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The thing is, is that his leg’s broken.
He’s dealt with worse injuries before, and under greater duress, but this time -
“Wei Ying.”
This time, he has Lan Wangji hovering over him, like the moon itself, shining in the darkness.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, it’s fine, it’s fine. Shouldn’t we focus more on finding the nest of the yao? Something as small as this shouldn’t concern Hanguang-Jun-”
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian sighs noisily, shifting minutely where he’s propped up against the tree, all his weight on his one good leg. “But it’s not that bad! You go on ahead, and I’ll catch up once-”
Lan Wangji’s hand twitches, almost as if he intends to reach out to him. Probably an intent to strike, Wei Wuxian thinks. Part of him smirks at the thought that he’s affected the Second Jade of Lan so much that his vaunted self-control is tested this much.
“Not leaving Wei Ying,” is all Lan Wangji says.
See now, this is the thing. The problem. Because if Lan Wangji went off after the yao like he was supposed to, Wei Wuxian would be able to actually treat the broken leg like he wants to. His pain tolerance is very high now, much higher than it was before the Sunshot Campaign, before the Burial Mounds, before Mo Xuanyu. But even so, there’s only so much he can ignore, and the idea of treating the injury like a spiritual cultivator would treat it rather than how he, demonic cultivator extraordinaire, would prefer to, is weighing rather heavily upon him. He’s only now at the point where he trusts Lan Wangji not to stab him at the first curl of resentful energy, but is far, far from the point where he feels comfortable doing anything more… obvious.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, really,” he tries, “We can’t let those yao get away and carry on like they have been! If Lan Zhan would go on and find where they’re hiding, I can catch up once I’ve dealt with this and we can-”
Now Lan Wangji sighs, just barely, the smallest disturbance in his perfectly measured and even breaths. “Wei Ying. Let me help.”
And then, before Wei Wuxian can protest further, Lan Wangji kneels, dirtying his pristine white Gusu Lan robes in the dust. Even as Wei Wuxian exclaims “Lan Zhan!” he delicately lifts the outer layers of his robe aside, taking hold of the bottom of one of his simpler inner robes. With a casual motion, he unsheathes Bichen, and moves as if he is going to slice away a strip of his own robes.
“Lan Zhan! No, no, no Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protests, crouching quickly without thinking to grasp the wrist of Lan Wangji’s right arm. This jostles his broken leg harshly, and he cannot suppress the sound of pain he makes. Lan Wangji drops his robes at once and reaches up to catch Wei Wuxian by the opposite shoulder, concern in his golden eyes.
“Ah, I really didn’t think that through,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “Anyway, that’s not necessary!”
“Have to bind it,” Lan Wangji says, the barest hint of protestation in his tone. His hand flexes minutely on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.
Ah, forget it, Wei Wuxian thinks, free hand going to Chenqing where it’s tucked into his waist sash. He probably won’t get stabbed for it, and hopefully it’ll disgust the honorable Hanguang-Jun enough to see demonic cultivation in action that he’ll finally listen to Wei Wuxian and go on ahead without him. Without another moment’s hesitation, he lifts the flute to his lips and plays out a bright, sharp series of notes.
Lan Wangji doesn’t flinch, but his eyes find Wei Wuxian’s, looking intent.
“…” Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to explain, but he has to, if Lan Wangji won’t leave him be. “This is faster than binding it,” he eventually says. “Trust me?”
Lan Wangji inclines his head in the smallest of nods. “Mm.”
It takes a bit, and a longer burst of dizi notes, but eventually there’s the faintest rustle of noise in the undergrowth off to one side. Lan Wangji, who has still not sheathed Bichen, tenses, but then glances at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eyes. Something he sees must reassure him, because he slowly calms, thought he does not release his grip on Bichen’s hilt.
The badger hasn’t been dead long- its skeleton is still lined with muscle and fur, though admittedly less… cleanly, when compared to a living animal. Its eyes are milky white, reflecting eerily the moonlight up above. In its jaws is a still struggling squirrel, its red belly fur flashing in and out of view as it thrashes in the badger’s undead grip.
It’s awfully small, Wei Wuxian thinks. He’ll have to be careful not to harm it.
“Here, come here, little one.” He tucks Chenqing away, and accepts the wriggling squirrel from the badger’s jaws. With his free hand, he redirects energy with a few gestures and gently presses on top of the squirrel’s head, and it goes limp and sleepy in his grip.
Lan Wangji makes a tiny noise, and then tenses a bit, as if he hadn’t meant to.
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Hanguang-Jun, ever kind and compassionate!” he teases. “It’s just sleeping. This one wouldn’t want it to hurt itself trying to get away, after all.”
Now that the squirrel is no longer struggling, Wei Wuxian places it gently on the knee of his good leg, stretching the broken one gingerly out in front of him. He reaches into a qiankun bag he had started carrying for this precise purpose, and fishes out a duet of extremely small blades, barely broader than an acupuncturist’s needle.
Brazenly, he brushes aside his robes and goes to tug his trousers down.
Lan Wangji makes a strangled noise and spits “Shameless!” and sits back abruptly, looking sharply to the side, the tips of his ears pink enough to be visible even in the dark of the night.
Grinning widely, Wei Wuxian teases, “Lan Zhan! We’re both men! What could I have to show that you haven’t seen before?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t respond, and Wei Wuxian pouts a little at the non-reaction, before getting back down to business. His sleep seal won’t last forever, even on a body as small as the squirrel’s.
He pulls his trousers down to reveal the ugly, bruised purple and black and red along his mid thigh. He makes a face at it. Just because he’s had worse than this doesn’t mean he’s comfortable like this.
Carelessly, he slices his thumb on the first of the blades, squeezing the incision he creates to draw forth more blood. With practiced strokes, he draws a tiny array across his broken leg, occasionally pausing to squeeze his thumb again. In this quadrant, jian for strength. In that one, kang for healthy.
Lan Wangji makes a questioning noise, and Wei Wuxian looks up to meet intent golden eyes. With a wry smile, Wei Wuxian says, “You’ve never seen a demonic cultivation healing array, have you, Lan Zhan? Of course you haven’t! After all, I made them up!”
He tucks the used blade back away in the qiankun pouch, making a mental note to clean it thoroughly later. Wen Qing had stressed the importance to him too many times before to let him forget it.
Turning to pick up the squirrel, he pauses, flicking a look at Lan Wangji. The Second Jade of Lan is watching him closely, very little hint at what he might be thinking visible on his face.
Probably best not to push it too far, then.
As gently as possible, Wei Wuxian scores a line along the squirrel’s flank with the last blade, just enough to pull beads of red to the surface. Really, this would be done better with something with more blood to spare, but he’s not going to hurt this creature just for the misfortune of having been caught by him.
In the third quadrant, and fourth, and fifth, bu and zheng and yu. Mend and repair and heal. He pauses over the final action- even if he didn’t have an audience, he probably wouldn’t do the final bit anyway, what with the tiny size of the creature.
He shakes his head, and puts the squirrel on the knee of his broken leg, just close enough to be caught in the edges of the array he has drawn. With a gesture and the redirection of a tendril of resentful energy from within him, the array lights up and activates. It burns with cold, as many demonic cultivation arrays do, but even so, he can feel the fractured bone within his leg setting back into place and slowly mending. It won’t do anything for the bruising and muscle injury, but he hadn’t intended it to. Just enough to get him by, and to the yao’s nest, and through the purification. Once he’s back somewhere safe and away from Lan Wangji’s watchful gaze, he can do a more thorough healing.
Also as he intended, the cut along the squirrel’s flank slowly seals shut, leaving only a faint stain of blood to show that it had ever been hurt.
Cautiously, he bends his injured leg back inward, testing the flex and range of motion. It’s still sore, but far better than it was before. It’s certainly no longer broken, at least.
With a smile, he releases the sleeping seal on the squirrel. It rouses muzzily, blinking beady eyes slowly open. Upon realizing it’s within arm’s reach of two humans, it bolts at once, sprinting a straight line away to a nearby tree and up into its branches.
“Thank you, little one!” Wei Wuxian calls cheekily, even though he knows his voice will only frighten the poor thing further. It’s only polite to be grateful for assistance, however grudgingly given.
The sword glare of Bichen flaring a bit brighter draws his attention, and he turns back to Lan Wangji. The other man is leaning in, using the light of the spiritual sword to study the bloody array Wei Wuxian had drawn on his leg. From the surface, the wound looks just as bad as before, as absolutely none of the bruising or swelling had been treated. Golden eyes flick upward to meet silver, and long graceful fingers twitch again as if wanting to reach out and touch.
Wei Wuxian feels a smile creep onto his face without his permission, but he does nothing to hide it. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I told you. This is much faster and better than a splint, eh?” He pulls up his trousers and hides the drying array with no further ado, patting his robes back into place casually. He stands, testing his weight on the injured leg carefully, and then confidently when the twinge is greatly, greatly reduced compared to the feel of broken bone.
Lan Wangji stands too, finally sheathing Bichen. “Healed now?” he asks, his voice unreadable.
Wei Wuxian makes a face and a flopping hand gesture to indicate more or less. “I’ll deal with it more fully later. Good enough for now, right?” He grins at the other man, his hand going to Chenqing on his waist and playing with the tassel there. “Let’s get going!”
With an only barely diminished bounce to his step, he leads the way into the trees, following his sense of the nearby resentful energy. The yao are close, surely and with the combined efforts of Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch, they don’t stand a chance.
Lan Wangji says nothing, but follows him sedately, as ever only a few steps behind.