A/N: Ok. So I promised myself I wouldn't start another CQL/MDZS fanfic while I'm still working on my other one. But... I saw the tiktok linked below and was inspired. I couldn't not!. Credit for inspiring this fic and some of the dialogue goes to silveytea and her TikTok. I can't include the link because this site auto-removes those. The link is available in the A/N of this fic on AO3.


1. Deal

"Worship."

They bowed.

"Up."

The sat up.

"Worship."

They bowed.

"Up."

They sat up.

Over and over and over and over and over,

He should feel something. He knew he should. Mingjue was his older brother. He should feel something.

But he didn't. He was just… numb. His mind just kept going over the scene in his head. His brother's blazing eyes glowing the same red as Baxia's blade and darting around the courtyard, seeing things that weren't there. His brother's enraged shrieks and furious, wild strikes at the hallucinations only he could see and hear. The blood pouring from his brother's eyes, ears, and mouth as the Qi Deviation struck true.

His own voice crying, weeping, calling for his brother. His body struggling to reach Mingjue despite the blood, the fury, and the danger. Only san-ge's arms held him back. Jin Guangyao's voice full of tears and heartbreak, trying desperately to console Huaisang and keep him away from the dangerous aura Clan Leader Nie Mingjue exuded.

…Former Clan Leader.

Ancestors. Huaisang was the Clan Leader of the Qinghe Nie now.

That single realization looped around in his mind, repeating over and over like the commands to "worship." Neverending. Each time as dreadful and final as the one before.

Nie Mingjue, his big brother, his beloved older brother, was gone.

First it was Wei Wuxian.

Then it was Lan Wangji

Now, it was Nie Mingjue.

What would this unforgiving world steal from him next?

Nie Zonghui? Lan Xichen? Jin Guangyao? Jiang Cheng?

He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

Until he saw the book. That damning book.

Huaisang's mind functioned differently from his brother's. It was one of the reasons why he got along so well with Wei-xiong. Wei Wuxian was clever, brilliant, and a genius in so many things. He understood Huaisang better than most. It hadn't taken long for Wei-xiong to see through Huaisang's façade of a useless, artistic, gossip of a social butterfly and liked him anyway. That had been the moment Huaisang realized Wei-xiong was a true friend. Someone he could trust absolutely.

Finding out his dearest friend was dead, his body devoured by the very undead his cultivation controlled...

Huaisang shuddered, his mind shying away from the terrible thought. Wei Wuxian didn't deserve that. He'd only tried to do the right thing. He'd only ever tried to do the right thing, no matter what stood in his way, consequences be damned.

As damned as the evidence in that book.

Huaisang could play a flute. He was nowhere near as skillful as Wei-xiong had been or as Xichen-ge was, but he could carry a tune if he put his mind to it. The guqin was beyond him. The notes however… Especially the notes to Cleansing that Xichen-ge played for Mingjue when he could take a break from his Clan Leader duties to visit and that Guangyao-ge played when Xichen couldn't.

Guangyao-ge had taught Huaisang a small refrain of Cleansing before he and his brother left on that fatal journey to the Nie Clan's saber mausoleum. They'd left the Unclean Realm with twenty men. They'd returned with just one, Nie Zonghui. Huaisang had tried his best to save the others, to save his brother, to save Nie Zonghui. He'd played Cleansing so hard, pouring all of his spiritual power from his weak golden core into his music.

He'd only managed to save Mingjue and Nie Zonghui. Even then, it had been too close. The secret of what truly killed some of their fellow Nie Clansmen was something Huaisang and Nie Zonghui swore to take to their graves. Mingjue could never know.

Now he truly never would.

And it was all Jin Guangyao's fault.

The weasel had even used Huaisang to help him in his murderous plot. Seeing the notes for Cleansing in the book, the truth of the twisted melody, the hidden murderous notes which were the ultimate death knell for Nie Mingjue….

It made so much sense. Why Huaisang's playing had only barely stopped Mingjue's Qi Deviation driven rampage in the mausoleum. Why Mingjue only began having greater and greater outbursts when Jin Guangyao played Cleansing. Why Mingjue was always so much calmer, relaxed, and in control of himself when Xichen-ge came to visit and played Cleansing instead.

The notes, the notes Jin Guangyao taught Huaisang, were wrong.

Huaisang could see the deliberate pattern, the cruel design written in ink and notes and hear the murderous tune in his head. Somehow, Jin Guangyao had manipulated the song, twisting its true purpose inside out and driving Nie Mingjue to the Qi Deviation that would ultimately end his life.

Worse. They had no body to burn nor saber to entomb.

They hadn't been able to capture Mingjue before he'd jumped on Baxia's blade and flown away after the Qi Deviation. Xichen-ge had tried. Huaisang could see the devastation and heartbreak in Xichen-ge's face as he drew Shuoyue and flew after Mingjue, calling to him, pleading with him. When Xichen-ge finally turned up again, he'd been exhausted, drained of his spiritual power, and near catatonic in his grief.

Nie Mingjue's body and his saber Baxia were missing still.

Nie Huaisang would find them. He would find them and exact his revenge on Jin Guangyao in such a way that no one would ever know he was the one responsible.

He wasn't numb anymore.

He was furious.


Huaisang strode through the halls of the Unclean Realm towards the family shrine. He had a plan. He'd spent the past couple days researching, taking notes on every single event he could think of involving Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue, directly or indirectly, as far back as he could recall. Incidentally, he noticed how often those events involved Wei-xiong.

He just needed to gather a few more things to be absolutely sure of his actions before he took his plan to the only person he could trust to help him. He couldn't risk a messenger butterfly to Nie Zonghui to ask him to accompany him. This was too delicate a matter. It needed to be handled in person.

Nie Zonghui trusted Huaisang with his soul. The man may be Huaisang's cousin, the First Disciple of the Nie Clan, but Huaisang knew the man as "the brother from another mother" as Wei Wuxian used to say. Nie Zonghui was as much Huaisang's brother as Wei-xiong was to Jiang Cheng.

How blind Huaisang had been. To believe all the tales spun by Clan Leader Jiang Cheng and Wei-xiong. He'd suspected the truth at first, but now, the events leading up to Wei-xiong's death made him second guess everything.

Now he knew and he wasn't goin-

Weeping?

Who would be in the Nie Clan's family shrine weeping an hour past midnight? Nie Huaisang was understandable. No one would question his presence. But anyone else…

Cautiously, Huaisang slowed his footsteps, lifting his mourning white robes, and moving across the stone hallway as quietly as he could. When he reached the door, he peered through the crack between the door and the wall where dim, flickering candlelight filtered into the hallway.

The person inside was indeed weeping. Sobs wrenched themselves from the person's throat, sounding raw and broken and like the person was trying very hard to keep their voice down. They wore long robes of mourning white, although the style was different from the Nie Clan's. Black hair hung loose and free down the person's back and over their shoulders like ink spilled on the pristine snow. There was no topknot to be seen, no distinguishing jewelry or insignia or Clan colors.

Their hair and white robes draped across the pedestal where Nie Mingjue's name plate stood in prominance. One long fingered hand rested on the dark wood of the name plate, long nails barely brushing the gold lettering of Nie Mingjue's name. Fingers draped in a pale blue ribbon with a silver medallion inscribed with clouds. The medallion caught the guttering candlelight and flickered dimly in the family shrine.

Lan Xichen.

Huaisang leaned back against the stone wall of the hallway. He knew Lan Xichen cared about Nie Mingjue. Their romance might have been kept behind closed doors for obvious political reasons, but they were open with their affections. Well, as open as two Clan Leaders could be.

Nie Mingjue made no secret of his affection for Lan Xichen, verbally and otherwise. He was always excited when Xichen-ge arrived in Qinghe, would willingly listen to Xichen-ge play Cleansing -play it correctly- even if he would rather be doing something else, and would work to calm his temper with a single touch of Xichen-ge's musical fingers.

Lan Xichen cared.

Why else would he be in the Unclean Realm, alone, unannounced, in the middle of the night, his Lan Clan ribbon undone and reverently pressed to Nie Mingjue's name? He wasn't seeking attention or making a statement. He didn't want people to know he was here lamenting over his lost lover.

He didn't need to. Lan Xichen cared with all his heart and soul. Lan Xichen lost his little brother, his friend and brother's lover, and now his own lover. He cared, he loved, but he trusted too blindly. He was just as much a victim in this mess as Huaisang.

Quietly, carefully, Huaisang altered his plans slightly. Knowing what he now did now of Wei-xiong's "banishment" from the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, Huaisang began to understand a lot more about the Four Major Clans. Lan Xichen might indeed be completely oblivious to Jin Guangyao's plans. Huaisang knew how easy it was to blind oneself to the crimes and faults of someone you loved and cared about.

Although Xichen-ge still knowingly played a roll in Wei-xiong's death, it did leave some questions unanswered. Where were the Wen Clan remnants when the Four Major Clans laid siege to the Burial Grounds? Why had Lan Wangji been the only one there when the armies arrived? Unless….

Ah. Yes. That made sense. It seems Lan Xichen could be underhanded as well. If Huaisang's suspicions were correct, then he would have mercy and let Lan Xichen come out of this mess alive. If he was wrong…

Huaisang returned to his room and began setting things up for his plan. In the morning, if Xichen-ge stayed to officially greet Huaisang as the new Nie Clan Leader and officially pay his respects to Nie Mingjue's name, then Huaisang would stay. If Xichen-ge chose to leave just as quietly as he'd arrived, then Huaisang wouldn't push.

Either way, Nie Zonghui would need to be ready for the trip. Yiling was a fair distance, after all.


Lan Xichen did stay to officially greet Huaisang and offer his respects. He wore his mask of the First Jade of Lan with the ease of years of practice. There were no traces of the man who'd fallen apart in the quiet loneliness of the Nie Clan's family shrine.

Although, perhaps, Xichen-ge's eyes were a bit red around the edges. And perhaps, just perhaps, Xichen-ge's hands shook minutely when he bowed three times before Nie Mingjue's name plate. If they did though, Nie Huaisang would not call er-ga on the slip.


The wards here truly were impressive. Huaisang could sense spiritual power permeating the entire area. Wei-xiong was a genius. His Talismanic magic, wards, and spells were doing a better job of cleansing just this small section of the Burial Grounds then all the centuries of cultivators who'd come before him. And Wei-xiong wasn't alive to see it.

Huaisang whispered softly on the breeze, his hands dancing in a few quick somatic gestures that trailed golden threads like the finest threads of a spider's web. As delicately as he could, Huaisang meticulously unwound the complicated warding array just enough to let himself and Nie Zonghui through. The moment, Nie Zonghui cleared the ward, Huaisang released the spiritual power and it snapped back into place with a gentle hum than was felt more than heard. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end and his fingers twitched for his weapon. He may not be a skilled swordsman, but he would be an imbecile if he couldn't hold his own in a place as dangerous and deadly as this.

Besides, he flipped open his favorite fan, everyone expected swords. No one saw a fan as a threat.

Nevertheless, Nie Zonghui still instinctively reached up to grasp the hilt of one of his dual sabers, ready to draw and defend his lord at a moment's notice. Those instincts would keep them both alive in this godsforesaken place.

"It's alright," Huaisang said, tapping his cousin gently in the arm with his fan. "I know who set that up. Let it ring. I'm expecting a reply."

With obvious reluctance, Nie Zonghui withdrew his hands and followed Huaisang. Shoulder to shoulder, they followed the narrow pathway through the Burial Grounds towards the dense underbrush and into a thick cluster of trees. The trees were old, gnarled, and twisted with age and the influence of resentful energy.

But here and there were bursts of green where elsewhere was brown and mottled amber. The sky above was perfectly clear, yet the sunlight came through weak and dim, like the last warning to take cover before a storm. Crows cawed and spiraled through the air high above, just visible through the leaves and clusters of warding string and talismans.

This place made Huaisang's very bones cringe with the desire to runfleenow! But he wouldn't. He couldn't back down. Everything was finally ready. He had his plan, his had his cousin Nie Zonghui, and he would have so much more. He just needed to endure and patient.

Suddenly, leaves rustled and movement caught his eye. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared. But not before Huaisang caught the briefest glimpse of black and red at about the height of a child. He folded his fan and raised his arm, blocking Nie Zonghui from approaching the bush and neutralizing the perceived threat. It was hardly a threat. With any luck, it was exactly what Huaisang wanted.

Nothing else of note happened on the walk to Wei-xiong's former home. The trees grew more densely here and the branches entwined with one another forming a natural umbrella. It gave the impression of an enclosed space slowly, slowly beginning to engulf the wary traveler.

Then it abruptly cleared. There was nothing but bare earth where Huaisang knew Wei-xiong had fostered rows of plants. A hole that had once been a small, man-made pond lay dry with the burnt-out husks of dead lotus plants sticking out of it like the tongues of the silent dead. A wooden structure, dilapidated and scorched from fire creaked in the breeze, threatening to fall further into disarray. The remains of a cracked sign over the gaping entrance to the cave in the sheer rock face declared "Demon Subdue Palace" for all who could still read the faded words.

Dirty brown fog rolled across the ground, swirling around their feet as Huaisang and Nie Zonghui entered the clearing. This was all that was left of Wei-xiong's years of hard work, hoped, dreams, and spilt blood. Burnt out husks, broken structures, and the silence of the dead.

Or so someone wished them to believe. Huaisang was a master of illusions and masks. Puzzles and intrigue were what he lived for. This was an impressive ward. Huaisang couldn't even remember crossing its boundary. Impressive and subtle. Only one Clan had wards like these which meant this particular ward could only have be the work of one person.

Huaisang raised his arms, pressed his fingers still clasping his fan together, and bowed deeply. Nie Zonghui followed his lead a breath slower.

"I have news," he said as he straightened, never raising his voice beyond a simple conversational tone. Opening his fan, he brushed the deceptively soft edges of the paper against his chin. "My brother Nie Mingjue was assassinated."

As if waking from a dream, the fog cleared and sunlight fell on the small field between the trees and the sheer rock wall. What looked like turnips, some mint in a broken pot, and even one lone pepper plant sprouting from another broken pot were visible in the sunlight. Paper lanterns hung from the wooden structure that showed signs of being recently rebuilt.

And standing before the ancient stone steps leading to the freshly build Demon Subdue Palace, his robes as black as his hair, red ribbon and familiar silver medallion resting on his forehead, stood the Black Jade of Yiling, Lan Wangji. The man said nothing. He simply stood silent and unmoving, gazing at Huaisang and Nie Zonghui with cold, calculating gold eyes.

It was a look Huaisang recognized from his mirror. If the world dared take what mattered most to him, then why not take what mattered most from the world? That's what those eyes declared. Lan Wangji was probably the one person left alive who would be willing to go to lengths as extreme as Nie Huaisang to get back what they'd lost, or burn the ones responsible to ashes.

"Nie Huaisang, how did you get past the wards?" Lan Wangji asked finally, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the emotion that raged through his golden gaze.

"Their original creator left instructions for dispelling them," Huaisang replied, fanning himself with one hand while the other remained still by his side. His saber remained sheathed against his back. He would not draw it and make himself a threat. The saber was transport only, nothing more.

If possible, golden ice froze in a vicious glare that would have had the Huaisang of old seeking shelter behind Nie Zonghui, or Nie Mingjue. But not here, not now. There would be no masks here. Just the bare, honest, truth.

"You stole his work."

It was barely above a whisper, Lan Wangji's words barely audible even in the still air.

"I wondered how you did it," Huaisang said, changing the topic and ignoring the very real threat in front of him. He could feel Nie Zonghui's anxious energy at his back, refusing to move unless a weapon was drawn, trusting his Clan Leader to lead.

Huaisang would lead.

"When the Four Major Clans laid siege to the Burial Grounds," he said, "I wondered where the Wen Remnants had gone. After Wen Qionglin surrendered himself to the Jin Clan and Wei-xiong died, there shouldn't have been anyone else here. Wei-xiong certainly believed that if his actions at Nightless City were anything to go by."

Gold eyes burned in an impassive face. Bichen's sheathe glistened in the sunlight by Wangji's side where it was visible beneath the midnight black robes. Although the Black Jade made no attempt to draw it yet, he still could.

"And yet here you are," Huaisang continued, his heart hammering in his chest. "Alone in the very place the Four Major Clans burned to the ground, behind wards of both Wei-xiong's making and your own making." He tapped his chin with his fan. "Your wards are distinctly Lan Clan in style."

The hand clasping Bichen tightened subtly. Best get to the point.

"Nie Mingjue has been assassinated," Huaisang said, biting back the sting of tears as a wave of hurt, sorrow, and intense fury burned in his heart. "I have my suspicions as to the culprit, but I can't prove it." He met Lan Wangji's hard gaze with his own. "Not on my own."

Lan Wangji said nothing. But he didn't attack. He merely stood, listening.

"I want justice for my brother. We both want justice for Wei-xiong," Huaisang said, flipping his fan shut and resting it in his palm.

"Nie Mingjue's death has nothing to do with me," Lan Wangji said in a cold tone that brokered no argument.

"I believe the person responsible for my brother's death is also responsible for Wei-xiong's ultimate downfall as well as the deaths of many others," Huaisang said, speaking before Lan Wangji had fallen silent, mowing over the Black Jades words with his own.

For a moment, neither said a word. But Huaisang could see the ice begin to melt ever so slightly. Ah, good. Wei-xiong was still the chink in Lan Wangji's armor. Lan Wangji had been a force to be reckoned with back when he was still the Clan Heir and Second Jade of the Gusu Lan Clan. But as the Black Jade of Yiling, most of the limitations that held Lan Wangji back were thrown by the wayside.

Huaisang needed him.

"I know Lan Xichen has been helping you," Huaisang said, taking one step forward, silently daring Lan Wangji to do something about it. Behind him, Huaisang heard the faintest sound of a sharp inhale. "He never told me. I doubt he's told anyone, not even Nie Mingjue. I doubt my brother would have reacted well if he knew the Wen Remnants still lived."

Golden eyes narrowed and the tell-tale slide of metal on metal as Bichen slid partially from the sheath rang across the clearing. Nie Zonghui stepped up to stand by Huaisang's side, his hand touching Huaisang's elbow in quiet warning.

"I won't tell anyone either," Huaisang added, refusing to back down from the threat. "We both have something to lose if I did."

Lan Wangji didn't respond verbally. His inaction speaking louder than his words ever could.

"I have a plan," Huaisang said, holding his ground. "But to do it, I'll need a way to keep in contact with you. Someone we both trust not to betray us or our secrets. If I pull this off," Huaisang clenched his hand around his fan, feeling the blades along the ribs, "then the Cultivation World with be thrown into chaos. We'll have answers and we'll have our revenge. But only if we work together."

For a moment nothing happened. Then Bichen flew free of its sheath and hovered before Lan Wangji's face, the gleaming blade aimed for Huaisang's heart. Nie Zonghui moved to push Huaisang aside, but the new Nie Clan Leader would not be swayed. He held out his hand and stopped his cousin from moving to his defense.

He flicked a finger and a tiny, golden messenger butterfly materialized just long enough to flicker from behind Huaisang's blocking hand to Nie Zonghui's hand clutching Huaisang's silk robes.

Trust me, Zonghui-ge.

He could feel the reluctance in his cousin's tense muscles and hear the fear in the man's breathing, but he made no further moves. Huaisang had the advantage here.

"I can bring him back," Huaisang said, his voice carrying in the heavy silence.

He only saw the shock in Lan Wangji's eyes because he was looking for it.

"What do you mean by 'bring him back'?" Lan Wangji demanded.

"Wei-xiong was a master craftsman and an excellent researcher with an excellent memory," Huaisang said, deliberately stepping away from Nie Zonghui's protection and towards the Black Jade of Yiling. "He crafted his own spells, his own talismans, his own arrays. He even created the Yin Tiger Tally." With each sentence, he took one more step forward. This was a test of wills, and Clan Leader Nie Huaisang refused to lose. "He did it all by himself. Wei-xiong used resentful energy in his demonic cultivation. Ghosts, fierce corpses, spirits, they were all his area of expertise. He had mastery over death."

He stopped just shy of the tip of Bichen's blade, the razor edge hovering less than an inch from the bridge of his nose.

"In his notes, Wei-xiong wrote about an ancient blood ritual that could bring back someone's soul and place it into a willing body," Huaisang said, his voice steady and calm despite the death hovering before his face. His gaze never left Lan Wangji's. Just like Huaisang's saber, Bichen was a tool, nothing more. The Clan Leader of the Qinghe Nie was not about to let a mere tool keep him from avenging his dead brother.

"I can provide the willing the body, the tools for the ritual, and keep the secrets of the Wen Remnants you have hidden here and Lan Xichen's aid behind my teeth," Huaisang said. "All you need to do is be there when Wei-xiong comes back and protect him from anyone or anything that tries to kill him again. As a Clan Leader, I can't act openly for the same reasons Lan Xichen can't openly aid you. But I can help in other ways."

Bichen shivered once, reacting to its owner's internal turmoil. Lan Wangji's lips parted and his golden eyes were wide and full of so much hope it made Huaisang jealous. Bichen shivered again and Lan Wangji seemed on the knife edge of making a decision.

"If you're so sure the blood ritual will work," Lan Wangji whispered, not letting himself dare to believe in the possibility quite yet, "then why not use it to bring back your brother?"

Yes. Huaisang had considered that option. He'd considered it very carefully. Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn't. But even if it did, Huaisang doubted Nie Mingjue could figure out who was truly behind his assassination, why, how, and prove it in a way that no one would doubt his words. Mingjue had been clever, but puzzles were always Huaisang's area of expertise.

Besides, if Huaisang's suspicions were correct, then it was very likely Nie Mingjue couldn't be brought back.

"Several reasons," Huaisang replied. "First, a soul has to exist for the blood ritual to work and…" His composure broken and he had to fight to keep from opening his fan to hide his slip. He drew a breath and continued, "And I have my doubts that my brother's soul is still whole. Second, the spirit summoned by the ritual must be available to be summoned. Inner Clan members go through frequent soul calming rituals to prevent them from becoming ghouls or ghosts after death. My brother was no exception and, Qi Deviation, assassination, or natural death, those rituals would hold sway." He gripped his fan his shaking hands. "Wei-xiong never underwent those rituals. His soul would be free to wander."

"Not once," Lan Wangji murmured. "I have traveled all over this land playing Inquiry, looking for Wei Ying. Not once have I ever received a response."

"Which leads me to the third reason why I believe the blood ritual won't work for my brother, but will work for Wei-xiong," Huaisang said. "The spirit summoned must be viewed as a 'vicious spirit.'"

Anger burned behind Lan Wangji's golden eyes and Bichen stilled where it hovered in the air. Huaisang ignored it, with effort.

"My brother died horrifically," Huaisang said. "We have no body to burn nor sword to keep and his soul, if it is still whole, was placated by the numerous rituals he went through in life. Wei-xiong's body was destroyed, his sword and dizi are missing, and his soul is lost and free to wander. Now, from the view of someone unaware of what actually happened," Huaisang gripped his fan, "who would you believe was a 'vicious spirit'? Former Clan Leader Nie Mingjue or the Yiling Patriarch, Demonic Cultivator and Founder of the Yiling Wei Sect, Wei Wuxian?"

Pain, anger, hatred, and hurt flashed through Lan Wangji's eyes, lingering visibly on the pain. Bichen shivered once more.

"Will it work?"

It was a whisper so quiet, Huaisang almost missed it.

"It will," Huaisang said firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

Slowly, Bichen lowered and sheathed itself. Lan Wangji stood still, tears glistening in his eyes, though none escaped to his cheeks.

"What do you want in return?" he asked finally.

Huaisang stepped closer, well aware his head was now where Bichen's blade once was. "I want Wei-xiong alive. I want my friend back. I want my brother and Wei-xiong avenged. And I want the person responsible for their deaths to suffer."

Lan Wangji released a slow, trembling breath, no longer bothering to hide his pain. After a moment, he lowered his gaze, his lips moving soundlessly.

"Also," Huaisang admitted grudgingly, "once this is over, our vengeance is had, the person responsible is dead and suffering, and Wei-xiong is free and alive…" He swallowed thickly. "I need Wei-xiong's help."

Golden eyes immediately lifted and locked on Huaisang suspiciously. "For what?"

"It's a Nie Clan matter," Huaisang said slowly. "It won't take precedence until after everything else and only then. If our plan fails, then it'll be moot anyway."

The Black Jade of Yiling narrowed his eyes dangerously but he did not press the issue.

"And the secure way to contact me," Lan Wangji said. "Messenger butterflies don't always make it in or out of the Burial Grounds."

Huaisang was already shaking his head. "No. Messenger butterflies can be caught and their messages compromised. This will be a secure line of communication directly between you and me. Someone beyond reproach, someone trusted by us both to pass the message verbatim, someone no one would think to harm."

At Lan Wangji's curious gaze, Huaisang stepped back and turned to look back at where Nie Zonghui stood. His cousin shifted to a more comfortable stance, his eyes flickering disconcertingly between the two of them, but his hands remained by his sides and his dual sabers remained sheathed on his back.

Eventually, Lan Wangji nodded. "Deal."