Chapter Text
“Let me see.”
A sharp voice cut through the murmurs. Lan Wangji didn’t bother raising his gaze. The voice came again, louder.
“I don’t care who you are or what you think, but if you want any chance of saving Wei Wuxian, you will let me take a look at him!”
This time Lan Wangji did glance up, if only to deliver a snarling look to the woman who had spoken. There was some faint flicker of familiarity in her features. Her robes were ragged, but she carried herself like one of the nobility would, her glare matching his.
…Wen Qing.
Wen Qing, the renowned doctor, the cousin of Wen Ruohan—
“Wangji. Let her look.”
Xichen’s voice floated through his ears, so soft it sent a sliver of pain through the tightness in his chest. Xichen must have noticed his hesitation, of course he noticed, because his fingers curled around Lan Wangji’s arm, pulling his limbs away from Wei Wuxian’s body.
Come on, there’s nothing you could have done, it’s alright, it’s alright…
Lan Wangji began to struggle against his brother’s grip. He twisted, trying to claw at Xichen’s arm, to break free, but his own body was barely responding to him.
Xichen didn’t understand—didn’t they understand? Wei Wuxian was dead—
A whispered groan slipped through the silence.
All this time, ever since he’d failed to find Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat, it had felt if a thick blanket had been smothering him, only to be ripped away by the power of that small noise slipping from Wei Wuxian’s throat.
Xichen’s grip on him fell away, but Lan Wangji remained frozen. He simply blinked, gasping as the world around him eased back into focus. Sounds sharpened. Cold raindrops peppered against his cheeks. They mingled with a few warm tears that must have slipped out.
Impossible…
He heard Wen Qing shouting orders—blankets, hypothermia, barely a pulse, but his attention remained fixed on the shallow, barely perceivable rise and fall of Wei Wuxian's chest. The crowd around Lan Wangji quickly melted into a flurry of movement, brushing past him, and he shuddered each time someone made contact.
Barely a pulse. Hypothermia.
The words echoed through his ears, his own heart pounding. His mind spun with questions, one screaming above the rest. Yet he remained silent, watching as Wen Qing tapped Wei Wuxian’s cheek, clearly trying to rouse him.
“Wei Wuxian, can you hear me?”
It took several agonizing seconds, but Wei Wuxian’s eyelids fluttered, and Lan Wangji’s thundering heart seized in his chest. He watched dazed, bleary eyes catch onto his gaze, then shift Jiang Wanyin, still kneeling nearby, his eyes glistening.
“J’ng… Cheng?”
“Shut up,” Jiang Wanyin spat back. His voice shook. “Save your breath.”
Lan Wangji wanted to shoot him a glare, but that would mean taking his eyes away from Wei Wuxian, who had turned his head to the side, coughing. He moved closer, and a soft, small noise escaped his throat as his eyes fell on a streak of blood trailing from the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. His hand reached out but before his fingers could make contact, Wei Wuxian reached up, catching his wrist. It only lasted for a moment before his weakened grip slipped away, landing back on his chest with a small thud.
“Nnn… don’t…” he rasped. “Dirty… not worth it…”
Lan Wangji simply shook his head, pulling his wrist free to press his fingers against Wei Wuxian’s skin, gently stroking away the blood and filth.
“Wei Ying is worth it,” he murmured, his voice low so only Wei Wuxian would hear.
Wei Wuxian’s breath caught. And then suddenly he was struggling to sit up, his nails scratching against the flagstones beneath him.
Wen Qing’s hand knocked against his shoulder, light but enough to make him fall back. “Stay still.”
Her sharp gaze shot towards Lan Wangji. “Hanguang-Jun. We need to get his wet robes off and we need to get him some place warm. Now.”
Her voice cut through the fog like an arrow, urgent and sharp, and Lan Wangji felt his body jerk into action. His clumsy hands reached out and began to tug away the wet robes, pulling them from Wei Wuxian’s torso. They fell away to reveal sharp, jutting ribs, bruises that almost seemed to be pulsing as Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut. Tension arched across his jaw.
Then someone handed Lan Wangji a blanket, and he quickly wrapped it around Wei Wuxian, once more pulling him up against his chest.
And as Wei Wuxian slumped in his arms, trembling, the tight, invisible coil wrapped around Lan Wangji’s ribs loosened. His arms held Wei Wuxian tight; he felt the hot puff of the young man’s breath against his neck, shallow and shuddering, and his own shuddered in return.
“It is alright. You are safe now. You are safe, Wei Ying. It will be alright. I am here.”
He kept up the steady, quiet stream of words as he carried Wei Wuxian away from the murmuring crowd, away from Jiang Wanyin who still knelt on the ground, some unknowable emotion flickering in his eyes.
It wasn’t until Lan Wangji had gently laid Wei Wuxian down on a bed in one of the guest quarters, laying thick blankets over his trembling body, did Lan Wangji turn to Wen Qing.
“I could not find a pulse,” he said softly.
Wen Qing looked up from where she was lighting a brazier, giving him a short nod. “That’s not surprising. I could barely find it myself, and my fingers weren’t numb, as yours probably were.” She gave him a quick glance up and down. “You should get dry. Tell someone to fetch my brother—Wen Ning—while you’re at it.”
He hesitated, and she must have noticed, because her expression turned icy.
“If I wanted to hurt him, I would have turned him over to Wen Ruohan when Lotus Pier fell.”
Lan Wangji shook his head, dipping it down in a show of respect. “I apologize. I do not believe you would hurt Wei Ying. I…” He took a breath, his brows drawing together. “Even if Wei Ying’s heartbeat had slowed due to hypothermia, he would still have a spiritual pulse. I was not able to find one.”
Wen Qing looked at him for a long moment, her expression scrutinizing, almost like a hawk’s. Finally she sighed, and for a faint moment, her strong exterior cracked, revealing a glimpse of the exhausted, frightened young woman, striving to protect what little remained of her family. Her gaze flickered towards Wei Wuxian, now asleep and breathing deeply, a sort of softness creeping into the corners of her eyes.
“It’s not my story to tell. If you want an explanation, you’ll have to ask him. Now go. Dry yourself off. I don’t need the strain of anyone else collapsing at this conference.”
Lan Wangji nodded before turning to look at Wei Wuxian one last time, to reassure himself that the young man was still alive. The soft trembling had turned to more violent shivers, a sign of his body fighting to warm itself up. The blue tinge began to retreat from his lips; the slightest brush of color dusted over pale cheeks.
It was the most beautiful thing Lan Wangji had ever seen.
.
Wei Wuxian sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, fighting off the yawn that itched in his throat. He was still shivering, but the heat from the brazier, the soft blankets wrapped around him were helping to slowly return the warmth to his limbs.
The icy glare from Jiang Cheng did not.
Since the moment he’d jerked awake—fully awake, really, Jiang Cheng hadn’t taken his eyes off him, probably thinking of all the ways he wanted to yell at him. He remained quiet, though, sitting stiffly in a chair by Wei Wuxian’s bedside, watching him. Watching over him.
Something had flickered in his gaze when Wen Qing snapped at Wei Wuxian that he was lucky to be alive. His brows had furrowed, as if wanting to ask her why, but in the end he’d stayed silent. Still, it wasn’t hard to guess what Jiang Cheng might be thinking, every question that was just barely trapped behind his teeth.
Every question Wei Wuxian didn’t want to answer.
Wei Wuxian successfully stifled the yawn, then turned his attention back to the bowl of hot soup in his hands. The steam tickled his nose. His fingers trembled as he lifted the rim to his lips, gulping down a few swallows.
“Slow down,” Jiang Cheng muttered.
Wei Wuxian glanced at him, forcing a weak smile. “Aiyah, it’s just soup. I’m fine.”
But even as he said it, the words felt hollow. He wasn’t fine. His body ached, his head throbbed, and he was just… tired.
Tired of everything, really.
But Jiang Cheng didn’t need to hear that. His little shidi would only worry more, and Wei Wuxian didn’t want that.
“You always say that, and yet I don’t believe you,” Jiang Cheng muttered.
The room fell quiet once more, save for the occasional hiss from the fire. Wei Wuxian tried to take another sip of soup, but it seemed to stick in his throat, and he had to swallow hard to get it down.
At least they weren’t arguing.
A soft knock interrupted the silence. The door creaked open, and Wei Wuxian looked up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a figure in white standing in the doorway.
For a second, Wei Wuxian could only stare. Lan Wangji’s face was calm, as it always was, but there was something in his eyes—a softness tempering his usually sharp, piercing gaze.
He stepped into the room, his eyes flickering from Wei Wuxian to the blankets wrapped around him, the soup still clutched in his hands. His movements were precise, but Wei Wuxian could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed to stiffen. He looked worried.
Of course he does. I must look like a mess.
Wei Wuxian set the soup aside and cleared his throat, attempting to crack another smile, to clear some of the awkwardness from the air.
“Hey Lan Zhan.”
His voice came out quieter than he meant it to, a little raspier than usual.
“Mn.”
Jiang Cheng shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing between them, but said nothing. His expression was pensive, cautious—probably because he had no idea what was going on between the two of them, but to be honest… Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he knew himself.
“He’s okay now,” Jiang Cheng finally said. “Wen-daifu said he’ll be fine. It’ll just take some time.”
“Thanks to you,” Wei Wuxian said, tilting his head to the side and giving Lan Wangji a small grin, even as his chest tightened. “You found me.”
He still didn’t understand. Why couldn’t Lan Wangji just be angry, like everyone else?
Jiang Cheng shifted again, then abruptly stood, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “I—I’m going to go see if Wen Qing needs anything.” He glanced at Wei Wuxian. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
He slipped past Lan Wangji and out the door, but the tension in the air didn’t ease.
Lan Wangji looked as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. In the end, he stepped forward, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a lightness and grace that only a Jade of Gusu could achieve. Only then did he speak, his voice so soft Wei Wuxian barely heard him.
“I am glad you are alive. I did not want to… I could not…”
He blinked a few times, drawing in a breath.
“I could not lose you.”
Wei Wuxian blinked.
Those words echoed in his mind, lingering in a way that made him feel strange, like he was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. He had heard those kinds of words before, whispered between infatuated lovers as they hid behind a corner in secret delight… but never from someone like Lan Wangji.
Not to someone like him.
Especially not after… everything.
“Ah... Lan Zhan. I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian said, his chest tightening as he looked down at his hands. The blankets felt too heavy, like they were suffocating him, trapping him in this moment.
Immortal gods, I don’t deserve you.
“I shouldn’t have said those things earlier. I didn’t mean it.”
Lan Wangji shook his head, his voice steady as ever. “It does not matter.”
Wei Wuxian just let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his eyes stinging. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing was that simple.
Then Lan Wangji’s hand closed around his.
“Wei Ying.”
Not his wrist.
His hand, squeezing Wei Wuxian’s cold fingers ever so gently with a warmth that spread all the way to Wei Wuxian’s cheeks.
It wasn’t to check his pulse, to feel for a golden core that Lan Wangji probably already suspected was gone.
No, there was something hidden under that movement, something in that steady gaze. Something Wei Wuxian didn’t dare touch.
“You are safe now,” Lan Wangji said, his voice barely above a whisper—delicate, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile peace between them. “That is all that matters.”
Safe.
Was that what this was?
…Safety?
Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he’d ever felt truly safe, not since the attack on Lotus Pier, not since his world had started to unravel. Even now there was so much that could go wrong—the Dafan Wen, the Yin Tiger Tally, his golden core—did Jiang Cheng know?
But then he looked into Lan Wangji’s soft, golden gaze, and something deep inside him eased, letting in a rush of bone-deep weariness that left him dizzy.
Maybe.
Maybe, just for a moment—
“Yeah…” Wei Wuxian finally whispered, slumping back against the pillows, letting his eyes flutter shut.
“I'm safe.”