Chapter Text
Wen Xu had, unfortunately, gotten used to cleaning up his didi’s messes. Chao-er had the unenviable ability to turn every situation to his own worse fortune. Given a choice, he would inevitably decide to fuck the one girl in a crowd that would send three families howling for his blood. The little bitch at his side hadn’t helped his disposition any, either.
That was why Wen Xu got to enjoy the spoils of the Cloud Recesses and his didi got to sullenly oversee the boring Indoctrination. Well, Wen Chao had been overseeing the indoctrination of a generation of sect heirs. Now, he was mostly sulking about some insult while the generation of sect heirs was starving in a cave.
At some point, Wen Xu supposed he’d have to get the full story, but more importantly, he had to go and see what was left after four days. His men seemed to share his contempt for Wen Chao's leadership, which Wen Xu supposed he should curb, but honestly, why Wen Chao continued to receive Wen Ruohan's merciful neglect was an ongoing question. One he didn't plan to have answered today.
Which is how he ended up standing in front of the sealed off aftermath of a cave-in. The seal itself was good work: strong, well-anchored and keyed to a Wen seal. Easy enough to gently remove it and set up a silencing ward to conceal their presence. Honestly Wen Zhuliu was wasted in his brother's contingent.
His men got to work, and soon enough there was an opening large enough for a man to pass through. Wen Xu sent a low level disciple in first, because either the idiots or a giant monster might be waiting at the bottleneck. When the disciple came back with the all-clear, then Wen Xu led half the men in and left the rest to clear the remainder.
As soon as he got a little more than halfway down the trail, Wen Xu heard the soft echoes of music. He could only catch a few notes in between long breaks of silences. He motioned for greater silence, and reduced his own pace to little more than a crawl.
The track they’d been following ended in a steep dropoff to one side, ropes and the way the rubble had slid away pointed to where Chao-er’s adventure must have continued. As one, he and his men made the leap, landing neatly at the base.
Ahead, there was a flicker of light licking around the edges of a turn. Wen Xu gestured the torch-bearing guards a little further to the back and took up the lead again. The humming was getting louder, and Wen Xu could pick up the melody. Someone was still alive.
Wen Xu swirled his cape a little dramatically as he turned the corner, to make the best impression possible. What greeted him was far more interesting. Lan Wangji was leaning up against the cave wall, eyes closed, hand in the hair of Wei Wuxian, who was lying in his lap. Lan Wangji was the source of the humming, though it had faded to bare murmurs now.
They both looked exhausted and tapped of spiritual energy. The way Wei Wuxian was lying completely boneless, Wen Xu would bet he was unconscious. He hand signalled his men to fan out into the rest of the cavern. This pleasure he would keep for himself.
"Second Young Master Lan," he said softly. "Wake up."
Lan Wangji jolted into wakefulness, hand scrabbling for the sword Wen Xu had wisely kicked away. Then his eyes focused on Wen Xu properly.
Wen Xu only liked to bet when the odds had been already shifted in his favor. He would bet now that this was the stuff of Lan Wangji's nightmares. Armed men in Wen robes, with firelight glinting off of their blades. Their meeting in the Cloud Recesses was not so long ago that time might have had a chance to blunt his memories.
Wen Xu waited while Lan Wangji looked around. He was surrounded, and more voices could be heard from the disciples exploring the rest of the cavern. His sitting position was unfavorable, and he was further hampered by Wei Wuxian's dead weight.
Very sensibly, Lan Wangji sat still and kept his hands clearly visible and pinned his gaze somewhere over Wen Xu's right shoulder. An easy surrender to Wen Xu's experienced eyes.
"Very good," Wen Xu praised, then squashed the thrum of satisfaction at the way Lan Wangji's eyes tightened in response. This was about business. "The false Xuanwu?"
"Dead," Lan Wangji said without any kind of pride.
"Are there any others left?" Wen Xu asked.
Lan Wangji stayed silent.
"Are the others dead? Escaped?" He prompted.
Lan Wangji still said nothing, though his lips pursed minutely.
"If they escaped this cavern, can you guarantee they left the cave system entirely?" Wen Xu asked reasonably. "We will block this entrance when we leave. If you say nothing now, you will damn whoever remains here to slow death by starvation."
Lan Wangji's eyes locked with his for the briefest moment, and he could see all of the frustration at this choice. Better to become a hostage than to die pointlessly in a cave. Better to sacrifice his cohorts' escape than to leave them in the dark.
"There were fresh leaves on the surface of the pond," Lan Wangji says finally. "The tunnel they took was blocked by the body of the false Xuanwu."
Wen Xu only nodded. There was no need to gloat at this capitulation. Instead, he pointedly looked at Wei Wuxian. "Is he dead?"
"He has a fever," Lan Wangji said somehow fiercely for all that he stayed quiet.
Still, it was enough that Wuxian seemed to rouse a little and rolled over more to the fire. The light reflected darkly off a sword held loosely in his grip. Curious, Wen Xu went to take it from him, only for Lan Wangji to say hurriedly, " No, don't."
Wen Xu looked hard at Lan Wangji. He kept his tone controlled and easy as he said,"You don't say no to me."
Still, the warning meant that he was more careful in his approach. Channeling a small amount of spiritual power, he tried to feel out the edges of the sword’s own. Instead of the store of spiritual energy, built up by use over time, there was a sucking void, burning cold and dark.
Wen Xu cut the connection abruptly and took a long moment. He knew the feel of this, though he never would have expected it to be here. This prize, properly brought to his father’s court, would cover a multitude of indiscretions. He eyed the way Wuxian was clutching the thing, heedless of his bleeding palms. Wen Ruohan’s search for Xue Yang was only half for the missing yin iron. His priorities would have to shift.
“Go find the healer we brought,” Wen Xu commanded the nearest disciple. He switched his attention to Lan Wangji while he waited. “Are you injured? You’ll be walking out.”
Lan Wangji looked down pointedly at his leg, where there were two nasty gashes with swollen edges. Then he looked back at Wen Xu flatly. Wen Xu had once made him walk from the Cloud Recesses to Qishan on a broken leg. Lan Wangji had done it silently, and the determination in his face suggested he would do it again if necessary.
Wen Xu didn’t have time for that kind of pace. If he understood correctly, he also had no need to be concerned about one of the Twin Jades overpowering his guards and making a break for the scattered Lan sect. “Anywhere else?” Wen Xu inquired politely.
Lan Wangji managed to look particularly doubtful, but only shook his head in response. Good enough for now, then.
That sorted, Wen Xu turned to the next disciple. “Do you have a second cloak?”
The disciple nodded, reluctantly. Wen Xu didn't particularly care to take a rare personal item from someone following him, but needs must.
“Good. Get it out then,” Wen Xu continued, rummaging around for a blank talisman paper and his personal seal. He exchanged a sealed requisition order in his name for the cloak. “Thank you. Replace it as soon as possible. Contact me if there’s any issue with the requisition.”
Before he had to figure out how to take away Wuxian’s teething toy, the healer finally arrived. Wen Xu was thankful for the foresight in grabbing one of the better branch sect healers in case they’d shown up to a massacre. He could smell that they’d be pulling bodies out with them, but they'd be bringing his prizes home.
The dead disciples could at least receive a perfunctory ceremony outside the cave. No one deserved to die unmourned and unburied, and Wen Xu knew loyalty lived in things like this. His brother's dead men would be spared the time.
“Knock him out, first,” Wen Xu commanded, gesturing at Wuxian. "Make sure he's stable, but don't use any spiritual energy." If he guessed right, it wouldn't do to have the traces of proof washed away. On the other hand, he had seen his father's temper and didn't particularly want to see what form Wei Wuxian's would take deprived of the sword he held onto so fiercely.
As soon as the healer confirmed that Wei Wuxian was truly dead to the world for the time being, Wen Xu swept in with the cloak to wrap up the sword. He made very sure that no part of his skin ever touched the metal. The wrapped sword went into his personal qiankun pouch. Only when it had been secured did he turn back to other matters.
"Make sure he's ready to walk," Wen Xu continued, shifting to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji was pale and wide-eyed and maybe a little mutinous behind his blank face, but Wen Xu had other issues to deal with before they could leave.
Wen Xu made his way to the water's edge. There were plenty of signs that a fight had taken place: long scrapes across the rock, still slick with ichor mixed with drying blood. Now, the top of the water was utterly calm, no sign of what had taken place before, or any particular sign of the monster lurking in the depths.
He nudged a rock into the water, relishing in the break from calm to chaos, ripples carrying the alarm away. No reaction, though he felt that all his nerves were at attention, waiting for the slightest movement. Still, nothing.
He rounded up those who could reliably swim, looking for the monster, the hidden entrance Lan Wangji had described or both. In the meantime, others were sent down different passages in small teams, and still others brought in enough fuel to get a fire going and pulled out rations.
Soon enough, a shout went up about the monster beneath the rocky island. He got the swimmers to attach ropes to haul the beast close enough to shore to take its head. A tertiary prize, maybe, but the head of a Xuanwu, even a false one, was still a prize. The swords, spears, and broken arrows stabbed into its neck were particularly interesting
Moving the beast also had the benefit of unblocking the underwater passage. Finally, they could get out of the cave. Wen Xu had had enough of caves for years, probably.
He asked for two volunteers from the strongest of the swimmers. "You have waterproof pouches?" He confirmed, waiting for the swimmers to pull them out in example. "Take flares through the tunnel. You'll also need to set ropes up on the way. Two tugs will mean that you're through and you've found an exit. Set flares as soon as you manage to get outside, and then head for Nightless City. If you can't get out, three tugs on the line will mean you need retrieval and we'll haul you out. You understand?"
The swimmers bowed in understanding and went to see about coiling the rope properly for their excursion. He'd need to see about sending watchers topside, but he needed to finish arranging the scene.
Cleaning up his didi's messes was often about disappearing unfortunate people. Disappearing people was all about setting up a plausible story. He returned to Lan Wangji and Wuxian, still set off to the side.
Grabbing one of the disciples set to guard Lan Wangji, he pointed at Wei Wuxian's unconscious body. "Drag him down to the water," Wen Xu commanded. "Don't be gentle, and watch your footprints."
The disciple did exactly as requested, a veteran to the more unsavory parts of a place in Wen Xu's contingent. Lan Wangji got as far as a low crouch before he remembered himself.
"He is more valuable to you alive," Lan Wangji said in something that might pass as a calm voice.
"Young Master Lan," Wen Xu answered in a clear carrying voice, smiling all the while. "The story I will tell is that when I arrived, too late, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were dead."
___
Wei Wuxian woke up with a gasp, like finally breaking the surface of the water. Blinking, he tried to make his eyes focus. Wen Qing's worried face swam into view. He met her gaze and tried to smile.
The last time he'd seen her, she was being hauled away with tears in her eyes. Here and now, her worried expression abruptly turned into something blank and guarded.
Standing up, she formally bowed, saying, "He is awake, Sect Leader."
Straightening to a more formal kneeling posture, he tried to take in as much as he could as quickly as he could. Lan Wangji was kneeling neatly or as neatly as he could next to him, still in his bloodstained white robes. Wei Wuxian knew at least that his fever had broken, and hoped Lan Wangji's leg had seen some form of healing. At least the blood he could see looked old and dried.
Two guards in Wen colors stood a scant step behind Lan Wangji, hands ready on their sheathed swords. Wei Wuxian had his own guards, though they mostly seemed to be there to keep him from falling on his face. At the corners of his vision, he could see the still figures of additional guards on the periphery of the room. The hands on his shoulders kept him from looking further around the room, but it sounded like they were at the front of a big, echoing space. He tensed at the feeling of unseen eyes on his back.
After her announcement, Wen Qing had swept off to the side and now stood demurely with clasped hands. Across from her was presumably someone important in the Wen Sect based on his fancy hair piece that honestly rivaled Lan Wangji's for height. He was grinning in a rather disconcerting way. Behind them rose a massive black seat atop a red dais. Wen Ruohan tapped a long, sharp fingernail on the arm in thought.
Wen Ruohan's face was pale like the sun had never touched it. His dark eyes glimmered from the shadows of his brows, furrowed deeply. He looked impatient, perhaps. His expression was difficult to read in the dim red light coming from somewhere behind Wei Wuxian. The guards’ hands on his shoulders kept him from looking for the source.
"Your point in bringing them before me, Wen Xu?" Wen Ruohan asked coldly.
"Father," the important Wen sect person, who must be the sect heir Wen Xu, said. "My purpose is twofold. First-"
Here, Wen Xu broke off to present a cloth-wrapped bundle across his palms.
"Approach," Wen Ruoham ordered, frowning.
Wei Wuxian lacked the context to read the tension in the room properly. He frantically racked his brain for whatever he knew of Wen Ruohan and his heirs. Precious little, he found, besides his dealings with Wen Chao. He knew of Wen Xu, but he'd only seen the man once at a distance in a Discussion Conference he'd been pointedly trying to avoid as much as possible. The internal politics of the Wen sect were opaque to outsiders.
Wen Ruohan flicked away the covering cloth, revealing a blackened sword. His disinterest flipped in an instant to avarice.
"Another piece," Wen Ruohan nearly crooned. "Beyond whatever Xue Yang might have found. Oh, well done."
Faint black wisps of energy peeled off the sword to play around Wen Ruohan's clawed fingers. Wen Ruohan watched the play of shadows with obvious relish, moving his hand this way and that to set them off.
Then his eyes snapped back to Wen Xu. "Twofold, you said?"
Wen Xu bowed again, once more covering the sword and letting it hang down at his side. "If you would care to examine this one?" Wen Xu gestured at Wei Wuxian.
The guards tightened up their hold as Wen Ruohan descended. Hands on his wrists and shoulders held him firm as he struggled instinctively. Immobilized, Wei Wuxian grinned through his panic, uncertain what exactly an examination would involve.
Thankfully, Wen Ruohan only directed a small stream of spiritual energy at his forehead. It was not peaceful or soothing the way he remembered Lan Zhan's being. Instead, the energy moved unsteadily through his own, somehow choked and curdled, sticky and clinging.
When Wen Ruohan finally backed away, Wei Wuxian had to fight back an urge to shake himself like a horse warding off flies. Wen Ruohan's face contained the kind of consideration that mostly made Wei Wuxian want to scratch his skin off.
"And you think he will cooperate?" Wen Ruohan asked disinterestedly.
Wei Wuxian did not particularly like the sound of that.
Wen Xu joined Wen Ruohan's side, presumably the better to stare down at Wei Wuxian in contempt. "This one is Wei Wuxian, head disciple of the Jiang Sect," Wen Xu explained. "There is his own skin and there is Lotus Pier. If he won't bend for the one, he will for the other."
Wei Wuxian wished he could itch his nose. Instead he cleared his throat and said,"Sect Leader Wen, Young Master Wen, I wish I could say I might be able to help, but I am honestly lost.”
He tried to widen his eyes disarmingly. He liked his skin and Lotus Pier as they were.
Wen Xu held out the sword again, this time with the wrapped hilt firmly in his hand, and the blade flicking out in front of Wei Wuxian. "You've used this before, I would assume in fighting the false Xuanwu. We would like a demonstration."
At a nod from Wen Xu, Wei Wuxian's arms were released roughly. Wen Xu motioned again with the sword, more impatiently this time.
There were guards still at his back, guards at Lan Wangji's back. Lan Wangji was looking at him with wide eyes, an open mouth, and a bloody leg that Wei Wuxian wasn't sure could even hold his weight. All the reasons that both of them had agreed to this scam indoctrination still stood. Weaponless, conscious for less than the time it took to burn a stick of incense, and with a wounded ally, Wei Wuxian couldn't figure out a way to refuse or defuse the situation. So he just kept a smile on his face instead.
Half expecting the screaming to start again, Wei Wuxian reached out cautiously. When he closed his fingers on the blade, nothing particularly happened; no black smoke, no screaming. It was just an old sword in his hand.
Wen Xu looked openly frustrated, but Wen Ruohan was still only considering. Wei Wuxian looked over quickly to try and catch Lan Zhan's reaction.
Lan Zhan was frowning, which was not the comfort he would like. Or at least it was only the obscure kind of comfort of having Lan Zhan there and listening.
“It would be wise to prove yourself useful,” Wen Xu said rather meaningfully.
“My wisdom has only ever been that of poets and drunkards,” Wei Wuxian said winningly.
Wen Xu said sharply, “How do you explain the crowd of spears and swords and broken arrows in the false Xuanwu’s throat?”
Wei Wuxian did in fact remember reaching for anything that would give them a better chance in the last desperate moments of the fight. At the very end of all he could draw upon, he’d felt something give. Like a new step in cultivation, only this was unlike anything he’d felt before. Completely removed from himself and his golden core, it had run through him like a dark tide.
As far as explanations or demonstrations went, he did not know how to reach for it now without that gut-wrenching desperation. ‘“A new piece beyond what Xue Yang would have found,”’ Wen Ruohan had said. A new Yin Iron piece? They thought he had used the Yin Iron.
If he had, he could not cooperate. To hand Wen Ruohan further power the other sects could not counter would be to further increase tensions, tensions that were ready to break to full out war.
Fine. He’d been willing to put his skin on the line before. He could do so again.
Grimly, he pulled back his hands and fisted them on his knees. His smile back at Wen Xu was as uncooperative as he could make it. “I cannot explain it, Young Master Wen.”
Wen Ruohan still watched him with only dispassionate interest. Wen Xu looked angry enough to hit him. Good. He could take it.
An inhuman roar broke through their standoff. Wei Wuxian tried to orient to the noise, but he was held firm again.
Lan Wangji’s guards broke away for their own safety. Something blackened, something that might have once been human and bearing a blade a handspan thick came hard for Lan Wangji.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian shouted in belated warning.
As ever, one of the peerless Twin Jades reacted with effortless speed. Lan Wangji threw himself backward into a controlled slide to the dais, trusting his spiritual energy to hold his weight. At the end, he planted his feet, and turned to meet his attacker.
Unfortunately, there was only limited space on the path. Dodging blows in the small space was taking more energy than Lan Wangji really had to expend after days of being injured and without food. Without a sword or guqin, he was stuck on the defense. The blows he managed to land lacked his usual strength. The thing barely stumbled from Lan Wangji’s kick. Every swing of the dark thing’s sword came a little closer.
“Do you plan to let him die?” Wen Ruohan asked, only cold curiosity in his voice.
This wasn’t his skin being risked, not the bargain he’d silently rejected. This was Lan Zhan about to be slaughtered in front of him.
Wei Wuxian cursed and leaned forward into the restraining hands and just the tiniest bit closer to the sword. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he felt for that inky void, that other threshold. Again, that surge of power ran through him.
Snapping his eyes open, he could feel what was driving it: will made powerful by something similar to the ocean running through him now. Riding his own surge of power, he swamped the lines of command, like a storm would a boat.
There was no finesse, no effort made to check the flow; there was just the power channeling through him.
The puppet fell to its knees in front of a panting Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian also slumped back, his guards once more having to keep him upright.
“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “We’ll find a use for you, yet.”
Then Wei Wuxian knew no more.
___
Wei Wuxian woke up to darkness. He tried not to move or make a noise to give himself away.
“Awake?” Lan Wangji asked quietly.
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian whispered back, staring blindly to try and catch sight of him.
“I will get the food,” Lan Wangji told him, still quietly.
There was the rustling of robes and blankets, then quiet murmuring at the door. A light filled the doorway, and Wei Wuxian could see Lan Wangji coming back with a candle and a bowl on the tray.
Behind him, the silhouettes of guards turned away from the door opening. There was no door that Wei Wuxian could see, only the golden glitter of activated wards.
Lan Wangji settled back on the bed, the candle casting shadows on half of his profile. The tiny fraction of the room Wei Wuxian could see by its light showed very little. There was the bed Wei Wuxian was in, big enough for two men to lie in. There were no tables, no windows that he could see. There was only the heavy wooden frame atop the stone floor
Wei Wuxian stopped his examination of the room to accept the bowl of soup. “You’ve been fed?” he asked, uncertainly. There was no second portion.
Lan Wangji only nodded. His hair piece was gone. Instead, his hair was pulled back into a braid and tied with the ends of his headband. He still wore the same robes, but he must have been given the opportunity to wash at some point. The dirt from the cave no longer clung to him.
In this light, he looked soft and tired. For a moment, Wei Wuxian was fiercely glad that Lan Wangji was alive and sitting on the same bed with a worried furrow between his eyes.
“I would do it again,” Wei Wuxian thought. Of course, that was the problem he suspected. He would be asked to do it again.
“So, the sword is like the Yin Iron, then,” Wei Wuxian said, thinking aloud. “Thought there were only four.”
“Should not have done that,” Lan Wangji said quietly. “The Yin Iron corrupts.”
“Then I hurt no one besides myself,” Wuxian said as reasonably as he could. “I would pay that price again to not see you die before Wen Ruohan’s seat.”
Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment. Wei Wuxian used it to spoon more of what had turned out to be a hearty beef broth into his mouth. Lan Wangji smiled down at him a little, the barest turn to the corner of his mouth.
Wei Wuxian could imagine a thousand thoughts behind Lan Wangji’s smile. The price would grow steeper as he was used. Whatever he wrought here would appear on a battlefield against their own sects. Yet, Lan Zhan was alive in the candlelight tonight. There was no clear path here, no black and white admonition by some Lan elder. Each step must be a tentative thing. A choice over and over, trusting himself to stop before they were lost entirely.
Finally, when the bowl was by the door and they were laying down together, Wei Wuxian half-drowsing already, Lan Wangji finally spoke. “Keep our honor above my life,” Lan Wangji said, so softly that Wei Wuxian might have been dreaming. “Keep your heart safe.”
___
The next morning was the beginning of a mind-numbing routine. Lan Wangji woke up as he would normally at five. Gingerly, he extracted himself from the bed, trying to avoid jostling Wei Wuxian. He stilled as Wei Wuxian murmured in his sleep, only moving again when it was silent once more. How odd to have every move curtailed by a bedmate’s comfort. Wei Wuxian had been fussy in his sleep at the cave, searching for whatever comfort could be found. When he finally fell asleep, taken down by fatigue and fever, he’d sprawled bonelessly. There had barely been any change when the healer had rendered him unconscious. To see him now in a true sleep brought a strange sense of satisfaction.
Lan Wangji sat beside the bed in the still darkened room. He settled into meditation. Slowly, his own breaths aligned with Wei Wuxian’s sleep-slowed rhythm. It was strange to not see any part of the gray pre-dawn light filtering in around the edges of the room. Instead, there was only the golden wards and the faintest bit of light from torches.The deepest forms eluded him. He was caught only in a light trance, focused on each breath.
Two hours later, when he would have been attending his first lectures for the day, Lan Wangji’s eyes flew open at the sound of movement. A guard was at the entrance, one of the inner sect disciples based on the embroidery and fineness of his robes. He had the same tray as the previous night, this time with a small teapot, two cups, and two bowls of congee. It passed smoothly through the warded entry while the disciple scrupulously kept every part of himself outside.
Lan Wangji nodded briefly as he took the tray. The disciple lingered for an uncomfortable moment, perhaps trying to catch a peek at the cultivator who had sparked such interest. Lan Wangji smoothly shifted over to block his view. The disciple jumped and left swiftly. It settled something in him.
Wei Wuxian posed something of a conundrum. Somehow, he was still asleep, which spoke to severe exhaustion. Lan Wangji was loath to wake him, but equally unwilling to have him wake confused under the eyes of the Wen Sect.
"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji called softly. For a moment, Wei Wuxian’s face was overtaken by the softest smile Lan Wangji had ever seen. It was right there at the corner of his eyes. And then it all shuttered away into something stiffer and well-worn.
"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "So they plan to feed you after all!"
"Mn," Lan Wangji agreed.
They ate in silence, perched side by side on the bed. Lan Wangji was accustomed to it. Wei Wuxian was cautious about listening ears. They lingered over cups of tea, covertly watching the warded doorway. Lan Wangji was unsure what to expect. A horde of armed guards?
What they got was Wen Xu, sweeping in once more, this time in court-appropriate robes. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both stood to meet him. The black and red patterned silk over robe was cinched at his waist with the same belt with the demon headed clasp, and his sword was still ready at hand.
"Second Young Master Lan," Wen Xu greeted him with the faintest inclination of his head. "Please be seated."
Warily, Lan Wangji sat back on the bed. However, Wen Xu only nodded before handing a metal pass to the still standing Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji couldn't see much of it from his position, but he guessed it worked similarly to the Gusu Lan sect's jade passes. Like their tray which must have a modified version on it somewhere, the bearer could move through the wards. The tray was locked to only the inanimate objects that it carried, as Lan Wangji’s careful probing of the boundary had shown. No doubt this was tied only to a single bearer.
Wei Wuxian's look back at him was reluctant. Lan Wangji didn't know what to say or do to comfort him. They both had reasons for their current cooperation. Now was not the chance they'd been looking for. What more could he offer? He nodded in whatever reassurance he could give.
Wei Wuxian settled a smile on his face, loosened his shoulders, and gestured jauntily at Wen Xu to lead the way out. Wen Xu only scowled, but allowed Wei Wuxian his frivolity. Still, Wei Wuxian followed, no matter how reluctantly.
Lan Wangji was left alone and remained so for the majority of the day.
He was allowed out to a bathing room for a brief period of time. This time there was a horde of armed guards. Senior disciples who kept him centered carefully in a formation and kept their swords always ready to draw.
He was given time to take care of the necessities and wash with cold water from a basin. A guard remained in the room, but at least he mostly looked away. No other robes were provided, and he did the best to launder his own with the meager supplies. The blood was dried and set in already, but he did what he could. His leg, thankfully, had in fact been mostly healed. The skin around the remaining scabs had no concerning warmth or redness. His hair was something he could only finger comb, braid back, and hope for the best.
When he was returned back to the same room, there was a cold pot of tea, congealed rice, and an unappetizing mess of boiled vegetables. He ate with mechanical necessity. He would need his strength for whatever came next.
When he slid the tray through the doorway, it was quickly collected by a silent servant outside the barrier. Then, he was alone again.
He had thought to use the day productively. He had found solace in solitude for so long. Hours alone for his own pursuits was once all that he might have asked for. Now, without his guqin, the silence of the jingshi, the scent of his preferred incense, without the choice to leave this room and take to the backhills of Cloud Recesses or consult the Library Pavilion, he found himself easily distracted and restless.
Meditation amplified the feeling of watching eyes until every noise had him slipping back to awareness with a flinch. He took up a painfully slow version of the most basic sword forms. He was wary of what the more advanced forms would give away. He had hoped that a honey slow performance would let him make use of the tensions thrumming through him. His concentration held up only for a single pass.
Disgruntled, he settled back into his dissatisfying meditation. Time continued to pass less like a constant stream and more like a reluctant trickle. Finally, finally he heard the noise of a crowd coming towards him.
He tried not to look too much like a hound awaiting its master's return. He stayed seated, but he could not help the way all of his attention was on the warded doorway. It flickered, and then was opened as Wei Wuxian swept in with two guards behind him. Following him were a pair of servants bearing trays filled with food. Here were dishes Lan Wangji could imagine gracing the Wen’s tables. There was roasted duck, fragrant with spices and skin beautifully golden. Daringly red noodles and what looked to be lamb also featured on their table. A table was even brought in at the rear to provide a proper display. A squat jar of Qishan liquor completed the meal. It was obvious to whose taste the meal had been catered. At least the same plain tea set had made a reappearance.
Wei Wuxian stood awkwardly as matters were arranged. He had been given the opportunity to bathe as well, Lan Wangji supposed. Though he still wore black and red, the order had been changed. Now, Wei Wuxian was wearing a red outer robe over a black under robe. All was of fine make, and in the candlelight, embroidery in the shape of flames shimmered over the red cloth. A wide black leather belt and his black arm wraps completed his new outfit. He was wearing Wen robes, in Wen colors.
Finally, the servers and guards retreated, the wards snapping back into place. Lan Wangji didn’t know what to say in the face of this blatant bribery. He said nothing and instead went to busy himself pouring. His fingers stalled above the cups. Would Wei Wuxian want liquor? Lan Wangji was unwilling to dull his senses here, but he would not begrudge Wei Wuxian whatever comfort he might find in it.
Wei Wuxian solved his conundrum by pouring cups of tea for them both. Lan Wangji’s hands fell to his lap uselessly. Again, they were silent as they ate.
It was only after the dishes were cleared and they had settled in the bed that Wei Wuxian spoke again. "I was given access to a piece of the Yin Iron and Xue Chonghai’s manuscripts," he said bleakly. Lan Wangji understood. These were secrets the sect would kill to keep.
Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian’s face across the bed. His eyes were closed and the stark lines in his brow spoke of his pain. There was little comfort he could offer into this space between them.
"Wen Xu intended to have us thought dead," Lan Wangji supplied. Wei Wuxian’s eyes flashed open. He could not speak more plainly of his thin hopes, but, even in the dark, he felt that Wei Wuxian's sharp eyes caught every shade of meaning in his often blank face.
There was little else to say. Wrapped up in their thoughts, they fell into an uneasy sleep.
___
If Lan Wangji had thought about it, in some time before this barebones captivity, he might have thought he could survive admirably in such an environment. Hadn't he sought out isolated studies? Had his cultivation not flourished under secluded meditation? It should not matter that this was not a spiritual center guarded by his sect. Yet his separation from the sun's cycle, the interminable waiting, the eyes and ears always around the edges frayed his will and his sect's famed composure. He held tightly to the routine that made up his day and the discipline that he had spent his lifetime learning. Held tightly, and knew his grip was slipping.
His focus and his tracking of time was an uncertain thing. At times, it felt like his mind was a muddy mountainside. Each thought slid queasily down away from his awareness at each minor distraction and the deep sucking mud of despair pulled them further into the mists of oblivion. He caught himself staring aimlessly at nothing too frequently.
Still, he rose at the Lan sect’s prescribed waking hour or so he hoped, kept himself busy when he could, forcing himself onward like a balking horse, and basked in the times he had with company. At night, he would stay awake just to hear Wei Wuxian's breathing.
The routine was brutal, the breaks in it worse.
___
The feast the first night was only for special achievements. Each night afterwards had a meal of light broth, or fresh fruit, or plain breads. Even with his forced inactivity, Lan Wangji knew it was not enough for his body to finish healing or pay off the debts of the last rounds of hunger. He began to practice inedia in earnest, but that wasn't enough to prevent him from losing weight.
Wei Wuxian began to push more of the evening meal to Lan Wangji, claiming sumptuous working lunches. Lan Wangji continued to receive barely edible food at midday and did not speak of the discrepancy. When Wei Wuxian ate little or nothing, the portion size dropped at the next meal. More evidence that everything they did was being monitored. When Wei Wuxian snuck choice bits of his lunch back to Lan Wangji, no evening meal appeared that night at all.
When asked, the servants provided a message from Wen Xu. Wei Wuxian examined the small scroll and then handed it over to Lan Wangji.
Wen Xu was glad that the midday meal was enough to satiate Wei Wuxian, and wished not to spoil his appetite for the particular delicacies of the next day. Perhaps it would be preferable for Wei Wuxian to exert himself properly to truly appreciate the food with which he had been provided. Lan Wangji's presence tomorrow might provide a sufficient reason to demonstrate his control of the Yin Iron creations.
Lan Wangji remembered the speed and strength of the once-human thing he had fought in the throne room. If he were thrown to their mercies, Lan Wangji was unsure of the outcome without intervention. Still, he would not voice his concern to Wei Wuxian. He had already chosen to accept Wei Wuxian's judgment.
“Please tell Young Master Wen, that won’t be necessarily,” Wei Wuxian grimly told the still watching servant.
The next afternoon's attempted meditation was broken by Wei Wuxian returning to their rooms, unconscious. The guards laid him on the floor barely inside the wards. They might have gone further, but Lan Wangji's instinctive move to Wei Wuxian's side sent them moving with speed to their side of the wards.
Carefully, Lan Wangji carried Wei Wuxian to the bed. He had nothing else he could offer.
"What did you do, Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji couldn't help asking.
Dinner that night was bountiful. Wei Wuxian was careful to make steady progress from then on.
__
Wei Wuxian's control of what he called “puppets” improved until he was able to control as many as Wen Ruohan had created. Still, Wen Ruohan, with the many pieces he held, remained ever more powerful. Once, Wei Wuxian came back more stumbling than walking, late enough that their meal was waiting for him. Thin wisps of shadowy energy came off him, like the last smoke from a doused fire. Lan Wangji did not run, even now, but he moved with speed to Wei Wuxian’s side.
Wei Wuxian was holding his hand tightly to his chest. Lan Wangji eased him down to the bed, then knelt before him, waiting.
“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said softly. His voice was scratchy from the pain. “Wen Qing has already done what she can. It will all heal.”
Still, Lan Wangji stubbornly waited. Finally, Wei Wuxian held his hands out for Lan Wangji’s examination. Bandages covered both palms and fingers, cleverly wrapped to leave no skin bare, but retain function. Lan Wangji was unwilling to ruin such careful work.
Closing his eyes, Lan Wangji tried to gently probe with spiritual energy. The dense network of channels he would expect in a cultivator’s hands felt tender and tremblingly raw. Like irrigation channels after a flood, the spiritual energy sputtered in the wake of a more turbulent flow. Though damaged, the channels remained intact. The thin stream of energy Lan Wangji fed into Wei Wuxian’s fingertips circulated properly, some of the flow stabilizing further.
“The Yin Iron did this?” Lan Wangji asked worriedly.
“Wen Ruohan took control of his puppets during my practice.” Wei Wuxian’s tone was wry, and any anger was buried deep from listening ears. “He wields three pieces of the Yin iron now.”
Lan Wangji didn’t know enough about the Yin iron to judge how one may contest another’s control. In a duel between cultivators, Lan Wangji had long developed an eye to judge his own opponents and to predict the outcome of a match. Here, he could only see the damage and project from there.
Lan Wangji looked up at Wei Wuxian’s determined face, still lined with pain. Miserably, Lan Wangji knew as he had always known that Wei Wuxian would gnaw his own hand off, if it would give them a chance to run from this place. This would not be the last time Wei Wuxian pushed the limits of what he could do. He wanted to bury his face in Wei Wuxian’s hands or Wei Wuxian’s robes. He wanted a moment of comfort.
Instead, he poured Wei Wuxian a bowl of liquor, steady as ever. He ignored Wei Wuxian’s look of surprise and attended to their meal in silence.
In the night, he watched Wei Wuxian’s sleeping form huddle around his hands. Lan Wangji thought of all the promises he could not make. Promises of protection and security could not last when everything might change tomorrow. Unspoken, they tasted of ashes.
__
Wei Wuxian did not always return damaged or unconscious. More often than not, he came back tired and drained, but smiling.
Lan Wangji remembered the long days in the lecture hall where Wei Wuxian did everything but listen respectfully and carefully. The avoidance of his uncle’s dry recitation was not surprising when Wei Wuxian was all quicksilver energy. Still, Lan Wangji had thought himself well enough apprised of Wei Wuxian’s scholastic abilities. He was, of course, mistaken.
To see Wei Wuxian turn all of his abilities to a singular goal was fascinating. Their quiet late night conversation turned to matters of cultivation methods. Manuscripts considered a low enough level of secret, Lan Wangji supposed, appeared in their rooms like mushrooms after a rainstorm. Wei Wuxian thrived in their chaos and Lan Wangji ordered them when he was gone. He could follow along with the foundation of what Wei Wuxian was researching, enough to bounce ideas between them. What he lacked was the creative spark that let Wei Wuxian create something entirely new. Applying himself to studying the scraps allowed in their glorified cell at least broke up his day.
Days slid by. Weeks that were far past what his thin hopes could endure. Wei Wuxian’s thoughts turned to more practical applications than just theoretical musings.
Wei Wuxian’s carefully crafted, but incisive questions about how Lan Wangji wielded his guqin became in turn a theory about resentful energy. His growing control of the puppets, from what Lan Wangji could divine from both Wei Wuxian’s commentary and their increasing comfort, maintained Wen Ruohan or perhaps more crucially Wen Xu’s favor. Still, his new theories of how to bring resentful energy under his control was a way to gain more.
He returned, triumphant, capable of creating waves of force like what Lan Wangji could bring to bear with his guqin.
___
Lan Wangji considered Wei Wuxian’s progress as he maintained a perfect handstand. Every night, he returned with some new theory, some new horror. Lan Wangji knew this slow expansion of his mastery of the Yin Iron was restrained, that Wei Wuxian did only what he must. He was buying the food in Lan Wangji’s mouth with the demonstrations of his skill. Buying the safety of the Jiang sect and whatever remained of Lan Wangji’s own.
Maintaining his handstand, Lan Wangji breathed and shifted so he was only supported on his right hand. Lan Wangji knew his own spiritual strength, something he'd built through hard work and long practice. It was a deep well that he could draw from readily, but there was a hard limit. The resentful energy that Wei Wuxian was attempting to draw upon was entirely external, and the only limit was his will. Lan Wangji guessed that the faint waves of resentful energy Wei Wuxian had spoken of, enough to shove a man back or deflect an arrow but little more, were unlikely to be all that could be done with this technique.
"Second Young Master Lan," Wen Xu interrupted.
For a second, Lan Wangji wobbled, as he had not for years. Then he let himself back down to his feet. He stood with as much steel as he could put in his backbone. There had been no sound of footsteps or rustle of clothing to predict Wen Xu's arrival.
"I am requesting your presence," Wen Xu continued, and Lan Wangji just knew there was a certain smugness at his own unpreparedness. Wen Xu tossed him another pass.
It was strange to walk through the hallways just the two of them. He was used to being surrounded by a silent, wary crowd. Stranger still to take a turn and push through a set of doors out of the building entirely. Lan Wangji wanted a moment to bask in the sun, the warmth upon his skin. Wen Xu was still walking, though, and Lan Wangji suspected he could not fall too far behind without consequences.
Still, he took in the wind ruffling his hair and the sound of the grass rustling against his boots. He would hold onto this later when it was just walls again. They came over a small ridge to an area set up for archery practice.
Off to the back, close to the targets, Wei Wuxian stood tall, confident, and loose-limbed. He wore sunlight well. He gestured, and one of the archers in front of him took a shot.
The archer was clever, Lan Wangji thought, reducing the strength of the shot itself and lofting it to just barely curve into Wei Wuxian's range. Wei Wuxian's hands flashed, dark energy formed into something solid. The arrow rebounded, clattering uselessly to the ground. Wei Wuxian raised his arms, laughingly victorious.
For a white hot instant, Lan Zhan burned with jealousy.
In the Cloud Recesses, when Lan Wangji did not want to hear it, Wei Wuxian had made repeated offers of a visit to Yunmeng. Most of the offers were about fun in terms of women and drinking and spicy foods, none of which were particularly alluring. Later on during their search for the Yin Iron, when Lan Wangji might have been more amenable, he had thought of something a little like this. A Wei Wuxian in his element, surrounded by admirers, only instead on the sun-warmed wood of Lotus Pier.
Between their parting in Qinghe and now, so many things had changed. His own responsibilities to the rebuilding of the Lan sect precluded any personal visits to Yunmeng even if they were free. Nor did Lan Wangji have any illusions about what bringing Wei Wuxian back to Gusu would have been like, before the Cloud Recesses burned down. Lan Wangji could not see Wei Wuxian as the cherished head disciple of the Jiang sect and neither could he guarantee his own sect would ever recognize Wei Wuxian's value as Lan Wangji was coming to.
It was unfair that a handful of moments had been enough for Wen Xu and Wen Ruohan to have seen the slightest hints of what Wei Wuxian could do given a sect's resources.Lan Wangji held onto the memory of their moonlight sword fight as proof of all the ways they matched each other. The sharp brilliant moment when Wei Wuxian met his blade without fear or wavering and only a bright grin. The challenge of a worthy opponent was a rare experience for Lan Wangji. Still, he could admit their meeting had been one of hostility and anger on his part. The weeks it had taken for Lan Wangji to thaw enough to see Wei Wuxian with clear eyes were weeks too long.
Wei Wuxian met his eyes and the grin slid away like it had never existed. He visibly paled before Lan Wangji's eyes. Lan Wangji prayed his own face hid the way his heart shivered. He did not want to be the thief of Wei Wuxian's merriment. Whatever version of happiness he might have found here.
"I had read your report on the possibility of shared shielding," Wen Xu said with a lazy curl to his smile. "I am, however, more interested in practical applications. I've brought you a training partner, for a demonstration."
Wen Xu's eyes were cold when he looked at Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, was wearing an expression blanked by panic.
"Young Master Wen," Wei Wuxian began, bowing perfectly respectfully. "I had presented a theory only."
“Humility is a virtue, but intentional delay is unacceptable,” Wen Xu rebutted, plainly enough.
Wei Wuxian’s expression tightened further. He bowed again to Wen Xu, deeper than he had in greeting. Lan Wangji strove to keep a frown off his face. He didn’t like the way Wei Wuxian admitted guilt, yet also lacked Wei Wuxian’s experience dealing with Wen Xu.
Wen Xu merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Go on,” he urged Lan Wangji into the target area. “Three shots and it’s done.”
Lan Wangji could see this time that Wei Wuxian’s brief bow of his head in acknowledgment was also hiding his grimace of distaste. One arrow from a non-cultivating archer could be deadly, though cultivators made for difficult targets. Lan Wangji could dodge or perhaps catch those arrows. Cultivator archers were different. The draw strength alone of a cultivator bow could be crippling for a non-cultivator.
Wei Wuxian was mumbling to himself, fingers flicking through talismanic signs. Lan Wangji kept his eyes on Wen Xu as he retreated back to the rest of the archers. Lan Wangji saw him speaking quietly and knew the archers would be properly motivated to hit their marks without mercy.
Wei Wuxian grabbed Lan Wangji’s hands, fingers intertwining automatically. “I’m sorry for all of this.” The tendrils of resentful energy bloomed, quickly winding around them both. It was uncomfortable, the cold burn of it riding along his skin. It was alien and ever shifting. He was so distracted by his examination of the resentful energy around himself, that he missed the first bowshot.
There was only an arrow, swift and deadly, stilled before them. Wei Wuxian’s hands trembled in front of him, and Lan Wangji could see his teeth clenched and bared in effort.
Another shot, another arrow wavering before the mass of shadows protecting them. Wei Wuxian’s knees wavered. Lan Wangji wrapped an arm around his waist and wished for his sword. The two arrows were nearly close enough to touch, They rested a bare handbreadth from Wei Wuxian’s outstretched arms, aimed at Lan Wangji’s right shoulder. They meant to make him bleed.
A last shot, another arrow held by Wei Wuxian’s power right before Lan Wangji’s eyes. Lan Wangji watched Wen Xu’s face, his satisfaction. Watched as the shadows wavered and broke, as the arrows fell, and Wei Wuxian with them.
Lan Wangji’s arms tightened around Wei Wuxian’s limp form. He carried Wei Wuxian all the way back to their rooms, and found it no burden. Or rather, one he would gladly take to shield Wei Wuxian for only a moment.
Moments were all they could keep for now.
___
After the lesson on the archery fields, Wei Wuxian became more careful in his delays. Wen Xu was too willing to wield reward and punishment equally for his threats to be considered idle. Wei Wuxian’s days became long, not arriving until later and later in the night. Lan Wangji did not have contacts with the guards, most of whom did not have the pendant necessary to enter into the room. Without Wei Wuxian to anchor the ends of his days, the patterns he had built for himself drifted further.
There were times now, when his lonely days became so long that he slept to shorten them. He would wake to Wei Wuxian crawling into their shared bed. On one such night, in the cover of darkness, Wei Wuxian pressed a handful of what felt like paper into his chest.
“I’ve been working on talismans,” Wei Wuxian said pointedly. “Bound to resentful energy. I'm hoping to get them to work soon. They’d be useful facing off at a distance against an armed enemy.”
Lan Wangji gave the barest of nods in understanding. He hid the talismans, untested but undoubtedly powerful in the waistband of his trousers. If they were found, it would be a worse punishment than what they’d faced so far. Lan Wangji would take that risk. It had been too long since their capture to think there might be a rescue, diplomatic or otherwise coming for them. They alone could change their circumstances and Wei Wuxian aimed for escape.
To bind resentful energy to talismans, this was no small thing. The resentful talisman technique was far removed from what Lan Wangji had seen of Wen Ruohan’s puppets. On this alone, a whole new form of cultivation could be built.
Wei Wuxian had devised the technique for the opportunity to pass a handful of talismans to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji brushed a thumb once more over the edge of the talisman paper and tallied their resources silently.
Wei Wuxian had crafted a shield of resentful energy that might serve equally as a weapon. With talismans, Lan Wangji might be able to fight long enough to steal a sword. Lan Wangji could see the glimmer of possibilities. Surely soon.
Lan Wangji dreamed of sunlight.
__
"One last thing," Wei Wuxian whispered in the morning over their tea. "One last thing to improve the control of the puppets by the yin iron."
"It sounds like a risk," Lan Wangji said carefully. It may be better to be fast rather than aggressive if escape was the intention.
"For the Yin iron," Wei Wuxian said more sharply, needing Lan Wangji to understand. For all of it, Lan Wangji heard. For the oncoming war where Wen Ruohan would wield his unopposed Yin iron. A nod in acceptance, and then Wei Wuxian was gone.
Alone, Lan Wangji took care to read over the talismans, allotting a proper placement to each. Careful folds of the corners would let him identify them without looking. All his preparations took place out of sight of the doorway. He had become an expert at creating pockets of privacy. He turned to his body next, stretching to be ready. If Wei Wuxian succeeded, Lan Wangji would need to move in a moment.
Still, Lan Wangji spent the day in a state of stuttering readiness, like a too green horse at a starting line. He swung wildly between calm acceptance of whatever outcome was waiting and a jittering need to somehow change their fortunes. He resisted the urge to touch his talismans again for comfort. At least he knew his face would remain externally composed.
He was kneeling in meditation when the guards came. They were different from the ones who usually accompanied him on any brief excursions out of this room. These had a set expression on their faces and unsheathed swords.
As gracefully as he could, Lan Wangji rose and allowed them to form up around him. If he was walking to his death, he would not tremble.
They moved at speed, hands shoving him forward and off balance. Lan Wangji didn't know what to read into their fearful impatience. They lead him through a warren of hallways to a formal receiving room. Dark stone and wood made for an imposing and coldly haughty space. The flickering torches painted the room in Wen colors: shadows gathered in every corner, and the only light was low and red.
Wen Xu was waiting, seated on a dais at the front of the room. Wei Wuxian was kneeling off to one side before him, surrounded by guards. There was the blush of fresh blood on Wei Wuxian's lips and a thin cut high on his cheekbone.
Lan Wangji's contingent stopped and Lan Wangji perforce stopped with them. He tried to wrangle his face into something more reassuring than just calm resignation. They should have just run.
"The Wen Sect rewards initiative," Wen Xu began. "Yet the Wen Sect will not allow precious resources such as the Yin Iron to be wasted or damaged in the process. You should know this by now, Young Master Wei."
Lan Wangji was unsure what exactly Wei Wuxian had tried to do. Destroy the Yin Iron piece entrusted to him, perhaps?
"We have received reports that Jin sect cultivators have heard of Xue Yang's whereabouts in Nie territory. Xue Yang is in possession of another piece of Yin Iron," Wen Xu continued. "It will be Lan Wangji's responsibility to retrieve both as recompense for Wei Wuxian's overstep this morning."
For a long moment, Lan Wangji froze. Xue Yang and what might be the last piece of Yin Iron not in Wen control, these were the price of Wei Wuxian's mistake? Not death? Not some hideous maiming that would leave him useless. Only a murderer, a trinket, and, presumably, Lan Wangji's own reputation for righteousness. His own and the Lan sect’s. Surely this was meant to degrade him, to force a choice between one life and the many that a Wen Sect with all Yin Iron pieces and another demonic cultivator might take.
Hadn't Lan Wangji already made this choice? He would keep fighting to keep himself and Wei Wuxian alive in the present and let the nebulous future wend where it would. To die now because he could not sacrifice as Wei Wuxian already had? Unthinkable.
Stiffly, he bowed his head in acquiesce.
"Disciples will travel with you to Nie territory. The actual retrieval will be your own work. Xue Yang must be kept alive. Any damage to other cultivators will be left to your own judgment," Wen Xu detailed. "In your absence, Wei Wuxian will rest, overseen by Mistress Wen. He will be awoken only upon your return."
Lan Wangji listened very carefully to the explanation of what he would be required to do. The timeline enforced by an unconscious Wei Wuxian, would be tight, but not impossible. Beyond the barely veiled threats, it felt comfortably like the start of a nighthunt and that familiarity was itself a new horror.
If he could ignore Wei Wuxian struggling between two guards, he could think of what he would need. He had been to the Unclean Realm as an honored guest by his brother's side. He knew enough of Nie territory to guess at possible obstacles. And he knew his own skill. He could do this without taking any lives. Would that excuse the fact that he would go at all?
Was it his duty to escape if released? If he returned to keep Wei Wuxian alive and killed no one else on this insane mission, would he still be condemned? Enough. He would not leave Wei Wuxian to die. The rest would come later.
"I will need a guqin," he said. He tried to lay it out plainly, without expectation. His guqin had been his companion since he was old enough to nighthunt. He missed being able to call on anything he trusted and knew so well.
Wen Xu had a smile on his face like he knew the concession Lan Wangji had already made.
"Master Wen," Wei Wuxian started, voice choked. "Please allow this humble servant-"
"Stop," Wen Xu said simply. "Or you will be gagged." He beckoned to a servant who left the room at speed just below a jog.
Lan Wangji kept his eyes on the fine wood carving behind Wen Xu's head. Thankfully, Wei Wuxian subsided on his own.
They waited in silence.
The servant returned with a long bundle wrapped in dark cloth. He bowed low to Wen Xu and then, at a gesture, presented it for inspection by Lan Wangji.
As he pulled the cloth away, it revealed lustrous dark wood, gleaming in the low light. A fine tracery of cracks in the patina hinted at the instrument's age, and he longed to hear how they would open and warm the sound of the notes he could pull from it. A careful inlay of shimmering red added to its beauty. Though Lan Wangji had never known the Wen sect to be interested in musical cultivation, this must have been crafted for one of their honored inner disciples.
He could not guess how long it had been in their care or when the strings had last been touched. Sitting, he balanced it across his knees and went to tune it.
A sword flicked out to tap across his knuckles.
He froze, muting the strings instinctively.
"Not here," Wen Xu said softly.
Lan Wangji remained unmoving as the servant removed the guqin. Wen Xu's sword did not waver and it stayed bare inches above his hands as the guqin was carefully wrapped away.
"Rise," Wen Xu said finally. "It hurts my neck to have to look at you. It will suffice. Bathe and dress. Robes have been laid out for you. Hurry along."
Dismissed, Lan Wangji tucked an arm behind his back and was thankful his fists could hide the way his fingers trembled.
He was still in the robes he'd first worn in the cave. Though he'd kept them as neat as he could with the bathing supplies he's been provided, a month of wear had him chafing at the feel and smell of them.
As usual, he was provided a basin of cold water, a rough cloth, and a small pitcher of soap. This time though, robes had been placed on a small table beside it, the white almost eerily bright.
Numbly, he undressed and scrubbed himself roughly, ignoring the way the eyes of his guard followed his hands with long practice. He was always watched here.
He gently folded his soiled robes, though he knew in their current state they were destined to be turned to rags or burned, and reached for the ones set aside for him. He transferred the talismans between the two as discreetly and smoothly as he could. Unfolding the top inner robe, he knew it to be his own, pulled from the lone qiankun pouch he'd been allowed to bring to the indoctrination center.
It did not smell of home, and home doubtless now smelled of burning, but for an aching moment, he could imagine the start of a day in the Cloud Recesses. In a moment, his brother’s voice would ring out to him in welcome. But he was still alone in a small room with a watching guard, deep in an enemy sect's territory. He could only breathe and keep moving, tying the clothes about him in a numb meditation.
They'd left him a plain leather band for his hair. He parted and wove together the sections as neatly as he would for the far more ornate pieces he had become accustomed to. When it came time to tie about his headband, he hesitated.
Self-regulation, the honor of bearing the clan sigil, these things are behind him. He was going to put Wei Wuxian's life above whatever harm Xue Yang and the Yin Iron could wreak.
He left it in a neat coil on the stacked pile of his clothes and walked away.
Lan Wangji meticulously retraced his steps to the hall and once more stared at the carved wood behind the dais. Nothing had changed. Wei Wuxian was still kneeling with messy posture. Wen Xu was still reclined in his extravagant seat. Lan Wangji was still pointedly ignoring him and the way his eyes traced over the new robes.
"No, this won't do," Wen Xu said decisively. A servant was summoned, given whispered instructions, and sent at a run.
The stillness returned.
The runner presented something at Wen Xu's side. Lan Wangji only recognized it when he ran the headband between his fingers, playing with the metal insignia.
Lan Wangji searched for calm. He had meant to discard it, to throw it away. It should mean nothing to him now.
And then Wen Xu stepped off the dais, walking behind Lan Wangji in a slow stroll.
Lan Wangji wondered if Wen Xu could see the raised hairs on the nape of his neck. He had been raised to chase after monsters, to fight and lead in spite of fear. He had driven himself to be above it. But this fear was a low, slinking thing, unease slithering past his defenses. He felt the faint pressure of the headband pressing on his forehead and gentle tugs as Wen Xu tied it neatly behind his head.
He wanted to run or punch Wen Xu, but he stood there and fought to keep his hands loose at his sides.
Finally, Wen Xu returned to the front. The company fell in behind and around Lan Wangji, the captain moving forward to bow to Wen Xu.
Lan Wangji figured it was meant to be a show for Wei Wuxian, with himself as centerpoint. Unarmed and dressed in white, he was in stark contrast to the soldiers in red and black surrounding him, like a lantern in the night. He finally, finally met Wei Wuxian’s eyes and tried to communicate some part of his acceptance. He was Wei Wuxian's punishment as Wei Wuxian was the seal to his captivity.
There could be no private words between them.
Only Wen Xu's patient smile as Wen Qing inserted her pins and Wei Wuxian slumped into the guards' hold. Lan Wangji caught the bare edges of Wen Xu’s avarice as he looked away.
Wen Xu stroked over Lan Wangji’s lapels and Lan Wangji found his favorite carving again.
“Ah, not quite ready,” Wen Xu said, beckoning to Wen Qing.
Wen Qing dropped Wei Wuxian’s wrist, bowing her head both in reassurance and at Wen Xu’s order. Wei Wuxian was still alive, though the guards were the only things keeping him up. It would be a strict timeline to get to Qinghe and back, if Wei Wuxian would be wasting away in the meantime.
Wen Qing always had a massive, steady presence; her strong spiritual energy furled about her like wings. Standing in front of him, though, she seemed tiny, all big, dark eyes in a pale face. She was trying so hard to be blank-faced, but her eyes gave her away.
At least the needle was thin and fast when she stabbed it into his neck. Even if he weren't holding himself so rigidly, he might not have had time to flinch.
The delicately worked copper head of the needle felt like a cold drop of sweat held to his throat. He swallowed and it didn't hurt. There was no pain, no change, no oncoming dark.
Wen Qing stepped back after a slow examining look, and Wen Xu took her place. He placed one hand low about Lan Wangji’s neck. Lan Wangji tried hard to slip back into meditation, to go away from his body. When he swallowed instinctively, the pin rode the motion; the tiny discomfort enough to trip him back into the moment.
"Sing for me, won't you, little bird?" Wen Xu said, mockingly cheerful. He hummed a bar of what Lan Wangji had meant for Wei Wuxian alone, as a poor comfort at the end of their days in the cave of the false Xuanwu.
Lan Wangji stayed silent.
It was harder to ignore Wen Xu when his hand slipped from Lan Wangji’s neck to pinch hard at the hinges of his jaw. Increasingly sharp pressure forced his cheek against his teeth, and then Wen Xu must have caught the trick of it. Wen Xu’s searching fingers finally hooked behind his teeth and his jaw popped open unwillingly.
"Second Young Master Lan, even our hounds know to bark on command. Speak!" Wen Xu commanded.
He didn’t know what he was going to say, because his mind got caught on the fact that he couldn’t.
He managed only weak, breathy sounds, nothing comprehensible even to his carefully attuned ear. His breaths were edging into panting, and he knew from Wen Xu's gleeful expression that Wen Xu had caught every bit of his widening, rolling eyes.
Breathing was first in cultivation. Breath was the foundation of the spiritual furnace needed to first cultivate a golden core. Lan Wangji knew how to breathe through a dead sprint, across miles of forest track and through hours of swordplay. He knew how to breathe through the first chill of the cold pond, even in the dead of winter.
He could breathe through this.
He straightened back to his normal stance, hooded his eyes, and let his mouth rest easy against Wen Xu's fingers. Wen Xu patted his cheek gently and let him go.
"Our spies will be watching," he said. "I'll have a full report on your performance when you return." His fingers played around the pin's tip. "Think of this as a reminder that your silence will pay for his safety."
He leaned just past Lan Wangji’s cheek, close enough to be kissing, though no part of them touched. Just the barest tip of his finger on the metal at Lan Wangji’s throat. "This will be here when you return. Or I will place it in him, and I will find out what takes to still make him scream."
Wen Xu's smile was pleasant and rotten as he turned and swept out. Wen Qing followed more slowly, more carefully controlled. Wei Wuxian was hauled out after them, the tops of his feet scraping across the ground.
Lan Wangji breathed through it.
At the captain’s gesture, he was handed a plain, serviceable sword. Possibly a training sword, it had little spiritual energy stored. It would work. He would make it work.
Together, they mounted their swords and departed.