Chapter Text
This banquet is already near unbearable, though Wangji will show no sign of it, of course. He keeps his place at the table next to Brother’s and tries not to worry at Wei Ying’s absence. Tries and fails.
Jin Zixun’s arrival before them, his demand that they drink a cup of wine each, is an irritant that quickly grows to a problem. Brother tries to demur on his behalf, his gentle concern seeping into the space between them. It does no good. Jin Zixun persists.
There can be no good outcome, here. Wangji turns his head to meet Brother’s eyes and sees resignation. They both know this is a bad idea, but life has become the choosing between bad ideas, and continual refusal looks likely to mean a diplomatic incident. After all, if Jin Guangshan wanted to call his nephew off, he would have done so already.
After the confrontation during the hunt earlier, after seeing Wei Ying so close to losing control, Wangji wants to draw Bichen and put this ignorant bully on the ground, but that is not an action available to him. He is here as a representative of Gusu Lan. He is here to support his brother.
Lan Wangji rises, takes the cup, and drinks. It’s the last thing he remembers of that night.
Watching his cousin pester the Lans, Zixuan isn’t sure who he finds more frustrating: his cousin, for such aggressive and ill-mannered behaviour; his father, for allowing it; or Lan Wangji, for turning the matter of one drink into such a stand-off and for doing so with the same dismissive stance he does most things.
And Zixuan is the one Wei Wuxian calls arrogant. Distasteful as the whole thing is, it’s a relief when Lan Wangji finally accepts the drink. Hopefully, this will be enough to sate his cousin’s need to cow others and they can continue with the more usual tedium of the feast. Perhaps there will be a chance to speak with Jiang Yanli.
A ripple of concern in the surrounding guests prevents Zixuan from enjoying the thought, and he looks back up, disapproving glare ready.
He’s just in time to see the esteemed Hanguang-Jun collapse into his elder brother’s arms.
Lan Xichen is pale, clutching his brother with obvious worry, his usual polite smile absent. Zixuan sees enough of the man, what with the frequent visits to that half-brother, to be aware that worry on Lan Xichen would be horrified panic on others.
‘He’s dead!’ someone exclaims. ‘The Second Jade is dead!’
‘Murdered!’ another voice declares.
After that, the voices lap over one another too much to make out, but the Lans are the centre of a storm. Lan Xichen kneels on the floor, his younger brother unmoving in his arms, and it’s all too easy to think Lan Wangji is dead.
Zixuan curses. Whatever his obnoxious cousin intended, he’s quite possibly just started another war.
Which, of course, is when that menace Wei Wuxian arrives.
He’s here for one thing and he writhes with it, resentful energy tight under his skin as he ascends the stairs. Only his grip on Chenqing and his purpose keep his hold firm.
He has sworn to help find Wen Ning and he cannot extract that information from a corpse.
Through the ghost-screaming in his ears, it’s hard to make out other noise, but shouts filter through as he reaches the last flight. A servant appears, clatters past him too fast for safety. Wei Wuxian picks up his own pace.
He’s greeted by a milling mass, by shouting, by panic. For once, none of it is aimed at him. The largest knot is towards the other end of the hall, on the right.
Not the Nie seats. Nie Huaisang is supported by an attendant to Wei Wuxian’s immediate right, looking on the verge of tears, his brother nowhere to be seen. And not the Jiang seats. Shijie and Jiang Cheng look disbelieving, worried, standing side-by-side not far from Huaisang despite the fact Shijie should have been seated by Madam Jin. Whatever is happening, it’s pulled people out of their assigned orbits.
It’s too much noise, too much confusion, and it’s in between Wei Wuxian and his target.
‘Wei Wuxian!’
Jiang Chiang arrives at his elbow, taking hold of his forearm. Zidian sparks against Wei Wuxian’s sleeve.
‘I don’t have time for lectures,’ he tells his brother. Warnings and admonitions and threats will waste time and time is something he doesn’t have. ‘Save it for later.’
‘What?’ Jiang Cheng scowls as though that’s an idiotic assumption. ‘No. Just…stay out of this. Don’t get involved. You…you don’t want to see this.’
But there’s a particular kind of desperation there that pushes Wei Wuxian on. Pulling his arm free, he takes a step and is caught on Shijie’s palms. They touch down on his chest, stalling him, and the look on her face is aching sorrow.
‘A-Xian, I’m sorry.’
But she’s fine. Jiang Cheng is fine. So who…?
‘Lan Zhan.’ He sees Shijie reacting to his panic, to the horrified, aching realisation that his siblings are trying to shield him from pain. ‘Shijie, what’s happened to Lan Zhan?’
Even as he finishes his question, he pries her fingers from him, gently, so gently, but allowing her no way to hold on. He steps around her, hearing her call to him again but fixed now on reaching the source of this, whatever it may be.
His siblings are clearly unhappy, clearly want him to spare himself this, but they fall into step just behind him, flanking him as they reach the cluster of people near what Wei Wuxian now knows are the Lan seats. People are slow to step aside at first but fall back more quickly once they take note of him. Perhaps it is his expression; from the inside, it feels tight and burning. Resentful energy pulses through his flesh.
The last back shifts out of his way and Wei Wuxian gets a clear view of the reason the banquet has descended into chaos. Lan Xichen kneels on the floor, his skin paler than normal and tears gleaming in his eyes, Lan Zhan cradled in his arms. Lan Zhan, who isn’t moving. Lan Zhan, whose eyes are closed and whose body is limp, one hand trailing on the floor.
‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Wuxian whispers.
He falls to his own knees so close that they almost touch Lan Zhan’s stray hand, feeling panic thrum in his throat.
‘What happened?’ he asks. Demands. ‘Lan Xichen, what’s happened to Lan Zhan?’
He wants to reach out, to touch his fingers to his friend’s forehead, to check if there is still breath.
‘He’s breathing,’ Lan Xichen says. It is clear the man is clinging to that fact, that it had not been clear at some point recently. ‘I… Young Master Wei, I don’t know what’s wrong.’
Seeing that Lan Xichen is in no state to process things rationally, Wei Wuxian takes it on himself to lift Lan Zhan’s hand and check his pulse, to peel back an eyelid and note the dilation of a pupil, to lean in far enough to smell Lan Zhan’s breath. That Lan Xichen is not already doing so means this has only just happened, because a man who has led so many others through a war, who has dealt with his home being burned down and with being forced into hiding, does not lose his ability to function for long. Were it anyone but his little brother, Lan Xichen would not be frozen by panic, Wei Wuxian is sure.
Almost at once, he is sure of something else: Lan Zhan is drunk.
‘What is it?’ Lan Xichen asks. ‘Is it…is it poison?’
Poison? Who would dare to poison one of the Twin Jade of Lan? Then again, Wei Wuxian has learnt a lot about what people will and will not dare over the last years of his life and he has learnt that the Jin are not to be trusted. He can’t fathom why Lan Zhan would suddenly take to drinking, but he wouldn’t be the first to seek solace in liquor and surviving through a war has made more than one man crawl into a jar. With Lan Zhan, it would only take a sip.
But shouldn’t Lan Xichen know how his own brother reacts to alcohol?
‘Did you see him take anything?’ Wei Wuxian asks, stalling. With so many people pressing around, only giving them any space at all because Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao hold them back, he doesn’t dare give his conclusion until he knows more. Perhaps Lan Zhan has followed in Wei Wuxian’s own footsteps. If so, he must have hidden it from his brother. Wei Wuxian will not sully Lan Zhan’s good name by starting the gossips talking of how he’s turned to drink. ‘Anything out of the ordinary?’
That should be safe enough. And if it is drink, but Lan Xichen knows of it, it will be enough to prod the man to awareness. Surely, it will. As sect leader, Lan Xichen has ever been amongst the most diplomatic and discreet of them all. He will cover for his brother if cover is needed. In front of these people, he will. Wei Wuxian knows enough of Gusu Lan to be almost sure Lan Zhan will not be spared punishment, but the whole cultivation world has no need to know of it.
It’s Nie Mingjue who answers, apparently listening in well enough even as he keeps others back. ‘Jin Zixun forced both Xichen and Wangji to drink a cup of wine. Whatever that bastard gave him, it must have been in that.’
Condemnation drips from every word. Pain flares in Lan Xichen’s eyes, but no jolt of shame or embarrassment.
Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and sighs. Right. So, the very man he’s here to face has this entire gathering suspecting him of poisoning Lan Zhan. Even Lan Xichen thinks Jin Zixun has poisoned Lan Zhan. And he can’t quite recall how long it took Lan Zhan to go from asleep to very difficult to deal with, but it can’t be long. Not long enough to deal with it and then turn to the matter of Wen Ning.
He would prefer not to let Lan Zhan lose face, either.
‘Not here,’ he tells Xichen. ‘We should take him to another room. Somewhere less public.’
Now. Please. Before the whole room sees why at least this Lan should never drink alcohol.
Something of that must get across to Lan Xichen, because his frown alters, ever so slightly, and his grip on his brother shifts. It’s less clinging. He stares a little longer before nodding, gathering Lan Zhan more fully into his arms, and standing as though lifting a grown warrior is nothing.
They’ve clearly been quiet enough that most of the crowd still thinks Lan Zhan might be dead, from the cries and accusations that surround them, but a path is cleared, and Wei Wuxian follows Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue into a much smaller space. One with a door.
‘Please, Da-ge, can you keep everyone out?’ Lan Xichen asks, and his sworn brother hesitates before nodding. As soon as the door shuts the chaos away and it’s only the Twin Jades and Wei Wuxian in the room, Lan Xichen’s attention is fixed on his younger brother, lowering Lan Zhan to lie on the floor. ‘What do you have to say, Young Master Wei?’
It feels, briefly, like an accusation. Wei Wuxian frowns. But of course, he told Lan Xichen they needed somewhere private. At least Lan Qiren is not here.
‘He’s in no danger,’ he says, clear and firm as he can. Not to his life, anyway. His reputation may be at risk, but he’s done what he can, there. ‘He’s just passed out from the wine.’
The look on Lan Xichen’s face is almost worth this whole sorry mess. Disbelief, realisation, shock.
‘He’s…drunk?’
Wei Wuxian frowns. ‘I thought all you Lans must be like this. That’s why you have the rule, isn’t it?’
‘Most of my immediate family have a…a stronger than usual reaction if we let the alcohol touch us, but…’ He trails off, takes a breath, shuts his eyes for a moment, and presses his fingertips to the side of his head. ‘I don’t think it must affect us all in the same way.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Wei Wuxian says, the need to find and face down Jin Zixun pushing him to move past this. Lan Zhan will be safe with his brother. He can hardly be punished for this. ‘Just keep him in here. I’m sorry, Zewu-Jun, but I must go.’
He hears some kind of response from Lan Xichen as he rises and leaves, but his attention is already on other things. If Jin Zixun has disappeared from the hall, he will have to hunt the man down.
Xichen stares down at Wangji. His brother looks so still, so young. Far too young to have been through a war. They’re both too young to have been through what they have. He knows many things about his brother that he thinks he should not. He knows what Wangji looks like when his home is burning around him. He knows what Wangji looks like in the midst of battle. He knows what Wangji looks like as he holds the unconscious body of the man he loves, and that one is perhaps the worst of all. How did he not know what his brother looked like when he’s had wine?
Leaning forward a little more, Xichen brushes back a stray strand of hair from his brother’s forehead. Wangji is so strong, so accomplished, but in this moment Xichen sees the little boy he was. An older brother should know what his younger brother looks like drunk far more than he should know any of those other things. It’s a new ache, to realise how blood and stoicism are less shocking than wine.
He’s still seeking for equilibrium with these thoughts when Wangji’s eyes snap open. Xichen breathes in relief.
‘Wangji, I was so worried. No, don’t move. Just stay still. Brother is here.’
But Wangji’s eyes aren’t properly focused, or at least they do not have the same focus as usual. There’s an intensity, but if it’s fixed on anything, it’s nothing Xichen can see.
‘What is it? Does your head hurt?’ He touches the back of his hand to Wangji’s forehead and tries not to be hurt when Wangji knocks it away. ‘Young Master Wei said- ‘
‘Wei Ying?’
Wangji’s gaze sharpens and he’s on his feet at once, Xichen finding himself dragged up too. He keeps hold of Wanji’s shoulder and tries to soothe his brother, who looks far more agitated than is called for.
‘He’s gone to speak with someone, Wangji. He said to wait here.’
The scowl that greets these words is too cute to be taken seriously, but Xichen tries to comfort his inebriated little brother anyway.
‘Just wait and I’m sure you can see him. Wangji? Wangji!’
He tries to grab Wangji’s sleeve, but his brother is far too fast, finding and vanishing through a door to the gardens in a flurry of white. Feeling he’s lost control of things, Xichen follows.
Wangji turns towards the note from the dizi. The dizi means Wei Ying, and Wei Ying is just beyond this wall. Through this window, which is as easy to get through as thinking it.
There are other people inside, wearing gold and making noise, but Wangji ignores them. They aren’t important. They don’t matter. Only Brother and Wei Ying matter, and Brother is safe in the other room. Wangji has seen him. Brother will remain safe until Wangji returns for him.
He jolts as something closes on his left arm, turns his head enough to see that, oh, Brother has followed him. This is still good. This is better. Now Wangji can keep both Brother and Wei Ying in his sight, where he can be sure they are unharmed.
Those months where first Brother and then Wei Ying were missing were truly a time of despair. He must ensure they never happen again.
Brother says his name as Wangji removes the hand and turns back to Wei Ying, but it isn’t that he needs defending or saving so Wangji sets that aside for now.
‘Lan Zhan?’ Wei Ying says, from where he stands in front of Jin Guangshan. He looks displeased. That is bad. He shifts his gaze to Brother. That is bad, too. ‘Zewu-Jun, I told you- ‘
‘You dare give orders to the First Jade of Lan!’
That is hurled by the irritating man who made Wangji drink wine. He hides behind Jin Guangshan, not even daring to say that directly to Wei Ying’s face. Of course, he should not be allowed near Wei Ying’s face. Jin Zixun should not be allowed in the same room as Wei Ying.
Jin Guangshan glares at his nephew but turns a fiercer glare on Wei Ying. He pays no attention to Wangji or to Brother. This one has no manners. He should not be near Wei Ying, either.
‘You interrupt my banquet, poison my guests, and demand I hand over my own nephew?’ Jin Guangshan says. He should not use that tone on Wei Ying.
Wei Ying makes a strangled sound. It might be a kind of laugh, but it doesn’t sound happy. Wei Ying should always sound happy, should always be happy.
Ah, he wants Jin Zixun handing to him? There is something Wangji can do for Wei Ying.
Brother says his name again as Wangji strides forward, but he has a task and so Brother will have to wait. Jin Zixun is light for someone so full of bile. His face turns red as Wangji lifts him and carries him to Wei Ying.
‘Let go of him, Lan Wangji,’ Jin Guangshan orders. But his orders mean nothing. ‘You’re throttling him. Let go!’
Wangji stares at Jin Zixun. His face is much redder, this is true. He’s gasping and clawing at the hand Wangji has around the man’s neck. It seemed the quickest, most efficient way to lift him across to Wei Ying.
‘Lan Zhan.’ Wei Ying is looking right at him now, which is right. He looks tense, which is not. ‘Lan Zhan, put him down.’
Yes. Wei Ying must realise this man is not good enough to be near him. Wangji is glad Wei Ying has worked this out, though he would have handed Jin Zixun to Wei Ying if that would have made Wei Ying happy. Wei Ying has never said anything positive about Jin Zixun, so Wangji knows whatever Wei Ying wanted with Jin Zixun, it would not have been anything to worry about.
But now, Wei Ying has changed his mind.
Wangji throws Jin Zixun to the side. There’s a crunch and a cry.
‘What have you done?’ Jin Guangshan shouts. ‘How are you controlling him?’
Jin Zixun reappears, cradling an arm and still red in the face. ‘That flute! He used it to summon him. He’s turned Hanguang-Jun into a fierce corpse!’
Both Jins disappear from the room and Wangji is aware of shouting, but it isn’t between Wei Ying and him, and it isn’t between Brother and him, so it doesn’t need acting on.
‘Young Master Wei,’ Brother says, suddenly beside Wangji again and holding his arm. Again. ‘What is this? You said he would be fine.’
‘He will be,’ Wei Ying says. He sounds frustrated. ‘After he sleeps, he wakes up. He’s still drunk. I told you to keep him in the room. Quick. Quick, get him back to the other room.’
Brother tugs on his arm and Wangji takes a step in the direction he’s pulled. Wei Ying does not follow. Wangji stops.
‘Wangji, you have to come with me,’ Brother says.
That voice has always guided him and he has always obeyed it. Nearly always. Obeying now will mean moving away from Wei Ying.
‘Lan Zhan. Go.’
Wei Ying points with his dizi, his expression serious. Wangji lets himself be moved.
When Jin Zixun rushes back into the hall, father at his heels, both of them shouting about a fierce corpse, Jin Guangyao allows himself one flicker. Just one, then his face is schooled back into an appropriate mask. The irritation he feels is not allowed to show.
Bad enough the idiot pushed Er-ge and Lan Wangji into drinking. Er-ge is an acceptable loss, in that sense, much as Jin Guangyao prefers not to cause the man discomfort. In the interest of widening the cracks through which Jin Guangyao intends to slip, even Er-ge can be permitted to experience some distress. But to put something in Lan Wangji’s drink?
Once this is over, Jin Guangyao will learn whether Jin Zixun truly was trying to assassinate the Second Jade of Lan in front of an entire hall of people or whether he simply thought causing Lan Wangji to pass out in public would humiliate the man.
For now, he meets his father before either of his relatives can reach the crowd and shifts into information gathering and limitation. He needs to know if, amongst the nonsense and overreaction, there is anything in this new twist he can use. It’s an effort to present acceptable expressions as he listens.
‘But how can the Second Jade be a fierce corpse if he isn’t dead?’ he asks, voice low enough not to carry beyond their immediate huddle.
He gets a glare and an insult for his trouble. No matter. Jin Zixun is already marked and his father has only a few chances left. Besides, he can use this, one way or another. It will be a larger wedge between Wei Wuxian and Sect Leader Jiang than he planned for, but there are possibilities in this path, too.
Already, voices mutter and protest at the thought of a fierce corpse in Koi Tower. No mention has yet been made of a name. Jin Guangyao shakes his head, lets his face fall into shock and new grief, and spins to lock eyes with Da-ge.
‘Wei Wuxian must be stopped. Da-ge, that man has made Wangji into his puppet!’
Now, the cries around him turn in a much more useful direction. Yes, he can use this. It will do very well.
Wei Wuxian steps out of the room just in time to hear Jin Guangyao’s words. A sea of hostile faces makes him tighten his lips, but he won’t let it distract him. He still has a mission. These people in their rich robes care only for themselves. He will not do the same.
Jin Zixun lets out a strangled cry as Wei Wuxian reaches him in long strides. They’re long past the point of pretence. Wei Wuxian will know where Wen Ning is and he will know it now. The smoke-flames of resentful energy coil up from his skin.
‘A-Xian, please.’
Shijie’s voice is too close. He doesn’t want her close to this, close to him when he’s like this, but he can’t let her sway him. A quick glance shows him Shijie and Jiang Cheng watching with worry. At least Jiang Cheng holds Shijie by her arm, keeping her back.
‘Stay out of this,’ he tells her. He knows the way he looks back to Jin Zixun is the movement of a predator, knows the red will be glinting in his eyes. It feels right. He lets his voice turn hard. ‘I will know where this one is keeping Wen Ning and I will know now.’
‘Wen?’ Jin Zixun manages to sneer even through his fear. It’s almost impressive. ‘Why would you care about a Wen? Are you so lost to your demonic ways that you favour the Wen over your own?’
Wei Wuxian takes a deliberate step closer, letting a little more of the resentful energy rise. He feels the movement as his hair and his robes react, lifting in a breeze nobody else can feel. He sees the way his target shakes.
‘Are you so lost to decency that you hold innocents captive, that you torment and torture them? Wen Ning! Where is he? I will not ask again.’
He’s about to start counting down from three, is prepared to use Chenqing, if he must, when a scream and the sounds of blades being drawn interrupt him. Behind Jin Zixun, Jin Guangshan’s eyes widen, fixed in the direction of the noise. Jin Zixun doesn’t look away from Wei Wuxian, but there’s a juddering tension to him that says he wants to find a way to.
‘Wangji!’
That’s Lan Xichen’s voice. Why is the man having so much trouble keeping his own little brother in one room? Wei Wuxian doesn’t have time for this. Lan Wangji has been sober almost every moment of his life and drunk for only a few hours. His timing is appalling. It would strike Wei Wuxian as hilarious if the life of another friend were not on the line.
But he can’t let Lan Zhan come to harm because these idiots are willing to think with their fear rather than looking with their eyes. Anyone who paid attention would see Lan Zhan is no fierce corpse, that he’s no puppet. The way he moves when drunk is inhuman, Wei Wuxian supposes, but not in the way of the undead. If anything, free of the restraint of sobriety, Lan Zhan is closer to a drifting sort of dance, like he’s being called to move by music not known to mortal ears. And there are no lines marring that skin. He’s also easily led.
Torn between saving Wen Ning and ensuring Lan Zhan’s safety and reputation, Wei Wuxian grimaces. The clash of blades and a sharp cry drag him away from Jin Zixun.
A cultivator Wei Wuxian doesn’t know stands with wide eyes, his sword blocked by an elegant pale sword gripped in Lan Zhan’s right hand. Not Bichen. Lan Zhan did not have Bichen with him in that side room. That is Shuoyue. Several steps behind Lan Zhan, looking startled in the understated way of his clan, Lan Xichen stands in a way that says he’s been pushed back. As Wei Wuxian watches, Lan Zhan’s head tilts, as though he can’t quite work out what this creature is in front of him or why it’s worth wasting his time on.
Others look hesitant, swords ready to attack but held back by uncertainty and by the fact this is Lan Zhan. Likely, they are thinking of how much more dangerous he might be as a puppet, but Wei Wuxian can only think that a drunk Lan Zhan is not best placed to fight off a hall full of cultivators.
‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Wuxian calls. ‘Come here.’
Only as the words leave his mouth does he realise how this will look. Lan Zhan’s head snaps round as more words rise from the crowd. Cries that Wei Wuxian is controlling Hanguang-Jun, that they will all fall before such a weapon, fill the air. Lan Zhan just shoves the other cultivator away with his brother’s sword, not even looking as the man is knocked into three others, and glides towards Wei Wuxian. He brings Shuoyue with him.
‘Wangji.’ Lan Xichen recovers himself enough to follow, setting himself between his brother and the gathered people. He doesn’t stand in Lan Zhan’s path to Wei Wuxian. ‘Return Shuoyue.’
Lan Zhan gives no sign he’s heard him, only coming to a stop when he’s in front of Wei Wuxian, his eyes giving every impression he’s focused on another realm of existence. When Wei Wuxian gestures with his free hand, Lan Zhan tracks the movement exactly.
‘I don’t have time for this, Lan Zhan,’ Wei Wuxian says. ‘I need this one to tell me where I can find Wen Ning.’
He’s about to tell Lan Zhan to go with Lan Xichen, because this isn’t something Lan Zhan will be happy to hear about once he’s sober, but Lan Zhan turns such a look on Jin Zixun that it’s surprising the man’s blood doesn’t run cold and kill him. The way Lan Zhan tips his head to the side, a slow slide of a motion that really does look inhuman, is all it takes for Jin Zixun to stumble back against his uncle.
‘Keep him back,’ Jin Zixun gasps. He’s pathetic. ‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you!’
As soon as he has the location, Wei Wuxian turns on his heel to leave, his mind already on the steps he must take, on what still lies between him and saving Wen Ning. Lan Xichen will take care of Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian must return to Wen Qing, must make sure she knows they have a place to search. She’ll want to come with him; he must take her food so she will at least be a little stronger. They’ll have to travel on foot, but-
Nie Mingjue blocks his way, Baxia drawn and ready to cut him down. The look on the man’s face says he won’t hesitate, that Wei Wuxian has crossed a line and become the enemy. Wei Wuxian lets out a hiss of air through his teeth. He doesn’t have time for this.
‘Sect Leader Nie, I cannot allow you to delay me,’ he says, tasting black smoke on his tongue. He doesn’t let it out. This man is an allay, or was. He’s the brother of a friend, the sworn brother of Lan Zhan’s brother. Wei Wuxian has to consciously remind himself of these things. ‘Move.’
‘Wei Wuxian.’ The name twists Nie Mingjue’s lips. ‘You go too far.’
It’s a faint movement, the momentary flicker of Nie Mingjue’s gaze to Lan Zhan, who has not yet moved from where he stares at Jin Zixun, but the pain and horror is stark. Ah, of course. Lan Zhan’s brother’s sworn brother.
‘I have no wish to fight you, Sect Leader Nie,’ Wei Wuxian says, most of this focus still on the steps beyond this hall, on the curling need to save a boy who should never have been harmed. ‘Do not make me do so.’
‘You!’
Nie Mingjue’s voice is loud, but not so loud as the clash of metal on metal as Lan Zhan once again uses Shuoyue to block another blade. He’s moved so fast his hair still sways, even as everything else seems to freeze.
Lan Xichen grips his sworn brother’s arm, looking frantic.
‘Da-ge, don’t,’ he says. Pleads. ‘Don’t hurt Wangji.’
As if he could. Even drunk, Lan Zhan has now moved with speed and precision enough to foil two attacks. Wei Wuxian is certain Lan Zhan could defeat Nie Mingjue even now. He has no desire to put his friend at risk of that certainty being false, however. And there is still the fact that, despite what everyone seems determined to believe, Lan Zhan is not actually dead. He’s not even injured. He will still have to face people once this is over. Harming or killing Sect Leader Nie is not something he will want to find he’s done.
Wei Wuxian sets his free hand on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. ‘Lan Zhan. Stop.’
Lan Zhan allows himself to be pulled back all too easily, lowering the sword with a lazy grace as the sharpness of combat melts back into that drifting haze. It’s unfair how Lan Zhan manages to look ethereal and oddly delicate when he’s so clearly drunk. Clearly to Wei Wuxian, in any case.
‘See how he controls the Second Jade! Such a transgression must be answered. Wei Wuxian must be stopped!’
It sounds like Sect Leader Yao, a man Wei Wuxian will not mourn when the time finally comes that the obnoxious man dies. As expected, other voices agree. Lan Zhan is standing right there in front of them all, with no sign of marks on his skin and with as much colour to that skin as he ever has, yet these people swallow the lie that Wei Wuxian has made him into a puppet. It’s unbearable.
If these people want him to use Lan Zhan, if they want to see him exert his will, then that is what they will see.
‘I am leaving,’ Wei Wuxian states. ‘Lan Zhan. Clear me a path.’