Chapter Text
On this remote battlefield, the elder, previously missing Jade of Gusu has appeared. He looks thin and not pale but definitely sallow; even so, the strokes of his sword are level and powerful, and somehow his robes remain a stark, pristine white. They shine like a beacon on the dirty battlefield, remaining surprisingly clean until, suddenly, they are not. Red blooms on the beautiful fabric, spreading out slowly from Lan Xichen's torso, though it doesn't stop him or even seem to slow him down. He continues to press forward, fighting, and luckily the battle is over soon, because the moment it is he slowly sinks to his knees. There is no collapse - it is like he is kneeling to begin meditation, a controlled descent. It is not so benign, though. The color has drained from his face, and his hand is pressed to the deepening red as soon as his sword is sheathed.
The contingency here is small, so it's not totally unreasonable for Jiang Cheng to move to his side, pick him up, and take him to his hastily-prepared tent to treat him himself. He's as good at caring for wounds as anyone else here. He's had his fair share, after all.
This is the first time in a long time that he's seen Lan Xichen, and up close it's clear how worn and, simply, different the other young man looks. Under his eyes is a little sunken, casting a shadow on the smooth skin, and his lips are dry and cracked. His hair is braided in many places, an unfamiliar but not bad look, though the ends are a little knotted. His robes are maybe a little more off-white than Jiang Cheng had realized.
Lan Xichen pulls in a shallow breath, and even though Jiang Cheng has laid him down he sits up to help his caretaker peel his robes from his thin frame.
"It's good to see you, Sect Leader Jiang," he says, conversationally, the moment he's pulling the bloodstuck fabric from the surface of the wound. It seems to serve as a good distraction, because there's only the slightest shake in his voice.
Jiang Cheng's brows are drawn in tight as he looks at the injury. It's a pierce, not a slash, which in some ways is worse. Still, it's not as deep as it could be, and it looks like a fairly clean in-and-out, leaving the edges of the wound smooth.
"Where have you been?" It's not accusatory, but Jiang Cheng realizes too late it might come off that way with the strain permeating his voice. He looks up. He's spent a lot of time thinking about the other sect leader ever since he'd disappeared. Lan Xichen smiles, and for the first time Jiang Cheng has ever seen, it looks a little fake.
"I'll tell you, eventually. But for now, 'hiding' will have to suffice."
Jiang Cheng finds himself immobile for a few moments, just watching Lan Xichen, before a soft sigh from the other young man reminds him he has work to do. He gives Lan Xichen some spiritual energy, then stands to clean his hands and get a few of the items he needs to deal with his wound.
There are a lot of complicated things running through Jiang Cheng's head, feelings that are hard to separate into distinct emotions. He'd never been close with Lan Xichen, but he'd felt a sort of camaraderie with him given their brothers' complex, confusing relationship with each other. Plus, all their passing interactions alone together had been strangely placid, something Jiang Cheng is unaccustomed to. He's tried to not put too much stock in their fortnight of time together in Cloud Recesses, but it had definitely grown his attachment to the other sect leader more than he'd be willing to admit. Because of all that, it's hard to see him now like this despite the relief it also draws up in him. Even if he looks different and not all that well, he's still alive. Jiang Cheng wishes, though, that they'd seen each other again for the first time under better circumstances. It was easier to assume Lan Xichen's invulnerability with the image of the other young man before all this in his mind, bright and healthy.
None of this will be said to Lan Xichen, of course. They're not really friends or anything.
Jiang Cheng kneels by Lan Xichen's side, setting down a basket of medical necessities, and begins to clean the wound. Lan Xichen exhales, slow and shaking, before he begins to speak rather casually again.
"How have you been?"
"You should save your strength." Jiang Cheng is suddenly feeling angry, and he's not sure why. It's maybe just the only thread of emotion he could pull at enough to untangle from the rest. He doesn't look away from the wound, not particularly wanting to see any change in Lan Xichen's face that his harshness may have caused.
"Of course." Soft, agreeable. Lan Xichen doesn't say anything else as Jiang Cheng treats his wound. He cleans it and applies herbs. He gives Lan Xichen more spiritual energy to ensure that the bleeding has really stopped, and then he stitches it up, his needlework even and practiced. Lan Xichen insists on wrapping his torso with bandages himself, and Jiang Cheng, though loath to leave him, departs so he can take stock of the situation outside his tent.
The battlefield is almost cleared, bodies laid out or piled depending on their sect affiliation. Jiang Cheng feels a swell of pride - his sect members are efficient, hard workers, and their number of dead is small. He checks in with his second in command; they discuss next moves, burying the dead, performing rites, resting. The strange, directionless anger he'd felt dissipates with distraction, and he helps make dinner before bringing two bowls into his tent for himself and Lan Xichen.
Unsurprisingly, the injured sect leader is sleeping, so Jiang Cheng sets the bowls of food on the makeshift table inside and goes to take a quick look at him to assess his state. He's now dressed in clean Jiang sect robes, the dark of the purple strange on his frame but not unpleasant. No sweat beads on his forehead, which is a good sign, and his breaths are steady and deep. There is, however, a smear of drying blood and dirt across his forehead. It crosses his forehead ribbon, dirtying the soft blue and likely staining it, if it remains there for too long. Jiang Cheng nearly reaches to gently pull the ribbon from Lan Xichen's forehead so he can clean it, but pauses, hand outstretched. He is not Wei Wuxian. He has respect for Lan customs, especially since Lan Xichen is asleep. Still, he feels bad just leaving it there. He also doesn't want to awaken the injured young man.
It takes Jiang Cheng a moment to remember to pull back his hand. Lan Xichen shifts in his sleep, his ribbon twisting a little, slightly sliding from its secure position. It wouldn't be too hard to get it off without really touching it, right? A thought occurs to Jiang Cheng, and he momentarily retreats to the table to retrieve a pair of chopsticks. Chewing on his lip as he returns and looks at the forehead ribbon, he doesn't feel like a sect leader - he feels like a teenager, wanting to help but finding himself indecisive and ill-equipped, like always. He shakes his head, and finally resolves to go forward. He gently and deftly removes the ribbon with the chopsticks, swishes it around in a water basin until it's clean, and then sets it out to dry. Then he returns with a wet cloth to gently clean Lan Xichen's forehead.
As he cleans, Jiang Cheng notices a slight discoloration on the other man's forehead. It takes him a few moments, but he suddenly realizes what it is - a tan line from his ribbon. Despite himself, a smile curls at the corner of his lips. Of course, that's the moment Lan Xichen begins to awaken, and Jiang Cheng has to scramble to even out his expression.
Slowly, Lan Xichen's hand lifts, feeling at his forehead. He doesn't look concerned, really, just a little surprised as his fingers run over the space where his ribbon should be. Jiang Cheng retracts fully, sitting back to put distance between them.
"I didn't touch it. I used chopsticks," he quickly informs Lan Xichen, feeling heat on the back of his neck. He can't stop looking at the faint tan line on the other man's forehead instead of looking him in the eyes. Gods, this was a really stupid idea.
"...chopsticks?"
"...yes."
Lan Xichen makes a sort of choking sound and covers his face with his hands, and Jiang Cheng has entirely forgotten about the fact that they're sitting in a tent in the middle of a war, which should really be at the forefront of his thoughts always. The only thing on his mind is how stupid he is and how Lan Xichen is so mortified that he can't even look at him. In fact, he's shaking.
"There was blood on it. I didn't want it to stain," Jiang Cheng offers lamely, his usual defensiveness not rearing its head to shield him from his mortification.
"T-thank you," Lan Xichen stutters from behind his hands, and Jiang Cheng finally realizes that he's laughing. The shaking of his body is from laughter.
"Are you laughing at me?" Jiang Cheng suddenly demands. Ah, there's that defensiveness.
"Y-yes. Chopsticks?"
"What was I supposed to do? And anyway, at least I don't have a ridiculous looking tan line on my forehead."
Reverting to snipes is so natural that Jiang Cheng doesn't even think about the words until after they've left his mouth. Lan Xichen loses control of his stifled laughter and finally just lets himself laugh outright. It's much more unbridled than he'd even been on the roof years ago; as his hands drop, Jiang Cheng can see that tears are streaming down his cheeks as well.
"Is there r-really one? I knew I went outside too m-much when I was hiding." Lan Xichen sits up as he continues to laugh, doubling over a little as he wheezes out a quiet 'ow.'
Jiang Cheng puts his hands on his shoulders and tries to ease him back down onto the bed, the heat that was on his neck creeping to his cheeks. He knows this laughter isn't really directed at him, but it's making him feel more embarrassed by the moment.
"You're going to hurt yourself more, you idiot."
"I'm so s-sorry sect leader." Lan Xichen is desperately wiping at the tears on his cheeks as he takes a few very deep breaths that seem to be a little painful, but do allow him to regain some of his control.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeats as Jiang Cheng once again sits back on his heels, rolling his eyes.
Lan Xichen pulls in a heavy, slightly shaking breath, staring at the canvas of the tent above him as he composes himself.
"Thank you for being mindful about its significance, and for being worried about it staining," Lan Xichen manages, almost sounding like himself again as he wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand. He pauses a moment to touch his injury before looking to Jiang Cheng, his expression a strange mixture of a smile and a grimace.
"I think I opened it up."
Jiang Cheng groans, and Lan Xichen bites his lip hard to, presumably, keep from laughing again.
"I'm sorry. I haven't laughed in a while. It just all came out."
"It's fine."
It is and it isn't, honestly. Jiang Cheng feels something almost shy and unsure in his throat as he helps the other man sit up and, once again, goes to help him pull his robes down from around his shoulders. There's a spot of red on the bandaging, so Jiang Cheng begins to slowly unwind it. He feels Lan Xichen's eyes on him, but he doesn't look up.
"I really am sorry."
"It's-" Jiang Cheng caves and lifts his eyes, Lan Xichen's expression startling the annoyance from his own. He looks sad, a stark contrast to how he'd looked just moments earlier.
"Thank you, sect leader. For everything. I know I've been gone. I know it's been d-"
Lan Xichen's words stop abruptly as someone pushes through the opening of the tent, and both sect leaders turn their attention to the new occupant. It's Lan Wangji, flushed from rushing to their location, no doubt. He steps forward, and Jiang Cheng rises to his feet and steps back. The space where he'd been is immediately filled by Lan Xichen's younger brother, who is quick to begin examining his wound.
"Thank you for caring for him. I will do the rest," Lan Wangji says without looking back at Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen seems at a loss for what to say initially, but the vulnerability in his face has been smoothed over into something reassuring for his brother. He glances quickly to the other sect leader, his lips parting the slightest amount, on the verge of saying something.
"I'll leave you two then."
Jiang Cheng steps out of the tent, and goes to find something to eat.