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Wei Wuxian wakes up to a dry mouth and a commotion outside. He groans, his body too heavy to even lift a hand to cover his face from the single ray of light that reaches this place. At first, he had been grateful there was any light in here at all, but now that all he wants to do is rest, it always seems to find wherever his eyelids are closed and shine brightly on them.
Funny, how even the sun in Gusu has an agenda to exact its own revenge. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be surprised if it came down claiming he had murdered its son or daughter in the slaughter like everyone else had.
Using the weight of his body, he musters up just enough strength to turn in bed and allow gravity to help him roll over, away from the light. Just the small action sends pangs of sore pain down his body, reminding him of all his new scars and injuries. Wei Wuxian coughs, and the commotion outside the door grows louder.
“Please--I beg of you, brother… just once!”
“You have used up your last favor long ago, Wangji… couldn’t if I…” Wei Wuxian can barely make out what they’re saying as his head fuzzies, a sudden lapse in consciousness making it difficult to concentrate over the ringing in his ears. “...I know what you’re going through… father and…”
He hears the sound of someone falling to the ground.
“Please…”
A third voice joins, louder than the others. “Let him go inside. It’s greater punishment than having him sit out here another thirteen years.”
“Thank you, Uncle, thank you…”
Dazedly, Wei Wuxian thinks ah, that’s right, that’s Lan Qiren’s voice. He’s in Gusu… for how long now? It feels as if it’s been so long since he’s seen another person, but it could very well be a result of how horrible he feels. Suffering has a way of drawing out time, after all. He should know better than anyone how long it felt like he had been trapped in the Burial Mounds.
The doors open with a loud creak, and Wei Wuxian tries to lift his hands to cover his ears, but all it does is jostle his position and send him rolling off the bed. He lands on the ground with a dry groan and a worrisome ‘crack’ from somewhere in his body. At the very least, he can cover his ears now, though his hands are shaking and too weak to clasp down hard enough over his ears to actually block out any sound.
It’s a good thing, he realizes, as soon as he hears that familiar voice say “Wei Ying!”
The door closes, and hurried footsteps rush into the room. He can only see the white shoes and ends of robes approach him before he closes his eyes again. It’s too blinding, as if the sun itself had entered his room. Like the sun, he’s warm , and Wei Wuxian reflexively leans into the gentle, smooth hands that wrap around his to pull away from his ears..
“Wei Ying,” the voice repeats, and he can only groan in acknowledgement as he’s carefully turned onto his back. He’s surprised to not feel the cold, stone floor against his scars but instead a soft cushioning on his back. It’s kinder than the horrid excuse for a bed he was given, and it would be so easy to fall back asleep right here, though.
Finally, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. It takes him a minute of blinking away the haziness lining his vision to actually make out the form of the person holding him. It’s not like he didn’t immediately know from his voice arguing outside the door, more passionate and angry than he’s ever heard him before. Wei Wuxian lifts the corners of his lips pathetically in something that he hopes might resemble a smile.
“Lan Zhan…”
His voice comes out even worse than he expected, and the same must be said for Lan Wangji who visibly winces at the hoarse sound. He wears his emotions on his face much more vividly now, Wei Wuxian thinks as he traces the red outline of the jade’s eyes up to the strained furrow of his brow. Even when he looks like this, face contorted in ugly pity, Wei Wuxian can’t help but think he’s still one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen. He’s a jade for a reason.
That’s why Wei Wuxian’s so ashamed when he suddenly falls into another coughing fit, spittle flying from his lips and marring Lan Wangji’s pure white face and robes with red. He had just been about to mentally wax poetry about how Lan Wangji appeared like an angel coming to save him, all pure and untouched and perfect, and he had stained him immediately. If that wasn’t a metaphor, then nothing was.
“Don’t speak,” Lan Wangji says hurried, as if he doesn’t even notice the blood on his cheek. “You’re very ill, Wei Ying.”
He wants to laugh. That’s the understatement of the century.
As soon as the two of them arrived in Gusu Lan after Wei Wuxian gave himself up, he had expected no simple punishment was in order. The whip lashes he had received were double Lan Wangji’s, and it’s only for fear of him dying right there did they hold off on the rest of his lashings. His punishments are scheduled out for years in advance to continue paying off the rest of the beatings he’s earned once his previous injuries heal. It took until his third installment for them to stop sending servants to change out his sheets; he’ll always bleed through them all. If he had to guess how many times he’s been beaten within an inch of his life, the most recent would be… something in the double digits, certainly. Maybe even past a hundred?
The fact that he’s still alive, even now, is a miracle in itself. Or maybe it’s a curse, given the quality of life he has now. The only time he sees people are when the sect members with masked faces come to administer his lashings, his meals delivered through a hole in the door. He hasn’t spoken except to cry out in pain with nobody else to hear or listen to him.
Except the one person who regularly kneels outside his door, the hem of his white robe almost reaching below the door.
“Bite this,” Lan Wangji instructs, lifting a roll of torn cloth to Wei Wuxian’s mouth. He doesn’t have any room to question him right now and simply does as he’s told, allowing the rag to be stuffed between his teeth. He has an idea what it may be for, though, and his fears are confirmed once Lan Wangji wraps his arms around his shoulders and knees to lift him up.
At once, every broken bone and scar on his body screams out in agony. Wei Wuxian shouts into the gag and bites down hard, tears spilling from his eyes from pure pain alone as his joints pop uncomfortably and his stitches stretch at the seams. It only lasts for a second, though, as Lan Wangji carefully deposits him back onto the bed and quickly lets go of him to not disturb any of the injured skin on his body that paints him black and blue.
It’s another few minutes before Wei Wuxian has stopped struggling and Lan Wangji removes the gag from his mouth, again smoothing sweaty hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry, Wei Ying,” he whispers comfortingly, running his long fingers through Wei Wuxian’s thin, dry hair. I’m sorry I can’t do more for you , goes unsaid.
It’s fine, Wei Wuxian wants to respond, though the words get caught in his throat. He knows Lan Wangji is the only reason Wei Wuxian is being kept alive, and the evidence glitters on his left ring finger every day. Wei Wuxian just catches a glimpse of the ring on Lan Wangji’s finger that matches his and feels his stomach churn.
Lan Wangji sacrificed everything to keep Wei Wuxian alive.
He isn’t a fool, he knows he isn’t being kept from execution by the Lan sect’s good graces. No, if they had their way, Wei Wuxian would have been immediately taken to the Nightless City to be drawn and quartered for everyone to watch and cheer. He would be tortured for long periods of time without end, maybe even held as public shows so each sect could have their turn until they were appeased. His body would be cut up into pieces, fed to dogs and pigs, and nobody would bother making him a grave.
But with a connection to Lan Wangji, he can’t simply be killed. Not if the two of them are wed.
At his side, Lan Wangji kneels on the floor, petting his hand through Wei Wuxian’s hair with fingers that are so gentle Wei Wuxian could cry--in fact, he thinks he does. It’s hard to tell sensation apart from hallucination at this point, the entire room spinning just from him being picked up and moved a few inches back onto the bed. Only the hand in his hair keeps him grounded enough to not throw up the measly meal he had been brought earlier today.
“Lan Zhan…” he croaks, and Lan Wangji immediately shakes his head.
“Don’t speak.” You don’t need to say anything .
Wei Wuxian has never been one to follow rules. With cracking joints and all the effort in the world, he manages to lift a shaking hand from his side. He can see in Lan Wangji’s face how he wants to hold it back down to the bed and keep him from hurting himself any more, but he doesn’t, allowing Wei Wuxian to reach out and touch the side of his face.
The backs of his knuckles graze Lan Wangji’s cheek. “What… are you crying about, silly?”
Lan Wangji blinks, surprised. Another tear rolls down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away before grabbing onto Wei Wuxian’s hands, carefully, as if it might fall apart muscle from muscle if he were too rough. His fingers curl around Wei Wuxian’s and he presses them closer against his cheek.
Lan Wangji doesn’t respond verbally, which doesn’t come as any surprise to Wei Wuxian, so he keeps speaking. “...what are we going to do… when my sentence is up?”
It’s a rhetorical question; Wei Wuxian will never be allowed out of here.
He’ll serve the rest of his life in this small room, sick and weak and being constantly held on the verge of death.
Even so, Lan Wangji meets his eye in understanding. “...travel,” he says.
“I can’t cultivate with you, Lan Zhan… what am I gonna do?”
“I’ll go with you,” he agrees, and Wei Wuxian smiles up at him. He weakly wiggles the fingers on his left hand to bring attention to the modest band around his ring finger.
“No divorce? Even when I’m free?”
He can see Lan Wangji hesitate, and then he nods. “No divorce.”
Wei Wuxian curls his fingers in Lan Wangji’s hand until they’re clasped together, palm to palm. “Don’t I get a say…? A marriage is a partnership, Lan Zhan… You’re a demanding husband to this sick wife.”
“...will you get a divorce?”
“I won’t get a divorce.”
Something changes in Lan Wangji’s face. His back straightens with a sharp, deep inhale, and his fingers hold tightly onto Wei Wuxian’s. They never had time to speak about their marriage, for however much it could truly be called that. Lan Wangji simply brought him to a temple they could elope in and instructed him to do as he said. Wei Wuxian didn’t question it, knowing Lan Wangji must have thought this through and was not some frivolity for the sake of true love or anything like that. It’s always just been a protective measure.
As soon as they were wed, they returned to Gusu, and have been separated ever since.
The fact that they are married has never been a point of discussion until now. They were never able to. It’s after this long can they dwell on the romantic implications of what they’ve done, and he knows the sentiment is swimming similarly in Lan Wangji’s head.
That, maybe, there could be more to it.
That, maybe, there already was.
Both of them had a long time to think--in fact, all Wei Wuxian has been able to do for the past however many years is think. He came to his conclusion a long time ago, unable to act on it, unable to do anything to communicate those strange, inconvenient feelings. All he can do is polish the ring on his finger and pray it doesn’t rust with his own dirty blood.
Beside him, Lan Wangji seems to have come to some kind of conclusion of his own. His face is swirling with emotions Wei Wuxian can’t identify, having been isolated from other people for so long. Trying to interpret Lan Wangji of all people after living in solitude for so many years is like telling a swordsman to recite the words of a great poet from only one read. He simply isn’t equipped with the faculties to remember and take note of its intricacies or flow. But Wei Wuxian thinks he still might know the words to Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Wei Ying…”
“Is that all you know how to say? Haha…” His sentence ends in another cough, and Lan Wangji finally lowers their hands back to the bed so Wei Wuxian isn’t struggling to reach him. Their matching rings glint in the single ray of sunlight in the room. Wei Wuxian continues to smile. “You might have just married me so I wouldn’t be executed… but, Lan Zhan, I--”
The door to the chamber opens.
“Lan Wangji.”
His head whips around, and Wei Wuxian thinks he sees his eyes uncharacteristically widen in horror. Lan Xichen is standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the bright light of the outside world. Like this, he looks more commandeering than Wei Wuxian could ever remember.
“...please, just one more minute--” Lan Wangji says, though he’s quickly cut off by his brother.
“Lan Wangji. You’ve had enough time.”
“It’s been thirteen years--”
“Go, Lan Zhan.”
His head spins around to look back at Wei Wuxian. He hasn’t let go of his hand, and from the look on his face, it doesn’t seem like he has any intention to, either. As tight as his grip is, he’s still shaking, and Wei Wuxian wants nothing more than to be able to reach up and gather him in an embrace. Like this, he looks like a child, trembling as if they both aren’t grown adults--what did he say, thirteen years? Wei Wuxian didn’t even know it’s been that long since they last saw each other…
It’s obvious he isn’t going to leave without another push. “I’ll be right here as always, Lan Zhan… you won’t lose track of this husband, I promise.”
“...I’ll come back, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian nods. “I know you will.”
Even if it takes another thirteen years of waiting.