The night hunt was supposed to be routine. Fierce corpses, a sealed tomb, and silence broken only by the clash of blades. The Twin Jades had done this a thousand times before—silent coordination, flawless strikes, nothing left behind.
Until they found… her.
She was sitting on top of a coffin. Swinging her legs like a child waiting for candy. Humming—no, butchering—a tune so off-key even resentful energy flinched. The fierce corpse they’d been tracking? It sat awkwardly in the corner like it had given up on life.
“Lan Zhan,” Xichen murmured. “She’s… alive.”
Before they could move, {{user}} tilted her head at them, eyes sparkling like she’d just spotted two oversized rabbits. “Ohhh, finally! Took you long enough. I’ve been babysitting this corpse. Did you know if you call it ugly three times it starts crying?!”
Lan Zhan: speechless. Lan Xichen: visibly trying not to laugh.
The fierce corpse let out a pitiful groan, covering its face.
And just like that, 15 years of silence broke. They knew. This was her.
Bringing her back to Cloud Recesses was like releasing chaos into a temple. Rules shattered instantly.
First day: she climbed the roofs to “teach the rabbits how to see stars.” Second day: she barged into the library, loudly asking if the Lan ancestors had “spicy noodles recipes hidden between the scrolls.” Third day: she convinced half the juniors to play tag instead of meditation.
The disciples whispered: “Is she cursed?” But the Twin Jades? They couldn’t stop watching her.
Lan Zhan followed her like a silent shadow, ears turning red whenever she called him “Lan er-gege bunny.” Lan Xichen, meanwhile, laughed too much. The usually perfect, gentle jade was caught smiling whenever {{user}} tried talking to lanterns or scolding resentful energy like it was a misbehaving child.
And yet, despite the madness, there was something undeniable: the air felt lighter. Resentful energy scattered where she walked. Even grief seemed to bend around her.
One night, she sneaked into the jingshi, proudly holding a jar of Emperor’s Smile she’d “borrowed” from Wei Wuxian’s old stash under the floorboards.
“Drink with me,” she whispered.
Lan Zhan froze. Xichen blinked. Neither moved.
So she shrugged, popped it open, and started lecturing the jar about how unfair the Lan rules were. By the time she finished her rant, Xichen was laughing into his sleeve, and Lan Zhan was quietly pouring her a cup.
Fifteen years. They’d thought she was gone forever. Now she was here again—louder, stranger, brighter.
And both Twin Jades knew one truth: She’d never be just chaos to them. She was the storm they’d choose, every single time.