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Your arm stump no longer hurt as much as it did, neither does the wound on your stomach nor the burns on your other arm. Blood loss didn’t kill you, neither did poison, neither did Da-Ge. The physician, in an ambivalent tone, told you that you’re lucky to have survived. You suppose she’s right. So you await trial by the restless mob, thirsty for your blood.
When Lan XiChen visits you, you still greet him with a smile. You’ve lost everything but your life, so there’s still a chance. You don’t know how far you can get if you can convince Lan XiChen to let you go. You’ll figure it out. One step at a time.
“You arm…?” finally, he speaks, voice hesitant.
“Better,” you answer, “my thanks to Er-Ge for saving me.”
You allow the silence to stretch before you. You wait.
“Your trial is tomorrow,” he breaks the silence, and you draw your breath.
“You’re sending me to my death, Lan Xichen,” you tell him.
“I will insure that you are tried fairly and without prejudice,” he says, and has the gulls to look you straight in the eyes, pained but determined, the very image of compassionate righteousness.
It makes you angry.
“They’ll kill me,” you repeat yourself.
“You’ve killed too many,” Lan Xichen says, and you hope he was trying to convince himself, “you tried to kill everyone at Burial Mountain."
“And yet they lived. Look at me, Lan XiChen,” you lift up your bandaged arm stump, “my reputation’s in ruins, I’ve made myself an enemy of the entire cultivating society, there’s no more options left for me. What harm can I do?”
“You killed Da-Ge.” He says, quietly. You fall silent, but only for a moment. Guilt is something you would use against others, because it’s familiar.
You’ve had 10 years of staring at the head in your hidden room, you’d know.
“So I have,” you say, "but you’ve never believed in repaying blood for blood.”
“This isn’t my call to make anymore,” he says, in a voice that is neither cold nor weak. He’s made up his mind.
You’re angry. You know you’re wrong. And perhaps, in a just world, you don’t deserve to live. But this isn’t a just world, this is a world where people are made by who they chose to side with, and all you wanted was for Lan XiChen to be on your side.
"I am a bad person,” you say, quietly, "I’ve done many wrongs, but never have I done any harm to you. I was there when you were escaping from the Wen Sect, I offered my full support in rebuilding the Cloud Recess. All these years I’ve made protecting the Lan Sect’s interest as a top priority.” And yet, just like Nie MingJue, you won’t even let me live. But seeing Lan Xichen’s expression, crushed, tired, the final words never makes it pass your lips.
You think of A-Su, you think of Da-Ge, and how they died with hate in their eyes. You think of A-Song, you think of Wen Ruohan, you even think of your father. You think of how you’ve destroyed almost everyone who’s ever meant anything to you with your own two hands.
Was it worth it in the end?
You had lost a long time ago.
“I’m scared, I don’t want to die,” you say, and it’s not a plea for your life. You’re done pleading. You’re tired of it, tired of pretending to be weak when it is what you are.
He opens his mouth, and there are no words. You see him reaching out to you, his hand shaking, hesitant. It clutches your shoulder and the strength of it burns. He’s shaking and you’re shaking and your wounds burn, your missing hand burns, everything burns but Lan XiChen is here. He’s here.
There was a time, you remember, when you tried to be the person he thought you were.
“Er-Ge,” you call out to him, placing your good hand on his chest. The anger in you haven’t died, but you will not allow it to rule you. You will not use the last of your strength to hurt him. You were out of time.
“Do you remember the time at the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, before I went over to the Wens, when it was just you, me, and Da-ge, and we’d sit in Da-Ge’s hall and talk about the future?”
“Do you remember the evening the three of us made our vow of brotherhood. We used water instead of wine so you wouldn’t have to break your sect rule. Yet I said that I could have been drunk on ecstasy alone.”
"Remember when you would talk to me about WanJi, and I’d ask for your advice on raising Jin Ling. I’d excuse myself at curfew, but we find ourselves engrossed in another topic by the door and soon we find ourselves staying up just to talk about nothing and everything.”
Your throat tightens, and your eyes burn. You always try not to ask too much of Lan XiChen, yet he’d always be there. You hope that he could grant you this.
“Er-Ge,” you plead, hand on his chest, "I want you to remember me then.”
“A-Yao,” he says, voice hoarse, a promise made with all the faithfulness he possesses, “I will.”
“I will,” he repeats, hands wrapped around your own.
“Thank you,” you say, and you smile.
In the end, you're glad he’s here.