Fluffy WangXian Oneshots Book Two

The Favour Of Heaven Part 2

Lan Zhan flies for most of the night until he reaches Yiling in the early hours of the morning. He's tired, having expended a serious amount of spiritual energy on the way, so he knocks on the door of an inn, hoping someone will be awake to discuss hiring a room. There will be many opportunities to sleep under the stars in the days to come, and since sleeping on an actual bed will be a luxury soon, he should take advantage of the safety and comfort available to him now.

He's in luck and the inn keeper gives him a key. Once inside the room, Lan Zhan immediately changes into his sleeping robes and lies down, however, sleep does not come. He's too wired and tense, body on full alert, so he meditates while lying down. As each breath expands his lungs, he listens to the sounds around him. Chirping songbirds; larks and chaffinches are already awake to herald the day. He can hear the sounds of people working in the kitchen below, the distant clang of metal utensils stirring pots, and outside, those awake now calling greetings to each other as they pass by.

Lan Zhan has drawn the curtains but there's a tiny gap that he can see through if he turns his head. Dawn white-washes the skies bereft of clouds, the last of the glimmering stars melting into the light. Soon the sun will rise and Lan Zhan must begin his task.

He wonders where Wen Ruohan is, how far he might have gotten up in the Burial Mounds. Yiling is a bustling, busy place despite being so near such a desolate and bleak reminder of the past. So many people died up there and in such a difficult, barren place, left to the mercy of the elements. Unburied, no funeral rites performed, those souls becoming lost or their bodies turning into fierce corpses, that place changing into a hunting ground for demons and yaoguai and worse.

Though why an immortal would want to live up there is beyond him, unless they wanted to be undisturbed. Surely another mountain, any other mountain, would have made a better choice. It is amusing and a little frightening that the immortal chose the company of ghosts, demons and fierce corpses over human beings. Though thinking along these lines, Lan Zhan understands the preference. There have been many occasions when he's wondered if Bichen might be more suited to the conversation at hand, much to XiChen's opposite opinion.

Bichen would be faster.

Lan Zhan closes his eyes and sleeps to that comforting thought.

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A few hours later, Lan Zhan wakes feeling much refreshed. He splashes water on his face and neck and then goes downstairs. The inn keeper serves him lunch consisting of steamed buns, boiled vegetables and rice, and Lan Zhan is grateful for the possibly last hot meal before he sets off. From everything he's heard so far about the Burial Mounds, the inhospitable conditions aren't likely to allow Lan Zhan the comfort of lighting a fire.

The midday sun is already hot on his face as he steps outside the inn. Lan Zhan is not a religious man though he holds enough respect for the tradition. So when the thought arrives to pray to Guanyin for help, he goes along with it. Any help will be appreciated.

The market is alive with people milling about like ants, shouts of the street vendors jostling for attention, the sizzle of hot oil garnished with pungent onions and garlic, potential customers haggling for a bargain. So much activity, noise and smells hound Lan Zhan's senses and his feet are that much faster as he makes his way past jovial shoppers. His height, his stark white robes, and his glare (he's not glaring, his face is just like that), all serve to shift people out of his way automatically, and he's grateful for it.

Lan Zhan thinks he's passed all of that easily when he's barrelled into by a young man who promptly hides behind him, cowering and clutching his upper arms too tightly. Lan Zhan ignores his own discomfort at being touched by a stranger in favour of standing that little bit taller in order to protect the person at his back.