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Chapter Text

They’re going to sing him to death.

Wen Qing has never had a high opinion of the great sects and their high-handed measures, but she thought better of the Lans. With a reputation and a motto for righteousness, surely she could expect more from them. Wei Wuxian thought better of them, or he would never have agreed to surrender the DafanWen to the GusuLan.

“The Lans are incredibly stuffy, but they’re good people,” he told her. “You’ll be okay with them.”

But perhaps Wei Wuxian had known all along. He’s always acting like he was invincible. Wen Qing would not be surprised to find that he thought this was an acceptable price for just the chance to attend his sister’s wedding, and to remain in YunmengJiang. 

She overheard the argument between Wei Wuxian and his brother–how could she not? This is the agreement they reached. Wei Wuxian returns to Lotus Pier, and the DafanWen go to Gusu. The only reason why the Lans agreed to this was because of their Hanguang-jun. Wen Qing once had a high opinion of him too. She doesn’t anymore.

The only thing the Lans want out of it is to purify Wei Wuxian of resentful energy. Wen Qing stands at the entrance of the Cloud Recesses when she learns this, and suddenly the austere, cold beauty of their ancestral home looks a lot more repressive. Any fool can see that Wei Wuxian is falling apart as he stands. The only thing that’s keeping him together, sometimes literally, is his use of resentful energy. And the Lans want to purge all of it from him, because they cannot tolerate the use of resentful energy. The Lans are righteous, for a given definition of righteousness. 

“Is that the only way,” Wei Wuxian snaps.

There’s a line of Lan elders watching their group with barely-hidden disdain. Wen Qing knows what they look like, this rag-tag group huddled behind Wei Wuxian like half-drowned rats. She sees them frown as they look over Wen Ning. She doesn’t understand how they can look at Wen Yuan and find something unworthy, but that’s their problem, not hers. They’ve agreed to set aside a small valley in Gusu for their use. Wen Qing could get used to that, farming for the rest of her life with her family. It’s a far cry from the Jin prison camps. 

“Yes,” says one of the elders. 

Wen Qing holds her breath and waits for Wei Wuxian to say no. She already can’t believe the selflessness of this man, that he would put aside anything and everything for a group of people he’s never met, who share a name with the Wens who burned Lotus Pier to the ground. All because she asked. 

She waits for Lan Wangji to step in, or for the kind-faced Lan Xichen to speak up. Neither of them do. Lan Wangji looks straight ahead, impassively. He doesn’t so much as look at Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen glances between Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and the elder, looking just a tad worried.  

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian bites out. “On two conditions.”

Lan Xichen loses his worry. “Assuming that the conditions are reasonable, of course.”

“I want Wen Qing to be there.”

Wen Qing’s first reaction is surprise, but her second is understanding. Wei Wuxian has a secret to protect, one only she and Wen Ning know, and her little brother is not an option for so many reasons. All the Lans look at her, then, standing just a step behind Wei Wuxian and refusing to dignify any of them with a smile. It almost feels like she’s back serving under Wen Ruohan again, in that moment. She’s never been the sword or the one who holds it, but she’s always been there to witness, she’s always the one to clean up the mess these blood-minded men leave behind. The Lans look at her and see a doctor.

“That is acceptable,” Lan Xichen says, still smiling. “And your second condition?”

There’s tension in every line of Wei Wuxian’s body. He acts as if he’s being hunted. But is he not being persecuted? Wen Qing wants to demand how they dare ask for his conditions to be reasonable. She wants to shake Wei Wuxian by the shoulders and tell him not to do this. But she is, in the end, still a selfish, selfish, woman. She’ll set aside morals to protect her family. She can’t ask him to do this, but she’ll stand aside and let him. What a terrible person she must be. 

“I want Hanguang-jun to be the one to perform it,” Wei Wuxian says, looking directly at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen’s face crumples in relief, and Lan Wangji finally deigns to look at Wei Wuxian. His expression looks no different than it did before, but something about it seems intense in a way it wasn’t. 

Lan Wangji bows slightly. “It would be my honor,” he says.

Lan Xichen looks relieved, like he’s grateful that his brother wants to do this. Wei Wuxian’s face spasms. Likely he’s in disbelief that Lan Wangji actually agreed. 

“Good.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is dripping with something that sounds like disdain and tastes like sarcasm. “Great. I’ll see you in a week.” 

He whirls around and pushes through the crowd of Wens standing behind him. There’s anger in every footstep, but if Wen Qing has ever seen a man entitled to his anger, it’s Wei Wuxian, right here, right now. She doesn’t try to stop him. The Wens follow behind him silently, down the winding path leading up to the Cloud Recesses. Wen Qing is the last, but she hesitates before she leaves.

“Is this really acceptable to the Lans?” Wen Qing demands. “What if he dies?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t even bother to look at her. Lan Xichen looks nonplussed. The Lan elders look at her like they can’t believe she dares speak to them, but she has to. She owes it to Wei Wuxian to try. 

“Being purified of resentful energy,” says one of the elders, stiffly, “is the only service Wei Wuxian can provide the world.”

“It is better to die a righteous man than to live a dishonorable one,” another intones. 

Wen Qing does not growl at him, does not shout or rage at these self-righteous men. She has spent too long in the court of Wen Ruohan to do that. Instead she inclines her head, just as stiffly. “Very well,” she snaps, and turns to leave.

The Lans are gracious hosts, Wen Qing will give them that. The DafanWen have almost free range of the Cloud Recesses during their move, not that they spend a lot of time there. There’s not a lot that they have to move, only an allocation of resources. The Lans do not have much to spare, which is one of the reasons why they didn’t take Wen prisoners to begin with. And although they make it clear that they don’t have anything to give the Wens, it’s not like Wen Qing was expecting supplies anyway. She and her family are still technically prisoners of war, despite their lack of involvement with the war. 

Their new home is a beautiful little valley about half an hour from the Cloud Recesses by foot, in the opposite direction down the mountain from Caiyi. It’s nothing more than a collection of houses, a small village where the original occupants fled during the Wen occupation of the Cloud Recesses and later never returned, whether it was because they found somewhere better or they died during the war. 

The Wens settle in nicely, dividing the houses up amongst themselves and organizing the little supplies they have. The weather is just starting to warm, but Wen Qing is confident that come next winter, they’ll have crops to trade in the market of Caiyi, in exchange for supplies they’re currently lacking in, be it bolts of cloth for blankets and clothes, or things they can’t make like pots and paper. Wen Ning has offered to hunt, but Wen Qing doesn’t believe that he’ll actually be able to bring himself to kill an animal. He’d probably apologize to target boards if he could. 

Wen Ning is also paraded before a whole host of Lan elders, but they can’t find anything wrong with him other than the fact that he’s supposed to be dead. Some still think that he should be put to rest, but they are gracious enough not to say it to his face. They quickly learn not to say it to Wen Qing’s face, either. Ultimately, their biggest concern is Wei Wuxian. He’s the reason Wen Ning is still walking, after all. He’s a threat to the entire cultivation world, in their eyes.

Surprisingly, Wen Qing finds herself getting along with the Lan medics. They’re straightforward, and share her distaste for violence. She thinks it a shame she was not born into the Lan clan. She thinks she could’ve fit in here. 

“What are the chances that I actually die?” Wei Wuxian says off-handedly one day, when Wen Qing picks up the argument with him again. 

He’s been avoiding his precious Lan Zhan, which Wen Qing finally realized because Lan Wangji eventually came to her trying to find him. Wen Qing finds herself resenting Wei Wuxian, then, for the secrets he’s forcing her to keep. She can’t believe Lan Wangji thinks that Wei Wuxian would want to talk to him, if he’s not begging him to take it back, which is not exactly Wei Wuxian’s style. Wen Qing is very much accustomed to backstabbing from living under Wen Ruohan’s roof, but this is different. The Lans were supposed to be righteous, for one. Wei Wuxian has always spoken so highly of Lan Wangji, and so familiarly, but apparently their friendship was only extended to a Wei Wuxian who did not use demonic cultivation. Is he looking to explain himself to Wei Wuxian? Wen Qing can’t say she’s surprised that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to hear it. She wouldn’t either.

“At least fifty percent,” Wen Qing answers.

Wei Wuxian smiles, like that’s good news. “See? That’s not so bad! I’ve beaten those odds before!”

“That’s not how it works, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing argues. “And what will you do afterwards?”

Wei Wuxian just shrugs. “Pick up demonic cultivation again,” he says. “I never said that I wouldn’t.”

Wen Qing strides forward and blocks his path. Wei Wuxian is trying to rush past her again, in a hurry to get back to the little Wen village, mostly because it’s farther away from Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji has taken to traveling down here every morning, though, so she doesn’t think it’ll last very long. 

“Are you really okay with this?” Wen Qing demands. “I know you’ve been avoiding Lan Wangji.”

He shrugs again. “I didn’t really think they would,” he admits. His tone becomes drier than dust. “After all, killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.” Wei Wuxian finally looks at her, pasting a bright smile on his face. “So I’ve just got to live!” 

As if it’s that simple.

Still, when Wen Qing is walking through the Cloud Recesses, she sometimes slows down while she passes Lan Wangji’s house. Inside sits Hanguang-jun, sombre notes floating through the air from his guqin. He sits as straight and proper as ever, but there’s the tiniest of frowns on his face, just the slight knitting of his brows, as he practices diligently for the day of the ritual.

Wen Qing clenches her fists, fantasizes of breaking his stupid guqin over his head, and walks away.

Lan Qiren is confused when Wei Wuxian first shows up. Wei Wuxian requested a week to help the DafanWen settle into their new home, and the Lan elders agreed, or so Lan Qiren heard. He knows that Wangji also wants the week to practice for the ritual. So he can’t imagine what business Wei Wuxian has with him.

“Master Lan,” Wei Wuxian says, more politely than Lan Qiren can ever remember him being. “I have a proposal.”

It would be rude to refuse him, so Lan Qiren wordlessly gestures for Wei Wuxian to sit across from him, and pours tea. If Wei Wuxian has come with another ridiculous theory of his, or if he’s looking to weasel his way out of the ritual he agreed to, Lan Qiren is fully comfortable kicking him out. In all honesty, he was pleasantly surprised when Wei Wuxian agreed to the ritual. His opinion of the so-called Yiling Patriarch rose just a notch. 

“I have a…very important explanation,” Wei Wuxian says, once he has sat. “And I ask that you not tell anyone.”

Lan Qiren frowns. He is certainly no gossip, but he will not lie if asked. “Very well.”

Wei Wuxian looks assured, despite his grimace. He pulls out a document, and slides it over to Lan Qiren, who reads the title Theory on the Transfer of Golden Cores, author Wen Qing, before he notices Wei Wuxian gingerly rolling up his sleeve. 

It’s absurdly easy to connect the dots. 

Lan Qiren grimaces as well, but he still presses two fingers to the exposed wrist. It takes only a moment to confirm before he pulls his hand away. Wei Wuxian lets his sleeve fall back down, and Lan Qiren is left a mixture of astonished and confused. Wei Wuxian has no golden core. He glances between the medical theory on the table in front of him and the demonic cultivator across from him.

“Why?” Is the only thing Lan Qiren can think of to say.

“I needed you to understand that I learned demonic cultivation because I had to, not because I wanted to,” Wei Wuxian answers. 

It starts to make sense to Lan Qiren. Just a few years ago even this would not have excused Wei Wuxian, but now Lan Qiren has witnessed the great library of the Cloud Recesses burning, has seen his nephew get his leg broken and then be hauled off for the Wen “training camp.” He knows the damage dealt to Lotus Pier, and understands why Wei Wuxian would have felt the need to learn, once he no longer had a golden core. 

Still. “Why did you not say you lost a golden core?” Lan Qiren asks.

Wei Wuxian curls in defensively, just a little. “He doesn’t know how his golden core got fixed.”

Lan Qiren wants to ask who he is, and how he can possibly not know that his golden core was replaced at the cost of Wei Wuxian’s core. But it is not any of his business, even though he has a good guess as to who it is. And it is not his place to reveal this secret, so Lan Qiren takes this answer at face value. If nothing else, it raises his opinion of Wei Wuxian again. 

Instead of asking any of this, Lan Qiren sets the golden core theory aside. “What is your proposal?”

Wei Wuxian straightens. “I know that people look to me and think that they can try their hand at demonic cultivation. I thought if anyone could help me explain just how dangerous demonic cultivation can be, it would be you.”

This…is not something Lan Qiren is against. He is, in fact, an advocate against the use of demonic cultivation. He thinks he might find Wei Wuxian agreeable, now that he knows that Wei Wuxian feels the same way. In fact, he rather approves of Wei Wuxian’s willingness to lose his only power left. 

“What would this entail?”

Wei Wuxian spreads his hands and shrugs. “I know a lot about demonic cultivation. I imagine you have a lot of things you want to say to demonic cultivators. I thought together we could explain why it’s a bad idea, or at least teach people how to not hurt themselves or others.”

Lan Qiren strokes his beard in thought. “I am…amendable.”

Wei Wuxian finally smiles. “Do you think we’ll be able to finish before the end of the week?”

Lan Qiren isn’t sure why Wei Wuxian will not be able to help after the purification ritual, but then, he’s not the demonic cultivator. “Possibly,” he says instead.

Wei Wuxian’s face melts in relief. “That’s good,” he says, and doesn’t explain.

Jiang Cheng shows up on the fifth day.

He glowers the whole way while Wen Qing shows him to the room where Wei Wuxian is staying temporarily. Part of the unspoken agreement is that Wei Wuxian will return to normal cultivation. Wen Qing doesn’t know how Wei Wuxian plans to explain his continued refusal, but a part of her suspects that Wei Wuxian is hoping to need no plan at all.

“You’re returning to Lotus Pier after the ritual,” Jiang Cheng says. “You’ve been avoiding your teaching responsibilities for long enough.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t put up a fight, and that’s when Wen Qing knows. But if he thinks that she’ll let him go without a fight, he’s dead wrong. Screw the Lans and their rituals; they’re not taking Wei Wuxian from the world just yet.   

“Let’s just get this whole business over with,” Jiang Cheng continues. “I thought you weren’t going to agree to it for a bit back in the Burial Mounds.” He looks pathetically relieved.

“I didn’t think the Lans would agree to it,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng says uncomfortably. “Lucky for us they did, right?” He looks at the wall. “You have to come to A-Li’s wedding one way or another. We’ve been planning that since we were kids.”

Wei Wuxian swallows nothing. “Right,” he says. “Can’t miss it, even if she is marrying the peacock.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t look very close to joining in on their usual jokes. Wen Qing should probably stop spying on them now, but she still feels like something’s about to go wrong.

“I’m just glad you agreed,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly. “This whole resentful energy business really hasn’t been good for you. You’ve been…wasting away.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says tightly.

“Not in a–” bad way, Jiang Cheng doesn’t say, because there’s really no good way to waste away. He clears his throat needlessly. “Whatever,” he mutters. “At least you agreed.” He hesitates before reaching out. “Do you want me to be there?”

“No!” Wei Wuxian says, immediately and violently. He regrets his tone, if the way Jiang Cheng’s face shutters closed is any indication. “Jiang Cheng, wait, I meant–”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng says shortly. He stands up. “I’ll see you afterwards, Wei Wuxian.”

Sect Leader Jiang strides out the doorway in an angry whirl of violet robes. Too soon, he vanishes up the mountain.

“Fuck.” Wei Wuxian buries his head in his hands. His shoulders shake.

Wen Qing decides it’s high time she stops eavesdropping, and she starts to move away as well when Wei Wuxian speaks again.

“He’s right, you know, Wen Qing.”

Wen Qing stops and walks around the little cottage to sit down properly across from Wei Wuxian. She won’t insult both of them by pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

“I’m wasting away,” Wei Wuxian elaborates, once she sits down. “My body’s been decaying ever since I got thrown into the Burial Mounds,” he says bitterly.

Wen Qing can’t deny it. She remembers how Wei Wuxian looked before she did the core transfer. And even back then, when he was crushed under the loss of his home and his adopted family, still injured by Madame Yu and the Xuanwu cave, he looked so much healthier than he does now. His complexion is pallid, his skin is unhealthily pale. He’s too thin for a proper Head Disciple, and his eyes are constantly accentuated with bags. He drinks too much and smiles less. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Wen Qing says.

“I do,” Wei Wuxian snaps. “It’s the only way everyone’s happy.”

And what about you? Wen Qing thinks. What about your happiness? “What about the Lans?” Wen Qing presses. “Didn’t you say killing is forbidden?”

“They know what they’re doing,” Wei Wuxian says abrasively. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “There’s always exceptions. I’m sure Zewu-jun didn’t hesitate when escaping the Wens that were burning down his home.”

“You’re still going to make Lan Wangji a murderer,” Wen Qing says.

“He knows what he’s doing!” Wei Wuxian stands suddenly, furiously. He’s almost snarling at her. “I mean, just look at me.” He gestures at himself, disgusted. “What does he think is going to happen? My body’s being held together by demonic cultivation and sheer willpower!”

“You asked him–”

“He wasn’t supposed to agree!” Wei Wuxian cries. He sinks back into his seat. “Fuck. It’s always been like this. I should’ve known. I used to do the most ridiculous things to get his attention, and then he’d–like it’s another game of chicken. He thinks he’s calling my bluff. Fuck, I was supposed to go to Yanli’s wedding.”

Wei Wuxian buries his head in his hands again. His breath rattles in the air. “Fuck,” he says again quietly, and nothing more.

Lan Qiren finds that he has grown far more tolerable of Wei Wuxian’s presence in the past week. He finds that when Wei Wuxian is not interrupting his lectures, and actually listening to him, their interactions go a lot smoother. He also finds that when he himself listens to Wei Wuxian, now that his crazy theories are, in fact, reality, he can appreciate how incredibly fast Wei Wuxian’s mind works. He knew back when Wei Wuxian was a guest disciple here that Wei Wuxian was a brilliant student who simply didn’t apply himself, but now he knows that Wei Wuxian does apply himself–to things he finds worthy of his attention.

Lan Qiren thought it would be a disaster, meeting with Wei Wuxian for several hours everyday, but three days in he finds that it has gone astonishingly well. His opinion of Wei Wuxian has changed rather dramatically in the past three days. But it isn’t until he takes lunch with his eldest nephew on the third day that he begins to think past the purification ritual at the end of the week.

“I had not realized you were meeting with Wei Wuxian, Uncle,” Lan Xichen says.

“Hm.” It is their tradition to meet before lunch once a week, but Lan Qiren put him off for after lunch in order to finish working with Wei Wuxian. “It was not my intent to keep you waiting.”

“No, I understand, Uncle,” Xichen says. “Only, I thought that you and Young Master Wei…did not get along.”

“I did not think so either,” Lan Qiren admits. “However, we have been working on a manual warning of the dangers of demonic cultivation, and he insists that we must finish this week. He is…tolerable.” 

Personally, he thinks that Wei Wuxian's insistence on finishing before the end of the week is because after the ritual, Wei Wuxian plans on returning to Lotus Pier and never coming back. Lan Qiren's not yet willing to admit to himself that he’s had more interesting discussions with Wei Wuxian than he has had with any Lan, and he’ll perhaps miss them once Wei Wuxian is gone.

Xichen raises his eyebrows. “Yet you still find him to be abrasive and rude?”

“He is certainly not…polite,” Lan Qiren says. He previously found Wei Wuxian outrageous for his casual abandonment of cultivation, but of course that makes sense now. For the sake of honesty, he continues. “I find him to be an upstanding young man, of righteous character. Surprisingly,” he adds, for old times’ sake. 

His nephew certainly looks surprised, but he recovers quickly. “That is…quite fortunate,” Xichen says, breaking into a relieved smile. “Does that mean you would be amenable to thinking of Wei Wuxian as a potential future nephew-in-law?”

Lan Qiren feels a cold chill. “You…?” He is so not ready to talk about this with Xichen.

Fortunately, Xichen looks briefly panicked. “No, certainly not,” Xichen says hastily.

“Then Wangji…?” Lan Qiren questions, and gets his confirmation when Xichen looks vaguely guilty. So Wangji has a crush on Wei Wuxian. That is…not something Lan Qiren had been expecting. But he believes Xichen, which means he now has to consider Wei Wuxian as a potential future nephew-in-law. 

To his surprise, he finds the idea tolerable. 

“Do you think Wei Wuxian would be agreeable?” Xichen asks, with just a hint of desperation that tells Lan Qiren that Xichen has been trying to set them up for a while. 

“I do not know,” Lan Qiren answers. 

Nowhere in the past three days of conversations has Wei Wuxian’s love life come up, and Lan Qiren hopes it never will. There is, however, the issue of Wei Wuxian’s golden core. The other elders would never approve of Wangji marrying a non-cultivator, though of course they need not know of Wei Wuxian’s loss. But Wangji ought to, if they are to marry. 

“Perhaps they may discuss it after the ritual,” Xichen suggests.

Lan Qiren strokes his beard. “Indeed.”

It takes Lan Qiren until the end of the week to unravel the final mystery. He is sitting across from Wei Wuxian again, as they survey the pile of notes and tentative manuscript that they’ve pain-stakingly compiled over the past week, and he wonders why me? 

Wei Wuxian could have gone to any of the Lans. He could have even gone to Wen Qing, as the highly-praised doctor who already knew his secret. But more indicatively, Wei Wuxian could have gone to Lan Xichen or Lan Wangji, and instead he chose Lan Qiren, who he knew to dislike him. Why?

Wei Wuxian assembles their rough draft proudly. “You’ll finish the rest?” He says, flashing Lan Qiren an empty smile. He’s been smiling less and less over the past week.

Lan Qiren supposes that Wei Wuxian’s part is done, and he’s likely eager to return to Lotus Pier. He still finds it a little impolite to simply leave Lan Qiren to do the rest of the work. But then again, this is more or less what Lan Qiren agreed to at the beginning. 

“After the ritual,” Lan Qiren agrees, and catches a hint of a grimace on Wei Wuxian’s face before it’s wiped away by another empty smile. It is then that he puts it together, all of Wei Wuxian’s grimaces and refusal to so much as say “ritual.”

All at once it is so obvious why Wei Wuxian chose to come to him: he trusted Lan Qiren to not care. Lan Qiren could not have been Wei Wuxian’s top pick for “Lan to spill secret to.” He could, however, reasonably be considered to be the Lan who dislikes him the most. If he were a lesser man, he might find a way to get Wei Wuxian out of the ritual. His demonic cultivation offers untold powers, ones that the Lans would have access to if Wei Wuxian does in fact become a member of the inner clan. Moreover, Lan Qiren has spent the last week reviewing just how toxic its use is, and how dangerous its effects can be for Wei Wuxian, especially since he does not have a golden core. 

Wei Wuxian rises to leave. The next time Lan Qiren planned on seeing him was after the ritual, but he finds he has something to say before Wei Wuxian leaves. 

“Wei Wuxian,” he calls.

Wei Wuxian stops at the entrance and turns around, looking almost hopeful for a moment.

Because if Lan Qiren did not care about Wei Wuxian, did not care about his health, what would the point of the ritual be? Lan Qiren is against the use of demonic cultivation because of its corruptive capabilities and its harm to the user, though in truth he thinks Wei Wuxian has the highest chance out of everyone of successfully turning it into a proper, safe method of cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian went to Lan Qiren trusting that his old teacher wouldn’t care, but Lan Qiren finds that he does. 

Lan Qiren clears his throat. “I believe you made a mistake in judging my character,” he says stiffly, because that is as close as he can come to saying I care. “Therefore the ritual will proceed tomorrow.”

He watches as Wei Wuxian looks first confused, and then his face settles into something blank. Wei Wuxian nods stiffly and leaves without a word. It is not quite the reaction Lan Qiren expected, but he imagines that it is quite the inner conflict for Wei Wuxian, who is doubtless eager to be rid of resentful energy, but also scared of living as a powerless person. 

Lan Qiren holds out hope that he can cultivate again, as his core was not destroyed but surgically removed. Before this week, he saw the ritual as good for the cultivation world in general. But now, he sees the purification ritual as really, truly, for Wei Wuxian’s own health.

Wei Wuxian walks the winding path down the mountain back to the new Wen village on shaking legs. He refuses to cry, but a small part of him wants to. It’s not like he’s particularly close with Master Lan. Before this week, he would’ve said that Lan Qiren disliked him the most out of all the Lans. But he thought something changed this week, or at least he assumed it did. Lan Qiren actually seemed to listen to him, and care about what Wei Wuxian had to say. Perhaps Wei Wuxian is the fool for thinking that meant something. 

You made a mistake, he said, and clearly Wei Wuxian did. He hadn’t quite hoped that this week would be enough to change Lan Qiren’s mind about the evils of demonic cultivation–it’s all they’ve talked about, after all–but maybe he thought he could show that he had it under control. But of course, the Lans have already agreed to the purification ritual. They cannot possibly go back on their word.

The Cloud Recesses disappear from sight as Wei Wuxian treks further and further down the dirt path, until the view is entirely covered by trees. The next time Wei Wuxian will see it will be the morning of the purification ritual. He breathes in the heavy scent of pines and wishes, for the last time, that ritual could’ve taken place in Lotus Pier, where the air smells of lotuses, spice, and home. He thinks he almost would not mind it, that way. 

Wei Wuxian made a mistake in thinking that Lan Qiren could possibly care about him, but he refuses to believe that the manual itself is a mistake. He doesn’t want to leave a legacy of demonic cultivation behind him, and he trusts that Lan Qiren will finish it and hopefully mitigate some of the damage Wei Wuxian unwittingly caused by inventing demonic cultivation.

Wei Wuxian heads down the mountain for what is quite possibly his last evening, and wonders who will miss him once he’s gone. 

Chapter Text

“He’s avoiding me.”

Lan Xichen stands over his little brother, who is sitting despondently in front of his guqin. This is Wangji’s final practice before the actual ritual, though in truth Lan Xichen thinks that Wangji has perfected it for a while now. He hides a wince, though he cannot deny the fact that Wei Wuxian has been avoiding Wangji.

A small part of him hopes that Wei Wuxian is avoiding Wangji for the same reason that Wangji blushes anytime Wei Wuxian’s second request is mentioned: he has a crush. 

“Perhaps he does not know what to say to you,” Lan Xichen offers.

“Hm.” Wangji looks unconvinced. To be fair, Lan Xichen does not think he’s ever seen Wei Wuxian at a loss for words. “Perhaps.”

“But it is a good sign, is it not, that he agreed?” Lan Xichen presses. 

He’d worried, before this week, that Wei Wuxian had changed irrevocably. But apparently he is willing to give up resentful energy and return to regular cultivation, which can only be a good sign. Their uncle has also gone a complete 180 in his opinion of Wei Wuxian during their daily conversations. He even agreed to consider Wei Wuxian as Lan Wangji’s future cultivation partner. Lan Xichen would go so far as to say that he approves. Of course, all this depends on what Wei Wuxian himself thinks of the matter, and Lan Xichen knows that Wei Wuxian is not someone to marry simply because of reputation or status, which would win Wangji almost any other person’s hand in marriage. 

“Mn,” Wangji agrees, looking pleased.

“And he requested you, specifically,” Lan Xichen adds.

The tips of Wangji’s ears flush red, though he must know what Lan Xichen is doing. In Lan Xichen’s opinion, Wangji is truly the most logical choice to carry out the ritual. He does not know Wei Wuxian well enough to say whether that was his reasoning as well. He does, however, know Wangji very well, and knows that beyond duty, Wangji is truly honored to be chosen. 

“He trusts you to conduct the ritual properly,” Lan Xichen continues. “He trusts you to do it safely.”

Wangji ducks his head, but he doesn’t quite manage to hide the small smile blossoming on his face. “Mn,” he agrees again, because that’s the only logical conclusion to Wei Wuxian asking for him specifically.

Lan Xichen, in truth, is not wrong. But it is not until it is too late that he questions what, exactly, Wei Wuxian trusts his brother to do.

All of the Wens pitch in to offer Wei Wuxian the best they have to offer on the final night.

None of them like eating alone, so every evening they take their tables and chairs out of their little cottages and converge as one big family to eat dinner together. This night is no different, but there’s an aura around Wei Wuxian that makes him seem far more alone than he really is. Wen Ning finally managed to hunt game, so they’re eating meat for the first time in a long time. 

“This is your last chance to back out,” Wen Qing says quietly to Wei Wuxian, who picks despondently at his food but doesn’t eat.

“I’m not backing out,” Wei Wuxian says tiredly. 

“I wouldn’t hold it against you,” Wen Qing says, for what feels like the thousandth time. “None of us would. You’ve already done so much for us. You don’t need to do this.”

“I already agreed,” Wei Wuxian says unhappily. 

“But what about your family?” Wen Qing presses. “Sect Leader Jiang, and Lady Jiang…and Lan Wangji. Have you thought about them?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cries. It sounds like it was supposed to be derisive, but his voice cracks in the middle. He lays his head down on the table, pushing his plate of food away. “Lan Zhan,” he says again, almost wistfully. “He won’t miss me.”

Don’t you wish he would, though? Wen Qing thinks, but doesn’t say. “Will you not ask for someone else to conduct the ritual, at least?”

“Why would I do that,” Wei Wuxian says crossly, refusing to look at her. “I already asked for Lan Zhan.”

“But you thought he wouldn’t agree,” Wen Qing counters. She doesn’t bring up Wei Wuxian’s rather obvious infatuation with Lan Wangji, because she feels it’s rather unfair to both of them.

“But if it has to be someone, I’d rather it be him,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He blinks afterwards, looking surprised that he said it out loud. 

“Why?” Wen Qing demands.

“Because,” Wei Wuxian says, and doesn’t explain. He avoids talking to Wen Qing and returns to his dinner, where he avoids the meat and eats the potatoes. “At least I know he’ll do it right,” Wei Wuxian says eventually.

“So would Zewu-jun,” Wen Qing points out. “Would you not rather it be anyone but your…friend?’

“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian admits. “But.” He looks away from her again, continues pretending his food is far more interesting, when he can barely stand to shovel it down. “I don’t know. I don’t. It’s just. I trust Lan Zhan.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know!” Wei Wuxian cries. He gives up on eating, and buries his face in his hands. Wen Qing gives up on restraining herself, and gives Wei Wuxian the hug no one else will give him tonight. “It’s just Lan Zhan,” he says into his hands. “It’s alright if it’s Lan Zhan. It’s alright.”

It’s not alright. Wei Wuxian continues shaking, and Wen Qing continues hugging him, and it’s the very furthest thing from alright.

When the day arrives, Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian both hike up the mountain to the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian spends almost an hour saying goodbye to everyone; first Wen Ning, then all the aunts and uncles, then Granny, then A-Yuan, the Wen Ning again, then A-Yuan again, until Wen Qing finally forces him to leave. She feels like a monster for doing it, but they agreed to meet a certain time. Wei Wuxian is the one who said he wouldn’t chicken out.

They make their way to the discipline pavilion, and Wei Wuxian chatters the whole way there, pointing to every place they pass and naming another memory to Wen Qing. She can’t help but notice that many of the memories involve Lan Wangji. But she doesn’t point that out to him, or tell him to shut up like she usually would. Wen Qing feels like it’s the least she can do for him, listen to his rambling on the way. It’s only thirty minutes, after all. She’ll have to live with the consequences for the rest of her life. 

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are waiting for them in the discipline pavilion, and Wei Wuxian only hesitates for the barest moments before skipping over the stones. 

“It’s been a long time since we were both here, right Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says with false cheer. 

Lan Wangji doesn’t bother to respond, and Wen Qing is unreasonably mad at him for it. He could at least dignify Wei Wuxian with a response. She stands on the edge of the pavilion, across from Lan Xichen. Making friends with the Lan healers has its advantages, namely, having access to the best medicine the Lans have to offer. If there’s any place Wei Wuxian will recover, it’ll be the Cloud Recesses. The Jiangs are still rebuilding their medic wing. 

Instead of responding, Lan Wangji just sits down on the stones, placing his guqin in position. Again, Wei Wuxian wavers, but he plonks himself down in front of Lan Wangji. He crosses his legs and settles into a vaguely meditative pose. 

Lan Xichen notices his hesitation. “It is brave of you to go through with this, Young Master Wei,” he says, still smiling, smiling, smiling. 

Wen Qing wants to punch him in his pretty face. She’s always disdained violence, but she always thought that good men with power didn’t exist. Then she met Wei Wuxian, who is undeniably powerful and inexhaustibly good. She understands now why people follow these men to the ends of the world. Why her own brother would. 

“Please, Zewu-jun,” Wei Wuxian says. His eyes are closed, and his smile is tight. “Let’s just get it over with.”

And Lan Wangji begins to play.

In the end, it’s rather peaceful. Lan Wangji is an expert musician, and the piece he plays could be considered calming, beautiful even, under different circumstances. Wei Wuxian doesn’t make a sound. His smile fades as the resentful energy comes pouring out of him. The shadows hiss, quietly, as they rise over the columns of the pavilion. But Lan Wangji is an expert cultivator, as is Lan Xichen. They handle it with ease, dispersing and banishing it.

Wen Qing’s fingers begin to twitch when she sees Wei Wuxian’s old wounds begin to open up, but she forces herself to wait for the Lan brothers to finish. In the end, it only takes three minutes.

Lan Wangji finishes his song, and finally looks up from his guqin. Lan Xichen began to look worried about halfway through, but they both look worried when Wei Wuxian slumps over onto the stones.

It’s only been three minutes, but Wei Wuxian’s body has already begun to decay. He lands with his forehead down, his wild mane of black hair spilling over his head. Wen Qing immediately starts not-quite running, but Lan Wangji gets there faster.

He sets his guqin aside, golden eyes wide. “Wei Ying!” Within a moment, he’s gathered Wei Wuxian in his arms like a friend, like a lover.

Lan Wangji pulls Wei Wuxian upright, lets his head roll back onto his shoulder, and doesn’t let go even when blood begins to soak his white robes.

“Let go,” Wen Qing snaps. She stands next to the two of them, but she knows she can’t actually make Lan Wangji let go, so she doesn’t try. But she needs to act soon to save Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji glares at her, like it’s her fault, and doesn’t let go. He instead shifts his grip, and tries to pass Wei Wuxian spiritual energy. His fingers move to Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and Wen Qing reaches out and grabs his arm, ignoring the rudeness, and tries to yank his hand away from Wei Wuxian. She fails, and then it’s too late. His golden eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger when he looks at Wen Qing.

“Where is his–”

“Don’t you dare,” Wen Qing interrupts harshly. “It’s bad enough that you–you weren’t supposed to touch him. Who gave you the right?” But she still can’t pull him off, so she just directs the full force of her anger on him, dares him to respond.

Mostly he just looks confused, as well as angry. “What did you do?”

“Lady Wen,” says Lan Xichen, stepping forwards from his side of the pavilion. “I don’t understand. What went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong,” Wen Qing spits. “It did exactly what you wanted it to do. You got what you wanted. Now can you please give him to me so I can make sure he doesn’t die.” She’s so tired of being polite to these damn Lans.

Lan Wangji only pulls Wei Wuxian closer. “What did you do to Wei Ying,” he demands. His glare is ice-cold, but Wen Qing refuses to be cowed by him.

“What did I do?” Wen Qing retorts, though she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “What did you do! Now give him here, Hanguang-jun!”

“L’n Zh’n,” Wei Wuxian says weakly, stirring in Lan Wangji’s arms.

Lan Wangji looks down, his golden eyes horrified. His face is less than an inch from Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying.”

“L’t…me go,” Wei Wuxian manages, before his silver eyes close again. 

Finally, Lan Wangji lays him gently down on the cold stones, though he doesn’t stop glaring at Wen Qing when she gets close. She ignores him, though, and reaches for her medical supplies.

“Why does he not have a golden core?” Lan Wangji asks quietly.

Wen Qing doesn’t stop her work, or even spare him a glance. “That’s not my secret to tell, Hanguang-jun.” 

This was at least part of the reason Wei Wuxian asked for her to be here: to protect his secret. And she failed, because Lan Wangji swept him up in his arms, like his personal savior. She doesn’t let it show, but she hates herself, a little, for failing to do this one thing for Wei Wuxian. Now all she can do is pray that Lan Wangji will deign to keep a secret. 

She still doesn’t understand why Lan Wangji rushed forwards to pull Wei Wuxian into his arms. But Wen Qing is beginning to think that when Lan Wangji said it would be his honor, he meant something other than the empty gesture of formality that Wen Qing took it to be. 

“What do you mean, it did what it was supposed to do?” Lan Xichen asks. He stands behind his brother, looking oh-so worried. 

“You purged him of resentful energy,” Wen Qing says flatly. “He’s free.” She could go on, and explain how Wei Wuxian’s body is a spider web of wounds and scars, or how he never fully healed from his time in the Burial Mounds–how could he? She could explain the wounds that are opening up again now, but she doesn’t owe them anything. 

“But…he’s dying,” Lan Xichen persists. He turns accusing eyes on her. “You would make my brother a murderer?”

“You did,” Wen Qing hisses. She pulls off Wei Wuxian’s outer robes right there in the discipline pavilion, no doubt eschewing generations of decency. “‘It is better to die a righteous man to live a dishonorable one,’” she quotes viciously. 

He looks horrified. “We did not think you meant that seriously,” Lan Xichen protests.

“What did you think I was, joking?” Wen Qing snaps. She tries desperately to focus. “Please do not disturb me, Zewu-jun,” she says stiffly. “I am trying to save his life.” She can only hope that he’ll live to see his sister get married.

The Lans listen to her, somehow. But they don’t go away. They just watch Wen Qing lose herself in her work, as she tries desperately to preserve the life of this beautiful, broken man, while his body gives up on itself and tries to decay, before he can even turn twenty-one.

Lan Wangji continues kneeling on Wei Wuxian’s other side. His hands are clenched in his lap, and he’s looking down. But Wen Qing notices, despite her urgent fixation on Wei Wuxian, when Lan Wangji bows his head, and silently begins to weep.

“What do you mean, he’s dying?”

Lan Qiren usually has the presence of mind to be polite in front of a lady. This is not a usual circumstance, and Wen Qing doesn’t even look fazed.

Wei Wuxian is lying in his hospital bed, pale as death. His hair is washed and combed, for once, and he’s in his red under robes underneath the bedsheets. He hasn’t woken up since he asked Lan Zhan to let him go. His torso is covered in bandages, and his neck is covered in old, faded bruises that never got a chance to heal before Wei Wuxian started using resentful energy in place of a golden core. Chenqing lies by his bedside. 

Wen Qing has just finished changing his bandages. She straightens at Lan Qiren’s accusing words. Wen Qing has done all she can, for now. It is now up to Wei Wuxian to wake up. So she sets her shoulders and faces the four men pacing or glowering or staring in disbelief. 

“He’s not dying,” Wen Qing placates. She never thought she would need to assure them that Wei Wuxian won’t die. “He’s currently in an unstable condition.”

“Why?” Lan Qiren bites out.

Wen Qing resists the urge to throw up her hands. “What do you mean, why? He’s been completely drained of resentful energy. He has to recover from that.”

“What are the odds?” Jiang Cheng demands. The young Jiang leader is pacing back and forth at the foot of Wei Wuxian’s bed, twisting Zidian over and over. Now he stops and turns to face Wen Qing, an urgent question on his lips.

“About fifty-fifty,” Wen Qing says. “He’s incredibly stubborn. I’d give him higher odds.” Her higher odds are fifty-fifty, but there’s no need for them to know that.

“Why is that something he must recover from?” Lan Qiren demands. 

Wen Qing does throw up her hands at this. “Because! He’s drained of resentful energy!”

“You thought we would knowingly kill him,” Lan Xichen repeats, distressed. 

“You said you would!” Wen Qing says. They seem to be doing little else but repeat themselves. 

“He should be healing,” Lan Qiren insists. 

The three men circle in closer, crowding Wen Qing, demanding answers. She refuses to be cowed but she is scared, to tell the truth. She tightens her grip on her acupuncture needles defensively. 

“Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen says, for the hundredth time.

“Did he know this would happen?” Jiang Cheng demands.

“He asked me to perform the ritual,” a fourth voice interrupts from behind them. The three men break off from glaring at Wen Qing to face Lan Wangji, who stands still on the other side of the room. He looks absolutely miserable. “Why?”

Wen Qing is beginning to think Wei Wuxian’s infatuation with Lan Wangji might not have been so one-sided. Which is why she can’t understand why Lan Wangji agreed to go through with the ritual.

“He…didn’t think you’d agree,” Wen Qing offers lamely.

“But I did,” Lan Wangji says flatly. “Why did he not change his mind, afterwards?”

“He wanted it to be you,” Wen Qing says. “He trusted you to do it right.”

“I see.” Lan Wangji’s words are short and clipped. He doesn’t clench his fists, but he was crying not that long ago. 

Wen Qing doesn’t dare voice her own theory on why Wei Wuxian wanted it to be him. She might not be right, for one, and if she is, it’s not her place to say.

“I am at a loss,” Lan Qiren professes. “Why did he learn demonic cultivation, if not because he–” He breaks off suddenly, and glances quickly at Jiang Cheng before looking away. 

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, who both have learned of Wei Wuxian’s core, also studiously look everywhere but Jiang Cheng. The Lans really are terrible liars. 

“What is it?” Jiang Cheng snaps testily. He glances uneasily from person to person, afraid of what they know that he doesn’t. 

“He didn’t want you to know,” Wen Qing evades.

“How did the ritual inflict all these wounds?” Lan Qiren points a furious finger at Wei Wuxian’s body.

“What didn’t he want me to know?” Jiang Cheng demands harshly. He fists are clenched, and when he takes a step forward, Zidian flashes. 

“It didn’t inflict the wounds,” Wen Qing says crossly. “They just never healed properly. Did you think the Burial Mounds were conducive to his health?”

“The Burial Mounds?” Lan Xichen echoes.

“He never talked about that,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “He never–he doesn’t talk about anything.”

“Wen Chao bragged that he threw Wei Ying in the Burial Mounds,” Lan Wangji says. “I believed him to be lying.” His eyes dart over to Wei Wuxian, and they narrow in rage as he makes a connection. “If these are old wounds, who strangled him?” 

All five of them look over at Wei Wuxian to see the splotchy green and black bruises choking Wei Wuxian’s throat. Wen Qing is the only to see Jiang Cheng look away guiltily. 

“He did not tell us about the Burial Mounds,” Lan Xichen says, distressed. “If we had known…”

“I said he might die!” Wen Qing says again. “Neither of you responded! I assumed you were fine with it.”

“But we didn’t think he would die!” Lan Xichen’s voice cracks.

“You were looking at him!” Wen Qing exclaims. “He was falling apart! I’m honestly astonished he hadn’t fallen apart already! He was a walking miracle!”

“Lady Wen,” Lan Qiren interrupts. “You are a brilliant doctor, and you were already familiar with Wei Wuxian’s situation. Young Master Wei is the only demonic cultivator and a genius in his own right. Have you considered that what was obvious to both of you simply was not obvious to us?”

Wen Qing presses her lips into a thin line. 

“I don’t understand,” Lan Xichen, for the thirtieth time this day. “You lacked the information to arrive at the proper conclusion, but Young Master Wei…he knew us. How could he believe…?”

“From what I understand,” Wen Qing begins, warily, “all of you have expressed your disdain for demonic cultivation quite vocally. Hanguang-jun in particular has been asking him to submit to a cleansing for a year now.”

Lan Xichen once again looks horrified. “My brother has been trying to court him,” he snaps.

“Your brother was trying to what,” Jiang Cheng says flatly.

“Wei Wuxian certainly had no idea,” Wen Qing says.

They look at Lan Wangji, who looks too distraught to look embarrassed. Wen Qing doesn’t know him well, but she wouldn’t hesitate to say he looks devastated. He starts crying again at Wen Qing’s words, but nobody bothers to point it out.

“But you told him to go through with the ritual!” Wen Qing defends, pointing a needle at Lan Qiren.

“Yes,” the man says, “because it was clear that resentful energy was having a negative impact on his body, and despite…other losses I still believed it to be in his own interests to be rid of it.”

“Then why did you think he was so unwilling to go through with it?” Wen Qing demands.

Lan Qiren frowns. “Demonic cultivation is a great source of power–”

“Power?” Jiang Cheng interrupts incredulously. “When has my brother ever held on to power?”

Lan Qiren closes his mouth with a snap. He stands there bristling while Jiang Cheng fumes and growls, and Lan Wangji’s cheeks grow damp. 

“It seems,” Lan Xichen says, as delicately as possible in this situation, “there have been a few grave misunderstandings.”

The infirmary is dark when Lan Wangji enters.

Wei Wuxian is still lying in bed, though Wen Qing has been rotating his position to maintain blood flow. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps. Lan Wangji is anything but. He carries a soup that was made by the cooks of GusuLan, which he places by Wei Ying’s bedside. Then he sinks to his knees next to the bed, and reaches for one of Wei Ying’s deathly cold hands. 

“Wei Ying,” he begins, then stops before his voice breaks. He squeezes Wei Ying’s hand, gently, and finds that all the words he wants to say are for a Wei Ying who is awake and able to hear him. “Wei Ying,” he says again. He cannot refrain himself from looking Wei Ying up and down, although he knows the bruises on his neck have faded by now. “Please wake up,” he begs. “Please, Wei Ying.”

He could not stomach it if let me go were Wei Ying’s last words to him, spoken while Wei Ying fades on the stones of the discipline pavilion. 

Lan Wangji looks up when he hears the door slide open, but does not let go of Wei Ying’s hand even when Wen Qing glances at their joined hands and raises an eyebrow. He finds he does have something to ask Wen Qing, as she understood Wei Ying the best this past week. 

“I thought he trusted me,” Lan Wangji says to the wall. He looked away when Wen Qing pulled Wei Ying’s robes open in order to change the bandages.

The sound of rustling cloth stops briefly. “He did,” Wen Qing says, before resuming. 

“Not in the way I thought he did,” Lan Wangji says, trying to keep his voice steady and the bitterness out.

“Perhaps he did,” Wen Qing says cautiously. She goes to turn Wei Ying over, and Lan Wangji is forced to let go of his hand. “He cared a great deal about your opinion, Hanguang-jun.”

“Hm.” Lan Wangji does not know how to express how much he wants to believe her and how much he fears that she is wrong. In the end, he says nothing at all until she leaves.

Wen Qing closes the door behind her with her foot, balancing too many medical supplies in her arms. Lan Wangji scoots closer to Wei Ying and takes his hand once more.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begins once more.  “I will not apologize until you wake up.” He tells himself that Wen Qing’s words are true, and continues. “I will court you properly, when you wake up. So please.” His voice finally cracks on the last word, but he must finish. “Wake up, Wei Ying. Please. It cannot end like this. Please.” 

Lan Wangji bends over slightly and presses a kiss to the back of Wei Ying’s hand. This is as far as he dares to go, when he knows he does not deserve to take such liberties. Finally he stands up, and settles back into the demeanor befitting Hanguang-jun. His eyes betray no emotion, and not a hair is out of place. But his heart is beating rabbit-quick in his chest, and his fingers itch to hold Wei Ying once more.

“I will wait,” he vows. “For however long it takes, I will wait for you, Wei Ying.”

The infirmary is light when Jiang Cheng enters. 

Wen Qing is carrying a pitcher of water, and Wen Ning is juggling all of her medical supplies in his arms, trying not to trip and fall. Jiang Cheng is carrying a bowl of lotus and pork rib soup. He went down to Caiyi to find the necessary ingredients and made it himself in the kitchens of the Cloud Recesses. Jiang Cheng places the soup next to Wei Wuxian’s bedside, and imagines that somewhere in Wei Wuxian’s unconscious mind, he’s smelling the soup and perking up.

Jiang Cheng stands silently across from the two Wens, and is unable to help a brief flash of utter loathing–at them, and at himself–for a moment. “He was never going to tell me, was he.”

The two Wens glance at each other, before Wen Ning shakes his head.

“We promised not to tell you,” Wen Ning says timidly. He spreads his sister’s medical supplies out across the table. 

Jiang Cheng tries not to clench his fists. “Right,” he says tightly. He remembers Wei Wuxian saying the same thing two days ago when he told him how relieved he was that Wei Wuxian agreed to the ritual, and hates everything a little more. 

“Wei Wuxian, you fucking idiot,” Jiang Cheng spits. “How could you. Why didn’t you ask. Why–”

He knows why.

“Yanli’s wedding is in three weeks,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly. He doesn’t want to tell her what has happened so close to her wedding day, but there’s no way he can keep it a secret from her. “Fuck, what am I going to tell A-Li? What was he going to tell A-Li?”

“We don’t know,” Wen Qing answers helplessly.

“Of course he didn’t have a plan,” Jiang Cheng says bitterly. “Of course.” He gives in and clenches his fists. “Wei Wuxian. When you wake up, you’re gonna have a lot to answer for. You better wake up,” he adds threateningly. “You better.”

You promised you’d stay by my side forever, Jiang Cheng thinks. Was his brother really planning on breaking that promise? But no, Wei Wuxian has to survive. He always has. Mother used to say that Wei Wuxian was like a cockroach, and Wei Wuxian used to joke that it was because no matter what Yu Ziyuan did to get rid of him, he kept coming back. Jiang Cheng never found it funny, and he sure isn’t laughing now. 

“He must have thought I was fucking stupid, not realizing this whole time,” Jiang Cheng says viciously. 

He can see it in his mind’s eye: Wei Wuxian laughing at him behind his back, poor Jiang Cheng, poor stupid Jiang Cheng, making a fool of himself, pretending he can be sect leader, going up the mountain like the fucking idiot that he is–

“Y-you shouldn’t blame yourself,” Wen Ning says.

“He managed to fool the entire world,” Wen Qing points out reasonably. 

“Yeah?” Jiang Cheng barks out a laugh. “I still should’ve known better.”

He should’ve known better, but he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities and petty jealousies to see the truth in front of him, just like his mother. He couldn’t understand how Wei Wuxian could just give up cultivation, like he hadn’t spent all his life working for his golden core. Like Jiang Cheng hadn’t spent all his life trying to match Wei Wuxian in power. Including the past year, because he finally, finally was just as powerful as Wei Wuxian and he didn’t even know it, and now that he does, how can he possibly appreciate it? Jiang Cheng can’t remember the countless times he’s stood in the shadows over the years, burning with resentment, and wondered, what would I do for his power?

Not this.

Not this.

The infirmary is just starting to get dark when Wen Qing enters. She doesn’t have medical supplies this time, or any bandages to change. She checks over Wei Wuxian’s wounds out of habit, but she has nothing left to do but wait and hope Wei Wuxian pulls through.

So she sits by his bedside and waits.

“Wei Wuxian,” she says eventually. She’s not in the habit of talking to her patients while they’re asleep, but Wei Wuxian was always dying to be the exception to every rule. “Nobody is happy.”

It’s the only way everyone is happy, he’s said, but not a single goddamn person is happy. She thinks of Lan Wangji keeping vigil by his bedside, of Lan Xichen pale and horrified by his brother’s side, of Lan Qiren red-faced and spluttering, and Jiang Cheng, pacing furiously in front of the bed. Jiang Yanli cried when she heard. Not even Jin Zixuan could comfort her. She wasn’t present for the passive-aggressive fight the three Lans had with the Lan elders, but she can tell who won from the way the elders can’t help but glare at her when they see her or Wen Ning pass by.  

“No one is happy,” Wen Qing says again. “Wei Wuxian, you fucking idiot. No one is happy, so just–wake up, Wuxian. Wake up.”

Wei Wuxian remains unmoving in his bed, and Wen Qing stands. His chest rises slightly, the only visual indication that he still lives. His hair is spread out behind him on the pillow, and he is, for once, perfectly still. He looks so peaceful, and Wen Qing can’t help but worry that he’s too peaceful. 

“They’ll miss you, Wuxian,” she says. “I’ll miss you. Your Lan Zhan will cry. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t answer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Wen Qing says finally, and leaves.

The infirmary is dark once more when a pair of silver eyes finally open.

Chapter Text

The infirmary is dark once more when a pair of silver eyes finally open. His first coherent thought is that he’s desperately thirsty, so he fumbles around in the dark until his hand connects with a pitcher of water. Clumsily, he brings it to his face and chugs the entire glass, splashing water on his face unintentionally.

 The movement alerts someone in the room, who hurriedly lights a candle.

“Master Wei? Master Wei? Are you awake?”

It’s the hesitant voice of Wen Ning, who appointed himself as night-watch, since he doesn’t sleep anyway. His gray face looms out of the darkness, illuminated by the soft orange glow of the candle. 

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to say yes, or maybe water, but all that comes out is a croak. He clears his throat painfully and tries again. “What.”

“O-of course, you need water!” Wen Ning bustles around, propping Wei Wuxian up on his pillows and fetching another pitcher of water. 

Wei Wuxian downs the second pitcher just as greedily as the first, but a heavy sensation in his stomach warns him not to drink too much so soon. 

“What,” he tries again, voice still raspy.

“You shouldn’t try to talk, Master Wei,” Wen Ning advises. 

Right on cue, Wei Wuxian’s head swims. He has so many questions on the tip of his tongue, but his tongue isn’t cooperating with him at this moment. How long has it been? Has he missed Yanli’s wedding?

Silver eyes close again.

“Master Wei? Master Wei? Oh dear, they’re going to kill me…”

“Are you sure he woke up?”

Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji, and Wen Qing stand around Wei Wuxian’s hospital bed, staring intently at Wei Wuxian, who is sleeping peacefully in the same position he was yesterday.

“Yes,” Wen Ning says firmly. “He tried to talk, and he drank two pitchers of water.”

Jiang Cheng begins pacing, to no one’s surprise, while Lan Wangji continues staring at Wei Wuxian’s face, as if he could will him awake through sheer power of will.

As if by magic, Wei Wuxian chooses that moment to stir. Jiang Cheng whirls around immediately, but Wei Wuxian isn’t waking up. His brows are furrowed, but his eyes aren’t opening. Gone is the peaceful look that marked his week-long rest. Now his limbs begin to stir, but there’s nothing comforting about it. Then his arms begin to thrash, and Wen Qing’s eyes widen in alarm. Wei Wuxian seems to be caught in the throes of a nightmare, fending off invisible enemies. But the only person within reach is Wei Wuxian himself.

“Stop him!” Wen Qing barks out.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji immediately rush to his side, each grabbing an arm. Wen Qing and Wen Ning move to the foot of the bed when Wei Wuxian begins to kick. The blankets are jerked to the side before they manage to pin his legs down.

“What is happening?” Jiang Cheng demands, voice tense.

“Nightmare,” Wen Qing answers shortly. That’s her best guess, at least. It should be a good sign. Wei Wuxian is finally moving on from his deep, undisturbed sleep, and entering a dream somewhere in his subconscious. Returning to the nightmares they all pretended not to hear during his week with the Wens. Returning to reality. 

“Nnnn…” Wei Wuxian slurs, not quite opening his mouth. His eyes are still firmly shut, but his mind is seeing something they can only imagine.

“Hold his other leg,” Wen Qing tells her brother, and rises from her position on the floor to rummage around her supplies.

Wei Wuxian’s lips crack open as Wen Ning grasps his other ankle with his other hand. “Nnn no,” he manages. His voice is rough from disuse. He yanks his arm from Jiang Cheng’s grip, and elbows his brother in the face. “Ah!” The sound escapes his lips as his sudden arm movement pulls the bandages on his chest.

“Wei Wuxian, you idiot,” Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng can’t help saying, even though Wei Wuxian is clearly fast asleep. They exchange a surprised look, but he grabs Wei Wuxian’ arm again without pause. She returns to the bed with silk cloth that she twists into a makeshift rope. 

“No,”  Wei Wuxian cries again, weakly, and Wen Qing wants to yell at him to shut up. Can’t he see the faces Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji are making? “L’t…me go,” he says, an echo of his final words before collapsing. 

Wen Qing can’t quite tell if he’s demanding or begging, but Lan Wangji lets go of his arm all the same, as if burned. Jiang Cheng’s face goes through a grimace with about five extra layers added on, and Lan Wangji’s face is frozen in an open expression of… something. Wen Qing would say either terror or horror, but either way, hearing Wei Wuxian’s last words again can’t be good for either of them.

As soon as Wei Wuxian’s arm is free it flails wildly through the air, before it flies to his own face.

“Don’t let go,” Wen Qing snaps out.

Lan Wangji hurriedly reaches for Wei Wuxian’s forearm again, but Wei Wuxian’s nails are already raking down his own cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. Wen Qing hurries to the head of the bed, and wraps the first length of silk cloth around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. 

“Let me go let mego letmego,” Wei Wuxian repeats over and over, still struggling against them even as it hurts himself. It’s somewhere between pitiful and worrying. Perhaps both. Lan Wangji looks more and more strained everytime Wei Ying pleads with him to let him go, but he keeps his grip steady as Wen Qing ties a quick but sturdy knot and then loops the other end of the silk cloth around the bed frame.

A minute later, Wen Qing finishes tying the last knot, and all four of them lean back and try to relax. It doesn’t work, of course. They may not be panting, but they’re still incredibly tense. All of them exchange a stricken look as Wei Wuxian’s half-mumbled words die down into whimpers, even as he continues thrashing against his new restraints.

It’s a far cry from the untouchable Yiling Patriarch that he’s supposed to be. But Wei Wuxian only gained power for every time he was beaten. And he never claimed to be all-powerful.

“He’s waking up,” Wen Qing offers uselessly. 

It should be a good sign. It really should be. But all this tells them, or rather reminds them, is that Wei Wuxian waking up is only the beginning of the battle. 

The infirmary is light when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes again. 

There’s a smell wafting towards his nose, triggering an instinctive response in his subconscious brain that has his eyelids cracking open. He breathes in deeply, ignoring the aching pain from the two stab wounds and more healing on his chest. Ah, there it is: the familiar, heart-warming scent of lotus and pork rib soup.

The door opens, and sunlight streams into the infirmary room. There’s a small table next to Wei Wuxian’s bed that’s currently holding a pitcher of water and the bowl of soup. A shelf on the other side of the room is stuffed full of medical supplies. Wei Wuxian recognizes a roll of bandages sitting on the second shelf as the same bandages currently wrapped around his torso. 

There’s a loud crash as the figure standing in the doorway drops the tray they were carrying. “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan looks too bright for Wei Wuxian’s poor eyes.

Wei Wuxian struggles to sit up, ignoring the pull on his bandages, which is when he notices the silk ropes binding him to the bed. He resists the urge to pull, knowing that won’t help, while his brain immediately runs through the worst-case scenarios. But by the time he looks up, Lan Zhan is already by his side, fingers tugging apart the knots around the bed frame.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again, almost desperately.

Wei Wuxian struggles to sit up again, and Lan Zhan hovers around him anxiously, propping his pillows upright while Wei Wuxian flexes his wrists and tries to breathe through the pains and compression of his chest. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian croaks, while he reaches for the pitcher of water. “What are you doing here?” 

He’s clearly in a Gusu infirmary; the sparse aesthetics of the room tell him so. And he recognizes Wen Qing’s medical equipment on the shelves, so she must be taking care of him. This much, he expected. But he didn’t really expect Lan Zhan to be visiting his hospital room. Lan Zhan seemed like one of those people who sees no point in visiting patients while they’re unconscious. 

Lan Zhan can’t seem to find the words to answer him. He stares at Wei Wuxian with big, tragic eyes, his hands trembling as he offers Wei Wuxian the lotus and pork rib soup. “Wei Ying,” he says, yet again. “I am sorry.”

Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of inhaling the soup. “Huh?” He says intelligently. 

“I am so sorry,” Lan Zhan repeats, and his eyes plead with Wei Wuxian to understand even though Wei Wuxian very much doesn’t, and he has no idea what Lan Zhan’s face is doing.

“Sorry for what?” Wei Wuxian asks blankly. 

He hadn’t planned on thinking so soon, but he casts his mind back anyway, searching for his last memory. Dimly, he recalls Wen Ning lighting a candle and offering him water. Before that, the last thing he remembers is the ritual itself. He recalls three minutes of what felt like a torture and a release, followed by him sliding to the ground as a thousand pains blossomed on his body, waiting for darkness to take him. But Lan Zhan wouldn’t let him, he remembers that. Lan Zhan pulled him upright, threatening to crush him in his fragile state. Blurrily, Wei Wuxian remembers telling Lan Zhan to put him down, before peace came and the darkness finally claimed him. 

But Wei Wuxian is awake again. His eyes gradually adjust to the bright light, and Wei Wuxian almost regrets being let go by the darkness. He wouldn’t mind the peace so much.

Is this what Lan Zhan is apologizing for, then? Hindering Wen Qing’s medical efforts?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, strained. “You nearly died. I almost.” He doesn’t continue, but Wei Wuxian thinks he knows where that sentence was going.

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian agrees. He’s a little confused, but mostly content to continue stuffing his face with this wonderful soup.

But Lan Zhan’s face twists, as if he’s the one in pain. “How could you think I would willingly do so?”

His tone indicates that there’s a right and wrong answer to that question, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what that “right” answer is. His experiences in the lectures has taught him that he most often has a correct answer that others simply do not wish to hear.

“You did,” Wei Wuxian points out, now thoroughly confused. Sure, he asked Lan Zhan to do it as part of his two conditions, but Lan Zhan could’ve said no. Wei Wuxian didn’t need it to be him, he just preferred it that way.

Lan Zhan looks deeply dissatisfied with this answer. “Not willingly,” he insists. “I did not know.”

There’s no easy way to say Wei Ying, you almost died in my arms, and I will never forget it for as long as I live, so Lan Wangji stops there.

Didn’t know what? Wei Wuxian thinks crabbily, but he’s way too tired to muster up the energy to be mad. “I forgive you for not knowing, Lan Zhan,” he begins, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“No,” Lan Zhan snaps. The word bursts out of him, and Lan Zhan presses his lips into a thin line, looking furious. 

And really. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what he’s done now to make Lan Zhan angry with him. All the same, he doesn’t like Lan Zhan looking at him like this, so his mind scrambles, trying to think of what Lan Zhan could possibly be mad at him about. 

Ah. “My golden core was really none of your business,” Wei Wuxian begins again. He’d be angry on a normal day, but he can barely spare the strength to talk. “And I have to insist that you don’t tell Jiang Cheng–”

“Jiang Wanyin knows,” Lan Zhan interrupts. He still looks upset. “What was your plan, Wei Ying?”

His plan? Wei Wuxian stares blankly at him again. 

“You promised to attend Lady Jiang’s wedding,” Lan Zhan reminds him, and does everybody know about that now? “You were supposed to train the Jiang junior disciples. Did you intend to abandon your responsibilities?”

“Well, not abandon so much as I was forced to,” Wei Wuxian says crossly. “You Lans are the ones who said there was no other way you would take in the DafanWen. What does it matter to you w–”

“What does it matter?”

Oh no, now Lan Zhan looks livid. His golden eyes are narrowed slits. 

“I didn’t mean,” Wei Wuxian splutters, unsure of where he went wrong, “it’s just–uh–”

“Lan Wangji,” a voice says archly from the entrance. “I thought you were going to apologize.”

Wen Qing strides in. Her needles disappear in a flourish up her sleeves, and she throws a look at Lan Zhan while she steps over the mess he left from the tray he dropped. 

Wei Wuxian holds up his wrists, still with silk pulled tight around them, and raises an eyebrow.

“You were thrashing in your sleep,” Wen Qing says by way of explanation. 

Wei Wuxian suspects he might’ve done something a little more dangerous than thrashing, but he doesn’t ask. He pulls apart the ties and turns to Lan Zhan, whose furious face has faded to a look of contrition. 

“I meant to apologize,” Lan Zhan says. “Wei Ying. I am sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Wei Wuxian says promptly. He discards the pieces of silk on the blanket and picks up his bowl of soup again. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan cries.

“Do you even know what he’s apologizing for?” Wen Qing asks, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be so rash, Wei Wuxian.”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t forgive him,” Wei Wuxian says honestly.

“Because he’s more of an idiot than you are,” a familiar growly voice says from the entrance. Jiang Cheng steps over the spilled soup on the floor, his words belied by how relieved he looks. “Which takes an enormous amount of effort. Wei Wuxian. You idiot.”

Jiang Cheng marches up to Wei Wuxian’s bedside, and Wei Wuxian swallows a mouthful of soup nervously. Jiang Cheng knows. He looks down at the Yunmeng soup and up at Jiang Cheng. “Thanks for the soup, Jiang Cheng,” he offers hopefully. Jiang Cheng knows.

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says shortly. His demeanor gives no ground. “Were you.” He reels himself in for a moment, then gives up. “WERE YOU EVER GOING TO TELL ME, YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Quiet,” Wen Qing snaps. “This is an infirmary.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian admits.

“ASSHOLE!” Jiang Cheng shouts again, his fists clenched. With Zidian on his finger, he literally sparkles with anger. Wei Wuxian thinks it’s adorable. 

“If you don’t stop shouting, I’m going to kick you out,” Wen Qing warns. 

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath and turns to Wen Qing, looking ready to start shouting at her. Wen Qing raises an eyebrow, and he thinks better of it.

“I’m going to sic A-Li on you,” Jiang Cheng warns, and Wei Wuxian winces. “Her wedding’s in a week and she keeps on crying. You asshole.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian manages, eyes weepy. “I love you too, little brother.”

“Yeah, I FUCKING NOTICED!” Jiang Cheng makes an aborted motion, like he thought he could actually throw Wei Wuxian’s golden core back at him. “If you ever try something similar again, I’ll–I’ll disown you!”

“So if I try to risk my life for you again, you’ll kick me out of the sect?” Wei Wuxian checks, unable to stop himself from sounding amused.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says firmly. He points a finger at Wei Wuxian threateningly. “So–don’t even think about it!”

“Got it,” Wei Wuxian manages. He sets the now empty bowl of soup back on the small table and leans forward to start untying the restraints around his ankles. 

Lan Zhan intervenes when he moves to stand up. “It is not safe.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t refrain from rolling his eyes. Lan Zhan seems to think all of his life choices aren’t safe, although to be fair, most of them aren’t. “If I stay any longer in this bed I’m going to go crazy. I’m not dying, am I, Wen Qing?”

Lan Zhan glances back at Wen Qing, who scowls at both of them. “No. Wei Wuxian does need to start moving,” she says. “But. Slowly. Absolutely nothing strenuous.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, carefully bringing his legs over the side of the bed. He stands on trembling legs, and Lan Zhan is immediately there, holding him steady. “I don’t need help walking, Lan Zhan,” he says, exasperated. Honestly. It’s like Lan Zhan thinks he can’t do anything by himself. He pulls away, missing Lan Zhan’s stricken expression.

“Lan Wangji,” Wen Qing says, before the idiot can overthink it too much. “Would you mind accompanying Wei Wuxian on his walk?”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian protests. “No need to make it sound like I’m going to trip and fall on my face.”

“You will,” Jiang Cheng says helpfully.

“Hey!”

“Doctor’s orders,” Wen Qing intervenes again, before Wei Wuxian can glare at Lan Wangji and scare him away.  

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian grumbles, and allows Lan Wangji to walk him out the door and then presumably wherever he wishes to go in the Cloud Recesses.

“This is going to go terribly,” Jiang Cheng predicts, mere seconds after they’re gone.

“You were the one who demanded he court your brother properly,” Wen Qing reminds him.

Jiang Cheng scowls. “How was I supposed to realize that Hanguang-jun was that bad at it. I thought the Lans were big into romance. They have a bunch of rules on how to properly court someone, he should’ve gone to me, I’m his sect leader and his broth–”

“I know,” Wen Qing interrupts tiredly. She’s already heard this spiel many, many times. “I know.”

Wei Wuxian bursts back into the healer’s room only a few minutes later. He’s panting, stumbling, and looks dead on his feet, but also very much panicked. 

Jiang Cheng jumps to his feet and manhandles him until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Wen Qing is ready with a cool compress. 

“I told you not to run,” Wen Qing snaps.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian gasps out. “But it was urgent. I had to ditch my chaperone.”

Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing share a glance behind Wei Wuxian’s back, neither willing to explain to Wei Wuxian that they’ve been trying to set him up on a date.

“Why?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“I’m definitely dying,” Wei Wuxian asserts. “Wen Qing, you were wrong, I’ve got to be dying.”

Jiang Cheng resists the urge to scream out loud. He stands up and brings Wei Wuxian the pitcher of water waiting by his bed. “Why?”

“Lan Zhan is being too nice to me!” Wei Wuxian cries, after he’s chugged the entire pitcher. He winces slightly as his chest expands and contracts rapidly, stretching the bandages Wen Qing has so painstakingly wrapped him in. “I’ve broken, like, twenty rules and he just keeps looking at me, like I’m on my deathbed! That’s the only explanation!”

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan appears in the doorway, looking terribly worried. He has a hand on either side of the entrance, as if that’s the only way to stop himself from scooping Wei Wuxian up in his arms. “It is not safe to run–”

Wei Wuxian hides behind Jiang Cheng, who flails indignantly. “See?!” His voice edges on shrill.

“Wei Wuxian, stop hiding behind your brother. Lan Wangji, you said you would tell him.”

Lan Wangji’s ears flush. 

“Tell me what?” Wei Wuxian demands faintly. “I am dying, aren’t I? That’s it, isn’t it? Wen Qing, you should’ve just told me–”

“He’s trying to court you, idiot!” Jiang Cheng barks. He looks like he wants to shove Wei Wuxian away, but still holds some courtesy for his injured brother. 

“Court me?” Wei Wuxian pauses, and all three of them can almost see his brain conjuring up the worst explanations. “But how does that work if I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying!” Jiang Cheng explodes. He removes himself from his position as Wei Wuxian’s meat shield and stands to the side, glaring at both of them. “You better not be!”

“But I joked about shaving off Lan Qiren’s beard and he didn’t even tell me off!” Wei Wuxian insists. 

The he in question looks like he’s one emotion away from shutting down. Wen Qing doesn’t think he’s ever experienced more than two emotions at a time, and right now he looks worried, confused, embarrassed, amused, horrified, mortified, and also head over heels in love with Wei Wuxian.

“He would deserve it,” Jiang Cheng retorts.

Wei Wuxian gapes. “How?”

“He told you to get fucked!”

“He did not,” Wei Wuxian protests, baffled. “Who told you that?”

“Lan Qiren!” Jiang Cheng says.

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian manages. “I’m going insane.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “Not those words exactly, idiot,” he says. “But I know that’s how your stupid little peabrain interpreted it.”

“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian admits. “But! If I’m dying–”

“For the last time, you’re not dying,” Wen Qing interrupts crossly. “Lan Wangji is trying to court you because he wants to marry you.”

Now Lan Zhan looks a bit like he’s dying himself.

“Apparently,” Jiang Cheng says, sounding put on, “he’s been in love with you for at least a year.”

“Married?!” Wei Wuxian squeaks. “To Lan Zhan?!” His cheeks are pink, and his silver eyes widen with the air of a man who has just had a world-changing epiphany. “Oh. Oh. Wait. Wait!” He turns to Lan Zhan, who is swaying in the doorframe. His smile could melt glaciers. “Lan Zhan! I love you too!”

Lan Zhan faints.

Wen Qing is the one to walk Wei Wuxian to Lan Qiren’s private study the next day, mostly because it’s either her or Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng is even more incapable of being gentle than her.

The study is deep within the center of the Cloud Recesses, and almost every Lan elder they pass takes the time to glare at Wen Qing. She ignores them, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t hesitate to give all of them his best sneer, one that wouldn’t look out of place on Madame Yu. 

Wei Wuxian is walking far better today, but still, no one trusts him to walk by himself, not after yesterday’s excursion. They’ve just finished lunch, which was plain rice for Wei Wuxian, since Wen Qing has banned him from anything but the simplest of foods until he recovers. Wei Wuxian made one crack about all Lans being on medical restrictions, but complied a little suspiciously easily.   

Jiang Cheng slides open the door to the study, and then closes it behind them. The midday sun filters in from the windows, casting a patterned yellow light on the floor. Inside, the three Lans sit around a low table. They have a steaming pot of tea prepared, seemingly unaware that nobody but the Lans like Gusu teas. It takes them a minute to go through the proper greetings and to get settled around the table. 

Wei Wuxian can’t sit properly, as his legs were dislocated just a week ago, and Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing have to shift to accommodate him. He sprawls awkwardly on his mat while they fold their legs underneath them and reach for their teas.

“I owe you an apology, Young Master Wei,” Lan Xichen begins. He sits in the middle, with his uncle and brother on either side, one of which is studiously avoiding Wei Wuxian’s gaze while the other stares intently without blinking. “I let my assumptions get the better of me. We did not realize that dying was a possibility.”

Wen Qing’s lips thin in displeasure. “I said, ‘What if he–’”

“The question indicated speculation–” Lan Xichen cries.

“Can we not argue about this again?” Jiang Cheng interrupts. They’ve had every possible argument about ten times in the past week while they were waiting for Wei Wuxian to wake up.

“Indeed,” Lan Xichen says, inclining his head. “I digress. I am sorry, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian looks uncomfortable. “There’s no need,” he protests weakly. 

But Lan Xichen still looks distressed. “You thought we would knowingly kill you,” he says. It’s something he’s said many times in the past week, but never to Wei Wuxian directly.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian hedges, but there’s really no putting it nicely. “I’ve been corrected?”

Lan Qiren clears his throat, an unfortunate echo of the last time he tried to express emotions in Wei Wuxian’s direction. “I confess I misjudged your character,” he says stiffly. 

Wei Wuxian eyes him. Therefore the ritual will proceed echoes in his head. He’s not sure how Lan Qiren plans on explaining that, but all the Lans seem insistent that they had no idea that the purification ritual had a more than 50% chance of leading to Wei Wuxian’s death. 

“I thought the ritual would be beneficial for your health,” Lan Qiren continues. 

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Considering I survived,” he says, ignoring the way everyone winces, “I guess it was.”

“You still demanded it before you were worried about his health,” Jiang Cheng points out bluntly. 

The whole purification ritual would’ve never happened if the Lan elders hadn’t jumped on the chance to rid the world of the Yiling Patriarch. One could argue that the Lans were bound by their own rules to protect the DafanWen, but that didn’t stop them from putting stipulations on their generosity.

“You don’t seriously think that they would’ve cared, do you?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Killing is forbidden in th–” 

“Yeah, we know,” Jiang Cheng snaps, interrupting Lan Xichen. 

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says at the same time. “I figured you were making an exception.”

“We do not break the rules for one person,” Lan Qiren snaps.

“No,” Wen Qing says archly. “Only when it suits you.”

The six sit around the table and fume. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan speaks up finally. He has not looked away from Wei Wuxian once during this entire conversation. He stares intently, but he looks remorseful. “We are sorry.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I know, Lan Zhan.” He offers all three of them a sun-bright smile. It’s belied by the fact that his legs are sprawled crookedly in front of him, as they would start to shake if he tried to sit on them. “I know.”

By the time a week has rolled around, Wei Wuxian is walking almost entirely without pain. Lan Zhan still insists on “chaperoning” him everywhere, and Wei Wuxian certainly is not complaining. He sits next to Wei Wuxian in the enormous banquet table of the Jins. Vermillion Hall is almost too bright to look at, decked out as it is with enough gold to feed ten villages for a year, and a feast that could do the same. Wei Wuxian will say what he wants about the Jins’ decadent lifestyle, but he doesn’t mind his sister getting treated to this level of luxury on her wedding day.

Lan Zhan has assigned himself the role of Wei Wuxian’s personal nurse, which means he’s watching every dish that gets placed in front of Wei Wuxian with a critical eye, and keeping any and all alcohol out of his reach. Wei Wuxian still rolls his eyes when he notices Lan Zhan doing this, but doesn’t protest. Wen Qing made it very clear that he was banned from drinking alcohol for the foreseeable future. 

On the first day of feasting, they each sat with their respective sects. Wei Wuxian sat next to Jiang Cheng, ignoring the glares that Jins threw in his direction. Jiang Cheng didn’t hesitate to glare back, though they did fade away once Jiang Yanli made it clear that Wei Wuxian was her little brother, and Jin Zixuan made it very, very clear that he supported her. 

On the second day of feasting, they sit with their respective families. Wei Wuxian still sits next to Jiang Cheng, but now Lan Zhan also sits next to Wei Wuxian, his betrothed. Lan Qiren argued against them announcing their betrothal so close to Jiang Yanli’s wedding, claiming it was bad taste. But Wen Qing pointed out that his nephew was either going to be accused of bad taste or promiscuity, and really there was a clear lesser evil of the two.

Lan Xichen sits next to his two sworn brothers, but glances over at his little brother occasionally, watching Wangji interact with his fiancé with a pleased smile. Jin Guangyao of course congratulated them, while inwardly panicking over the newfound influence of the Jiangs–his father didn’t seem to realize that it was Jiang Yanli who influenced Jin Zixuan and not the other way around–and how he could possibly orchestrate Wei Wuxian’s downfall now. The Lans were tightlipped on a regular day, and they were positively mute when it came to the matter of the purification ritual, saying only that Wei Wuxian had their support. Lan Xichen was a terrible liar and would never try to lie to Jin Guangyao, but he insisted that what happened was private and any secrets that may have gotten revealed were not Xichen’s to disclose. 

“Wen Qing says there’s a good chance I can cultivate a new one,” Wei Wuxian is saying, cheeks stuffed with rice. He’s had a ravenous appetite ever since he woke up, and not a wide enough variety of food to satisfy him. “Well, she says that this is all theoretical given that it’s never happened before, but she’s hopeful.” Wei Wuxian swallows, an afterthought to his mostly one-sided conversation with Lan Zhan. “Personally, I think between the two of us there’s no way we won’t succeed,” he concludes cheerfully. “And you’ll help, won’t you, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. He doesn’t speak during meals, but he also can’t not respond to Wei Wuxian. He pushes another bowl of rice closer to Wei Wuxian, and begins scanning the table for another bowl of turnip and pork soup.

“Stop plying him with food,” Jiang Cheng says grumpily from Wei Wuxian’s other side. 

Lan Zhan glares at him and deliberately places his soup in front of Wei Wuxian, who lights up in delight. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian gifts Lan Zhan with one of his special smiles. “You spoil me too much!”

“I have a lot to make up for,” Lan Zhan says seriously.

Wei Wuxian turns red. “I’ve already said–”

“Is he still trying to apologize?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian sighs.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng says, a tad smugly. “Let him.”

Wei Wuxian sighs again and leans back in his seat. He looks to his right and left, and then further down the table, where Jiang Yanli sits next to Jin Zixuan, who can’t seem to look away from her.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “This all worked out for the best, don’t you think?”

His hand snakes out, reaching for a glass, and Lan Zhan places a hand over his before he can reach it, reminding him with a look Wen Qing’s ban on alcohol. “Yes,” he agrees. 

Frankly, Wei Wuxian could tell him the sky was pink and Lan Zhan would agree. But the way Wei Wuxian lights up with a smile, bright enough to drown the sun, is worth it.