Part 13 – Misfits

Between the best friend he’d ever had and his bullying tyrant of an uncle, choosing sides hadn’t been all that difficult. Even if Jiang Cheng hadn’t forced him to it, Jin Ling had been poised to take off after Lan Sizhui anyway.

The only reason Jin Ling had wanted to attend this stuffy discussion conference in the first place was to see his friends from Gusu and the other clans. But without Lan Sizhui there, it just wouldn’t have been the same. Lan Jingyi would be too insufferable, and the rest would have followed his lead. There was no chance Jin Ling wouldn’t have quarreled with them, and ended up storming off just the same.

No—no matter how he looked at it, Jin Ling would still be precisely where he was now, flying over the tree-tops searching for Lan Sizhui.

After a while, Jin Ling spotted him. Those white Lan robes stuck out like a sore thumb against the darkness of the wood. In his mind, he saw himself as a hero of sorts, coming to rescue poor Lan Sizhui from his exile. Jin Ling smiled to himself as he landed. What a good friend he was! Lonely and miserable, Lan Sizhui would look up from the place where he’d been sitting with his face in his hands and who would he see?—not Lan Jingyi, who’d done nothing but stare helplessly with his mouth hanging open, but Jin Ling, who alone among their peers understood how it felt to be orphaned and outcast.

But as he ventured forward, the soft sound of conversation filtered through the trees. Laughter, even! Jin Ling drew to a halt. Through the foliage ahead of him, he saw Lan Sizhui sitting on a fallen log, but he wasn’t alone. Wen Ning stood with him in the clearing, and they were chatting companionably together as always—as companionably as one could chat with a fierce corpse, anyway. Lan Sizhui’s eyes did look rather glassy to Jin Ling, but he was smiling—smiling!—as he talked.

Jin Ling frowned. He should have known. Lan Sizhui had a magnetic personality. Kind and courteous, with his quick wit and earnest charm, he was the sort who would never be lonely, even if banished, because others would always be drawn to him. Only someone as spiteful as Jiang Cheng would spurn him.

Lan Sizhui couldn’t be any more different from Jin Ling. Surrounded by extended family, blessed with every conceivable advantage from birth, he’d grown up the heir apparent to two esteemed clans. Yet for all this, he was a loner who felt sullen and out of place wherever he was.

As Jin Ling was brooding to himself, the two in the clearing noticed him at last. “Young Master Jin?” Lan Sizhui called out. “Is everything all right?”

Jin Ling flushed. At the polite concern in Lan Sizhui’s voice, he wished he’d never come here. But fleeing would be even more unseemly, and so he strode forward, briskly and almost angrily, even.

“You’re the one who left so abruptly back there,” Jin Ling said defensively. Haughtily, he peered down at Lan Sizhui as he came to a stop before the log. “So really, I should be asking that of you!”

Lan Sizhui blinked. “Oh,” he said, smiling a little. “I just thought…well, it seemed like I was making your uncle angry, so I thought it best that I should leave.”

“Everything makes him angry,” Jin Ling said with a scoff. “But he went too far, and I told him so. I really let him have it, just so you know. Then I took off to find you.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes widened. “Young Master Jin, please don’t trouble yourself over me. Whether I attend the symposium or not is hardly important. I’m just a junior disciple, but you’re a sect leader—surely your presence can’t be missed.”

Jin Ling’s mouth tightened. In the face of such sincere concern, Jin Ling couldn’t hide the truth that flashed across his features: that no one but Jiang Cheng was going to miss him. As Lan Sizhui’s expression turned apologetic, Jin Ling plopped down on the log in a huff of embarrassment. This heroic rescue mission couldn’t have gone any worse! He’d set out to console Lan Sizhui, and now he was the one being consoled. Even Wen Ning was looking at him pityingly—and he was dead!

“Of course, I’ll be missed,” Jin Ling snapped out, turning his chin up to hide his flustered reaction. “But it’s a principled stance I’m taking. If my uncle wants to exclude you from the conference, then he’ll just have to exclude me too!”

Lan Sizhui smiled, gentle and conciliating. By this point, Fairy had caught up with Jin Ling. Excitedly, she circled about his feet, whimpering as she climbed up to lick at his red face. Giving Wen Ning a wide, wary berth, she padded over to Lan Sizhui and pawed at his knee.

“Uncle Ning and I were going to investigate a disturbance nearby,” Lan Sizhui said. Scratching Fairy behind the ears, he turned to Jin Ling. “If you can spare the time, we’d certainly appreciate your help.”

Jin Ling perked, puffing out his chest. “Sure, I can help. Sounds like a better use of my time than some boring old conference, anyway!”

Mo Dao Zu Shi © Mo Xiang Tong Xiu