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Jiang Cheng shivers when he steps into the hanshi. He knows it’s labelled the cold room for a reason, but right now it’s freezing in there. It’s cold enough that he can see his breath in front of his face, and Jiang Cheng is not liking it. The cold of winter shouldn’t be trapped inside a house that is lived in.
Jiang Cheng likes it even less when he sees Lan Xichen simply sitting at the table, staring off into nothing, wearing only his normal outer robe.
Lan Xichen is being a whole idiot—and this includes this seclusion in the first place—and Jiang Cheng is not too shy to voice his thoughts, though there are more pressing matters first.
He moves around the room, Lan Xichen clearly not taking note of him, until he finds Lan Xichen’s winter robe, which he promptly throws into Lan Xichen’s face.
Lan Xichen startles, and when he takes the robe off his head, his eyes are wide.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jiang Cheng snaps at him, and he works his jaw when Lan Xichen avoids his eyes and stares down at the robe.
“Stop being a fucking idiot and put this on,” Jiang Cheng orders him around, but it’s only when the robe slides out of Lan Xichen’s hands that Jiang Cheng realizes how blue his skin looks.
“What the fuck, Xichen,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath as he kneels down to take Lan Xichen’s hands into his.
They are ice cold.
“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asks him, voice much softer now, and he’s quick to carefully rub some warmth back into Lan Xichen’s hands.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Xichen whispers, the same thing he always says when Jiang Cheng forces his way into Lan Xichen’s seclusion, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t give less of a fuck about this.
“Well, neither should you,” he gives back, a well-rehearsed dance by now, and Lan Xichen’s mouth twists in that all too familiar way.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on it, and instead he busies himself with fastening the robe around Lan Xichen’s shoulders and then he lights a few talismans, bringing some light and warmth into the hanshi.
He gently pushes Lan Xichen until he finally moves and Jiang Cheng only lets him be once he’s sitting in front of one of the fire places and Jiang Cheng can be sure that he will not turn into an ice statue.
Jiang Cheng can’t remember exactly when he started to barge into Lan Xichen’s home, into his seclusion, but it’s been too long by now and Lan Xichen seems almost worse than when he first entered seclusion.
Jiang Cheng thought from the beginning that it was a stupid move, that seclusion accomplishes nothing, and now he has proof of that, too. This is doing more harm to Lan Xichen than good.
“You have to stop this,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and that, finally, gets Lan Xichen to look at him.
“I can’t,” he gives back, voice raspy from disuse and Jiang Cheng wonders—not for the first time—if Lan Xichen gets any other visitors or if everyone is thinking that this is helping Lan Xichen.
“Why not?” Jiang Cheng gently prods, because Lan Xichen seems fragile in a way Jiang Cheng doesn’t like, like he could shatter at any given moment, and that’s just not who Lan Xichen is.
He was always strong and sure; a steady rock for those who had his trust, and seeing him like this is wrong.
“I have to repent,” Lan Xichen mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.
“For what?” he wants to know, because he cannot think of a single thing Lan Xichen did wrong that could lead to a punishment like this.
“For what I did. For what I enabled Jin Guangyao to do,” Lan Xichen tells him and Jiang Cheng feels rage boil in his veins.
“What the actual fuck,” Jiang Cheng says, for the second time this day, and Lan Xichen’s look turns startled. “Do you really, honestly believe any of what he did is your fault?”
Jiang Cheng knew that Jin Guangyao’s betrayal hit Lan Xichen hard; they were sworn brothers and friends, almost family, so anything else would have been surprising, but to think that Lan Xichen thinks the crimes Jin Guangyao committed are his fault is beyond comprehension.
“I gave him all he needed,” Lan Xichen presses out. “I handed him Mingjue’s murder weapon and then I stood back and watched him use it.”
“Bullshit,” Jiang Cheng says with vehemence and takes Lan Xichen’s hand back into his.
He’s glad to find that they are a lot warmer than before.
“But I did,” Lan Xichen tries and Jiang Cheng silences him with a look.
“You did no such thing, Xichen,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “You showed Jin Guangyao your library. You gave him access to information, and that’s it. It was him who specifically sought out those scores. He decided to steal them, to learn them, to modify them. He practiced Clarity and matched the Song of Turmoil to it. He played it for Nie Mingjue again and again and again. None of those were your actions. Those were choices he made, actively. It has nothing to do with you.”
“But I still handed him the murder weapon, so it’s my responsibility, too,” Lan Xichen insists and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“You handed him a comb,” he says and can’t help the slight smile at Lan Xichen’s confused look. “You could potentially murder someone with a comb, if you are desperate enough and put enough force behind it, and yet no one would accuse you of being complicit in the murder just because you were the one who gifted the comb. But Jin Guangyao took it even further. He took the comb and he filed away at it until he could slash your throat with it before he went to do just that. Do you really think that is your fault?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Lan Xichen simply blinks at him.
“If you do, then you are responsible for every person I killed with that one move you taught me. Then you are responsible for all of the people your brother killed because you taught him. You taught the disciples, so you’re responsible for every death that happens on their hands, too. Actually, since you’re Sect Leader you’re responsible for every person that ever got killed by the hands of your Sect. Do you think that?”
Lan Xichen opens his mouth, but he closes it without saying anything.
“Do you?” Jiang Cheng inquires again, because he needs Lan Xichen to say it.
“No,” Lan Xichen whispers and stares down at his hands, which Jiang Cheng are still holding.
“Then what Jin Guangyao did is not your fault,” Jiang Cheng tells him, and his voice allows no argument, but it seems like Lan Xichen wants to protest anyway.
“But—,” Lan Xichen starts and looks back up at Jiang Cheng. “But I trusted him. I trusted and supported him.”
“And it’s his fault for abusing that trust and your support,” Jiang Cheng gently says. “Your faith in people is a good thing, Xichen. Don’t let him turn it against you. Don’t let him turn it into something bad when it’s such a good thing. If you do that, then he wins.”
Lan Xichen stares at him for long moments and Jiang Cheng is startled to see tears in his eyes.
“Why are you here?” Lan Xichen rasps out and Jiang Cheng swipes away the tears that finally spill over.
“To drag you out of seclusion and tell you how stupid you’re being,” Jiang Cheng gives back with a small smile, hope blooming in his chest that maybe, finally, he got through to Lan Xichen. “It’s been a year. Won’t you step into life again?”
Lan Xichen blinks through his tears and Jiang Cheng can see the moment his resolve shatters.
“I’m not ready to be Sect Leader again,” Lan Xichen sobs out and tries to take his hands back from Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes at him.
“And no one is asking you to, idiot,” he fondly says. “Your uncle and your brother have things handled. All everyone asks is for you to let people in again.”
Lan Xichen swallows at that and Jiang Cheng startles when he slumps forwards, his forehead resting on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and hiding his new tears in Jiang Cheng’s robes.
“What if I need someone to support me?” Lan Xichen wants to know, voice small and Jiang Cheng sighs.
“Then you have your Sect, the acting Sect Leader, the Chief Cultivator, the next heir and the Yiling Patriarch himself on your side.”
“And you?” Lan Xichen whispers and Jiang Cheng briefly rests his cheek against Lan Xichen’s head.
“And me. But Xichen, no one blames you for anything that happened. I’m not sure you’ll even need all of our support.”
“But it’ll make me feel better,” Lan Xichen admits and Jiang Cheng nods.
“Then you have it.”
“Okay,” Lan Xichen says and moves back, tears no longer visible on his cheeks. There is only a new kind of resolve in him. “I’m not ready to go back out, thought. Just brother and uncle, maybe, for a start. And you.”
“And that’s enough. That’s all we want,” Jiang Cheng softly tells him and then moves to make some tea, though he’s regretful to let go of Lan Xichen’s hands. “Now, I’m going to brief you on the funny things that happened while you were locked away, because I bet your uncle and brother only stick to the boring, political things.”
Jiang Cheng catches a fleeting smile on Lan Xichen’s face and despite everything he has accomplished in his life, this is the second proudest of himself he’s ever been. The first pride is raising Jin Ling well, and it can never be replaced by anything, but this is pretty close.
“Alright, then,” Lan Xichen says as he gets out the tea cups. “Tell me everything.”