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Chapter Text

Lan Wangji’s mind is buzzing with static as he stares down at the face of his soulmate.   Blood drips down his arm and slicks his hand, his desperate grip on Wei Wuxian’s arm weakening by the moment.  A voice somewhere in his head, lost among the noise, starts dutifully estimating the rate of blood loss.  He can feel an inconveniently jagged rock pressing into his ribs where he is braced along the top of the cliff, willing his body to be heavier to counter the weight of Wei Wuxian pulling him towards the edge.  A gust of wind blows his hair into his eyes and mouth, whisps sticking in tangles to his sweaty neck.

 Lan Wangji weakly attempts to thrust these observations aside in hopes of more productive thoughts appearing – he should do something surely, immediately, right this second he should be doing something, but what? He is not strong enough to pull Wei Wuxian to safety, not strong enough to let him go.  Their entire relationship, distilled into one perfectly encapsulating moment.  When he thinks of the two of them, he will think of them like this, trapped together in each other’s orbit, unable to break free and unable to come together to become something new and better and – action. His love is dangling from a cliff, this is not the time for maudlin reflections on the nature of love and fate, this is the time for analyzing the problem and coming up with a decisive course of action. 

But he is not Wei Ying, his mind produces no brilliant solutions, no clever strategies. All Lan Wangji can think, over and over is: I will remember this moment till the day I die.  This moment, with the blood running down his arm and the rock bruising his ribs and the wind blowing his hair in his face – this moment will define his life forever, and its happening now but he’ll relive it exactly like this, he’ll remember thinking about remembering it just like this –

Wei Ying slips a few precious inches, struggling in his grip.  His fingers are numb, and he can’t stop staring at Wei Ying’s face. It’s too thin, and covered in a sheen of sweat and dirt, Wei Ying’s mouth pinched and eyes blown wide in fear and this is the last time you’ll see his face you’ll remember this moment forever remember this moment forever REMEMBER THIS MOMENT FOREVER –

He hears the crunch of footsteps over his shoulder and knows someone has joined them.  Knows also, that this liminal tableau, he and his love staring at each other, just the two of them, has come to an end.  From the corner of his eye he sees purple robes and the tip of a familiar sword.  His brain kicks into gear. Jiang Wanyin could grab Wei Ying’s other arm, together they could pull him to safety, Lan Wangji could pull him onto his sword and fly him away – A sword cuts across his vision and through his frantic planning to lodge itself in the cliff face next to their grasping hands. 

“Go to Hell, Wei Wuxian!”

Lan Wangji can easily envision Jiang Wanyin’s face twisted with rage and disgust, it seemed to be his default state of existence.  He feels a familiar surge of bitter hatred and resentment for Wei Wuxian’s adopted brother stir in the base of his stomach, but he breathes out and lets it go quickly.  Jiang Wanyin’s selfishness and cowardice are hardly new, and Lan Wangji does not have time to dwell on them now.  He has a soulmate to save. 

There are two possible courses of action, he concludes.  The most obvious is to reach out with his other hand and secure his grip on Wei Ying’s arm, and attempt to pull him to safety hand-over-hand.  Of course, he could easily lose his grip, or be pulled from the cliff himself, but it is surely better to try than perpetuate the current unstable configuration.  His grip will only weaken the longer he delays.  The other option, fittingly enough, is daring and insane and truly worth of Wei Ying himself: Lan Wangji could deliberately fling them both off the cliff, hopefully proceeding to maneuver his sword underneath his own feet in order to arrest his fall, somehow managing to simultaneously secure his grip on (a potentially struggling) Wei Ying, and fly them both to safety.  A small but clear voice speaks from the depths of Lan Wangji’s soul: this plan sports a high risk of them both dying, but absolutely no risk that Wei Ying will die and leave Lan Wangji to survive alone.  In the end, there is no choice at all. 

Just as Lan Wangji is readying his grip on the hilt of his sword and tentatively planting his toes against the bare rock, he sees his soulmate’s face change.  Wei Ying’s eyes shift to focus intently on something over Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and Lan Wangji’s heart stutters to a stop and ice floods through his veins as he sees an expression of utter peace and resolve settle on Wei Ying’s face.

“Time to go,” Wei Ying whispers softly. 

His soulmate has made a decision, and he knows with the utter certainty of bitter experience it will be the decision to sacrifice himself.  Lan Wangji spares a moment for a deep breath and knows he must act now now NOW –  

But it is already too late.  With a desperate cry Wei Ying has wrenched his wrist free of Lan Wangji’s grasp and is falling, falling, so fast and so slow at the same time, and that damn rock is still digging into his ribs and now his whole sleeve is covered in blood, he’ll remember every stupid detail of this instant for the rest of his life, the rest of his life, the rest of his life WITHOUT WEI YING –

Lan Wangji distantly hears his own voice screaming Wei Ying’s name but he can feel nothing, can’t even breathe, watching frozen as the love of his life falls to his death.  As a dark smudge of blue and black comes hurtling from nowhere, barreling into the falling form of Wei Ying and abruptly altering his trajectory to carry him sideways. 

A bird, Lan Wangji realizes, stunned, he can see bright blue wings and black-clad figure clutching Wei Ying in his arms.  A giant bird has swooped out of nowhere are plucked Wei Ying out of the sky.  A giant bird being ridden by a person.  Lan Wangji shakes his head and blinks firmly, wondering if heartbreak has finally caused his mind to snap, providing this impossible vision of a miraculous, last minute save.  Why did my subconscious pick a giant bird, does it symbolize something?

But the sight remains unchanged, and Lan Wangji watches dumbfounded as the bird climbs higher and higher into the sky with laborious wing strokes, its rider stretched along its back and still holding Wei Ying firmly against his side.  Jiang Wanyin is repeating an endless litany somewhere behind him, “what the fuck what the fuck what the actual fuck –” and Lan Wangji continues to ignore him.   He realizes Wei Ying must have seen the bird begin its dive, must have jerked free from Lan Wangji’s grasp knowing there was something there to catch him.  Lan Wangji briefly wonders who and what and above all how …  before giving up, the question simply to baffling and inconceivable to contemplate at the moment.   

What matters is that Wei Ying is alive; Wei Ying has been saved. Lan Wangji ruthlessly quashes a wild surge of jealousy.  This is the way it is, the way it always is.  He is not the one to save Wei Ying, not the one Wei Ying trusts to save him, and now Wei Ying is leaving him behind to pursue his own path, as always, and Lan Wangji cannot follow while he is bound by duty to his sect, as always. 

Resolutely Lan Wangji forces his thoughts along familiar tracts worn deep by habit, away from worry about Wei Ying and instead towards concern for his sect.  He can hear fighting in the background again, now that his world is no longer narrowed to contain only himself and Wei Ying, and the cliff.  He flexes his arm to try and regain some feeling, steadies his breath, and turns to help his brother dispatch the remaining fierce corpses. 

Suddenly the air around him compresses and distorts and presses him hard into the ground, and when he is done bracing himself against the sudden WHUMPH of wind, he finds himself face to face with a wall of glittering blue feathers.  Lan Wangji is overcome with confusion for a moment, glancing upward to confirm that the bird currently carrying the love of his life is still in the sky.  Two of them.  There are two of them.  Steeling himself, Lan Wangji lets his eyes travel upwards, absentmindedly noting the sheer size of the feathers in front of him and the dark leather of what appears to be a harness looping around the wing joint, until he reaches the rider. 

The man appears to be young, tall but slim, his body hidden by a thick, expansive cloak.  His face is sharp and pale, currently wearing an expression of determination and urgency, with long dark hair pulled into a tight unadorned braid running from his crown to the middle of his back.  A heavy wooden staff tipped with a foot of wickedly sharp steel still sits easily in one hand.  Lan Wangji enjoys a moment of dark satisfaction when he realizes the blade is barring the path of Jiang Wanyin, preventing the other cultivator from approaching the strange man and stranger mount. 

Lan Wangji sees nothing familiar in the man, and concludes that wherever Wei Ying managed to dredge up giant, ridable birds from, he found the riders too.  The suspicion is confirmed when he hears the man speak.  The words are equal parts calm and urgent, but in no language Lan Wangji knows.  He feels a surge of irrational frustration as he realizes that mere minutes have passed since a literal miracle appeared from the sky to save him from a lifetime of grief, and here he is again and he still doesn’t know what to do. 

It appears the bird-rider shares his frustration.  The man lets of out brief huff, and then extends the hand not clasping a deadly weapon.  He makes a beckoning gesture and turns his head to jerk his chin up to the sky where the other bird is becoming smaller in the distance, before turning to face Lan Wangji once more and proffering his hand more urgently.  Despite the lack of words, the message is clear: He will be following the partner who carries Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji may come if he wishes. 

Memories of past partings flash before Lan Wangji’s eyes in quick succession: Wei Ying, weak and injured after striking the final blow of a bloody war, left to face suspicion and jealousy without him.  Wei Ying, furious and drenched from the rain, left to defend dozens of innocent prisoners without him.  Wei Ying, thin and cold and carrying a child, left to claw a living for his foundling clan from barren earth drenched in death, without him.  Each time, Lan Wangji had been held back from following his heart by the unbreakable chains of the rules. 

It is the way things are, the way things must always be. Wei Ying has his own path to walk, and Lan Wangji cannot follow, bound by duty to his sect.  Lan Wangji takes a long moment to gaze over at his family. At his virtuous, compassionate brother, who had smiled at him with gentle condescension as he explained why appeasing the Jins was more important than saving civilians’ lives.  At his strong, righteous uncle, who had frowned at him and sternly explained that obedience to the sect was more important than personal morality.  He thinks, calmly and carefully. Fuck. That. 

He grasps the rider’s hand firmly, braces the other against the bird’s side and allows himself to be pulled forcefully onto the beasts back.  A few hurried seconds pass, full of straps and ties and buckles, and then the bird is heaving underneath them, the thunderous sound of wingbeats drowning out the shouts and clangs of battle, and Lan Wangji watches Jiang Wanyin’s furious face grow smaller below him.  Looking over at the Lan contingent again, he distantly notes that his brother and uncle are too focused on the fight to notice what has transpired at the edge of the cliff.  Idly, he wonders what Jiang Wanyin will tell them.  He does not care. He turns his face away from the land dwindling below him, and towards the other bird in front of them. Towards his soul mate. 

Wei Ying, he thinks, I do not understand what you have gotten yourself into now. I do not understand why you have made the choices you have.  But I know that this time, I will be with you.  This time, we will stand together.  

Chapter Text

After the first few minutes of flight, Lan Wangji finds himself envying Wei Ying’s ability to faint dramatically after an immediate crisis has passed.  He is tired, cold – he suddenly understands why the man next to him is wearing such a heavy cloak – and bleeding, and so lost he can’t even put his questions into words.  Not that it matters, as the man next to him doesn’t even speak his language.  He has absolutely no idea what to do or what to think, or what is going to happen next.  He focuses on holding tightly to the leather straps in front of him, and wonders if he should try to meditate.  His mind is still whirling chaotically, so he settles for counting out his breaths in groups of four, slow and steady. 

An indeterminate amount of time passes this way, as Lan Wangji counts his breaths and watches the scenery below them change. 

He does not recognize the location when they finally land, but he does notice the first rider has selected a location that is easily defensible and difficult ambush.  He rolls his shoulders and stretches his back, and wonders if he will get some answers. 

His companion strides anxiously to the other bird, and Lan Wangji wonders briefly if the man is as concerned for the other rider as he himself is for Wei Ying.  He approaches more slowly, wondering with trepidation what he will find.  Will Wei Ying be angry he followed, or will he great him with a joke and a smirk and a teasing call of Lan Zhan! When he reaches the bird’s side he realizes he should have known better; Wei Ying has indeed passed out. 

Lan Wangji takes a moment to simple gaze at his soulmates face, and reaches out to gently wipe the blood away from Wei Ying’s nose and mouth with a sleeve.  He hears a soft noise at his elbow, and takes a deep breath before turning to face the man who saved Wei Ying’s life. 

The first thing he notices is that the mysterious bird-rider is, in fact, a woman.  She is only a little shorter than him, with her hair braided tightly in the same style as her partner, and is wrapped up in a similar enormous cloak.  Lan Wangji cannot see any weapons in her hands, but spots several lumps underneath the cloak that look suspiciously like hilts. 

“I am Wei Ziran. Wei Ying is my kin.  I thank you, for saving his life.”

The woman’s words are lightly accented, and Lan Wangji can tell she is making an effort to speak slowly and clearly.  He wonders where the two are from, how the woman came to speak their language while the man does not, how difficult their language would be to learn –

“Your kin?” Lan Wangji speaks without thinking as the woman  -  as Wei Ziran’s words sink in.  “Wei Ying has no blood kin.  Where have you been?”

“I understand you have questions.  I myself have many.  I would like to know why I found my brother facing down an army alone.  But at the moment I am rather more concerned with exactly where that army is, and whether, for example, it will soon be here. “

Lan Wangji worked his fists open and closed, and told himself to keep up.  He filed away the words “my brother” to examine later, and tried to understand what needed to be said first. 

“As Wei Ying is currently unconscious, he cannot tell me what needs to happen now.  Without additional information, my instinct is to find a hidden, defensible place in the mountains where we can make camp for the foreseeable future.”  She took a deep, fortifying breath began tapping a thumb absentmindedly against her sternum.  “I have no idea who you are, but I’ve decided to interpret you valiantly preventing Wei Ying from falling to his death as evidence that you are, in fact, his ally.”  Her voice has descended into dry sarcasm and her fingers are drumming faster against her chest.  In a rare moment of insight, Lan Wangji wonders if the woman is feeling as confused and overwhelmed as he is.  “So,” she continues, “is there anything pressing that absolutely needs to be taken care of before I hide my brother deep in a cave in the mountains and try to figure out what the hell is happening.”  Definitely a little overwhelmed, Lan Wangji thinks with a trace of bitter satisfaction.  If he is going to be forced to pull it together and fight down rising hysteria in the face of this frankly bonkers situation while Wei Ying enjoys peaceful unconsciousness, Lan Wangji thinks it only fair that he does not suffer alone. 

“Wei Ying has been protecting a small clan of approximately 50 farmers and craftsmen in the forested foothills called the Burial Mounds, about a day’s travel west of here.  The clans will assume Wei Ying has either died or fled back to his home. Either way they will surely go there next, and Wei Ying’s people will die.”  Lan Wangji thinks of A-Yuan, laughing as he chases a grass butterfly. He thinks of Wen Ning, shy and clumsy and gentle in contrast to Wen Qing, who is sharp and acerbic and bossy, and how together the two of them seem so much better at taking care of Wei Ying than the Jiangs ever were.  He wonders how the siblings are coping with Jin Jixuan’s death at Wen Ning’s hands, wonders what Wei Ying had to do to convince the two of them to let him travel to Nightless City to face the Sects alone.  He glances at the woman’s – at Wei Ziran’s – face, which has grown dark and stormy in reaction to his bald words.  He wonders if this self-proclaimed sibling will follow in the steps of the Jiangs, and offer salvation to Wei Ying only on the condition that he leave his loved ones behind to die. 

Wei Ziran takes a series of slow, deep breaths, and carefully straightens her hands in front of her where they cannot drum or pick or fidget.  Lan Wangji recognizes the self-calming rituals and wonders absently if this will be something they bond over.  They are both fighting for Wei Ying now, presumably they will be spending a great deal of time together, perhaps they will become friends.  Or perhaps she will claim the position of Wei Ying’s primary defender as hers alone, after all she has called him brother, claimed his family name.  He imagines her returning after hearing Wei Ying’s account of their relationship, her face cold and implacable as she tells him to get lost and never return, that after all his failures he does not deserve to stand by her brother’s side. 

He shoves the pointless speculation to the back of his brain. There is simply too much about the situation he does not understand, starting with the GIANT RIDABLE BIRDS.  Not to mention the other member of their party.  The man who flew him here is quietly checking over the birds and their harnesses, but Lan Wangji can tell he is keeping one eye on his companion and his hands free to grab a weapon at a moment’s notice. 

After a few seconds of quite breathing, Wei Ziran speaks again.  “Alright,” she says slowly, “thank you for telling me.  As far as I can tell, we have two options.  No, three.  Well, call it two and a half.”  She breaths out sharply, clenches and unclenches her fists in front of her, and Lan Wangji waits patiently as she fights visibly for calm. 

“First, we can evacuate the settlement and tell the residents to scatter. Assuming none of them are particularly recognizable, they should be safe enough, and I’m guessing your clans have better things to do than hunt down a handful of peasants.  If dispersion is not an option for some reason, we arrange a group retreat, and move the entire village deeper into the mountains.  Like I said, find a place that is hidden, and defensible.  Hope that the rabid armies lack the stamina to track us through the mountains. 

The other option, of course, is not to go anywhere, but instead to fortify the defenses and brace for attack, and hope we can weather it.  Now, I don’t know what kind of defenses or provisions this settlement has, or how easy it would be to evacuate, or how much your people know about levying a protracted siege or guerilla warfare. So. To retreat or hunker down, I’m afraid the decision will have to be yours. Please take a moment to think about it.”

With that she turns sharply to her companion, and begins speaking softly but urgently in their own language.  The man has a hand curled loosely around the top of her bicep, and she has switched to nervously tapping her thumb against his chest instead of her own.  Lan Wangji spares a moment to wonder how close they are, and a second moment to be deeply jealous of the obvious trust and respect that runs deep between them, before turning to contemplate the choice before him. 

He spends a long, indulgent moment imagining giant birds spiriting A-Yuan and his elderly aunties and uncles away to safety in the mountains, but he already knows it is impossible.  Two birds are not enough to carry 50 odd people, and on foot they would make it no more than a few miles before the Sects caught them.  He thinks more seriously about the dispersion option.  Only Wen Ning and Wen Qing are recognizable, surely with only the two of them the group would be small enough to slip away.  But the rest of the Wens … he is sure they wouldn’t be recognized or pursued, but so money or resources to start with, they would be reduced to begging on the streets of whatever town they moved to.  Not to mention, even though splitting up was surely practical, Lan Wangji had a feeling the group would rather die together in the Burial Mounds than separate to scratch out a meagre existence among strangers. 

There was surely only one option, and he hates it bitterly.  Hates the Wens just as little as well, even though he knows they are innocent, for forcing him to make this choice.  He wonders if this is how Wei Ying feels all the time, looking at the choices in front of him and knowing only one was the right thing to do, knowing it would mean standing in opposition to his own family and being hated by old friends, and making that choice anyway.   He can already see the look on poor sweet Lan Xichen’s face when he sees his brother standing against him across a battlefield.  With his heart breaking, Lan Wangji takes the first step onto his own dark, single plank bridge.

“We will have to brace for the attack, and hope the weather it.  Wei Ying’s people would be too hard to move.”

He watches Wei Ziran take a moment to process the unwelcome news.  She clenches her jaw and tightens her fingers clench angrily at the heavy cloth of her flying cloak.  She says a few terse words to her partner – sharing the bad news, Lan Wangji assumes, judging by the look of anxious frustration that passes over the man’s face.  He wonders briefly if the man will try to convince his partner to cut their losses, to grab the still insensate Wei Ying and fly far away and never look back.  But the man only shakes his head in despair, before turning to leap onto the back of his own bird.  He calls a few quick words to the woman, who nods and looks back and Lan Wangji.

“We should go. I hope you know the way.  Come on, help me manhandle Wei Ying.  He can ride with my husband, he’s clearly not in any shape to mind the language barrier. You can ride with me, we’ll trade answers on the way.  Good? Good.  God Wei Ying, what have you been doing?”

This last comment is mumbled under her breath as she starts unstrapping Wei Ying from her bird’s back, and Lan Wangji indulges in a brief eye roll before moving to help.  As Wei Ying is lowered into his arms (still so beautiful, even starving and bloody and unconscious), Lan Wangji thinks about the word the woman had used: Husband.  It’s stupid and petty of him, but he feels a great surge of relief.  It doesn’t matter that she has already made it clear that her interest is sisterly and not romantic, Lan Wangji knows he is jealous and possessive and he needs to be first, absolutely and unequivocally first in Wei Ying’s heart.  He also knows that, mystery long-lost sister or no, he is far from this goal.  But its alright, he tells himself as he holds Wei Ying in his arms and helps a man whose name he doesn’t even know strap him to the back of a giant ridable bird.  Its alright.  He has, at long last, chosen to stand by his soulmate’s side.  Wei Ying will trust him in time. 

Chapter Text

A few minutes later Lan Wangji is once again clutching tightly to a leather strap with his legs strapped tightly into a harness, secure between two massive wings several hundred meters above the ground and sitting next to a woman with a strange accent claiming to be his soulmate’s sister.  Wei Ying, what have you gotten me into?  The thought fills him with equal parts exasperation and fondness.  He wants to shake Wei Ying and berate him for making so many unconventional choices that led him to this position.  At the same time, he is forced to admit that this, right here, is part of why he loves Wei Ying: Who else could possible bring something as incredible and unheard of and new as giant ridable birds into his life? Wei Ying may bring disruption, but he also brings discovery. 

“So,” Wei Ziran begins, watching him intently, “it occurs to me that I am preparing to weather a siege based on the decision of a man whose name I do not know.” 

Lan Wangji feels his ears turn red, but decides that under the circumstances he can be forgiven the lapse of manners.  “This one is Lan Wangji.”    Gathering his resolve, Lan Wangji decides to seize the initiative.  As much as he hates it, his usual passive approach to human interaction will not produce the answers he needs. “You say Wei Ying is your brother. Where have you been? Why have you come here now?”

Wei Ziran looks away and bites her lip, and for a heart stopping moment Lan Wangji thinks she will refuse to answer, or reveal that this is all somehow an elaborate hoax – but then, with a look of deep reluctance on her face, she begins to speak. 

“Wei Ying and I are twins.  From the day we were born, we were always together.  My earliest memory is of our mother tattooing blood-based communication sigils on each of us, so that we would always know when the other needed us, and always be able to find one another.”

Lan Wangji finds himself torn between horror at the idea of tattooing an array onto a toddler’s skin, envy at the thought of how convenient such a connection would have been at times with his own brother, and a hot, fluttery feeling he refuses to name as he wonders where on Wei Ying’s body this tattoo is, and if he’ll ever get to see it. 

“Our parents died when we were small.  It actually took us quite some time to reach that conclusion.  Our mother taught us how to draw the sigil from our tattoos on the ground, with our blood, in order to locate or call more distant blood relatives. We drew that damn pattern over and over and our parents never came.  In any case we survived on our own well enough, for a time, but the older we grew the harder it got.” 

Wei Ziran has a distant look in her eyes as she recalls the past, and Lan Wangji is grateful that his natural predilection for quiet and stillness means that he will not disrupt her reminiscence. 

“Objectively, you’d think it’d be the opposite, that life on the streets would only get easier as kids grow up, but we kept needing more and more food, and we grew too big for the puppy-dog eyes to work.  Men started making oblique comments about other ways for me to make money.  In desperation, we decided to try the kin-summoning sigil again.  We poured blood and power into it and hoped and prayed and by some miracle it worked.  It worked even better than we dared hope, and suddenly we had to make a choice.

The first to come was a half-brother of our mother.  Her people – my people – are nomads, and he had been passing through as part of a merchant caravan.  He recognized our tattoos and gave us some food and clothing, and offered to take us with him, across the mountains and back to his clan.  Told us to meet the caravan at the edge of town if we wished to go.  The next day, someone else came.  Our father’s cousin, who led one of the nearby clans.  This one didn’t give us a choice.  I suppose we were only nine, and I gather children gain independence much more slowly among your people.  In any case, he snatched us right up and stashed us in an inn for the night, telling us about the new home we’d see in the morning.

“We spent a long time talking that night, Wei Ying and I.  We had always faced the world together, completely in sync, and we thought we’d be two halves of a whole for the rest of our lives.  But that night, we found between us an irreconcilable difference.  Wei Ying didn’t want to leave his home, didn’t want to leave the region our parents had chosen to make their home.  He wanted the permanence, stability, and familiarity our father’s people could offer, and he wanted the big family with siblings and parents and cousins.  I … I did not. Our parents were dead, I did not want new ones.  I chafed at the way this man already made decisions for us, and I was wary of the differences in the way he treated the two of us.  He mentioned a sword and a bow and cultivation for my brother, mentioned painting and nice clothes for me.  I did not like it.  I did not want to be confined.  And so, we parted.”

Lan Wangji wonders how much grief the simple statement is hiding.  A great deal, he’s willing to bet.  Wei Ziran’s face looks hard as stone as she stares into the middle distance.    “Nine years old and one night talking and we made a decision that changed our lives.  I snuck out the window and met my uncle and traveled far away.  Wei Ying convinced his new father that he didn’t have a sister after all, that I’d just been some unfortunate peasant playing a game, and settled into his new home.  We lived our lives, and grew up.”

Wei Ziran is still not looking at Lan Wangji’s face, giving him space to assemble a reply.  “I have many questions,” he says slowly, “but I understand that time is of the essence.  Besides,” he adds softly, “we have still just met, even if we are already making battle plans together.  It is only proper that personal interrogations be left to perhaps the second day of our acquaintance.” 

To his secret satisfaction his gentle declaration is met with a brief laugh, only slightly strangled by emotion.  It is far from the ebullient and effervescent laughter of Wei Ying, but Lan Wangji has never made anyone else laugh in his life. He wonders what it is about Weis that breaks down his icy walls. 

“Just one question is important,” he continues. “Why did you return for Wei Ying now?”

Wei Ziran smiles at him sadly and rubs her forearm absently.  “Our tattoos still connect us, even across time and incredible distance.  We were able to talk a few times, growing up, and we always knew when the other was facing mortal peril.” He smiles shifts from melancholy to bitter.  “It was many times for us both. We’ve lived hard lives.  I wanted more than once to go back for him, and I know he’s struggled with the urge to come to my rescue as well.  But we both had … lives.  Families to support and clans to defend and wars to win and vengeance to exact.  Leaving everything behind was never an option for either of us.  Until now.  I’ve won my war, and ensured that those who survived are safe.  I’ve killed the man who betrayed me and married the man who stood by me.  In the unprecedented absence of a crisis, I decided to help my brother.  Arriving at the exact right moment to catch him as he fell off a cliff was sheer luck.  If not for you I’d have flown a week straight across plains and deserts and mountains only to arrive just in time to watch him die.”

“I … see.”  Lan Wangji find the tale rather fantastical – Wei Ying has a secret sister he’s been keeping in touch with and never mentioned? 15 years apart and she arrives at the precise second needed to save his life? – but decides not to question.  It’s a little late to decide he doesn’t trust this woman now, and in any case how they all got here is far less important than what they will do now. 

“What about you?” Wei Ziran asks. 

“Hmm?” Lan Wangji is unsure how to respond to such a vague question.

“I mean … “ she trails off, raking a hand abruptly over her hair.   “God, I just … I don’t know anything about what is going on here, and there is so much I need to know, now, I don’t even know what questions to start with.  I feel like I’ve started playing a game where I can’t see the board, don’t know who the other players are or what the pieces look like or how they move or what any of the rules are and the stakes are my family’s lives!”  She’s pulling on the tail of her braid sharply now, wrapping it around her knuckles like a rope.  “Just … just summarize the events leading up to the battle.  Why is he fighting an army? How did you come to be at his side?”

I see we’re starting with the easy questions then, Lan Wangji thinks dryly.  He also realizes that he’s going to have to admit that, while he did safe Wei Ying’s life, they came to the battle as enemies.  They’d fought.  Wei Ying probably still thinks they are enemies.  He briefly considers lying, telling Wei Ziran that he’d sided with Wei Ying back at Qionqi pass as he so often wished he had.  But the rules are still too deeply ingrained to allow him to lie, and in any case it would merely provide a short term reprieve at the price of trust in the long run; after all Wei Ying will wake eventually.  He grips Bichen’s hilt tightly and gathers his resolve.  He is going to have to do a lot of talking. 

“The story is long, and complicated, and involves many people.  There are some aspects I do not know, and I do not know what details of Wei Ying’s life you may be familiar with.  We will have to have a longer conversation when Wei Ying is able to contribute.  I shall endeavor to present the most important facts for now.” 

He smooths his hands over the sleek feathers in front of him, and is relieved to see Wei Ziran nodding seriously.  He feels guilty about it, but a small voice in the back of his mind tells him that it is perhaps not inconvenient that he and Wei Ziran are able to hold this initial strategy session and exchange essential information without Wei Ying.  He recognizes many of his own coping mechanisms in the woman, including the tendency to fall back on formality and rigidly imposed calm in the face of chaos and overwhelming emotion.  He loves Wei Ying dearly, but is not sure his propensity for yelling and rash action would be helpful at the moment. He marshals his thoughts, wets his lips, and begins. 

“As you mentioned, Wei Ying was adopted by the Jiang family when he was nine.  His position in the family was … unstable, but he loved his siblings dearly.   I met him we were 18 and he came with his siblings to study with other students under the tutelage of my sect, the Lans.  He stayed for six months, and in that time we grew acquainted.  He was – it is difficult to explain.  And perhaps not a priority.  Suffice to say he was joyful and friendly, and I found his enthusiasm overwhelming, and responded with disdain.  He would probably say I could not stand him, but in truth I found him fascinating, though I hid it well.  When we were 19, war broke out.  The Wen sect attempted to seize power and was resisted.  In the early days of the war, Wei Ying went missing. He was gone for three months.  When he returned, he was different.  He had started using demonic cultivation, and refused to wield his sword.  He alienated himself from his friends and family, was continually rude and disrespectful.  He seemed consumed with rage.  I offered many times to cleanse his spirit, but he refused my help.  Cultivating the demonic path … in any other circumstances he would have been exiled, or killed.  But the Wen sect was using demonic cultivation as well, and seemed unstoppable.  Even outnumbered four to one, they defeated us easily.  Only Wei Ying possessed the power to defeat them.  And so, his impudence and heretical powers were tolerated, and celebrated as he brought victory after victory, but behind his back the fear and resentment grew.” 

He had been tracing the smooth feathers in front of him with his fingers while speaking, but he spared a glance at his companion’s face to see if he was understood.  Wei Ziran was staring at her hands, fingers twisting together restlessly, anger and resignation warring for supremacy on her face. Her shoulders were stiff and tense, and Lan Wangji wondered if she could relate to his words personally.  Tucking the question away, he resumed his recitation.

“When we were 21 the war was won, at great cost to Wei Ying, and we all went home.  Wei Ying struggled.  We all hoped he would renounce the demonic path and return to proper cultivation again, but he did not.  I was deeply hurt by his self-destructive choices, and angry.  About six months after the war ended, when we were 22, Wei Ying encountered a member of the Wen clan who had helped him.  A woman named Wen Qing.  He learned that her brother, Wen Ning, and many other Wen civilians were being held in labor camps. They were – they had been essentially enslaved, despite their status as non-combatants. It was an injustice he could not stand. He freed the prisoners and took them to the burial mounds, a land saturated in resentful energy that only Wei Ying can control.  In the process, several cultivators from the Jin sect were killed.  From that point, Wei Ying and his Wens officially became an enemy of the sects, although until now they have been too afraid to engage in direct confrontation. The situation persisted for two years.  A few days ago, Wei Ying was traveling away from his home and was ambushed by cultivators from the Jin sect.  He survived the attack, killing a few hundred more soldiers in the process, including the Jin heir.  Faced with this provocation, the other great sects – Nie, Lan, and Jiang, were convinced to join the Jin in an attack on the Burial mounds to eliminate the threat of the Yiling Patriarch – the title Wei Ying goes by.  They were mustering forces at Nightless city when Wei Ying arrived.  I am not sure how he knew … perhaps he wished to ensure the inevitable battle took place where it could not hurt his people.  Regardless, that is how Wei Ying came to be fighting an entire army by himself.”

They listened to the wind whistling past them for a few minutes before Wei Ziran sighs.  “I see.  I have,” she states, “so many questions.”    Her words mirror his own from a few minutes ago, and he thinks they understand each other.  He is also forced to admit that she has even more right to feel overwhelmed than he does.  He is deeply curious about Wei Ziran’s past and her relationship with Wei Ying, but at least he understands what is happening.  There is just so much the woman doesn’t know.  He has been talking for several minutes straight (a truly impressive feat, brother would be so proud), and yet the amount of pertinent information he omitted is frankly staggering.  Trying to fit the events of the past few years into words made him realize just how personal the whole thing was, how incomplete the story was without the messy interpersonal dynamics that drove the sect leaders and their heirs. 

The realization prompts a sharp sting of disappointment in his peers.  They are leaders and powerful warriors, and their decisions affect the lives of thousands.  It shouldn’t matter that Jiang Wanyin has a chip on his shoulder due to Wei Ying’s superior cultivation, or that Jin Jixuan insulted Wei Ying’s sister when they were teens, or that Lan Xichen fears Wei Ying will hurt his brother’s feelings.  It certainly shouldn’t matter that Lan Xichen, Jin Guanyao and Nie Mingjue are involved in some sort of complicated power play that will either end in murder or a threesome.  Probably both. 

It does matter though. 

Wei Ziran’s voice breaks through his reverie.  “And how exactly do you come in?”  She fixes him with an intense stare, eyes narrowed critically.  “From what you’ve said, your own clan, the Lans, agreed to wage war on Wei Ying, and not even his own family stood up for him.  Who are you to one another?”

Lan Wangji feels like he’s been clubbed in the head.  In the five years since Wei Ying captured his attention, people have noticed.  His brother smiles knowingly and drops delicate hints and leaves inviting pauses after leading comments.  His uncle issues veiled warnings and pointedly quotes the rules.  Jiang Wanyin has indulged in deathly glares and scathing comments, and even Nie Huisang has dropped several tantalizingly open-ended comments on Wei Ying’s beauty.  But no one, no one, has ever simply asked him point-blank what was in his heart. 

Looking at the woman next to him, her shoulders stiff and her spine rigid, her face blank and calm, Lan Wangji feels his alarm give way to a sense of possibility.  No one has ever simply asked him, calmly and politely, about his feelings, and given him the space to answer without smirking or teasing or scowling or otherwise thrusting their feelings all over him.  This is how personal matters should be discussed, he thinks, calmly and with carefully selected words and no outward display of emotions. Absolute control.   He is aware this opinion might make him a sociopath, and he doesn’t care.  In the past two hours he has made decisions that will change his life forever.  With a feeling of reckless abandon, Lan Wangji prepares to discuss his feelings.

“Wei Ying is loud and disruptive and contrary to everything I have been taught to value, but despite that – or perhaps because of it – I love him deeply. Before today, I have hidden these feelings from the world and Wei Ying himself, out of a sense of duty.  If you asked Wei Ying – when you ask him – he will say I disapprove of him.  I do not know how to make him see that I am worried for him, worried that the choices he is making will destroy him. 

When I arrived at the battle today, … it was with the intention of stopping Wei Ying.  We fought.  Seeing him so angry, confronting the entire cultivation world … I just wanted him to stop.  I was so sure that if he could just be calm, everything would be alright.  But then, he fell off that cliff. He was about to die.  And I realized that being dutiful, preserving my reputation, adhering to orthodoxy, none of it was worth losing him.  So now I am here.  I’ll stand by his side, even against my own sect, as long as he’ll have me.”

His heart is rubbed raw and split wide open with the force of his confession, but he feels clean.  It is time, he knows, and long past time, for him to be honest about his feelings. Honest about his desires.  To live life without regrets, like he promised Wei Ying long ago. 

Wei Ziran is respectfully not looing at his face, giving him space to compose himself.  His first instinct was right, he thinks, they will definitely be friends.  At least, they will be if she doesn’t decide to pitch him off the side of the bird this very second for having allowed her the false impression that he is her brother’s trusted partner and ally.  He wonders is she knows he can fly on his own. 

A minute ticks by painfully slowly, as Lan Wangji waits for his doom.  Finally, Wei Ziran delivers her verdict.  “Well I have to admit I was not expecting that.  And frankly it is damn inconvenient.  Sieges are difficult enough without two angsty drama queens trying to hash out your feelings in the middle of it.  Or worse, given that this is the current state of affairs after what, five years, you two angsty drama queens glaring and moping and figuring nothing out at all. Oh my god what have I walked into the middle of.”

She grimaces and fixes him with another hard look.  “I have no idea how Wei Ying will feel about you being here,” she says, “and honestly that’s your problem.  What I need to know is that this snap decision of yours to abandon your family and your home and, according to you, all sense of propriety and ‘orthodoxy’, is not something you are going to wake up tomorrow and regret.  No matter what my brother feels about you.  Can you promise me that, even if he doesn’t return your feelings and won’t forgive you for – for whatever – you’re not going to turn around and support his enemies. Even if his enemies are your family.”

Lan Wangji surprises himself by huffing out a tiny laugh.  The idea of changing his mind now would be like trying to turn back the tides.  “I am committed to this path,” he says simply. 

“Alright then,” Wei Ziran nods.  “Alright.”

Lan Wangji watches the scenery glide by beneath them for a few minutes.  There’s still a mountain’s worth of things to talk about.  A dozen facts he doesn’t know about the woman brooding next to him.  At least two dozen details about events leading to today and the people involved in them that he should tell her.  But he feels a bone deep weariness stealing through his limbs, and thinks it can wait.  The immediately urgent topics have been covered.  They have few hours before they reach the burial mounds.  Lan Wangji gazes absently at the ground, and feels his eyes drift shut.