xichen focused on the problem at hand.
"Do you know Talia?" Xichen said, keeping his tone calm and mildly curious.
The ensuing blush answered that question just as effectively as the love, grief, loss, and pain tinged with resentful energy did. The love was heartfelt and pure and warm. Xichen didn't stop the soft smile from tugging at the corner of his lips. However, he glanced at Herald Skif and read the quiet guilt there.
"He hasn't been told yet, has he?" Xichen said in his own tongue with a sigh, ignoring the Heralds' confused expressions.
:Dirk is recovering from an illness,: Gala whispered. :It was close for a while there. Also, Herald Kris was his best friend.:
Ah. A delicate situation then, he thought, closing his eyes. Xichen sighed internally and considered his options. He passed Herald Kris's message to the Queen of Valdemar. Technically, he was not obligated to repeat the message to anyone else. He would be fully within his rights to send Herald Dirk into the tent and let them handle the situation. The Queen of Valdemar had given Herald Skif permission to tell Herald Dirk. If Herald Skif chose to hold his tongue, then who was Xichen to break the news? And yet…
Save her.
Herald Dirk couldn't be the one Herald Kris begged him to save. But perhaps he could help. The more local people Xichen had who were friendly towards him and willing to help him, the better. And considering Dirk's relationship to both Herald Kris and Herald Talia…
"What?" Herald Dirk said, eyeing Xichen cautiously as the silence lingered. "What happened? What aren't you telling me? What… Talia? Is it Talia?"
Xichen sighed in resignation. "Will you allow me to use my Gift on you, Herald Dirk?" he asked gently, before Herald Dirk's emotions could begin to spiral into panic.
For a moment, Dirk's expression froze. The fear within him began to coalesce, swelling like an infected sore. His soft brown eyes widened and his breathing hitched.
"Why?" the man countered, the word more air than sound.
Xichen closed his eyes briefly, then reached out and placed a hand on Dirk's wrist, pushing his influence onto the man. Herald Dirk was aware of Xichen's Empathy so there was nothing for him to hide and no reason for him to keep his actions subtle.
The pulse beneath his fingers slowed, the muscles lost their tension, the stress lining Dirk's dark eyes faded, and the feargriefpain began to ebb. Xichen didn't try to push it away completely, just ease it down to a manageable level. What Dirk was feeling was understandable and, if Xichen was correct in his suspicion, it was also expected. But too much of it was unhealthy.
"Do you love her?" Xichen asked, studying Herald Dirk's expression and emotions closely.
The briefest sparkle of spiritual energy flickered under Xichen's fingers, woven within Dirk's pulse, accompanied by a surge of lovedevotiongrief. Yet no words of denial or confirmation escaped his mouth.
"Is she your…" He hesitated, mulling over his native word and puzzling out the best translation. "Your soulmate?"
Confusion. But underneath the confusion, hidden deep within the Empathically soothed emotions, was the tiny, sparkling spiritual energy dancing around the confirmation Xichen sought. It was weak, tattered, and guttering like a candle at the end of a wick. And where the ragged ends fluttered, resentful energy sprang.
It was all he needed to know.
:The word we use is 'lifebond,': Gala explained softly. :I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you could sense it.:
I suspected. Xichen sighed as his Companion trotted up to stand behind him. Soulmates are bonded on a spiritual level. The bond resonates in their souls and golden cores. A broken soulbond, or lifebond as you call it, can drown a person's soul in despair. It kills them from the inside out.
"I am sorry," Xichen said aloud in Valdemaran, lifting his gaze and meeting Herald Dirk's eyes. "Herald Talia has been captured and Herald Kris has been killed by servants of Prince Ancar of Hardorn." He tightened his grip on Dirk's wrist when the man twitched in an aborted attempt to free himself. "Herald Talia is alive," Xichen said, backing his words with his Empathy. "I give you my word, she was alive when last I could check, though I do not know her condition."
The rising panic made Dirk's pulse throb beneath Xichen's fingers. With skill cultivated over years of night hunts gone unexpectedly awry, Xichen breathed and soothed the ragged edges of emotion that attempted to break free. He funneled some of his own spiritual power into Dirk's meridians through their contact as well.
Almost immediately, he had to bite back a wince. The Herald's meridians were… Well, they weren't in bad shape, but they certainly weren't used often, if at all. He could also feel where Herald Dirk had indeed recently recovered from illness. Based on the location of the compromised meridians, the illness was related to his lungs. Instinctively, Xichen throttled back his spiritual energy to not overwhelm Dirk's system, funneling just enough to boost his Empathy and aid in the healing process.
Dirk's dark eyes were wide and his breathing had quickened, but he wasn't hyperventilating nor was there a wildness to his gaze. The fear was pronounced and impossible to ignore, but it was no longer a driving force towards panic. Xichen offered the man a wan smile.
"She is alive, Herald Dirk," he said, emphasizing his words with another push of his Empathy. "Panic will do no one good, least of all yourself. If I release you, will you try to breathe and focus your thoughts?"
The man clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to take two deep breaths before nodding in quick, sharp movements. With obvious effort, Dirk's determination began to snuff the fear and dismay. Slowly, Xichen pulled his spiritual energy and Empathy back into himself, releasing Dirk's wrist when his influence was completely gone.
"Your Queen of Valdemar is already aware," he said gently, nodding to the tent. "I told her all I could. I am truly sorry, Herald Dirk."
It took a few seconds for Dirk to regain control of himself, though tears pooled in his eyes. He huffed a quiet sob, fell to his knees, covered his face in his hands, and wept. Xichen wished he knew the man well enough to offer him the comfort he obviously needed. As it was, Xichen was a visitor from another Clan and offering such comfort would likely not be welcome.
Still, he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try.
:I've called Ahrodie, Chosen,: Gala said, trotting up behind him and nudging his shoulder. :She's Herald Dirk's Companion. She'll be able to help handle it.:
Good, Xichen said, kneeling and placing a hand on Dirk's shoulder, kneading the muscles soothingly. Easing a tiny tendril of Empathy woven with spiritual power into Dirk through the contact, he offered what little comfort he could.
"Thanks," young Skif said quietly, resting a hand on Dirk's shoulder. "I didn't…" He scuffed a foot in the dirt. "I didn't know how to tell him."
"Zewu-jun!" a new voice called suddenly, breaking through the sadness and despair from both Herald Dirk and Herald Skif.
Turning to the voice, Xichen was somewhat surprised to see the Young Mistress- er, Princess Elspeth hurrying out of the queen's tent towards him. She was a pretty young woman with long auburn hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were a curious shade of violet that Xichen had never seen before. She held herself with the manner of a Clan Heir. She felt like an equal. She practically vibrated with curiosity as she came, slowing only when she noticed Dirk and Skif. Her curiosity faded to heartbreak as she came to a stop.
"Dirk…" she breathed.
Her voice cracked and her mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before her lips pressed shut and she closed her eyes. Tears poured down her cheeks and her fists clenched by her sides. She sniffed once, twice, then strode directly to Dirk, knelt by his side, and hugged him. She sobbed with him, loud and heartfelt and shameless.
It was not something Xichen was used to. The Lan Clan taught self-control. Cultivators regulated their emotions out of self-preservation and courtesy for others. Appearance and perception were important for all Clans. Even the Yunmeng Jiang and Qinghe Nie would be considered calm and collected compared to these Valdemarans. Well, he reconsidered thinking of Young Master Wei, Clan Heir Jiang, and A-Jue, perhaps not 'calm,' but definitely quiet. Sort of. From an Empathic standpoint anyway. Usually.
Cloud Recesses was always colorful when they visited.
But Valdemarans were so… open. They hid so very little from each other. It was… not bad, just different. Jarringly so. Did they not fear what others would do if their true thoughts and feelings were known?
:Are your home politics truly so vicious?: Gala wondered.
Worse. It was hard not to be wary when assassination was a very real threat. Horror leaked through their bond and Xichen bit back a grimace. Valdemar was so very peaceful and trusting. He prayed their political games never reached the scale of the inter-Clan relations he was familiar with. For their sake.
"Herald Skif!"
The youth still standing silently by Dirk's side stiffened in surprise. Xichen instinctively gripped Shuoyue tighter, pulling it just a tad closer to his side when he recognized the voice as belonging to the Queen of Valdemar's Weaponsmaster.
"Spread the word," Alberich said, his voice forming each word with care. "Pack up the camp. We must move back from the border."
"Yes sir!" Skif saluted, paused just long enough to pat Herald Dirk's back briefly, then disappeared between the tents.
"Zewu-jun."
With one final squeeze, Xichen withdrew his subtle influence from Herald Dirk and stood, facing the Weaponsmaster.
"Use your help, we could," Alberich said. "If you are willing."
The Weaponsmaster glanced down at where Herald Dirk and Princess Elspeth knelt and, though his face revealed nothing, Xichen could feel the sorrow there. But a moment later, the emotion was sequestered away and dark eyes returned to Xichen. Like a cultivator analyzing the wounded from a night hunt, acknowledging they could do nothing, and moving on to something they could do.
Xichen nodded. "I will do what I can," he said, moving closer to the man despite his misgivings. He kept his sword in a tight grip and pressed close to his side nevertheless. "Herald Dirk needs aid," Xichen added, lowering his voice. "He is bonded to the one Herald Talia. She may yet live, but the bond is either broken or tenuous. Do not leave him to his own devices."
Alberich's gaze sharpened accompanied by a spike of genuine concern and the return of the throbbing sorrow. Very little slipped past the man's control, however. Had Xichen not felt it or been looking for it, he might have missed the Weaponsmaster's tells. This was familiar.
Also, the man's way of speaking….
"Valdemaran is not your native language either, is it," Xichen said. "Your voice does not follow the same tonal pattern and accent as the others. It sounds more… rugged, I suppose. Like the face of a mountain compared to a rocky plain."
Alberich hesitated briefly before his expression eased. "You have good ears," he said, nodding. "I am from Karse. Valdemaran is my second language."
Karse. According to the maps Xichen saw in Haven, Karse was the country to the southeast of Valdemar.
"Would it be easier to speak in Karse?" Xichen offered.
Finally, the smallest hint of smile. "Next time, perhaps," Alberich said.
Moving the camp took longer than Xichen expected it to. Apparently, most of the people here were not martially trained and unused to moving on short notice. He supposed that made sense. They had come here on a diplomatic mission and had not expected an attack of any kind.
Still, the sheer number of civilians was surprising. The purpose of the venture was peaceful, true, but to be caught so unawares…
:I'm beginning to wonder how you trust anyone,: Gala grumbled in his mind as Xichen helped unload yet another wagon.
It helps knowing what they're feeling, Xichen admitted, picking up one of the crates, ignoring the surprise of the person working next to him, and carrying it over to the man waiting at the tent. I showed you my memories of Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. Every Clan has spies. We all know it, we just choose not to acknowledge it. As long as something is not admitted, it is considered a secret.
:That's…:
Xichen got the distinct impression of Gala swishing her tail in frustration and allowed himself a small grin of amusement.
It is tedious, true, but it is all I have ever known. It is normal to me. I've never questioned it. I've never even thought it could be different. I would like it to be, but that would require all Five Major Clans to trust each other. That, he sighed, is impossible.
:Yet you still try. That is very brave.:
Hardly. Xichen fed her memories of Wangji, Wei Wuxian, Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, and Nie Mingjue. With the exception of Wangji, they were all from other clans. Xichen trusted them. Perhaps not completely, but he trusted them more than most. Dealing with the Jin Clan was akin to walking barefoot through a field of stickle burs hidden beneath deceptively beautiful but deadly flowers.
The Wen Clan had proven themselves utterly untrustworthy. But even before their attack on Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen never trusted them. Wen Qing and Wen Qionglin were obviously spies planted by the Qishan Wens seeking the-
He stilled. Did… Did she know about… Should he tell her? Could he avoid telling her, was the real question. With their bond as deep as it was, could he really keep any secret from her?
:You can,: Gala said slowly. :But,: Xichen got the impression she was lowering her head, :I would rather you didn't. I trust you completely, Chosen. I love you. I always will. If you need me to keep a secret, I will. But…: she sighed, :you can keep secrets from me. Your thoughts are your own.:
So he could. But should he?
His homeland was nowhere near here. It wasn't on any map he'd seen, nor was his native language recognized by anyone he'd met. No one seemed remotely familiar with cultivation either. They didn't even know what a fierce corpse was, based on Gala's horrified shock from earlier. The chances of such an artifact making it way over here to this side of the world were extremely slim. Would telling them be of any use?
They did have resentful energy though, and no one capable of sensing it or doing anything about it.
Is there a place we can speak in private?
:Other than as we are now?: Gala asked curiously.
Xichen hummed. With his right hand, he plucked a crate from a struggling young man's hands. It was light enough to be held in one hand, so he grabbed a bag of what felt like food from the wagon with his other hand. Following the path back to the tent, Xichen considered his next thoughts carefully.
If they give me a place to sleep in private, come join me and we will speak. This is something best spoken of face to face, he thought finally. Xichen placed the bag on the ground first before handing the crate over to the man by the tent. If it's a shared space, then I'll come to you, Xichen finished, watching the man stagger briefly before grunting and hobbling inside with the crate. Understand, this is a secret from most of the Cultivation World as well. It hasn't been spoken of in hundreds of years. Until recently, most didn't even know it still existed.
Gala was silent as she considered Xichen's words. He left her alone as she did so. It was her decision to make. He doubted it would affect Valdemar in any way but, well, if Xichen could get here, then someone else could as well.
Four men struggled to push the wagon out of the way of several other wagons waiting to be unloaded.
"May I be of assistance?" Xichen offered, approaching the men.
"The more the merrier," a man with bright blonde hair like sunlight called, pausing to shoot Xichen a welcoming grin. He jerked his head towards the wagon. "We've got enough back here. Go help the boys up front pulling. We're taking it over to the clearing there," he nodded to a series of other wagons, some empty, some not, by a row of tents. "Hate to say it, but we might need them if we run out of room in the tents. Queen's not taking any chances. Healers get first dibs on what they need."
That certainly said a lot of the Queen of Valdemar's opinions on the situation.
:I'll see what I can do about getting you a private tent,: Gala spoke up as Xichen made his way to the front of the wagon.
He looped three fingers through the iron ring where a horse would have been harnessed to the wagon and pulled. The wagon came easily. Turning his back to the wagon, he tugged it along behind him towards the tents. He would have expected more resistance from the muddy ground, but the extra help from the other men probably canceled that out.
I would appreciate it, he said to his Companion, shifting the wagon's placement so it didn't block any tent entrances while remaining available. As I told your queen, some things I must keep secret.
He turned to ask the men if more assistance was needed when he blinked. He was alone by the wagon. Looking back where he'd come, the men stood staring at him as if he were a very odd fish walking on land. He could feel their amusement, confusion, and surprise from here and it confused him. He frowned curiously and received a laugh and head shake from the oldest man.
"Well that certainly did the trick," the man said, still chuckling. "Remind me not to arm wrestle you in the future."
…arm wrestle? Xichen's lips quirked up in a lopsided smile. He shook his own head in confused amusement. Who would have thought that particular favorite game of the Qinghe Nie would be popular here as well. Best to avoid that game, if at all possible. The Nie thought arm wrestling with a Lan was a fun game, especially when they were too drunk to think about their mistake. The night Nie Mingjue tried to arm wrestle Xichen had been, well, memorable to say the least.
He bit back the faint flush in his cheeks and deliberately turned his mind back to the present. The rest of the day was largely spent setting up the relocated camp. The tension permeated the atmosphere, added lines to the few smiles he saw, and a wariness to every eye. Xichen could feel some of that tension and distrust aimed at him whenever he came into view.
It made sense as he was likely the only person here that was unknown. His appearance alone raised a eyebrows and drew gazes. Honestly, he had trouble figuring out why anyone would willingly go around dressing in as little clothes as the people here did. They wore so few layers. It wasn't nearly as hot or humid here as it was back home during the summer months.
And they thought he dressed weird. He was only wearing three layers, much fewer than he normally did. But even in the mountains, summer could get hot. Also, the direct sunlight at the elevation of Cloud Recesses could be a problem. During the winter months, Lan Xichen regularly wore anywhere from six to eight layers. The snowfall and mountain breezes could steal precious body heat very effectively.
He allowed himself a small smile as he made his way to the edge of the hillside. There was so much to learn about the people of Valdemar. A part of him wanted to stay and learn and see, but his heart ached with the need to return home. Perhaps if he wasn't the Clan Heir…
He strode past the cluster of tents devoted to the healers, and hesitated. Closing his eyes, he focused on his Empathy and felt every speck of emotion in the vicinity. There were many. People came and went as the sun began to set. Some prepared food at the fires scattered across the camp at designated locations. Messengers and civilians rushed about with the final touches needed to secure the camp. And there, in one of the healing tents, flickered the ragged edges of a panic attack tinged with resentful energy.
Herald Dirk.
Xichen couldn't do much before, but he might have the chance to help now. He hadn't been asked to do anything for the camp in a while. He wouldn't be missed for the few short minutes it would take to play a quick song or two.
It was a simple matter to step out of the main walkway and slip between two tents. He isolated Herald Dirk's rising emotions and moved closer to the side of that particular tent. He drew Liebing from his belt, replacing it with his sheathed sword, and placed the cool jade spiritual tool to his lips.
Rest would help ease the resentful energy, but Xichen had a different song in mind. Two songs actually. Blowing into the xiao, his fingers picked out the first few notes of a song he wrote one night many years ago. The sky had been crystal clear, the moonlight so bright it cast shadows across the snow, and the silence seeming all-consuming. The hidden spring behind Cloud Recesses had a thin layer of ice covering its surface, glittering in the winter night. It was so thin, that a single touch from Xichen's finger had fractured it.
The resulting sound and scattering of moonlight had been so beautiful. Tiny cracks like delicate spiderwebs spread across the frozen surface, glistening like diamonds in the winter night. It was a memory Xichen cherished. So much so, that he had named Liebing after the spring's fractured ice and wrote this song to capture the spirit and emotion he'd felt that night.
The intent of the song resounded in the notes when he wove his spiritual power into the tune. Slowly, he reached out through his spiritual power, feeling Herald Dirk's panic through his Empathy. Weaving his Gift through his xiao, tying it to his spiritual power, Xichen played the song Liebing. As tenderly as he could, he fractured the pattern of spiraling emotions, buoyed the tiny flame of hope, and eased the sorrow.
Then, when his own song came to a close, he shifted the tune to Cleansing. Of all the individual songs in the Song of Clarity, Cleansing was the most powerful. It could also be the most adaptable. It could latch onto the tendrils of resentful energy, attacking them viciously, or it could sooth the ragged edges of a disturbed mind with the tenderness of a lover. Xichen played for both uses now.
As long as Xichen took care not to attack the source of the corruption, he wouldn't do Herald Dirk any harm. His soulmate was alive still. The bond may not be broken. It could just be fraying from distance and harm. There was hope yet.
It felt like played Cleansing for Nie Mingjue. Each time Xichen played for his own soulmate, it felt like this. Every ebb and flow of Baxia's rage leaking into A-Jue's spirit could be soothed away, cajoled into a tender slumber that would temporarily ease the strain. Xichen's deepest fear was the knowledge that one day in the future, his efforts wouldn't be enough and Mingjue would lose himself to his saber and leave Xichen alone.
He wondered what would've happened to his parents if someone had played Cleansing for them. Would they have separated? Would they have chosen to live out their lives in separate seclusions? Would his mother have eventually allowed herself to die? Would his fa- Qingheng-jun ever have spoken more than a single word to Xichen? Would Qingheng-jun ever have acknowledged Wangji? If the resentful energy from his parents' broken soul bond had been played away, would things have gone as they did?
Herald Dirk's bond was still new. It may not even be broken so much as denied or resisted. There was hope here where there was none for Xichen's mother and Qingheng-jun. If he could prevent his parents' fate from befalling someone else, even if it was someone he didn't know, then it was worth the effort.
Gala's mental presence nudged him softly, enough to get his attention but not enough to disturb his song. :Qingheng-jun. Is he your father?:
Yes. Xichen thought wearily. My mother killed someone, one of Qingheng-jun's teachers, and the Elders wished her to suffer the consequences. By marrying her and forcing them both into seclusion, Qingheng-jun protected her from any repercussions. No one in seclusion can be disturbed.
He felt his forehead crease as the painful memories spilled into his mind. He quickly sequestered them away to prevent them from leaking into his playing.
I could feel it sometimes, he admitted silently. The resentful energy around them the few times we were permitted to visit. It was never very much, negligible at best. But I could feel it when I got near them. It was infused with such intense pain and longing and a soul deep despair that…
It was worse after his mother's death. Qingheng-jun no longer allowed any visitors, not even his own sons. Walking passed his father's home was physically painful for Xichen. It always had been. A part of him mourned the father he never got to see, while another part of him breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure he would ever be ready to stand in a single room with Qingheng-jun surrounded by such oppressive emotions.
Mother's loneliness had always been tempered by her joy on the one day a month that Xichen and Wangji could see her. Her smiles were always bright and the love behind them sincere and warm. As a child, he had foolishly assumed she was lonely because she missed them. As an adult, he knew she was lonely for other reasons as well. She was a bird in a gilded cage, trapped and alone with her wings forever clipped.
It broke his heart.
It was that fate which Xichen strove to save Wangji from. Xichen's soulmate was a Clan Leader and thus forever out of his permanent reach. But Wangji was the second son and blessed with more freedom. And Young Master Wei was definitely freedom if the word ever deigned to take a mortal form.
Xichen prayed to Guanyin, the Lady of Mercy, that Herald Dirk's soulmate Talia accepted their bond and helped the man know freedom too. Xichen may never know that feeling except as the fleeting wings of a passing butterfly. But he would never stop wishing such a glorious feeling on others.
He played through his songs completely before he deemed his patient calm in mind and spirit. It wouldn't last, of course, but it would do for now. As long as Xichen could prevent Herald Dirk from doing something dangerous in desperation, he would consider it a success.
When the last note faded away on the breeze, Xichen withdrew his influence and moved to leave. However, a white equine head was peaking around the corner of the tent gazing at him with sparkling blue eyes. This Companion was older than Gala and its gaze was more calculating than hers too.
Still, a spirit was a spirit. Respect was always the best first choice when dealing with one.
Raising both arms, pressed the fingers of his hands together with Liebing, and bowed courteously. Straightening, Xichen tucked Liebing into his belt and drew Shuoyue free. The cool metal of its sheath was a welcoming sensation as he stepped around the spirit in the guise of a horse.
:Well aren't you a charmer.:
Xichen sighed as he rounded a corner near the edge of the camp to see Gala staring at him. One of her ears flicked and her eyes sparkled merrily.
"I assume Herald Dirk's Companion informed you," he said in his native tongue.
Gala tossed her head, pride and fond amusement trickling through their bond. :Oh Ahrodie didn't just tell me, Chosen. She told everyone. Well, all the Companions anyway,: Gala amended. As if that somehow made it better. :They'll probably tell their Heralds who'll spread the word. Although word of your musical skill was already a topic of discussion before Ahrodie said anything. People do tend to stop and listen to beautiful music. It isn't exactly subtle, Chosen.:
True. In this case at least.
"I suppose," he admitted, glancing at the small cloth tent pitched where Gala stood. "If you're here, can I assume this tent is mine?"
The Companon nodded. :They couldn't decide where to put you,: she said, shifting so Xichen could lift the tent flap. :It's on the small side, but they didn't have many alternatives. Also, I hope you don't mind being so close to edge of the hill.:
"I'm not trusted," Xichen said simply. "It is an understandable move. The guards stationed around the perimeter will report on any move I make. I expected nothing less."
:Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it,: Gala grumbled, lowering her head and easing herself into the small space. :Hmm, I hope you don't mind sharing.:
"With you? Never."
Giving her a warm smile, Xichen studied the bedding he'd been given. It was more akin to what he'd had to deal with on the few night hunts that went badly and there was no inn within easy reach. The mat was thin but at least there was a couple blankets and a pillow. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the bare dirt which was a relief.
What he would give for a bath and a set of clean clothes. Or a kettle and a teacup. He hadn't had a good cup of freshly brewed tea since Cloud Recesses.
Gala carefully lay on the ground on one side of the tent, the dirt hardly leaving a stain on her impossibly white coat. Lan Xichen rolled out his mat and sat down with a sigh, crossing his leg comfortably.
"Should I expect any visitors?" he asked.
:No, I don't believe so,: Gala said.
"Good."
Xichen drew a deep breath and pressed two fingers of his right hand together, igniting the tips with the signature blue glow of Lan spiritual power. Then, in one swift movement, he pointed his glowing fingers to the top of the tent. The blue glow darted up through the cloth, draping a dome of silence over his tent. When he felt the Spell settle into place, he swept his long sleeves over his thighs so they were out of the way and clasped his hands in his lap.
"We may speak freely now," he said, meeting Gala's gaze with his own. "We can hear the sounds beyond the barrier, but they cannot hear us." He glanced at the tent entrance where the flap hung loose over the opening, blocking out the fading evening light. "I do not know if your Mindspeech can be blocked by the Spell. But if it can't, I ask that you keep this conversation between us. Should you wish to pass along any information I tell you, I ask that you inform me before doing so. Is that agreeable?"
:It is,: the Companion replied gravely.
Xichen heaved a sigh and dropped his gaze habitually to his lap. He fervently wished he had a teapot to brew and pour himself a cup of tea to give his hands something to do and his mind something to think about other than the task at hand. It took more effort than he was willing to admit to keep the mask of First Jade of Lan from falling into place. His smiles were as much for his own defense as the defense of others.
"I have mentioned it in passing a couple times now, I believe," he began hesitantly. "You know some of what happened when I fled Cloud Recesses from the memories you saw. It is… a long and complicated story that goes back perhaps a thousand years. I cannot possibly tell it all because I do not know it all. But I will tell you want I can."
She held her silence but she nudged his knee with her nose and a blanket of trust, patience, and love enveloped him through their shared bond. It was almost too much. Xichen closed his eyes and centered himself, cycling his Qi through his meridians to give his mind something to focus on. It was either that or give in to the lump in his throat and the ache behind his eyes.
He wanted to go home.
"The Five Major Clans were formed a thousand years ago," he began, forcing himself to speak before he lost his self-control. "Before that, there were Sects, many of them. Each one unique and righteous in their own right."
:Religious Sects?: Gala asked curiously.
Xichen shook his head. "No. A Sect is a gathering of people from many walks of life who follow a common style of martial arts or cultivation methodology. Disciples of a Sect do not need to be related by blood and often aren't. They are bound by their philosophy, their martial arts, their cultivation style if they practice it, and their brotherhood. There are very few Sects still in existence today."
His smile faded. It truly was a tragedy that such a lifestyle had been lost. It whispered of a freedom Clan Heir Lan Xichen could never know.
"Then the Founders decided to create Clans, family-based organizations focused on cultivation methodologies and martial arts," Xichen continued. "These Clans became the Five Major Clans of today: my own Lan Clan of Gusu, the Nie Clan of Qinghe, the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng, the Jin Clan of Lanling, and the Wen Clan of Qishan. There are many other clans, but none with as much power, influence, territory, or financial backing as the Five Major Clans.
"Each clan has their own methodology for cultivation, style of martial arts, rules, punishments traditions, secrets, inheritance patterns, the list goes on." Xichen sighed. "Except for the annual conferences and a few night hunts, Clans very rarely interact with each other. We respect territory boundaries, deal with our own threats, and keep to our own. Historically, the Clans have only worked together during major troubles."
:Such as?:
Xichen thought for a moment. "Sometimes the earth shakes offshore creating waves as tall as small mountains that rush far inland, destroying everything in their wake. Sometimes the earthshakes are inland burying whole towns without a trace. Sometimes the fire mountains in the far north erupt raining black snow, poisoning the lungs, the water, the earth." He shook his head. "Sometimes the fire mountains in Qishan erupt liquid rock that flows like water but burns like fire beyond the Wen territory causing wildfires, burying homes, and killing with poisonous gases." He shrugged. "There have been many things throughout our history that have forced the Five Major Clans to work together to solve a problem."
Gala blinked at him, listening but also processing. He could feel her shocked disbelief through his Empathy as he felt her mind sift through the memories, paintings, and historical texts he'd read of such things. Lan Xichen had never witnessed most of what he had described himself. Most of the earthshakes he remembered hadn't been serious enough to draw in more than one other Clan's assistance and lava from the fire mountains of Qishan hadn't left the Wen territory in a couple hundred years. Large waves from offshore earthshakes were known to happen, but thankfully, they too had been relatively minor. At least in Gusu.
"The Gusu Lan Clan," Xichen spoke again, restraining his homesickness in a tight grip, "is based out of Cloud Recesses approximately seventy-two li outside of Caiyi and Emerald Lake."
:Li?:
"I believe it would be roughly the equivalent of a third of your miles," Xichen explained.
:Was Cloud Recesses a city or town then?:
Xichen shook his head. "No. It is… was a home. The entire Lan Clan lived there at least most of the year. Although some disciples chose to live elsewhere in branch facilities or travel the territory rather than settle down. If we needed anything, we could travel by foot or by sword to either Caiyi or the town of Gusu at the foot of the mountains."
:If Cloud Recesses was closer to Gusu, why use Caiyi as a point of reference?:
A crooked smile tugged at his lips as he answered. "Because Caiyi is the larger city. Gusu may be the seat of power in the Gusu territory, but Caiyi is the center of trade. A branch of the Yangtzi River flows through Caiyi, pooling into Emerald Lake before continuing to the sea." He huffed a laugh. "Also, Caiyi is the home to the Emperor's Smile which, I have on good authority, is one of the best alcoholic drinks in the land."
:I thought you don't drink,: Gala teased, her blue eyes twinkling in the fading light.
"Suffice it to say, I have broken a rule or two in my lifetime," Xichen said, an unrepentant smile on his face.
She laughed, her voice tinkling like bells in his head while her horsy avatar snorted and tossed its head. :That I would love to see,: she crowed.
"Perhaps not until I'm in a safe place where no one else can see," Xichen said, lifting a hand to cover his laughed with his sleeve. "Or Wangji. He's more adamant about the rules than I am. He'll keep me from doing anything too crazy. Hopefully."
That just sent Gala over the edge again. Xichen ended up burying his face in his hands as memory after memory of the lectures he'd received from Uncle Lan Qiren, the mess the morning after, and the new tears and dirt covering his clothes after one of his drinking escapades in Cloud Recesses played through his mind. He'd never drunk more than twice. The first time because he was curious, the second because he'd been duped into it by Nie Mingjue.
A-Jue couldn't look at him with a straight face for a good week after that. The laughter and smiles made up for the lectures and punishments. However, it did not mean Xichen was at all interested in drinking again. Nope. Not if he could avoid it.
He'd read about a method of possibly burning away the alcohol in his system using his golden core, but he was understandably not in a hurry to put the theory to the test.
When Gala's laughter had finally trailed off, Lan Xichen cleared his throat and replaced his hands delicately in his lap. Yes, he could still feel the heat in his tips of his ears and in his cheeks. Yes, he was going to ignore it with ever fiber of his being.
:It's adorable.:
That wasn't helping it go away.
:Who said I wanted it to go away?:
"You are making this very difficult."
:Possibly. Worth it though.:
Ancestors have mercy.
Lan Xichen clutched his hands together tighter in his lap, deliberately closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing. He could still feel her eyes on him and feel her regard through their bond, but his blush did begin to fade. Thank goodness.
"As I was saying," he began after clearing his throat once more, "the Clans keep to themselves. I don't think it was always that way, but that's the way it has been for at least two hundred years. Back when the Clans were new and relatively untested, something happened. The land was devastated, the ocean rose from its bed and devoured the shoreline, magic became unstable, and things… people… they changed."
All amusement vanished from Gala's presence. Her head lifted, her eyes studied him closely, and her ears were still and erect.
"Mages would reach for their power and find nothing, or burst into blue flames when they did manage to use their power, or their magic would backfire and take everything in the vicinity along with it."
Xichen remembered reading the descriptions of those events in the historical texts, some were firsthand accounts written by witnesses or survivors. It was horrific.
"The Dragon Lines and Vortexes the Mages relied on abruptly changed positions, drained away to a trickle, or doubled in power. They were soon no longer regarded as reliable or safe for use," Xichen continued. "But perhaps the worst part was the Demonic Arrays. They appeared across the land at random. Sometimes, nothing would happen save a geographical relocation from one point to another formerly on the opposite end of the continent. Other times…"
There were drawings. Xichen remembered staring at the artist's renderings of the horrific mess left behind from those dreadful Arrays. The accounts and drawings done by witnesses were preserved in the Gusu Lan's ancient texts, most of which were in one of the qiankun bags on his belt. They were made by people burdened by strong emotion, some of which lingered on today thanks to the Lan Clan's meticulous preservations. He remembered seeing the art, reading the words, and feeling the terror.
He swallowed and breathed.
"Other times, anything caught within the Demonic Arrays were changed." He couldn't look at Gala's eyes as he spoke. "They would become mixed up, as if a potter chose to stop molding a deer and decided to mold a human into the same clay. Sometimes what was left was dead, sometimes they weren't. If it lived, it usually didn't live for very long. Either it died of the pain or it was put to the sword. Death was considered a mercy.
"But they didn't stay dead. Or," he grimaced, "they would die, and their corpses would come back to kill, devour the living, and wreak havoc. Nowhere was spared. The Demonic Arrays would just appear at random. There was no warning, or pattern, or cause. They would just appear, change, alter, and destroy, then vanish leaving confusion, death, and fear in their wake.
"The Founders' Clans were still new and untested at the time. But they worked together to find a way to stop, or at least mitigate, the disasters of the Demonic Arrays. Through experimentation and trial and error, they discovered that cultivation was the only method of wielding energy that was unaffected by the chaotic magic, unreliable Dragon Lines, and unpredictable Demonic Arrays."
Xichen lifted his head and met Gala's gaze grimly. "So they adapted their Clan techniques and methodologies to fighting back against whatever was causing the chaos. Unfortunately, it was too late for the Mages. Those who were still alive were driven mad. Magic was deemed too dangerous to use and banned. Howver, one Mage, Xue Chonghai, desperately wanted his lost magic back and was willing to go to any lengths to do so.
"He went to the remains of many Demonic Arrays to examine what was left, be it living, dead, or inanimate. Whatever he found, he took back with him and studied. The Founders assumed he was either insane and useless, or he was a genius who could hopefully find the cause of the catastrophe. Either way, Xue Changhai was left to his own devices."
Ancestors, please let this be the right choice.
"Then, in one particular Demonic Array, Xue Chonghai found something worthwhile." Xichen drew up the memory of the Yin Metal and held it in his mind. "It was a metal unlike any found on earth before. It absorbed the energy and emotions of anything it stayed in constant, extended contact with. It adapted to its environment, changing its nature to best survive whatever it was exposed to, almost as if it was sentient. If left alone, it could even give life to stone.
"For over a century, Xue Chonghai gathered as much of the Yin Metal as he could and forged it into an amulet that-"
:A century?!: Gala gasped.
Startled, Xichen blinked and went over the words he'd spoken. "Yes. It took him about one hundred years to gather all the pieces of the Yin Metal," he confirmed. "It's believed that the Yin Metal was a rare biproduct of the Demonic Arrays, though what created it is still unknown."
:No, no. Your- Xue Chonghai. He lived for a hundred years?:
"I… No. He lived for roughly two hundred or so years. Two hundred and thirty-four if I remember right." Xichen frowned in confusion. "Why?"
Gala's sky blue eyes were wide. :Two hundred and thirty-four… He must have been a powerful Mage.:
Xichen shook his head. "I do not believe so, actually. Our records state he was a Mage, but he was also a cultivator. Perhaps his magic aided him in achieving longevity initially. But once his magic was gone, it stands to reason it was his cultivation alone that allowed him to continue living for as long as he did. He likely would have lived longer had he not been slain by Wen Mao, the Founder of the Qishan Wen Clan."
The Companion blinked. Lan Xichen wondered where her confusion stemmed from. Was two hundred truly such an old age?
:How old are you?:
Caught off guard by the odd question, Lan Xichen blurted, "Nineteen. Though I'll be twenty soon. Why?"
Gala studied him in silence for a moment. :And how old are you expected to live?:
"Oh. Well," Xichen tilted his head thoughtfully as he deliberated, "at the moment my cultivation would likely allow me to reach my third century with ease. The more I cultivate, the more powerful I will become and the longer I will live." The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. "Unless I too am slain, of course."
The silence from his Companion was disconcerting. His attempt at humor was perhaps a bit too dark. Clenching his hands in his lap, he squared his shoulders and returned to his explanation.
"As I said, Xue Chonghai forged the Yin Metal into an amulet which he hoped would aid his cultivation to immortality."
:…immortality…:
Ignoring Gala's dumbfounded whisper, Lan Xichen continued. "It did aid him, but not as well as he hoped. So he sought to utilize the chaotic power from the Demonic Arrays. He theorized that, if spiritual energy could counter the power of the Demonic Arrays, then resentful energy could be used to control the power of the Demonic Arrays. For this purpose, he created demonic cultivation."
"Demonic cultivation requires a great deal of resentful energy to sustain its use," Xichen said. "Resentful energy exists in nature as the natural counter to the spiritual world energy used in righteous cultivation. It exists where darker emotions, death, and pain are prevalent. So you can see why it was often found in and around the locations of the Demonic Arrays.
"But since the Demonic Arrays were unpredictable by their nature, Xue Chonghai needed to find a way to create a pool of resentful energy strong and constant enough to allow the Yin Metal to absorb it. He did that by capturing and sacrificing people."
Gala's ears flattened against her head and her nose dropped until it brushed the mat Xichen sat on. Her dismay and dawning dread flowed into his mind, but she held her silence. This wasn't history Xichen, or any of the Five Major Clans were proud of. There was a reason knowledge of it was buried. They had hoped to wipe all knowledge of the Yin Metal, its creation, and use from existence. The thinking was, if no one knew of it, then no one would think to use it.
They never considered the possibility of a Clan Leader turning on them and hunting the Yin Metal for his own use. After all, the greatest demon is often the one in the closet.
"Xue Chonghai started with regular people. Civilians, mediocre people with no golden core or cultivation to speak of," Xichen said. "A few here, a few there, travelers, merchants, people who no one would miss until they'd been gone too long. Brigands and thieves were common on the roads, especially at the time. People went missing frequently. It was often assumed that, if a loved one was never heard from again, they were dead. Either by brigands or Demonic Arrays and wild magic."
Xichen grimaced. "It wasn't until Xue Chonghai moved to hunting down and capturing rogue cultivators that people began to notice something was wrong, Rogue cultivators may not belong to a Sect or Clan, but they are rugged and often strong in their own right. They don't have the protection of numbers and the brotherhood of a Sect or Clan. They aren't easy to pin down, let alone capture.
"Nevertheless, Xue Chonghai managed it. No one knows how long he kept it up before eventually graduating to kidnapping Sect and Clan cultivators." Xichen heaved a regretful sigh. "Perhaps if our ancestors paid more attention, perhaps if they kept closer tabs on other cultivators, perhaps if the Demonic Arrays were not still appearing at the time, perhaps if magic had not gone awry…"
He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. "I can sit here and wonder and speculate and second guess until the sun rises, but I will never truly know. All I do know is that too many died. One death alone was too many. But the number of people Xue Chonghai sacrificed may never be known. It's assumed to be somewhere in the hundreds, maybe more."
He shook his head. "What matters is that, by sacrificing those people, by draining cultivators of their power, by stealing their souls and feeding them to the Yin Metal, allowing the Yin Metal to absorb the resentful energy, Xue Chonghai succeeded in corrupting it beyond saving. The Yin Metal was no longer a curiosity to be studied or revered. It was evil and needed to be destroyed."
:...souls...:
Lifting his head, Lan Xichen rolled his shoulders and kept his kept on his hands still resting in his lap. His fingers were grasping each other tight enough to turn the skin white.
"Wen Mao convinced the other Clan Founders, the Sects, and many others to join him in defeating Xue Chonghai. It took months. Countless lives were lost in the war, Sects were completely wiped out, the Clans were decimated, and the chaotic Demonic Arrays were still occurring, though less frequently. But eventually, Xue Chonghai was defeated by Wen Mao in what is now called the Burial Grounds.
"The Burial Grounds area is all that's left of the final battlefield," Xichen explained. "The land was ravaged by wild magic, Demonic Arrays, demonic cultivation, resentful energy, and the corpses of the fallen. The very earth itself is saturated with resentful energy. Bodies that fall there are said to be preserved by the resentful energy and turned into puppets that wander the land. No one who goes in ever comes out alive."
His hands clenched tighter. "Even after so long, the Burial Grounds are unsafe to tread. There have been attempts to cleanse it, though none have ever succeeded. It is a place mothers warn their children of. My people grow up with the knowledge that corpses will sometimes rise from the grave and walk among the living, monsters said to be descended from the monstrosities created by the Demonic Arrays of old feast on humans and animals alike, ghosts and spirits are a common enough problem, and possession is sometimes also a possibility. Yet all these things are common knowledge, common problems that, while feared, are not unknown. The Burial Grounds is the unknown."
Consciously, deliberately, Xichen relaxed his fearful grip on his fingers, massaging them to encourage the return of blood flow while he gave himself time to think and Gala time to process.
"Once Xue Chonghai was defeated and slain," he said after a minute of heavy silence, "the Yin Metal was broken into four pieces and spread across the land. Each piece was sealed away in a place of benevolent energy. The hope was that, over time, the constant exposure of benevolent, benign spiritual energy would alter the Yin Metal enough to change it to something else, something less terrible and corruptible.
"It didn't work. Centuries later, my ancestor Lan Yi broke the seal on the Yin Metal. She wanted to purify it faster and use it to help her people and be rid of the evil resentful energy and cleanse the Burial Grounds. She was warned not to try such a thing. That her efforts were not only wasted, they could spell disaster for the both the Cultivation World and the world at large. Even the immortal Baoshan Senren, who befriended my ancestor, came down from her mountain in person and pleaded with LAn Yi to return the Yin Metal to its sealed resting place and give up her dream."
He sighed sadly. "Lan Yi refused to listen to the warnings. When she did inevitably fail, she hid herself in a sacred place in Cloud Recesses, using her own cultivated spiritual power to seal herself and her piece of the Yin Metal away from the world. She managed it for several hundred years, until she faded away earlier this year."
A fond smile wormed its way onto his face despite his exhaustion and fear. "That's when the Yin Metal ultimately fell into my brother's hands," Xichen said, remembering the very amusing tale Young Master Wei spun.
Wangji never once interrupted or challenged Wei Wuxian's words and Wangji was known for not tolerating lies. Whatever happened in Lan Yi's cave made Wangji blush to the tips of his ears, but he never spoke a word about it. Not even two years later. Although Lan Xichen had his suspicions, he would never push. Well, he wouldn't push too hard, anyway.
"Soon after I sent Wangji away from Cloud Recesses on a mission with the Yin Metal, Wen Chao invaded my private home demanding I give him the very piece of Yin Metal my brother had. Two years ago, the Wens planted two spies in our midst. We knew of them and kept an eye on them, but they never did anything we considered to be a breach of trust. Thus, we let them be."
"We suspected they knew we had a piece of the Yin Metal," Xichen said, lifting his gaze to Gala's blue eyes, "but when Young Master Wen Chao came to my home late that night, he demanded I give him both pieces of the Yin Metal. Somehow, the truth had gotten muddled and the Wens believed my Clan held two pieces of the Yin Metal, not just the one." He shook his head in confusion. "I don't know why he believed that, but he did. Naturally, I refused to comply. He took my refusal as an insult and threatened my brother."
Dropping his gaze back to his hands, Xichen whispered, "Wangji is perhaps my greatest weakness. I love my little brother with all of my heart. I would do anything for him. He has done so much for me…"
Closing his eyes against the longing that clenched around his heart, Xichen continued speaking. "Wangji was still gone when Clan Heir Wen Xu invaded Clan Recesses, broke through our wards, and burned down our home with poisonous talismanic magic." He swallowed thickly. "He went to Qingheng-jun, my father, and demanded the Lan Clan hand over the second piece of the Yin Metal which we didn't have, and myself."
He pressed his thumb into his palm and rubbed circles there in a self-comforting motion. "Apparently, by refusing Wen Chao's demands when he rudely entered my home late at night, unannounced, and without permission, I had insulted him. The Wen Clan chose to take that personally and demanded I apologize and surrender myself for their punishment."
And like a coward, he fled instead.
"My uncle, Lan Qiren, decided to allow the Wens to continue to believe we had two pieces of the Yin Metal. I had planned for Lan Qiren to flee while I distracted Wen Xu. But I was overruled. Lan Qiren it the current Grandmaster and acting Clan Leader of the Lan Clan while Wingheng-jun remains in seclusion. He outranks me." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Uncle Qiren commanded me to gather what ancient texts and relics I could from the Library Pavilion and run in his stead. He would convince Wen Xu I had the other piece of the Yin Metal while he kept them busy. The idea was to draw Wen Xu away from Cloud Recesses and chase after me, leaving my people alone."
A familiar ache squeezed his heart. "It... didn't quite work as we hoped. Wen Xu burned the Library Pavilion down while I was still inside. I was trapped when the roof caved in. Had it not been for Shuoyue, I would have burned to death there." His sword hummed against his side. "My only solace," Xichen said softly, "is that Wangji was still away when Wen Xu attacked. If Wangji had been captured, I don't think I could have lived with myself." The tears he'd been trying so hard to keep at bay pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision.
"I should have stayed," he whispered. "Maybe if I'd surrendered myself instead, my uncle… my Clan wouldn't be… They wouldn't have been massacred like that." He swallowed, feeling the weight of the Lan Clan ribbon on his forehead. His self-control was fraying, but he couldn't let it break. Not now. Not here. He wasn't safe here, not really.
He would be home soon. As soon as he fulfilled his promise to Herald Kris' spirit, Xichen would go home. It was the lifeline he clung to now. There was nothing else he could do.
Night settled on the camp and Xichen felt his body beginning to lag. It must be close to curfew. Well it would be curfew if he was in Cloud Recesses. He wasn't. With a sigh, Xichen lowered the silencing barrier. When Gala did not leave, Xichen felt immensely grateful. He didn't want to be alone and she was infinitely more comfortable than a thin mat.
Xichen stripped off his outer robes, folded them, and placed them by the tent flap. He would try finding a place to wash himself and his clothes when he woke in the morning then start enchanting the sleeves to gain qiankun qualities. He removed his hairpiece, freed his hair from the topknot, and tugged the blankets around him like a cocoon. Shuoyue and Liebing lay on the dirt close enough to reach but far enough way to not dig into his side.
The pillow he held against his chest as he curled around it and leaned against Gala's side. He was in nothing but his underclothes and his forehead ribbon. He was ever so lonely and his mouth was dry from talking.
"I know what I told you is a lot," he whispered just loud enough for his Companion to hear. "I know it must be frightening and different and new." He placed a hand on her flank and rubbed his thumb against her moon white fur in soothing patterns. "Please know that I will protect you as best I can. If you truly wish to return home with me-"
:I do,: she insisted fervently.
He hid his smile in the blanket. "Then know I will protect you to the best of my ability. I may just be Clan Heir of a decimated Clan, but I give you my word. I ask nothing in return. Just please, don't fear us. We need help. We need friends we can trust now. Trust is such a rare treasure."
He tugged the blanket closer and clutched the pillow tightly against his chest. "If I can make the world just a little bit of a nicer place, even if I can only help one person, even if that person is just you or Wangji, then I'll try by best."
:Silly Chosen,: Gala whispered, mentally nudging him towards sleep. :You don't have to protect me. You've done enough. Let me protect you now.: Warm air ruffled his loose hair. :Protecting people we care for is never a burden.:
No. No it wasn't.