Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three months is a long time. Three months and the world seemed to have decided to shove off the memories as if they never existed. As if he never existed. He had been a blight to them, and now he had been conveniently removed, erased, forgotten. Why did he expect anything else from his fellows?

Three months is a long time. It had seemed both a lifetime and just a moment. He had felt Wei Ying’s absence like a wound, long-healing and endlessly aching. He had been gone for three months. He might be dead. No, no. Wei Ying was stronger than that. He wouldn’t be killed that easily. He would never leave, haunting the steps beside Wangji for this lifetime and probably the next.

The morning air is damp with the anticipation of rain, thick in his throat. It mirrors the sinking dread that seems to permeate his bones more and more everyday. Jiang Wanyin had sent out patrol after patrol to look for his brother with no luck. Wangji had wished to go on every single one because maybe maybe if he went, it would be like a lantern that calls his best friend home. But instead, he had been stuck here, out of place in white robes, trying to rebuild his sect alone.

Three months is a long time.

The rain is falling densely now in a soaking wet curtain. But amidst the stone courtyard, there’s a smudge of black. A drop of ink on a sea of parchment, the relief of shade on a bright summer’s day.

A best friend returned from a disappearance.

Wei Ying.

His shoes slipped as he sprinted across the wooden decking, the voice of his uncle unbidden reminding him running was uncivilised. For once, Wangji didn’t care about the rules. It had been three months of choking down the smoke and ruin of his life. Wei Ying was fresh air, purifying and boundless. He needed to breathe.

But this wasn’t the breath he was gasping for, no. This seemed wrong, unnatural.

His black robes were tattered and torn around his shoulders and Wangji could see the raw soles of his feet through the holes in his shoes.

“Wei Ying!” He can hear someone shout, maybe its his own voice.

From the nearby dining hall, there’s the clatter of swords and feet. A contingent of off-duty soldiers clammer into the courtyard, on the ready to defend their still-wounded clan.

“Wei-gongzi!” One of them shouts, stopping just a metre from the unconscious man. Lan Wangji bundles Wei Wuxian into his arms, ignoring the very public nature of his surroundings. It was pouring rain and Wei Wuxian did not need to add sickness to his likely long list of trauma.

“Find the physician.” He manages to say, his baritone voice staying remarkably steady. A soldier nods and runs off, sword rattling beside him.

Wei Ying did not stir even as Wangji hustles across the compound, favouring expediency over elegance. As he settles him down on the infirmary bed, the Lan places a finger under his nose. The man was just so still, a mere page from death, he had to check. A steady but shallow breath warms his fingers and he breathes out a sigh like he never had before.

A few moments later, the door slides open and a man steps in, panting. Acting on impulse, Wangji turns and glares down whoever would dare interrupt him. He doesn’t miss the brief glimpse of fear in the other’s eyes.

Smoothly gliding from fear into decorum, the man bows. “Lan-ergongzi, I am the physician of the Jiang clan. My name is Tie Xiuying but most just call me Tie-daifu.”

“I found Wei Wuxian in the courtyard. He is unconscious.”

Xiuying nods once and begins his examination. He is efficient, disrobing the man, careful to avoid aggravating any potential injuries. Lan Wangji looked away as the physician pulled off Wei Wuxian's outer layers, leaving him just in a pair of trousers. When he looked back, he had to physically stop himself from gasping.

Wei Ying had always been lean and trim. But now… now he just looked ill. Like he had gone three months without the sun, pale waxy skin stretched over bone. Too much like a corpse. He forces his eyes away, unable to stand the thought of such. The physician meanwhile carefully inspects every inch of him, finding a littering of wounds. A hand on his back comes back wet with blood and the man makes a startled noise.

"Could you assist me in turning him over?"

Wangji nods, unable to find the voice to respond. Crisscrossing the wings of Wei Wuxian's shoulder blades are the frayed, jagged scars indicative of Zidian. There are other wounds, whip strokes and neat sword swipes but he finds he cannot tear himself away from those electric scars, barely healed. The thick fabric of his hanfu had kept the blood contained but now exposed to air, the wounds had begun bleeding freely, making the already pale man even ghastlier.

The door behind them slams open and Bichen is unsheathed before he can even realise it. Jiang Wanyin stomps in, "Was anyone going to tell me that my missing brother showed up? Or were you just going to keep that a little secret?"

Lan Wangji knows at least part of this anger is not for him but it still makes the hand on his sword clench. Jiang Wanyin parades around the world boasting about how much he loves his brother but in every case, he will choose controlling him over understanding him.

"Jiang-zongzhu, please keep your voice down." The physician admonishes and Lan Wangji is impressed with his bravery.

A tiny wounded noise from the bed makes all conversation, civil or otherwise, stop.

"Wei Ying?"

The man, wraith, on the bed quivers. His head tosses from side to side weakly as though trying to dispel a fog. Mumbled words and pleas escape his lips. In a violent jolt, he nearly throws himself off the bed. Immediately Wangji is there, calloused hands holding his legs.

Behind him, the pieces start to click in Jiang Wanyin's mind and fury burns vibrant in his veins. How dare he think he is more to Wei Wuxian than me?

"Get out." His voice is steadfast.

Those sharp eyes lock on his but he will not let the intimidation bother him.

"Jiang-zongzhu, mind your words." The Lan’s voice is deep and rumbling, speaking to thunderstorms and earthquakes all the same.

"I said GET OUT! You are no longer welcome in Lotus Pier. Someone will escort you out of the gates. From there, you can find your own accommodation. I'm sure your clan can afford it."

Jiang Wanyin knows, oh does he know, that he has gone a step too far. They should have been kin, sworn brothers. The two remaining heirs of two once powerful sects. But he has always been prone to anger. And anger burns hotter than sensibility.

Lan Wangji's eyes are no longer fixed on his. Instead they stare lower. Right at the silver ring sparking against his skin. Bichen is no match for Zidian, Jiang Wanyin finds himself thinking as if violence would really improve this already tense situation.

If Zewu-jun had been there, or any remaining member of the Gusu Lan sect, they would have been horrified at the expression on Lan Wangji's face. It spoke of rage as irrepressible as the tides and frustration as wide as the valleys. It was old and potent, bottled away for too many years. But the only other man who could read it was unconscious on the bed beside them, the very reason this whole situation had begun.

The man unfolds to his full height, drawing up to an intimidating frame. One hand, clenched around his sword, the other tucked behind his back, his white robes too clean, too blinding.

“Thank you, Tie-daifu for your care of Wei Wuxian.” are his only words before giving a deep bow to the doctor. He neither speaks nor acknowledges Jiang Wanyin’s presence as he leaves.

And after the door has slid shut, Jiang Wanyin is hit with the feeling that he has just meddled in something he should not have dared touch.

Chapter Text

The disciple charged with escorting him off the premises at least has the presence to look mildly apologetic. He stands in the doorway of the guest quarters as Wangji packs his robes and calligraphy materials back into his qiankun pouch. They both operate in silence, all the way from the infirmary, to the guest quarters, to the front gates. There he leaves the Lan with a bow, shutting the doors behind him.

Despite having been in Yunmeng for three months, rarely has he ventured out into the city. The streets are long and wide, fishermen shouting today’s catch while weavers carefully extract delicate lotus stems for silk.

He’s drawn to one stall in particular. Just in front of the steps of an apothecary, a young woman gently folds robes and undergarments of this prized textile. Wei Wuxian had told him about it, back in the Xuanwu Cave after his red silk robe had been destroyed, “Nothing goes to waste in Yunmeng, especially the lotus. The seeds are eaten, the flowers pressed into perfumes, and the stalks into silks and my shijie’s soup. Someday, Lan Zhan, you need to visit Lotus Pier and try my shijie’s cooking…”

Well I’m here, Wei Ying. I’ve been here for three months. I’ve been living in the shadows of your past for three months. You know Jiang Yanli offered once? She asked me if I’d like to join her for a meal and I said no. It wouldn’t be right, not without you.

On the table before him, there’s a deep blue robe, clearly dyed with the finest indigo. It’s darker, richer, and more luxurious than he could ever wear in Cloud Recesses. But he wasn’t in Cloud Recesses anymore. Next to it, a safflower-dyed red one shines in the watery sunlight. Having seen the state of Wei Ying’s robes back in the doctor’s room, the man would be due for a new set.

He buys them both, firmly ignoring the voice in his head whispering rule fifty-one, being frugal is a virtue.

Purchases safely stowed in his pouch, he turns his attention to finding accommodations. Asking the woman running the silk stand, Lan Wangji learned there were only two inns in Yunmeng. She recommended the nicer one (and conveniently the one closest to Lotus Pier). Thanking her, he heads on his way.

After securing a room for the evening, he settles down at a table in the teahouse. Bichen rests against the edge beside him, a not-so-subtle signal he wants to be left alone.

Experience in travelling has taught him to take his meals whenever he can but the bowls in front of him are less appetising every time he looks at them.

He can ignore the stares of the other patrons, in hushed awe of seeing a Lan cultivator in person. He can ignore the clamour of the street outside, people trading and animals braying, all of that. But he can’t ignore the tide of animosity towards Jiang Wanyin that rises with every moment he sits.

A voice cuts through his attitude and he turns to see the physician give a low bow, his gentian-blue robes swaying gently with the motion.“Lan-ergongzi, please excuse the interruption.”

Lan Wangji places his chopsticks down on their rest and gestures to the stool across from his. “Not at all, Tie-daifu. Please sit down.”

A server scurries over and the doctor orders himself a steaming pot of biluochun. Lan Wangji hides the beginnings of a smile behind a sip of his own cup. See Wei Ying, other people like biluochun too.

“I must apologise on behalf of the Jiang clan for the way our zongzhu has treated you. Jiang Wanyin is a good leader, fierce and loyal to us, but his temper can bite like a viper. He should not have spoken to you that way and I apologise for your sudden relocation from the guest quarters.”

He would be lying (breaking rule thirty-two, his thoughts helpfully remind him) if he said he wasn’t surprised by the physician’s conduct. Wei Wuxian had waxed poetic about the members of the Jiang clan and their kindness and until now he had written it off as clan pride. But barring Jiang Wanyin, he had been treated with nothing but respect and hospitality in his time here. The other clans may be content to claim that Yunmeng Jiang is carefree and undisciplined but as is becoming increasingly usual, the other clans were incorrect.

“There is no need for any apologies, Tie-daifu. The actions of Jiang Wanyin are not yours to atone for.”

“That does not make them sting any less, I’m afraid.”

The man is young, probably only a year older than Xichen if that. Too old to have been spared by the Wens under the guise of childhood, too young to have been practicing medicine for long.

“Forgive me for intruding, daifu, but how did you survive the massacre?”

The man winces minutely, regret glancing across his face. “I was only an apprentice of the previous physician at the time of the massacre. I had left Lotus Pier to visit my brother in a nearby town. A villager was sent to recall me. When I returned home, I learned that I was one of few survivors and now the only doctor of the Jiang clan.”

Sensing the man’s growing discomfort, Wangji diverges in an attempt to distract him, “Is there any news on Wei Wuxian’s condition?”

The other man perks up, quietly grateful for the change. “I’ve treated and wrapped his injuries. Now it just seems to be a matter of waiting for them to heal. While numerous, none were too severe. It is unusual however. The wounds on his back appear to be from our distinguished leader’s Zidian.” The man adds, his sudden displeasure towards Jiang Wanyin heavy on his tongue. “Where on earth was he for the last three months?”

“That is a question I would like to know the answer to as well. Has he regained consciousness?”

“Not as of yet. I am both content and concerned with this. He should have awoken by now which worries me but I also fear what may lay in his mind when he wakes. Regarding that, I believe that Wei-gongzi would be more comfortable with you at his side than his brother. If I could provide you a way into Lotus Pier without attracting any attention, would you do it?”

“Of course.” There is no hesitation in Lan Wangji’s voice. “But what of Jiang-guniang? Would she not be a better companion to Wei Wuxian?”

“As sure as I am that she would never leave her brother’s side given the choice, Jiang-guniang is human and requires rest of her own. She is aware of my plan for you and agrees fully that you should not be kept away from Wei-gongzi. It seems upon hearing of Jiang-zongzhu’s conduct towards you, she inflicted the full might of her elder sibling capabilities upon him. I expect it will be a long while before he is treated to his favourite dishes again… I must be returning now but I’ll meet you here after the evening meal.”

He places a silver piece large enough to cover both his tea and Lan Wangji’s meal on the table and bows once before leaving.

With the clench of his heart significantly loosened at the prospect of seeing Wei Ying, Wangji tucks back into the dishes in front of him. They’re suddenly much more appetising.

---

The sun has slid below the hills of Yunmeng when the doctor returns. In the dim glow of the candles, the man looks older, more serious. When you are sneaking an outsider into your clan’s compound one must be serious, Wangji supposes.

There’s a hole in the back wall, Xiuying explains quietly, Wei Wuxian put it there. One needs only their sword to open it. Use your blade and write dao, the bricks will fall away. They will seal up behind you but jian will set you free.

Wangji knows why Wuxian had chosen these words. He’d said multiple times, our greatest thief is the one in the mirror.

We are our own enemies. This, Wangji knew deeply.

The stone blocks peel away silently to let him pass. The courtyard on the other side is compact and completely deserted. In the corner is a small jiashan rock surrounded by a pond. A few malnourished lotus rise from it and Wangji hopes there are no koi living in the murky waters. The only building with access to this retreat is small, much smaller than the jingshi. From behind the shoji screen, a candle flares to life. A rush of fear tightens his muscles and he ducks beneath the coarse branches of a pine. In quick succession, the light flashes once, twice, three times.

They must be the person I am supposed to meet.

As he approaches the door, a voice behind it takes him by surprise. “You can come in, Lan-ergongzi.” So he does, stepping over the threshold with the quiet rustle of robes.

A young woman uses her tiny candle to light a larger candelabrum and the glow washes the room with warmth. His eyes wander from her to the space around him, this must be Wei Ying’s quarters. The shoji screens are delicately painted with trees and plum blossoms while a pair of dragons soar together from end to end. He must have done this himself, Wangji considers thinking of the hand-painted lantern set aloft from Cloud Recesses.

In the snug room, the desk is stacked high with talisman papers and scrolls. Calligraphy brushes hang neatly from a rack, their bristles dry and fraying from months without care. In the opposite corner, Wei Ying’s bed is surrounded by low shelves packed with bamboo strip manuscripts, their storage bags simple and unadorned. It’s a room so perfectly fitting of his personality and only serves to make Wangji’s heart ache more. How had this man created such an unfillable void in his life so quickly? When had he ever rushed into a decision as rashly as he did with Wei Ying?

The more people in the Jiang Clan he meets, the more he realises all the places his friend’s unruly influence has permeated. The doctor’s method of smuggling the man into the compound prepared him to meet this young woman, Cang Luoyang, who is a groundskeeper. She tends to the many lotus plants in the canals of the compound and from her seemingly endless knowledge of places to hide, it’s clear she has spent a lot of time with Wei Ying.

A surge of rueful jealousy rushes in his veins. Wei Ying had annoyed him at first meeting, always knowing exactly how to ignite his nerves and so he had stayed away. But now, standing in the room the man had grown up in, surrounded by people who watched him grow up, he found himself wishing he had been a part of the man’s life for longer.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to cover yourself with this, Lan-ergongzi.” She apologises, pulling out a dark grey outer robe. He’d already removed his silvered hairpiece, leaving just the binding ribbon. “White will stand out against the dark evening. Once you make it to the physician’s quarters, you can take it off.”

“I understand completely. Thank you for helping me.” He bows low, feeling his headband tighten with the movement from its temporary place bound on his wrist.

Luoyang laughs quietly, “Wei Wuxian has helped me more times than I could count and if I can repay even a single one with this, I would do it in a heartbeat. Come on.”

She doesn't mention his lack of headband, and Wangji is ever grateful for it. It was sacred to his clan and to remove it, a serious matter. Shufu would have scoffed at such a frivolous reason as if Wei Ying was of no importance… which is exactly what Shufu thought of him. Nothing special, just an unruly boy, last remnants of parents who traded this world for one of their own.

It seems that she has also learned Wei Ying’s physicality. Every time they encounter another person, she pushes him into any nearby corner, room, or niche with a hastily-whispered sorry. After the third time, he wishes he had just climbed up to the rooftops instead. The physician’s quarters are near the training hall at the front of the compound, far from the inner sanctum where Jiang family members like Wanyin and Yanli lived. Wei Ying’s are even further still, in the most secluded corner of the estate as if tacked on last minute and forgotten.

Painstakingly slowly, they make it to the familiar entrance. The woman turns to him and gives a deep bow, “thank you Lan-ergongzi.”

“There is no need for your thank you, dajie. You have been a great help getting me here.”

“You are good to him. For that, the few of us he calls friends are eternally grateful. Most others would not extend such kindnesses.”

“It is not kindness. It is friendship. I am honoured to call Wei Wuxian a friend.” More than a friend, his heart stubbornly reminds him.

An odd expression glances off Luoyang’s face before settling. “Make sure you tell him that.”

Chapter Text

Jiang-guniang is sitting at her brother’s bedside when he quietly slides open the door. She’s whispering something gentle into the man's ear and immediately he starts to retreat. This is a moment not to be shared or overheard by outsiders. But before he can step out the threshold, the woman’s louder voice catches him off guard.

“Lan-ergongzi, please come join me.”

He steps forward and gives a polite bow to her which she returns with a nod. Glancing over Wei Ying’s frail and slumbering form, he looks, really looks, across the wide range of bandages for the first time. There’s a sickening variety of punishments all strategically inflicted in places that clearly spoke of torture, not accident. Wherever he had been, someone had been keeping him there.

His fingernails were ragged and bleeding, like he was forced to drag his unwilling body across the ground. Maybe he had.

Taking one of Wei Ying’s bruised and bloody hands in his own, he wets a cloth and washes the skin. Later, he could find a filing stone and sort out the man’s nails but right now, he just needed to feel close to him. Three months had passed and the absent space beside Lan Wangji had felt cavernous, inescapable. Now the space had been filled again, if only by a small candle. It would take nurturing and tending to grow into its once-inferno.

The hand in his twitches and he nearly drops it in his shock. A small groan slips from the laying man’s lips and his eyes open just a sliver.

He can’t hide the relief in his voice, “Wei Ying?!”

“Lan Zhan? Your forehead is so big.”

“A-Xian! You can’t say things like that!” Jiang-guniang scolds gently from behind him and Lan Wangji self-consciously lets go of Wei Ying’s hand. He shifts to the side to let the woman in to see her brother.

“Shijie? You’re here too?”

“Of course I am, A-Xian. You’re back home, in Lotus Pier.”

The man’s brow scrunches in confusion, “Home? How did I get home? I was…” But his voice fades before he can finish the sentence.

“We were hoping you might know the answer to that question. Lan-ergongzi found you in the courtyard.”

“I don’t- Shijie, I don’t, I don’t-” Wei Ying’s voice is agitated and there’s a torment in his eyes that stings.

“Hush, A-Xian. It’s okay, you don’t need to have the answers right now. Right now, you just need to rest.” With a gentle touch, she reaches to brush a greasy lock of hair aside from his face but the man startles so sharply Wangji’s sword arm clenches automatically. Wei Wuxian throws himself further away on the bed, out of the reach of her touch.

“Wei Ying? Should I send for the physician?”

From his tight form, he shakes his head, “No, no. I just need to be alone for a minute. Can you, can you just go?”

If her brother’s strange behaviour alarmed Jiang Yanli, she gave no reaction. She could be a Lan with this level of emotional control. With a quiet grace, she stands up and adjusts her robes before placing a folded blanket on the bed beside her brother.

“Of course, A-Xian. Lan-ergongzi will be in the next room if you need him, okay? I’ll have the kitchen send up some food for you both.”

The door slides shut behind her and the high emotions seem to deflate.

“Lan Zhan?” His voice is so unsure and Wangji feels his heart shudder.

“Mn?”

“I-” Wei Ying starts to say but his eyes lock onto the other man’s odd attire and his focus shifts. “Why are you wearing grey?”

He hesitates, unsure of how to broach this subject. Rule seventy-eight, do not use frivolous words. “Jiang Wanyin has banned me from Lotus Pier.”

Some of Wei Ying’s old fire flickers in his eyes, “He what?!”

“Your physician and a groundskeeper assisted in sneaking me in but I needed a disguise to cover my robes.”

“I knew he disliked the Lan but to do that, that’s nearly a declaration of war…” He laughs abruptly. It’s harsh and tainted with acerbity. “The great Lan-ergongzi, breaking the rules of two sects just to come visit the child of a servant. If your uncle could see you now.”

“Wei Ying is not just the child of a servant.” Not to me, he adds mentally.

A peculiar expression crosses Wuxian’s face like he can’t decide whether to make a joke or not. In the end, he decides against it and the exhaustion can be seen sinking in.

“I will leave you now. I’m residing in the room next door for the time being. Do not hesitate to ask should you need something.”

Wei Ying nods instinctually, eyes fixed at his feet.

“Wei Ying,” He finds himself saying, “I am glad you are back.”

---

It’s nearing dawnbreak when he first hears it. It sounds like singing, quiet and mournful, and it’s coming from the other room. He leaps out of the bed and peers around the screen.

The melody is familiar but it's not the harmonious refrain he had written it to be. Wangxian was meant as a love song; but this, this is a desperate lullaby.

Wei Ying lays in bed, moonlight glinting off the sweat on his forehead. He’s still asleep, singing like it is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Wei Ying, wake up.” The man does not wake but his brow crinkles. He raises his voice a little more but dares not touch him, “Wei Ying.”

The man finally stops, the last few notes of Wangxian despondent. It’s too quiet in the compound to play Rest or Clarity on the qin but oh how Wangji wants to soothe the man’s mind. His voice is soft as he sings in return, replacing the ghostly love song with the calming rise and fall of Clarity. He repeats the piece three times before Wei Ying finally stirs.

Wei Ying throws himself upright and his breath huffs out quickly, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!”

“I’m here, Wei Ying. I’m here.”

Eyes blown wide with fear catch his and Wangji lets go of a trapped breath.

Desperate to evade any questions about what just occurred, Wei Ying immediately pats the man’s silk-shrouded arm and laughs awkwardly, “Ahaha, I’m okay Lan Zhan. Just a bad dream. You can go back to bed… Really, Lan Zhan, I’m fine.” He adds when the man just narrows his eyes.

“Mn.” Wangji hums before standing. “Wake me if you require anything.” It is clear no answers will come tonight.

Night ebbs into morn without interruption and he wakes at maoshi as normal. After a few minutes of meditation, the door slides open.

“Ah, Lan-ergongzi. Please come join me, I brought the morning meal.”

Lan Wangji quickly affixes the guan in his hair, realising he is in need of a wash, and straightens out his clothing. He can change into fresh robes after breakfast. The doctor has brought plain zhuzhou, clearly familiar with Lan culinary traditions. There’s more than enough for the three of them, should Wei Wuxian awake. But knowing his sleeping habits well, that isn’t expected until much closer to midday.

“I trust your night was hopefully decent. The infirmary is not nearly as opulent as the guest quarters but having spent a few nights here myself, I would say it is not terrible.”

Wangji just nods and the doctor suddenly laughs, “Oh, I forget myself. The Lan observe silence during meals. I apologise for my conduct, Lan-ergongzi.”

Once again, a nod. The rest of the meal passes quickly and after he sets his spoon down, “May I ask one more favour?”

“Of course.”

“May I have use of your bathing facilities?”

“Yes, absolutely. My quarters are in the next building. I’ll have someone bring water and a bath in at once.”

“Thank you, Tie-daifu. Your hospitality has been exceptionally kind.” Wangji dips his head in gratitude and the other man flashes a smile back before sweeping out of the room.

For the first time since waking, Wangji looks over at Wei Ying’s form. The mass of blanket tangled around him shows signs of more restless sleep. He straightens it out, being careful not to touch skin. The man’s hair is a mess, frayed and dry. It will take much care and attention to achieve the soft shine it once had been. Perhaps Wei Ying will let me help…

By the time he has arranged his qiankun pouch, removed the guan from his hair, and donned the grey outer robe disguise, the porter has filled the tub with water.

On a stool beside the steaming tub, there is a fresh cloth and piece of soap. The soap, unsurprisingly, smells of lotus flowers. It’s a warm scent, earthy and sweet. Having only used the lightly scented soaps from his own clan, it’s an appreciated luxury.

His washing is methodical and efficient. He has already used too much of the doctor’s generosity, wasting time in the bath would be inconsiderate. And also, he reminds himself, Wei Ying is in the other room and could wake at any moment.

Once his body is fully dry, he pulls on the dark blue silk robe he purchased yesterday. It stands out stark against the pale of his skin and the white of his outer hanfu; a subtle streak of rebellion. He can imagine Shufu’s face, offended at such an indulgent colour and Xichen’s tender smile, proud of his brother for choosing to bend (but not break) a clan rule.

His brother had sent him letters, asking him to return to Cloud Recesses but Wangji found that he hadn’t wanted to go.

He had visited a few times in the last months, when hunts and searches had brought him close enough, but the quiet sanctuary was too quiet now. Not when Wei Ying had still been missing. The man had been a balancing force of noise and chaos in his quiet life. Even when not directly at his side, his influence was there. In the three months, the stillness of his home had become oppressive.

Wei Ying has awoken by the time the Lan returns. He remains lying down but turns his head as the door slides open.

“Ah Lan Zhan, there you are.”

“Wei Ying, how are you feeling?”

“Hungry.”

Lan Zhan smothers a smile. If he was hungry, it meant he truly was feeling better. Only if he refused to eat did it become concerning. Wei Ying tried to hide his hurts beneath carefully polished smiles but his stomach spoke differently. “Tie-daifu brought zhuzhou this morning. It should still be warm.”

He collects a bowl and fills it with the porridge before sitting on the edge of the bed. Wei Ying presses his elbows into the thin mattress to hoist himself up but his arms prove too weak and he collapses back down. Wangji’s strong arms wrap around his bony shoulders and pull him into a sitting position. As the man resumes his place beside Wei Ying, an unusual flash of colour catches the man’s eye.

“You’re wearing Yunmeng blue…” Wei Ying’s thin fingers probe along his collarbone, stroking the edge of dark blue that stands out. Lan Wangji’s throat bobs, swallowing a thousand different thoughts at the movement. He remains still as a statue, worried that any movement on his own part would frighten the man away like a rabbit. The fingers ghost along his neck and down, tracing the carefully embroidered cloud patterns. They stop at the top of his sternum where the layers of his robes intersect. Wei Ying’s eyes remain fixed at that point for a moment before he drops his hands, clearly embarrassed to have been caught staring. The second the touch disappears Wangji wishes it had never ended.

“I was in town yesterday and purchased this from a silk weaver. You were right, lotus silk is exquisite.” He reaches into the qiankun pouch attached to his belt and extracts the bundle of red silk. “This one is for you. You needed a new one since your others have been… soiled.”

It’s a much too kind way of saying his robes had been absolutely mangled but Wei Ying finds himself chuckling as he reaches out to take Lan Zhan’s gift.

“Are you teasing this poor helpless man’s clothes?”

“I would never tease Wei Ying.”

“That is a downright lie and you know it, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.”

There’s a pause and Wei Ying looks down at the gift in his hands, the material cold and smooth. It suddenly seems to be more than just some fabric. It’s a representation of a friendship, of something more, that goes far beyond this moment, this room, even this lifetime.

“Thank you, Lan Zhan. For the robe, for everything.”

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Ha, I had to. Nobody else was going to annoy you as much as me so I had to fill in that role. Besides, Zewu-jun asked me to keep an eye on you. We all know how much of a troublemaker you really are, Hanguang-jun.”

A simple eyebrow raise on the Lan’s face causes him to give a small melodic laugh. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world to Wangji after three months of disquiet. They settle into silence for a moment before he pushes the bowl of zhuzhou into Wei Ying’s hands. “You need to eat. I will play qin for you.”

By now, Lotus Pier is sufficiently noisy that his music will be unnoticed. Wangji flips his sleeves back as he settles down before his qin. Without even thinking, he begins the opening notes of Wangxian, trying to forget the hopeless lullaby version Wei Ying had hummed only the night before.

“Lan Zhan,” Wuxian whines, voice tight with pain, “anything but that, please anything but that.”

Oh how that stings. But his face is impassive, pressing down the hurt before Wei Ying can see it through him. Feigning effortlessness, he transitions into Clarity.

The other man visually relaxes, muscles uncoiling from their sudden tension. He brings a spoonful to his mouth and eats the porridge. The bowl is cleaned easily. And the next, and the next.

Wei Ying’s laugh breaks abruptly through the music. “Eating more than three bowls is prohibited,” he comments, quoting the Wall of Discipline, “For once I should probably follow that rule. I haven’t eaten this good in three months.”

Well that certainly alarms Wangji. If he thought plain zhuzhou was good without any chili oil, clearly something in these last months had changed him.

“Wei Ying, were you being held somewhere? By someone?”

“You could say that... Ah, it’s okay, I’m okay, Lan Zhan. I’m here now, alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Not to me, not if you were being held against your will.” Wangji moves to stand in front of the bed, expression serious.

“It’s fine. It’s all in the past.”

“No it is not, Wei Ying. You were missing for three months, people presumed you dead. Jiang Yanli spent hours on her knees in the ancestral hall for you. Jiang Wanyin sent search party after search party for you.” I played Inquiry for you, hoping - praying - those strings would not move from the touch of your ghostly fingers, he doesn’t add.

Wei Ying leaps up to meet him, eyes red-rimmed and fierce. “I wasn’t, okay?! I wasn’t being held against my will. I was in control the entire time. Does that make you happy, Lan Wangji? To know that?”

This outburst comes with a number of realisations, all of which alarm the Lan:
One, why had Wei Ying disappeared for three months on his own volition? Did he not realise they were in the midst of a war? Did he not realise I needed him?

Two, where had he been that nobody had seen him or heard of him? Surely he could not have made all the way to Dongying and back in that time? And why had he been eating so poorly?

And three, his courtesy name in Wei Ying’s mouth sounds more like a curse than anything he had ever heard before. He had never heard the man use his full name before and he doesn’t care to ever again.

But when he looks closer at the man, he can see him trembling madly. He is shaking, his eyes shut, head starting to toss as whips of black smoke curl around his cheekbones.

“Wei Ying?!”

The ebony flute they had found in his sleeve quivers from its place on the low table. Eyes snap open, desperation lacing their delicate colour.

“Lan Zhan... help me.” The plea is raw, gut-wrenching.

He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know what is happening. But Wei Ying needs help, he needs help. Clarity is a song every Lan must know, Wangji has worn his fingers bloody time and time again learning this song. He has spent hours hunched over his qin, perfecting the swells and retreats. He knows this music by heart and yet now, faced with urgency, he is suddenly uncertain. Is this what Wei Ying needs? Am I capable of helping him the way he requires? What if I am not? There is no other Lan here, no one else with better qin skills, no xiongzhang or shufu. If I cannot provide what he needs, he will what? He will die? Survived three months in nowhere only to die here because I cannot play the song his soul needs to heal?

The notes are precise, laced with every ounce of his golden core he can give. The song is powerful and only plays once before Wei Ying’s body slowly untenses; as soon as it does, he is dashing out the infirmary door to heave up his breakfast into the lotus beds. Wangji finds himself beside the kneeling man before he can even realise it.

“Wei Ying? What has happened?”

Another voice, high and feminine interrupts him, “A-Xian? A-Xian, are you alright?” Jiang Yanli dropped down beside the pair, reaching out to touch her brother before thinking better of it. Her hand hangs awkwardly in the air. Wei Ying sits back on his heels, swaying as he goes. His face is pale and drawn as if all the rest he had gotten was sapped away in a single moment.

“Come, come, A-Xian, let’s get both of you inside.” The woman offers, looking at Wangji with the last remark. Once her brother is situated back on the low bed, she holds a cup of water to his lips in silent instruction to drink. He does so, dutifully obeying his sister. His eyes meet Wangji and the message, do not tell my sister what just happened, is received loud and clear.

“I guess my stomach isn’t used to eating this much.” He comments and his sister makes a low noise.

“Well, we’ll just have to work on that, A-Xian. I’ll make a bunch of soups.”

There’s a trace of Wei Wuxian’s old joy in his voice, “Oh shijie, I love your soups.”

“Maybe Lan-ergongzi can join us for meals.” Her smile is knowing and makes Wangji’s ears blush pink. “I plan on speaking further to my brother about your indelicate expulsion from Lotus Pier.”

Wangji gives a respectful bow, “Thank you, Jiang-guniang. Your generosity and kindness is greatly appreciated.” His eyes flash to the man sitting on the bed, “especially towards Wei Wuxian.”

“I am simply repaying the favour. I remember my time in Cloud Recesses being full of the same. And as for A-Xian, he is my brother… no matter what my mother says.” There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes that reflects in Wei Ying’s. Buried memories resurfacing, experiences lived in a lifetime Wangji had not been privy to.

The door behind them flies open, startling the three occupants. A young woman stumbles in, her clothes that of a disciple but she carries no sword. She does not bow nor feign apologies. Urgency is written in every line of her body.

“Lan-ergongzi!” The woman pants, voice struggling to keep up with her racing heart, “Jiang-zongzhu, he’s going to- daifu and Luoyang!”

Bichen rattles in his palm, responding to its master’s surge of temper. Wangji turns to Wei Ying, silently asking permission to go after his brother.

“Go, Lan Zhan, go!”

Chapter Text

Damn it. Why did that stupid Lan have to go and make this so complicated? Why of all people did my idiot brother choose him to be… friends with.

Regret is not an emotion Jiang Wanyin is familiar with. Regret makes you vulnerable, weak, unstable. But right now, regret burns like embers, an uncomfortable heat that presses against his skin and makes him want to vomit. He knows he shouldn't have expelled Lan-ergongzi earlier. But is he going to tell anyone else that? Absolutely not. If Lan-ergongzi didn't want to be expelled from Lotus Pier then he shouldn't have been so damn nosy. As if this is all the other man's fault. Screw you Wei Wuxian for making me develop a guilty conscience. Look what you got me into.

Well, now I’m the clan leader and there is nobody who can tell me to stop. Not my father, not you. I am stronger than my conscience. I am stronger than you. I am finally more powerful than you Wei Wuxian, more respected, more admired. And none of your Lan friends will stand up against me, they wouldn’t dare.

And just like that, regret kindles into fury, burning indiscriminate and vicious.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji is an avenging spirit in white as he races down corridors. Disciples jump out of his way, knowing better than to stick their noses into this.

In the main hall, Tie-daifu and Cang Luoyang kneel on the mat floor before Jiang Wanyin who sits in the lotus throne, Zidian crackling in his hand.

"You allowed an outside sect member into our compound. You showed him weak points in our security. You put us all at risk so soon after the massacre. It is unforgivable.”

“Jiang-zongzhu,” the doctor begins, dipping his head in submission, “it was my idea, please do not punish Cang-guniang for my own actions.”

“Tell me, daifu. Is Cang-guniang of sound mind?”

The man startles, clearly taken off guard by the question. He stammers, “Y-yes. She is of sound mind and health completely.”

“Then, why should I not punish her? You did not force her to participate. She could have turned you in and informed me of the plan. She chose to help Lan-ergongzi into Lotus Pier. She is as much at fault as you.”

Silence is his only response. “Both of you will be banished from Lotus Pier. Be lucky you are escaping with your lives.”

Lan Wangji has heard enough. Straightening his body, he strides into the hall. “Jiang Wanyin.”

“Lan-ergongzi, this is a private sect matter. Leave at once.”

His refusal to move is an answer written in stone.

“Lan-ergongzi, need I remind you that you are banned from Lotus Pier? I remember Gusu Lan being very strict on rules and propriety. How would your shufu feel seeing you breaking them?”

The doctor was right about the man’s tongue. Bites like a viper. He steps forward past the pair of kneeling figures and drops to his own knees. Behind him, there’s two sharp inhales of breath.

“Jiang-zongzhu, I claim responsibility for the actions of Tie-daifu and Cang-guniang. I subject myself to your punishment but do not punish them. It was my idea to enter Lotus Pier.”

A bitter, twisted laugh echoes around the room. Wangji turns his eyes up to look at the throne.

“Lan-ergongzi, no wonder my brother is so infatuated with you. You both are so dedicated to this idea of justice, I bet you would even foolishly die for it… I accept your appeal for mercy. Tie-daifu, Cang-guniang, you are excused but if I learn you broke a rule, no matter how minor, I will not be as lenient.”

“Yes, zongzhu. Thank you.” comes the chorus from behind Lan Wangji and a moment later, he is left alone to face fate.

“Stand up. Unsheath your sword. Follow me.”

Wangji follows the sect leader out to the courtyard where the other man turns to face him and unsheathes his own sword, an unspoken challenge to a duel.

He nods, acquiescing to the challenge without knowing its terms.

Duels within the jianghu, on the whole, were seen as self-seeking and egocentric. However, the way the man was simmering with rage seemed to suggest the norm would surely be ignored. Filial piety was considered the only exception to these customs but Jiang Fengmian had been killed in the massacre and Qingheng-jun succumbed to his injuries from the burning of Cloud Recesses before Wangji had even escaped the Xuanwu.

So Jiang Wanyin had no grounds - and a seemingly no moral compass - for a duel, and yet seemed intent on having one. But Wangji knew that the man had at least the vestiges of morality, having seen him defend both of his siblings as well as protect fellow cultivators as well as civilians in battle. Where had the man who earned high marks with ease at Cloud Recesses gone? Is this what the war has done to them all? Buoyant, carefree steps of childhood replaced by exhausted, battle-weary marches?

“First blood. You draw it, you can remain in Lotus Pier. I draw it, you never set foot here again.”

They exchange blows for minutes, Wangji just letting the man tire himself out. He knew he was the better swordsman, having seen the other man fight before. He knew he could overwhelm him easily.

“Stop!” comes the hoarse cry from the adjacent hallway. Hobbling on legs not yet ready, Wei Ying appears at the threshold. He clutches the column with anguish wild in his eyes, “Jiang Wanyin, what are you doing?”

“Oh of course, blame me as if your Lan Zhan had nothing to do with it.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darken at the man’s use of such a casual name. The ebony flute flashes in his hands but his brother seems to not care. The sense of dread that is flooding through Lan Wangji refuses to abate. He sheathes Bichen in an effort to show he is not a threat to whatever is about to happen. The thing that glints in Wei Ying’s eyes is not him. This is something older, darker.

In the span of a single breath, three things happen in quick succession.

One, Sandu curves maliciously towards Wangji.

Two, the high-pitched tone of a flute shrieks.

Three, an impossible shadow is cast across the courtyard.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are rimmed with red as he plays, manipulating the swirling black mass that blocks the sunlight. It hovers just above the two of them, tendrils lashing down at them. Sandu is stuck frozen in the air on its deadly arc and Jiang Wanyin’s eyes widen as he realises what has happened.

The melody is shrill and spectral, resonating deep in their bones. It sounds wrong.

One of the tendrils whips down and splits a long gash across the smooth skin of Wangji’s cheek.

“Wei Ying!”

The flute music stops at once, silence cascading upon them. Wei Wuxian stumbles back a few steps and Wangji darts forward to catch his elbow. The man suddenly looks decades older than he should be, eyes full of so much more sorrow than they ever should have to hold. A shaking hand reaches up to probe at the weeping wound on the other man’s cheek.

“Your brother is going to kill me for that…” he whispers and sinks into Wangji’s arms, slipping beneath the waves once more.

The clatter of a sword hitting stone echoes behind him. “What just happened?” Jiang Wanyin asks, voice breathless in shock. After the man’s shameless behaviour, Wangji does not give him the dignity of a response. In an alarming repeat of yesterday, he lifts Wei Ying’s body into his arms and heads in the direction of the infirmary.

Approaching the doors, he hears two familiar voices inside. It’s a hushed conversation but distressing enough.

“He’ll be alright, Luoyang. He’s a cultivator.”

“But he took punishment for us. We committed treason against the clan. He could be killed!”

“Even Jiang-zongzhu wouldn’t dare execute a Lan, let alone a Twin Jade.”

Adjusting his hold on Wei Ying, he nudges the door open with a toe. The conversation behind immediately stops and is replaced with a shocked gasp.

“Wei-gongzi?!”

“Set him down on the bed. What happened?”

Wangji’s lips press into a thin line for a moment before he speaks. “Jiang-zongzhu challenged me to a duel. Wei Wuxian broke it off and then collapsed.”

The doctor’s hands flurry around examining the array of bandages. None seem to have blood on them so they haven’t reopened, luckily. “It looks like he just collapsed from exhaustion. His body wasn’t ready for what I’m sure was a troublesome situation.”

Luoyang inhales sharply when she catches sight of Lan Wangji.

“Lan-ergongzi, your face!”

In his haste to get Wei Ying to the physician, he’d forgotten about the gash on his cheek. It steadily bleeds, a solitary tear track of blood down to his chin. Tie-daifu turns around at the exclamation and then quickly busies himself with finding supplies.

“There is no need, Tie-daifu. It is just a minor injury. Wei Ying is more important.”

The man just waves a hand dismissively, “He just needs rest. He’ll be fine. I want to clean your wound though. Please sit.”

There’s no use arguing with him so he does just that, settling his tall frame onto a nearby stool. It’s quick work of washing off the blood before the doctor packs a salve into it. It stings at first but settles.

“You can wash the salve off tomorrow. It should heal perfectly fine in a matter of a few days. Try to avoid any more sword fights for a while.” The man chides playfully before his expression turns serious. He lowers himself to his knees and bows deep to the Lan. “Thank you, Lan-ergongzi, for accepting punishment for us. It was a merciful and gracious thing to do and we are honoured by your bravery.”

“Tie-daifu, please rise. I should be thanking you. I merely stepped in to protest the unfair treatment of innocents. You have cared for Wei Wuxian greatly and taken every step to ensure his comfort, even if it means violating sect rules. That is what bravery should be.”

The kneeling man nods, knowing there is no use in arguing the point further. He pulls himself to his feet and grabs Luoyang’s shoulder from where she had been standing silently to the side.

“Come on, Yang-xiaomei. We will leave you to rest now, Lan-ergongzi.”

---

Attempts at afternoon mediation are futile. The thoughts in his head are wild curls of wind whistling atop mountain peaks, unfettered and blustery. They are not the careful calligraphic strokes he had become accustomed to, a well-known path of ink and paper he can press weight into without unfurling.

His hands move without noticing, calling Wangji into his lap. The instrument’s wood gleams beneath his gentle touch, feeling silk strings settle into familiar calluses on his fingertips. This is not the only guqin he has ever had but it is the only one he will ever need. It is embedded in his soul, to lose it would be to lose his very essence.

He’s been working on a new piece and despite a great deal of time spent practicing, it is still not as refined and polished as it should be. The melody wasn’t right, the bridge too disjointed and unwieldy.

A knock on the wooden door frame adds a discordant rhythm to the piece and irritation stirs in his chest, “Yes?”

“Apologies for disturbing you, Lan-ergongzi. Jiang Wanyin requests that you join him in the reception hall. A messenger arrived with urgent news.”

His trip to the main hall is much slower this time, walking at his usual pace rather than at a run.

The man is dressed in pale greens, identifying him as a neutral messenger, not affiliated with any of the major clans. His hair is pulled fully up into a travelling bun, the guan carved of warm rosewood. Kindness and inner beauty crowned upon his head. Interesting choice for a messenger.

Jiang Wanyin challenges him the moment his foot crosses the threshold, “Lan-ergongzi, for some reason my sister insisted that you be present for this. Don’t make me regret it.” He turns to the messenger, “Speak.”

“Jiang-zongzhu, Lan-ergongzi, I bring news that Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu are dead.”

“What? By who? The Jins?”

“They do not know. Their bodies were flayed by some type of weapon. The wounds are too thin to have been from any known sword, unless it was incredibly sharp.”

The gash on his cheek stings abruptly and he barely resists reaching up to touch it. Could Wei Ying have done it? No, his injuries were too severe to have killed both Wen Chao and Zhuliu singlehandedly. And Wei Ying still had his core, right? Zhuliu would have melted it before Wei Ying even had a chance to strike. Wangji hadn’t checked for the man’s blinding core, assuming it would take an ocean to drown its light.

“Jin-zongzhu, Zewu-jun, and Chifeng-zun have all been summoned to Lotus Pier to discuss the situation as the Sunshot Campaign still fights.”

“They will arrive in two days time. You’re dismissed, qianbei.”

Turning to follow the messenger out, Wangji’s eyes catch on the hastily repaired building around him. Falsely put together, barely holding on, just enough to look safe.

“We haven’t had much time to rebuild.” Jiang Wanyin begins without realising. Wangji stops in his tracks and turns around. “Going from the massacre directly into the midst of a war has not afforded us a great deal of time for reconstruction efforts.”

There’s a pause, as heavy as fallen snow. The Jiang man grinds his teeth, “Lan-ergongzi, I would appreciate it if you would not mention our disagreement in the courtyard to any members of the clans. I’m afraid your brother already holds a certain dislike towards me and I need not add to it. You will be allowed to remain in Lotus Pier.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying is still asleep when he returns to the chambers in the evening, curled up against the back of the bed. It doesn’t look comfortable, it looks… protective. As if hiding himself from something - someone - and Wangji supposes, he probably is. The man had just returned from who knows where, having been through who knows what. The darkness had followed him home, pervasive even in his sleep.

Wangji feels out of control of his body, he’s never felt this way, not this strongly. He can’t stop himself from laying down beside the man despite simultaneously reciting dozens of Lan rules that tell him otherwise. The bed is just enough for each of them to not touch, but his heart aches to reach out and grab the man’s warm hand.

No, no. He scolds himself, biting in the inside of his cheek to break his head out of this thought. Because he knows he won’t be able to stop himself ever again if he allows himself this once. He will not touch the man without his consent, even something as simple as this.

With the steady cadence of Wei Ying’s breath as a lullaby, he finally sleeps.

He is vastly more aware when he wakes, launching himself out of bed as he realises what has transpired. A soft thump behind him has him looking down to see a forehead ribbon laying abandoned. His hand moves on instinct, sweeping to pick the sacred item from the floor. But attempts to tie it back into its place faces resistance. He tracks the white silk from his hand back towards the bed and...

Wei Ying is holding his ribbon. It’s clutched in his hand, having grasped ahold of it in sleep. Did he not know of its importance? That day in the Cold Pond Cave, he knew, right?

Wangji cannot free the fabric from the man’s hand who has it woven through his fingers but he cannot leave the chambers without it. So once more, he settles down to practice the new guqin piece in the quiet of the early morning.

To an outsider, it probably sounds perfect. But to his ears, something just isn’t quite right with it. He doesn’t get far in trying to root out that problem before there’s a knock on the door.

Jiang-guniang’s voice is muffled as she asks to enter. He is half-dressed, hair undone, and forehead bare.

He moves to stand just behind the still-closed door, “My apologies, Jiang-guniang but I am not fully dressed and it would be improper.”

“I understand. I do not mean to disturb your morning, Lan-ergongzi. I merely came by to invite both of you to a midday meal. A-Xian’s favourite soup has been cooking all night and I would very much enjoy your presence with him.”

“I would be honoured. Wei Yi-Wuxian has spoken very highly of your cooking prowess.”

Wangji can hear the smile in the woman’s voice as she instructs him where to find her later. There’s a pause where he thinks for a moment she has gone but her voice, delicate and quiet, filters in, “You have saved him, Lan-ergongzi. I do not think you realise just how much.”

His stomach twists painfully at the words, reminding him of how they had survived the Xuanwu cave, of the shameful way he left without a goodbye, and of how far they had fallen since.

He had not saved Wei Ying. He had only prolonged the wound.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying to heal it.

Chapter Text

Lunch is an… interesting affair. Jiang Wanyin and Lan Wangji sit across from each other, trading tense glances.

The peace between them is tenuous at best but Wei Ying and Jiang-guniang pretend not to see the looks and carry on through conversation topics.

“Lan-ergongzi, your qin playing is exceptional. I enjoy hearing it in the mornings. My father once tried to teach me xiao but gave up attempting. I’m afraid I’m not very musically talented.”

“I’m sure my brother would be thrilled to teach you. He is always looking for new students. Despite his best attempts, xiao is… not very popular at Cloud Recesses.”

The smile she gives him is easy and filled with warmth, “I’d like that very much, thank you.”

The serving she hands him has kindly had the meat removed, relocated to her brothers’ bowls and it seems that all of Wei Ying’s praise of the woman is well worth it. The soup is hearty and heavily scented with many of the peppers native to the Yunmeng region. His tolerance of spice must have been accurately communicated to the woman as it is not overly spicy and just nips at his tongue.

On the table before them, in an innocent porcelain bowl sits a dangerously red paste. If Wangji hadn’t been able to determine what it was from the smell alone, the copious amounts Wei Ying was shovelling into his bowl was enough to keep him far, far, away from it. Jiang Wanyin had added some to his bowl as well but a much smaller quantity, looking faintly disgusted at his brother’s reddened broth.

“How can you eat that? Can you even feel your mouth anymore?”

“A-Cheng, leave him alone.” his sister scolds playfully. Wei Ying sticks out his spice-laden tongue towards his brother who in return clenches his chopsticks so tightly they nearly crack.

With some easing from Jiang-guniang, the conversation transitions to the affairs of the clan and city. “Su Yahui and Liao Song finally started courting.”

“They have? Took them long enough!”

As they continue to mention names the Lan clearly would not recognise, Wei Ying explains it for him. He didn’t ask for this but he is grateful for it. It is a glimpse into the life of Wei Ying before he knew him, an inclusion into a different kind of family.

… Su Yahui owns the apothecary and Liao Song grows peppers. They’ve been dancing around their feelings for each other for years…

… Oh, Lan Zhan, Xun-ayi lives in the house on the water with all the flowers in the windows. She loves flowers and everyone always brings her some. I don’t know her real name, she’s always just been Xun-ayi…

And despite his first impressions, Lan Wangji finds himself enjoying the experience. Sure, Jiang Wanyin is still icy, but the other two ignore it as if nothing but a common occurrence (which it very well may be). Wei Ying’s content smiles as he chats make the Lan willing to do anything to see them again. It makes him nostalgic for something he never has, a connection, a chance at an existence he was never given.

Peace never lasts however and it is not long before a servant approaches bearing a report from the physician. Jiang-guniang tactfully excuses herself before her youngest brother can make some underhanded remark about her gender and constitution. The remaining trio retreat to the Lan’s guest quarters, eager to hear of what the doctor has since discovered.

The document, multiple sheets long, details the causes of death of the pair complete with diagrams drawn out in precise ink. The entirety of the document could be boiled down into just three sentences:

Each inflicted wound was careful, suggesting strategic torture or lingchi. The two Wens bled out from their wounds, slowly. It would have taken them nearly an hour to die, given the sharpness of the unknown weapon.

As Jiang Wanyin rolls the parchment once again, his face sets into a grim mask. “Wei Wuxian, this had to be from you. No one else can create these kinds of wounds. They match the one on Lan-ergongzi’s face. The one you caused.”

“No… no. I can’t have- I don’t remember- no, no, no! I wouldn’t do that, Lan Zhan, please you have to believe me, it doesn’t work that way, I wouldn’t-”

He starts to list backwards and Wangji’s quick motion pulls him down into a chair, forcing his head between his legs.

“Breathe, Wei Ying. You must breathe.”

“Lan Zhan,” The desperation in his voice is a foreign timbre. “I wouldn’t have done that. I hated Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu but I wouldn’t have done… have done that!”

“At least not consciously.”

Wei Ying’s head whips up at his words, “what?!” Betrayal is burning in his eyes that strikes to the heart of everything Wangji has done to help the man.

“Resentful energy, it can control you just as you control it. Your feelings towards Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu manifested into actions. It controlled you, Wei Ying. Without your knowledge. Just like in the courtyard the other day.”

Jiang Wanyin rears back and Zidian snaps purple around his fist. “Lan-ergongzi, are you saying that Wei Wuxian caused this with just his flute?”

“Mn.”

“Lan Zhan, what-... what should we do?” Wei Ying was a man who would laugh until his blood ran dry and walk until his bones crumbled to dust. To see him so shaken, so scared, chilled Lan Wangji. What had this unflappable man been through that to unnerve him so? What secrets lay behind the false smiles and bright eyes?

Before he can form an intelligent response, Jiang Wanyin interjects, “We cannot allow the other sect leaders to see the bodies. They must believe you ran them through with your sword and nothing more. Do you hear me, Wei Wuxian? No mention of your flute, or where you were, none of that.”

“I agree with Jiang Wanyin.”

“Lan Zhan, you agree with Jiang Cheng? That’s a first.” He laughs, too sharp like he knows it’s wrong but he cannot stop himself.

“Wei Ying- It is for your own protection. If they knew what you, if they knew… they would harm you.”

A hand on his sleeve interrupts him, “It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I understand.”

A mildly disgusted noise cuts through their moment and they both turn to see Jiang Wanyin avoiding eye contact. “I have sect matters to attend to. I will see you both later. Remember, Wei Wuxian, you must not let anyone know what truly happened.”

They are left alone in the guest chambers and there’s a question Wangji has been wanting to ask and while there is no good time for it, this may be the best choice he has.

“Wei Ying, did you lose your core?”

Silence. And then the most bitter laugh that pierces Wangji’s ears and makes them wish to bleed. It is a sound so devoid of humanity and warmth as to be almost lifeless.

“Ah Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Straight to the point as ever. Better to plunge the knife in fast than push it slowly, right?”

He takes this as a yes, despite his heart desperately hoping otherwise. His voice is hoarse as tears threaten his eyes, “What happened?”

“Does it really matter? It is gone, what more can be done?”

Yes, Wei Ying, it absolutely does matter, how can you think so little of yourself- “No.”

“No?”

“No, there is more we can do. To purge the resentful energy from you, help you heal. Meditation, I will ask xiongzhang, he can help.” Wangji turns to grab ink and a brush but a hand around his wrist pulls him back. The other man’s body language screams of distress, how could he dare think of writing right now, and he settles onto the chair beside Wei Ying.

“Please, no. Just you. I don’t want anyone else to see me, not like this.”

His response is instantaneous, “Mn. You and me only.”

“Do we need to purge... all of it?” The confusion on Wangji’s face must be evident as Wei Ying jumps to his feet and paces, “It’s just… it’s just that it filled a hole in me. When I was alone in, in that place, it was something other than the dark. I know it sounds ridiculous, even to myself, and you probably think I’m crazy, well even crazier than you already do but-” He’s rambling like all the words in his head have finally broken through a dam.

“Wei Ying, I do not think you are crazy. And I do not think it is ridiculous that you used it. You were in a horrible place, wherever it was, and it was something to rely on… but I do believe it is harming you. Wei Ying would not kill without good reason, and never so brutally. If nothing else, purging it will allow you to start over and learn how to control it. I can help you. The library has a great deal on musical cultivation, there must be something useful in it.”

“No, I can’t let you help me learn! I can’t drag you down with me. Even healing is still too close to me. You’re the Second Jade of Lan, you can’t be pulled into this mess. Think of Lan-xiansheng, of what he would do! Your title, Hanguang-jun, light-bearing, how could you carry light if you work with me and the dark!”

“My title means nothing to me. Lan Zhan is the only thing I have ever wished to be called.”

It seems this admission has thoroughly bewildered the man who falls harshly back onto the chair and stares at the Lan with a rare, beautiful kind of affection. And then in a moment, it’s gone and he looks down to the floor.

“Lan Zhan, I’m just so tired.” His head falls upon the man’s white-robed shoulder.

“Then rest, Wei Ying. I will be here.”

Chapter Text

The wound on his cheek shows no signs of healing yet, the skin still red and raw around it. But Wangji has seen infection before and he knows that this is not infection. Infection was the inflamed red halo that radiated out from the irritated skin on Wei Ying’s chest in the Xuanwu cave. Whatever this was, it whispered of magic, curses, and darkness.

The sound of a gong outside signifies that the other clan leaders have been spotted. It’s a call to attention and one he cannot ignore. Wei Ying is still asleep on the divan after their conversation the previous day and Wangji has no desire to wake him from what might be one of the few peaceful slumbers he has had, so he straightens his own robes and goes to meet the delegation alone.

Out of the grey clouds of the midday sky emerges a small cluster of figures. The dark grey figures surely come from Nie, next to them gold robes of Jin shimmer in the watery light. And behind them, separated from the group by distance and grief, is the lightest of blue. Xiongzhang. There’s a small part of him that is deeply grateful he came rather than shufu. Even though his brother is the clan leader in title, shufu still enjoys sticking his nose into clan matters uninvited. He did not want to have to deal with the man’s dislike of Wei Ying, it would surely push him over the edge.

Details start to sharpen as the figures grow closer until their feet clatter onto the gravel of the courtyard. Swords are sheathed and pleasantries exchanged.

Nie Mingjue is direct to the point as ever, “I’m afraid I’m a little confused, Jiang-zongzhu. What exactly has happened? The messenger was very vague.”

“We can discuss the events inside.” Away from prying eyes and curious ears. “I’ve arranged for a meal to be served as you have travelled all morning.”

They are ushered inside as the clouds begin to darken with the prospect of rain. Wangji has not been assigned a table and so he hovers by the door like a shadow facing the lotus throne. Xichen flashes him a peculiar glance at his brother’s rather frigid expression, even colder than usual.

Servants bearing place settings bustle in and after an hour of the quiet clatter from porcelain and light conversation, Jiang Wanyin stands up. Instantly the room goes silent.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao are dead.”

The clan leaders burst into a clamour, “What? How? By your clan?”

“Yes. By our head disciple, Wei Wuxian.”

Xichen interjects calmly, “Jiang-zongzhu, hadn’t Wei Wuxian gone missing nearly three months ago?”

Jin Guangshan’s voice is brash over the top of the Lan leader and Wangji’s hand clenches around Bichen,“What does it matter? Two more Wens are dead! Where is Wei Wuxian? I want to congratulate him myself.”

“He’s unavailable at this moment.”

Wangji intentionally avoids his brother’s questioning look, one that knows too much.

“How were they killed? Surely Wei Wuxian could not have taken them both on at once!”

“They were killed by his sword.” The man is an excellent liar it seems, their agreed-upon cover story rolls from his lips effortlessly. “Wen Chao was previously injured and thus weakened. The attack on Wen Zhuliu was an ambush. He never saw it coming until the blade was already through his chest.”

“Jiang-zongzhu, I was unaware of the Jiang clan’s prowess with swordsmanship. It seems that Wei Wuxian is more skilled than we had first believed.”

Wangji can’t miss how Jiang Wanyin’s hand tightens around Zidian, forcing the ring to remain docile. His breath must smell awful with the quantities of vinegar he drinks.

“Yes, well, we must decide what our next steps will be with regards to the campaign. But such matters can wait until tomorrow as I am sure you are all tired from travelling. I graciously thank you for your willingness to come so quickly.” Jiang Wanyin bows and the other leaders follow suit before they are ushered away to their guest chambers but Xichen beckons Wangji to join him as they walk down to the pier. It’s a silent path, both having much to say but neither able to express it properly.

His brother sighs as they stand on the dock, the wood creaking softly beneath their feet. In the distance, lightning flashes over the top of the mountains and thunder rumbles a sombre warning. “I cannot accept that the Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu’s deaths are a symbol of victory like the other clan leaders. This feels too much like an omen, it tastes bitter.”

“Mn.”

“How is Wei Wuxian? I imagine he is well enough for you to leave him and attend the meeting today.”

“He-” the younger man starts but catches himself before he can reveal too much, “...he is fine.”

“Wangji, there is no need for half-truths between us.”

“He is physically well. But I worry about his mental state. Three months… is a long time.”

“Understandable. When you see him please let him know, that should he need it, I would be more than willing to play xiao for him. As I’m sure you have been with guqin.”

Wangji can’t find the words to respond, overwhelmed with the steady presence of his brother’s compassion, and he just nods. Xichen finally turns to look at the younger man and immediately a fire of concern burns on his face.

“Xiongdi… where did that wound come from?” A gentle hand reaches out to touch his cheek but he takes an automatic step back.

“I’m afraid I was careless in sparring with Jiang-zongzhu. He managed to nick me.” Wangji is not in the habit of lying to his brother, their bond too close for that, but this lie slides from his lips without a bitter taste. Rule thirty-two.

“Have you seen a physician? It looks rather serious.”

“Yes. They gave me a salve to treat it but it hasn’t had time to fully heal yet.”

“I’m glad. I worry about you, xiongdi. After all, who else would care for all the bunnies in Cloud Recesses if not you?”

In the midst of Wei Ying’s disappearance, the start of the war, and the massacre at Lotus Pier, Wangji had shamefully forgotten to ask after the safety of the Lan rabbits.

“They survived?” He can’t hide the shock in his voice.

His brother laughs, a lyrical thing, “Yes, they all survived. I don’t know how, but it seems many of them seem to have forehead ribbons now. Either one of the disciples has become quite keen on sewing or there’s something a little more enchanted going on.”

“Xiongzhang-” Xichen turns to look at his younger brother once more, eyes glinting with something akin to sorrow and it makes Wangji want to tear it out with his own hands. His older brother’s eyes should be filled with mischief and kindness and warmth. But instead they are teeming with grief and exhaustion. The words he had wanted to say remain on his tongue and he pushes others past,“Jiang-guniang wishes to learn xiao, if you are willing.”

And there, just for a moment, the briefest instance, Wangji can see the light spark in his brother’s eyes.

“I would be happy to.”

---

That evening, the storm finally breaks. It howls against the windows and frames of Lotus Pier. And neither of the pair can sleep. They’re still laying next to each other in the same bed, not touching, they haven’t broken that rule yet but even proximity can’t soothe their souls tonight. The latches on the windows have been sealed but their leather covers still let water in. The air is damp and thick, choking them in the dark.

A crack of thunder so loud, Wangji can hear Bichen rattle in its stand, and Wei Ying yelps. The next thing he knows, his arm is yanked into the man’s grasp as he pulls it into his chest and curls his knees around it.

It’s not… unpleasant. As if ‘not unpleasant’ can really sum up the feelings of how long he’s hungered for this into one small package. Wei Ying is chilled despite the extra layer of robes he has on and before he can realise it, Wangji reaches over with his free arm to stroke the man’s hair.

They both freeze and he retracts his hand quickly, “Wei Ying, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“No, wait, it’s okay.” The confession comes quickly, rushing out in the dark room as though the absence of light has made him braver, “Oh who am I kidding, Lan Zhan! It’s more than okay. I’ve wanted this since the first day I met you.”

“You have?”

“Yes! I asked you, remember?” He releases his hold on Lan Zhan’s arm and mimes a pair of shears against the silk sleeve. Realisation and memory bloom in the Lan’s head.

“... Oh. I was unaware of what you meant.”

“They really don’t teach you the right stuff at Cloud Recesses, huh.”

Wangji resumes his ministrations with his right hand and Wei Ying shoves himself under the left, tucking his head on the man’s chest. A thin arm curls over the top of his ribcage to pull him close and all hope of restraint is gone from the Lan’s mind. It is such a unique feeling, to feel so comforted and content. He is sure he will never sleep alone again.

Outside, the storm screams and shakes. But inside, two hearts slowly patch themselves back together with borrowed pieces of the other’s.

---

He is cold, but he is a Lan, he should not get cold. He has swam in the Cold Pond in the dead of winter and climbed the back hill through snow as high as his knees. But the bed beside him is cold and empty, and it should not be. Through the awakening fog in his brain, he can remember someone else - Wei Ying - next to him but he’s no longer there.

“Wei Ying?” He calls. There is no one else in the room. Over the steady drizzle of rain, he hears a few notes of a flute outside. Raising his voice, he calls again, “Wei Ying, come inside. It is cold, you will become ill.”

He is steadily ignored. Suppressing a sigh, he pads barefoot out to the covered porch. The flute music grows more frantic, the notes of Clarity becoming recognisable in the din. Something is wrong.

In the flashes of lightning, he can see a spectre of white across the courtyard. The figure’s clothes are too long, dragging in the mud as their arms hover near their face. And in front of them, a black mass writhes in the air.

“Wei Ying?!”

The swirling darkness jerks sharply as the melody falters for just a moment.

A moment is enough.

The energy surges towards him and he reaches for Bichen but Bichen is still tucked in its stand inside. It strikes him across the chest knocking his body backwards a step.

Lan Wangji screams.

A contingent of guards comes sprinting, their swords drawn. Through the rain they can see the great Hanguang-jun on his knees, sleeping robes wet and taut against his skin, and the man is writhing. On the other side of the courtyard, someone spots a flash of white, the shriek of flute music. Someone is attacking Lotus Pier and attacking the Second Jade of Lan.

The shout goes out, and within moments there are four clan leaders pulled from sleep and on alert.

The flute music stutters once more at the sight of them and the ghost vanishes from view. A few guards attempt to go after it, chasing the attacker towards the gates.

Wangji can hear his brother near him, but his vision is a white streak of pain. A rough hand grabs his other side and he can smell the pine smoke on clan leader Nie’s clothes.

“Wangji, Wangji!” Xichen’s voice is panicked, a shrill undertone wholly unnatural for him.

He thinks he tries to say something, but instead the world feels askew, his body convulsing violently, and the quiet of the abyss is much too tempting.

Chapter Text

Run, run. Run for your life.

Your life has always been moving, Wei Wuxian. You have always been running. From the cultivation world. From the dogs. From the Yunmeng Jiang. From the Burial Mounds.

From yourself.

And for a brief, beautiful moment, he’d had someone to grab his arm and pull him to a stop and say “it is okay to pause, to breathe.”

But even that was eventually left behind.

He’d hurt Lan Zhan. There was nothing left to do now but run.

His room looks different now, a little dustier, a little sadder, a little greyer. Like all the colour had dried out. It’s not the same and well, he supposes, flute in hand, neither am I.

Chenqing quivers in his fingers, anxiety leaching into her from him. He’s not quite sure why he came back, there’s nothing here worth taking. He can work as a rogue cultivator for money, so long as no one recognises him. He has slept on the street and scavenged for food before, he is not helpless. So why is it so hard to leave?

On one of the bookshelves, a worn book bound in deep blue leather catches his eye. He knows what’s tucked in those pages. A leaf from the Cloud Recesses garden, the fabric lid to a jar of Emperor’s Smile, an ink drawing of Lan Wangji before war hardened his young face. He tucks the book deep within the qiankun pouch nearest his heart.

A sudden call outside the door startles him but the voice is as familiar as his own skin, he would know its every mark, scar, and freckle. The bleeding pain in it, however, is something he has only heard once before in a dream. A dream so vivid as to be pulled from a page of life. A dream with a cliff, a scream, and hands just out of reach.

And somehow, despite all that he has survived, it’s the agony in that voice that makes him scared.

“Wei Ying, please don’t run away. Not again.”

Chapter Text

He hadn’t expected to wake up, to be completely honest. The pain coursing through his body has been so intense, so all-consuming, he thought his soul had burned up from the inside. So when his vision focuses on the wood beams above him, confusion is next in line.

There are two figures standing beside his bed. Both are dressed in dark robes, one with accents of silver, the other of blue. Their conversation is quiet and hushed, mentioning words that Wangji thinks might be resentful energy, core recovery.

His core thrashes against the edge of his ribcage and a muffled cry of pain escapes his lips as its tendrils scrape inside his chest. Instantly, the attention is drawn to him in an uncomfortable, hot sort of way.

It is Xichen who is dressed in the blue-accented dark robes that make him look more Nie than Lan, leaning towards his brother’s face. “Wangji, how do you feel?”

He can’t form words to respond, the air is too stifling and thick, choking him. Another voice speaks up in his place, “He is likely delirious. The fever is still quite high while his core settles.”

Xiongzhang’s voice is gentle, “Go back to sleep, xiongdi. It will be alright.”

Sleep tugs wearily on his aching and delirious body. Who is he to deny such an earnest request?

The next time he wakes, there are no dark robes standing guard, no tender words from brother to brother. Just the same beams on the ceiling and a bodily ache that screams of tension.

“Hanguang-jun, I thought I told you to stay away from here for a few days.” The doctor laughs lightly next to him. A tremor rattles down his body and the man’s brows knit in concern. “How do you feel?”

He grits his teeth against the ache of his muscles, “Cold.”

“Hmm. May I examine your core?”

“Mn.”

Warm fingers encircle his wrist and despite everything, he still tenses up. Tie-daifu forges ahead anyways.

“Your core is intact but damaged. There’s leftover resentful energy in your system that needs to be cleansed, but your core will heal completely fine. Zewu-jun is also a musical cultivator, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Have him play one of your clan’s fancy healing compositions while you flood your system with qi. It should clear up any residual energy, diluting it enough to let your core heal. And then you will need to rest for a day so you can heal. Do you want me to call for Lan-zongzhu to take you to your quarters? You’d rest better in your own bed and then you’re not using up one of mine.”

He doesn’t want to bother his brother any more than he surely already has. But as he pushes himself upright, he realises just how lightheaded he is. The doctor doesn’t need to ask again and steps away to have a servant fetch the man.

The Twin Jades stumble back to Wangji’s quarters, thankful for the midday meal bell keeping corridors relatively empty. It reminded him too much of a broken leg, a burning home, and an infinite darkness.

---

His older brother’s fingers dance across the top of the qin as memories flood Wangji’s head of a younger Xichen, with fingertips already calloused, combing through his hair. He drops his gaze to his own hands, held aloft and hazy with blue energy as they focus the notes of Clarity to soothe his core that still lashes out painfully against the remaining resentful energy.

“It was Wei-gongzi, wasn’t it.” It’s not a question. Wangji looks up sharply and his qi stutters at the interruption but Xichen remains looking down at the instrument. “Do not fear, I won’t speak to anyone. But, xiongdi, I must warn you: he is dangerous. He is not the man you want to believe he is - at least not at this moment.” The man quickly adds as his younger brother opens his mouth to defend his friend.

“How did you know?”

“Last time I checked, no one at Lotus Pier except you wears white... Where was he?”

“I do not know. He will not tell me, it is too painful for him. But the resentful energy is strong.”

“What can we do?”

Confusion flares in the air as he reads no judgement in his brother’s question, “Xiongzhang? You are going to help?”

“There is still time for him to return. Give up the dark path.”

Wangji pauses, silently questioning the offer. There is no guarantee Wei Ying would give up resentful energy. He had seen firsthand how distressed the man had become at the prospect before. And Xichen does not know Wei Ying is without a core. That knowledge would surely complicate things. As much as Wangji wants the support of his brother, the man’s gentle guidance in this, he must not be involved.

“Wei Ying is very reserved about this matter. I’m afraid your involvement would be more destructive than helpful.”

Xichen’s face crumples for just a moment before he nods. “I understand. I would like to be of help anyways. Let me know if you need help, xiongdi. This is not something one should take on alone. But I will not force myself upon the situation.”

---

“Jiang-zongzhu, where is your head disciple? Where is Wei Wuxian? Should he not be part of this conversation?” Jin Guangshan’s voice is cantankerous as it echoes in the hall, “he allowed an intruder into the compound on his watch. You have the leaders of the four great sects here, if you cannot assure our security, I will be leaving.”

“Wei Wuxian is currently occupied. He is… conducting security tests of our boundary walls. I assure you, all of you are safe in Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Wanyin glances over to Lan Xichen who is standing off to the side, silent. The other man’s eyes stare right through the lie but he does not mention it, thankfully. From here, it’s striking just how similar and yet different the man is to his younger brother. They share a few facial features but their eyes are worlds away from each other. Xichen’s are sharp, not as a knife but as a cup of bitter tea or the heat of a too-close candle. Deeply soothing and effortlessly dangerous all the same. His brother’s… well, his brother’s are just cold and calculating. Scraping the surface only yields you layer upon layer of stone, there’s no hidden warmth. And yet somehow, Wuxian sees something in them. Ugh, gross.

He leaves the hall first, the other clan members clamouring out behind him. Somehow his feet lead him to the ancestral hall, the lotus doors pulled open in the watery light after a storm, but he doesn’t enter. No, the lies on his tongue are too fresh and impure for him to enter such a sacred space. So he hovers there, foot raised near the threshold, wishing his father would just appear and tell him the right thing to do.

“Jiang-zongzhu, are you alright?” A spectre of blue has stepped up beside him.

“Thank you for your concern, Zewu-jun but I am quite alright.”

“I think we have been through enough to at least call each other by name rather than title.” the man laughs, “Xichen please, or Lan-xiong if you prefer.”

“Wanyin, then… Xichen.” He bites out between gritted teeth.

“I do not wish to intrude on the private affairs of your clan, but do you have any intention of providing sanctuary to Wei-gongzi at Lotus Pier?”

“Why? So you can reveal to the entire jianghu that we are harbouring a murderer?”

Xichen’s face twitches in confusion and ice water rushes through Jiang Wanyin’s veins. He only knows about the attack not the murders, he doesn’t know about the murders, he doesn’t know about the murders. “At least, that is what everyone believes.”

“No. I wish to bring him to Cloud Recesses, to heal.”

“Funny, your brother suggested something nearly identical.”

Xichen smiles one of those dangerously charming smiles and looks up at the washed-out sky, “Wangji cares deeply about Wei-gongzi. I cannot say I am surprised to hear that he offered such a thing.”

“It seems that you too care a great deal about my brother.”

“I often find myself at odds with the opinions of the other clans. I do not feel that Wei-gongzi is the heretic they make him out to be. He is in trouble, yes, but he is a good man.”

The evening gong chimes in the distance, echoing across the canals of the compound.

“Ah, please excuse me Wanyin. I promised I would take my dinner with Wangji tonight.” He bows and steps away.

Maybe the two brothers aren’t so different after all.

---

Xichen nudges the door to the room open with his foot, a tray of dishes in his arms. Wangji is sitting on the bed, fully dressed with his guqin on his lap. “I do not recognise this piece, xiongdi. A new composition?”

“Yes.”

“It is strong, you could use it as a cultivation piece.”

“It already has power, in a way.” He doesn’t elaborate, returning the guqin to its pouch and joining the man at the table.

“I brought dinner. Or at least, I believe it’s dinner.” Xichen frowns at the unusual ingredients in the bowls. “The kitchen staff assured me that the dishes aren’t spicy but I’m afraid I don’t know what’s in them.”

“That is lotus root. And those are silver ear mushrooms. They don’t grow in the mountains.”

“I see my brother has grown to be quite a connoisseur of Yunmeng foods.”

“I have spent time with Jiang-guniang in the kitchens. I have discovered chopping vegetables can be quite… meditative.”

The mirth in his older brother’s eyes stays for a little longer this time, just a little closer to normalcy. By the time the dishes are empty, Wangji has summoned enough courage in his throat to force out the question he has practised in his head all day.

“Xiongzhang, I do not know how much you know about… the situation, but I believe that Wei Ying is still in Lotus Pier. I was wrong when I said your help would be destructive. I have thought about it and I now believe you can help him. Would you come with me to see him?”

“Perhaps someday you can tell me how he won over your heart so fiercely.” Xichen teases lightly before turning serious, “Of course, Wangji. I only want what is best for the both of you.”

---

His brother guides him silently through a series of twisting walkways, deep into the private sections of the compound until they reach the farthest wing.

Wangji addresses the darkened room beyond the door, “Wei Ying, please don’t run away. Not again.”

There’s a pause so long Xichen is sure the room is truly empty but then, “Lan Zhan, don’t come in, I don’t want to hurt you. Please, just let me go.”

“I can’t, Wei Ying. I can’t let you go.” He slides the door open and then shuts it behind him, leaving his brother outside.

With a superfluous use of qi, Wangji lights the candles inside and a warm glow illuminates them. The other man is hunched, trying desperately to stay in the irregular shadows.

“I can’t let you go. You consume me, Wei Ying. What you’re doing to yourself terrifies me because the you I bowed with in the Cold Pond Cave, is further away than ever. I can’t let you go but I will go with you anywhere.”

Wei Ying looks stricken and stumbles a step backwards, knocking a metal stand to the floor with a clatter.

“Wangji, are you alright?” Xichen’s voice is uncertain as he darts in, pulling Shuoye from its sheath first rather than Liebing, subconscious thoughts about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation making him afraid. He knows the man is not of his right mind but he had seen Wangji screaming in the courtyard and it had looked so much like qi deviation that he believed he was about to witness his brother torn apart. Whether or not Wei-gongzi had intended to, harm had come to Wangji; and Xichen would die on his own blade first before any more harm befell his brother.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes catch sight of the sword and he bolts for the back garden. Shaking hands struggle to open the door and there’s a sharp inhale of breath from both sides of the room as the delicately-painted paper rips.

Xichen immediately sheathes the sword, “Wei-gongzi, wait! I mean you no harm.”

Fearful is something very few have ever looked when they see Xichen. He prides himself on presenting a face that portrays benevolence. But looking at Wei-gongzi, one trembling hand clutched around that dark flute, he feels a grotesque swell toss in his stomach.

Wangji’s voice is higher than normal, agony twisting his deep timbre into something wicked and wrong. “Wei Ying, please. Xiongzhang will not hurt you or turn you in. He wants to help.”

“I know this isn’t you, Wei-gongzi. I know this isn’t the mischievous, perceptive boy I met in Cloud Recesses. And I know you can’t control it, not in the way you probably once could. It is consuming you and I cannot sit idly by while that happens. It is unfair to you, and to Wangji.” He turns to look at his brother with this last phrase and sees the younger man staring at him as if Xichen holds the entirety of Wangji’s universe in his hands. It is a level of understanding so deep, it is flesh and blood.

“Wei Ying, I thought we could handle this alone. I thought you and I would be fine but I overlooked so much of what you faced. And I still don’t know what you faced, not completely, but it is so much deeper. Come back to Cloud Recesses with me, I will keep you safe. You have my promise, Wei Ying, as your best friend, as your zhiji, as whatever we are, that you will not be harmed.” It is more words than Wei Ying has ever heard the man speak but it is so full of fear that tangles itself between each character that he can't find the heart to tease him about it.

Wei Ying’s eyes drop to the ground, the gravity of all that had been revealed like a stone in his chest. “...can I bring chilli oil?”

“Yes, of course. Wei Ying can have as much as he likes.” Anxiety oozes free from Wangji like a wound left to bleed.

“Okay… okay. I’ll go.” There’s hope in Wei Ying’s eyes, real and tender, and the breath that leaves Wangji’s lungs is the clearest he has felt in a long time.

Chapter Text

The guest quarters are cold when they return, the chill of the previous night’s storm not yet abated. Dinner has been cleared away, replaced by a steaming teapot and a basin of water is on the side table for evening ablutions.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying beckons with an outreached hand. All the tension in his frame from before has melted away, leaving an outline of the young man he was before the war.

They are close now, breaths taken from the same air. Wei Ying’s thumb gently strokes across the gash on Wangji’s cheek and his lips part in a gasp as it heals underneath the ministrations, leaving nothing but pristine pale skin.

Without thinking about anything else but those lips, Wangji surges forward, pressing his own to Wei Ying’s.

The other man stumbles back for a moment and the Lan’s heart plummets, thinking this is rejection, he’s being turned away, this was too much too soon, but then fingers curl into his hair and pull him back in.

There is nothing but them in that moment. No fears, traumas, or deceits. Only lips pressed together, hearts alight with warmth, and years of wishing put to rest.

They part, panting for breath. Wei Ying smiles a bright, beautiful smile, “Aiya, Lan Zhan. I’ve dreamed of you doing that.”

“So let us do it again.” And they do.

The exhaustion in Wangji’s shoulders snaps like a bowstring, settling over him without any question. He and Wei Ying have been preoccupied for a while now to not notice the lateness of the hour. It must be past nine o’clock.

“Come on, Lan Zhan. Let’s go to bed.”

“It is still early for Wei Ying-”

“Nah, I’m tired anyways. Come on.” Wei Ying’s hand hovers over the other man’s chest unsurely.

Wangji holds it under his own and manipulates it to gently pull off his robes, leaving him in just that dark blue underrobe before doing the same to Wei Ying. He settles down in the bed first, farther from the edge, silently allowing the other the space to escape if he needs. They have slept in the same bed before but this time feels… different. There’s less unspoken unease between them, pulling them closer, tighter. Sleep tugs at his eyelids and he gives in, feeling its quiet peace, only for a knock at the door to cause Wei Ying to shift.

His hand snaps out impulsively and snags the man’s sleeve before he can leave, “Where are you going?”

Wei Ying laughs and gently peels his fingers free, “There’s someone at the door, Lan Zhan.”

“Come back to bed.”

“I will, I promise. Just let me go see who it is. It could be your brother, you know. Should I tell him all the improper things we’re doing here? Would he make me write all three thousand rules again? Pull me away from your arms like a blushing maiden?”

The knock sounds again, more urgently, and the man’s train of thought is cut off. He pulls open the door just a sliver. Wangji can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s only a brief hushed conversation before they are left alone again. When Wei Ying turns around, something is amiss. His body language, so loose and languid, was now tense and nervous. A piece of paper is tucked away in a qiankun pouch in a flash and he fumbles with the teapot on the table, his back towards the bed.

“Come on, Lan Zhan, sit up. One cup of tea. It’ll help you sleep.” Wei Ying holds the cup to the man’s lips and slowly tips it. Wangji doesn’t remember much after that, just a deep humming sleep and the chill of empty space.

---

When he wakes, he knows instantly that it was not tea. Tea doesn’t make your head pound, tea doesn’t make your throat feel like paper. Wei Ying had given him alcohol… why?

Sitting upright makes his head swim and squinted eyes roam around the room. It’s empty and so is the bed next to him. It must have been something to do with the mysterious visitor to the chambers last night. Wei Ying had changed after that, tucked something in the qiankun pouch, and then deceived him into drinking alcohol. This wasn’t a prank, or a mischievous attempt to get the man to let down his guard. No, this was intentional deceit, an attempt to take Wangji out of the picture for a night. Fury burned in his veins fueled by a hearth’s worth of grief. Just when he had thought they were getting better, that maybe they could make it out of this, Wei Ying had betrayed him and not even given him so much as a letter explaining why.

And somewhere in his head, a voice reminded him that the other man was struggling but did he not also realise that Wangji was struggling too? While their problems may not be shared, they still hurt the same. Whatever Wei Ying had been through was clearly difficult, painful, and traumatic. But so was everything he had been through in the three months. The start of the war when battles were too close in casualties to call; the burning of Cloud Recesses and the ache of losing his home; the empty space beside him where Wei Ying should have been, pulsing with anguish at anything that even hinted of the man.

Stop… Do not make assumptions about others. Do not treat others with contempt. Do not criticise others. Discipline your words and behaviours. Do not succumb to rage, do not succumb to rage, do not succumb to rage.

He forces air in through his nose sharply and slowly out his lips. Wei Ying must have had a reason, do not rush to make judgments. Collect all the facts. An innocent man may look the same as the guilty at first. He packs his things quickly, grabbing Bichen from its stand on his way out. He had meant to polish and oil it today. There’s a flash of melancholy in his heart thinking of how he had neglected the weapon in recent months. Left with the Wens uncared for, and then left again when the swells of grief had clutched him for those three months, stained red with the blood of battle and never washed off.

From the lack of both Chenqing and the man’s qiankun pouch, it is clear Wei Ying had gone. He makes his way to the outer edge of the grounds where ancillary buildings are where many of the servants live. There’s a small open area in which some are mingling about eating an early midday meal. They cast uncertain glances his way as he enters, clearly unaccustomed to having a member of the gentry in an area that would normally be “below” their station.

He spots a familiar face and approaches her, “Cang-guniang.” She abruptly stops eating and turns around. The Lan is a great deal taller than the others and his silvered guan bright in the sun.

“What can I do for you, Lan-ergongzi?” The others sitting with her are taken aback at her apparent familiarity with the imposing Twin Jade.

“May I speak to you privately?”

“Of course.” She excuses herself from the table kindly and she shows him to a secluded side corridor.

He wastes no time, he does not have any to waste, “Wei Wuxian is missing. Have you seen him?”

The woman’s face crumples into unease, “I spoke to him last night. He said he was going into Yunmeng for a drink… I thought it was odd because we have our own liquor made here, he doesn’t need to go to a teahouse for a drink.”

“Where did he go? Which direction?”

“He was headed towards the stable block. Which I guess now is also quite odd as it is just a few minutes walk to town. There is no need to take a horse.”

“Take me there.”

Without acknowledging, she immediately starts walking hurriedly, Wangji following close behind. Within the small yard tucked away, there’s a young stableboy who instantly cowers with fear at the sight of the cultivator. He is quite visibly terrified of the man but Luoyang’s presence gets him to at least answer their questions.

“Have you seen Wei-gongzi? Did he come by here?”

“Y-yes. He asked me to tack his horse late last night, as I was finishing the evening check.”

“Where did he go?”

“He didn’t say anything and it is not this one’s place to ask. Although…”

“Although what?”

“As I helped him mount, he mumbled something to himself about heading west. Away from the moon.”

Wangji inhales sharply. “What colour is his horse?”

“Reddish-brown like cassia bark. Will Lan-ergongzi, I mean, Hanguang-jun, also be needing a horse?” The boy asks shakily.

“No, thank you.” He replies and with a nudge sends Bichen out of its sheath. Both Luoyang and the boy startle with the motion and Wangji feels a small surge of remorse for having alarmed them. As he hops onto the quivering blade, he turns to the woman, “Tell Jiang-zongzhu of the situation. He may be of... assistance in this matter.”

She nods once and he pushes his qi against the ground, raising up and away from Lotus Pier. There are very few cities this far west that still associate with the main jianghu but he knows of one, Yiling.

Chapter Text

He soon realises it was a stroke of good fortune that he did not oil Bichen’s blade today. Only a few li outside of Yunmeng he had encountered an unavoidable cloudburst of rain that left him thoroughly soaked and struggling to keep his feet balanced on the wet metal. If he had polished it, it would have been nearly impossible to remain in the air.

Through the trees, he spots Wei Wuxian’s bay horse and angles to fly down towards them. He leaps off Bichen higher than normal, flipping to land on the road in front of Wei Ying. The man yanks back on the gelding’s reins, the animal tossing its head as they stop. He knows he must look dishevelled with robes wrinkled and hair curled but that doesn’t explain the look he receives.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s face is twisted in confusion as he dismounts, approaching the man as if unsure he is real. There’s a frenetic and feverish haze to his eyes that makes Wangji question his lucidity even more.

They’re just an arm’s length away now and it’s clear something is amiss with him. “Wei Ying, where are you going? Why did you leave Lotus Pier so quickly?” Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Why did you drug me?

“I just need to go. There’s something I need to do.”

“I will come with you.”

“No, Lan Zhan, you can’t. I have to do this alone. Just me.”

“Then I will accompany you as far as I can.”

“No, you can’t. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan but I can’t risk getting you hurt… again.”

That raises flares in Wangji’s mind and resolution sets firm. He will not let Wei Ying go, not alone. As Wei Ying turns to mount his horse again, strong arms grip around his chest and he thrashes in their hold. “Lan Zhan, let me go! I need to go!”

“Wei Ying, calm down.”

“No! He’s going to-, he’s, they, I need-” The man’s words are becoming more and more splintered by frantic energy. In a forceful twist, he breaks free of the hold and Lan Wangji lurches forward to regain his grip but Wei Wuxian does not try to run. He instead rummages through his robes, thrusting out a crumpled piece of parchment. “See, Lan Zhan, they’re going to hurt them. I can’t let them die!”

Demon Wei Wuxian,
I know what happened on that mountain. I know who did it. I know where they are.
Would you like to say goodbye first? You had best hurry.

“Who, Wei Ying, who is going to get hurt?”

“Wen Qing and Wen Ning!”

Realisation slams down his throat like scalding tea. The scar on his chest. He had thought it part of the other torture. But it was too careful, too cared for. Wen Qing is a physician, an expert in cultivation.

“Where did it go, Wei Ying? Who has your core?”

“There wasn’t a choice. There wasn’t any other way!”

“Who, Wei Ying?” His voice roars through the trees because he already knows the answer, he already knows, he knows, he knows, he knows.

“Jiang Cheng.”

Ozone’s bitter smell floods the dry air before the world goes purple, blinding and sharp, for a blink.

“What did you do, Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Ying turns around slowly, delaying the inevitable as much as he can. Across the clearing, Jiang Wanyin stands, Zidian licking at his knuckles. His expression is thick with anger and something else. Wangji sees Wei Ying’s shoulders curl minutely under the weight of the glare.

“I’m your older brother, I’m supposed to protect you. What else could I have done?”

“Anything! You could have done anything else! I didn’t want- I don’t want-,” Jiang Wanyin glances down at his own chest and then back up at his brother, “how could you?”

“You wanted to die, Jiang Cheng! How was I supposed to do anything else!”

“Why, why don’t I have a scar? Why don’t I remember?”

“Wen Qing healed your wound with qi, so you wouldn’t know.”

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes narrow, suspecting. “So why do you?”

“I… I wanted it to remind me. That I chose this condemned existence for a reason... that reason is you.”

His brother lurches forward and Wangji startles out of his shock to protect Wei Ying but can’t make it in time, he’s always too late. But there is no cry of pain, no squeal of a sword. Jiang Wanyin’s arms clamp around Wei Wuxian’s chest in a hug. It’s despondent and fierce and full of so many emotions as to thicken the air with fog. The other man gives a yelp of surprise, eyes going wide for a moment, before returning the hug.

They’re both crying and Wangji suddenly feels like an unwelcome onlooker. They stay entangled for a number of minutes before Jiang Cheng pulls away, determination setting on his face.

“Where is the bastard?”

As they ride down the forest road, feeling the horse’s hooves rhythmically strike the dirt beneath, Lan Wangji finds himself questioning his initial judgments of Jiang Wanyin. Maybe devotion had been mistaken for anger, protection mistaken for displeasure. Warm hands startle him out of his mind as Wei Ying places his over top of Wangji’s. The man must have felt him jolt and laughs lightly from his place in front. Despite everything, despite where they are and what they are about to do, he can still find it in himself to laugh.

They share the gelding’s narrow saddle, pressed close together. When Wuxian had offered his hand to Wangji, inviting him up, Jiang Cheng had made a grunt of discomfort from his own horse. “If you two are courting, you really should be riding with me, Wei Wuxian.”

“As if I’d rather ride with you than walk. Lan Zhan can share with me, since he flew here on his sword.” He brushes right over the start of his brother’s sentence and the embarrassment bubbling in Wangji’s throat retreats.

They ride for only the few remaining hours to Yiling, the air silent save for the creak of leather from the horses’ tack. The town is quieter and emptier than usual as if sensing their great arrival.

Wuxian had only been to Yiling once before that day but even then, full of people, it had struck him as a place of loneliness. Unprotected by a sect other than the small new Qishan Wen outpost, dusty and devoid of fertile soil, the Burial Mounds creeping ever closer, it is not a place many choose to occupy. Even the new supervisory office was nearly abandoned, Wen Chao and Wen Xu staying far away from the desolate town.

On the outskirts, in the dense forest, the stone wall and gate of the Wen settlement greets them. Wei Ying shudders as the emptiness in his gut stirs again. It looks exactly as it had in those frantic days, the same musty smell of damp dirt and bamboo.

His fist pounds against the wood doors of the compound, rattling them in their frame. “Is anyone there? Please, answer!”

The latch releases and an old woman peers through the small opening in the doors.

Wei Ying’s voice is hurried with fear, “Please, furen, are Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi in? It’s an emergency, we need to see them.”

“My apologies, gongzi, but the young mistress and master left just this morning.”

“What?! Who- who did they leave with? Why?”

“They left alone and in a hurry. I am not sure where they went, they sent all of the guards off one way and went the other. It is just me and the kitchen girl left.”

“Oh no, no, no, no!” He chants under his breath and the woman’s face furrows in alarm.

Wangji steps forward and bows, “Thank you for your help, furen.”

“Are the young mistress and master in danger?”

“One can only hope not.”

A firm grasp on Wei Ying’s arm turns him away, breathing unsteady. Eyes the colour of wheat meets the grey of ash, forcing them to quiet. “Wei Ying, they may have been warned ahead of time. Wen-guniang is clever, she wouldn’t be tricked so easily. We should look in the direction they went.”

“Yes,” he huffs out, “yes, you’re right. Let’s go.”

When they find him, he is alone. His hair is still tied up with the same rosewood hairpiece as before and Wangji remarks bitterly to himself about his sharp instincts. I was right that it was too nice a guan for an unaffiliated messenger to have. Someone must have given him it as a token of their appreciation for his espionage. It is a hollow victory. The tall grasses on either side of the dirt path move in sweeping waves, a murmur, a whisper, across the land. The Wens are nowhere to be found and he breathes a sigh of relief, they have evaded capture.

Wei Ying whips out his flute and a harsh refrain, so far from the light melodies he should be playing, echoes in the field. Resentful energy flickers into the air around them, tame and controlled by their master. A single sharp note sends them flying towards the messenger who barks out a single biting phrase,

“I see the Burial Mounds were nice to you. Too bad, we thought it would destroy you.”

Wei Ying rears backwards in an instant, off-balancing him, and sending him tumbling to the ground. The resentful energy disperses in a heartbeat, the atmosphere brightening around them. Wangji inhales a sharp gasp through his nose and beside him, Jiang Wanyin lunges forward, Sandu and Zidian burning in his hands.

“What did you say?! WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

The messenger laughs, he just laughs.

Wangji has to tear his eyes away from the soulless man, turning instead to Wei Ying. He is scrambling backwards, grass splintering painfully beneath his hands.

“No, no, no, no… stay away, stay away from me!” The man screams, eyes wide with a fear so dense it is clear his mind is elsewhere. Wangji stills, hands extended in front of him. Wei Ying’s breath pants, air not reaching his lungs as it should. His eyes dart around panicked, looking for something, someone. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, please, come save me. I can’t do this, I need help, I won’t survive. Please, please come find me. Where are you?”

Lan Wangji’s heart is ice. Or at least, that is what others say. His heart is ice, cold and unfeeling. But in this moment, hearing his zhiji beg for him, that solid ice shatters. He had failed Wei Ying. Wei Ying had needed him, more than ever before, and Wangji had failed him.

He crouches down in front of the man to put himself at the same level. “I’m here, Wei Ying. I’ve found you, I've come to rescue you.”

“I don’t believe you… no, too many lies, too many traps. It’s not real, it’s not real. It’s just a ghost, just resentful energy. He’s not really here, Lan Zhan isn’t here, he’s back in Gusu playing guqin and reading boring books and shunning alcohol. He’s not here in the Burial Mounds, he’s not being tortured with me.” The voice that comes from Wei Ying is full of anguish and somehow underneath it all, desperate hope. He wants to believe the man is there, he wants to believe he has been saved, that he is free but his mind has trapped him, told him it’s too good to be true, that he is unworthy of salvation.

“How can I prove it to you?”

Wei Ying doesn’t respond but a shaking hand reaches out towards him and instinctually Wangji knows this is his answer. He grips the hand firmly with both of his own, trying to radiate stability and warmth in the hold. A shuddering gasp is pulled from Wei Ying’s chapped lips and using their still-clasped hands, Wangji pulls the man up to lean against him. His eyes are still distant, not quite in the moment, but it’s a start.

Behind them. Jiang Wanyin has the messenger pressed to the dirt, sword against his throat, in a heartbeat.

“What did you do to my brother?! Why did you set him up?! Who told you to do this?! What clan do you work for?!”

But the man just continues to laugh that sickening, inhuman laugh. Wanyin’s hand clenches once and the blade is through the messenger’s throat, the laughter turning garbled before stopping.

“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have killed him, Hanguang-jun.” Wangji doesn’t miss the threat in the man’s voice, the use of his title is anything but respectful.

“He deserved to die.” is all he offers in return.

In his robe pockets, they find various missives, unidentified but written in the same neat brushstrokes. All contain similar threats of violence against various jianghu members, strategies and military secrets. One particular threat, the handwriting much more frantic and sloppy than the others, simply reads “Destroy Wei Wuxian.” Whoever this messenger had worked for, they were a far greater threat than just threatening Wei Ying.

They stumble back to the teahouse in Yiling together and settle heavily down at a table. Wangji tries to cajole Wei Ying into eating something but the man only manages two bites of rice and a cupful of tea.

Through the door steps two figures and immediately Wei Ying leaps to his feet. Jiang Wanyin makes a low noise of concern before turning to follow him.

Wei Ying’s thin arms clamp around Wen Qing’s shoulders with a force that Wangji did not know he possessed.

“You’re both okay, you’re okay, I thought-, I-”

Wen Qing’s voice is sharp but full of affinity, “Wei Wuxian, calm down. Don’t make me use the needles on you. Where the hell have you been for three months?”

Before Wei Ying can respond, sensing his discomfort, Wangji interrupts, “Wen-guniang, why don’t we sit down?”

And the story is told once more.

“They threw you into the Burial Mounds?! Come on, let’s go.” The woman yanks him upright and marches him towards the door of the teahouse.

Wei Ying sends a concerned glance towards Wangji, “Where are we going?”

“Back to the manor. I need to check your healing. Unless you want to remove your robes here in the teahouse.”

“No!”

---

“Wen-guniang, this borders on impropriety.” Jiang Wanyin chimes in as his brother sits on a chair, upper robe undone to show his pale chest. Most of the bruises have faded to a sickly yellow but the slashes still show scabs and new bright pink scars.

“Jiang-zongzhu, I am a physician. I did not become one by being concerned with what is considered appropriate. And you also seem to forget I performed surgery on you too.” She replies nonchalantly, not bothering to even look up. The man blushes crimson and turns away with a growl. The woman’s hands press hard on Wei Wuxian’s sternum and he doubles over with a groan of pain.

“Oh be quiet, I didn’t push that hard.”

“Wen Qinnnnng, it hurts. Make it stopppppp!”

“Must you always act like a child?”

Wei Ying gives her his best pout, most certainly answering that question for them. Wangji interrupts, “Wen-guniang, how is his healing?”

“Better than I expected, but still not great. His meridians are a mess, worse than I left them obviously. The ends that used to connect to his golden core are necrotizing. They weren’t supposed to do that… something is wrong.”

The man twirls Chenqing nervously in his fingers, “I’ve… I’ve started using resentful energy… in replace of my golden core.”

“You’ve what?”

He is immediately defensive, “I had no choice, Wen Qing. It was that or die!”

“Wei Wuxian, I’m not chastising you, I couldn’t care less. I just want what’s best for you and this is harming your chance for a new core.”

The flute clatters to the floor. “There’s, there’s a chance, I could get a new core?” His voice aches with hope.

“It won’t be easy. Much harder than your first time. But if you can control the resentful energy, learn more about it and how it affects you safely, I don’t see why you couldn’t form a different kind of golden core.”

Wei Ying promptly starts hyperventilating, wheezing breathes through his barely opened lips. All three clamour with shouts for him to stop.

“Wei Wuxian, breathe. Or I will use the needles on you and Lan-ergongzi will have to carry you home. Although… I’m not sure that really is a deterrent at this point.” She shoots the Lan a look of not-quite exasperation. It’s too fond to be that, but clearly meant to look warning.

“He will be returning to Cloud Recesses with Zewu-jun and I. We have many texts on golden core formation and healing that can help.”

“Oh, he will, will he?”

“Jiang Cheng.” Wuxian warns softly and that is enough of a confirmation for the man.

“When were you going to tell me this, Wei Wuxian? That you were leaving Lotus Pier. Did you even think to ask me?”

“You’re not my keeper, Jiang Cheng.”

“I remember you promising to be my second, to help me run the clan. Have you forgotten that?”

“No! Of course not! But I have to do this. If I want to heal, if I want to survive, I have to do this. I promise I’ll come back and visit. I won’t be gone forever. I’m sure the Lans will get sick of me eventually and kick me out. You’ve seen how many rules they have.”

The man’s scowl doesn’t lessen but his silence seems to be its own acceptance.

“You can put your robe back on, Wei Wuxian. Your wounds will heal perfectly fine in time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must figure out where my brother and I will go. It seems even the isolation of Yiling is too close to the war.” She dips in three succinct bows to each of the men and turns to leave.

Something flares in Wangji’s chest and he lets his instincts carry it. “Wen-guniang, may I speak to you privately?”

“Of course, Lan-ergongzi. Come along with me.” They walk from the main hall to the narrow study in quiet, Wen Qing pulling a series of earthenware jars from shelves. She expertly mixes two tinctures and fills a small pot with each of them.

“This one is for Wei Wuxian. Have him spread it on his remaining scabs. It will soften them so they heal without raised scars. And this one is for you. I noticed your shoulders strain when you bowed. Rub it into your sore muscles when they ache. It has willow bark paste and gancao to ease tension.”

“Thank you, Wen Qing. I will be sure to follow your instructions.”

The woman turns, dark eyes focusing on him.“What did you wish to discuss with me?”

“I know your feelings towards the Qishan Wen’s actions and your wish to be unaffiliated with them. If you should need it, Cloud Recesses will always offer sanctuary.” He holds out his hand and within it, the jade token he was given so many years ago. The token that will let them within the wards of the haven without a single question. The power it holds is immense and he had not given over lightly, rule four hundred seventy one: do not accept disciples without careful screenings.

Her eyes go wide and her thin fingers hover over it. “This-... thank you, Lan-ergongzi. Your benevolence is inexhaustible.” She bows deeply.

“Wen-guniang, I do not know much about those events before Wei Ying’s disappearance but I know that you sheltered and healed them. If you had not done that, they both would have surely died. You have done so much for us. It is beyond time we do something for you.”

“I never figured we’d be returning to Cloud Recesses but it seems to be the safest place for us now. However, I won’t be going just to sit around and meditate. If we are to be living there, I want us to contribute.”

“The Lan clan would be honoured to have such an esteemed physician assisting. And Wen Qionglin's talent in archery would be greatly appreciated by the weaponsmaster.”

“Well, Lan-ergongzi, it seems that we will meet you there.”

“I look forward to it.”

---

They bid farewell to Wen Qing and Wen Ning after dinner and ride through the cool evening air.

The forests and fields are eerily still as though the whole world has gone stagnant. But it hasn’t. There’s a war going on, his brother has returned to the frontlines, and the anxiety burning in his chest flashes fierce.

Wei Ying falls asleep a few hours after the sun sets, head resting back on Wangji’s shoulder. After one annoyed groan, Jiang Wanyin pointedly avoids looking over at the pair of them.

Wangji is struggling to stay awake himself, the time long after he would usually retire. But the desire to continue feeling that warm breath against his neck keeps his eyes open and alert.

At some point early in the dawn, they stop to let the horses rest and he finally gives in to his exhaustion. The smell of pine saturates the air and he’s reminded of nights in the jingshi, of the Cold Pond, of the secluded gardens. And for the first time in many months, he longs for home.

Lotus Pier appears before them well into the afternoon and immediately Wangji pulls Wei Ying into the guest quarters. He sits him down, combs out his hair, and rubs the ointment from Wen Qing on his wounds. They don’t discuss the previous day’s events, they will someday, but right now there is a cliff Wei Ying is standing on and one must get him down before knocking his feet out from under him.

Holding each other, they surrender to a contented catnap in the late sun.

Chapter Text

“Lan Zhan, there’s something I need to do.” Wei Ying utters quietly when they wake.

“Of course, Wei Ying, anything.”

The water is softly gurgling in the ancestral hall as they enter. He had offered to wait outside while Wei Ying spoke to his family but the man had insisted he come with. Together, they light incense and bow three times. Wei Ying’s eyes are wet when he looks up at the plaques bearing the names of his adoptive parents. They’re still new, gleaming in the vivid orange of a golden hour sunset.

“Jiang-shushu, Yu-furen, I am sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was… away. But I’m here now, and I’d like you to meet someone. This is Lan-ergongzi, he is a talented cultivator and has helped me so many times.” Wei Ying pauses and Wangji takes this as his cue to speak to the man’s ancestors himself.

He raises his hands in another bow, “Esteemed Jiang-zongzhu, Yu-furen, I was never able to properly meet you in person but Wei Ying has shared many fond memories of his time here. I am thankful for your generosity in raising him as one of your own." He resists the urge to frown when the man beside him bristles. "I also wish to express my deepest regrets that the Lan clan was unable to help you against the Wens. We should have been there in our brother clan’s time of need but we were not.”

“You forget that your clan was already weakened, Lan-ergongzi.” A third voice calls from behind. “There was nothing you could have done that would not have placed the attention back on the already fragile Gusu Lan.”

“That should not have stopped us. Inaction is akin to cowardice.”

Jiang Cheng kneels between them on the mat and bows thrice. “Father, mother, thank you for blessing the clan with good fortune. You have brought a brother home.”

He looks up at the plaques, then back down. His hands hover over the man’s shoulders hesitantly before clamping down and jostling him minutely. Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly, making eye contact with Lan Wangji who is behind his brother.

“Jiang Cheng, are you… alright?”

“I am sorry that I never protected you from my mother. That I left you to face her abuse so many times over. I knew what she was doing and I ignored it.”

“Really, Jiang Cheng, it’s okay.” But that’s not the response the man wanted to hear.

His eyes are edged with a new sorrow, “The time with the boat, you took responsibility for me and she… she beat you. She broke your wrist, and bruised your body, and then made you kneel in here for hours. Your knees, they were so swollen, you couldn’t even straighten them. Shijie and I had to carry you to bed. And what did you say to me? Nothing. You didn’t yell at me, you didn’t complain, you just accepted the blame for me. You are so selfless but sometimes you need to be selfish. For your own good, for your own peace, for your own life… I will find who did this to you. And I will make sure they have to climb the mountain of knives with nothing but their hands.”

Wei Ying winces, “Aiya, Jiang Cheng, that’s a bit much.”

“A bit much, Wei Wuxian? A bit much? Are you capable of taking anything seriously?! They threatened Wen Qing and her brother! They… they… they threw you into the Burial Mounds!” Jiang Cheng’s voice breaks and Wei Wuxian is yanked forward off his knees and into a tight embrace so suddenly he gasps.

“I thought I lost you, Wei Wuxian. I thought my brother was dead! You were gone for so long. And then you came back but you were so different and I didn’t know why and it infuriated me because you wouldn’t tell me. And it was because of them and you don’t want me to punish them? Wei Wuxian, I want to destroy them. They nearly took you away from me, from shijie. We swore oaths to protect each other. I am the leader of the Yunmeng Jiang and your brother. If I am worth anything to the legacy of the ancestors in this hall,” He gestures to the plaques hung all around them, “I will make sure that the bastards receive retribution for the hell they have put you through.”

Wei Ying is clearly put out for words and he reverts to chuckling weakly, “That’s two hugs you’ve given me now, Jiang Cheng. Too many and I might get spoiled!”

The man fixes his brother with a truly lethal glare. “Oh shut up. It’s not going to happen again.”

Jiang Cheng’s sudden discomfort only serves to fuel Wei Ying’s mischief even more and he lunges to grab him in a hug. Except the other man throws himself backwards dodging the outstretched arms and lands right in Lan Wangji’s lap. In a flurry of purple robes, he flies to his feet.

He coughs, “Please excuse me, I have some sect business to attend to.” and then dashes out the hall doors, forgetting to bow.

Wei Ying starts laughing so hard that tears spring from his eyes and despite his best efforts to control it, Wangji finds himself smiling along too. “Oh Lan Zhan, you should have seen his face when he realised what he had landed on. I haven’t seen him that scared since he tore shijie’s Mid-Autumn paper-cuts that she had spent a week working on. She chased him around with a practice gun for an hour.”

Standing up, he extends a hand down to Wangji, “Come on, Lan Zhan. I have had enough of morose family history for today. Let’s go somewhere more pleasant.”

They find themselves out of the gates of the compound and on one of the many piers. Wei Ying drops down to sit on the end, swinging his feet over the water, while Wangji lowers himself into an appropriately-named lotus pose.

The sun is just kissing the top of the nearby mountains, alighting the sky with vermillion-oranges, gentian-blues, and camellia-pinks. It casts a wash of colour across the water, the vivid strokes of a carefree painter.

Wei Ying settles his head on Wangji’s shoulder with a deep sigh. “Oh, I’m going to miss these sunsets.”

“Tomorrow, I will buy you pigments and parchment. We will sit out here again and you can paint as many as you want. When we return to Cloud Recesses, we will hang them throughout the jingshi.”

“Really, Lan Zhan?”

He nods, “I never want you to feel like you have to become someone different. Wei Ying is Wei Ying. You are everything you need to be.” A gentle hand turns his chin, soft lips meeting his.

And despite the light fading before them, it feels like the beginning of the brightest dawn.

Somewhere, just out of view, a lowly servant with a wicked ambition screams with rage. Wei Wuxian had escaped again, always out of reach of their plans. The next to go would be that guardian of his - the ever-luminous Hanguang Jun. The sun must set.