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Episode 1: “Lan-er-gege versus the Talisman”

Welcome back, friends! I’m Ouyang Zizhen, your friendly recapper, and this is the eighth season of The Cultivation World. What will MangoTV have in store for us this season? And can the show top that 3zun reveal in last season’s final episode??? I can’t imagine how it could, but this show has surprised me before …

Day 1, 5:37 a.m. Somewhere in the Wudang Mountains.

A shot of high peaks, silhouetted against the first pink edges of dawn. We get the standard intro voiceover as the rising sun slowly reveals a red watchtower buried in the deep green of the woods: “Seven cultivators, chosen to work together at a traditional Sect watchtower. They will face six weeks without modern conveniences, night hunts without access to cultivation technology, and—” blah, blah, blah. By the eighth season we all know the drill.

Time to meet this season’s cultivators! First to arrive—the time stamp says 5:48 a.m., so we’ve either got a keener or an early riser, or maybe both—is Lan Wangji. He’s 29, from Suzhou, and is an associate professor at Changshu Institute of Cultivation. Yes, he’s the younger brother of last season’s Lan Xichen, and yes they could basically be twins, which means: Lan Wangji is hot. Very hot. I mean, he’s actually kind of icy seeming but you know what I mean! Anyway, he’s already dressed in delicate blue robes, with his long hair pulled back in a braid and a slender white cloud-pattern ribbon tied around his forehead. Since the inside of the watchtower is still dark when he goes in, he holds up a handful of glowing spiritual energy to light his way. I hereby dub him Hanguang-jun.

“I hope that my participation in the show can educate viewers about the benefits of a traditional cultivation practice,” he says, laying out a guqin and a sword in the room he’s chosen. “I find that musical cultivation, in particular, has become something of a lost art.” Then he sits down on the floor and begins to meditate. We can safely assume Lan Wangji is not one of those people who comes on this show hoping for a paid vacation.

The next two cultivators arrive at the same time. First is Wen Qing, 31, from Chongqing, who specializes in medical cultivation: she flashes a set of ominous-looking silver needles and grins at the camera. She’s gorgeous, with a sharp little angled bob and pointy chin and huge eyes.

“I run a clinic in Chongqing,” she says. “It’s very urban. We get a lot of qi deviations, big city curses, patients who aren’t sure if their nightmares are from overwork or a haunting. I thought this might be a chance to expand my skills.”

The other arrival is Luo Qingyang, 34, from Shijiazhuang, Assistant Bureau Chief at the Hebei Bureau of Cultivation. She was a disciple with the Lanling Jin when she was young, she says, but she’s been unaffiliated for the last decade.

“I’ve got a kid now,” she says, shrugging. “I don’t want Mianmian exposed to that sort of bullshit, you know?” Wow! There’s a story there. I mean, obviously there’s a story there, but we don’t get anything more than that. (Anyone who remembers Jin Zixun from Season 3 can probably guess what sort of bullshit she’s talking about, though.) Anyway, she’s here because she wants to show that you don’t need to be a disciple at one of the big Sects to make it in a cultivation career. Also, Mianmian wanted to see her mother on television.

Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang join Lan Wangji inside; he’s acquainted with Luo Qingyang already (the cultivation community is really small, as I realize every time I go on CultiDate), and all three of them seem competent and no-nonsense. I expect they’ll all get along well.

Next to arrive is Lan Jingyi—again, a distant cousin of Lan Wangji’s—who is 21, from Shanghai, and a student at Fudan University. He makes his entrance by doing a backflip off his sword, and seems disappointed when he realizes no-one’s around to see it.

“Yeah, I’m here to learn,” he says. He has long hair pulled up in a messy bun, and a curve to his mouth that makes him seem like he’s constantly on the verge of making a snarky comment. “My shifu says I rely too much on cultivation technology, you know? That I need to get back to basics.” He leans in close to the camera. “I mean, don’t tell Shifu I said this, but he’s totally right. Last time my phone died, I tried to draw a transportation array without WoDeZhouzhen and got stuck in a loop between my house and West Nanjing Road Station for three days.”

He heads inside, where it becomes immediately apparent that he is a Hanguang-jun fanboy. He corners Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang in the storeroom, where they’re cataloguing the watchtower’s store of supplies—everything from cinnabar to rice—and starts to tell them stories about “how great Lan-zhangbei is. You guys, he’s really amazing?”

Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing are both struggling to keep from laughing at his enthusiasm, but when the camera cuts to Lan Wangji in the traditional kitchen, he has the fire going in the pit stove and is cooking what appears to be a veggie stir-fry in one wok and rice in the other. Everything looks immaculate and I can practically smell the food through the screen, so it seems like Lan Jingyi might know what he’s talking about.

Lunch is a quiet affair—Lan Wangji follows the traditional Gusu Lan rule of “silence while eating,” and the others seem to have agreed to follow suit—and it’s not until a few hours later that we get our next arrival: this season’s youngest cultivator, Jin Ling, 18, from Qingdao. He was just a baby—well, a kid, at least—when Luo Qingyang left the Lanling Jin Sect, so we’ll assume he wasn’t the cause of any of the bullshit, but he seems to have a typical Jin attitude.

“This place is so old and creepy. And this room is really small,” he says, looking with sulky displeasure at the sparsely-furnished room he’s been assigned. Yes, Jin Ling. It is old. That’s the point of all this. He runs a finger over the low table beside the bed and sneers at the dust he scrapes off. “This watchtower was abandoned 314 years ago” — that’s oddly specific — “and I don’t think anyone’s dusted it since then. Gross.”

His motivations for coming on the show remain a mystery, since he doesn’t seem interested in explaining himself, but his unpacking reveals that he’s brought approximately four hundred spirit nets with him. At least those might be useful.

So, you know how every year there’s that one cultivator on this show who you wouldn’t want to get stuck with for six minutes, let alone six weeks? Well, this season, I’m betting that cultivator is Su She, age 27, from Wuxi, who works in “cultivation processes” at an industrial design company, whatever that means. It’s not even that he does anything objectionable when he arrives, really—it’s just a vibe I get from him.

“I think you’ll find we practice a similar style of musical cultivation,” he says, pompous, when he greets Lan Wangji. (It seems like Su She knows Lan Wangji, but not vice versa? Also, he stares at Lan Wangji—whose only response to this is a flat “Mn”—with an expression that makes me think he’s either jealous of Lan Wangji, or has a crush on him. Maybe both!)

Later, while he unpacks his own guqin, Su She talks about his experience attending Cloud Recesses, the Gusu Lan cultivation academy, in his youth. “They have a reputation for excellence, but I found the instruction uninspiring,” he says. “I have developed my own techniques, which I think go beyond what the Gusu Lan traditions have to offer. One of my reasons for coming here is to share that innovation with the world.” It’s similar to the sentiment expressed by Luo Qingyang, so why does it seem so much more annoying when Su She says it?

By nightfall, the final cultivator still hasn’t arrived, so Hanguang-jun puts up wards at the watchtower gates, and everyone heads to bed.

Day 1, 10:57 p.m. Outside the watchtower gates.

Arriving with the moonlight is Wei Wuxian, 28, from Wuhan, Head Instructor at Yunmeng Jiang Archery School. “It’s a long walk up from the bus stop,” he says, as if that explains why he’s late. He doesn’t seem to have a sword with him, so maybe it actually does explain something? Weird. Like Lan Wangji, he’s very hot, but with a totally different vibe: ripped jeans, hoodie, army boots, casually disheveled. His hair is scraped back into a short ponytail, revealing a single onyx stud in one ear.

(Okay, so let’s get this out of the way now, since everyone is thinking it: yes, this is that Wei Wuxian, the subject of all those rumours swirling in the cultivation community. I’ve heard a lot of different things but the gist of it is that after that enormous fire at Lotus Pier—which was allegedly arson? Involving a certain cultivation clan with ties to organized crime?—he disappeared for a while, and a lot of people thought he was dead. Then he reappeared about a year ago, and after that a certain cultivation clan got a lot quieter and everyone started saying that Wei Wuxian of the Yunmeng Jiang was too friendly with the dead. More specifically: people say he cultivates with resentful energy.)

He discovers the ward on the gate. “Wards are made to be broken,” he mutters, and pulls out a talisman from the pocket of his hoodie. It produces a handful of sparkly butterflies that somehow temporarily disperse the ward, allowing him to slip through. I’m just going to screenshot that talisman for future use, hold on—

“I guess I shouldn’t go in if everyone’s sleeping,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ve been told I can be kind of loud. And, honestly, I’ve slept in way worse places than a roof beneath a full moon.”

He leaps up to the roof of one of the outbuildings and settles in on the tiles, producing a pot of wine out of his hoodie pocket. (It must be a qiankun pocket, because that hoodie is skintight.) A time-lapse montage shows him drinking, and then drinking more, and then more again. A second pot of wine comes out, and then he digs around in the pocket and starts to pull out other stuff, which mostly seems to consist of branded Yunmeng Jiang Archery School merchandise—qiankun quivers, vambraces, etc.

After he finishes that, he starts to talk to the camera: “It wasn’t really my idea to go on this show,” he says. (He doesn’t say whose idea it was, but between the archery gear and the purple lotus logo on his hoodie, I think we can guess that someone wanted Wei Wuxian on this show for advertising purposes. YJAS has had a rough time these last few years; first there was the car accident that killed Jiang Fengmian and seriously injured his wife and daughter, and then the big fire.) “And I’ve got a bit of an unorthodox cultivation style”—Wei Wuxian laughs, but his voice sounds almost sad—“so hopefully no-one here’s a stickler for doing things the old-fashioned way.”

Just as he says this, our Hanguang-jun, champion of the benefits of traditional cultivation and follower of old-fashioned rules, lands on the roof. Oh, clever. I see where you’re going with this, show!

“Did you break the ward to come in?” Lan Wangji asks, point-blank. He has his sword out and pointed at Wei Wuxian, no bothering with niceties like hello I’m Lan Wangji, and you are?

Wei Wuxian eyes the sword, but doesn’t react. He keeps lazing back on the roof, casually drinking his wine, as if this is the usual way he meets new people. (And maybe it is! I don’t know your life, Wei Wuxian!)

“Of course I did,” he says. “Did you think I was going to stay outside the gate until morning?”

“You were late,” Lan Wangji replies, and reading between the lines, he absolutely did expect that the latecomer would wait on the steps by the gate until sunrise.

“Yeah, well. I had to go back for some stuff I forgot,” Wei Wuxian says. When he gestures to the YJAS gear on the roof, recognition dawns on Lan Wangji’s face.

“You are Wei Wuxian.” It’s not a question. “I have heard many things about you.”

“Oh? My reputation precedes me!” (Imagine this said with the world’s fakest good cheer.) “All good things, I hope?”

“I would not say it is a good thing to be known as the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation?” Lan Wangji says, coldly. This time, when the camera cuts to Wei Wuxian, the expression on his face is definitely bitter.

“The title’s not entirely accurate,” he says, tossing back another gulp of wine. A little of it sloshes over his lips, runs down his chin. “Founder of the Ghostly Path is closer, I think. It’s good to be precise about these things, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, and Wei Wuxian gives him a once-over before nodding to himself. “White forehead ribbon, bit of a stick-in-the-mud … Lan Wangji, right? The younger of the Twin Jades. Huh! I thought the reports of your beauty might be overstated, but I can see they’re not.” He pauses to hiccup, then laughs, a little blurry. “A beautiful man joins me on a rooftop beneath the full moon … aren’t you worried I’ll get the wrong idea, Lan-er-gege?”

“You are drunk,” Lan Wangji says. His expression doesn’t change, but somehow he manages to look angry anyway.

“Not quite,” Wei Wuxian says, mournful. “I could be, though, if you brought me another pot of wine …” he wiggles the pot in Lan Wangji’s direction. This is too much for Lan Wangji: he smacks the pot out of Wei Wuxian’s hand with the tip of his sword. It bounces away and off the roof.

“Aiya!” Wei Wuxian leaps to his feet. “There was still wine in there! Lan Wangji, you owe me a pot of Emperor’s Smile.” He glances down and notices the sword is pointed at him again. “Ah, er-gege, good idea! I do love a midnight duel.”

There’s a great shot of them squaring off in the moonlight: Lan Wangji, perfect posture and pale robes and shining sword, versus Wei Wuxian, listing slightly to one side, half-drunk, empty-handed. Then Lan Wangji steps forward, the point of his sword coming up, and Wei Ying reaches for his hip and finds—well, not a sword, that’s for sure. There’s nothing but a black dizi hanging from the belt loop on his jeans. He pivots out of range, quicker on his feet than I would be after half that amount of wine.

“Ah, forget it,” he says, lightly. “Duelling is against the rules, right? Wouldn’t want to tempt the venerable Lan Wangji to break the rules on the first night.”

With that, he descends from the roof, stalking off to who-knows-where and leaving Lan Wangji alone with the pile of Yunmeng Jiang archery gear. After a moment, Lan Wangji sheathes his sword, and we get an incredible close-up of his face, looking—well, his expression still hasn’t changed, so I’m going to guess and say conflicted. (Also, I swear he doesn’t have any pores. Drop your skin care routine, king!) Then he descends from the roof, picks up the fallen wine pot, and disappears in the other direction.

Wow. That was an introduction! Calling it now: this season ends with these two engaged to be married. I know some of you are laughing at me for that suggestion, and sure I’m a romantic that predicts cultivator pair-ups every season (shoutout to 3zun for going above and beyond!), but having seen the rest of the episode, I think my victory is all but assured …

Day 2, 5:15 a.m.

Confirmed: Lan Wangji rises early. He’s joined in the still-dark courtyard by Lan Jingyi, where they’re going to do handstand meditation. “I don’t normally get up this early,” Lan Jingyi whispers to the camera. “I can’t embarrass my shifu in front of Lan-zhangbei, though, so I guess this is when I get up for the next five weeks?” Halfway through the session, Lan Jingyi topples out of his handstand with an enormous crash. Lan Wangji pauses in his own meditation, inspects Lan Jingyi, and—having determined that he’s simply fallen asleep—returns to his own practice without once altering his expression. Please, Hanguang-jun, have mercy on me, you’re too cute.

The other cultivators wake at slightly more reasonable hours, each of them donning their robes before coming in to partake of the congee Lan Wangji has cooked up in the kitchen. The exception is Wei Wuxian, who by 10:45 still hasn’t made an appearance. Lan Wangji mentions to the others that Wei Wuxian has, in fact, arrived at the watchtower, blandly describing the whole rooftop thing by saying, “We met and spoke briefly last night.” For some reason he doesn’t mention the undeniable sexual tension that crackled between them.

We get three rapid-fire reactions to the revelation that the final cultivator is Wei Wuxian:

• Wen Qing sighs, rubs at her face, and says “ … we’re acquainted, yes.”
• “I understand that Wei Wuxian practices demonic cultivation,” Su She says, disapproving. (I guess he missed the memo on ‘ghostly path’ versus ‘demonic cultivation.’) “Is that the quality of cultivator they allow on this show? I can’t imagine Lan Wangji finds such behaviour acceptable.”
• Jin Ling, looking extremely sullen, mutters: “So he’s my uncle, so what? I have a lot of uncles. He’s the most annoying one, anyhow.”

Leaving Wei Wuxian to his beauty sleep, Lan Wangji gathers everyone else in a dusty central courtyard, where one lonely wild persimmon tree leans against the back wall. He announces that he wishes to organize an “exchange of skills.” Essentially, he wants everyone to make a presentation about some aspect of their cultivation, “so that we can learn from each others’ strengths.” Tian ah, that’s my worst nightmare. Public speaking? Sharing my skills with others? Very little prep time? Please picture me shuddering in front of my computer right now. The only thing I could give a presentation on with almost no preparation would be Zizhen’s Ultimate Ranking of Webnovel Ships, and somehow I don’t think that’s what Hanguang-jun is looking for.

Anyway! This group are made of sterner stuff than this humble one, because they all nod their agreement. Wen Qing goes first, talking about antidotes for poisons that can be cobbled together from common woodland plants (fuck, she’s so cool), while Luo Qingyang draws on her experience with her husband to explain how to talk about cultivation with non-cultivators. (This is super useful information for anyone who’s ever had to tell their third cousin in Xi’an what a “night hunt” is and been faced with seventeen follow-up questions like so, wait, they’re not always at night?)

Lan Jingyi then describes—and demonstrates!—his trick sword-riding. I thought Hanguang-jun might disapprove, but he asks a series of questions about the uses of Lan Jingyi’s inverted “hanging” stance (where he hooks one knee over the sword and rides upside-down) and then compliments his form, so apparently not?

When it’s Lan Wangji’s turn, he brings out his guqin (also named Wangji!) and demonstrates a little musical cultivation. He plays a bit from Sound of Vanquish, a battle song that exorcises evil, and then from the Song of Clarity, which suppresses hostile energy and calms the mind. Su She interrupts him, ostensibly to ask a question, but actually it’s more of a comment: he starts describing, in lecturing tones, an adaptation he’s discovered for the Song of Clarity which reverses its effects, causing disturbances to the target’s temperament.

“Why would you want to do that?” Lan Wangji asks, genuinely confused.

“Well—you—if you wanted to …” Su She sputters, then trails off, seemingly at a loss to explain why it might be useful to agitate the mind and stoke hostile energy in his fellow cultivators. He looks disappointed at Lan Wangji’s reaction, too. Or maybe angry? Or both. Su She’s feelings about Lan Wangji seem complex.

Lan Wangji returns to his demo, moving on to a description of Inquiry, a song that can be used to communicate with the spirits of the dead. “The spirits cannot lie to me,” he explains. “Traditionally, we begin by asking the spirit to identify itself—”

“Very cool,” a voice says, and the camera cuts to show Wei Wuxian leaning against the courtyard wall, dressed in a set of crimson under-robes. (A later shot reveals that he’s wearing black basketball shorts underneath. Scandalous!) He doesn’t look hungover, but he does look tired; he’s got a bowl of half-eaten congee in one hand. “I’m glad to hear that the Lan clan doesn’t object to communicating with the dead. I’d heard they did.”

After a heated glance at the state of Wei Wuxian’s robes—and maybe some people would interpret that as an angry look, but I am certain that it was in fact a horny look—Lan Wangji says, “We do not object to communicating with the dead.” The emphasis is clear.

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, and laughs, but there’s no humour in it. He seems on the verge of saying something more, then hesitates and shakes his head. It’s the sort of brow-furrowed, pursed-lip head shake you do when you’re trying to pull yourself out of the grip of some strong emotion. “This is a little plain for my tastes,” he says, finally, holding up the bowl. “Any chili oil around here?”

“No. You are free to make some of your own, of course.”

“Too bad. I’m not really much of a cook.” Wei Wuxian hitches a shoulder at the guqin. “So? Is this place haunted?”

“We have been doing demonstrations of our skills.” The which you would know, if you had woken before noon goes unspoken, but Hanguang-jun can say a lot with very little. “Perhaps you would like to do yours later, however. I expect you will require some preparation time.”

“Oh, no need to worry about me, Lan-er-gege! I’m ready to go,” Wei Wuxian fires back. He puts the bowl of congee down and walks over to a spot in front of the other five. “It’s your lucky day, actually! I don’t share my personal talisman designs with just anyone.”

Now, when I did talismans in school it was just the same spirit-repelling talismans over and over, so I went into this with pretty low expectations. Wei Wuxian, though, turns out to have an entire arsenal of amazing talismans up his sleeves that are totally new to me (and, judging from the reactions, everyone in that courtyard). In addition to the butterflies he used to break the wards, there’s a talisman that looks for spiritual anomalies and lights them up, and another that causes a small explosion. “It’s best as a distraction, you aren’t really going to injure someone with it,” Wei Wuxian says, but when he fires three of them at the courtyard wall the resulting bang knocks half the persimmons off the tree and leaves char marks on the stone.

Another talisman, which Wei Wuxian says is a work in progress, ties the caster to their target with a strand of turquoise energy, and keeps them within six chi of each other.

(“I don’t know what to call it,” he says, tossing out the talisman so that it coils around Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Binding? Bonding?”

“Boring,” Lan Wangji says, slicing it off with his sword. He may say that, but he’s been watching all of this with an expression I would describe as extremely interested, in spite of himself—I’m getting better at reading him, I think—and he discreetly pockets one of Wei Wuxian’s extra butterfly talismans, so take from that what you will.)

The last talisman Wei Wuxian demonstrates can temporarily freeze a monster or demon or even a human in place. “The effect varies depending on the strength of the target,” he explains, enthused. Now that he’s warmed to his subject, he seems almost like a different person. It’s kind of like he was wearing sarcasm and alcohol as armour, and now it’s fallen away to reveal that he’s just a guy who really, really, really likes talismans. “Let’s start with you, Lan Jingyi—it’s Lan Jingyi, right? You run at me from across the courtyard and see how long it takes you to get moving again.”

The talisman stops Lan Jingyi—he goes from a full-tilt run to totally still as soon as the talisman hits—for twenty seconds, according to a countdown clock in one corner of the screen.

“Alright,” Wei Wuxian says, with a smirk, as the now-moving Lan Jingyi rubs at his legs to get the blood flowing again. “Your turn, Lan-er-gege.”

“Do not call me that,” Lan Wangji snaps, flat.

“Well … how about this for a deal,” Wei Wuxian says, waving the talisman’s messy cinnabar strokes in Lan Wangji’s direction. “I promise not to call you er-gege anymore if you can break through the talisman in five seconds or less.”

“Gambling is forbidden by the Gusu Lan rules.”

“Don’t think of it as gambling. It’s a competition: Lan-er-gege versus the talisman.” (There’s the episode title, for those of you at home playing the traditional drinking game!)

“Five seconds? Impossible,” Lan Jingyi whispers, to Jin Ling, and I don’t know if Lan Wangji heard him or not, but he stands, dusts off his (immaculate, dust-free) robes, crosses to the other side of the courtyard, and begins to run.

Wei Wuxian waits. And waits, and waits, and waits — and then, when Lan Wangji is no more than a stride away from him, hits him with the talisman.

Lan Wangji freezes—gracefully, of course, with one foot suspended off the ground—and Wei Wuxian starts to count, his grey eyes glued to Lan Wangji’s unblinking gold. Suddenly it’s like there’s no-one else in the courtyard, a crackling energy tying them together as surely as the Binding (Bonding?) talisman did.

“Yi,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding like his throat is very dry. He swallows, audibly. “Er.” Lan Wangji’s fingertips start to twitch, and Wei Wuxian’s voice drops to a whisper. “San— ”

The talisman’s hold breaks, and Lan Wangji stumbles into Wei Wuxian’s arms.

For a long moment they stay like that, like someone’s hit them with another freezing talisman: chest-to-chest, lips almost touching, Wei Wuxian staring up into Lan Wangji’s eyes. I genuinely can’t tell if they’re going to kiss or start wrestling. Based on the poleaxed look on Wei Wuxian’s face, he’s not sure either.

“Three seconds,” he finally says, softly, still not moving. His hand is on the small of Lan Wangji’s back. Am I imagining this?!? (I’m not.) “Very impressive. I thought I might hold you for longer than that.” Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything. He appears to be staring at Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Still,” Wei Wuxian adds, with a shaky little laugh. “Three seconds is long enough for me to take you out in a duel, I think.”

At that, Lan Wangji very carefully steps back, one fist returning to its customary place behind his back. He turns to stare at one of the walls of the courtyard, as if there’s nothing in the world more fascinating than the construction techniques used in Ming Dynasty watchtowers. The tips of his ears are bright pink. “It would be not be sporting,” he says, clearing his throat. “If you were to use this talisman in a duel.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, also blushing. “But I’ve never been very good at following the rules, Lan-er—”

“You can’t call him that anymore,” Lan Jingyi objects. “He did it in three seconds.”

You can see the exact moment that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian remember that five other people—strangers, mostly—have witnessed … whatever that was. A prelude to a kiss? Seduction-by-talisman? An untold number of viewers’ gay awakening? (I cannot believe any of that just happened. Whenever I need a hit of serotonin I’m just going to come and replay that ten seconds over and over and over again. Thank you for my life, Cultivation World.)

“Ah, no! I suppose I can’t, can I? What should I call you, then?” Wei Wuxian manages, but Lan Wangji has already turned on his heel, scooped up his guqin, and left the courtyard. Wei Wuxian looks over at the others, mutters, “Uh. Right. Well, class dismissed,” and takes off just as hastily in the opposite direction.

Jin Ling and Su She have very different reactions to being let off the hook for their presentations. A relieved Jin Ling tells Lan Jingyi that he “was probably going to do some archery, or something,” while Su She complains to anyone who’ll listen—a list which is extremely short, perhaps nonexistent—that he didn’t get to demonstrate his adaptation to a musical cultivation technique called Evocation. If it was anything like the adaptation you described for Song of Clarity, Su She, it’s probably for the best that we didn’t get to see it.

Day 3, 10:35 p.m.

The final scene of the episode is Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi, lying on Lan Jingyi’s bed. They seem to have bonded over their status as the junior members of the watchtower crew. “What do you think you’ll miss most while you’re here?” Lan Jingyi asks.

“My mother’s soup,” Jin Ling blurts out. He then immediately backtracks, launching into a monologue about his car, which is apparently tricked out with all sorts of cultivation upgrades. It’s too late, though—we already know the truth. I like him better already. “What about you,” he mutters, when he runs out of things to say about his Slyphy. (Do we think Nissan paid for the product placement?) “What are you going to miss?”

“Nothing,” Lan Jingyi says, promptly, and then—as if suddenly imagining Lan Wangji’s flat, disapproving stare—“haha, okay, lying is forbidden, so … I’m definitely going to miss my Lan juniors group chat.” He turns to the camera. “Hi guys! Miss you! Sizhui, don’t forget to feed the rabbits, okay?”

Good advice, Lan Jingyi! Let’s all go make sure we’ve fed our rabbits, and meet back here next week for Episode 2!

Episode 2: “Go Where the Chaos Is”

Days 5-8.

We begin this episode with a Cultivation World classic, the montage of cultivators struggling with pre-modern life! First, there’s Lan Jingyi, who gets the sleeves of his white robes in his congee at breakfast, his hotpot at lunch, and—I don’t know how this is possible—Luo Qingyang’s zhajiang mian at dinner.

“I like to wear a t-shirt and jeans, you know?” he sighs, as he pulls another noodle out of the qiankun sleeve. “And this is so much fabric and there are so many things to put it in or catch it on …”

In the watchtower library—Lan Wangji, in the background of the shot, appears to be cataloguing its contents, although many of the books look like they’re long past legibility—Luo Qingyang laments the state of her knowledge about the world. “I like to think I know a lot, about a lot of things,” she says, pulling another disintegrating scroll down from one of the high shelves. “I thought, oh, I answer Mianmian’s questions about things all the time, right? But it turns out I don’t know anything! I’ve just got the Internet.”

Wei Wuxian, looking like he just woke up, stares in dismay at the options in the kitchen: a head of cabbage, a jar of rice, radishes, some spring onions, eggs, a bowl of raw tofu, bean curd. “I need delivery. Where’s Meituan when you need it?” he moans. “I really want regan mian. Or doupi. Or—I want to open a fridge and find leftovers and a jar of chili oil … I just don’t have the energy to cook when I get out of bed, you know? Or when I’m drinking. Or ever, really.”

He pulls out a blank talisman paper and a stick of cinnabar and tips his head to one side, considering. “Okay, so, I actually came up with that explosion talisman when I was trying to create a heat-maintenance talisman for a bath,” he explains, as he starts to scribble. “The theory of temperature transference was sound, though, so maybe if I …”

There’s a shot of a bowl filled with dry rice, water, an uncooked egg, chopped greens, and sliced radishes. Wei Wuxian, standing on the other side of the room, aims a talisman at the bowl, and then—

Cut to Lan Jingyi, Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji, practicing sword forms in the courtyard, when there’s an enormous explosion from the kitchen. “I’m fine!” Wei Wuxian yells. “I’m fine. The food’s a total loss, but I’m fine, nobody worry about me …”

“Oh, man, Wei-qianbei is so cool,” Lan Jingyi says. “He told me he’s designing a compass that can track evil spirits. Isn’t that awesome?” (Our Hanguang-jun fanboy’s allegiances may be shifting! And it seems that at least one member of the group isn’t bothered by the whole ‘demonic cultivator’ thing.)

“Such an item would be very useful, Jingyi,” Lan Wangji agrees, just as grey smoke starts to billow out of the kitchen. “If, of course, he can complete it.”

Day 9, 2:14 p.m.

Su She is also struggling, but not with adapting to a life of traditional cultivation. No, Su She—who is currently in the woods near the outbuildings, pretending to meditate—is struggling to adapt to life with Wei Wuxian. (I know he’s pretending because he keeps opening one eye and looking around to see if anyone is watching, and then, when Lan Wangji glides along the path without a glance in his direction, he gives up entirely.)

“This has been going on all morning,” he grumbles, after a series of loud explosions from a nearby outbuilding. “At this rate, his little experiments will bring the whole watchtower down on us.” Another bang, and something that looks a little like a firework blooms in the gentian sky: a lotus, worked in strands of purple lightning. A moment later, muffled voices are audible—

“You have had some success, then?” Lan Wangji asks, as the camera momentarily cuts to the area behind the nearby outbuilding. (He’s being quite formal, but this is a big change from their first meeting, at least!)

“It still needs some fine-tuning,” Wei Wuxian says, holding a small tube out for Lan Wangji’s inspection. “But it’s a reusable, talisman-powered signal flare, and it should be good for maybe … three hundred uses? So—”

Back in the trees, Su She is eating vinegar. “And for some reason Lan Wangji just puts up with it,” he seethes. “Puts up with him! This morning I pointed out to him that Wei Wuxian is a demonic cultivator and he just nodded, as if that was normal or acceptable …”

He’s not the only one with a Wei Wuxian problem, either. We get a series of shots of Wei Wuxian offering to help Jin Ling with things, and Jin Ling angrily refusing assistance. The sequence ends with Wei Wuxian saying “If you dropped your back shoulder down a bit you’d have more strength on the draw,” when he finds Jin Ling shooting in the courtyard. Jin Ling immediately brings his back shoulder up and fires towards the persimmon tree. The camera tracks the arrow: it skitters off the trunk and lands harmlessly in the dirt. Jin Ling drops the bow and mutters something that sounds like why don’t you go hang out with your ghost friends, I hear they like you, just loud enough for Wei Wuxian to hear.  

“He’s not even that much older than me!” Jin Ling fumes, now in his room. “What does he know? He doesn’t even use a sword. And I’ve been shooting since before I could walk! Jiujiu already gives me lessons! If Wei Wuxian tells me how to draw a talisman or string a bow or identify the difference between demons and imps one more time, I’m going to fucking stab him.”

Back in the courtyard, Wei Wuxian picks up another bow, nocks an arrow. “Hands down, straight forearm, open shoulder,” he says, softly. “And then …” he takes careful aim. “Release.” The arrow splits one of the few remaining persimmons in half. (That poor tree isn’t going to survive its encounter with these cultivators.)

“Yunmeng Jiang Archery School, folks!” Wei Wuxian says, but his heart’s not in it. He glances towards the door where Jin Ling disappeared. “It’s just … he was born when I was 10—my jiejie had him at 18, right? And for the last few years I haven’t been around very much. Things have been—difficult. A long story. And A-jie says the kids at school were on him about being the nephew of the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. So he just —” he swallows, and for a moment there’s this look on his face, like he’s lost something he didn’t know he even had to lose — “he has lots of reasons not to like me, I guess. I’m trying. I’m …”

He trails off, picks the bow up, and begins to shoot again.

Day 10, 1:45 p.m.

In the library, Lan Wangji is reading, while Wei Wuxian pursues a hobby I call “trying to get a rise out of Lan Wangji.” He does an ink-brush portrait of Lan Wangji with a flower in his hair: no reaction. He comes over and drapes himself over the chair beside Lan Wangji and asks him a series of questions about his life, and then, when Lan Wangji doesn’t respond, answers them himself, in character as Lan Wangji (“Do not worry. Silence is simply how I demonstrate affection”): no reaction. He tells a hair-raising story about an encounter he had with a crowd of fire-breathing e gui at Mansion KTV (we only hear part of it, but I’m actually not sure how he survived?): no reaction.

“What should I call you, if I don’t call you Lan-er-gege?” he asks, giving up. “Lan-laoshi? Lao Lan? Just gege? Ji-xiong, maybe?”

Lan Wangij does react to this, by hitting Wei Wuxian with a Lan clan silencing spell. Despite the fact that he can’t open his mouth, Wei Wuxian looks pleased. (It seems like Wei Wuxian has decided he’ll deal with their sexual tension by teasing Lan Wangji, whereas Lan Wangji’s tactic—for now, at least—seems to be attempting to ignore it and Wei Wuxian. If I might make a suggestion, friends? You could consider giving into it …)

As soon as the spell wears off—about 20 minutes later, according to the caption—Wei Wuxian leaps right back into the name discussion. “Okay, I know: you could call me Wei Ying! That’s my milk name. What’s yours?”

“And why would I tell you that?” Lan Wangji asks, lifting his eyes from the book. (It’s a Ming Dynasty text, if the thread binding is any indication, dealing with some sort of forbidden form of musical cultivation.)

“Because I’ll be quiet if you do,” Wei Wuxian says, kind of breathily.

“No need,” Lan Wangji says, and hits him with another silencing spell.

Day 10, 6:15 p.m.

It’s the group’s first night hunt! Only Lan Jingyi, Lan Wangji, Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing are participating, since Lan Wangji judges it unnecessary to take the entire crew to deal what he deems to be “a small disturbance.”

Wen Qing is sitting in a house in one of the small rural villages in the hills below the watchtower, inspecting a wound on a man’s thigh. It’s long and shallow, but the edges are dark, angry-looking. Apparently we’re still on the theme of cultivators struggling to adapt, because Wen Qing is muttering, “The question is: infected, or cursed?” to herself as she presses on the edges of the wound. The wounded man makes a face. Either he’s unimpressed with Wen Qing’s bedside manner, or he’s gritting his teeth in pain. “Back home I have a diagnostic machine to tell me! Not to mention pre-fab antidotes …”

There’s a shrill yowl outside the house, and then Lan Jingyi sticks his head in through the door. “Lan-zhangbei says to tell you that the answer is cursed. Okay, gotta go, I’ve got a bunch of maogui trying to put their claws in my butt …”

Day 12, 3:35 p.m.

We find Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian in the overgrown garden behind the watchtower kitchen, robes hiked up, knees in the dirt. They’re weeding (Wei Wuxian) and searching for medicinal supplies (Wen Qing). It doesn’t look like anyone’s done any work in here for at least twenty years, so when I say that Wei Wuxian is “weeding,” he’s essentially just pulling everything up and piling it off to the side for Wen Qing to examine.

“We could grow radishes,” Wei Wuxian says, gesturing to an empty patch he’s cleared in the soil. “They grow really fast. They’d be ready to harvest before we’re done here. Greens, too, maybe. Spinach, lettuce.”

Wen Qing pauses, her arms full of kudzu. “Wei Wuxian,” she says, a little sharp. “Are we going to talk about it? Or are we just going to keep acting like everything is normal?”

He doesn’t answer, pulling another weed just a little too viciously.

“I mean. I haven’t seen you since …” she trails off, shakes her head.

“I know,” he says, not turning around. He puts one hand on his dantian, softly, almost like he’s feeling an old wound. “I know.”

“Afterwards—you didn’t message. I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, well. Close enough, I guess. And then after I thought you probably figured it out. From … well. People talk.”

“People talk a lot of bullshit,” Wen Qing says, sharply. She drops the kudzu and crosses the garden to him, forces him to stand up. He’s almost a foot taller than her, but she manages to loom over him anyway. (Can someone please teach me the trick of this? My sisters do it to me all the time!) “So? How are you?”

He looks away. “I’m surviving.”

She tugs out one of her silver needles and lines it up like she’s going to toss it at him, then stops and puts it back in her sleeve. “You …” she seems to think of, and then reject, about eight different things that she could say, before finally going with, “Why are you here? It’s a terrible idea.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I couldn’t get out of it. Business is business, as Auntie Yu likes to tell me. And I promised I’d be on my best behaviour.” She keeps looking at him, until he shakes his head and laughs. “Aiya, Qing-jie, why the interrogation? I’m fine, alright? Everything’s fine. It’s been a bit, tell me how your brother’s doing. Still into archery?”

The camera cuts to Lan Jingyi telling Jin Ling all about the previous day’s night hunt—he’s retelling Lan Wangji and Luo Qingyang’s takedown of the yowling mass of maogui, complete with hilarious sound effects—so we don’t find out whether Wen Qing’s unnamed brother is, in fact, still into archery. Nor do we find anything more out about Wei Wuxian’s mysterious past, which apparently somehow involves Wen Qing?

(I don’t even know where to begin with the guesses about Wei Wuxian’s backstory. A curse? An embarrassing run in with a huli jing? A bad fall while sword-riding? That might explain why he doesn’t carry a sword! But I’m not sure any of it would explain demonic cultivation.)

Day 15, 4:45 p.m.

Late in the afternoon, a flare goes up from the village closest to the watchtower. This time, it’s Wei Wuxian, Jin Ling, Lan Wangji, and Su She that head out on the night hunt. At the edge of the village, they meet up with a young woman with all-white eyes, who explains that half of the village was struck down with strange fevers after a weird powdery fog blew in from the woods. Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling go inside to inspect the afflicted, while Lan Wangji and Su She head for the woods.

“Corpse poison,” Wei Wuxian concludes, after opening a patient’s mouth and inspecting his tongue.

“How do you know?” Jin Ling objects, disbelieving. “You’ve barely looked at him.”

“Oh, I know all the symptoms! If you spend a lot of time around walking corpses, you’ll —” Wei Wuxian catches himself, and waves one hand. “Never mind that, A-Ling. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

(I just looked up “corpse poison” on Baidu. I have regrets.)

Wei Wuxian sends Jin Ling to make glutinous rice—which Jin Ling, unsurprisingly, complains about (“If I’d wanted to cook I would have gone on MasterChef”)—and goes off to help the other two. Outside, Lan Wangji is engaged in a fight with a nine-fingered rogue cultivator, who seems to be both strong and sneaky; he’s making Hanguang-jun sweat, at least. (Well, maybe not literally—I don’t think Lan Wangji sweats—but you know what I mean.)

And what is Su She doing to assist in this fight, you might ask? Wei Wuxian seems to be wondering the same thing. He prods Su She—who is lying off to one side, curled up in a ball—with the toe of one sneaker.

“He inhaled the powder,” Lan Wangji explains, parrying a heavy blow.

“Oh, don’t move around too much, then,” Wei Wuxian says, to Su She. “If it gets to your heart, you’ll become a walking corpse.”

“What? Is there a cure?” Su She says, perturbed. “Wei Wuxian! Is there a cure?”

Wei Wuxian ignores him in favour of throwing an explosion talisman at the rogue cultivator, who seems to decide that the odds are no longer in his favour. He uses the cover of the explosion to leap away, disappearing over the roof of a nearby house.

“We should detain him,” Lan Wangji says. Since he could probably chase the man down, this seems like an obvious challenge to Wei Wuxian. “I believe he is the cause of the illness plaguing the villagers.”

“No problem, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says—which, wait, hold up. Did he manage to get Lan Wangji’s milk name out of him after all???—before unleashing the Bonding? Binding? Boring talisman. The crimson cord snakes over the top of the building and drags the startled rogue cultivator back over the roof, clattering across the tiles. A second version of the same talisman neatly disarms him. Wei Wuxian gives Lan Wangji a cheeky little grin. “Not so boring anymore, right?”

At the post-night hunt debrief, Lan Wangji is very complimentary of Wei Wuxian’s handling of events: “It was lucky for the villagers that you were aware of the cure, Wei Ying,” he says. “Events might have ended very differently if you had not arrived in time.” Wow, someone’s done an about-face on his original assessment of Wei Wuxian.

Luo Qingyang, too, in an interview, suggests that her initial opinion of Wei Wuxian has improved: “I wasn’t sure what to expect, honestly,” she says. “Pretty much everything I’d heard about him was terrible. The way some people talk, you’d think he was wandering around with a gang of ghosts and killing Sect disciples for fun. But everything he’s done here has been great. When I get home, I’m going to tell people to shut up with the criticisms.”

Su She, on the other hand, is spending his “recuperation” time (Wei Wuxian has already given him glutinous rice, which neutralizes the corpse poison) complaining about the man who saved him. “Talismans aren’t really cultivation,” he says. “Those are just crafty tricks. Anyone can draw a talisman. You don’t even need a golden core for that!”

Day 19, 7:30 a.m. Somewhere in the woods to the northwest of the watchtower.

Seems like this must be the designated Night Hunt Episode! The whole group is heading out to respond to a message from a distant village saying that a number of measuring serpents have been spotted in the nearby woods. Wei Wuxian can’t travel by sword (or won’t? He just says “I don’t have a sword,” which isn’t really an explanation), so someone’s provided him with a donkey.

“I call him Xiao Pingguo,” Wei Wuxian says, as they trudge along a dry river bottom. “He’s very”—attempting, unsuccessfully, to yank Xiao Pingguo’s head up from a clump of dry brown grass—“food-motivated. I think he may be the slowest donkey in the world. We’re buds, though. Right, Xiao Pingguo? Right?”

Xiao Pingguo snorts, and keeps mouthing at the dry grass.

The others are riding their swords at varying heights: Su She, almost out of sight of the ground, is muttering something that sounds like “why do we have to accommodate him”; Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing, a little lower, are laughing and chatting about something—they seem to be good friends by now; Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are only about two body lengths off the ground, probably so that they don’t get hurt when their attempts at flips and barrel rolls inevitably end with a fall; and, finally, Lan Wangji, who was hovering a zhang above the ground, has now disembarked to walk alongside Xiao Pingguo. He seems to have the magic touch, or maybe he’s just got an apple in his sleeve, because the donkey stops eating and begins to move along at a good clip.

“You don't have to keep me company, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. (I’m still not over this. He calls him Lan Zhan! And Lan Wangji allows it.) “I know it’s more fun up there.”

“I wish to walk, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, expressionless, and after a moment Wei Wuxian shrugs his acceptance.

Soon after, he brings out the dizi, and for a moment I think we’re going to get to see a demonstration of some sort of wicked cultivation, but instead he just starts noodling away at a cover of Mao Buyi’s “Someone Like Me.” Halfway through, Lan Jingyi starts to sing along, and then Luo Qingyang, and by the end everyone except Su She is singing, even Lan Wangji, in a warm tenor that’s a surprising contrast to his baritone speaking voice.

The day seems to drag on, after that: there’s a series of shots of cultivators wilting in the unseasonably warm autumn sun. At one point, Jin Ling drops down so he’s riding level with Xiao Pingguo’s back. “Lan-qianbei,” he says, sounding whiny, or maybe dehydrated. “Isn’t this whole night hunt kind of beneath us? My dad says measuring serpents are easy prey.”

“One measuring serpent, alone, is often simple work for a cultivator,” Lan Wangji agrees, very seriously. I bet he’s a great teacher. I’d pay good money for him to come and sternly tell me how I’m messing up my meditation. “But in a group, they can be difficult to handle. And it is not a question of what is easy, or what prey is most prestigious. We have the ability to help those who cannot cultivate, and so I have always thought that we should go where the chaos is.”

Jin Ling rises into the sky again, looking thoughtful, while Wei Wuxian leans forward to look at Lan Wangji, a fond smile on his face. “‘Go where the chaos is’?” he asks.

“Does that surprise you, Wei Ying?”

“Not surprised, just … I don’t know. I thought …”

“That I was hidebound, perhaps,” Lan Wangji says, dryly. “A stick-in-the-mud, I believe you said.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian laughs. “Don’t throw my words back in my face. You had me at swordspoint!”

“I am sorry for that, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, turning to look him in the eye. “I was … rash. Too quick to judge.”

A flicker of something, in Wei Wuxian’s eyes: an ember, leaping to flame, only to be doused beneath a wave of regret. He pats Xiao Pingguo lightly on the flank, then leans back, so he can’t see Lan Wangji’s face anymore. “Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse first encounters, and people have said worse things about me. I wasn’t at my best that night, either,” he says, then gestures upwards. “Ah, look, A-Ling and Jingyi are racing. Maybe you should head up there again, Lan Zhan. Someone needs to keep an eye on them …”

Lan Wangji, who knows a request for space when he hears one, mounts his sword and lifts off, leaving Wei Wuxian to trudge forward, alone with his donkey, carrying some weight that looks—on this recapper’s screen, at least—rather like bitter disappointment.

Day 19, 4:15 p.m. A rural village in northwestern Hubei.

The group arrives at their destination in late afternoon. All the houses are quiet, and dark, and the streets empty; our crew of cultivators stands around, looking confused, until a woman pops her head out a gate in a stone wall and gestures for everyone to come inside. Once everyone’s scurried through the gate, the woman introduces herself as a member of the village committee. “It’s not just two measuring serpents, it’s a whole nest,” she says, explaining that the nest is in the forest to the west of the village. “They’ve taken an interest in the village, and now we can’t leave our homes, since they’re certainly taller than any of us.”

“Okay, why don’t we draw them to this spot,” Wei Wuxian says, scratching a hasty map in the dirt of the yard with a stick. Here is an open area to the south of the village. “Once they’re gathered together, it’ll be easy. Like turtles caught in a jar.”

“I was not aware you could herd measuring serpents, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, dryly.

“You’ll see, Lan Zhan,” is Wei Wuxian’s cheerful retort, before he leads everyone down the road to the south. The fact that Lan Wangji doesn’t ask any further questions about the plan, but simply goes along with it, tells us everything we need to know about his current opinion of Wei Wuxian, I think.

In the clearing, Wei Wuxian pulls a number of black flags out of his qiankun sleeve, each marked with a series of incantations and motifs. He distributes them on stakes in a loose circle around the clearing. “These are spirit-attracting flags,” he says, withdrawing from the circle he’s made. The flags hang limp in the still air, but something about the red incantations on the black background is unnerving. “Five is probably overkill, for measuring serpents. We won’t have to wait long.”

He’s right: the targets do show up almost right away. Seven (!!!) silver serpents, each the length of a commercial jet, slither reluctantly into the clearing, almost like they’ve been magnetized. “Not to state the obvious, but that is a whole fuckton of measuring serpents,” Lan Jingyi says, pulling out his sword.

Fight scene! Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling and Luo Qingyang leap around, bashing the serpents with flashing sword glares and heavy blows, while Wen Qing flings those deadly-looking needles from outside the circle. She catches one in the acupoint over the eyes and it topples to the ground like a pine in a lightning storm. The serpents fight back with serpent-y tactics, like snapping their enormous fangs and writhing around wildly.

Lan Wangji pulls Wangji out of his sleeve and starts blasting Sound of Vanquish. Su She has his guqin out, too, but the first thing he manages to do is send a wave of sound that disrupts Lan Wangji’s attack. Lan Wangji then whips out a guqin string instead. He wraps it around one serpent’s neck and begins to pull, in what the captions indicate is the very-coolly named Chord Assassination Technique.

Wei Wuxian, hovering on the edge of the circle, starts to raise his hands, like he’s going to do some form of cultivation, and then stops, seeming frustrated. “Should have brought a bow,” he says, shaking his head, fingers tightening into a fist. “Whoops.” Instead, he begins firing freezing talismans into the mix, but the serpents are strong. Not as strong as Lan Wangji, but even still each talisman earns only five seconds or so of reprieve before the serpents are back in action, their barrel-thick tails whipping across the clearing.

Just then, there’s a scream, high-pitched and terrified, in the distance. Wei Wuxian turns and sprints towards it. At this point there are still three-and-a-half serpents in the area marked out by the flags—one of them has lost its tail, but since it’s still taller than the humans, it hasn’t lost its zeal for attempting to devour them—so Lan Wangji asks Jin Ling to go assist Wei Wuxian, while everyone else remains behind.

The camera follows Jin Ling as he runs through the trees and bursts out onto a dirt road. He’s greeted by a stomach-churning sight: an enormous measuring serpent, maybe four times as large as the others, looming over a cowering little boy.

Jin Ling is too far away to be any help. Wei Wuxian is closer, but not close enough to do anything, not without a sword and maybe not even if he had one. It’s out of the range of his talismans, too. I’m covering my eyes and peeking through my fingers, because the kid is three, four at the most, just a baby—

“Up,” Wei Wuxian says, cold and calm. He’s planted himself in the middle of the road, hands raised, palms up.

In response, thick black strands of energy leap up and loop around the serpent, dragging it away from the shrieking child. I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure that’s not spiritual energy? I’m pretty sure that’s resentful energy? And Wei Wuxian, with one hand out and a red flame burning on his palm, is somehow controlling it? Alright, I guess I knew he could do something like this, but it’s one thing to hear it and another entirely to see it.

“Get the kid,” Wei Wuxian says, to Jin Ling.

“What?” Jin Ling says. He’s staring at the mass of resentful energy, eyes wide.

“Go get the kid, A-Ling!”

Jin Ling shakes free of his shock and whips in on his sword, dragging the boy out from beneath the struggling serpent. As soon as they’re clear, Wei Wuxian claps his hands together, and yells “Close!”

The resentful energy coils into a crimson-black ball, the writhing serpent at its centre. And then, when Wei Wuxian separates his hands again and hisses, “Open,” there’s no more serpent: just chunks of scaly flesh littered across the road, steaming slightly in the aftermath of an enormous crimson explosion.

There’s a soft sound from behind him, and Wei Wuxian turns to find Lan Wangji, a bloody guqin string dangling from his fingers, a look of—startlement? awe? disgust? honestly, I can’t tell, and I bet Wei Wuxian can’t either—on his face.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding weary. “There you go, Lan Zhan. Another little skills demonstration.”

Before Lan Wangji can reply, the little boy wiggles free from Jin Ling’s clutches, runs to Wei Wuxian, and leaps into his arms.

“You saved me,” he says, and then bursts into big, snotty sobs—I feel you, buddy—just as the others break through the tree cover, swords out. They scan the scene: crying child, serpent blasted into smithereens, and Wei Wuxian looking a little grim. I can’t help remembering what he said to Wen Qing: I promised to be on my best behaviour. I think we may have just seen him breaking that promise.

Day 19, 9:45 p.m. A forest, at night.

The group stops to camp for the night on the way back to the watchtower. Su She, Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are in their tents, while Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing are sitting together in the dark, stargazing and idly chatting about which adaptation of Legend of Condor Heroes is the best one. (It’s definitely not the 2017 version, whatever Wen Qing says.)

That leaves Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, sitting by the fire.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, breaking the silence. “Why?”

“Why what, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, grim, even though he knows—and we know—exactly what Lan Wangji is asking.

“Why do you cultivate on the ghostly path?” He doesn’t sound angry or accusatory about it, but even in the flickering firelight it’s obvious that Wei Wuxian’s hackles go up.

“It gets the job done, doesn’t it?” he says, with a sharp laugh. (It’s hard to argue with that, after that impressive display of cultivation power.) “And so—why not?”

Lan Wangji takes the question seriously. “Because there will be a price to pay,” he says. “This path will harm your body. It will harm your temperament even more. Your reputation—”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, cutting him off. “That’s my business, isn’t it?”

“Let me play the Song of Clarity for you, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. “If you come to Cloud Recesses, we can determine if it has done any damage, if it is reversible—”

“Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says, very cold. (Ouch!) He surges to his feet. “Let me rephrase. What I do with my body, my cultivation, and my reputation is none of your business.”

With that, he disappears into the night, leaving us with that emotional cliffhanger for the end of Episode 2.

Episode 3: “The Twenty-Sixth Year of Jiajing, the Year of Dingwei”

Hello again! Ouyang Zizhen here. I see there’s lots of speculation on Weibo about Wei Wuxian’s reasons for taking up demonic cultivation, and some of you have asked if I’ve been investigating the matter. No! I have not! These recaps aren’t all about the gossip like some people’s (cough, Sect Leader Yao), so while I’m as curious as the rest of you—okay, yes, I really want to know—I’m not going to go digging around on social media looking for clues or indulging in ridiculous theories. (It’s not because he was “swallowed by a giant tortoise and had to invent demonic cultivation to get out,” okay? It’s just not.)

Day 22, 2:44 p.m.

We open with an overhead shot of Su She, sneaking around in the area beyond the moongate that leads from the watchtower garden towards a steep drop-off. At one point he trips over something—a stone, maybe? it looks like there might be ruins, perched on the cliff’s edge—and right after there’s a distant, ominous rumble. Why do I have this feeling we’ve just seen Su She disturb something that shouldn’t have been disturbed?

Anyway, Su She seems surprised when a camera catches him sitting on a stone mound (yup, definitely ruins), looking at something in his hand. He hastily shoves whatever-it-is back in his sleeve. Was that a cell phone? Was he out there looking for better reception?

“Just exploring,” he says, unconvincingly, before launching into a happy little speech about how the recent night hunt seems to have helped Lan Wangji recognize that Wei Wuxian is “not the sort of cultivator he should associate with,” whatever that means.

Day 22, 2:54 p.m.

At that very moment, Lan Wangji is with Wen Qing in the room where she mixes her elixirs and antidotes. Somehow, he’s intuited that she knows something about Wei Wuxian’s decision to follow the ghostly path, and he wants to know what that something is. (Kind of dispels the notion that he’s not interested in associating with Wei Wuxian, doesn’t it?) Because it’s Lan Wangji, he just asks her, rather than trying to charm or trick her into talking about it.

“Have you asked Wei Wuxian about this?” Wen Qing replies, not looking up from the blue-green mixture she’s decocting into a clay jar.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, because lying is forbidden.

“And?” She begins to infuse the mixture with a steady stream of spiritual energy.

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Well, then, I’m certainly not going to tell you, either,” she says, acerbic.

“You do know the answer, then,” Lan Wangji says, and I take back what I said: that is tricky, Hanguang-jun.

Meanwhile, behind the outbuildings, Lan Jingyi is also trying to pump someone for information about demonic cultivation, except he’s gone directly to the source. Jin Ling is lingering off to one side, acting like he’s not interested, but I bet the questions are actually his—he was the one who witnessed the whole serpent-goes-boom incident, after all.

“How does it work? I mean, what’s the theory?” Lan Jingyi asks. “And does it feel different than cultivating with spiritual energy? Do you find it hard to control?”

Wei Wuxian seems tempted to answer, but then shakes his head. “That’s all boring stuff, Jingyi,” he says. “How about you two help me test this new talisman I’m designing instead? It’s an adaptation of a portal talisman—”

Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi disappear faster than they could if they actually were using a portal talisman, which is probably the smart choice given the history of Wei Wuxian’s works-in-progress. Wei Wuxian chuckles and reveals that the “new talisman” is blank. “Works every time,” he says, grinning.

Day 26, 2:42 p.m.

Lan Jingyi is crouching in the back garden, inspecting a row of tiny radish plants. “I’m hiding out here,” he faux-whispers to the camera. “Weird stuff’s been happening here for the last few days, plus everyone’s been super grumpy, so I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

Just then Wen Qing comes out the door, hands on hips. “Jingyi,” she snaps. “Did you play with my mortar and pestle?”

“No?” he says.

“There are dangerous ingredients in the herb room,” she says, irritated. “You have no idea what sort of problems you could cause if you combine the wrong ones.”

She whirls around and goes back inside, leaving a confused Lan Jingyi to share his laments with the radishes. “It really wasn’t me,” he mutters, wrinkling up his nose. “Lying is forbidden! I don’t even know where she keeps the mortar and pestle!”

In the library, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are sitting at separate tables, reading in silence. Looks like they haven’t entirely patched things up since the campfire conversation. Su She is in there, too, alternately browsing that same musical cultivation text that Lan Wangji was reading the last time we saw the library and sneaking glances at Hanguang-jun.

“There is an interesting note here on the use of suppression arrays,” Lan Wangji says, a bit stiffly, but from where I am that reads like a peace offering.

“The problem with suppression arrays is that they’re useless if you’re anywhere busier than a moderate-sized town,” Wei Wuxian says, not looking up. “Repelling arrays, too. If you look on the next page—”

Lan Wangji turns the page, then surges to his feet at the sight of something in the book. “Wei Ying,” he says, low and irritated. “You should show more respect for the books, even if you do not respect their contents.”

He glides out—Lan Wangji wouldn’t be so uncouth as to stomp out of a room—while Wei Wuxian yells after him: “Lan Zhan! Whatever it was, it wasn’t me, I swear!” Su She watches all this with keen interest.

The camera returns to Wen Qing, who enters the central hall to find Luo Qingyang, staring at a mess of archery gear on the floor. “If he’s going to teach them to shoot, can’t he teach them to pick up after themselves afterwards?” she mutters. “Do they think I’m their mother?”

“Hey,” Wen Qing says. “I got a message from a village to the south of here asking for help with some sort of crop curse. Want to come check it out?”

“Seriously? So much. Yes please. Any excuse to get out of here.”

Next we see Wei Wuxian, muttering grumpily to himself and preparing to enter the wooden tub in the bathing room. There are whirling tornadoes of steam rising from the water as he de-robes, but when he steps in he shrieks, jumping back. A wave of water sloshes over the side of the tub, visible even from the perspective of the camera, which remains modestly on the other side of the white screen.

“Fuck me,” he hisses. “It’s colder than snowmelt. And I just heated it!”

Sometime later, Jin Ling is sitting on the balcony on the second floor of watchtower, a bow in hand. He’s aiming at something down below while talking to Lan Jingyi, who is practicing his one-handed handstands. “Three nights in a row, the same dream,” Jin Ling complains, carefully adjusting his posture—shoulder down, hands down, forearm straight, and where have we heard that before?—before he releases the shot. “I keep dreaming about this guy, and somehow I know he’s my brother, even though I don’t have a brother. And he’s trying to kill me, I think.”

“I had that dream too,” Lan Jingyi says, flipping back to his feet. “And if you put that together with the weird stuff happening around here …” He pulls one of Wei Wuxian’s spiritual anomaly-seeking talismans out of his sleeve, grinning. “Do you want to see if we can find a ghost?”

Down in the courtyard, Su She goes to retrieve his robes from a clothesline, only to find them riddled with arrow holes. (I wonder if Su She made the mistake of sharing his opinions about Wei Wuxian a little too loudly. Wei Wuxian may not be Jin Ling’s favourite uncle, but he’s still Jin Ling’s uncle, you know?) He pulls the robes down and stomps off (unlike Lan Wangji, Su She definitely stomps), and one jump cut later he’s heading out through the front gate, dressed in modern clothes.

Day 26, 5:35 p.m.

Another overhead shot of the crumbling ruins. There’s a steady glow coming from the stones, presumably from the talisman, but Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling don’t seem to have noticed.

“No, the spirit’s probably older than that,” Jin Ling is saying. “When the watchtower was abandoned, it was because of reports of malicious spirits. One of the cultivators staffing the watchtower wrote there is something here with us in the daily records.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s super creepy,” Lan Jingyi says. “And second of all, how the hell do you know that?”

“I wanted to know something about where I was going to live for the next six weeks,” Jin Ling says, defensively. “I did some research. That’s not weird!”

“I didn’t say it was weird!” Lan Jingyi retorts, turning to look back at Jin Ling—but when he does, Jin Ling isn’t there anymore. An unnatural mist has risen among the smattering of pines along the cliff’s edge, obscuring the view for more than a few feet in any direction.

“A-Ling? A-Ling? Where’d you go?” Lan Jingyi whips his sword out, clutching one of the explosion talismans in his other hand fist.

“Jingyi? Jingyi!” Jin Ling, too, has unsheathed his sword. He’s stumbled into an area with a low stone dome. “This place sucks. Maybe we should—”

What Jin Ling thinks they should do remains unspoken, because the ground opens up like a giant maw and gobbles him right up. Lan Jingyi arrives a moment later, just in time to see the jaws of the earth snapping shut, stones grinding together with a toothy crunch. The only sign that Jin Ling was ever there is his sword, abandoned in the dirt.

“Oh, shit,” Lan Jingyi says. “Oh, shit—”

The next shot is Lan Jingyi sprinting through the watchtower, yelling for help. He skids around a corner and knocks a still-damp Wei Wuxian, who was coming out of the bathing room, to the ground. (He’s weirdly easy to knock down, for a cultivator.)

“Whoa, whoa, Jingyi, slow down,” Wei Wuxian says, climbing to his feet. “What’s happening?”

“It’s A-Ling. He—we—a haunting?” Lan Jingyi says, panting. “And then he—we—and got eaten by the ruins.” There are other words in there, but they’re too tangled up to make sense of it.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t care about the details, though. “Show me,” he says, sharp, already on his way out.

“What about Lan-zhangbei? Should we go get him?”

“I can handle it. If I need—better if he … well, like I said. I can handle it.” They’re already at the moongate, pushing through the overhanging vines and out into the pine woods beyond.

When they arrive at the spot where Jin Ling disappeared—the maze array, if that’s what it was, seems to be inactive now—Wei Wuxian crouches and puts one hand on the ground. Resentful energy begins to twist up from the dirt, like winding lines of charcoal silk. “Stand back,” he says, and Lan Jingyi promptly obeys, backing up as far as he can while still watching Wei Wuxian.

“I could explode the ground, with a talisman,” Wei Wuxian mutters, maybe to himself, or maybe as an explanation for Lan Jingyi. “But I don’t know how deep he is. And we’re close to the edge of the cliff, it could be unstable. So …” He raises his hand up, in a beckoning gesture. The energy rises, too, and with it rises the soil, particle by particle: grains of dirt, pebbles, broken chunks of worked stone, all suspended in the air, like a sandstorm frozen above the dunes of the Tengger.

As more and more bits of soil choke the air, Wei Wuxian’s eyes take on red sheen, and sweat starts running down his forehead. Finally—

“There!” Lan Jingyi yells. “There he is!” He points to the rising Jin Ling, slumped in the smoky embrace of the resentful energy, eyes closed, blood running freely from his nose. As soon as Jin Ling’s feet break the surface, Wei Wuxian slams his hand down, sending the soil scurrying back to the dark places it left behind. Jin Ling collapses to the ground.

“Is he—”

Wei Wuxian has one hand on Jin Ling’s pulse, the other under his nostrils, before Lan Jingyi can finish the question. After a second, he nods, and sags in relief, just as Jin Ling starts to mutter, in a raw, strained voice: “No—it’s not fair—please, let her, let her …”

“What’s he talking about?” Lan Jingyi says, crouching beside Wei Wuxian.

“I don’t know. Start passing him spiritual energy, will you? I’ll check for injuries.”

Lan Jingyi starts to pass a steady, singing stream of pale blue energy to Jin Ling, fingertips to wrist, while Wei Wuxian flips his robes up, exposing a black, blistered curse mark on one shin. It’s visibly climbing his leg, rising towards the kneecap even as Wei Wuxian prods at it. All through this, Jin Ling is shaking and talking to himself: fragments of sentences, half-formed thoughts. “Save her,” he says, desperate. “If you can, if you can, I’ll—I’ll—Please!”

“A hallucination,” Wei Wuxian says. “Part of the curse, probably.”

“Can you suppress it?” Lan Jingyi asks.

“No. Not in time, at least. Qing-jie can probably treat it, but she went out on a night hunt.”

Day 26, 5:41 p.m. A farm southeast of Shiyan.

At the mention of Wen Qing, we briefly cut to her location. She and Luo Qingyang are conferring in a cornfield, a group of farmers watching nervously from a distance. A close-up of the stalks shows a dark, creeping blight on the leaves, while the cobs look like they’re melting, leaves and silk and kernels liquefying and oozing downwards. Gross. I’m going to stay away from corn for a while after this, I think.

“Well?” Luo Qingyang says, hushed. She gestures to the plants, careful not to touch the melty-corn stuff. “Is this just some sort of plant thing, or is it something we can treat?”

“No idea.”

“Really? I thought you knew all about plants and stuff.”

“I’m a doctor, Qingyang, not an agronomist!”

Day 26, 5:43 p.m. In the ruins.

Back to the saga of Jin Ling and the Curse. If he can’t suppress it, Wei Wuxian decides, the only option is to transfer it—to himself.

“But—” Lan Jingyi protests.

“I can handle hallucinations,” Wei Wuxian says, setting his hands on Jin Ling’s shaking leg. The curse has begun to climb his thigh. “And I’ll be able to hold it off for longer than he can. But, uh, now might be a good time for you to go get your Lan-zhangbei.”

For the second time in five minutes, we watch as Lan Jingyi sprints through the watchtower. He finds Hanguang-jun in the kitchen, carefully pouring hot oil into a bowl. “Jingyi,” Lan Wangji acknowledges, not turning around. “How is your spice tolerance? I find myself in need of a taste-tester.”

“Lan-zhangbei,” Lan Jingyi says, and at his panicked squawk Lan Wangji spins around, abandoning his cooking project. “It’s—Wei-qianbei, and A-Ling. They— ”

At the stone mound, the hallucinations already have Wei Wuxian in their grip. He’s wandering towards the cliff edge, talking to himself in a low voice, while Jin Ling tries desperately to keep him away from the steep drop-off. He’s still recovering from his own curse-induced hallucinations, though (not to mention being buried alive), so Wei Wuxian evades him easily. He’s so close—another step and he’ll walk right off the cliff—

At the last possible second, a blue leash of spiritual energy whips around Wei Wuxian’s waist, yanking him back from the edge. Hanguang-jun to the rescue! Lan Wangji has found a use for the Not-So-Boring-Anymore talisman, it seems.

“Wei Ying,” he says, low. Wei Wuxian struggles against the talisman rope, and after considering for a moment, Lan Wangji uses it to tie him to a nearby tree. Then he picks up Wei Wuxian’s trembling fingers and presses them between his broad palms. “Wei Ying. Can you hear me? Do you understand me?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes jerk open, and somehow he manages to swim up through whatever nightmare the curse is drowning him in. “Lan Zhan,” he gasps. “I’m—I’m okay. Don’t listen to anything I say right now, okay? It’s just—it’s all nonsense … Nothing real.”

His eyes flutter closed again as he slumps into the clutch of the talisman cord. “Jiang Cheng,” he whispers, back in the hallucination. “He can’t—he can’t. If I could—give him. Could you? It doesn’t matter to me … it won’t matter. Fifty percent—I’ll be fine.”

Jin Ling, who is now crouched at the base of a tree, head between his knees, looks up at this. “I—when I was hallucinating, I thought I was …” he shakes his head, grimaces. “I was reliving worst moment of my life. The worst thing I can remember.” Lan Wangji glances at him, then back at Wei Wuxian, and just for a moment—blink, and you’ll miss it—he rubs his thumb over the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand, gentle.

“Lan-zhangbei? Can you suppress the curse?” Lan Jingyi asks.

“Not with sufficient speed,” Lan Wangji says, not taking his eyes off Wei Wuxian. “We would need Wen-daifu for that”—

Smash cut to Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang, huddled behind a boulder at the edge of a woodland. Something is rampaging through the cornfield behind them, while Wen Qing briskly applies a sticky green elixir to a vicious scratch on Luo Qingyang’s arm. “Ta ma de!” Luo Qingyang hisses. “I hate tree demons.”

“You ready to go back out?” Wen Qing says. In the field, the tree demon unleashes an unearthly, windy howl of rage.

“Yeah, alright. This time, you draw it off to the north, and I’ll come up from behind with a fire talisman.” Together, they leap out from behind the boulder.

—“but there is another way to remove a curse.”

Lan Wangji materializes his guqin and sinks gracefully to the ground, cross-legged. Behind him, Wei Wuxian struggles against the binding talisman, groaning.

“It hurts,” he says, his face agonized. “It hurts, Wen Qing. Did you tell me it would hurt? Of course you did, I know, I know—no, don’t stop. You can’t stop …” the words trail off into breathless whimpers of pain, and Lan Wangji visibly restrains himself from rising to his feet again.

“Lan-zhangbei … is he alright?”

“It is the hallucination,” Lan Wangji says, firmly. None of them are saying the obvious—if that curse mark remains for much longer, Wei Wuxian will lose his leg; if he’s under its influence for too long, he’ll die. Jin Ling, who must be aware that Wei Wuxian transferred the curse mark onto his own body to save him, looks like he’s going to throw up. “In order to stop it, we must appease the spirit that caused the curse.”

“And how do we do that?” Jin Ling demands.

“I will speak with the spirit.” Lan Wangji plucks a few short notes on the guqin, and luminescent green spheres of spiritual energy begin to drift outwards, in time with the vibration of the strings. In the watery dusk-light, they look like jellyfish, rising toward the surface of the sea.

After a moment, a few bubbles of energy float back down, and pluck the notes of the qin themselves. “His name is Tao Ling,” Lan Wangji translates.

There are a few more exchanges, with Lan Wangji plucking the strings in a question and the spirit plucking out a response, before he speaks again. “He says died some five hundred years ago; he cannot be more exact. He was the senior disciple of the Wuchang Tao Clan, half-brother of Tao-zongzhu.”

Another pause, for more musical messaging. It’s slower than WeChat, but it’s getting the job done. “There were those in the clan who thought Tao Ling should rule,” Lan Wangji says, slowly, when there is a break in the vibration of the strings. “He says he did not wish his brother ill, did not want to hurt him, but that there was—”

A long passage of notes, with Lan Wangji pausing to listen. “—a misunderstanding. It was all a misunderstanding, he says. But his brother confronted him, and sent him to man the watchtower, as a punishment.”

Wei Wuxian seems less frantic, now; only a few of his muttered words are audible over the eery, disjointed melody from the guqin: “Wen Chao,” he says, with a twisted grin. “You think … do … worst.”

“He died soon after his arrival here,” Lan Wangji continues. “He believes he was—crushed, beneath something. Stones fell. The other cultivators here died, too. He remembers hearing them scream, as he was dying. He thinks—he thinks his brother sent someone to kill him, but he does not know. He wishes to know.”

“And so—what? We have to figure out how he died, to appease him?” Jin Ling says, rising from his crouch. “Or confirm that it was his brother? How the fuck are we going to do that?”

For a fraction of a second, a look of uncertainty passes across Lan Wangji’s face, as if he, too, does not know how they’ll manage it in time. “I will ask more questions,” he says, finally. He sends more phosphorescent energy swirling into the looming dark. “He has some recollection of—”

The words are cut off by an anguished howl from Wei Wuxian. He reaches frantically for the dizi at his belt, stretching against the talisman, but it’s no good. The dizi is out of reach. Instead, he begins to whistle: a thin, wretched melody, almost atonal, and yet—there’s something in it that sounds almost like the qin language that Lan Wangji uses for Inquiry. A call to the dead, a language that’s not meant for the living.

The other three freeze, watching him, until the stone mound begins to rumble, as if something—or someone, or more than one someone—is trying to shake its way out.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, urgently. “Wei Ying, stop!”

The whistling rises higher, the ground shakes harder, and I wonder: how many corpses are there, buried in those ruins? Is Tao Ling the only one whose spirit lingers in the ruins by the cliff’s edge? And maybe Lan Wangji is wondering the same thing, because he (reluctantly, if his face is anything to go by) hits Wei Wuxian with the Lan silencing spell.

The tune cuts off, a note sliced in half. “Make certain he cannot hurt himself,” Lan Wangji says, to the other two, when Wei Wuxian starts to flail against the talisman’s bond again.

Now, when he plucks the strings, it’s urgent, almost fierce. “He recalls a great shaking, before he died,” Lan Wangji says, as the answer comes. “An explosion, perhaps—something strong enough to knock down part of the watchtower—”

“What can we do with that?” Jin Ling, holding one of Wei Wuxian’s arms flat against the tree, is angry, now—or scared, more likely, but it translates into a harsh anger. “What does that tell us, if he—” He stops. Looks across at the ruins. There’s still enough sunlight spilling over the horizon to illuminate the stone mound, the shape of what might have been there, once. “Wait. Did you say shaking?”

“Mn.”

“It wasn’t an explosion. There was an earthquake here,” Jin Ling says, tripping over the words in his haste to get them out. “In the twenty-sixth year of Jiajing, the year of Dingwei. That’s—four hundred and seventy-something years ago? I think? It was a big one. The original watchtower fell, it was rebuilt later on, a bit to the—never mind that. That—that’s what killed him, not his brother. It was nothing to do with his brother.”

Before he’s done speaking, Lan Wangji has already begun to play, even faster than before, a long passage of notes that fills the woods with hundreds of spheres of energy. After a pause, two low notes sound on the qin.

“He thanks you,” Lan Wangji says, his voice shaking with undisguised relief. “He is content, I believe, with knowing that his brother was not responsible for his death.”

The energy from Inquiry disperses into the air, falling back to the ground in a fine mist. As the neon green tint fades into the soil, Lan Wangji begins untying Wei Ying, tugging up the edge of his robe to make certain that the curse mark is fading into his skin. “Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. Blinks twice. Says “Lan Zhan? I told you I didn’t put that drawing in the book,” and pitches forward into Lan Wangji’s arms, unconscious.

Day 26, 7:57 p.m.

Wen Qing’s little makeshift treatment room is full up: there’s Wei Wuxian, awake but quiet, with Lan Wangji sitting beside him and watching him closely; Luo Qingyang, with a minor burn on one hand from the successful battle against the tree demon; Jin Ling, waiting for Wen Qing to check for aftereffects of his brief exposure to the curse mark; Lan Jingyi, telling the story of Tao Ling to the room at large; and Su She, still in his sweater and jeans, clutching his stomach and groaning.

“You went down into Shiyan?” Wen Qing asks. “What did you eat?”

“ … spicy duck neck,” Su She mutters. “And pearl fish balls. And roast duck? And pumpkin and chicken. Steamed wuchang fish. And—” (This is the most relatable Su She has been during his time on the show, honestly.)

“Stomachache,” Wen Qing diagnoses, brisk, and moves on to adjust the herbal compress on Luo Qingyang’s hand.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is doting on Wei Wuxian. That’s the only word for it: he makes Wei Wuxian drink water, adjusts his pillow, asks a series of low-voiced questions about how he’s feeling, and then offers to play the Song of Clarity for him. I thought this might get the same reaction it did when they were by the campfire, but Wei Wuxian just sighs and says “Qing-jie, tell Lan Zhan that I’m a model patient and that you don’t want him to interrupt your treatment plan.” To which Wen Qing retorts that Wei Wuxian has never once in his life been a model patient and that Lan Wangji’s interference is very welcome if it results in Wei Wuxian getting some sleep.

“I’m being bullied,” Wei Wuxian moans, but he does roll over and close his eyes.

Later that night, Jin Ling talks to Lan Jingyi about the hallucinations. “It was awful, because they were so realistic,” he says. “It was like I was 15 again, at the hospital with my dad, begging to be allowed to see Ma and Laolao.”

“What do you think Wei-qianbei was hallucinating about?”

Jin Ling hesitates. “I don’t know,” he says. “He … he disappeared for a while, after the car crash and the fire. I always thought he just didn’t care that much about us, that he didn’t want to deal with it. But now …” he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Day 27, 5:03 a.m.

In the pre-dawn dark, Wei Wuxian is kneeling by the path that runs through the pine woods behind the outbuildings. It looks like he’s erected a burial plaque. When Lan Wangji appears behind him, his handful of glowing spiritual energy illuminates the name carved into the wood: Tao Ling.

“Five hundred years seems like a long time to spend wondering if your brother hates you,” Wei Wuxian says, not turning around. He sounds weary, but also somehow younger than he has at any point before. “Don’t you think, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“Thank you for helping him.”

Lan Wangji stares down at him with a soft expression, almost like he’s forgotten that he still needs to respond. Let’s just call this what it is, shall we? Lan Wangji is gone on Wei Wuxian. Totally smitten. “I only did what anyone would have done,” he says, after a minute. “It was you who took a risk, taking the curse upon yourself. The hallucinations seemed—”

“They were just nightmares,” Wei Wuxian interjects. “Nothing real. And I’ve got such a bad memory, Lan Zhan, I won’t even remember what I saw by tomorrow.” He scrubs a hand over his brow. “Jingyi told me that you had to silence me. The whistling, I mean.”

“Mn.”

“Sorry.”

“No apologies are necessary.”

“Sure. Yeah.” When he turns and glances up at Lan Wangji, the light catches on his face; he looks as if the entire experience—curse, hallucinations—scored him open, and he can’t quite stitch the wound shut. “Lan Zhan? What’s it like, when you talk with the dead?”

Lan Wangji hesitates. “You have some familiarity with the dead, I think.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, soft. “Yeah. But I don’t talk to them, mostly. I mean, I have, with Empathy, but that’s more memory, you know? Not a conversation. And the rest of the time I just command them, I guess. It’s not the same. Have you ever—tried it. Inquiry, I mean. With someone you knew?”

“Once,” Lan Wangji says, and there’s the weight of some old heartbreak behind that single word.

“And?”

“She didn’t answer.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s how it is, isn’t it? It’s never the ones you want to hear.” Wei Wuxian sighs, dusts off his hands, and rises to his feet. “What time is it? If you’re up, I guess it must be five. Time for me to go to bed, then.”

“You have not slept?” Lan Wangji says. “Wen-daifu said you needed rest.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, don’t you start with me, Qing-jie is bad enough.” He bumps a shoulder against Lan Wangji’s, and they turn to walk back towards the watchtower. “I promise I’ll sleep now, okay?”

Day 28, 6:35 p.m.

The watchtower crew—minus Su She, who’s probably off somewhere grumping about something—are in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a celebratory feast. Lan Wangji and Luo Qingyang, the cooks in the group, are doing most of the work, but Wei Wuxian is bending very intently over one particular bronze pot.

“Is that …” Jin Ling says, coming over just as Wei Wuxian starts to ladle soup into bowls.

“Your mother’s famous soup. I miss it, now that we don’t live in the same city! Mine’s nowhere near as good, but …” he shrugs. “It’s enough to bring back the memory, at least.”

Jin Ling tries a spoonful and shrugs. “You’re right. It’s not as good.” He takes the bowl, though, and then turns back. “Jiujiu? I … Uh. Sorry. And thank you.” Somehow I think he’s talking about something other than the soup.

There’s one more food surprise when everyone sits down to dinner: Lan Wangji puts a bowl of bright red oil down beside Wei Wuxian.

“Lan Zhan! Is this chili oil?” Wei Wuxian says, delighted.

“Mn.” (Late entry to the Cultivation World drinking game: take a swig every time Lan Wangji says ‘Mn’?)

“Did you make this for me?”

“Mn.” (Too much? Maybe downgrade it to a sip.)

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I can’t believe you!” Wei Wuxian dumps two enormous spoonfuls of the oil into his bowl, and sighs happily at the first bite. His smile for Lan Wangji is so bright I feel like I need sunglasses to look at it.“This is the best. Lan Zhan, you’re the best.”

Day 28. 8:15 p.m.

Lan Wangji is in his room, playing a romantic-sounding ballad on his guqin, when Luo Qingyang happens to walk by. “That’s lovely,” she says. “What’s it called?”

Lan Wangji blushes—it’s not just his ears this time, his entire face goes bright red — and says, “It … it is private.”

And that’s a wrap on Episode 3! Please send me all your best guesses as to what embarrassing name Lan Wangji has given the song he’s written about his crush (you all know that’s what that was—it had real “Love Confession” energy), and next week I’ll share the best ones!

Episode 4: “The Single-Log Bridge”

To the person who messaged me to suggest that Lan Wangji’s song might be called 无羁 or 忘羡, I just have to say: I like your style. The thought of Hanguang-jun naming a song by mashing up his name with the name of his crush? That’s delicious. Unlikely, but delicious!

Now, on to the episode, where many questions remain to be answered: will the unresolved sexual tension get resolved? Will the mystery of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation be revealed? Can anything top the adrenaline rush of the race to appease the spirit of Tao Ling? And: will Su She continue to be the worst?

Day 32. 9:24 p.m.

The episode opens by giving us the answer to that last question: Su She is dropping hints that he’s discovered something of interest about one of his fellow cultivators. “When I was in Shiyan”—I’m not sure why he’s acting so insufferably smug about the fact that he broke the show’s rules and went down into the city—“I did a little research. And I found out a few things.” He taps the side of his nose, knowingly. Behind him, snow flutters softly past the window, heralding the arrival of winter at the watchtower. “I don’t want to say too much until I’m certain, but I should know very soon …”

Well. I don’t like the sound of that one bit!

Day 33. 2:52 p.m.

Wei Wuxian has been giving Lan Jingyi and Luo Qingyang regular archery lessons in the courtyard, with Jin Ling—who insists he already knows how to shoot, thank you very much—lingering off to one side while taking mental notes about everything Wei Wuxian says. At every lesson, whenever Lan Wangji walks through, Lan Jingyi says “Lan-zhangbei! Do you want to learn to shoot?”

And every time, Lan Wangji says, “I know how to shoot, Jingyi,” and continues on his way.

“I just feel like there’s something there, with Lan-zhangbei and Wei-qianbei,” Lan Jingyi says, in a brief interview. He looks frustrated. “They’re the best CP, you know? Because they’re both amazing, and Lan-zhangbei is so interested in everything Wei-qianbei says, and Wei-qianbei seems like he actually relaxes when he’s talking to Lan-zhangbei, right? So, you know, if they just got a little nudge in the right direction …”

Wen Qing’s opinion of this idea is eye roll, but she does begrudgingly say that “they’d be a good couple, if Wei Wuxian could get his head out of his ass long enough to see that Lan Wangji likes him.”

Jin Ling does not agree. (He secretly does agree.) “Whatever. I mean, I suppose Lan-qianbei is probably a good enough match for my jiujiu, but there’s nothing there. Probably. Whatever!”

On this particular afternoon, with the three cultivators shooting in the snow-covered courtyard, Lan Jingyi tries a different tactic. “Lan-zhangbei! Wei-qianbei’s been teaching us how to shoot two arrows at once! Do you think you could hit both targets in one shot?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. He’s already drifting across the courtyard in Wei Wuxian’s direction, like his body was just looking for an excuse to move towards him.

“Care to demonstrate, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says, a light flaring in his eyes.

“Mn.”

Lan Jingyi, realizing that he’s hit his mark, hustles Luo Qingyang and a protesting Jin Ling out of the courtyard, so as to give this archery flirtation room to unfold. (I spot Lan Jingyi’s head peeking back out from the kitchen door to watch, though.)

To the eternal gratitude of the persimmon tree, Wei Wuxian has set up two wooden targets, thereby preserving the golden fruit decorating the bare branches of the tree. Lan Wangji, wintry perfection in his ice-blue robes, accepts a bow from Wei Wuxian, and calmly sinks two arrows into the centre of the concentric rings.

“Not bad,” Wei Wuxian says, and then takes two arrows of his own and—without taking his eyes off Lan Wangji, which means he isn’t looking at the targets at all—shoots his shot, splitting both of Lan Wangji’s arrows in half. “But you’ve still got a few things to learn, Lan Zhan.”

“Oh? And would you like to teach me, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji responds. There is no mistaking the invitation there, even if Lan Wangji keeps his tone even and his face impassive.

Wei Wuxian, never one to back down from a challenge, comes up behind Lan Wangji and begins to carefully adjust his posture. His hands are on Lan Wangji’s arms and hips and wrists, while he murmurs something too low for the cameras to pick up.

“This is correct, then?” Lan Wangji says, shifting his stance back slightly, so that Wei Wuxian is almost draped over him.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding a little dazed. “Yeah, Lan Zhan, that’s pretty good, I mean. Yeah. It’s — it’s all a matter of proper form, you know?”

Lan Wangji turns his head to stare down at Wei Ying, standing just behind his shoulder. If he shifts forward a feather’s-width, their lips will touch. “I see,” he says, in a low voice. “Perhaps you could demonstrate what you mean by proper form, Wei Ying.”

That’s the most formal invitation to kiss I’ve ever heard and also it is working, if Wei Wuxian’s face is anything to go by. “Lan Zhan …” he murmurs, just as someone offscreen says, “Maybe you could return the favour by teaching him how to fight with a sword, Lan-laoshi,” with a self-satisfied little chuckle, and what the fuck, Su She, who invited you to this courtyard party? I called it! I called it in Episode 1, and here he is, living up to that prediction by being the worst.

Wei Wuxian jerks back, almost stumbling in the snow in his haste to get away. “I think you’ve got it, Lan Zhan,” he mumbles, while Lan Wangji glares at an unrepentant Su She. “You’ve got the idea. It’s cold, though, so probably we should head in. Uh. I’ll leave first.”

Rapid-fire reactions to that:

• “I hate that guy,” Lan Jingyi says, ferocious. “Hate him.”
• Su She looks cattily pleased with himself. “He’ll find out the truth soon enough,” he says, and I don’t know if he means Lan Wangji or Wei Wuxian, but either way it’s ominous.
• Last is Wei Wuxian himself, staring bleakly into the camera. “He’s Lan Wangji, right?” he says. “And I—well. I’m the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation.”

Day 35. 7:03 a.m.

Hanguang-jun is back in the library, reviewing another set of old texts. After an interview clip where he explains that he has indeed been working this whole time to catalogue and preserve the library, he unrolls a scroll and then jerks back, shocked at whatever he finds inside. In the next shot, he’s showing the scroll to Wen Qing while she eats her morning bao.

“In your medical opinion,” he says. Lan Wangji is being awfully careful not to reveal the contents of this mysterious scroll to the camera. “Would this be possible?”

She looks at it, then up at Lan Wangji, sharp, before looking away. “Yes.”

“And the odds of success?”

“Fifty percent. Better, perhaps, if you had a very talented physician.”

Lan Wangji’s face does something that’s halfway between dawning understanding and pure devastation. “And would it be painful?”

She hesitates, then nods. “If you were going to do this—hypothetically, of course—you couldn’t use anaesthesia.” When Lan Wangji walks away, he tucks the scroll into his qiankun sleeve, as if he’s decided not to catalogue that one.

Day 36. 11:55 a.m.

A message talisman arrives from Liujiayan, a town to the south of Yichang. Fierce corpses rising at ancient battlefield, it reads. If not stopped, they will overrun local villages.

Luo Qingyang, who like Jin Ling did some research before arriving on the show—“Mianmian wanted to know,” she explains—brings out a map and points to the location of the Battle of Yiling, also known as “the Burial Mounds.” When Wei Wuxian sees the location on the map, he goes pale and sits down heavily on a nearby stool.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wen Qing asks, putting two fingers to his yintang point.

“Nothing,” he mutters, brushing her off. “Nothing, it’s just—I’ve been there before.”

“There?” Su She says. He scrunches his face up into a judgmental little scowl. “An old mass grave? Why were you there?”

“Vacation,” Wei Wuxian snaps. “I can send you some brochures, if you want. I think you’d love the Blood Pool.”

The journey is a long one, and there seems to be some urgency, so after a bit of heated discussion, Wei Wuxian reluctantly agrees to co-ride with Lan Wangji on Bichen, his sword. “Xiao Pingguo’s not fast enough, apparently,” Wei Wuxian laments.

Soon after the group launches, snow begins to fall: flurries, at first, and then thick and heavy, swirling around the cultivators. Visibility is so low that a shot of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian slicing through the air makes it look like they’re all alone in the sky. Then, when the wind picks up, Lan Wangji slides one arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist.

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian huffs. “I can keep my balance.” (Doesn’t seem like his reluctance to ride a sword arises from any issues with heights.)

“If you were to fall in this weather, I would not be able to see you in order to catch you,” Lan Wangji says, implacable. Wei Wuxian doesn’t complain again, even as Lan Wangji draws him closer.

A few hours later, a dark splotch appears on the horizon: it’s the Burial Mounds, the resentful energy strong enough that it shows as a slowly-spreading ink stain against the blizzard sky. Closer in, it resolves into a landscape of sharp stone needles and dead trees.

“You said you have been here before?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Yeah. It’s a long story.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t give any details, leaving us to guess how he might have ended up hanging out at the site of the Battle of Yiling. Night hunt gone wrong? Searching for ancient cultivation treasure? Thrown into the Burial Mounds as part of some inter-Sect strife? “It’s not the sort of place you want to spend a lot of time. If there are fierce corpses coming out of there, well—sounds like just another winter in the Burial Mounds to me.”

Lan Wangji’s arm visibly tightens around Wei Wuxian, as if he can protect him from whatever terrible things he faced in the past. “Wei Ying—the other day, in the courtyard—”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian interjects, shifting away. “It’s not—I mean—look, I have my reasons for walking the single-log bridge instead of the broad, crowded avenue. But I don’t want anyone else to have to walk that path.” It seems like an apology, of sorts, for running away from their almost-kiss.

“And do others have no say in what path they walk?” Lan Wangji asks. He may be framing it in the hypothetical, but his meaning’s clear enough, both in the words and the intensity of his gaze.

In the falling snow, we can’t quite make out Wei Wuxian’s face, but I can imagine the expression he’s making. “Aiya, Lan Zhan, you don’t understand,” he says softly. “I’m not going to change my mind about my cultivation. It’s not a phase, I’m not going to pick up my sword and be the model cultivator people want to see. I’m unfixable, okay? And your reputation—”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn’t get a chance: his words are drowned out by a loud roar. When the camera pans down, it shows—to steal a phrase from Lan Jingyi—an absolute fuckton of fierce corpses: hundreds, at least, maybe more, jammed into the narrow paths between the fang-like rocks. Looks like our cultivators are about to face their biggest challenge yet!

Day 36. 4:58 p.m.

Somehow, in the chaos of battle, the cultivators have been separated into two groups: Team Competence Porn, and Team Two Juniors, a Demonic Cultivator, and that One Guy Whose Personality is Worse than Getting Dog Shit on the Bottom of Your Shoe. (Ah, that’s unwieldy; let’s go with Team Shut up, Su She.)

Lan Wangji, Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang are ably slashing-and-guqin bashing their way through a clearing filled with fierce corpses, managing to work in tandem with only a few words of consultation. Lan Wangji swaps his guqin for Bichen at one point, and swirls gracefully between the corpses, the white sweep of his sleeves writing invisible calligraphy in the snow-filled air. Team Competent seems to be making good use of Wei Wuxian’s talismans, too—at one point Wen Qing freezes a whole batch of corpses, then uses a strategically-aimed explosion talisman to push them straight onto Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji’s swords.

“Where are the others?” Lan Wangji asks, during a slight breather in the fight. It seems like he was fighting solo for a bit before he met up with the two women.

“Wei Wuxian went with the juniors,” Wen Qing says. “It’s fine, he won’t let them get hurt.”

“And Su She?”

“Haven’t seen him since we got here,” Luo Qingyang says, shrugging. “He’s probably holed up somewhere away from the fight, so he can show up at the end and make up something about taking care of half the fierce corpses by himself.”

In fact, Su She is with Wei Wuxian, Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi, his guqin out and blaring Sound of Vanquish. It doesn’t sound quite as good as it does when Lan Wangji plays it—there’s something kind of off about the chords—but at least he’s trying? Which is more than both I and Luo Qingyang were expecting, so I’ll overlook the dramatic I’m in a rock band gestures he’s using while he plays the battle song.

Nearby, Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are mopping up the corpses left by Wei Wuxian—who is, finally, showing what he can do with that dizi. His frenetic, maddening song has most of the corpses under his control: they turn to fight one another, or bare their throats for Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling’s blades, and in some cases simply drop to the ground, transformed from fierce corpse to just-a-corpse.

The problem is, though, that there are too many of them, and not enough Wei Wuxian. Whenever he gets distracted by making sure the two juniors aren’t overwhelmed, some of the corpses escape the power of his song, and every time he finishes clearing out one wave, there’s the roar of another group approaching. “They are seals, usually, that keep the corpses in here suppressed,” he mutters, as he holds Chenqing (that’s the dizi) at the ready. “But the seals are easy to break, even accidentally, and once you disturb one, they all end up broken. Don’t ask me how I know.”

Just before the next set of fierce corpses can make their stiff-kneed way through the gap in the rocks where Team Shut up, Su She is fighting, Jin Ling coughs, and spits out a mouthful of blood. A moment later, Lan Jingyi follows suit.

“What the hell?” Lan Jingyi says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My spiritual energy is gone!”

“Mine too!” Jin Ling says. The sword in his hand droops, and he looks both angry and extremely nervous. Su She seems to be fine—more than fine, actually; he looks extremely pleased about something—and Wei Wuxian hasn’t coughed anything up, either. He doesn’t waste any time discussing the whys or hows of this mysterious situation, though; he just directs the other three to follow a path between the rocks. “There’s a big cave there, with a repelling array,” he says. “I’ll hold them off and follow after you.”

Su She looks like he might argue about this, for some reason, but Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi pull him along, slipping between the rocks and out of sight. When they’re safely away, Wei Wuxian stops his song and turns to run, firing off the purple lotus signal flare as he goes. (I feel like he wouldn’t have done it if it was just him in trouble—Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem like the type to ask for help for himself—but Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi are a different story. I doubt he wants to explain to his jiejie how her son got swarmed by fierce corpses.)

The cave in question isn’t just a bare hole in the ground: it was inhabited at some point, with the remains of a straw bedroll in one corner and strings of talismans that look like they were inked in blood dangling from the walls. And I thought the Blood Pool was an invention of Wei Wuxian’s, but the camera catches a glimpse of a pool near the back filled with something too dark to be water. It’s understandable that Wei Wuxian looks a little ill as he enters the cave—whatever the reason he was here, it’s definitely not the sort of place you look forward to revisiting.

He quickly activates the array that’s etched on the stone floor, and has the other three sit in the centre. “They won’t be able to come in now,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Still drained,” Lan Jingyi says, panicky. “Wei-qianbei, do you think it’s permanent?”

“I’m not sure, Jingyi. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you two eat anything weird? Or drink the water in the Burial Mounds?” Both shake their heads, and Wei Wuxian looks up at Su She, who doesn’t bother to drop the smug expression.

“You aren’t affected,” Wei Wuixan says. “Why?”

“Neither are you,” Su She says, wiggling his eyebrows in what I think is meant to be a gotcha-type expression. “I might ask you the same thing, Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Wangji flies into the cave on Bichen, dropping onto the array with a hasty dismount. Because this is Hanguang-jun we’re talking about, it’s all still extremely elegant. “Wei Ying. We saw the signal flare,” he says. “Is everything alright?”

“Lan-zhangbei! Our spiritual energy is gone!” Lan Jingyi yells, pointing to the dried blood on his lip. There’s a pause while Lan Wangji stares at Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling, and then slowly, slowly, turns to stare at Su She.

“The Collection of Turmoil,” he says, in a low voice, whatever that means. Su She meets his eyes, unblinking. “Jingyi. Was Su She playing Sound of Vanquish?”

“Yes?”

“Did he play it properly?”

Lan Jingyi shakes his head. “Uh—well—not so much, really. I mean, I didn’t say anything because there’s no polite way to say dude your guqin playing sucks—no offence, Su-xiansheng—but it was like—bum bum bum da da dum …” He cuts off partway through his recreation of the battle song. “Wait. Lan-zhangbei, are you saying that Su-xiansheng did this to us?”

Su She doesn’t deny it. In fact, he seems happy that Lan Wangji has discovered his treachery. “I was testing a theory,” he says, unbearably self-righteous. He points at Wei Wuxian, voice rising triumphantly. “And I was right. The spell to drain spiritual energy doesn’t work on him. It doesn’t work on him, because he doesn’t—”

Then the silencing spell hits.

“You are not qualified to talk about him,” Lan Wangji says, icy.

Behind him, Wei Wuxian’s jaw is on the ground. I mean, it’s literally on the ground, because as soon as Su She started to speak, Wei Wuxian was leaping for him, as if he might get there in time to clap a hand over his mouth. He rolls onto his back and stares up at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan,” he says, trying for a lighthearted tone, as if this is a joke. It’s obviously not a joke. Nothing has ever been less of a joke to Wei Wuxian than the next thing he says. “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know what makes someone start cultivating on the ghostly path?”

Lan Wangji puts out a hand and gently lifts Wei Wuxian to his feet. “I would not wish to find out like this, Wei Ying,” he says. “And in any event, I already know.”

“You know?” (In the background of this shot, the very angry juniors have dragged Su She off to the side of the array and tied him up with the Binding talisman, before turning back to watch the unfolding drama.) “Did Wen Qing tell you?”

“No. I put the pieces together for myself.”

“Oh … I … well.” Wei Wuxian ducks his head, like he feels too exposed to meet Lan Wangji’s eye. “Well. Okay. I guess we should figure out what to do about these fierce corpses, huh?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji puts a hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and then, when Wei Wuxian doesn’t step away, slides the hand up to cradle his cheek. “It doesn’t matter to me that you cultivate on the ghostly path. You are a good man, and a good cultivator. You do not need to follow an orthodox path to do good.” He pauses, and looks at Wei Wuxian with the fondest, softest gaze I’ve ever seen. “Wei Ying, I like you. I like you so very much, and I want to—”

“Lan Zhan, no, you can’t,” Wei Wuxian says, even as his own hand steals up to cover Lan Wangji’s. There are unshed tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes. “Look at him.” He gestures to Su She, quivering with silent irritation at the edge of the array. “He cares. Everyone cares. The entire cultivation world cares. You think I don’t know what they say about me? About the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation? Of course it matters. You’re a Lan of Gusu Lan! A model cultivator! You’ve got a spotless reputation, everyone looks up to you. You can’t throw all that away for—well. You can’t, Lan Zhan.”

And then—oh my god—Lan Wangji says, “Wei Ying. Listen to me. I would rather walk a single-log bridge with you than the broadest road without.”

“Oh. Oh, Lan Zhan—” and then they’re kissing, oh my god. Oh my god, Lan Wangji has backed Wei Wuxian up against the wall of the cave and is kissing him ferociously. I almost can’t watch, because it’s such a personal moment, but also I am definitely watching.

“Finally!” Lan Jingyi says, doing a jaunty little celebratory dance. When Jin Ling gives him a skeptical glance, he shrugs. “What? I’m excited! They finally got together!” I think Lan Jingyi and I might be kindred spirits. Call me, Jingyi? Meanwhile, Su She is boggling at this, clearly stricken by how badly his plan has backfired.

Just then Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang burst into the cave, looking a little more harried than the last time we saw them. “So we’ve got—” Luo Qingyang starts to say, but stops when she spots Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji kissing, the silenced Su She (turns out that Lan Wangji was on Team Shut Up, Su She all along), and the boggling juniors. “I guess we missed something,” she says, dryly.

“We’ve still got hundreds of fierce corpses out there, so maybe you could postpone the makeout session?” Wen Qing adds.

Wei Wuxian steps away from Lan Wangji with a laugh—it’s obvious that he’s gloriously, ebulliently happy, and even the presence of an overwhelming number of fierce corpses can’t bring him down—and immediately starts stripping off his outer robes.

“Maybe not the time for that, either,” Wen Qing says, raising one eyebrow, but he just shakes his head at her.

“Very funny, Qing-jie.” He bites the edge of his thumb and uses the resulting blood to sketch out a spirit-attraction talisman on the white front of his innermost robe. “The fierce corpses will focus on me,” he says, “so you two can take the juniors out. And him, I guess” (pointing to Su She). “Then I’ll draw them all into the cave—”

“Wei-qianbei!” Lan Jingyi protests. “That’s so risky!”

“Lan Zhan can protect me. Right?” He smiles back at Lan Wangji.

“Mn.”

“And then”—the shot cuts away, and now we hear Wei Wuxian in voiceover as the things he’s describing come to pass, Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang leading the two juniors and a humiliated Su She out as the corpses descend single-mindedly on Wei Wuxian, while he uses the dizi to keep them from getting too close and Lan Wangji makes quick work of those that slip through—“once they’re all in, Lan Zhan and I will slip out the back way.”

The back way turns out to be a narrow crack in the rock, half the width of a man, that Wei Wuxian pries open with resentful energy so that it’s just wide enough to slip through. “With the fierce corpses stuck in there, it’s simple. I’ll just make the cave go”—standing on a rock pinnacle away from the back exit, Wei Wuxian lifts one hand in the air, and brings his fingers together—“boom.”

The ground rumbles, and Wen Qing, Luo Qingyang and the other three watch from a vantage point on the other side of the Burial Mounds as the cavern slowly implodes, the rock roof collapsing inwards with a resounding crash. I don’t think those corpses are going anywhere soon.

“Well, that was impressive,” Wen Qing says, then glares at Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Day 39. 5:33 p.m.

So! After all of that, we didn’t find out Wei Wuxian’s secret. Lan Wangji knows, sure, but we don’t. But I’m okay with it, because, first, look—Wei Wuxian clearly didn’t want anyone to know, or at least he didn’t want it announced to the world on MangoTV. Second: Su She clearly did want it revealed, as dramatically as possible, and anything that thwarts Su She is a good thing.

And, well, not to get all sentimental on you, my beloved readers (although why would you be reading an Ouyang Zizhen recap if you wanted to avoid sentiment?) but what we actually got was way better than solving a mystery. Wei Wuxian wanted something very badly—if the way he stared up at Lan Wangji in that cave was any indication, extremely badly—and he thought he wasn’t allowed to have it. He thought there was something about him, something he couldn’t change, that made it impossible. Something that made him unworthy. And then Lan Wangji just came right out and told him: you’re enough. To me, being with you is worth standing up against the opinion of the entire cultivation world. (Honestly, though, not the entire cultivation world—after watching this show, I think Wei Wuxian is fantastic and if you don’t agree, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.)

Anyway, <wiping away tears> I just think that’s special.

Okay! I hear you all saying the show’s still happening, Zizhen! Which is true!The cultivators have returned to the watchtower, and with just a few days remaining to film, they’re down to six on the crew. Su She has been booted back to modern life, the trickery with Sound of Vanquish sufficient to have him unceremoniously removed from the show. “Good riddance,” Jin Ling spits. “That guy was the worst.”

It’s a sentiment that seems to be shared by the others, who all look to be having more fun now that Su She is gone. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in particular seem to be having a lot of fun, if you know what I mean.

“Lan Wangji is already planning to move to Wuhan,” Lan Jingyi whispers to the camera. He’s in the library, while in the background of the shot Wei Wuxian is sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap while they ‘consult’ a ‘book’ on ‘talisman design.’ (They’re kissing.) “It’s great. I’m so happy for them!”

Wen Qing is not quite so happy with this turn of events. “They’ve broken the wooden bathtub,” she says, exasperated. “Twice! The water flooded everywhere! And then Wei Wuxian’s ‘this’ll dry things right up’ talisman lit the room on fire!”

Day 41. 6:38 p.m.

The final night at the watchtower brings another feast. Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to try the chili oil—“You did such a good job making it, Lan Zhan! And it’s not that spicy!”—which makes Lan Wangji go as red as the oil.

Having tested his palate once, Lan Wangji then decides to try some of Wei Wuxian’s Emperor’s Smile. No exaggeration, one sip has him passed out face-down on the table. “Lan Zhan? Oh my god, no wonder he doesn’t drink,” Wei Wuxian says, as Lan Jingyi explains that Cloud Recesses’ three thousand rules include ‘no alcohol,’ which means tolerance is low among its graduates.

Suddenly, Lan Wangji pops back up, fully awake, and rushes out into the courtyard. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian yells, running after him. “Where are you going?”

When everyone gets outside, they find Lan Wangji with Bichen out, carving Lan Wangji was here into one of the wooden posts at the entrance to the watchtower kitchen. (Drunk Lan Wangji doesn’t go where the chaos is: he is the chaos.) The rest of the crew stares in shock, as Lan Wangji studies his handiwork with drunken appreciation.

Then: “Yeah he was!” Lan Jingyi yells, and everyone gets in on it — Wen Qing was here, Luo Qingyang was here, Jin Ling was here, Lan Jingyi was here, and last but not least: Wei Wuxian was here. A fitting memorial to a great season, I say.

Day 42. 9:40 a.m.

As each cultivator leaves the watchtower, they talk about their takeaways from the last six weeks. “I can definitely draw arrays on my own now,” Lan Jingyi says. “And some awesome talismans! Shifu’s not going to believe it.”

Jin Ling, who you’ll recall didn’t give a reason for coming on the show, also declines to talk about what he’s learned from his time at the watchtower. He does shrug and say “There were some good people here,” though, and we see him arranging to come to Shanghai and stay with Lan Jingyi in a couple weeks’ time and—gasp!—hugging Wei Wuxian.

“You’ll come up and visit soon?” he asks, and Wei Wuxian grins and scruffs his hair.

“Couldn’t stop me, A-Ling!”

“People say a lot of things about him,” Jin Ling says, in his final interview. “And some of it’s true, I guess. But those people can shut up, okay? That’s my jiujiu they’re talking about.”

Wen Qing is taking an entire wooden chest packed with elixirs and potions she made while at the watchtower back with her to Chongqing, while Luo Qingyang—who spends an hour trying to find her modern clothes, before realizing that they’re in “the qiankun pocket inside my qiankun bag, which seems like a good design element but anything that goes in there gets totally lost”—seems satisfied that she did what she set out to do.

“I’ve got stories coming out of this to entertain Mianmian for years,” she says, and if I can give my opinion, I’d say that she more than showed that unaffiliated cultivators can kick butt.

Last to leave are Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. They pause at the gate and look back at the watchtower, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, hands intertwined. Lan Wangji is now dressed in a gorgeous powder-blue wool coat over a white silk tunic, with Wei Wuxian back in his cute YJAS hoodie and ripped jeans. “Well,” Wei Wuxian says. “I definitely gave some advertising to YJAS. I don’t know if Auntie Yu will be happy about it, though … What about you, Lan Zhan? Did you get what you wanted out of this?”

Lan Wangji looks down at Wei Wuxian and smiles (he actually smiles! It’s beautiful). “No,” he says. “I found something better.”

“Lan Zhan! Aiya, you can’t say stuff like that, my heart—”

And then, while they’re kissing: credits roll.

This has been Ouyang Zizhen, your trusty recapper, for what I think we can all agree was objectively the best-ever season of The Cultivation World. I don’t think I’ll be getting over Wangxian any time soon, so come join me on Weibo to chat about them, and see you all next season!