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Lotus Pier had been retaken months ago, but the bulk of the Jiang Sect's new recruits had been needed in the war effort. With the villainous Wen Ruohan defeated and the war over it is finally time to get Lotus Pier back up and running.
A number of young cultivators tread through shallow water, planting lotus seedlings. Others are leading boats heavy with wooden planks through deeper channels. Still more are using that wood to repair raised walkways and construct buildings. A few are managing the recruitment of new members, looking for especially promising teens and anyone with skill in cultivation.
One man, pale and black-clad, is day drinking on his own in a patch of burned-out ruins at the back of Lotus Pier that hadn't been cleared away yet.
"Oh, it's the same at home, don't worry. The only thing people like less than the smelly trades is not having them." She looks around, clinging carefully to his robes.
Wei Wuxian makes noises of agreement.
As they go further they start seeing buildings that are clearly older and built in a time when Lotus Pier had a great deal of money to spend on architectural flourishes. Images of lotuses can be seen on every object that can be painted or carved, joined by a variety of other thematically-appropriate images such as fish and cranes.
They pass by the hospital garden. All of the paths are lined with railings, even the ones not crossing back and forth over the decorative stream. Benches and places to sit are everywhere. The garden extends all the way to the edge of the hill Lotus Pier is built on, giving the garden a view of the river as well as the sound of the small waterfall cascading down from the stream.
Beside it is the hospital itself. It's one of the rare two story buildings and has a flat but undecorated balcony over much of its roof.
There are cultivators walking around or meditating. Many have treated injuries while others are simply enjoying one of the nicer intact gardens. The population is heavily skewed towards young men between 16 and 30; the people hanging around in groups all seem to be visiting with their friends rather than family.
Wei Wuxian continues to point things out. Each step they take brings on a memory and Wei Wuxian flits between them. Often he thinks too long about someone he lost and goes silent for just a moment before jumping to the next anecdote like he's trying to outrun the thoughts.
She's seen that last thing before; she'll give him a gentle affectionate headbump about it when he drifts off. "Which place is your favorite?" she asks in one such case.