Chapter Text
They called him Yiling Laozu, after a folk hero associated with the town in the foothills of the mountains where he was found.
When the word first got out to the public, that hikers who ventured dangerously close to the mountaintop glaciers too early in the season had barely escaped being killed when a great piece of ice calved off from the glacier, only to discover the frozen body of a man trapped in the clear ice that was uncovered, it caused a minor stir. Ancient bodies were always a subject of fascination, and ice mummies in particular, but a body estimated to date from somewhere around the fifth or sixth centuries didn’t have nearly the cachet of, say, one from the Stone Age. Especially when most of the reading public outside of China had no concept of what that even meant; even most within China would only have the vague understanding that it fell within the chaotic period between the fall of the Han and the reunification of China with the rise of the Sui. The scientific community was more interested, of course, but the location was difficult to access, the accounts so obviously exaggerated…
Then the photo was published.
It was a beautiful image (and instantly made the career of the enterprising photographer who had taken it). The afternoon sun had set the clear ice alight until it almost seemed to be glowing, and at its heart was a beautiful young man, dressed in ancient robes and wearing a sword, so perfectly preserved that the viewer could be forgiven for thinking that he was only sleeping.
It was a sensation.
Practically overnight, an entire cottage industry sprang up for the thousands who wanted to come and see Yiling Laozu in his ice tomb. Historians and scientists alike marveled over the level of preservation – historians for the thousands of tiny details to be studied, scientists for the impossible level of preservation and the complete lack of damage despite the crushing pressure of the ice. Yiling Laozu merchandise appeared throughout the world – to say nothing of the sudden emergence of Yiling Laozu-themed fiction that swiftly swept through the publishing world. Some of it was even readable.
The trouble started almost immediately.
For one thing, the town of Yiling was a small rural settlement, less than five thousand even at its peak and swiftly depopulated in recent years as most of the younger generations struck out for the cities in search of employment. It had neither the infrastructure nor the human resources to host the vast numbers of tourists expecting food and lodgings and entertainment – and many of the townspeople, who had taken the discovery of Yiling Laozu to heart with proprietary pride, were offended by this sudden invasion of tourists come to gape at him.
In addition, the glacier where Yiling Laozu rested was high and largely inaccessible, with no easy path to reach it. There was also the ever-present danger of rockslides and avalanches, especially because it was so close to where the ice advanced and retreated every year, wearing away at the sides of the mountain. It was not long at all before several groups had needed to be air-lifted out after accidents or simply getting lost, and finally several deaths forced the authorities to crack down – somewhat effectively – on expeditions up the mountain.
More concerning to the scientific community were the observations about the rapid degradation of the glacier, both due to human passage and due to the fact that the newly exposed ice, lacking the protective cover of white snow and exposed to the sun for much of the day, was beginning to melt. There were even concerns raised that, given that the clear ice meant the sun’s rays could easily reach through it to the man’s body, he might begin thawing inside the ice before the ice itself had time to melt. A reflective cover was quickly set up to attempt to stall the process, while debates and arguments raged between proponents of leaving Yiling Laozu in place and those who wanted him removed from the mountain to a place where he could be safely preserved and more easily studied.
Ultimately, the argument for careful removal won out – largely because an expedition sent to assess the condition of the ice discovered that someone had attempted to crudely chisel their way through the ice while the world argued, and everyone was forced to agree that attempting some sort of security arrangement in such a remote location to prevent a repeat attempt would be both impractical and likely ineffective.
Having the prestigious Cloud Recesses University take responsibility for the project helped settle any remaining objections – especially from the people of Yiling, who had been bristling at the thought of their Laozu being locked away in the vault of some foreign university. Even if, realistically, the Cloud Recesses were equally inaccessible, especially to simple farmers.
The entire process took months, with careful cores being taken from the ice for dating and to assess the structural integrity (as well as looking for some explanation for the impossible level of preservation), and then the painstaking process of carving out the piece of ice holding Yiling Laozu without causing any more damage to the glacier or the mountain than absolutely necessary. To say nothing of then transporting the massive piece of ice safely to the university and its specially-built, thermally-controlled storage facility. Ultimately, the transport had been handled using military transport helicopters, to the wagging of more than a few tongues.
Once Yiling Laozu was safely in place, of course, the debates continued. Most of the public wanted Yiling Laozu on display, open for human eyes to wonder at. Researchers wanted more restricted access – but access, to study and make detailed observations through the ice. And, of course, there were always the voices arguing that now that the body was safely in a research facility, where modern preservation methods could take the place of a fluke of nature, it should be thawed and opened up to more invasive studies, so that the man’s belongings could be catalogued and studied in more detail, and the body itself could be assessed for information about ancient life, diet, grooming – and, of course, the mystery of its preservation.
When the university announced the decision to thaw Yiling Laozu, the international community exploded.
Accusations began pouring in that the decision to remove him from the glacier had never been more than a ploy to side-step the stakeholders who wanted the man preserved as he was. Yiling Laozu fever was still running high – it had even gained momentum, to the point that a Yiling Laozu convention had been organized and had met for several years in a row, first in Yiling and then in the town of Caiyi, near the university. Within less than a day of the announcement, the first protestors started gathering outside the university gates. Their numbers quickly swelled, with people flying in from across the globe to participate. Perhaps unsurprisingly, many were young women (and a not insignificant number of young men) drawn to the fairytale romanticism of a beautiful prince sleeping inside an eternal prison of ice.
But not all of them. The town of Yiling sent a formal delegation to protest the university’s decision, arguing that they had only agreed to Yiling Laozu’s removal to ensure his protection, and accusing the university of acting in bad faith. Many people in the scholarly community objected as well, with historians pointing out that, given the extensive documentary and archaeological evidence available for the time period in question, there was very little to be gained by conducting more invasive and potentially destructive research – especially in light of Yiling Laozu’s uniqueness and the historical, cultural and aesthetic value of preserving him as he was. A petition even began making the rounds to declare World Heritage status for Yiling Laozu, to ensure his continued preservation.
Lan Wangji strongly suspected that his uncle’s determination to go ahead with the plan to thaw Yiling Laozu had a great deal to do with the latter argument. A scientific argument, he might have accepted – after all, Lan Qiren had frequently expounded at length over the limited inferences one could draw from a unique specimen. But to have his decisions questioned on the basis of inherent cultural and aesthetic value? And not even by scholars, but by international bureaucrats, many of whom had not the least actual interest in Chinese history and heritage?
That smacked of romanticism. The one thing guaranteed to drive Lan Qiren to a raging fury.
To be honest – and Lan Wangji tried to be, not only with the spoken word but with himself as well – he harbored certain unfilial suspicions regarding why his uncle had seen fit to include him in the select group of researchers allowed to be present for the final thawing process. Oh, on paper he was a “Historical Culture and Language Expert,” present in case questions should come up regarding the relative importance and cultural significance of the things Yiling Laozu carried on his person, should the thawing process destabilize something beyond viable preservation. His degrees in history and literature did technically qualify him for the role. Technically.
He knew that many of the archaeologists, bioanthropologists, scientists and technicians on the team thought his inclusion was nepotism, although at least most of them did not seem to hold that against him. And he would grant the point. His uncle was enough of the old guard to consider the inclusion of his nephews as his just due as head of the project. Personally, however, Lan Wangji strongly suspected that this was another of his uncle’s ongoing attempts to rebuke him for not only pursuing the barely acceptable fields of history and literature, but daring to delve into a secondary degree in folklore.
Suffice to say that his uncle had had opinions when that carefully not-mentioned detail had come to light.
“Cultivators! Ghosts and giant monsters! Magic powers! Immortality! Superstitious wish-fulfillment nonsense!”
Still. For all he had mixed feelings about the project – and his inclusion in it – Lan Wangji felt that he should be here. If Yiling Laozu was to die a second death of sorts today, removed from the strange stasis of his preservation in the ice, then he deserved at least one person present who was thinking of him as a human being who had once lived and breathed, rather than as a priceless historic specimen.
Two people, he corrected himself, feeling skinny fingers close on the sleeve of the lab coat everyone was required to wear, even though they were all in a separate observation room next to the lab where the procedure was actually taking place.
“You don’t have to stay if you do not want to,” he said quietly.
Wen Yuan shook his head fiercely, although his distress was obvious from the way his lips were pressed together in a thin, uneven line. Not surprising. Truth be told, Lan Wangji had wondered whether or not to even mention his uncle’s invitation for the boy to attend – which was absolutely nepotism, given that technically Wen Yuan was nothing more than a local high school student and the ward of one of the university’s medical researchers who was assisting in the project.
He knew his uncle had extended the offer as a favor, a unique opportunity for the orphan Lan Wangji was mentoring to be involved in an important scientific project. But Wen Yuan was uncommonly sensitive for a sixteen year old boy. And he had a particular attachment to Yiling Laozu.
They had met when Wen Yuan was a silent ten-year-old, newly handed over to his cousins’ care and still processing the death of the grandmother who had raised him. He’d stumbled across one of Lan Wangji’s papers on the development of meditative practices and belief in Daoist immortals and had reached out with questions. By the time that he had entered high school, he was a regular visitor at the university, and happily spent his summers as Lan Wangji’s research assistant. Which, in recent years, had involved delving into the fascinating lore of Yiling Laozu – both the ice man and the folkloric hero – and recording observations of the man himself in an effort to narrow down his time and place of origin.
They had spent hours together with the man in the ice. On some level, Wen Yuan had come to think of Yiling Laozu as a companion in their journey to explore this lost fragment of the past. As Lan Wangji had.
Still. The boy deserved to make his own choices, and when the offer had been presented, he had insisted on attending with Lan Wangji. But Lan Wangji could easily see the conflicted look in the boy’s eyes when they flickered towards the large viewing window looking into the lab where the de-icing procedure would take place.
When Yiling Laozu had been found, he’d been upright in the ice. It had given him an ethereal quality, an illusion of being poised in midair like a Daoist immortal from the sacred gardens of Mount Kunlun, with the long banner of his hair, tied in a high tail but otherwise left loose, flowing in a slow waving arc down the length of his back.
But, of course, the nature of the pose meant that the ice block they’d cut around him was taller than it was wide or thick, and to minimize the risk of it falling, outside of a special display when Yiling Laozu first was brought to the museum, he was always stored and transported with the ice laid flat, effectively on his back.
Still striking. Still ethereal. But somehow much more fragile seeming.
And, lying on the specially designed table meant to carefully wear away the ice, he looked… very alone.
Although Lan Wangji suspected he and Wen Yuan were the only ones to think so. In fact, he had the feeling that when choosing his project team, his uncle had quite deliberately selected team members for their disinclinations towards sentimentality.
Which only made him more determined to be here. It seemed Wen Yuan felt much the same.
The intercom connecting the observation room to the lab turned on. “Everything looks like it’s in order,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m going to turn the conductor on now.”
Lan Wangji turned his attention to the large observation window and the lab, where his brother was carefully adjusting the controls on the heating elements that would be used to remove the last layers of ice while – if the design created by the project team was successful – leaving the body inside untouched. Eventually the thaw would be completed, of course, but everyone had agreed that pausing after the removal of the external ice for closer observation of the intact body first would be preferable.
Which presented the same logistical challenge as when Yiling Laozu was in the glacier: the danger that his body would begin to thaw before the ice melted. They’d tried to compensate by cutting away as much of the ice as possible, leaving only a thin final layer in place, barely a centimeter thick. And they were attempting to remove the remainder using low heat and direct contact with the ice, rather than risking any radiant heat reaching the darker material of the man’s clothing.
For several long minutes, nothing happened. Having expected as much, Lan Wangji clasped his wrist behind his back and simply breathed, calm and steady – a habit picked up from his uncle, ironically enough, but one that had stood him in good stead in countless long lines, public transit stations, and intimidating his dissertation committee. Not that the last had been intentional, exactly, but apparently long still patience made him… difficult to question.
Wen Yuan, he was amused to note, had picked up the habit as well, although his eyes remained locked on the window, as if by staring intently enough he would be able to see the incremental melting of the ice.
The procedure had been going for about half an hour when unexpectedly, Lan Xichen made a signal, frowning.
“Xichen? What is it?” Lan Qiren asked.
“Maybe nothing,” Lan Xichen replied, after hesitating a moment too long. “I’m just going to take a closer look.”
Everyone in the observation room tensed. This was, after all, the most delicate point. If it wasn’t going to be possible to remove the ice without beginning to thaw Yiling Laozu, they would have to move very quickly to preserve some of the data they wanted. The cellular damage caused by the freezing process meant that once the ice thawed, the damage would spread rapidly.
Lan Wangji glanced at Wen Yuan. “Leave if you need to,” he told the boy quietly.
Wen Yuan shook his head. “No, I want to stay…”
Lan Wangji wasn’t certain what caught his attention – a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, a hint of sound, a flash of intuition.
He looked up to see Lan Xichen slam into the window. Drop out of sight, stunned by the impact. Beyond, shards of shattered ice fell from black robes scattered across the floor as Yiling Laozu’s body tumbled off the lab table—
Twisted. Landed on his feet. Stood.
Piercing silvery-grey eyes flickered across the room, wary and confused.
Lan Wangji froze. Yiling Laozu was awake.
…Yiling Laozu was alive.