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They gave him three days to recover.
It was supposed to be a concession – the other young masters only got one (officially – obviously no one would stop them from taking more if they needed it), but after one day of lying on his stomach, Nie Huaisang didn’t think he’d ever get up again.
Everything hurt. His back from the welts caused by the paddle. His knees from the bruises caused by kneeling. His stomach from the lack of food. His head from the lack of sleep.
The whole experience left Nie Huaisang feeling miserable and snappish, and by noon he shooed his attendants out of the room so he could moan and groan into his pillow in peace. That was the state he eventually dozed off in, only to be roused suddenly and startlingly by a cold hand on his forehead.
He jolted up in alarm, and immediately regretted it, gasping as a fresh wave of pain set in.
“Xichen-gege, how could you!” he whined. The white cloud patterned robe in the corners of his vision could belong to no one else.
“I’m sorry, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He pulled up a stool to sit down on, and with a concerned frown, once again reached for Nie Huaisang’s forehead. Since it was expected this time, Nie Huaisang didn’t flinch this time, but he did give a soft groan of disapproval at the contact.
“Your attendants said you were ill. I came to check,” Lan Xichen said, his gaze trailing to an untouched tray of food on the table as he did so. Nie Huaisang was too sore to sit up and eat, but too prideful to let someone feed him. “How are you feeling?”
“In pain,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “You – your Lan sect went too far this time!”
Lan Xichen hummed as he cautiously peeled back the thin blanket over Nie Huaisang. The two had known each other for many years, and Lan Xichen had seen him at several low points especially during his previous two years at the Cloud Recesses. Nie Huaisang realized too late that he should probably feel ashamed to be seen in such a state.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” Lan Xichen said after a brief silence. “There’s no swelling and the cuts have closed well.”
The other Nie disciples had said something similar. Coming from them, it sounded placating, but Lan Xichen’s voice was void of such sympathies. Nie Huaisang sniffled.
“It hurts,” he muttered.
“It’s supposed to hurt. It’s a punishment.” Lan Xichen set the cover back and sat back onto the stool. “You know alcohol is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. To know the rules, and partake in a late-night drinking party anyway – what did you expect would happen?”
Nie Huaisang expected he wouldn’t be caught. Or at least, not until the hangover the next day. But then he could have been caught by a concerned Lan Xichen instead of that merciless Lan Wangji.
“Couldn’t you have gone easier on me though?” Nie Huaisang asked. “You know I can’t heal as fast as the others.”
“Uncle gave you more time to recover for this reason,” Lan Xichen agreed. “But it’s not a matter of healing faster. Wei-gongzi purchased the alcohol and organized the event, so he received a harsher penalty. However, you broke all the same rules as the other young masters. There is no reason to believe you were coerced in any way. Why should you face a lighter punishment for the same crimes?”
“I don’t have a golden core…”
“Then you should have considered that before joining in the debauchery.”
His usual excuse dismissed, Nie Huaisang groaned and buried his face in his pillow once again. Lan Xichen, he decided, despite being outwardly nicer, was actually just as bad as his brother.
Nie Huaisang’s lack of golden core wasn’t exactly a secret, but not something to talk openly about. He supposed the Lan were giving him some face by not drawing attention to it with their punishment. Nie Huaisang had gotten into trouble a number of times in his three years of study, but was usually made to copy rules, write essays, or, at worst, kneel for a day or two. At home he was mostly punished with physical exercise. He hadn’t been beaten in a very long time, and found it deeply unfair. The other young masters would just use their golden cores to numb and heal the pain. He could only endure it and wait.
Tears sprang to his eyes. He drew in a shaky breath that made his muscles tense in pain and come out as a miserable whimper.
“Huaisang, don’t cry,” Lan Xichen said. “I didn’t come here to lecture you. I’ve brought you some medicine.”
“I already took medicine. It didn’t help. I’m going to die alone and in pain.”
“You’re not going to die,” Lan Xichen said with a fond familiar huff. Nie Huaisang heard a jar open, then suddenly felt Lan Xichen’s hand on his shoulder. He glanced up and found Lan Xichen’s other hand in front of his mouth, a small blue pill rolling around on his palm. He promptly turned away, face heating up in shame.
“This is a painkiller created by the Lan sect healers. It will help,” Lan Xichen coaxed and moved his hand in front of Nie Huaisang’s mouth again, leaving him no choice but to take the pill into his mouth. Only afterwards did Lan Xichen finally retreat. “Was that so hard? Give it a little bit.”
Nie Huaisang didn’t say anything and waited. His body felt sore and heavy, but he didn’t flinch as sharply when Lan Xichen pulled back the blanket to look at his wounds again.
“I was told you haven’t eaten anything today. Do you want to try and sit up for lunch?”
“I want to sleep,” Nie Huaisang griped. There was a gnawing feeling in his stomach, but when he craned his neck to see the tray of foot, he found it thoroughly unappetizing. “My attendants shouldn’t have bothered you like that. I’ll scold them later.”
“They didn’t bother me. I came to them. I was worried about you.”
“Mhm.”
“If you want to sleep, that’s fine too. I really didn’t mean to wake you before,” Lan Xichen said. “But you have to promise me you’ll eat something later. How do you expect to heal otherwise?”
“So much for not lecturing me,” Nie Huaisang muttered icily.
“It’s only because I care,” Lan Xichen replied, which was really the worst of it. Nie Huaisang was used to disappointing his brother and getting yelled at until he was red in the face. He’d yell back, then cry and sulk until they next saw each other and sat in silence until they couldn’t take it anymore. Lan Xichen however never yelled, only sighed heavily and tried to understand. To say that felt worse was an understatement.
“You must have had a rough night,” Lan Xichen sighed heavily, his voice full of understanding.
“A rough two nights more like…” Nie Huaisang admitted. “Last night, my back hurt. The night before, I was throwing up. It was awful.” The drinking party itself might have been fun while it lasted but the memory of the aftermath made his stomach churn, reaffirming Nie Huaisang’s desire not to touch his lunch. Emboldened though, he continued. “I really thought I was going to die yesterday. I felt so awful even before they started hitting us. Xichen-gege, you’re absolutely right not to drink. Hangovers are the worst.”
“Duly noted.”
Nie Huaisang nodded solemnly. He didn’t want to admit it, but the pill had started working. His back still hurt if he made too sharp a movement, but just lying still wasn’t as bad anymore.
“Huaisang, why don’t I play some music for you?” Lan Xichen offered softly. “It’ll also help with the injuries. And hopefully let you relax.”
“If I get too relaxed right now, I’ll fall asleep right in front of you. It’d be rude.”
“I’d like to think we’re close enough at this point to forgive that little rudeness from each other, don’t you?” Lan Xichen said. “Whatever the reason, you had a difficult couple of days. You need to rest.”
Nie Huaisang didn’t disagree with that. But he still felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he watched Lan Xichen take out Liebing. Before Lan Xichen could put the flute to his lips, he whispered,
“I’m sorry about the trouble...”
Lan Xichen smiled. “I forgive you. For what it’s worth, I am glad you’ve made some friends this year,” he said. “You will remember propriety in the future, I hope, but it is good that you’re having fun.”
Lan Xichen really did know him too well. Nie Huaisang felt around for the blanket’s edge to pull it over his burning face, succeeding only in getting Lan Xichen to chuckle and do it for him.
“Mm, no matter who I make friends with, I’ll still always like Xichen-gege best,” Nie Huaisang muttered into the blanket as Lan Xichen started to play.
He drifted off into a peaceful painless sleep, lulled by the flute’s gentle tune.