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Wei Wuxian is sitting on a hard makeshift bed surrounded by thick robes and blankets. The warming talismans rustle along the tent walls as the small camp sways a little in the harsh winter wind blowing outside.
It’s the time before dawn when all of the camp is silent except for the howling of the wind and animals alike. The hollow rustle of dry leaves as they cling on thin dry trees and then eventually give up, overpowered by the coming winter.
The last hour before dawn, that’s the time Wei Wuxian gives himself to contemplate and spill his feelings about everything that has happened to him. The spirits are silent for once then and it gives him so much peace that he just wants to roll over and sleep. And sleep he does drift off to, only to be woken up by the shivers that are running down his body.
He is restless, he is tired, but most of all, he is cold. He has never been this cold before, not since he gave away his golden core. There is a hollowness in him, a part of him which is gone now, away from his grasp and it makes him feel empty, so very empty. He’s been living like this for almost four months now, but every time he wakes up cold and shivering from a nightmare where his torso is sliced open, he feels like however much he lives, he will never get used to it.
The resentful energy makes it worse; it makes it a hundred times worse.
If he was ascending back then, giving away his core had felt like falling to a small constant value in regard to the years he has left to live now. But taking in huge amounts resentful energy in the Burial Mounds, it had felt like a cold flame had started burning those mere mortal years he had, licking at them and leaving them to ash.
But he has to do this. He has to protect his sect, most importantly, he has to protect his shidi and shijie. He also wants to protect Lan Zhan and so he does. He watches him on the battlefield, which he will only admit is because of his stark white robes, but he knows that is not the real reason. He knows it in the deepest parts of his fragile bones that even if Lan Zhan was dressed in the darkest robes, he would be able to pin point him in a crowd of thousands of living and dead fighting in a chaos. He also watches him improve. He watches him adapt to the undead opponents and to fighting alongside the ones Wei Wuxian animate, as Wei Wuxian does his best to not let the opponents around Lan Zhan overwhelm him. And sometimes when he is particularly lucky, he watches Lan Zhan look back, even if it is for a single glance, gone in a flurry of white robes and splashed blood.
Oh how his heart aches for fighting alongside him but he knows he gave away that option with so many more when he asked Wen Qing to do the impossible.
But he will still do what he can.
So, he knows he has to return to the battle, listen to the screams, both inside and outside, that break the taut silence. He has to let himself become a vessel for the very energy the cultivation world despises and fears despite it being the only reason they aren’t burning under the same sun they swore to shoot.
He takes another sip of the cheap wine he was able to procure, lets the liquid warm his insides even if he knows it does more harm than help. He needs to feel warm, one way or another. His Shijie is safe at the campaign front and not getting to see her is only a small price to ensure her safety, he tells himself to reassure and takes another gulp of the only thing which keep him warm these days from the cold, all physical, emotional and mental.
~
Lan Wangji walks through the camp at half past five. They have an early battle today, something he was anxious about because he always noticed the dark circles under Wei Ying’s eyes. It’s still dark, courtesy to the near winter, but there is a knot of anxiety in his chest and a restless string of emotions which pulls him through the whole camp and leads him to a tent in the Jiang part of the encampment. He stops before he is less than five steps away, debating against disturbing Wei Ying’s sleep schedule, however small and restless it is. He even doubts the other man sleeps, his eyes are red for most of the day, but Lan Wangji can still differentiate the red which is from fatigue and the red which is from Wei Ying's cultivation.
Lan Wangji doesn’t know why Wei Ying is doing what he is doing when he knows it brings harm to his body. He doesn’t know why he is not realizing the harm he is putting himself into and the pain he is putting those who care about him through by continuing his methods of cultivation. He had to remain silent when his brother had asked about Wei Ying a week ago. His brother is worried too but it’s kindness on his part on witnessing one of the most cheerful students turn into the opposite. Lan Wangji just wants to bring him back, hide him away where the resentment won’t be able to harm him. He wants to shield Wei Ying from all the bad gossips the cultivators do about him and provide him with all the love and care he holds for him. But he knows he has no authority, that he cannot cross the boundaries.
So, he has thought that he will play clarity for him. If Wei Ying doesn’t want to come back, he won’t force him, but he will do his best to provide everything he needs ,even if it is trivial or huge. He will respect his wishes but he will ask, he will always ask and try his best to mend the fragile bond they still share when they look at one another during the battle.
The Jiang part of the encampment is still very asleep at this point of hour but slowly waking up. They have to set off early today and he wishes can do something beneficial for Wei Ying in this small duration of time.
He steps closer and calls for the occupant of the tent. He is met with silence from the other end, which is not unusual, but then there is a sound of something heavy hitting the ground and for one moment he worries if Wei Ying is unwell, if he fell. He calls again and debates if he should enter, knowing it is beyond his right to invade Wei Ying’s privacy. There is a sleepy sigh next and then scrambling which leads to another thunk and was that sound of something spilling and splashing? Maybe it was because it is followed by a very slow round of curses which eventually drop into a whisper and then he gets the permission to enter.
He goes inside at once, only for his heart to drop at the sight. He finds Wei Ying looking at him with eyes so red he almost mistakes it for his cultivation, but they are still silver orbs looking at his.
Tired.
So very tired that he feels it himself in his bones.
There is also a smell clinging to the air and he eyes the spilled liquid suspiciously when he looks at one of Wei Ying’s hands holding something tightly under the covers. He thinks it is alcohol but then he also doesn’t understand why Wei Ying is folded between so many blankets when it is only the starting of winter and the snow hasn’t even made an appearance yet. Maybe it’s the demonic cultivation, he thinks and worries. His intentions come and ring again in his mind.
He clears his throat,“Wei Ying”
“Lan Zh-?” Wei Ying's voice is slurred.
Alcohol it is. But he has never seen the other boy this drunk. It also hurts him how Wei Ying is using a tone so resigned and there is another emotion behind it which he cannot grasp. His voice is so fragile, his brain provides next, when he tries but fails to pin point the other emotion. This breaks him all over again because of how different it is from the tone he uses in front of people, in front of Lan Wangji since he returned.
“Mn.” He says for the better of nothing but also to confirm it is indeed him in the tent.
“Why are you-” Wei Ying trails off but he gets the meaning. He is here to ask if he can play clarity for him.
“I-” but the words get stuck in his throat when he looks at the almost hopeful and halfway broken expression reflecting in Wei Ying’s eyes.
Hopeful.
That was the other emotion in his tone and it freezes him. All these weeks he has heard every type of harsh tone Wei Ying could make and it has saddened him so much that he has spent nights clinging hopelessly to the memory of happy smiles which have ceased to exist on their canvas.
This is his first time in a long while listening to Wei Ying when he is speaking so softly and with a slightly hopeful, sad tone that his throat locks up and he is unable to speak what he was here for.
“Why do people drink?” he had asked when he was passing an inn with his uncle and brother when he was thirteen. His uncle had told him how reckless and useless it makes one and reminded him of the rules on the wall concerning such act and the behavior that followed. But his brother had turned to him and answered with a small smile that they drink for many things, and that one of them is to forget what is happening in their lives and enjoy the moment, because it is probably a bad situation but then he had added that it is not the best way to deal with sad things in one’s lives because drinking brings us nowhere and back to where we started with our troubles when it's effects wear off.
Wei Ying is drinking now; he had drunk a lot in his teenage years but that was for youthful fun when he was in Cloud Recesses. The Wei Ying now is the person his brother had told him about all those years ago.
It saddens him, thinking that Wei Ying had preferred drinking over asking him for his help to deal with the horrors the war brought. Lan Wangji is not the same person he used to be. Not since his home was burned. No matter how many people call him emotionless, it will never change the fact that he feels them on a higher degree than anyone else and that he is not unaffected by the times they are forced to go through.
He still couldn’t make sense of the extra blankets and warming talismans though, which were more than what a cultivator of Wei Ying’s caliber would require. He decides to put it aside. But still he couldn’t figure out how he was supposed to help him. He was confused, so very confused and hurt about not knowing what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t say anything he planned to, not even about gusu because all he had heard were harsh responses to those requests. He had a strong urge to go ask his brother but he wasn’t here and Lan Wangji also felt like he couldn’t leave Wei Ying like this. There were so many raw emotions Wei Ying was showing through his red, tired eyes and at that Lan Wangji took a step forward, and then another, until he was standing only a half an arm length away from him. He knelt beside the makeshift bed and arranged the blankets so they covered Wei Ying properly. Wei Ying looked at him with glassy eyes and then let his gaze drift away from Lan Wangji’s eyes.
“Wei Ying” he called to catch the attention of the other man. A shiver ran down Wei Ying’s spine and he immediately thought it must be from the cold. Maybe his core was weak using all the demonic cultivation in the battles. Lan Wangji wasn’t a fool, even if he knew this cultivation harmed Wei Ying, he knew why the other man insisted on it, though the health part greatly troubled Lan Wangji. His arrival had doubled the force of the campaign because Wei Ying himself was the force of an army larger than what they had initially, with the undead following him and the black flute at his lips.
“Give me your hand” he prompted to check on him, mainly his temperature.
Was Wei Ying ill? He couldn’t put a reason behind it though because even small children, once their cores were developed hardly fell ill.
Some some unknown reason, Wei Ying tightened his hold on the blankets and not move his gaze from where it was fixed just above Lan Wangji’s left shoulder.
“Wei Ying” he called again, a hint of desperation slipping into his voice without him taking notice. Still Wei Ying didn’t bulge. He sighed and reached his hand towards Wei Ying’s face, the only skin which was exposed right now.
“Can I?” he needed to ask for his permission before he could move his hand forward. It had been so long and everyone knew Lan Wangji avoided physical contact as much as possible. But Wei Ying was not included with others.
Wei Ying looked at him now, shocked but utterly intoxicated from the alcohol, and then abruptly he swayed forward so that Lan Wangji’s hand was an inch away from his face. Without another thought, Lan Wangji took this as a yes and brought his hand to his cheek.
Cold.
That was the only word which ringed in his mind.
So cold as if his bones, which was so much more visible now that Wei Wuxian was thin and pale, were frozen on the inside. He moved his thumb under his eyes, tracing the thin, fragile and soft skin which stood out, so pale with dark lines. He moved his other hand to Wei Ying’s shoulder and started pouring spiritual energy but for some reason, the skin under his hand remained cold, much colder than it was healthy for a normal person. He changed his tactic and saved the observation for later. One look on the walls gave him an idea and he rotated his energy through the room, channeling it through the talismans which lacked spiritual energy and were only powered by the strokes, and hence were weaker in warding off the cold. The air warmed slowly and he felt something like a sigh of relief leave Wei Ying’s lips as he relaxed in the warmth of the once cold tent. They remained where they were till Lan Wangji determined Wei Ying’s temperature warm enough for him to get up and go about his tasks. Even though Wei Ying was still drunk, Lan Wangji knew he won’t appreciate unwanted company this early in the morning. He let go of his hold on Wei Ying and started to stand back up but a boney hand grabbed his wrist softly, as if all the energy was drained out from the person in front of him.
~
Wei Wuxian was so drunk and that blurred the shock he felt when Lan Zhan, of all people, entered his tent. Still he felt shocked. All throughout the encounter, Lan Zhan’s face was a mask of indifference but Wei Wuxian for the first time looked past it. After he had come back, he had been so surrounded by voices and resentful energy that he had never paid attention to the second jade more than what he spoke of and tried to dismiss every attempt the other made to lock him away and punish him.
Now, in the quiet, with his mind intoxicated, he looked at Lan Zhan’s face and then back away. There was sadness surrounding his figure, not indifference and he didn’t know where that came from. His mind was so tired and drunk that threads of thoughts were slipping out of his grasp before he could think about them. When Lan Zhan had asked for his hand, he had first thought that maybe he knew about his golden core and wanted to confirm it. It had made him coherent enough to not give his wrist even if he so much wanted to erase the look of hurt and confusion in those golden orbs. When Lan Zhan had reached towards his face, and he had felt like a moth attracted to the flame and leaned in instinctively before his mind could control and restrain his actions.
The touch was so soft and full of care but Lan Zhan’s face was a mix of confusion and then hard resolve. He almost wanted to tell him why his spiritual energy would not work but Lan Zhan is nothing if not brilliant.
When he moved to back away it was pure instinct which made Wei Wuxian reach his hand forward and grab his wrist to hold on a little longer in the small bubble of safety they both had formed. He felt relaxed in the other man’s presence, the sandalwood scent washing over him, now when they weren’t arguing or entirely trying to ignore the other person’s presence.
He almost moved his wrist to hold it between Lan Zhan’s fingers and tell him about the biggest secret he was so tired of carrying, along with the two wens. But he stopped himself in time. He tugged Lan Zhan’s wrist when he thought Lan Zhan had frozen registering his hand. He knew the other didn’t like physical contact but this time it was Lan Zhan only who started it first.
“Stay” his tired and hoarse voice asked.
~
And Lan Wangji needed no other reason to do exactly that.