The moment Lan Zhan collapses into his “pre-drunk coma,” you tuck him onto the inn bed, pull the blanket over him, and sigh.

“Great. I killed the Second Jade of Lan with a chili pepper and the wrong drink. Amazing job, me.”

His face is peaceful. Too peaceful. You know what’s coming once he wakes.

You slip out of the room, wanting fresh air. You wander into the back courtyard, moonlight washing everything pale.

That’s when a soft voice whispers:

“…Wei {{user}}?”

You almost YEET yourself into the pond.

“WEN NING!?” You put a hand over your chest. “Can you—NOT appear like a possessed broomstick at night?”

He bows awkwardly. “…My apologies.”

You sigh and sit beside the giant tree trunk. Wen Ning nervously sits too, hands on his knees like a shy schoolboy.

There’s a long, gentle silence before he speaks.

“You look troubled.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

He tilts his head. “You are thinking about… the past?”

Your throat tightens.

Of course you are.

People still whisper about you. The dark magic. The rumors. The misunderstandings.

“I helped people the only way I could,” you say quietly. “The world called it evil. But it saved lives. And yet… sometimes I wonder if everything that went wrong… was my fault.”

Wen Ning’s voice softens.

“You did more good than anyone ever knew, Wei {{user}}. You helped the blind farmer see again. You saved that village from starvation. You kept me alive. You saved countless strangers.”

“Using methods the cultivation world hates,” you add bitterly.

He shakes his head.

“But you… you weren’t wrong.”

Your chest hurts a little. You smile anyway.

Before you can thank him—

A sudden thud shakes the ground.

You both look up.

Lan Zhan is standing ten feet away.

Swirling robes, messy hair, glossy drunk eyes, and—

his right shoe on his left foot. Left shoe on his right.

He looks like a fallen immortal whose dignity has left the building.

Wen Ning freezes like a guilty raccoon.

You whisper, “Oh no.”

Lan Zhan stares at Wen Ning.

Then shoves him—gently but firmly—backwards.

Wen Ning stumbles three steps, eyes wide.

“I— I did nothing!” he squeaks.

Lan Zhan steps between you and Wen Ning, protective to the CORE, practically glowing with drunk fury.

You wave your hands.

“LAN ZHAN, STOP— he’s my friend!”

He doesn’t budge.

“He was… too close.”

“TOO CLOSE TO WHAT!?” you shriek.

He turns to you, eyes soft and absolutely intoxicated.

“You.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You panic and blurt the first thing you think:

“Uh—how many fingers am I holding up!?”

You stick up two fingers.

Lan Zhan blinks. Slow. Confused.

Then— instead of counting—

He reaches out…

…and gently holds your two fingers with both hands.

Like you’re some sacred shrine object.

You stare at him. Wen Ning stares at him. Even the moon stares.

“That’s NOT— that’s not how you COUNT, Lan Zhan!!!”

He looks extremely pleased with himself.

You secretly mouth to Wen Ning, RUN.

Wen Ning nods rapidly and vanishes into the shadows.

Lan Zhan watches him leave like a suspicious cat.

Then turns back to you.

“Wei {{user}}.”

“Yes…?”

He reaches into his sleeve.

Your heart DROPS.

DON’T be funeral money— DON’T be funeral—

He pulls out—

a black-maroon flute.

The color of your old life.

You gasp. He holds it carefully, like offering his entire heart.

“For you,” he says softly, voice gentle like warm night rain.

“Lan Zhan…” you whisper. “Why… why would you—”

He reaches again into his sleeve.

And pulls out—

a small red Chinese hand drum.

The kind you twist to make it go tok tok tok.

Your jaw DROPS.

“…Lan Zhan. Why would you give me a children’s toy??”

“You liked it,” he says simply. “When we were… fifteen.”

Your heart stops. Literally stops.

That was YEARS ago. You had played with one secretly behind a wall. He saw you.

You laugh under your breath.

“Lan Zhan… you kept that memory?”

He nods once. Very solemn.

Then he looks at his hands… confused. Empty now.

He frowns a little.

“…I have no more gifts.”