Chapter Text
It was well past yi hour when Lan Wangji heard a knock at the door of the Jingshi . Without looking up, he allows the disciple entrance. One of the female junior disciples, Lan Yu, sneaks inside.
Lan Wangji expectantly looks up at her. Whatever message she carries must be important enough for her to break free of the night shift protocol.
She gives him a low bow. “Hanguang-jun, an emissary from the Yao Sect has arrived with a message from the Sect Leader. Sect Leader Ouyang and Sect Leader Yao will arrive in the morning.”
Lan Wangji inwardly sighs. The headache that has been building in his forehead the past few weeks gives an unusually painful pang. Lan Yu does not notice anything amiss on his face, of course.
He gives her a curt nod. “Thank you, Lan Yu. You may leave.”
Lan Yu gives him a polite bow and turns to leave. The door quietly shuts behind her.
Lan Wangji is about to turn back to his paperwork however he finds himself unable to focus on the characters written on it.
In the time he has been Chief Cultivator, both Sect Leader Ouyang and Sect Leader Yao had visited him in the Cloud Recess a total of forty-seven times, claiming their need for Hanguang-jun’s immediate attention. Every visit had been about everything between heaven and earth, however their complaints have never actually required his immediate attention. He finds it is… frustrating, to say the least.
Exhaustion plays at the edge of his vision by the time he decides to head off to bed.
He shrugs out of the first four layers, leaving the inner robe on. He pulls out the pins from his half-moon shaped guan and unites his headband before he goes to wash.
He is practically asleep already by the time his head hits the pillow.
He wakes in the middle of the night after a night terror.
It has been quite a while since he had this particular night terror: not since Wei Ying's return, Lan Wangji recalls. Sweat beads on his forehead and beneath his armpits as he remembers the heart shattering smile on Wei Ying’s face as he falls from the cliffs of Nightless City.
He falls behind his closed eyelids, and Lan Wangji is left with a hollowing feeling in his chest of knowing he was not able to save Wei Ying.
Lan Wangji's heart is beating out of his chest at this point. He furiously swipes at the tears rushing down his cheeks. He almost feels like he's eighteen again— zhiji lost and hated by the cultivation world, a small and feverish boy in his arms as he flies from the Burial Mounds with an aching and bleeding back and a shattered heart.
He thought he had moved on—made some kind of process that does not leave him with night terrors of the past, watching Wei Ying take a step backwards and fall —however he has now been proven to be very much wrong.
Lan Wangji’s breath hiccups in his chest. He needs Wei Ying. Lan Wangji needs him— loves him with every fiber of his being. At least he needs something of Wei Ying's.
A thought occurs to him and then he's on the floor, ripping away the loose floorboard where he keeps his collections of Emperor's Smile and the Qiankun pouch with everything Wei Ying has ever gifted him. He reaches into the pouch and pulls out one of the many vermillion ribbons Wei Ying usually wraps around his letters.
Lan Wangji closes and returns the Qiankun pouch to its earlier spot before he fixes the loose floorboard and falls back on his bed.
He threads his fingers through the ribbon and brings it to his face. It still smells faintly of Wei Ying—like embers of a campfire, pine and something musky (Lan Wangji would guess sweat or alcohol).
He carefully presses his lips to the silky ribbon. He misses Wei Ying so much his heart aches.
Needless to say, he does not fall asleep for a while after that.
Lan Wangji is tired and quite irritable when he sits down behind his desk in his office the next morning.
He had debated with himself whether or not he should sleep through the day when he woke at wu hour. The headache had mercifully gone after breakfast and so he decided against the idea.
The headache had unfortunately returned once he walked through the doors to his office.
Sect Leader Ouyang and Sect Leader Yao (unsurprisingly) squabble about whatever they think is so important to use up all of the Chief Cultivator’s precious time.
Lan Wangji knows he should listen to their complaints—one is not to disrespect their elders, after all—however he cannot concentrate on something other than the headache now pounding in his ears.
His fingers stray from where they are resting in his lap to where he tied Wei Ying's ribbon around his wrist before he headed from the Jingshi. The comforting feeling of the silk beneath his fingers calms the ache in his head enough for him to catch the last snippets of Sect Leader Yao’s sentence.
“And I heard from the Leling Sect Leader that Wei Wuxian passed through Leling not too long ago with another fierce corpse! As if the Ghost General isn't enough! How disappointing.”
Cold fury chills Lan Wangji's blood before his heart revives it with a particularly painful tug. Blood floods furiously through his veins.
It is nothing new. The Sect Leaders constantly complain about Wei Ying, even if it is hidden behind pretty words.
Lan Wangji normally tolerates their behavior towards his zhiji, yet something within him cannot put up with their disrespectful remarks today.
His fists clench until he can feel his nails biting into the skin of his now sweaty palms, clearing the racing thoughts in his mind.
Wei Ying has never deserved such treatment and especially not behind his back.
Lan Wangji tells Sect Leader Yao as much. He is met with poorly concealed anger from both of the Sect Leaders, to which he coldly explains that speaking behind someone's back is against the rules of the Cloud Recess before he rises, abruptly ending the Sect Leaders’ conversation. His headache will not stop pounding and black spots swarm his vision once he has risen.
“I apologize for cutting this meeting short, for I am feeling quite unwell. If you would excuse me.” He bows and turns to leave.
“But the meeting is not over yet, Hanguang-jun—” Sect Leader Yao protests but Lan Wangji does not stay to hear the rest of the sentence.
Lan Wangji knows he should be ashamed for disrupting the Sect Leader, however once he hears the outraged Sect Leader’s cries, he cannot find it within himself to care. He will copy the Sect rules if it will put the metaphorical uncle in his mind at ease.
The sensation in his fingers and legs is completely gone and his ears will not stop ringing as he walks down the gravel paths of the Cloud Recess. Black spots slowly reappear in the edge of his vision with an odd static feeling as its company.
He is halfway to the Jingshi when he completely blacks out.