Chapter Text
“It is tomorrow.”
Wei Ying rubs a thumb over the fabric of Lan Wangji’s middle. He tries not to let the touch distract him.
“So it is,” Wei Ying replies, voice hushed.
“Will Wei Ying tell me what happened?”
“Yes.”
His heart hammers loudly in his chest. Wei Ying takes a deep breath. They are in such close proximity that when he exhales his breath hits the back of Wangji’s neck. He barely manages to suppress a shiver.
“You remember when I left Gusu, all those weeks ago?” As if Wangji wouldn’t take notice of his absence.
“After I returned home, to Lotus Pier? It happened a little after that. I was in a situation more…severe than I initially thought. These things happen all the time, so I was certain I could handle it. As you can see, that wasn’t the case. It ended up damaging my back, bad enough that it messed with the meridians.”
Lan Wangji is not well versed in the healing arts, but he knows that such an injury can’t be anything less than devastating . For Wei Ying, one of the strongest cultivators of their generation, to sustain such injuries even now, it must’ve been a horrific injury indeed. Wangji’s grip tightens on the reins. Just how close had Wei Ying come to death? And he hadn’t even known it.
“The healers did their best to patch me up, but my golden core no longer has the ability to channel qi back there. Not much anyway. The rest of me is more or less fine, but my back heals as if I weren’t a cultivator, which left me with some scarring,” Wei Ying explains. He pauses. A moment later, Wangji feels a light pressure on his back: Wei Ying’s head. The physical contact is overwhelming but still pales in comparison to the ache he feels for Wei Ying.
“Does it hurt?” He asks. Surely it must.
“...Sometimes. I can’t move around like before. I need a cane, and I can’t move certain ways anymore. I was given leave from my duties, so I could recover. That’s why I wasn’t there at the archery competition. It’s a shame, I really wanted to see your archery skills, Er-gege. I never congratulated you on getting first.” Wei Ying lets out a soft sigh.
The admission feels as though Wangji were the one who had gotten hurt. The sight of Wei Ying with a cane rather than a sword made him wish that were the case. Wei Ying did not deserve such an awful thing. How could this have happened? Wangji thinks. Jiang Wanyin had said it was a mere training accident. What kind of training had Wei Ying been doing that, upon being messed up, resulted in such damage? Wasn’t anyone else training with him? If the training in question were so risky, it seemed terribly negligent of Yunmeng-Jiang to allow any of their disciples, no matter how skilled, to do it alone. Had Wei Ying snuck off by himself to get in more training? It wasn’t impossible, but those in Yunmeng should be well acquainted with his character by now and should have taken precautions to keep their disciple safe.
“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji begins, unsure how to best put his worries into words.
Wei Ying, who Wangji belatedly realizes was still talking, stops at once.
“Yes?” His voice has a different quality than usual. It lacks all its usual cheer, sounding almost… unsure .
“Are you properly cared for at Lotus Pier?” Lan Wangji asks clumsily.
“Jiang Laoshi and the other healers do everything they can to help my back heal,” Wei Ying replies at once.
“And the rest of your sect?” He probes.
“They aren’t healers, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying lets out the tiniest of laughs. “There is only so much they can do. But you don’t need to worry, I get by just fine.”
Lan Wangji feels something akin to frustration. At Wei Ying for the evasiveness in his answers and at himself for not asking the proper questions.
“Wei Ying.” It comes out almost as an admonishment - one of the last things Lan Wangji wants to do right now. He does not mean to scold Wei Ying. He wants to comfort him and, if he can, help him.
Ahead, the others have come to a halt. Lan Wangji jerks on the reins, bringing their horse to a jerky stop. He is about to ask why they’ve ceased moving when Jin Zixuan turns back and says “Now that we are clear of Qishan, it might be best for us to split up.”
Lan Wangji recoils from the idea. He has no desire to leave Wei Ying just yet.
“What?” Wei Ying asks, his grip tightening around Wangji’s waist.
“We found tracks. Footprints of a large group of people,” Jin Zixuan points to the ground, where Lan Wangji can clearly see the tracks of numerous feet.
“We can cover more ground than them. If we’re swift, we may be able to catch up with them,” Luo Qingyang adds.
“How certain can we be that it is them?” He asks. While it could be from another group, Lan Wangji knew it is in all likelihood from the other indoctrinees. But he does not wish to part yet.
The others dismantle his argument with ease, preventing him from using it as an excuse to stay and continue his conversation with Wei Ying.
“If we wait much longer we lower our chances of finding the others, and I don’t need to remind you of our unfinished business, concerning the Lan disciple.”Jin Zixuan says the last words like a curse.
The Jin heir, as loathe as Wangji is to acknowledge it, had a good point. And as much as Lan Wangji wishes to prolong his time with Wei Ying, he has duties to attend to. Starting with Su She.
“I have no need of a reminder.” Lan Wangji always keeps his word.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. His attention instantly snaps back to Wei Ying.
“You should go with them. Lan-er-gege did promise to help, hm? You can take this horse, and I can ride with Peng Hui, alright?” Wei Ying offers. He lets go of Wangji’s waist, and Lan Wangji is confronted with the distasteful mental image of Wei Ying with his arms wrapped around Peng Hui instead. Lan Wangji has no choice but to begrudgingly accept, but before he can offer Wei Ying assistance verbally, or dismount and physically offer a hand, Wei Ying has gotten off.
Wangji hopes the movement didn’t hurt him. He scans his face for any signs of pain but finds none. Their eyes lock, silver meeting gold. Wei Ying smiles at him. How he can smile so beatifically when he is injured so, Lan Wangji does not know.
“If Er-gege manages to find the time, he’ll write to me, right?” Wei Ying asks.
Lan Wangji’s pulse quickens and his ears flush. It takes him a moment to find his voice.
“Mn, if Wei Ying will do the same.”
He nods.
“One more thing,” Lan Wangji adds, “Should Wei Ying need anything, he’ll write to me.”
Wei Ying gapes.
“I-”
“Promise me,” Lan Wangji pleads, fearful Wei Ying will somehow wriggle his way out of Wangji’s offer for help.
“I…If there is anything Lan Zhan can help me with, then I’ll let him know,” Wei Ying promises.
Although he is glad to have Wei Ying’s word, Lan Wangji can’t help but feel he’s lost since he has to leave him. Lan Wangji sends a silent prayer to the Heavens, wishing for Wei Ying to be safe. Aloud he says:
“Take care of yourself, Wei Ying.”
.
.
.
They travel swiftly, only stopping to check for tracks and to allow the horses to take breaks.
“The sun is beginning to set. I’m not sure if we should keep riding and attempt to catch up to the others or if we should focus on setting up camp while there’s still daylight.” Luo Qingyang says, looking up at the sky.
“We can’t be too far off from them. Why don’t we keep going?” Jin Zixuan proposes.
Lan Wangji does not contribute to the conversation. Staying, going, it makes no difference to him. His traveling companions argue for a bit before deciding to keep moving forward. They ride until the sky turns from blue to black and the sun is replaced by the moon and stars. They were just about to stop for the night when, in the distance, Lan Wangji spots the pinpricks of several campfires.
“Fire up ahead.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since leaving Wei Ying.
“Got it!” Jin Zixuan acknowledges, urging his horse to pick up its pace.
“Not too fast! We haven’t identified them yet!” Luo Qingyang cautions, tugging on Jin Zixuan’s outer robe. The horse slows down once more. Lan Wangji trails behind, senses focused on the light source ahead.
He can hear them before they come fully into view. They aren’t loud, but Lan Wangji’s senses are keen, and he recognizes the voice of one of his clansmen.
So as not to startle them, Jin Zixuan announces their presence once they draw closer. Several disciples, mainly from the Jin sect, rush to meet them.
“Zixuan!”
“Jin-gongzi!”
Several voices cry. The Jin disciples all crowd around the horse holding Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang.
“What happened!? How did you get out!?”
“Where’d you get these horses?”
“How come we didn’t think of grabbing any!? My feet are killing me!”
Lan Wangji stays at the periphery of the group. He scans the area. Several small fires were littered about the campsite, each with a handful of disciples huddled around it. It doesn’t take long for him to locate Su She. Lan Wangji, mindful of his recently splinted leg, dismounts his horse and hands its reins to a nearby disciple. He marches over to the campfire where Su She sits, holding his hands out to warm them by the fire. He does not notice Lan Wangji’s presence until he is upon him.
None too gently, he grips Su She’s shoulder and turns him around, so that he and Wangji can look eye to eye. He tenses, letting out a squeak.
“L-Lan Wangji-!”
“Do not fear the strong. Do not act impulsively. Make sure to act virtuously. Be loyal.” Lan Wangji states, citing rule after rule that Su She has failed to uphold.
The other Lan sitting around the campfire have fallen silent, each of them staring at Lan Wangji. It was against the rules to cause unnecessary drama, but Lan Wangji believed it was warranted, given the circumstances.
“By seizing Luo Qingyang and forcing her into the custody of the Wen, you have erred greatly,” Lan Wangji denounces.
The other Lan make a show of pretending not to watch or abandon the campfire entirely. Lan Wangji pays them no mind, entirely focused on Su She.
“You will face punishment back at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji commands.
Su She looks as though he’ll be sick. For him, Lan Wangji’s heart holds no sympathy. As promised, he would see to it that Luo Qingyang received justice.
“As Lan-er-gongzi says,” He grits out.
Lan Wangji nods. He’ll keep an eye on Su She, but drop matters for now.
Wei Ying’s medicine from earlier had worn off, leaving Wangji all too aware of the strain his body had yet to recover from. He needs rest. Walking over to a nearby tree, Wangji sinks to the ground. Without the proximity of the fire, there is a slight chill, but with his golden core and the blanket provided by Wei Ying, it is no bother. He sits in silence, gaze toward Su She even as his mind drifts elsewhere.
Footsteps sound from behind him. It’s Luo Qingyang.
“Is this space occupied?” She asks, pointing several feet away from him.
Lan Wangji shakes his head. Luo Qingyang settled down, a blanket wrapped around her.
“You did not camp with the Jin,” He points out.
“It was crowded - I wanted to get away.”
Lan Wangji nods in understanding.
“Su She is over there.”
Luo Qingyang’s eyes fall onto his form and the smile slips off her face.
“I see….”
“I’ve already informed him he will face punishment when we return to the Cloud Recesses. We can go to the elders, and they will see to it that he is punished accordingly.” Was it up to Lan Wangji, he’d have simply dispelled him from the sect at once, never to set foot in the Cloud Recesses again. But such a dismissal needed approval from Shufu, though Wangji is certain that, once he hears word of Su She’s wrongdoing, he’ll be dismissed without a second thought.
Luo Qingyang nods but doesn’t seem heartened by the knowledge. Unconsciously, a hand drifts up to the bandage on her cheek, which stops just shy of her eye. She’s incredibly fortunate her eye was not harmed. Her lip curves downward and gives the slightest tremble.
“You did well in the cave,” He blurts.
Luo Qingyang lowers her hand, “Lan-er-gongzi is too humble. We would not have defeated the Xuanwu if not for your cord assassination technique.”
“Before the Xuanwu - you were practical and level-headed when Jin Zixuan and I were not,” He adds.
She waves her hand, “It was nothing.”
Normally when this was said, people said it only to avoid being seen as arrogant, but Luo Qingyang’s modesty is genuine. Lan Wangji’s respect rises for her further. As does his concern when she lets out a shuddering sigh.
“Thank you for the kind words. Goodnight, Lan-er-gongzi.”
Lan Wangji pretends he doesn’t hear the quiver in her voice.
“Goodnight.”
Luo Qingyang is quick to drift off, breathes evening out as she falls into a deep slumber. Lan Wangji’s own eyes grow heavy, and he considers shutting them, when he hears rustling from Su She’s direction.
Golden eyes flick over to the now extinguished campfire. It’s dark, but there’s enough moonlight for him to see Su She climbing to his feet. He looks around. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and waits. He listens for the sound of Su She’s footsteps trailing off into the distance. His eyes open. He gets up and follows. Su She sneaks through the camp, head twisting back and forth as he searches for the path that keeps him farthest from those still awake. Lan Wangji, even with his still-healing leg, tails him near effortlessly.
He tries not to make assumptions. Su She could simply be going to relieve himself, but as they draw closer and closer to the horses, Lan Wangji knows what the other has intended. Still, he trails behind silently, not intervening until Su She has reached Wangji’s horse and starts untying their reins.
“Stealing is forbidden.” Lan Wangji says dryly.
Su She jumps, whirling around.
“Lan Wangji! This isn’t what it looks like!” He drops the reins as if burned.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to check on the horses. T-They’re my favorite animal you know!” He cries. It only serves to make Lan Wangji angrier. What an utter disgrace.
“Lying is forbidden. Return back to camp at once.”
Su She pauses, the gears in his head turning as he visibly considers his options. After a moment, his shoulders sag.
“Very well…” He sighs, walking over to Lan Wangji, head hung low. The facade only lasts until he is within reach. Lan Wangji is quick to evade the kick aimed at his injured leg and quicker still to retaliate. He takes the slightest (and certainly most improper) satisfaction in how easy it is to subdue him. Do not bully the weak, he reminds himself.
Their scuffle attracts the attention of a nearby disciple keeping watch.
“I caught this one trying to run off with one of the horses.” He explains.
The disciple, clothed in robes to a minor sect Lan Wangji doesn’t recognize, accepts the explanation readily enough. Spirit truly crushed this time, Su She offers little resistance when Wangji escorts him back to their portion of the camp. Having assaulted the Second Jade, a member of his own sect, Su She’s punishment would no doubt prove harsh. There was little question of whether or not he’d be kicked out of the sect. Judging from the horrified, faintly nauseous look on his face, Su She had thought the same. Pity he hadn’t thought about the consequences sooner.
.
.
.
Traveling in such a large group with most on foot greatly reduces the amount of ground they can cover. But as they draw further north, chunks of the group break off as they make their way back to their own sects, until mainly Jin and Lan disciples are left. Throughout the trip, Lan Wangji keeps an eye on Su She, who has yet to attempt to escape again. By now, the other Lan are aware of (some) of his transgressions, and likewise, keep an eye on the soon-to-be-former disciple. It takes days, but eventually, they reach Lanling.
Lan Wangji intends to part ways here - maybe request a couple of horses so that he and his companions can return home faster, but Jin Zixuan insists that they let the Jin host them.
“Surely you and your companions are tired,” He says.
Lan Wangji, having the benefit of a horse so that his broken leg could recover, is not, but he knows many of his other clansmen are. Despite this, they do not take up the offer, instead waiting for Wangji’s orders. It would be unfair to push them further just because he is impatient to get home.
“We would be most grateful to Lanling-Jin,” He accepts.
Jin Zixuan guides them to Carp Tower. The cultivators on guard duty are surprised to see them but step aside at once for the sect heir.
“I need to speak to Fuqin at once about what’s happened. In the meantime, some servants will escort you to your rooms,” Jin Zixuan tells them. He dismounts his horse and offers a hand to Luo Qingyang to help her dismount as well before giving the reins to a servant. Lan Wangji does the same.
The servants whisk them away at once, rooming them based on their gender and sect. The Jin is so affluent, that granting each of them their own room is no trouble at all. Lan Wangji speaks with one of the servants and has them place Su She in the room next to his, just in case he tries to flee again. Once that matter is taken care of, Lan Wangji seeks out a bath.
Wei Ying had been thoughtful enough to provide them with new robes to replace their own, sullied ones, but while the clean clothes were appreciated, they were no substitute for a proper bath. And while Lan Wangji did his best to clean himself in the river, he held no illusions about how he must have smelt. He hoped he had not bothered Wei Ying too much with it.
Lan Wangji summons a servant to request a bath and barely has to wait before one is ready for him. The baths in Carp Tower, much like everything else, ooze with ostentation. Wood is exotic and expertly carved with designs of birds and peonies and the soaps and oils come in a wide variety of scents. Not one of them is sandalwood, so Lan Wangji settles for one of the less fragrant ones. He takes his time, meticulously scrubbing the grime from his hair and removing any traces of dirt and blood from beneath his fingernails. His hands and wrists, which had borne long, deep slashes from the usage of his cord assassination technique, have mostly healed. All that's left are faint scabs surrounded by pale pink skin. It won’t scar. None of Lan Wangji’s wounds ever have. For Wei Ying, it must be different.
Hidden under his robes, he must bear some mark of what happened. (It occurs to Lan Wangji that, even though Wei Ying told him what happened, he still doesn’t know how .) Lan Wangji wonders what he would see if he were ever given the chance to look upon Wei Ying without any garments. It’s a thought he’s had on more than one occasion, but this time it is fueled by worry rather than desire. Though, as he recalls the way Wei Ying’s arms circled him, fingers trailing along the fabric over his torso, and of the sensation of Wei Ying’s breath on the back of his neck, Wangji cannot say he is devoid of the latter. Far from it.
Heat pools low in his belly. Perhaps he should’ve taken a bath with cold water.
"If a star fell from the sky every time I thought of you, the sky would be empty." - Donna Ashworth