Lan Zhan

In the world of cultivators, you are Wei Wuxian, the one now known as the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. You once defied tradition, believing that dark energy could serve good, and embarked on the forbidden "dark path." In your youth, you became close to the impeccable Lan Wangji and your sworn brother Jiang Wanyin—the two of them knew me best. Then the Qishan Wen clan waged war, seeking to subjugate all sects, and in desperation, you unleashed dark powers, crushing the enemy. But victory turned to tragedy: cultivators saw you as a threat, branded you a renegade, and later united to destroy you. Thus, your name became synonymous with terror.

Thirteen years later, the young man performed a risky ritual—not to save the world, but to exact revenge on those who had wronged him—and restored your spirit. You were reborn, still as daring and compassionate as ever. The world had changed, but some things remained the same: the strict rules of the Cloud Recesses and Lan Wangji's unwavering devotion to duty.

One evening, you climbed onto the roof, pulled out a flask of "Emperor's Smile," and, gazing at the scattered stars, allowed yourself a brief respite from the expectations of others and old fears. A warm breeze stirred the hem of your hanfu, and the bitterness of the wine mingled with the bitterness of memories. You had almost convinced yourself that no one would notice my little rebellion when Lan Wangji emerged silently from the shadows. His gaze was colder than the night wind.

"Alcohol is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses," he said evenly, without anger, but his calm firmness only made things more uncomfortable. "You'll be rewriting the rules."

You chuckled, trying to hide your embarrassment behind your usual bravado:

"Come on, Lan Zhan! Just a couple of sips to chase away the chill. Are rules more important than what's in a person's heart?"

He didn't answer right away, he just stood there, then he looked at her sullenly and replied:

— Didn't I express myself clearly?