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It hurt. He didn't really know what more - the wounds he hadn't even tried to heal with energy, focused on helping his people, or the knowledge that he was left without a family.
There was no one left. His parents had been killed in Lotus Pier, his sister had been killed in Nightless City, and the man he had thought was his brother who had defended the rest of the Qishan Wen members had just been killed.
They had killed them all, and he felt no satisfaction. Only pain that he had no one to share with. He wanted to scream, but instead he helped dress the wounds of another cultivator.
He was alone.
"You shouldn't return in this state, Sect Leader Jiang, even if Yunmeng is close."
Concern sounded in Lan Xichen's voice as he approached the man.
"My wounds only seem serious, Zewu-Jun"
Replied Jiang Cheng growlingly, feeling the scream growing inside him again, from which he had nowhere to run. He didn't want anyone to see him weak, not now that he had to rebuild the sect and prove himself fit to lead.
Yet Lan Xichen put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not the wounds I was talking about, Wanyin, but I'm willing to look at them."
He gestured to a place apart from the other cultivators, where they sat down a moment later.
Jiang Cheng opened his robes, making it easier to access his torso, which was disfigured not only by the still pink scars, but also by new cuts. Lan Xichen, meanwhile, took out herbs and clean bandages.
They were silent for a long moment, each immersed in their own thoughts. The younger Leader tried not to grimace with bitterness. The elder, tried to attend to the physical wounds first before attempting to help the man's heart.
He knew him well enough to know how close he was with his siblings, one of whom had died trying to help and the other he had had to kill himself. Whether they did the right thing was hard to say at the moment.
They were doing what they felt they had to do, and the consequences were yet to come. Still, he couldn't watch as the usually vibrant grey gaze faded.
"Your heart's a bird without the wings to fly."
Jiang Cheng snorted, finally pulling himself out from under the man's irritatingly gentle touch, beginning to mend his robes.
"I was left alone, what did you expect? Joy?"
"You are not alone. I will carry you."
A wind blew between them bringing with it a shadow of hope that clutched at the broken heart, trying to heal the wounds. The same wind blew thirteen years later.
"I know it's hard to breathe"
Jiang Cheng's words were quiet, filled with irony. It was he himself who was injured, lying on the ground in Guanyin Temple, once again being bandaged by Lan Xichen.
He could see, however, that the man was broken. The movements of his slender hands were mechanical, learned, but there was a lack of proper focus in the dark-golden gaze.
Jiang Cheng felt anger instead, which he didn't intend to pour onto Lan Xichen, however. He could see that the man needed help, just as he had over thirteen years ago.
"I'm not the one who's hurt, Wanyin."
Lan Xichen replied dully after a moment, as if it had only now occurred to him that the man had said something. Jiang Cheng snorted, looking around to the side.
He saw Gusu Lan's cultivators coming to help, saw Wei Wuxian moving away with Lan Wangji, and felt like screaming again. What must have been going on with Lan Xichen?
"Do you remember what you told me then? That my heart was like a bird without wings," he muttered, trying to catch the older man's gaze, though he felt uncomfortable with such words.
He was not a poet, and even if he could compose equally beautiful sentences, he preferred to put them on paper. Now, however, he could not allow Lan Huan to withdraw, as he himself had done.
"You are not alone, Xichen."
"Can you take this weight of mine?"
The whisper that escaped from between the older cultivator's lips was not much louder than the sound of the wind.
Jiang Cheng merely snorted under his breath, but he noticed a flash of tears in the man's eyes, which the man chased away by closing his eyelids for a moment and sighed heavily.
"I will carry you."
He assured him in a whisper, tightening his fingers on his hand for a moment. He saw that Lan Xichen staring at his robes stained with Jin Guangyao's blood.
"I didn't keep my promise... Why then..."
Lan Xichen tried to speak calmly, but he was clearly sinking in guilt, in the emptiness he felt more and more acutely.
"You always gave me advice and help when I asked for it."
Jiang Cheng replied, shaking his head immediately as soon as the older man tried to speak.
"You're not alone, I will carry you."
Hope, which came with the wind, took root in the crippled hearts to knit them together, strengthening them. They were not alone.