Work Text:
The smell of the strong summer air is what Lan Sizhui will never be able to forget. The time of night was lost, as were the words of the song he heard echo in his head for the first time. His heart’s own rhythm beat louder than the melody. A song with missing pieces, carried by a wet voice.
And the air was warm.
Lan Sizhui, reaching the crescent for the six year of his life, tasted the humid air in his open gasp when he bolted up from his sleep. He could hear a melody, wafting in and out of his mind as if sprouting to life for the first time. As if it was the voice’s first time singing at all, rather than its first successful connection.
In the dark of his room Lan Sizhui shuffled out of his coverings, gently tapping his hands around to guide him to the table where his forehead ribbon was neatly folded after only four attempts that night. The skill of laying the silk was gradually becoming familiar for his fingers. He let a breath cycle through his lungs, committing the heat of the air to memory that unknowingly would find him years later.
Lan Sizhui held his tongue, recounting the proper steps for tying the fabric in the quiet night, afraid any sound he made would disturb the song that continued to grow. He had only learned small details about soulmates connections through song. The classes he followed at Hanguag-Jun's request did not give any guidance about the phenomenon. The question for the topic was brought up by a student more self assured in their voice and place in the sect on an early day of their classes. It took one to ask, and the rest to lean in with excitement for the answer.
Disappointment pressed heavily to each pair of shoulders when Shifu declared the subject would not be covered for a few years. Lan Sizhui remembered the exact number of nods that were given before they shared the little information he knew in that moment. He wrote down everything he was told on what spare paper he had, taking it back to his room and under his bed as if the information would be taken away at any time.
Reaching between his bedding and the wooden frame, he found the exact hidden away paper, smudged with ink when his writing was still uncoordinated. Lan Sizhui found a place on his floor, unfolding the paper to study the copied words like he hadn’t done it countless times before. His eyes strained to read in the dark of his room, while the context had been practically memorized.
The song picked up once more in his head, starting from the beginning with more confidence than it began with. A soulmate’s singing or hums was commonly heard in adolescents as each would have grown enough to have the connection be made naturally. Lan Sizhui broke into a giddy smile at the thought. His smile was not for no reason as the rules declared against. His smile was for the thought of how strong his soulmate must be to reach out.
Lan Sizhui had a soulmate. One who was up past a respectable bedtime. One who’s voice shook as they sang. Who’s song spoke about things he was unfamiliar with.
As he read further down the page, the melody hit a full stop. The song had not reached its end, not even a drift in volume. Lan Sizhui pondered in the dark of his room at the unknown hour, if his soulmate was reminded about making excessive noise and had to stop. The idea twisted in his stomach, reminding himself of the strict rules he promised to uphold. He shouldn’t sing his own melody in the quiet of his room, the walls never prevented much sound from escaping, but his heart pulled to give his own introduction.
He wanted his soulmate to know he was there too.
Fixing his posture and his forehead ribbon, Lan Sizhui cleared his throat. He didn’t know if his soulmate could see him, it was something he never thought to ask. He wasn’t able to make out anyone in the shadows that clung to the walls to show what his soulmate might look like, but he wanted to make sure he was presentable if they could see him.
As softly as he could, Lan Sizhui answered back with his own song. A melody that had calmed him when he came to the strange place now his home, with no memories of what his life was before. A song Hanguang-Jun once hummed for him when they both couldn’t sleep. He had found words for the song after a class one day, from a poem given a melody behind it.
Higher notes of the song cut off as he sang, his throat not allowing his noise to climb any louder than it was. He hoped his soulmate could hear him, and know how he was excited to one day meet them. He wanted his song to convey every part of his promise. The promise that they would find each other, and that they would be happy together just like all the stories he heard about Lan An finding his soulmate. Lan Sizhui didn’t know what he would give up like in the stories, or what he would learn for his soulmate, but he wanted them to know that he would do it all.
They would never be alone if they had each other.
It was a promise Lan Sizhui held with him as time carried on. He branded it deep into his will when he heard his soulmate again the next night. The unsteady voice rising up again to sway in his mind. Shaky words with broken tones. Lan Sizhui understood that second night when his heart allowed him to hear it more clearly. His soulmate was crying.
Lan Sizhui was out of bed, fixing his robes in his rush to the other side of his room. His fingers slid down the bound spines of the few books he had, landing on one with a familiar brittle rope barely keeping it together. His soulmate echoed a song about warm waters and stars. A song to make him happy, or a song that was normally sung by someone who did make him happy.
Finding himself in a heap of robes in front of his stack of books, Lan Sizhui read down the lines of words. He wanted to help his soulmate, to make them smile. He was needed, and he would make sure his soulmate knew he was there with them.
The song in his head grew quiet when he started singing. Lan Sizhui had only heard some of the songs a few times before, but wanted to give as much as he could. If songs about meadows, the grace of a waterfall, old trees, any part that would make his soulmate at ease, he would sing it. Lan Sizhui went through every page he could, feeling his heart swell at the thought of his soulmate listening.
He knew what it was like to cry alone at night. The strange sounds in the dark, the fear of shadowy corners, and the fear of battling it alone. In his singing, he wanted his soulmate to know that would never happen again. They were connected now, and Lan Sizhui would always be there with them. He would sing them to sleep if they needed, or if they just needed to hear that someone else was there.
Lan Sizhui didn’t stop as he crawled back into bed. He had sung his voice dry, and kept going. Even if his soulmate had fallen asleep, he was with them still. After lifting the covers up to his chin, he turned his wrists, letting his hands slot together. He brushed his thumbs along the back of his hands like he had seen before and closed his eyes. A hope his soulmate could feel the warmth of his hands, or the wish to hold theirs. He hoped they could feel his love.
There was no need to know what his soulmate looked like. If they were destined to be, Lan Sizhui loved them. Through song, he would make sure that his soulmate knew this.
Nights were common for his soulmate to reach out. Soft songs would start, and Lan Sizhui would join. When he picked up the words and tune of the same songs his soulmate sang, he would let his voice ripple through. His soulmate would start, and he would carry the torch after the first note. The thought of his soulmate enjoying his singing was encouragement for Lan Sizhui to grow his repertoire.
The first time the pull of a song met him during the day, Lan Sizhui braved a request to accompany Shifu to the locked library. He needed to give his soulmate more songs and he knew countless pages were bound within the books. Lan Sizhui’s foot angled to the side, feeling his stomach twist from Shifu’s smile. He didn’t lie when he said he wanted to learn more music, he just didn’t say why.
Through the rarity to hear his soulmate at his age, Lan Sizhui knew to carry the secret. He worried for the reactions he’d receive and if he’d even be believed. The rumours he wasn’t meant to hear that spoke ill of Hanguag-Jun’s soulmate worried him. The thought hung heavy with him as he used his self volunteered time of organizing books to find more musical scores. Lan Sizhui didn’t want to imagine his soulmate crying more than they already did, from sharp rumours they couldn’t control. He would protect them.
When he sat among piles of borrowed books, Lan Sizhui knew he needed more than just pages. He needed to understand every note. He had to give every spark stored in the music as he could. Every feeling he was able to express to his soulmate, he wanted to give it.
It was the sun that Lan Sizhui remembers on the day he asked Hanguan-Jun about learning the guqin. A bamboo scroll fell from his arms, rolling further away from his feet and into the reaching rays of the room. It had been a year since he’d studied outside of classes for his soulmate, learning any songs he could find. Self taught skills were coming to a standstill, and more music he uncovered wasn’t originally written for a voice.
The eyes he received by the question studied him more than the scroll picked up from the floor. Lan Sizhui hoped Hanguan-jun wouldn’t see through his reason for wanting to learn the instrument. If he wasn’t asked, he wouldn’t need to try to lie. He hated the guilt from giving a lie, no matter how small it seemed.
When the eyes waited, he feared he had been found out and more than what he wanted to say would come out. The breath he took in when he received a nod was the crispest air he thought possible. He was given a day and place, and he would begin to learn, basics up.
Lan Sizhui wished he could tell his soulmate the good news, but knew he would have more to tell him once he had more to sing. He spent the rest of the night stretching his fingers and wrists, excitement bubbling up and expressed through light hums.
Humming was growing as regularly as his nightly lullabies. For the stern looks and words he received about excessive and unneeded noise, he wondered how any Lan ever connected with their soulmate. So much music and instruments and yet it was hidden away for only certain places and certain times. If everyone around him preferred to listen to their soulmates than answer back, it wouldn’t be the same for Lan Sizhui. He had so much to share with his soulmate.
Writing out the rules as punishment for humming during class was something he could bare with a smile. If his soulmate reached out, he wanted to answer. No matter where he was, or what he was doing, he would answer. He was still there. A call and answer was sometimes all it was, like his soulmate wanted to remember that they did have him even when alone. So Lan Sizhui sang, and hummed whenever he was needed.
Five years is what he had for his oblivious bliss. Five years of songs he gladly turned his voice hoarse for. Right at the time his classmates began to proclaim the songs they’ve heard, his songs had fallen silent.
Living arrangements changed and Lan Sizhui found himself sharing a room with disciples his own age just connecting with their soulmates for the first time. The wide grins, the losing attempts at remaining reserved, he watched so many find what he had years ago. Descriptions of the voices they heard were spun in their own poetry.
Lan Sizhui made sure to nod and smile at each one. His face had no deception for others, but for himself. When he’d laugh in shows of support, worries burrowed deeper. His soulmate had never gone more than a few days without making contact. A quick string of notes, hushed melodies, a speckling of hums coming in and out like the tide, Lan Sizhui would always feel their presence. Finding only echoes of himself inside his head, left him with new fears he never wanted to think of.
His fellow disciples in their comradery would pat his shoulder and give different pieces of wisdom how he’d hear his soulmate one day. Lan Sizhui would try to look hopeful and hold in the truth for his found and now lost voice. He would rather be seen as to have late blooms in his heart, than the murky distress in his mind. His soulmate had to still be alive.
Listing a myriad of excuses for the silence turned into a skill he tuned as well as his guqin. Difference scenarios for places and times, even people, who would affect his soulmate’s ability to sing. If they were also a Lan and sworn to more peace, or found a life in meditation. The defenses by his imagination became comforts. More preferable tales than what still loomed.
No matter the exact reason, Lan Sizhui bore it for both of them. The sound of other’s singing with joy in their calls was drowned out when Lan Sizhui would stir up the lullabies his soulmate used to sing. His eyes would close, and he’d keep his voice low, singing until exhaustion found him. Duties in the day were carried out with deep hums buzzing his chest, and his practicing picked up.
The skin at his fingertips had grown tougher the more he plucked at his strings. He hoped his soulmate when they’d meet wouldn’t mind. He quickly sank into the thought of imaging the softness of their skin as they held hands for the first time. Lan Sizhui adopted the idea as his fingers went through the motion of the same song for the umpteenth time. A practice that he wouldn’t admit to himself kept his mind cluttered. Every repetition bounced in his head long after his practice. When a melody was captured in his mind, he could almost imagine his soulmate’s voice joining with the notes. The perfect vision of his soulmate returning the call, returning to him to remind him that he wasn’t alone. That his soulmate was still with him.
The shape of the dark around him on his first nighthunt remained clear with him years later. When he had lost the group was as unknown as where he was among the dense forest. He gripped the sheath of his sword tighter, laying it flat across his chest like the metal would protect him. The drag of his feet in the wet earth was lifting a weight double the mass of a mountain. His muscles hurt from the tension in his body, and the temptation to shut his eyes to will it all away increased.
Lan Sizhui jumped at the cracks in his own voice when he reached for comfort. The lullabies shook with him as he pushed forward. His sword was pulled in tighter, and he wished someone would save him from the fears snapping at his feet in the dark. If Hanguang-Jun would lead the group back to find him, or if another disciple trailing behind would look for him. Lan Sizhui sung through the tears dampening his cheeks, pleading that someone would hear him. The perpetual night that haunted him, the silence he tricked his mind into believing it wasn’t so deafening, was now reflected around him. He prepared to be consumed by the surrounding dark.
And then a line of light found him.
It mirrored the warmth of the sun when he heard the melody. Steady and strong, easing him with every sway to loosen the tension in his body. Lan Sizhui felt his breath return, tears staining his skin now for a new reason. His soulmate was alive. They were with him.
His arms wrapped around his chest and his back hit a tree. Lan Sizhui gave in to gravity as adrenaline left him. The world paused around him, just so the soothing hums could trickle into his own chest. All attention was on the song in his head. His soulmate came for him, taking the role of carrying calm for both of them. Lan Sizhui hoped his soulmate felt every bit of love he had for them when he blended his voice with theirs.
Lan Sizhui vowed even before he was found by the group that night to give more for his soulmate. He was revived by the confirmation of life, by the very inhale from his soulmate between the buzz at their lips. The enthusiasm from his fellow junior disciples failed to compare to the reverberation that elated him. Though sparse compared to when they first connected, his soulmate began to reach out again, snuffing out the years of quiet.
The same excitement led his fingers from guqin to brush. Lan Sizhui no longer felt the same satisfaction by the music he found in the library. He needed to share more than what was already composed for him. Pages only skimmed general emotions. The depths weren’t personal, it wasn’t the songs his own heart wanted to share.
Comparing himself to a melodist felt inappropriate even as he experimented in the exact definition. Starting with putting music to his favourite poems seemed the perfect place to begin. They weren’t part of his own words, but blocks he could build off of before diving into his own. His fingers would strum with exploratory sounds, finding a waiting brush to write down any pleasing progress.
His first finished piece roused his soulmate quickly, repeating it back with each verse. Lan Sizhui’s heart soared at the thought of his soulmate knowing his favourite poems and sharing the same fondness. It was all the encouragement he needed to form more. Lan Sizhui had heard love made a person act out of their ordinary, and never felt the truth more when nights turned sleepless to work for his faceless muse.
He surprised even himself when the night at Mo Manor didn’t dissuade his work. Strings of events were set into motion, digging up truths he hadn’t known were buried, and yet he kept writing. The people that came into his life as swift as the first winter breeze came along with the travels to new destinations. Regardless of where he found a bed, or the questions he left unanswered from Lan Jingyi, the nightly lullabies fell from his lips.
The belief that the changes rippling through the cultivation world which hit him also found his soulmate, built a strange nest in his stomach. Lan Sizhui felt his soulmate calling nightly, waking to soft humming in the middle of the night when he thought he had already lulled the other to sleep. Without opening his eyes he would respond, hoping his soulmate wasn’t caught in the middle as he was. If the bass in his chest and air from the top of his head could ease his soulmate, he would give it. If he could hear words answered back rather than just the dim hums that trailed away the moment he started, then he could believe his soulmate was safe.
When Lan Sizhui’s view on his own life had turned, a picture once clouded by rain becoming clearer, he couldn’t help but cling to stable comforts. The smile he received from the Ghost General, Wen-Shushu, the night he found a smudge of ink on his face during their travels, was an expression still so vivid in his mind. The secrets of his ongoing song writing may have been exposed that day, but to only support and an offered ear to listen to the songs or his rattling thoughts.
Describing what he knew of his soulmate to someone outside of his own head was more difficult to find words for than his newly genuine songs. The recent changes of their voice, their preference to hum sparse notes and have Lan Sizhui take over, and the shake from their throat he could feel when they covered their weeping. The fulfillment he once felt by the simple sharing of songs, evolving to his need to compose new melodies, and now facing his want that could no longer be met by soft calls alone. He needed to find his soulmate. He had to meet the warmth that huddled in his chest.
Confirming the murmurs how names could not translate to a soulmate was tested out by Lan Sizhui as early as his first year of harmonizing with his soulmate. Fate had linked them, but was never shy with its challenges. Letting songs with descriptions of Gusu flow into his lyric creation became the next best thing. He could paint the perfect picture of the cold waters, mountains piercing past the clouds, and maybe his soulmate would know. Maybe they would travel to find him, or become a guest disciple for training. His soulmate had found him before, in their youth, in the dark forest, they could do it again.
More years trickled by, more adjustments to life were stitched in, and his songs piled. Lan Sizhui reflected on his idea of binding his songs to a book when his soulmate reached out with their earliest song. The sharp jump of each change of notes with their hums was all he needed to hear to know his soulmate was stressed. He loved being the calm waters his soulmate needed when they called.
Slotting one of the many books in his arms into its proper spot brought his return as he flew into the song. A habit he’d done countless times before. Such noise in the library would warrant a punishment, only if there were ears other than his to catch it. The slide of the door did stall his second verse, but not long at all when the face of Lan Jingyi poked inside. A safe and familiar audience without judgement.
Half of the books cradled in the nook of Lan Sizhui’s arm were lifted with an exasperated huff from the childhood friend. It took only the slope of a smile for Lan Jingyi to start releasing his reason for the abrupt shift of his mood.
“The young mistress is causing headaches for the elders which is causing me a headache.” The rough slide of a book to the wooden shelf exemplified his own frustrations. “I don’t know why he keeps pressing them for an audience, but they’re not bending.”
His arms were in the air, catching the afternoon sun streaming in. “Maybe I should feel honoured that he thinks I can convince them even if it’s honestly not possible.” Lan Jingyi’s fingers pointed out, thumb tight to the strung spine of a well loved book. “And does that guy have a soulmate with bad timing! Mid conversation he just tells me to shut up because they’re making noise! First off, rude,” His fingers begin to curl in with each point for his list. “Second off, can’t he just answer them later? I bet his soulmate is just as demanding as he is.” A buzz of the boisterous man’s lips released more of his built up energy.
Lan Sizhui fell into a gentle hum of his melody, taking a brief pause for a breath and answer. “Maybe it’s rare for sect leader Jin’s soulmate to make contact.” Scrolls were considered with a careful finger traveling down the edge of the paper.
“If I was his soulmate I wouldn’t want to communicate often with him either.” Lan Jingyi grumbled with a cross of his arms, the last of the lifted books having found their place. A sway brought their shoulders to bump together, grabbing Lan Sizhui’s attention and away from his song once more. “And how’s yours going? Anything new?”
With a shake of his head Lan Sizhui held in a flicker of his smile. “Their singing is minimal, but they have been making contact more often.” His breath carried a substantial weight with his words. “I think they’re experiencing troubles. I wish I could be there for them.”
Lan Jingyi collided their shoulders again, clicking his tongue at the sight of the other’s dropped expression. “You are there for them. A lot more than they have for you by what I’ve heard.” A snap of Lan Sizhui’s eyes elicited a defensive raise of Lan Jingyi’s hands. “It’s just what it seems like to me! I’m surprised you even still have a voice to use for the amount you’re giving.”
A drop of Lan Sizhui’s shoulders followed with a turn of his head, correcting his initial response. His fingers played out a nervous fiddle with a split end of the scroll under his thumb. “I don’t mind.” His lips pulled together, shaping a timid smile as he spoke aloud thoughts that felt taboo to share. “I like knowing they’re with me, and I want them to know I’m there too.”
The loud groan that rumbled out from Lan Jingyi’s throat accompanied the slip of his arms. His hands were thrown to Lan Sizhui’s shoulders, using the lean of his weight to steer the man. “Alright enough with your bleeding romance. You need some fresh air.” The sputtered protest was ignored in favour of leading his push. “Step over the threshold and we’re outside!”
In a scramble of feet, Lan Sizhui moved over the raised wood. His head turned, readying a new reason when the corner of his eyes caught a familiar streak of red. The reflexive bow could only be bent halfway at his waist as Lan Jingyi’s hands remained firm. “Wei-Qianbei, we did not expect you to visit the library pavilion today.”
The twirl of a plucked reed moved smoothly between Wei Wuxian’s fingers. The skillful busying of his energy driven hands couldn’t distract from his exchange of lifted eyebrows. “And I didn’t expect to hear song coming from inside.” The curve of a teasing smile increased when Lan Sizhui’s eyes suddenly became averse to direct contact.
Using the press of his palm to the shoulders still under him, Lan Jingyi increased his height to shoot back. “Listening to someone else’s conversation huh?” Lan Jingyi disregarded respect for seniority without thinking through every conversation with the once imposing Yiling Patriarch. The feeling of equals always settling quickly.
Wei Wuxian released a deep exhale as he stood up from his lean against the pavilion. “When everything here is so quiet, it’s easy to pick up actual noise.” The flick of his fingers shot the bent reed over the railing of the covered walkway. His attention soon fell to Lan Sizhui as the next thing to keep him occupied. “A-Yuan, where did you learn that song?”
Lan Sizhui’s fingers laced together, connecting behind his back as if he could hide the truth. His thumb pressed into his knuckles, speaking only what was necessary when Wei Wuxian invaded his personal space to pull out an answer. His voice dropped, hearing the beginnings of a call bloom again in his head. “My soulmate likes that song.” The familiar notes filled the back of his mind, compelling his instinctual response to pick up the melody without thinking.
A knowing smile crept across Wei Wuxian’s face. The point of a finger directed at Lan Sizhui circled in the air, adding to the vigor in his voice. “That’s a traditional lullaby from Yunmeng.” He waited for the expected widening of eyes from the Lan disciples before continuing. “Count yourself as lucky if your soulmate is from Yunmeng. You’ll actually be introduced to good food later in your life!”
The shaky touch of Lan Sizhui’s fingertips met with the corners of his mouth. The detail burrowed into his mind, sparking a new excitement. His soulmate had been offering their own traces of their life for Lan Sizhui to find. It had been there since their beginning. A line to lead him, a song to take him by the hand.
“I wanted to let you know before punishment arrives.”
Lan Jingyi straightened his posture, angling his chin higher in the air. “Punishment for what?” His hands left Lan Sizhui to his daydreams, finding a new position on his own hips.
“What? You think I was the only person to hear you?” The overdone shake of his head followed his laugh. “For a sect that claims it’s above gossip, the disciples really don’t mind sticking their noses into things.”
Lan Jingyi’s lips curled, his jest already climbing out of his stomach. “So you’re saying you fit in well here?”
Wei Wuxian’s finger was quick to jab the smaller in years but older in height square in the chest. “I was kind enough to let you two know so you could leave before they get back and here you are, taking my kindness for granted.” His mouth twisted, masking a creeping sense of pride. “I’ll make sure to remember for next time.”
“Jingyi.”
Both turned at the address, letting the fake argument dissolve abruptly. The smile stretching new lengths across Lan Sizhui’s face held its own glow. His mind was swaddled in the latest paradise, too absorbed in delight to feel gravity. “You should go. I’ll accept the punishment.” His arm extended out, letting his palm turn into the sky with his offer.
“Or we could both leave which I think is the better option.” Lan Jingyi stated his own obvious thought process as he leaned down the path, watching for signs of others.
“I’ve been caught with this song before so punishment may be harsher. Even more if I leave.” When the smile reached Lan Sizhui’s eyes, Lan Jingyi’s determination crumbled. “Now go on. There’s still hope I’ll be back earlier than nightfall.”
Lan Jingyi slipped into a sulk. The front of his body hung forward, a limp posture clashing with his high features. “Guess I’ll just eat alone without my self-sacrificial friend.”
Wei Wuxian tutted at the other, already swatting his arm with listless fingers. “Start moving. I’m not hanging around to be an accomplice.” Another passive swipe set them in motion, just as the wink over his shoulder gave approval.
Lan Sizhui drew in a deep lungful, resting a cupped hand over his heart. Its rhythm hadn’t slowed since the given hope. His skin had grown warm and his body was light. He hoped his soulmate could feel it with him, that they could feel the stirred convictions. Lan Sizhui closed his eyes, feeling the excitement as flames flickered up his throat.
And he let it out.
~
The tightness in Jin Ling’s chest was overpowering. It threatened to suffocate him with each step his march led him in. The unsteadiness that shook his voice was no longer given the attention it once had, now only a part of the side effects from his body’s strain.
He hummed more as his stride lengthened, purposefully missing the decorative stone path in his frustrations. His held hope dwindled with each lack of an answer. The vibrations from his chest rattled his teeth, but he had no energy to find control when he needed to be heard. He had to be louder, he needed his soulmate to answer.
Jin Ling skipped the short steps up to the Jingshi, his fist already balled up to bang against the wood of the door. He waited all of one heave of his chest before knocking, shaking the door in its frame. When Jin Ling’s patience was threadbare, the door slid open.
Without a greeting or waiting for more given space, Jin Ling barraged in. His eyes quickly scanned the area, trying to look into areas of the room cut off by sectioning screens. “You better be alone.” The words were bit out, struggling with his breath.
“If you’re not counting yourself as company then yes, I am alone.” Wei Wuxian spun his jest into the air, surveying the tense stature of the other. When he felt satisfied in his examination, he waved Jin Ling in further. “I’m guessing you’re not here to visit me. Poor old me.” Wei Wuxian sighed with a long shake of his head.
“I don’t have time for your theatrics. I need help.” Jin Ling grabbed at the hem of his sleeve as the words left his mouth. A bitter taste coated his tongue from the feeling of who he had to turn to.
Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped, adding to his acting. “Me? You specifically need my help?” The unlock of his knees let him flop in a heap at the table in the center of the room. His legs stretched out, allowing him to find a relaxed position as Jin Ling was bolted in place. “You might as well have a seat.” The sweep of his arm offered the space across from him as his head remained level with the table, cradled casually in his other hand.
Jin Ling’s grounding grip left his heavily embroidered robe, changing to cling to the sheath of Suihua. “I don’t plan on staying.” His bad habit of grinding his teeth together worsened in his irritation.
“Humour me would you?” A loose strand of hair was toyed with in front of Wei Wuxian’s forehead, his eyes practically crossing to find a focus on it. “If I’m going to be helping you in whatever has you so tense, the least you could do is sit down.”
Scuffing his boot on the floor was one last act of annoyance Jin Ling could give as he dropped with a huff. His sword banged on the table, echoing along the walls as if to mock the room’s name. “I don’t have time for this.” His glare sharpened, watching the laid back posture in a simmering anger.
“Tea?” Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow with the question, watching the grimace grow along the Jin sect leader. With the slam of hand to his knee, Wei Wuxian pulled himself up, finding a new languid position of leaning against the table. “Listen, unless someone is dying as we speak, I think we have time.” A long finger tapped the side of the teapot, accentuating his statement. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s not actually tea.”
Containing his temper was no longer an ability Jin Ling possessed when his arms flew out. “Someone could be dying!” His palms struck the wood of the table with the rage of his voice. “You need to help me right now because you’re likely the only person who’s messed around in this!”
Wei Wuxian raised his eyebrows, giving ample room for Jin Ling to grapple with the content of his words. Jin Ling’s hands found their second nature as fists once more, adding another strike to the wood separating them. “Soulmate bonds! Don’t tell me you haven’t researched it with all the things you’ve done!” The rough lean on his forearm lifted Jin Ling, having his knees take the full strain of his weight.
With a full body shrug, Wei Wuxian squashed his lips to the side of his face. “Unfortunately for you and your crisis, that is something I never dabbled in.” A hand was held up to halt the anticipated bellow. “It doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about it. Just likely not the answer you’re looking for.”
A new found sparkle grew in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, enticing him to lean in further. “Are you trying to find yours? As a sect leader I’m surprised you’re coming to me and not sending out some kind of reward for whoever can find them for you.” An excited wiggle found its way into Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, pushing his head to sway in the movement. “Ohh, is that what you are doing? Is that why you’ve been trying to speak with the elders?”
Jin Ling’s posture went rigid, straightening his spine to brush over the flush creeping up his neck. A cackle exploded at the physical response, adding to the burn on Jin Ling’s skin. “Shut up!” The laughter played out, unhampered by the honed in stare. “It’s not like that! I’m not paying anyone to find them, I’m doing it myself.” A breath was sucked back into his mouth the moment the sincerity left him.
“That’s not the point,” Jin Ling grumbled, turning his head to hide his agitation. “I’ll find them with time. What I need to know right now is if they’re okay.”
A fresh round of laughter died in Wei Wuxian’s stomach as he caught the tone. “If they’re okay?” Sitting up from his lean, his head tilted with the question. “Can’t you just sing something and wait for a response?” His arms shifted comfortably across his chest, holding himself in place.
Jin Ling’s brow dropped, his volume falling gradually with his sour front. “I have, and there’s been no answer…” His eyes dropped to Suihua, watching his fingers push limply as the attached tassel. The churn in his stomach increased with his candid words.
Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, flicking his hand in the air to settle the spoken worry. “They’re likely busy and will get back to you.”
Jin Ling’s entire torso hovered over the table as his hands slammed on Suihua with firm anger. “He always answers! No matter the day, the time, he always replies!”
A chilling silence settled, trailing the tail of the cutting outburst. Jin Ling’s laboured breathing lifted his shoulders, barely able to keep himself in place as his attention was stuck to Wei Wuxian, watching the man lean forward with arms still crossed. A foreboding grin found a shape along his lips. A beat was held, waiting for the one sealing word to leave his mouth. “He?”
The gape of Jin Ling’s jaw fused shut in an instant. His head snapped back, fighting to stare the other down with any remaining strength. The more Wei Wuxian tipped forward, the more Jin Ling drew back, coming to rest securely on his legs. Jin Ling’s breath grew hot even as it streamed through his nose. His frame shook, swallowing more dread in his slip up, finding the choice to own the accident. “He.” A nervous lick at his dry lips did nothing to calm his heart at the admission. “He always answers me. He’s always answered quickly, even when we were kids.”
Wei Wuxian folded himself more over the table at the new fuel. “You’ve been connected since you were kids? How young?” His curiosity spilled just as his hair over his shoulder.
Jin Ling’s posture adjusted again, paying no attention to the dissecting questions. “He’s never taken this long, something must be wrong.”
A thumb drew lazy lines under Wei Wuxian’s chin as he considered the idea. “Maybe he’s somewhere he can’t make noise at, or maybe he’s asleep?”
Jin Ling shook his head, dismissing the ideas immediately. “No, something is wrong.” His hands were back to his sword, gripping it as if it had the power to quell his mind. His brow furrowed, stress eating at his features. “If something happened to him because I was too slow to find him I’ll-”
“Easy now!” Wei Wuxian waved his hands as if too cool off the atmosphere of the room. “You worry too much. Drawing too many conclusions without much to go by.”
A boiling heat breached Jin Ling’s tongue once more at the false calm. “This has never happened! It’s all the evidence I need to know something is wrong! No matter what I do, he doesn’t even give a single note back.” The sheath of Suihua scraped along the wood of the table, edging the solace gradually back closer. When his finger danced along the hilt, his own ritual of comforts seeped out.
The hums deep in his chest rumbled like distant thunder, warming the palms of his hands. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the sound of soulmate joining. His tone would lift the notes, and Jin Ling’s worries with each word. A gentle blanket he wrapped himself in every night, now drifting with the worry if it would ever come back.
“Jin Ling?”
The anxiety dotted a wetness at Jin Ling’s eyes he couldn’t feel until his head shot back up. Regret laid a pungent taste in his mouth by the devious grin he met. “What.” He cleared his throat, struggling to keep a monotone level of his voice as more pressure weighed on his chest.
“Where did you learn that song?” While Wei Wuxian’s grin slipped higher, his body remained still. A contrast to his usually perpetual movements.
Jin Ling’s attention was back to Suihua, a childish avoidance making breathing easier. “Jiujiu used to sing it to me…” The filling tightness in his stomach mounted. “It was when I was really young alright?” He bit back with a click of his tongue, head preemptively turning.
The tap of Wei Wuxian’s knuckles along the table granted him a sideways glance. “You know, now that I think about it... I may have something that can help you.”
The spin of Jin Ling’s body knocked his knees to the table. “What is it?” The breathless question waited without any patience left, showcased by the twitch in his foot.
“Well,” Wei Wuxian pulled on his vowels, dragging out his time as he reached across to pour himself a cup of the obviously not tea water. The cup was pulled up to hover under his nose, taking in the acute smell. “You know at the side of the mountain where Lan Zhan houses his rabbits, right?”
Jin Ling rolled his eyes, “I’m unfortunately familiar with that place, yes.”
Throwing back the drink in a single gulp, Wei Wuxian pointed a finger out in a new comeback. “I think you mean fortunately, as that’s where your problems will be solved.”
Fresh doubt began to simmer on Jin Ling’s pulled back lips. “How is a mountain side full of rabbits going to help? It’s not like it will help my reach or anything.” The idea was chewed inside his mouth, relaying a look of distaste at the notion.
With his second cup already drained, Wei Wuxian’s head dipped low in his nod. “You could say that.” A revitalized breath of air punctuated the room with a smack of his lips. “And what do you have to lose by trying it? If nothing you’re doing is working, then why not something new?” The raise of his empty cup provided a flat scape to eye the other over. A silent dare, and a gentle push.
Jin Ling puffed a heavy sigh as he grabbed at Suihua. “Fine.” His stand was full of turbulence, his remaining composure ruffled by the dubious suggestion. “And what, should I go there at sunset or something?”
Wei Wuxian sounded off behind him, a played up tipsy laugh that only added to Jin Ling’s uncertainty. “How did you know? It’s almost like you’ve done this before!” The man’s throat constricted as another laugh whisked up.
A grumble was muffed in Jin Ling’s mouth as he pushed the door open, leaving the other to his own sense of humour. The proposal to trek along the mountain’s side and into the center of a flock of contraband rabbits was not part of the help Jin Ling thought he’d receive. A small hope was still held that Wei Wuxian would call his name, chasing after him with a real remedy.
When he had passed through the decorative garden at the foot of the Jingshi and no noise came for him, any remaining optimism left with his breath. Jin Ling’s shoulders drew back, and his chin was pulled up, painting back a confident image while his mind twisted tighter. His eyes followed the line of the sun when his natural reaction to reach for calm was met with silence. Unfounded worries flooded him as he wondered if his soulmate decided to let Jin Ling experience the silence he gave in his youth.
Jin Ling mourned the years he missed. Too caught up in the planted idea that he needed strength on his own. That centuries of woven tales of distanced lovers attached by songs in their hearts were only distractions. Many never found their duet of love, separated by an unknown distance and time. Most settled for what was close by instead. The years Jin Ling decided he couldn’t depend on a detached voice were wiped clean when he felt the voice cry with need.
His soulmate had come to him when he was alone, and he would do the same.
His soulmate was perfect. They were the calm for his worries, the company for long nights. They were intelligent and kind, gifting Jin Ling songs he wrote into existence just for him. Jin Ling only ever wanted to fall asleep to their voice, and when he imagined the safety of laying next to them, his heart pulled him further.
He swallowed the empty images of life if his soulmate left him as he climbed the worn path along the mountain. A single note to confirm they were with him, and Jin Ling would empty Koi Tower’s vaults to find them. One scare would be one too many. Any amount of money to find and protect his soulmate like they had done for him, he would spend every last piece he had for it. His soulmate deserved all it and more. He wouldn’t leave them alone.
Jin Ling’s fingers twitched the more he dwelled with building tension. When the path had wound to a gradual end, his mouth had already begun to buzz with impatience hums. He reached out with his favourite of his soulmate’s composed songs, filled with the exact cold clouds that drew his eye to Gusu.
Sound bounced up his throat, and he held his breath. His boots pushed through the long grass, hearing his pulse through his head as he waited. He summoned from memory a rise in the song’s repetition, skipping parts as the song was more familiar by his soulmate’s tongue. His heart hurt, his jaw tensed.
And he was answered.
Jin Ling’s body turned weightless. A sudden release of everything he pushed deep to the bottom of his stomach spilled out in a glorious unleash. His legs felt weak, and he felt like crying.
His soulmate was okay, they had come back to him. They enveloped him tightly with thick repose, and he never wanted to let it go. Jin Ling’s chest trembled as he brought in a breath, living with the beauty. Plans formed in his mind to pay every high ranking cultivator he could summon to find his soulmate. He’d pull the weight of his title to force his council to write his soulmate’s name into every official document next to his. Jin Ling would give his everything for the voice that continued to grow louder inside his head.
Every shaky step into the clearing, letting his feet lead him, strengthened the volume of his soulmate. Jin Ling’s thoughts were smothered under the intensity, and he only wanted to be granted more. He wanted his soulmate’s mark forever to his skin so they would never be without one another again. How he breathed, how he even stood when he was only with silence was unsustainable. Jin Ling knew he would wither without his soulmate’s songs filling him. His body was dependent on each hook.
The blurriness brimming his vision burned with spots of white as the words echoed against every bone in his body. The patch of rabbits with muddling together shapes seemed to run from his advancing steps. Further from him, and closer to the brightest white of his vision. Jin Ling’s head was pounding, swimming under the current of static overpowering his ears. He blinked, and details came back to him.
His eyes fell to the leafy greens in the figure’s hands. Back bent, waving the foliage to entice the quiet creatures closer. White clad robes with dark hair.
And his lips were moving in time.
Jin Ling accomplished one more breath when his heart jumped into his throat. His blood rushed, his tongue was heavy. The thrum in his chest harmonized in its second nature, following with the same childish chase he had for years.
Every inch of his being threatened to break when their eyes met. Greens had dropped from the gentle hands, spilling on top of the fuzzy piles at his feet. Years of regal countenance were forgotten as a sob broke past Jin Ling’s lips. A stifling mix of exhilaration and exhaustion swirled in his mind when his knees hit the ground. His tears burned him, and he pushed his palms deep into his eyes the moment the figure tripped over his own feet in his race to him.
A croak bubbled up in a broken laugh as a swell of emotions hit him. The trembling breath hitting his skin pulled out a hiccup. Whimpers and laughter fought on his tongue. His body caught in a wave of disorientation on how to react, how to feel, binding him to the spot.
Hands cupped his cheeks, and Jin Ling swore his heart remembered the touch. The warmth that lulled him to sleep each night was the same from the other’s skin. The gentleness from the calm songs now physically held him close.
Jin Ling could only cry.
“I’m here.”
Jin Ling’s throat released him and he wailed. He was safe in the tender hold. His hands wanted to grab at the arms, desperately needing to make sure it all wouldn’t slip away. Words jumbled in his mouth, countless things to say that he had built up since their connection. So much he wanted to share, so much he wanted to thank his soulmate for.
When Jin Ling’s hands fell away from his tear filled eyes, reality charged back into the corners of his ribs. The blindingly wet smile in front of him, the soft eyes, and the faint song hanging from his lips. The melody in his head and the sound hitting his ears, blending with the music of his heart.
Past pulls became clear as the prickling in his skin grew. The natural draw he felt, the fluttering of his breath when they spoke. Jin Ling’s shoulders shook as more light was shed. If he had trusted his mind’s conjecture and taken the step to ask, if he had braved the leap, he would have had the low reverberation of Lan Sizhui to his ear sooner.
“It’s you…” Jin Ling’s voice cracked as he spoke. His throat felt as coated in tears as his face.
Lan Sizhui swallowed back his own unsteadiness with a shaky nod. “It’s me.” His eyes smiled with him in the tilt of his head. “It’s you.” His own staggering laugh bounced with his breathing.
Fingers fanned down Jin Ling’s face, sinking security deep into his flesh. His body still wanted to cry, it still wanted to laugh. To curse his past self, and pull himself closer to Lan Sizhui.
The compress of his cheek to the other’s shoulder reminded him to breathe. “I’m so happy it’s you.” His whisper flowed out like a new song. A melody his lungs would sting with by the amount of need he had to sing it. His hands clutched the front of Lan Sizhui’s robes, his lifeline now in reach to cling to. “You’re here.”
A hand through Jin Ling’s hair pulled a fresh wave of snivels. Lan Sizhui’s heart expanded with each brush of hair, fitting more of Jin Ling inside. “I’m here.”
The wrap of Jin Lings arms pulled them closer together. There was no satisfaction found until they were a maze of life tangled together. “You’ve always been here. You’ve always been with me.” Loneliness in his years was forgotten by the soft cadences, and it was now burned away when against Lan Sizhui’s body. “Every song, every single one you wrote...”
“My devotion.” Lan Sizhui exhaled, grasping at the fragile essence between them. “My love. Did you feel it?” His voice peaked and he laid their heads together, falling into peace.
“I felt it,” Jin Ling’s mind was wild as it spread the memories through him. “It was so much.” Thoughts gave way to waves of emotion. His blood rushed as he could feel the tempo of their hearts match. Bliss was found, just as he was.
“Now I can share my own.”