Chapter Text
“No.”
“Wangji. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“No.”
Xichen sighed, letting his eyes close, letting his mind calm, allowing a patient but firm smile to grace his face.
Lan Xichen had left seclusion only a short few weeks ago. It had become more and more difficult to resist the awareness of the responsibilities he had abandoned, had piled onto his uncle, his brother, maybe even the younger disciples. But even as this understanding crushed him, it had taken still another month for him to finally work up the courage to stand up, to walk out, to announce that he had returned.
Now he just needed to convince his most stubborn family member to let him take those responsibilities back.
“Wangji. You’re busy. You’ve taken on so much,” he looked his brother straight in the eye, “Let me do this for you.” He saw something flicker in his younger brother’s eyes at these words. The smallest motion, but a flinch all the same.
“I’m going with you.”
“Wangji…” but Xichen knew he’d already lost this battle.
A part of him approved of his brother’s resolve. His little brother seemed to intuitively understand that sometimes, whether someone should be trusted should be questioned.
And was Xichen really in a place to criticize such a perspective?
“Fine,” Xichen finally relented, smiling softly at his brother’s unwavering expression, “Perhaps it would be nice to have a companion in this task after all,” he looked into his brother’s eyes, “But only if you truly think you can be spared without too much trouble later?”
His brother smiled almost imperceptibly, and nodded.
--
It was to be Lan Xichen’s first night hunt in… longer than he cared to remember. Even before his seclusion, there had been his sect leader duties, various diplomatic missions, his own personal studies and training there to draw him away from working in the field. After the fallout from the Sunshot Campaign, he had never minded the quiet. But he had to admit, a part of him had missed this.
It had been too long since the Twin Jades had set off on a journey together, just the two of them. Though they walked in silence, a part of him, deep within, smiled.
And another part resented that he dared to enjoy this.
There had been a call for help near Gusu’s western border. Details had been shaky, but the distress real. The pain evident in the letters sent to the Chief Cultivator by those who had lost loved ones. Sent to his brother.
The notion of Wangji as the Chief Cultivator still felt odd to Xichen. It wasn’t that Xichen thought his brother wasn’t suitable for the role – no matter how distinguished and respected the name Hanguang-jun, Zewu-jun had always managed to think even more highly of him than the cultivation world at large – instead, he was surprised that his brother had accepted it. He knew when his brother was happiest: with his guqin, with Wei Wuxian, or, at one time at least, on the road with his brother.
But tedious politicking? Mediating disputes?
His brother could be good at it, if he wanted to be. But did he want to be? Or had the Cloud Recesses been left so damaged, so vulnerable without its sect leader, that Wangji had had to commit himself to something he had never wanted to do? Had every moment Xichen spent wallowing in seclusion, every moment piecing himself together after he had let himself shatter, been a moment tearing his brother apart?
“We are here.” Wangji said, and Lan Xichen shook himself out of his reverie. Centering himself and seeking to take in and enjoy his surroundings.
It was town that could easily be confused for any other in this part of Gusu. Pockets of shopkeepers selling their wares. An inn with only a small handful of rooms. Little houses lining the streets, which mirrored the river’s path.
“Shall we… go to the inn?”
Lan Xichen blinked away memories of other towns, other times, like this, and nodded, following his brother to check in to their rooms. He didn’t fail to notice, but still chose to ignore, Wangji’s long, hard stare. He was concerned. Xichen knew his long silences on their way here hadn’t helped. It was jarring, even to Xichen, flipping their dynamic such that Wangji could now be said to be the more talkative of the two, But perhaps it was simply a result of the choices each brother had made: Lan Wangji had become more connected, more grounded, to the world around him, even as it seemed Xichen was liable to simply drift away at any moment, back to the quiet that had comforted him in seclusion.
Xichen only hoped that through this mission he could assuage these concerns, convince his brother that he could focus on other, more important things.
They arrived at the inn, and Wangji booked their two rooms as Xichen stood by his side, thoughts far away, but ensuring that a part of him maintained a polite smile.
It wasn’t fair, Xichen thought as he allowed himself to rest, to sit on the bed, to close his eyes. Wangji asked for so little, but did so much. Of course Xichen should have seen it coming. Should have known that by offering to take on this call for help, he was effectively asking his brother to join him, to add one more thing to the long list of responsibilities he carried. Xichen sighed, wondering what tasks his brother kept hidden from him, which concerns he kept secret, in order to protect the older brother who should instead be the one protecting him.
A knock at the door. Xichen flinched and immediately admonished himself for wasting time ruminating so darkly when he and his brother had agreed to freshen up quickly, and meet up to begin their investigation. The quiet was comfortable, familiar, easy to fall into. But comfort and familiarity were not what he should be permitting for himself right now. He had taken too much already.
They had work to do. He had to do this – so that Wangji could trust him again, so that Wangji didn’t feel obliged to tag along, could continue his own work without worrying that his brother might be struggling elsewhere.
A knock again, a questioning, “Xiongzhang?”
And Lan Xichen stood himself up, breathing deeply, pulling his mouth into a smile, and was halfway to the door when his brother slid it open.
“I’m coming, Wangji,” Xichen said, not missing the brief look of panic Wangji had carried when he’d slid the door open.
Xichen chastised himself – be on time – he reminded himself. How could he consider himself reliable if Wangji couldn’t even be sure he’d follow the most basic etiquette?
--
They had spent the afternoon making inquiries in town, and Xichen was just… tired. He didn’t think he could handle hearing another story of grief, of hope mixed with fear. Whatever was taking these people seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in preying on those who were already down. A farmer who had shared an area of land with a friend, who’d disappeared not long after a devastating fire. A man who had vanished shortly after his sister’s marriage to his best friend had fallen apart. A couple who had only just lost a child when one of them had been taken.
Xichen watched as Wangji bowed to the shopkeeper and made his way back to his brother.
“Anything helpful?” Xichen smiled wanly, already knowing the most likely answer.
Wangji, predictably, shook his head, “More of the same. Disappearances. Travelers last seen taking the north path out of town, not rejoining their companions later,” Wangji paused, “But the shopkeeper also said he thought only one was ever taken, even if a pair went out.”
Xichen nodded, adding, “So it would seem our culprit has a type. People it can lure out, maybe it is looking something specific in the victims?”
Wangji hummed in agreement.
Xichen let out a breath, turning towards his brother, “Should we try the path to the woods themselves tomorrow? See what clues may be there? It will be dark soon, and we should eat.”
His brother nodded and two walked back, side by side, not quite in the lock step they had once fallen into so naturally.
--
Lying in bed that night, staring at a strange ceiling, a long overdue change of scene, Xichen found the familiar thoughts returning to him. The desperation, the anger in da-ge’s face that he had so readily dismissed the last time he had seen him. The pain, the shock of a-Yao when Xichen had finally dared open his eyes to see what he had done. The steely, determined look in his brother’s eyes as he let himself be beaten half to death, as Xichen let it happen right before his eyes.
He had seen, but not understood. Understood, but not quite seen. Both seen and understood, but even then, refused to act.
It was no wonder Lan Wangji, burdened with Chief Cultivator duties as he was, still did not want Xichen to travel alone. To be asked to make observations, assessments, decisions.
Xichen sighed, closing his eyes and trying to coax sleep forward, urge it to take over for now. Lan Xichen had learned the hard way how years of overwork, of insufficient support, could chip away at someone. Could turn someone you thought you knew into someone unrecognizable. He knew his brother to be strong, capable, willing to do whatever was necessary, but he couldn’t let his brother’s appearance of being held together dissuade him. Could not let himself ignore the burdens of being a younger brother. A Chief Cultivator.
Not again.
He needed Wangji to know he could tell his brother anything, ask him for help whenever it was needed. If he wouldn’t, how could Xichen prevent Wangji from breaking, like so many Xichen had supposedly loved but ultimately let down before him?