Work Text:
"Wei Ying," he pleads. "Come back."
The other is not listening to him. He closes his eyes and falls.
Lan Wangji’s heart lodges its way in his throat as he leaps forward, reaching for Wei Ying.
He does not get there in time.
His eyes spring open from the nightmare. Searing pain tears across his back and now he is screaming because of that as well.
A healer rushes to his bedside, closely followed by Lan Xichen. Their eyes fall on Hanguang-jun who lies on his wounded back, screaming with hot tears rushing down his face.
Lan Wangji’s usual indifference is nowhere to be seen and normally he would scold himself for showing them this side of him, however at the moment he cannot find it within himself to care.
The memories of Nightless City are still fresh in his mind—as are the whip marks on his back, that have yet to begin healing. Beneath the wounded surface sits his heart which has not stopped breaking since the cliffs of Qishan.
Every breath he takes feels heavy in his chest. Everything around him is dark and the conversation the healer and Xichen are having seems further away than it actually is. He can faintly feel Xichen's arms around him and then he is laying on his chest again while the healer examines his back.
She says something to his brother about an infection and then he feels a sharp pain in his neck—a medical needle.
Everything turns fuzzy—even more than it already was—and Lan Wangji’s consciousness fails him.
Someone is standing in the shadows of the Jingshi . The man wears white and blue robes with a headband across his forehead. With the long hair cascading down his back and the familiar eyes, there is no mistaking the man for who he is. Lan Wangji knows this man, even with his features half hidden in the shadows. It is his father.
Qingheng-jun steps forward and takes a seat next to Lan Wangji on the bed. A lump lodges itself in his throat.
When he tries to heave himself up by his arms, pain reminds him of his current predicament and he lays down again.
His father does not say anything, much like he did when he was alive. Instead, Qingheng-jun takes Lan Wangji’s hand and squeezes it. He can barely feel it.
When he gets a closer look at his father, Lan Wangji realizes that Qingheng-jun is pellucid and possibly not there.
He must be an illusion, Lan Wangji decides with a heavy heart.
A hand ghosts across his back and overwhelms him with relief. The ache dulls and when Qingheng-jun's hand drifts across his forehead Lan Wangji looses consciousness again.
He jolts awake again when a cold hand comes to rest on his back.
His mother sits at his bedside, a warm smile on her pale lips but worry reflecting in her dark eyes.
She threads a hand through his hair before she gently cups his cheek.
"A-Zhan," she says. No one has called him that since he was a child. ”My beautiful son, what happened?"
Her voice is just as Lan Wangji remembers, yet it is very different—almost hollow—when it echoes in the Jingshi .
"Mother," he manages to say.
His throat feels raw as he blinks tears from his eyes.
"What happened, A-Zhan?" Her voice has a slight edge to it when she asks the question.
His back faintly throbs with pain. He tries to swallow the lump he got in his throat when his father visited but ends up bursting into tears instead. He hates it.
"I–" he tries but the words get stuck in his throat.
His mother closes her eyes—like Xichen does when he is disappointed—and sighs.
"I'm going to kill Lan Qiren," she says but the threat does not have any real heat behind it.
"Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recess," Lan Wangji reminds her.
He receives a laugh in return—eyes bright and teeth on display—a laugh that reminds him too much of someone else he knew.
She takes his hands and squeezes them tightly in hers. Like Qingheng-jun , Madam Lan's hands are cold and transparent.
"Mother," he tries again. "I–"
"I know, A-Zhan," she interrupts, voice soft like velvet.
"You loved him very much, didn't you?" she asks after a moment's hesitation.
His mind blanks for a quick second before he nods to his best ability.
"I did," he confirms. "I still do."
The smile his mother gives him is etched with grief. She brushes away the tears that escape his eyes and holds him once he begins to quietly sob.
"I love him so much," he manages to bite out to his mother's ghost. "And now he's dead."
The word breaks his heart anew. Everything becomes too real one he says it. Too real, it's too much, it hurts. He would do anything to see Wei Ying again. To be able to see his smile again, to see the mischievous gleam in his grey eyes whenever he teased Lan Wangji, or hear him speak of his most recent talisman or what they could do if Lan Wangji ever visited Lotus Pier.
He wishes he had accepted the offer. He wishes there had been enough time for such an event. Maybe things would have come to pass sooner. Maybe they would have grown closer. Maybe Lan Wangji could have admitted his feelings for Wei Ying before it was too late. Maybe Wei Ying could have loved him back. Maybe he could have saved him.
Maybemaybemaybe—
He had loved him, but he still lost him.
And that hurts like hell .
The third time he wakes he cannot breathe. For by his bedside sits Wei Ying, more or less in the flesh. His heart skips a beat.
Lan Wangji reaches out for him, damning his back for screaming with pain when he comes in contact with Wei Ying's clasped hands.
Lan Wangji knows Wei Ying is an illusion. He knows however yet he cannot ponder on the matter further as Wei Ying unclasps his hands, taking Lan Wangji’s outstretched one and intertwining their fingers in one swift movement.
”Lan Zhan,” comes out of his ghostly pale lips.
Wei Ying feels and sounds real—solid in a way Lan Wangji’s parents were not.
"Wei Ying," he whispers, voice heavy with grief that Wei Ying easily detects.
"Oh, my Lan Zhan,” he says and tucks a stray lock behind Lan Wangji’s ear.
Wei Ying's hand lingers by his cheek. Lan Wangji cannot help but to lean into Wei Ying's touch. Hot tears escape his eyes yet again, however this time Lan Wangji is not ashamed as he had been with his parents.
"Wei Ying," he repeats.
The apparition brushes away the tears with his thumb before his cold hand trails down Lan Wangji’s shoulder and arm to his hand.
"My Lan Zhan,” the other says again.
The endearing term cuts a deep wound in Lan Wangji’s heart. Wei Ying had not been his when in life, even if Lan Wangji wholeheartedly had been Wei Ying’s.
He wants to tell him such however the words die on his tongue when Wei Ying gently lifts him—to his best ability—into his arms and sits down. Wei Ying props up the pillow behind him and gently lays Lan Wangji down on his chest in the ghost’s lap.
Wei Ying starts threading through Lan Wangji’s hair with gentle fingers. The latter’s heartbeat quickens.
The sane part of him wants Wei Ying to stop because his heart might break otherwise. However Lan Wangji is human and humans are selfish creatures by nature. His fragile heart does not want Wei Ying to stop, does not want Wei Ying to leave. Lan Wangji wants to go with him.
A silent tear escapes and he takes a shuddering breath, eyes squeezing tightly together as he musters up the courage to utter his next words.
"I do not want to live anymore, Wei Ying," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "Not if you are not here with me."
The fingers in his hair stills but picks up their previous pace a beat later.
"You have to, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying insists. "For our son."
"Our son?"
The words are foreign on Lan Wangji’s tongue.
They have a son?
"Yes," Wei Ying seems to have read his mind.
"A-Yuan," he offers as an explanation when Lan Wangji shoots him a questioning look.
A-Yuan.
Wen Yuan, who's currently at the healer's hut after Lan Wangji begged them to save the young boy before he was dragged away by the disciples for punishment.
The darkness around him dims.
He clings to Wei Ying, nails almost piercing through his ghostly skin, once his consciousness stars to dwindle.
"Wei Ying," his voice does not carry and breaks off at the last syllable. ”Do not leave me again, please.”
He hates how clingy he sounds. The thought quickly escapes him when Wei Ying's arms tighten around him, holding him close.
"Never."
Lan Wangji barely remembers the feverish apparitions of his loved ones when he wakes.
His heart begins to heal.
It takes weeks for the wounds on his back to begin the process of healing, as well as a few weeks of bedrest before the healer agrees to physical activity for Hanguang-jun and lets him go. He begins to move around more but it starts small.
The walks between the Jingshi and the nursery becomes the highlights of Lan Wangji’s days.
A-Yuan had nearly thrown himself at Lan Wangji when he first walked through the door, but had been held back by an older disciple.
Lan Wangji insists on changing A-Yuan’s name from Wen Yuan to Lan Yuan—he is his son after all.
Their son, his heart reminds him.
Lan Wangji is well aware of the rumours circling himself, the boy and the child's mother's identity. Lan Wangji inwardly cringes at the term every time he hears it.
A-Yuan, Lan Wangji finds, has the brightest smile he has ever seen: however it reminds him too much of someone else so for the first time he sees it he nearly has a panic attack.
One day Xichen asks him whether or not he will consider joining society again. Lan Wangji respectfully declines. His internal wounds, as his external, are still too fresh.
He keeps himself as well as A-Yuan far away from the main halls whenever Xichen’s fellow clan leaders visit to discuss political matters with Zewu-jun . Lan Wangji cannot promise his brother—nor himself—that he will not try to bash Sect Leader Jiang’s head in with Bichen if he were to encounter the other.
It is during one of these discussion conferences at the Cloud Recess that Lan Wangji, who is still in seclusion, decides to swoop away his son to the back mountains in order to avoid such encounters with Jiang Wanyin.
A-Yuan lets out a delighted cry at the sight of the small bunnies and lets go of Lan Wangji’s hand to inspect them more closely. Lan Wangji can feel a small smile creeping up on his lips but it is not until he stacks the animals atop his son, who shrieks with laughter as he disappears beneath the mountain of bunnies, that he lets it spread across his face.
They spend about an hour and a half playing with the bunnies until Lan Wangji takes A-Yuan’s hand and heads toward the Jingshi for lunch.
While walking down the path to his quarters A-Yuan babbles about everything between heaven and earth. Lan Wangji is tentatively listening to his son when he spots a fleck of purple in his peripheral vision. His gaze immediately snaps to the colours to find exactly the person he wanted to avoid—Jiang Wanyin, followed by his disciples.
Spite bubbles up in Lan Wangji’s stomach and he hurries their steps (however not as much as to run since running is forbidden in the Cloud Recess) and narrowly avoids the Jiang Clan by taking a wrong turn that will shorten their journey to the Jingshi .
Only once the other clan is out of his sight does he slow down to a fitting pace for A-Yuan to keep up with.
A-Yuan squeezes his hand thoughtfully. ”Is Lan-er-gege alright?” he asks. ”Who was that?”
”I am alright, A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji confirms.
They quietly enjoy the walk for a while until he answers the second question. ”That was Sect Leader Jiang.”
A-Yuan responds with a resounding ’Oh’. ”Does Lan-er-gene not like Sect Leader Jiang?”
Lan Wangji knows that he should set a better example for A-Yuan—one is not meant to be judgemental after all—however a part of him that is still heartbroken takes over.
”No, I do not.”
”Why?”
Lan Wangji ponders upon how to best phrase it—how do you explain to a six-year-old, or to anyone for that matter, what Jiang Wanyin did to Lan Wangji’s only friend?
”Sect Leader Jiang hurt my friend,” he settles upon saying.
A-Yuan nods, a frown settling on his face. ”Is it the friend Lan-er-gege is sad for?”
Lan Wangji falters before nodding. To his surprise, and mild amusement, A-Yuan suddenly stops and pouts defiantly. ”Then I do not like Sect Leader Jiang either.”
He would have snorted if he were anyone else.
”But you should not follow my example, A-Yuan,” he scolds instead. ”Just because I do not like him is my opinion in no way definitive. You may settle on your own opinion of Sect Leader Jiang when you are older. Do you understand?”
The pout his son had displayed quickly disappears with a quick nod before he continued to prattle on about everything and nothing.
It is much later in the night however, when he wakes from another nightmare and cannot sleep for hours, that Lan Wangji decides that maybe it was time.
And therefore, after three years of seclusion and mourning, does Lan Wangji return to society.