Chapter Text
4. Wei Wuxian
Wei Wuxian had seen enough of Cloud Recesses back when he was a reckless adolescent, and now, as an even more reckless adult, it is somehow worse.
This body does not have the virility his real one used to have, stature shorter and not enough meat in his bones. Let's not forget to mention that Lan Wangji had grown into his features, alright. If his face looked all scrunched up and a little adorable when they were teenagers and he used to glare at him like Wei Wuxian regularly spit in his bowl of rice, now that cold mask of his makes him look like a deity, and if Wei Wuxian was really a cut-sleeve past this body's weird reactions he'd be tripping over his feet.
So, everytime Wei Wuxian tries to run away, Lan Zhan or one of his little students catch him before he can make a single step outside Cloud Recesses. But Wei Wuxian has never been one to back down, and he will get off this damn mountain. He just needs to figure out how.
The Jade Token plan is not going to work. It seems like they keep those tokens tied to their necks, but Wei Wuxian just got an eyeful of the Second Jade of Lan, so he's hopeful they kick him out on principle alone.
Since he's already in the restricted area, he might as well look around for some scandalous Lan secrets. Like a chili pepper plant, or a single scroll with messy calligraphy. Gods, are the Lans boring.
He's going from bush to bush, lamenting how even the birds refuse to chirp out of tune with the Lan schedule, and maybe a little paranoid to be found. When he comes close to what seems to be an overly grown puddle, he cocks one head to the side. Cloud Recesses are surrounded by water, yes, but this one seems almost unnaturally placed.
There is no resentful energy, and even with his shitty core he can feel two strongly pulsating spiritual energies a few feet from him, near the small lake. Smiling way too big for the occasion he does a little cheer in his head. Pissing off two very strong cultivators is enough to kick a lousy man like him out of even the most barren of sects, let alone the Gusu Lan.
Skipping towards the lake, he very badly hides beside a tree. His purpose is to be found, anyways.
The two figures, one dressed in very soft blue that rises a weird nostalgia in him, making him think about hiding with Nie Huaisang among Lan Xichen's many fluttering robes, Nie Huaisang's soft reassurances that Xichen-ge would hide them followed by a teasing smile.
Lan Zhan might be his favorite Lan, but Zewu-jun is made from a softer cloth, and Wei Ying is surprised by how much he misses a laugh like his.
His mind laughs mockingly, because what he's trying to find in Lan Xichen was already packed lovingly in his Shi-jie, and it's not actually his smile Wei Ying misses.
Lan Xichen is draped in another robe, a deep grey that is no way his own. He's playing his guqin in about the same rhythm the breeze is playing with the grass blades, melody barely there but enough to bleed out some tension from this body's meridians.
Wei Wuxian has always preferred the dizi, as the entire cultivation world knew. The mellower, almost mournful tones of the xiao always weirded him out, and he liked a little sharpness to his sound, but Zewu-jun's playing is to another level, and Wei Wuxian, in all his shamelessness, is almost annoyed Lan Xichen is playing the guqin instead.
Closer to the lake, in only an inner robe and with his head lying in a bunched up cloud-patterned cloth which must be Zewu-jun's, is the bigger stature of Chifeng-zun, and while Wei Wuxian might not be able to see him past his long dark hair over the grass and his crossed legs, one who shares a battlefield with Chifeng-zun can know him by his breath alone. Wei Wuxian has fought for and against Nie Mingjue, and he's pretty sure he can tell the other man by a step.
"I do not understand why you've decided to play the guqin these last few times," Chifeng-zun's voice is conversational, but Wei Wuxian can see him rip out grass blades by his side.
Lan Xichen stills with his fingers on the cords, before a pause Wei Wuxian can't decipher.
"Clarity is best played with a guqin, A-jue. It's simply a small change," Wei Wuxian doesn't get the tone of voice Lan Xichen is speaking in, sad and raw in an uncomfortable way.
"Well I fucking hate the way you play the guqin, Xichen. If I wanted to see a healer, I wouldn't come all the way to Gusu. Do you wish to waste all our time together on pointless music?" Nie Mingjue is getting up now, his shoulders squared as if he's facing a ghost army on his own.
Wei Wuxian gets filled with a sense of re-lived rage, of all the swears and curses he had spewed on Lan Zhan's name back then. Guessing by Lan Xichen's carefully guided expression, he doesn't want to hear him respond.
He jumps up from behind the tree, and screams loud enough for at least three generations of Lan ancestors to shiver in their new lives.
"Aiya, so scary!" When both of them turn to look at him, there's not even a flicker of surprise on their faces, just anger in one and very-well hidden annoyance in the other. His presence has apparently given Chifeng-zun enough reason to forget his former grievances, and he turns to Zewu-jun with a scowl.
Zewu-jun smiled at who he thought was Lan Wangji's esteemed guest. Wei Wuxian sat on the grass next to his discarded robe, looking up at Chifeng-zun's face.
"This is a guest of Wangji's," Lan Xichen's words did not do anything to reduce the confused expression on Nie Mingjue's face, who turned to Wei Wuxian with a frown.
"This one is a prisoner, esteemed cultivator! Hanguang-jun keeps me here and feeds me vegetable broth, and while he is my type I can't take this mistreatment! I have standards too," He wailed at Chifeng-zun's feet, his annoyed expression a sign that Wei Wuxian is either about to have a very intimate meeting with Baxia, or that he's going to be kicked down till he rolls back to Lan Zhan's feet.
Lan Xichen's tinkling laugh made the atmosphere lighter, his billowing sleeve placed in front of his mouth like some shy maiden. Wei Wuxian would have scoffed in his head if he didn't know Lan-zongzhu was breaking his own clan rules being this open with them.
"I'll tell Wangji to treat you better, you are a guest of the Lan clan afterall," Wei Wuxian, even if not in his body, was being teased by Zewu-jun. What was happening? He had to go back to Lan Zhan's side and play the obedient dog, he was losing his wits up here.
"Since when does Wangji take in guests?" Chifeng-zun's gruff voice and very suspicious look made Wei Wuxian gulp. After all, other than Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan, the worst person to find out his real identity is Nie Mingjue.
Everyone knows how righteous he is, and while himself works with resentful energy, - Wei Wuxian looks at Baxia, who's on the grass next to where Nie Mingjue was,- he's known to be almost as harsh on his punishment of demonic cultivators as Jiang Cheng is.
Laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his head, Wei Wuxian turns around and prepares to book it down the mountain so he doesn't have to answer. Zewu-jun's voice freezes him in place.
"Wei-gongzi," The air around them freezes and Nie Mingjue's loud questioning is silenced by Wei Wuxian feeling his heart frantically beat against his throat.
"Wangji would never pay another person half the attention he paid you, Wei-gonzi," Zewu-jun's voice is like wind, and Wei Wuxian cannot even dare to face him.
"Won't you join us for some music?" Nie Mingjue's curses on Wei Wuxian's name being silenced by another makes him feel like a child. He was a grown man, and he could definitely face two other very powerful grown men in front of a nice lake before his thick face left him and ran uphill, which is what Wei Wuxian wants to do. So he sighs, and pretends to stroll over the two of them casually.
When he sits down, marginally closer to Lan Xichen in case Chifeng-zun was feeling particularly stabby, he clears his throat and looks at them.
"There is no need for an explanation," Zewu-jun's words are quickly answered with very loud protests from one and a relieved sigh from another.
"I think Wangji is perfectly capable of handling Wei-gongzi, whatever body he's in. I've left him to deal with you," Wei Wuxian bets his soul that Lan Xichen is offending him as poetically as possible.
"But this one wishes to make this clear, Wangji deserves better than you pretending he is a moron. Tell him, no matter if he knows on his own," Lan Xichen takes a deep breath, and Wei Wuxian feels a bit cheated at the lack of music.
"My brother has always lost his composure around you, Wei-gonzi. Do not make me regret the decision to let you around him once more," Zewu-jun's smile is still intact, but his words are as clear a warning as if he'd put Shuoyue to Wei Wuxian's throat. He looks at Nie Mingjue in hopes of sympathy, but all he gets is a raised eyebrow as the man sips some of his water.
Now that the ice has melted a bit, Wei Ying clears his throat and tries to get a few words in to save his trampled-on dignity.
"Well, it was Lan Zhan that chased me around! I wouldn't be able to go one town away before he was in front of me," Now they just sound like lovers quarreling.
"I'm sure that's the case," Chifeng-zun's dry tone and very important input makes Wei Ying snort unattractively. He always found Nie Mingjue's dry humor magnificent, even if he was the butt of the joke. Heh.
Lan Xichen sighs at them both before dragging the guqin in his lap again, only to be met with twin annoyed groans. Nie Mingjue looks like he's considering dying in his next battle just because he agreed on something with Wei Wuxian, and he loves it.
"Ah, esteemed Lan-zongzhu, Zewu-jun," Nie Mingjue looks at him with eyes that spell 'murder' in one and 'speak very carefully' in the other, Wei Wuxian's long buried self-perservation skills make a rare appearance, and he tactfully closes his mouth. It's not like Lan Xichen is a bad guqin player, the opposite couldn't be more true. But both Wei Wuxian and Nie Mingjue would rather swallow rocks than listen to 'Clarity' once more, and it shocks Wei Ying how he had to hide a body shiver just at the first few notes.
"Ah, is Zewu-jun playing 'Clarity' for Chifeng-zun?" His untimely interruption of the song shocks Lan Xichen into stillness, but he smiles and nods at Wei Wuxian anyway. That man has a patience monks would throw up blood at, thinks Wei Wuxian, who cannot stand still even with his life on the line.
Wei Wuxian doesn't know how to tell the man in front of him that while 'Clarity' is beloved by the Lan Sect, it's the equivalent of throwing the contents of a waterskin at a forest fire in this case of resentment. And he's the damn Yiling Laozu, how does Nie Mingjue think he hasn't figured out the saber secret?!
Sighing heavily like the world's on his shoulders, he throws his already weak shame to the wind and looks at Nie Mingjue.
"You know, Chifeng-zun, I'm owed a secret now. You know who I am. Let me ask you this, how long do you think you're going to live with that saber feeding off your rage, while you let Zewu-jun pretend to make a change with a method we both know works for no one?” He sees as both men freeze, tension tying through their bodies until they're both as taut as bowstrings.
Chifeng-zun looks at him, resentment and anger and burning regret in his eyes while his mouth only scowls. Lan Xichen has closed his eyes, head bowed in a way that vaguely resembles defeat. Wei Wuxian is surprised at how much he hates that look on him.
“No reply? Well, as you both know and have tried to kill me for in the past, I wrote the book on demonic cultivation. So, with all due respect Chifeng-zun, what are you doing?” Said man was now three seconds away from breaking Wei Wuxian's frail vessel in two, a risk that he easily dodges by moving slightly closer to the First Jade of Lan, who is so choked up in premature grief he doesn't even notice.
Wei Wuxian could have been more careful than this. He could have demanded he speak to Nie Mingjue alone, differences aside for the purpose of keeping said man alive. Something tells him that wouldn't have been enough to keep the skin on his back.
Because Nie Mingjue was strong, because he was stubborn, because he has signed a contract with death and evil as its only benefactors just as Wei Wuxian has, admit it or not. A man of his stature, with his current temper and the odd weeks both he and Wei Wuxian predict he has left, will not swallow his pride and not behead the Yiling Laozu where he stands.
So someone had to get hurt. It stings that that someone is Zewu-jun, now Sect Leader Lan, before Xichen-gege, when he was teasing Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng in toe, in pavilions filled with forbidden laughter and teenage rebellion.
Chifeng-zun, accustomed as he must be by now to his deviation caused wrath, miraculously decides not to kick Wei Wuxian down the hills, who doesn't even doubt for a second it's because of the muted expression in Lan Xichen's face, who is still almost artfully draped in Chifeng-zun's outer robes, his long hair melting into the muted steel.
“What do you want?” Comes a defeated reply, almost a sigh, from the strongest cultivator, strongest man Wei Wuxian knew, who brought shivers to the skin of all, in reverence or in fear. For the Yiling Laozu, it had always been a mix of both.
But he is just a man, Wei Wuxian realizes. A man who has probably spent the last few months of his life, subconsciously or not, equally preparing all the people in his life for his inevitable absence, and having to deal with the terror of having no control, no control over his reactions, his words, his death.
Seeing someone you hold dear change must be heart wrenching, Wei Wuxian thinks, as he closes his eyes for a brief moment and remembers Jiang Cheng's anger and despair, his own regret and need. He can't even begin to think of Lan Zhan, reduced to begging him.
But it hurts much more to change.
Wei Wuxian sighs then,decides he doesn't want to take this particular stroll down memory lane today. Not with its path laid in blood and grief and hurt out of circumstance and necessity alike.
“I want to help,” curse this fool's body, as Wei Wuxian's real voice would never betray him and weaken like that, nothing but a whisper at the end.
“Chifeng-zun knows I can, you both know I can,” He feels something knotted tight in his throat when it's not only Nie Mingjue staring him down, but a pair of warm brown, amber a few shades darker than his Lan Zhan's looking at him with what can only be barely rekindled hope.
“Let me do something,” Wei Wuxian thinks of blood splattered, he thinks of war, a big hand patting his shoulder after a successful but not-enough campaign. Wei Wuxian thinks of Nie Huaisang. Nie-xiong with his soft sceneries upon fans and his many silks and the weight of him clinging to his arm, giggling behind Lan Qiren’s retreating figure. He cannot let that man lose his brother, not like he did, not like Lan Zhan thought he would.
“Okay,” comes whispered with the wind from Zewu-jun. His eyes are closed again, and he looks weary and Wei Wuxian doesn't need to question why he answers instead. He waits for a reaction from Chifeng-zun too, though he doubts there's a single contradictory bone to him when it comes to Zewu-jun.
Instead of a reply, Nie Mingjue just sighs before sitting heavy next to Lan Xichen, arms crossed and brow in its permanent furrow. Wei Wuxian considers looking away when Zewu-jun's long pale fingers rub between his brows until Chifeng-zun's face is as relaxed as it gets. He doesn't, because he's as shameless as he was when he was a teenager.
Nie Mingjue opens one eye and lazily glances at Wei Wuxian, more in peace than this entire interaction, maybe the first time Wei Wuxian has seen him like this since before the campaign.
“What do you have in mind, kid?”