The palace is like a fortress on the inside as well, with no expense spared. All the floors are made from a glistening white marble, offset by a deep scarlet carpet that runs through all the hallways and corridors, opening up to each and every room.

Torches are lit at regular intervals, all burning with a mysterious white flame that brings the power of daylight into the palace, diminishing shadows and exposing all the spotless corners. On the walls, pictures of the Wen ancestors have been framed in gold and hung up everywhere, the wood of the frames carved into a likeness of licking flames tipped with red.

The Lan contingent is led through many floors, with the disciples in front gushing about how great Wen Ruohan is, and how lucky they are to be part of the Wen Sect.

Lan Qiren offers up polite noises that could be taken in either answer, or neither, not exactly agreeing with the tone of the conversation nor disputing it. They are fully inside Wen territory now, and it would be mindful to remember that. He's still bothered by the absence of the Wen Sect leader himself; at an occasion of such magnitude, him not being there to greet his guests, many of whom have travelled far and wide to make it here on time, is an insult to them, still a slight whether intended or not.

But he's glad to have met Wen Tang Changpu again.

They met for the first time ever when his friend, Wen Ruohan, had escorted his sister to Cloud Recesses for the guest lectures, way back when.

Aptly named the Sword Lily, Lan Qiren had taken her under his wing after the sword master in Cloud Recesses had suggested he give her private lessons. Right from the get-go, Lan Qiren could see she held a great mastery over her weapon, and he'd questioned why their sword master thought otherwise. Pu-mei had laughed and shyly admitted to feigning ignorance and pretending to fumble her sword techniques because she liked him in a romantic way, but since her interests were more towards healing than combat, she didn't see the point of pursuing her skills with the sword.

Lan Qiren remembers feeling flattered, but not much else, and told her that he did not feel the same way. They had parted amicably, meeting now and then, and exchanging letters infrequently.

The last time he had seen her was when the Lan Clan had been invited to her wedding, and they'd met briefly when Pu-mei had introduced him to her husband. That had been a long nine years ago.

After attending their marriage, Wen Tang Changpu seemed to step back from public life, choosing not to attend the Sect conferences, or go on night hunts. Lan Qiren is unsure of the particulars, but he had assumed she had followed through on her dream of exploring the medical side of Cultivation. He still often met with  Wen Ruohan, whenever one of the sects had a problem or they held such an event, but their relationship had become strained of late. If asked, Lan Qiren couldn't say exactly what had changed, but Wen Ruohan was definitely keeping his distance from his old friend.

Perhaps that could change at this conference. If Lan Qiren found a way to organise some time where they could chat over a cup of tea, that might clear the air of whatever dust bunnies had accumulated in their friendship, and they could return to the old camaraderie of the past.

The Lans have been generously given a whole floor in the East wing to themselves.

The disciples point out little golden bells hanging off a hook outside each room, and they explain that if anything is needed, the person should ring this bell and assistance would arrive as soon as possible. They are urged to ring the bell again once they have freshened up and gotten ready for the banquet to be held in a few hours.

“This is your room, Acting Sect Leader Lan,” the disciple bows and opens the door. “We thought, since many meetings go on into the night, that the children could sleep undisturbed here,” he leads them to another door inside the lavish room, where two beds are joined together. There are white sheets covered in a sumptuous red velvet throw that could double as a blanket.

Both the rooms, not only the main bedroom, but the annexed children's room is the epitome of luxury. There is a white marble fireplace in both, and it's clear that the children's room is solely for sleeping because other than the bed and a dresser, there's not much else. But in the main bedroom, there's another room that is fully tiled in white marble, with two huge tubs and a drainage system, and four red towels hanging upon golden hooks. It is a bathroom.

A privacy screen depicting a white pea-hen is folded to one side, and when they look up, the ceiling is completely mirrored.

There's a little marble-top table between two high backed chairs that look incredibly inviting, and a game of Wei-chi set up in mid game on top of it. A bookshelf full of the latest works on cultivation, meditation and improving one's health are taking up all the space, though Wei Ying’s eyes catch on a ball of red yarn. It looks out of place by itself, a different shape to the other contents sharing the same space.

“Well, I'll leave you to it,” the disciple bows and leaves quickly.

Lan Qiren begins rolling up his sleeves. “I guess that means bath time, children,” he says, pretending to chase after them.

Lan Zhan and Lan Huan have never seen this side of their Uncle, and they don't know what to do, but a shrieking Wei Ying soon shows them how to evade tickling hands and fast feet. Uncle Qiren wins and by the time they've bathed, the two younger kids are already falling asleep standing. For now, Uncle Qiren tucks them into his bed and then he and Lan Huan take turns with their own hygiene.

Lan Huan helps Uncle Qiren to lay out their special robes for this night, including the cute tiny silk embroidered hanfus for Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, all white with several layers and their cloud motif embroidered with a golden thread all along the hems and the tying sashes.

By the time they've dressed themselves and Lan Qiren has combed and styled Lan Huan's hair and his own, adorning it with a jade guan and pinning it with a cloud-shaped ivory pin, it is time to wake the rested children so that they can remain awake during what he knows they'll find an extremely boring experience.

But at least there will be other children present, he thinks.

Hopefully.

**************

A Wen disciple is waiting outside their room when Lan Qiren opens the door. They exchange greetings, and in a few moments, everyone is ready to go down to the banqueting hall. They are led down different sets of stairs and they begin to get a real sense of how large this palace is.

If it can accommodate all the sects, that's including Wen Ruohan and his inner disciples already living here, plus the main other four great sects, not forgetting the lesser known ones, it is a substantial amount of people to organise living under one roof, and doesn't even take into account the numerous servants it would take to keep a place like this running efficiently. Just the cleaning alone…Lan Qiren shudders at the thought, counting himself lucky that Cloud Recesses is relatively clean anyway and thankfully lacking volcanic dust.

It's a miracle they have not encountered any so far.

From what he can tell, Lan Qiren thinks they are in the central foyer now, a grandiose room with not two, but ten winding marble staircases leading to countless other floors, like they're in a pit full of deadly white vipers, their shining scaly bodies attempting to slither up the cavernous walls. Huge white solid marble columns hold up the roof and the other floors, stretching way up into the ceiling like silver birch trees, straight and tall and thousands of years old.

The Wen emblem of the twin dire owls is engraved by skilled workers, meticulously carving out each feather, and each glint of murderous rage in their eyes as they spread their wings, preparing for flight. This emblem is not gold. It is blood red.

Right in front of them, two gargantuan marble doors swing open, and the room hushes, as the people already inside it prepare for the newcomers. There's a collective sigh of disappointment as they realise the newest arrivals are not Wen Ruohan and his family.

The low hum of conversation continues as ten disciples come to greet them, and after bows are exchanged, they explain that the children's tables are situated in the centre of the room, while the adults will be on the periphery of the room. Lan Qiren pats Lan Huan, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan on their heads and watches where they're being taken. Only when he's satisfied that they will be seated in his line of sight does he follow the Wen disciples towards the Lan section.

Wei Ying looks around him, pointing out silly things so it looks like they're in awe of the grand room, and the Wens have taken every single detail into account.

The high ceiling is decorated with swags of silk chiffon in red, nicely balancing out the whiteness of the marble room. There's a thick and wide ring of red and white carnations, real flowers, not made out of silk, that circle the space where the ceiling meets the walls, and then yards and yards of red and white silk satin cascade down like miniature fabric waterfalls all around the room. It's a very dramatic atmosphere, designed to hold the occupants in a constant state of awe.

One wall is another engraving of the Wen Sect emblem, this one a peaceful gold fine line rendition, and under that is the Chief Cultivator's table.

Suitably decorated with a rim of matching red and white carnations, and covered in red silk velvet, this singular table stands out from the hundreds of other, smaller tables in this lavish, splendid room.

And it's empty.

Wen Ruohan is nowhere to be found.

Lan Qiren looks around in annoyance, because the self-proclaimed most important man in the Cultivation world is intentionally snubbing his guests. His Sect is hosting this event and he should be at the forefront in all greetings. It was bad enough that something called him away from welcoming his guests earlier, but his absence at a banquet held in a hosting capacity is inexcusable. He should have been the first one here, ready to speak with his guests.

Lan Qiren is not the only one of this opinion, either.

While the Lan Clan is expectedly silent, waiting for their host to appear, mutterings and murmurs abound around them, full of rumours and discord, all speculating where Wen Ruohan might be.

“I bet he's out on a night hunt, killing something really fierce!”

“Either that, or he's busy busy, if you know what I mean!” That comment is followed by raucous laughter.

Lan Qiren takes a deep, centering breath, aiming to calm himself.

It's going to be a long night.

***************

Unfortunately for Lan Huan, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, Jin ZiXuan and Jin ZiXun are already seated at their circular table.

Wei Ying counts fourteen places. Then he mentally puts a person in each place:

Wen Qing.
Wen Ning.
Jiang YanLi.
Jiang Cheng.
Jin ZiXuan.
Jin ZiXun.
Wen Xu.
Wen Chao.
Lan Zhan.
Lan Huan.
Himself, Wei Ying.
Nie MingJue.
Nie Huaisang.

Thirteen people accounted for. So who is the fourteenth child?

The Nie Sect are the next to arrive, and the children immediately come over to sit next to Lan Huan. While Lan Huan engages in a deeply thrilling conversation, catching up on everything they've missed together, Nie Huaisang hides behind his fan, a smaller one than what he usually carried as an adult.

Then, a purple flash catches Wei Ying’s attention and he stiffens, realising who the next people to join them are going to be. Jiang YanLi goes to sit right next to the Peacock, and his cousin, who openly sneers at them.

Wei Ying watches both of them openly, his heart in his throat because he wasn't sure how he would react upon meeting them.

“Wei Ying? Are you alright?” Lan Zhan whispers, reaching under the table to hold his hand tightly.

Wei Ying turns to him, his smile dimming slightly. “I'm…okay? It's strange because I was expecting myself to be more affected by them…but, I'm alright, Lan Zhan. I feel like I should know them because I did, once upon a time. But this life is a new beginning, isn't it? And to feel this kind of, I don't know, vacancy for lack of a better word, it's a relief.” His smile brightens as he understands himself better.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan also sounds relieved.

A new child, dressed in black, comes to join them.

His face is kind but unrecognisable, and he sits by himself, away from the other children, leaving two chairs empty on either side.

He must be someone important, Wei Ying thinks, because otherwise, why is he here?

Wei Ying, Lan Zhan and Lan Huan are by no means the only children from the Lan Sect attending this banquet; the other twelve kids are seated with the elders of their Clan, the same as all the other sects. This table that Wei Ying is sitting on is only for the important members of the clans, or significant children like himself.

But there's no time to reflect on this because a magnificent gong rings out, silencing everyone. Each person silences themselves, and then the grand doors open again, revealing Wen Ruohan and his wife walking into the room.

He certainly makes an entrance, slowly sweeping in to allow every single person to feel his aura, to bask in his presence as he walks forward with a greasy smile, his gaze wandering around the large room and lingering on none.

Behind him are his children, Wen Xu and Wen Chao, making faces because they're being made to sit on the table with the babies, Wei Ying hears the younger one say.

Of course, that's untrue.

The age range of those present is a mix of roughly nine years and five or six years of age, so calling them babies is extremely rude. From the way Lan Zhan’s mouth turns down, Wei Ying can tell he heard the sniping remarks.

Once they settle down, Wen Tang Changpu and her husband, Li Muchen, enter the hall.

Wei Ying feels irrationally restless, because he knows who is left to join them. Conveniently, the two spaces next to him are the only ones left for these last two children.

The adults make their way to their tables, and clear the way for an unobstructed view.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning.

They're holding hands as they make their way towards them, and then Wen Qing stumbles, catching herself just in time as her eyes meet Wei Ying’s silver ones. They're caught in a weird trance, even as Wen Qing tries to recover, and it's good that Wei Ying is sitting in her direct line of sight, because tears fill her eyes.

That's what gives her away.

Wei Ying is shocked, because if Wen Qing is crying, it can only mean one thing.

She knows.