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Hanguang-Jun, a man as beautiful as pure jade.
Standing on a rooftop, gazing off into the distance, the disciple on guard can only wonder what his senior thinks of. But it is not his right to pry into business that does not concern him, so he turns away, quietly storing away the memory of the near-perfect senior who glows in the moonlight.
It has been four years of mourning.
It only makes sense that on this day, the moon would shine just as bright, just as large, as the day they first met.
忘 不 了, 忘 不 了
忘 不 了 你 的 錯
How could I forget, how could I ever forget?
How could I forget the times when you went astray?
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tenses. “Don’t joke.”
“What makes you think I’m joking?” Wei Wuxian twirls Chenqing, Suibian abandoned on the table behind him.
“You’re cultivating on an evil path,” Lan Wangji wishes he would understand. “You will end up paying for it. Body, heart and soul.”
“Damage? So be it.” The red tassel on Chenqing spins and spins- he wishes it would stop, he wishes Wei Wuxian would put it down. “My heart, I know it best. Why should other people care about it? Why would other people care about it?”
“Wei Wuxian!” Lan Wangji looks him in the eye- pleading, pleading. There is a person who cares for your heart, he is in front of you!
But Wei Wuxian doesn’t hear his unspoken words, and before he truly understands and tries to get the words out, to plead that he go to Gusu with him, privacy be damned even if Jiang Wanyin is still around-
He finds himself outside, shooed away by the Twin Prides of Yunmeng.
忘 不 了 你 的 好
and how could I forget your sweet love and tenderness?
In Hanguang-Jun’s hands, a drawing worn with time and touch.
It is a portrait of himself.
Sometimes, he thinks bitterly as he puts it away in a drawer gently, one can really take things for granted. But with how often Wei Wuxian squeezed himself into his life, could you blame him for thinking Wei Wuxian would always be there?
In the classrooms, in the library pavilion, the cold springs, Caiyi Town- however large Gusu Lan territory was, was it wrong for him to think (to hope) that Wei Wuxian would always appear where Lan Wangji was at least every so often?
忘 不 了 雨 中 的 散 步
也 忘 不 了 那 風 裡 的 擁 抱
How could I ever forget our stroll in the rain?
and how could I ever forget our embrace in the wind?
In the storm, he waits under his umbrella. Torn, he does not know whether he wants to see Wei Wuxian.
To not see him, Wei Wuxian is free.
To see him, means to stop him. To bring him back. Surely he could hide Wei Wuxian in the jingshi, but for how long? The fake justice that presided within the sect leaders of the cultivation world would not rest until Wei Wuxian was stopped. Entirely.
But deeper within, a wish selfishly held in his heart, he wants to see Wei Wuxian, yearns to see him, hurts to see him.
The galloping of horses. Multitudes of people, the old, the young, the weak; all lead by one in black. The one he wants to see the most.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. “Stop this- please.”
“Do you remember our promise, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian replies with an expression too heavy. “To eliminate evil and help the weak. Can you tell me, Lan Zhan?” He gestures to the people behind him. “Who are the strong and the weak, the right and the wrong?”
“Must you rebel? Where are you going, Wei Ying?”
“Rebel? Against who? The ones who have killed Wen Ning? The ones who turned these innocents into slaves? If this is rebelling, I don’t mind it. But, I must save these people. I must save Wen Ning. The world is vast, mountains as high as there are rivers deep. We will find a new home.” Wei Wuxian says resolutely. “If there must be a fight- I will rise to it. Though even if I fight every last cultivator, if I must die, let me die by your hand.
“If my fate is death, at least by your hand, it will be worth it.”
Lan Wangji feels the words like a dagger in his chest, twisting and twisting endlessly. Could he ever stop Wei Wuxian, ever be the cause of his death? How could he aim Bichen’s blade towards Wei Wuxian?
And it hurts, oh it hurts so painfully- but he steps aside.
If you save Wen Ning, if you save the Wen clan, who will save you?
If not me, then who?
The umbrella falls, leaving Lan Wangji to hide his tears in the rain.
Come back to Gusu, Wei Ying, will you not?
忘 不 了 忘 不 了
忘 不 了 你 的 淚
忘 不 了 你 的 笑
How could I forget, how could I ever forget?
I can never forget your tears,
and I can never forget your laughter.
Though Hanguang-Jun has shed enough tears in his lifetime already to fill the cold spring on the mountain, he has not run out. Really, he should stop, this excessive behaviour and emotion only brought more pain and sorrow- but he couldn’t.
Even if he recited the Lan sect rules in his head like a meditation, he could not forget.
“Get lost!” Wei Wuxian told him.
It’s okay, he understood it then and he understood it now. The Wei Wuxian in front of him then was not his Wei Ying, it was the Yiling Patriarch, it was the evil cultivation path. But there was no mistaking the pain he felt every time Wei Wuxian uttered those two words at him, crazed. Lan Wangji knew Wei Wuxian was essentially gone- he knew it then, but he still could not bear to leave him.
The pain of those words hurt more than later infliction of the thirty-three scars on his back, and he still could not leave him.
Even as he almost crawled back to the battlefield, fighting every nerve of pain in his body to reach on time- just please, just let me be there on time-
He only came in just in time to see Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, laugh in indignation, before-
Before-
Qi deviation was always going to happen. He warned Wei Wuxian that this was always a possibility, that this path was going to smite him one day.
Didn’t you say it yourself, Wei Ying? You said if you had to leave this Earth, at least it should be by my hand, by my sword? Why didn’t you let-
Why didn’t you let me see your smile- let me savour your smile, let me hear your laugh, let me see your drawings again, let me remain beside you for the following days, months, years?
Let me tell you my deepest feelings.
Now, even when he recalls past memories of Wei Wuxian’s mischievous behaviour, his rule breaking, his unwavering sense of justice that put him in more trouble than not... it was shrouded in light; it was good, it was perfect, it was him. Even though Lan Wangji has the presence of mind to be highly aware that he is purposely forgetting his annoyance during those moments, his exasperations, that he is subconsciously making everything seem better than it was; he does not care.
Distance truly made the heart grow fonder.
Unlike all the other times there was distance between them, this powerful Hanguang-Jun could not close this distance of life and death to meet his Wei Ying again.
忘 不 了 落 葉 的 惆 悵
也 忘 不 了 那 花 開 的 煩 惱
I can never forget the melancholy brought on by the autumn breeze,
and the sorrow that embraces me during the early days of spring.
Lan Yuan was a blessing in disguise.
Lan Wangji only began to truly care for him after emerging from solitude and healing for three long years- before that, his brother, his clan, they all took care of this small child, feeding him, raising him.
Bringing him to visit the bed ridden Lan Wangji, to lift his spirits.
Initially, it was difficult- he brought the child back because all he could think of was that all that was left of Wei Wuxian, of his Wei Ying, was this child. How could Lan Wangji abandon a child, hiding and scared, on the brink of death? And really, every time he saw this child, every time this child approached him, he could only think of Wei Wuxian.
All that did was hurt. He wanted to reject this child- not out of cruelty, but because he could not bear to look at this child and remember Wei Wuxian holding him and saying, “I birthed him, he is my son!”
Yet as the child grew, Lan Yuan kept coming back. Lan Yuan could not remember his past with the Wen clan nor Wei Wuxian, but he could remember Lan Wangji saving him. He clung to that memory. He clung to Lan Wangji, unwilling to step back no matter how silent Lan Wangji was.
Soon, Lan Wangji saw Lan Yuan- there was definitely Wei Wuxian there in the back of his mind, but he realised this child, this child was his own person, was a determined little thing that brought colour back into his grieving life.
Lan Wangji welcomed Lan Yuan into his arms.
Let the world gossip, let them chatter. You are my son, even though you are not of my blood, you deserve to wear the ribbon as much as the purest blooded Lan. When he tied the ribbon to his son’s forehead, he had never felt prouder.
When the child was to begin his lessons and officially be a Lan sect disciple, the clan looked to him, his adoptive father, to give the child a new name. Even with all the days of rejection and ignoring the child, perhaps the most cruel thing Hanguang-Jun ever did was to name this child Lan Sizhui. To miss, to long for.
Nonetheless, he loved this child, and watched him grow into not only a fine disciple, but a kind man.
Lan Sizhui gave him happiness, he truly did.
With this child, it was easier to carry on.
寂 寞 的 長 巷 而 今 斜 月 輕 照
冷 落 的 鞦 韆 而 今 迎 風 輕 搖
Do you remember the long lane where we used to walk? Now only touched by the light of the lonely crescent moon.
The swing where we used to play? Now only sways with the gentle caress of the breeze.
Every day, Lan Wangji took another step forward.
On some days, in the silence of the Jingshi and far from prying ears and eyes, he dared to play Inquiry. Of course, it was for naught on the protected grounds, but he did it anyway.
On other days, Hanguang-Jun was quietly saluted by disciples who met him in the library pavilion. These days, he read music, unable to help thinking, if I played this song for him back then, would things have been better? Would he still be here?
Useless thoughts, useless.
So he chose to ignore these thoughts, and finally could ignore them, marking disciple’s papers and scrolls in peace.
On the best days, he would find his mind straying to Wei Wuxian as he came across all sorts of locations around the Lan sect. On these days, he remembered, and he accepted, and he moved on with the rest of the day.
After all, he was Hanguang-Jun, he was Lan Wangji. To waste his life away in grief over a ‘friend’ would only be an insult to himself, his name (and his Wei Ying).
它 重 覆 你 的 叮 嚀 一 聲 聲 忘 了 忘 了
它 低 訴 我 的 衷 曲 一 聲 聲 難 了 難 了
Over and over again they repeat the words you utter: "Forget it, let it go."
and yet again they whisper my reply: "How could I? How could I ever?"
Hanguang-Jun sometimes talks to the rabbits. There are dozens of them now, but he could always identify the two Wei Wuxian gifted him all those years ago.
Taken care of by members of the clan and spoiled to their hearts delight, these bunnies have lived for a long time in their captivity, their friends only increasing. In their old age, they’ve calmed down considerably, and move a lot less, still jumping to and fro only every so often.
These two will probably die soon.
“Did you live a happy life?”
“Did I care for you enough?”
“Did I do the right thing?”
Of course, they don’t say anything; none of the rest do either. But all these bunnies adore Lan Wangji dearly, nuzzling around him and chinning him relentlessly.
He finds enough comfort and temporary companionship from that.
He is not too sad when the juniors half-run to him in tears. They report to him that his beloved bunnies have passed (found together, looking as if sleeping away peacefully together, just like every other day, only to never wake up), because he knows that no one can defeat time nor death. Hanguang-Jun is confident that within the years those two bunnies lived under his and his juniors care, they were happy.
Hanguang-Jun lets his disciples cry a little bit before he teaches them about death and coping, something he’s known for far too long, from far too young.
忘 不 了, 忘 不 了
忘 不 了 春 已 盡
忘 不 了 花 已 老
How could I forget, how could I ever forget?
How could I forget the end of spring?
and how could I ever wipe the memory of falling leaves and wilting flowers from my memories?
One day, thirteen years later. Hanguang-Jun rests on the balcony of his room, in a small town that had a corpse problem he solved easily earlier in the day.
It was quite sudden, really- as he glided through the marketplace, his aura of elegance naturally clearing his way- he suddenly recalled a song he wrote, over thirteen years ago. Since then, his fingers itched to play it again, to sing it again, to hear it again.
Now, facing his guqin in his dilemma, he was not sure. Would this be the correct decision? Would this affect him in any way? To not play the song after thirteen years-- would he even be able to remember it?
What a joke, how funny. Of course Lan Wangji would remember it, he recalls the notes as if he wrote it yesterday.
He decides- after all this time, he’s ready. He’s long passed the stages of grief, he’s accepted Wei Wuxian’s death and moved on.
His Wei Ying would always be in his heart, and he would always regret not directly telling him his feelings- however, let bygones be bygones.
So Lan Zhan plays their song, he plays it beautifully, reminiscing not quite happily or sadly, but simply remembering.
Just as the last note finishes resonating into the dead night, the sound of a firework cuts through.
It is the Gusu Lan signal, asking for his assistance.
忘 不 了 離 別 的 滋 味
也 忘 不 了 那 相 思 的 苦 惱
Never can I forget the bitter taste of parting,
and never can I forget the emotions of pining for you.
He knows what he heard. He knows that song.
But only one other person has truly heard that song.
“Mark your words.” Lan Wangji says. He will not let this person walk his path alone again; no matter what, even if Wei Wuxian ends up hating him, he will make sure that Wei Wuxian knows that there is someone who will walk beside him through thick and thin. “I will take this person back to the Lan Sect.”
Let Gusu be your home, Wei Ying.
Let this Hanguang-Jun be your Lan Zhan.
Let me be your home.