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It is strange to think that in the quiet of the Cloud Recesses, there can be a place even more still, more silent. And yet Lan Xichen finds himself in his parents' house, dwelling in a land of one.
True, it is not quite the island of solitude he may prefer. There is always someone to bring him food, to take his laundry, to pick up and clean out the meager detritus of his life. Much as he may wish to fade from the world, to have everyone forget how foolish he has been (and oh, how they must whisper when he turns his back, talk about the man who lost one sworn brother to the hand of another), he is reminded constantly of his place in Gusu, of how his reprieve may only be temporary.
He wishes it to be permanent.
His uncle snorts at this, though it is not the same scornful kind he uses towards his students, but one that restrains itself, even as it makes itself clear that the speaker still considers the person he is addressing to be a fool. “We will all give you time,” Lan Qiren says. “But this cannot last forever.”
Lan Xichen says nothing, inclines his head slightly.
His uncle interprets it for the disagreement it is and frowns, clearly dismayed at this show of rebellion.
I'm sorry, Uncle, Lan Xichen thinks, but it appears that the Twin Jades of are nothing more than two disobedient nephews.
“Your brother is concerned about you,” Lan Qiren says. “It weighs upon him even throughout his duties.”
“I know,” Lan Xichen answers quietly. “You may tell him that I am doing well.”
“Well?” His uncle shakes his head. “If he was not so distracted by the demands of his work and Wei Wuxian...” He trails off, most likely taken off course from his intended point by the mere aggravating thought of the Yiling Patriarch.
Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen thinks. At least one of them gets to keep their villain.
And really, much as he would love to be happy for him, to rejoice that his brother, once a pale shadow of his self, has now been brought back to life by the same man that masters the art of raising the dead, he cannot be. Just as his brother will forever be linked to Xichen by the same blood that causes them to be as foolish as their father, Wei Wuxian will be connected with pain, with death, with the sacrifice of one life so that another may take his place.
“Honestly,” Lan Qiren says, and Lan Xichen realizes his uncle is still dwelling upon one of his favorite topics – how Wei Wuxian is a deep menace. “If he had to pick one of his classmates, he could have chosen Nie Huaisang. At least he can stay quiet some of the time.”
Another name that Lan Xichen has no desire to hear and not for the first time that day, he regrets not very politely shutting the door in his uncle's face. It may not cause the same stab of pain that the other two do, but in some respects, it is worse. The other two can be brought to the light, can be mentioned in the same breath as a sigh, and no one will think to question why Lan Xichen would show emotion about the tragedy of his sworn brothers.
But Nie Huaisang remains hidden, a quiet pain that Lan Xichen suspects only he bears. His brother may suspect, Wei Wuxian may know, but only Lan Xichen has the clear certainty that comes with being the sword wielded by the master's hand. And to think Mingjue despaired of him ever learning how to wield a weapon.
Twice now, he has been used to cut down a life, both times by men who called him brother.
“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says softly. “I don't think he'd want to be here.”
Wangji arrives some time later, days perhaps, or weeks, or a month. Lan Xichen could choose to measure time by light and dark, or by the punctual arrival of the reminders of life, but he lets them flow together, dissolve into a river that washes everything away, leaving him drifting through a peaceful numbness.
Wangji was not like this. His seclusion was spent first in sorrow, then in rage, a smoldering fire that let itself be buried for the sake of a small child, plucked from ashes and given new life. If Lan Xichen can thank Wei Wuxian for anything, it is that he gave his brother a thread to follow back home.
“How is Sizhui?” Lan Xichen asks, sipping his tea. He is not particularly concerned with the answer, but Wangji has taken the time out of his busy schedule to see him. He is dressed lightly today, no trappings of his Chief Cultivator position, but every thread is neatly in place.
Wangji nods. “He is doing well,” he says evenly. “He sends me letters regularly. It seems that he and Wen Ning have gone up to the mountains.”
“Hmm.” Lan Xichen looks down at his cup. He has no desire to learn any further details and thankfully his brother does not volunteer them. Another reason to be grateful Wangji came alone.
The silence lingers, not particularly awkward or unexpected as far as Lan conversations go, but his brother will most likely expect at least a few more words before he leaves. “And your--” Lan Xichen hesitates, eventually settling on, “Partner?”
A brief crack in Wangji's cool face betrays the emotion Lan Xichen can feel radiating off of him. “I have not—he is traveling as well,” his brother says, his voice now as hesitant as Lan Xichen's. “He may return in a few weeks.”
“I see,” Lan Xichen says, and where his old self might have let it go at that, the new one, still cut through and bleeding, lets just a little bit drip out when he adds, “After all you have done for him, and yet he still feels the need to run away.”
Wangji blinks, his hand tightening on his cup. “Brother?” he asks uncertainly at the bitterness that Lan Xichen has tried to hide.
But the spark of resentment has already been drowned in that dark river he dwells in, leaving Lan Xichen without the energy to reignite it. He waves his hand dismissively. “Forgive me,” he says. “It was impolite. I'm sure that he will be relieved to see you in good health when he returns. Where did you hear from him last?”
Wangji hesitates, leans over to refill Lan Xichen's cup. “I believe he was stopping by Qinghe,” he says quietly. “He said he'd been asked to deal with a minor problem.”
Nie Huaisang again. Lan Xichen swallows back the words, drinks the tea instead. “Knowing who he's dealing with,” Lan Xichen says, “it is something the Nie could have handled on their own.”
“Perhaps,” Wangji says, his eyes narrowed and fixed on Lan Xichen. “But Wei Ying is more than capable of dealing with it.”
And so the conversation must end there, Lan Xichen thinks. Whatever Nie Huaisang is up to now, clearly both his brother and Wei Wuxian think that it is under control. He could dispute it, raise his voice ever so slightly and firmly call on some answers, get ahead of the plot this time before he's unwillingly dragged into it.
But in the end, what good would it do? It is not as if anyone trusts him or even particularly respects him. It is laughable. All the time he spent taking care of A—Jin Guangyao and consoling him about his father, or patting sweet little Huaisang on the head and holding him while he cried about his brother, and what did he know? Both men were playing a game he never learned the rules of.
“Well, if you see him at your next conference,” Lan Xichen says, “let him know I am doing well. I wouldn't want him to worry.”
The letter arrives a few weeks later, not by bird or talisman, but carried in by a fresh-faced disciple who bows quickly and rushes off. It is a clear violation of the rules, but upon seeing the seal on the scroll, Lan Xichen loses all interest in saying one word about it.
It takes him three days to open the drawer that he shoved it into on first glance, and at one point, he thinks of just burning it.
But burying his head in the sand has led him to where he is, and there is a very small part of him that is curious to see what Nie Huaisang might have to say to him. It is altogether likely that he may just continue to act the head-shaker, pretend that neither one of them know the truth.
Would that be a comfort or an insult? Lan Xichen is not entirely sure, but this letter is the only thing that has given him any sort of interest in the outside.
He opens it, if only to see if Nie Huaisang has gotten more creative in his lies.
Zewu-Jun,
I suppose I should call you this now as even Lan Xichen seems too familiar. I know we have moved far past the days of Xichen-ge, and for that...
I guess I'm hoping you haven't already destroyed this letter. Perhaps it would be better for both of us if you did. Less pain for you, less risk for me. And yet I find myself wishing that you haven't completely written me as beyond saving, even as I know that you would have every right to.
I am sorry. I cannot apologize for what I did because I would do it again. Once I stepped on that path, I knew I would never turn back, no matter what anyone else said. In that, Wei-xiong and I may find our only point of agreement these days.
But I am sorry for hurting you. Wei-xiong isn't one to give lectures, as I believe he relies on your brother to do so, but he has told me that you are still in seclusion. I--
I have never been good with sabers, or any sort of weapon. Mingjue always told me to treat them with respect, to learn what it meant to wield one, but I never planned on using them. That was my brother's will, not my own, and in the end, it meant I was ill-prepared to know what happens when you finally decide to pick one up and use it.
It also means that having used it, I have no inclination to ever wield one again. I told your brother and Wei-xiong that I have no desire to meddle in things that don't concern me. I did not lie to them about this. It is finished. When you return to your family, it is my greatest hope that you can remember that none of this is your doing.
Do not associate with evil. I was never able to learn that rule, but I know you know it by heart.
Respectfully yours,
Nie Huaisang
Lan Xichen crumples up the letter, now fully intent on burning it. If anything, it is far worse than he had imagined. He might have been able to bear a cheerful lie, a letter that said that Nie Huaisang hoped he was doing well, that everything was just so sad lately, that he just saw Wei-xiong and they had a lovely time...
This hurts harder and he wonders if that is Nie Huaisang's intent. To tell Lan Xichen that he never would have gone to him for help, that he would have planned this regardless of anyone's words, that having used Lan Xichen to fulfill his purpose, he is now graciously taking all responsibility for the blood Lan Xichen can still see on his hands. It is unbearable and worst of all, Lan Xichen knows not all of it is intentional.
Because Lan Xichen may not know Nie Huaisang, but he knows Huaisang, and the boy that loved his brother, collected pretty things, and treated his birds with such gentleness that they would willingly come to him when they could easily fly away, that boy is not gone. That boy sits as the head of the Nie clan and smiles to everyone, shakes his head, and is just as alone as Lan Xichen.
Perhaps even more alone. Lan Xichen has his brother, his uncle, his nephew. Nie Huaisang does not even have that.
But he chose that, Lan Xichen thinks. He chose to lie and manipulate, to scheme, to avenge his brother's death at the cost of--
He cannot pity this boy. He cannot--
He laughs bitterly. Of course, he can forgive.
He's always been able to forgive the worst out of the people he loves.
----------
Lan Xichen,
I was surprised to receive your letter. I thought it might not even arrive at one point, your brother having intercepted it before it reached you. But Wei-xiong did mention that Lan Wangji is very busy these days and it's just so hard to find time to be with him and then I had to have someone carry him to bed because apparently he's started to take on the Lan tolerance for alcohol as well.
I thought about not writing back. It seemed like I shouldn't, but whatever you want, I've realized I need to give it to you. I'm not—you are a better person than I ever deserved knowing and you made me better than I had any right to be. Mingjue gave me my anger and Jin Guangyao my plans, but you gave me beauty, something that felt long gone after my brother's madness and death, and I want to give it back to you, even a little bit.
It's not a very good painting as I'm only a mediocre artist, but I'm working on getting better in everything.
Nie Huaisang
Lan Xichen
I've sent you another one. This time, it shouldn't take weeks to get to you. I've tried to figure out where it got delayed, but given the distance between us, it's probably not a mystery worth investigating.
Wei-xiong stopped by again. I've gathered that he had some sort of disagreement with your brother over taking his duties too seriously. Your brother's duties, I mean, not Wei-xiong's. I don't believe Wei-xiong takes anything related to bureaucracy with any degree of seriousness. It will blow over, though. They're incapable of being separated from each other for longer than it takes one of them to realize that no one else would put up with them.
Being clan head is so boring. Mingjue always made it look like it was constant battling and strategy, but he had the Wen to go up against. I have occasional conferences where I have to try to look focused. You may think I'd just be pretending but listening to one of the lectures from Sect Leader Ouyang is a cure for any form of sleeplessness. At least Jin Ling agrees with me when he does show up, judging from his fidgeting, but lately he's just been sending random Jin cultivators and claiming he's far too busy rebuilding his clan. I'm certain he learned that from Wanyin and I can't believe it works. Everyone else just tells me I'm being lazy when I try it. Still, I've already sent in my regrets for the next conference and I'm pretty sure that none of them want to venture to Qinghe to force me to attend.
The rest of the time it's meeting with the new Nie cultivators. They're probably less violent than the elders would like, but it's nice to have someone to talk to who doesn't think using a fan is a waste of time. Nie Peizhi seems to like the birds even more than me, which is terrifying, and Nie Qiaolian has some very interesting things to say about plants, when she's not healing the inevitable saber wounds that come because it's the Impure Realm and even during peace, people find a way of getting injured.
It's—I'm glad everything has settled down now but I think you must know what it's like to have enough time where nothing happens which means you can think about everything that did happen.
I do miss you. That's probably not something you should do anything about, but I'm kind of drunk right now and I think I probably should stop--
Nie Huaisang
Lan Xichen
Please ignore the last letter I sent you. I'm not entirely sure what I said it in by the end, because while I'm sure Wei-xiong thinks everything I do now is some sort of new plot, the truth is that these days, I still don't know what I'm doing. Even when... all that was happening, I was never quite sure it was going to work.
I hoped it would, of course. But I don't think I ever really planned for what I would do after if it did. Maybe it would have been easier if I did have some sort of secondary plan to become Chief Cultivator, but I don't think anyone would trust me with that, least of all myself.
I'd trust you with it, though. Your brother does a good job, but I think we both know how Wei-xiong feels about having to share him with certain sect leaders and one of these days, I think he's going to abduct him right out of one of the meetings. While that might make them actually exciting, I don't think it would be good for your uncle's health.
You don't have to consider this, though, especially since it's coming from me. I just—
Nie Huaisang
Lan Xichen sighs at the blotch of ink that cuts off whatever Nie Huaisang was going to say and puts the letter back in the lacquer cabinet, locking it with a twist. He's not sure what his uncle thinks all these letters mean, but he's keeping his mouth shut about it. Maybe his uncle assumes that Lan Xichen has taken his words to heart and is trying to match-make Nie Huaisang with either Wangji (removing Wei Wuxian from his life, so good) or Wei Wuxian himself (probably even more preferable since it frees up his nephew, though Lan Xichen suspect his uncle has not factored in the last time Lan Wangji thought Wei Wuxian was lost to him).
He pushes his hair back from his face, still hanging loose. It's not as though he's expecting any visitors for a few hours. His brother is off at another Clan conference, his uncle teaching classes, and Sizhui stopped by long enough to drink tea with him and pat Wangji sympathetically on the shoulder before apparently rushing off to spend some time with Jin Ling, who, according to Lan Wangji, sent a very serious note that read “still rebuilding clan, fostering alliances, so much to do, here's someone to replace me.”
Lan Xichen is not entirely sure why people keep making him privy to all this information, but he can only assume his indifference to all political events at the moment combined with his apathy towards informing anyone of this fact has led to his family concluding that what's the worst that could happen?
Honestly, if it wasn't for the letters he and Nie Huaisang have been exchanging, he's not sure he'd have bothered to remember half the things they told him. But Nie Huaisang has been remarkably forthcoming in his letters for a man who wants to keep people thinking that he's good for practically nothing but disappearing the moment a disagreement breaks out.
“Oh, Huaisang,” he says, and waits for the familiar nausea or dull pain to hit him.
They do not. What happens is far more alarming. Had the self-loathing faded and been replaced with the same grayness he feels most of his day, he could have accepted it.
No, instead, there's a terrible fondness, an amused knowing of Huaisang, of his foibles and his charm, and the growing sensation that fills him with a horror, that yes, he does miss Huaisang.
He does wish to see him again.
It might actually be a visit with some pleasant moments.
Ah, and there's the self-loathing kicking in. Lan Xichen feels momentarily reassured and spends the rest of his day in quiet reflection, ruthlessly pushing down any attempt by his feelings to let him know anything.
His dreams, when they come, are not particularly memorable, and his sleep is very deep, which is why it is so startling to him when a hand gently shakes him awake.
Lan Xichen blinks up blearily to see his uncle's stricken face before him.
“Your brother's been poisoned,” Lan Qiren says, and no amount of water can wash away the fear that strikes him, straight to the heart.
Wangji lays unmoving on a bed, while the healers cluster around him. Lan Xichen had almost rushed out the door before his uncle firmly caught him and even more firmly suggested that he at least not be seen for the first time in almost a year in complete disarray.
“Have you told--” Lan Xichen chokes out, but stops. His brother's eyes flick back and forth, but do not open. He's been assured his brother will live, is past the greatest danger, but Wangji is so cold, so pale...
“The Jin head has already told him,” Lan Qiren says. “I believe Sizhui should be arriving as soon as he can with Jingyi.”
“And--”
Lan Qiren puts a hand on Lan Xichen's shoulder. “We're not entirely sure where he is, but a few disciples have volunteered to look for him.” His face is resigned to the prospect. “Even when he's not here, he's still a terrible influence.”
“Let's just hope they get to him before he finds out from someone else,” Lan Xichen says. “I don't believe any of us want to see him panicking over my brother, especially if he believes it is worse than it actually is.” He does not say the word, but it does not take an expert in Wei Wuxian to know that the Yiling Patriarch, unleashed and untamed, is not something that they want released upon the world.
They both shudder, then turn to look at Wangji, laying still. “He will recover,” Lan Qiren says, and Lan Xichen doesn't know if he's saying that to assure Xichen or himself.
“Do they know what caused it?” Lan Xichen asks.
“The incense.” Lan Qiren sighs. “No one noticed at first apparently, as they were all deep in discussion, but then Sect Leader Yao collapsed. Eventually, they tried the doors, upon which point they realized they were locked in. A few of the younger cultivators were able to break through before they passed out. They were fortunate that there were already healers nearby. It was close, but they believe everyone should recover, though some will take longer than others.”
Lan Xichen closes his eyes. What if—what if his brother had died? What if by his own inaction, his refusal to do anything but retreat into himself, he had caused his brother to be put in the position where his life was at risk?
Perhaps this was the necessary push he needed. Perhaps--
“Uncle,” he begins, and then a figure in Lan robes burst through the door.
“Father,” Sizhui says, and bursts into tears. Lan Jingyi trails behind him, looking distinctly red-eyed as well.
“Sizhui.”
His nephew turns his head. “Uncle,” he chokes out, and then Lan Xichen is being clutched, embraced by a young man who is crying all over him, his tears soaking Xichen's robes.
It is too painfully familiar.
He does not go back to seclusion.
Lan Xichen is not yet prepared to fully take up his duties again, but he does spend the night in the Inner Recesses, Sizhui clutching his hand while Jingyi snores softly on the floor next to them. It is deeply awkward and Lan Xichen wakes up each morning, his muscles protesting.
It is a small price to pay.
His brother does not wake, but his color gradually returns. His hands grow slightly warmer, his heart rater steadier, and he seems to respond to the music constantly played by his bed. For his part, Lan Xichen plays his guqin until his fingers cramp and his uncle has to push him away, scolding him in a tone that is far more kind than the words he says.
Days turn into a week, and then on the ninth day, Lan Xichen wakes up from a brief sleep next to his brother, exhausted from playing, to find Wei Wuxian sneaking into the room.
He should admonish him or ask him how he dodged the guards or send someone to get his uncle, but all he does is say quietly, “He'll be all right.”
The look on Wei Wuxian's face is heartbreaking, his brash confidence replaced with naked fear. “I never should have left,” he says.
“You came back.” Lan Xichen sets his guqin aside, stands up. Normally, Wei Wuxian's bravado makes him look so much more intimidating, but with all armor cast aside, he's thin, shaking, and looks nothing like the terrifying monster people whispered about. “That's what matters.”
“But what if he doesn't wake up?” Wei Wuxian practically wails and it won't matter if Lan Xichen doesn't summon anyone, this yelling will wake anyone, dead or alive. “What if he sleeps forever and never--”
“Wei Ying,” a soft, gravelly voice says.
Both Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen turn to look. Wangji's eyes are open. He looks at Lan Xichen before fixing his eyes upon the trembling, black-clad figure next to him.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says and throws himself upon Wangji.
Lan Xichen slowly backs out of the room, knowing it is most certainly time to take his leave, and he hopes that both take into consideration their respective physical states. He hears the footsteps quickly making their way down the hall and he turns.
His uncle approaches, a mass of people not far behind him.
“I take it Wangji is awake,” Lan Qiren says dryly. “The guards told me someone scaled the walls and it was not hard to guess the rest when I heard the noise from his room.”
“I would suggest some silencing talismans,” Lan Xichen replies politely. “And I believe the healers may need to wait a bit.”
Lan Qiren turns and murmurs something to a few of the people behind him, who bow and quickly scamper away. The crowd begins to dissipate as word spreads, for while many are eager to see Lan Wangji awake, few have any desire to see Wei Wuxian's reaction to it.
And Lan Xichen is not about to wake up Lan Jingyi, no matter how much he protests about it in the future.
“I did actually have a reason for coming here,” Lan Qiren says quietly. “Before I was informed of Wei Wuxian's typical behavior.”
Lan Xichen looks at his grave expression, and something in him braces itself. “Nothing good.”
“It depends,” Lan Qiren says. “I know you've been corresponding with Nie Huaisang lately.”
“Yes,” Lan Xichen says uncertainly, his mouth going dry. “He's been concerned about me.”
“I think,” and Lan Qiren rubs his temples, looking clearly dismayed, “that you'd better be more concerned about him.
“That's stupid,” Wei Wuxian says, grasping Lan Wangji's hand tight. “Was it that old man who said that? Because that sounds like something he'd think of.”
Lan Xichen thinks back. He doesn't have the Wei Wuxian mind-reading power his brother seems to have developed to an alarming degree, but--
“Sect Leader Ouyang?” he guesses.
“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says. “Your uncle's not dumb enough to think that Nie-xiong would do this.”
Lan Xichen has to concede this point. Lan Qiren may have rued the day he ever got his personal nightmares sitting in his class, but even he saw the unlikelihood of Nie Huaisang wanting to get rid of his nephew.
“No, he's not,” Lan Xichen replies. “But he is concerned about the evidence. To a number of people, it's fairly convincing.”
If you had asked Lan Xichen six months ago, he might have been one of those people. He's not even fully sure that he shouldn't still be, but Huaisang... it just doesn't ring true to him when he thinks about it.
“Of course, it's convincing.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head, even as Lan Wangji lays a soothing hand on his back. “That's why it's not him. Incense sent as a gift by the Nie that just happen to have substances only found in the Impure Realm? It's laughable that he'd be that obvious.”
“Yes.” Lan Wangji's voice is still softer than usual, but Wei Wuxian's reappearance and his subsequent awakening have made his recovery astonishing to the healers and inevitable to anyone who's actually paid attention to him. “I agree with Wei Ying.”
Lan Xichen is a dignified cultivator, known for his gentle and empathetic demeanor, so he does not in fact roll his eyes, but he does think some mildly uncharitable thoughts. “So do I,” he says calmly.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchange a look. “See, I told you,” Wei Wuxian hisses. “I didn't visit Qinghe all those times and not pick up on the obvious.”
His brother's eye twitches. “And you are fine with this,” he says, his voice dripping with doubt. To an outsider, it might sound like he hadn't reacted at all, but Xichen almost winces at his brother's judgment.
Wei Wuxian ignores it blithely. “Look, he's clearly not after your position,” he points out. “I mean, if he was, he'd have been far more subtle about it and we have figured it out and stopped it right away.”
“That makes no sense--” Lan Xichen begins to say.
But Wei Wuxian just barrels on through. “And your brother looks so much happier,” he says. “I'm not saying that Nie-xiong has made some very questionable decisions that we're overlooking mainly because he promised us he was done making them, therefore we're all fine with each other.
“Mm.” Lan Wangji does not sound convinced.
Quite frankly, Lan Xichen lost the thread of this conversation a while ago.
“What I am saying is that if your brother is now in love with Nie-xiong and Nie-xiong is in love with him, I feel like we need to make sure that we know who the true villain is in this scheme.”
Lan Xichen blinks. Wei Wuxian often makes no sense, but this torrent of words borders on ridiculous.
“Wei Ying,” Wangji says, his tone conveying utter helplessness to stop the nonsense now raining down upon him.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian's is far more fond, flirtatious--
“I believe you are forgetting something,” Lan Xichen says, keeping his voice level.
Wei Wuxian looks up from his limpid gaze at Wangji. “Yes?”
“I'm not in love with Huaisang.”
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji irritatingly look at each other again. “I'm not wrong,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Even you can see it.”
His brother looks at Lan Xichen, who meets his eyes. Lan Xichen doesn't know what Wangji sees in them, but after a moment, he looks away.
“Mm,” Lan Wangji says.
“See?”
“I'm--” Lan Xichen stops. Don't lie, he remembers. One of the biggest rules, the one that should only be broken for truly noble purposes, like hiding your brother and his partner from your sworn brother who turns out to be.... well, someone you never really knew.
Don't lie, he thinks. What do you feel for Huaisang? Is it part of your self-loathing, an echo that says you should have done something to help him before everything came crashing down?
No.
Is it pity for the boy he used to be, or perhaps a desire to start again, to wipe the stone clean and give someone a chance because you feel it's the only way you can restart?
Closer, but not quite.
Is it finding out the truth of someone and realizing that even after all of that, you still feel drawn to them? Is it wanting to see the man that you know now, not the boy you saw in glimpses? Is it Huaisang, giving you every single weapon you would need to strike him down and knowing that a part of him wants you to do it because he walks the same lonely path as you? '
Is it realizing that you can walk it together?
Lan Xichen takes a deep breath.
“I'm going to Qinghe,” he says. “Let uncle know.”
Wei Wuxian nods even as Lan Wangji slumps back. “Say hello to Nie-xiong for me,” he says cheerfully. “Tell him he owes me a new jug of wine.”
He arrives in Qinghe a few days later.
Lan Xichen supposes that the one good thing about abandoning his duties for the last several months is that there is very little he has to prepare in order to leave. All of his responsibilities have already been passed off to others and he feels strangely lazy, like he's neglecting everything on nothing more than a whim. It's liberating in a way.
This must be what Nie Huaisang feels like when he skips out.
The Impure Realm relieves him of any of this laxity. Granted, it has never been a particularly pleasant place to visit, but right now, there is a nervous energy to it
“How much do they know?” Lan Xichen asks quietly, as he continues folding things into his qiankun bag. “I can't imagine Huaisang is completely in the dark.”
Wei Wuxian looks thoughtful. “Well,” he says, “He probably knows everyone's been poisoned at a conference he didn't attend. Though I don't think the form of poison got out.”
“Do you suppose he knows that all the evidence points to him?” Lan Xichen packs a few more talismans, some scrolls, and then as an impulse, the painted fan he's just finished. It's not that he feels he needs to give Huaisang something completely impractical, but it would be impolite to just show up without any form of hospitality.
“Most likely.” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Everyone likes to talk about a villain.” His smile is crooked, his eyes cool. “Just because he didn't do this, it doesn't mean he's got clean hands. He might know who's framing him, especially if he's keeping a list of everyone that has a grudge against him.”
“Be careful,” Wangji says, still propped up against the cushions. “You have not been out in the world for some time. Things have changed.”
Wei Wuxian nods. “I think things were easier when we were just fighting Wen Ruohan. At least he had the respect to make it clear that he wanted us all under this thumb.”
He really has been spending too much time with Huaisang.
“Sorry, Zewu-jun,” the cultivator says, panting as they run up to him. “The sect leader wanted to meet you but he was just finishing up some paperwork. I can take you to his quarters.”
Lan Xichen smiles. “Of course,” he says. “I'll follow behind.”
The cultivator bows again. “Excuse me, Zewu-jun for neglecting to introduce myself. My name is Nie Peizhi.”
“Ah,” Lan Xichen's smile broadens. “Nie Huaisang mentioned you and he shared a fondness for birds.”
Nie Peizhi turns crimson and his mouth shuts.
It's empty along the halls as they make their way through the stone building. Nie Peizhi makes his way quickly, his ears still slightly red. Lan Xichen thinks about apologizing for his atrophied social skills, but decides that the silence would be more merciful.
“Most of our clan are out,” Nie Peizhi eventually says, noticing Lan Xichen's looks along the deserted corridors. “Some of them are training and a few more have gone hunting.”
“I see,” Lan Xichen says. “It has been a tumultuous year, from what I've been told.”
Nie Peizhi does not take the bait, though he does flinch a little. “It has, Zewu-jun.”
They continue walking in silence a bit longer until Lan Xichen recognizes the door to the inner quarters of the Nie sect leader. He wonders if Nie Huaisang has changed much about it, since he last saw it.
“He's a good leader, Zewu-jun,” Nie Peizhi says unexpectedly. Lan Xichen turns to see him standing straight, his eyes clear and honest. “I know people say things about him but he does his best.”
“I know,” Lan Xichen agrees quietly. “He's always tried when it matters.”
Nie Peizhi smiles briefly. “I'm sure he'll be happy to see you.” He knocks on the door. “Sect Leader, Zewu-jun is here to see you.”
Lan Xichen waits for the sound of scrambling feet or a call from inside if Huaisang is feeling particularly lazy, but there's no response.
“Sect Leader?” Nie Peizhi calls again. He frowns. “I know he's here. He told me he had to get this done.”
Lan Xichen nods and then something in him goes cold. Faint, above the usual smell of mud and blood that permeates the halls, there's a sweet tinge to the air. “Try the door,” he says quietly.
“Zewu-jun?”
“He can be angry at me,” Lan Xichen says more firmly. “Open the door.”
Nie Peizhi reaches for the handle and tries to turn it. It doesn't budge. The smell gets stronger.
“Zewu-jun,” he says, a bit more panic in his voice. “I--”
Lan Xichen gently pushes him back, then rams himself into the door. Wangji may be known for having a formidable amount of strength, but Lan Xichen is the older brother. He has to be strong enough to be able to take care of the people he loves.
The door isn't budging, however, and Lan Xichen is on the verge of asking Nie Peizhi to go get help when the knob rattles and turns.
The room is sickly sweet, enough to make Lan Xichen's head spin from just a sniff.
An ashen Nie Huaisang stumbles forward, collapsing into Lan Xichen's arms. He looks up at Lan Xichen, a small smile upon his face.
“Xichen-ge,” he says dreamily. “You came.”
Lan Xichen catches him completely, sweeps him into his arms, and looks over at Nie Peizhi. “Get the healers,” he says.
Nie Qiaolian hovers over the bed. Nie Huaisang is thankfully awake, though both Nie Qiaolian and Lan Xichen have surprisingly had to push him down to keep him from leaving the bed. Naturally, when Lan Xichen actually needs him to not move...
“You'll be fine,” she says quietly. “I don't think you were exposed to it long enough for it to be permanently debilitating.”
Lan Xichen looks at Nie Huaisang, his hands trembling slightly. He manages a smile. “That's good,” he says. “Though it would have been nice to have an excuse not to have to attend any more meetings.”
“Zewu-jun, please--” Nie Qiaolian begins to say, then lets out a frustrated breath. “Just be mindful,” she says. “We're very lucky that nothing worse happened.”
She sweeps out of the room and Lan Xichen shuts the door behind her. “You need to listen to her.”
Nie Huaisang lets out a sigh. “And just when I thought that I might have escaped getting poisoned.”
“So you know,” Lan Xichen says.
“Yes.” Nie Huaisang looks tired. “It's hard not to when the whispers are practically roaring that you're the next--” He breaks off.
“Jin Guangyao,” Lan Xichen finishes. It doesn't hurt as much now, even if the pain will never go away. “If you were him, this would be a clever ploy to deflect suspicion.”
“Wouldn't it?” Nie Huaisang's smile is resigned, bitter. “The impeccably honest Zewu-jun goes to investigate the head-shaker who conveniently falls prey to a poisoning attempt. He is miraculously saved and there's a witness who can corroborate that someone tried to kill him.”
Lan Xichen sits down on the chair next to the bed. “It makes sense,” he says evenly. “And I would naturally fall for it, being of a forgiving, trusting nature.”
Nie Huisang's hands flutter in the air, then drop away. “As you say.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I see no flaws with this logic.”
“I see one,” Lan Xichen says. “It may not seem like much, but there is a fault that you haven't considered.”
“And that is?”
“Did you set this up?” Lan Xichen asks. “Tell me the truth.”
Nie Huaisang opens his mouth, closes it. “I--”
“Did you lie to me again?”
“No,” he whispers. “Not this time.”
Lan Xichen lets out a deep breath. “Then that's the flaw,” he says. “I don't believe you poisoned my brother or the other sect leaders or yourself. I don't believe you're willing to do anything for power. I don't believe you'd betray what trust we've regained just to have a title that would destroy you in the end.”
“I did think about it.” Nie Huaisang laughs, his eyes wet. “Having real power to change things? But knowing what I'd have to do to keep it and what it did to--” He buries his head in his arms.
That's right, Lan Xichen thinks. Huaisang lost him, too, far earlier than everyone else did.
Lan Xichen puts a hand on his back, stroking it as Huaisang's body is wracked with sobs. “It's all right, Huaisang,” he whispers. “I'm here.”
“I'm sorry, Xichen-ge.” His voice is muffled, broken. “I'm so sorry.”
Lan Xichen kisses the top of his head, takes him into his arms. “I forgive you, Huaisang,” he says.
He's not lying either.
“You didn't do it,” Lan Xichen says the next morning. He's tired, but he looks better than Huaisang, whose face is still pale, hands shaking a bit. “But is Wei Wuxian wrong when he says you know who did?”
Huaisang looks down, steadies his hands. “Not precisely,” he says quietly. “I had an idea, but it wasn't confirmed until--” He stops, raises his eyes. They're clear, if red-rimmed. “The poison.”
“You recognize it?” Lan Xichen says. “So it is from here.”
Huaisang's smile is bitter. “Of course it is.” He waves his hand. “You can't accuse someone with evidence pointing to another person.”
“It's strange, though,” Lan Xichen thinks about it and one thing just doesn't make sense. “Why would they try to poison you? Did someone think it would look like you did it to yourself?”
“No,” Huaisang says, and he pauses. “There were two different ones used.”
Lan Xichen knows he does not always grasp things immediately. He is no wild intellect like Wei Wuxian, nor a devoted scholar like his uncle. He is not stupid, but machinations do not come naturally to him.
But this—with Huaisang laying it out in front of him in voice and letter and giving him the final bit to connect it all together—this is clear as day.
“Where did yours come from?”
Huaisang closes his eyes. “Lanling,” he says. “Though the one who poisoned me knows nothing about it and is probably panicking about it as we speak.”
“Yes,” Lan Xichen agrees. He puts his hand on Huaisang's.
There's a quiet knock on the door. Huaisang looks at Lan Xichen. “Enter,” he says, and the door opens to admit Nie Qiaolian.
She bows, then straightens. “I see you're feeling--”
Huaisang's face is expressionless, though Lan Xichen can see a flickering of hurt in his eyes. “You didn't have to,” he says. “I could have handled it.”
Nie Qiaolian opens her mouth, shuts it. “With all due respect, Sect Leader,” she says. “You couldn't have.” She glances briefly at Lan Xichen. “I think you know why.”
“There were other ways,” Nie Huaisang says, but Lan Xichen can hear his voice wavering. “You didn't have to involve him.”
“But now no one will come for you,” Nie Qiaolian pleads. “They'll be too busy suspecting each other to unite against you.” She is crying, but her voice is determined. "I never would have permanently harmed you, you must know that. It's all for your own good."
Huaisang slumps in his bed. His face cracks, a mess of guilt and regret and maybe at one time, Lan Xichen would have appreciated Huaisang finally recognizing the effect he's had on so many people, but not now. Not when Huaisang looks so lost and defeated.
“You should go,” Lan Xichen tells her. “Your sect leader will be fine.”
She looks at Huaisang, who nods, and she backs out as quietly as she came.
“Thank you for telling me,” Lan Xichen says. “What are you going to do about her?”
“What can I do?” Huaisang's hands reach out, fluttering like one of his birds, and Lan Xichen grasps them. “I tell everyone the truth and they'll think I ordered her to do it to remove suspicion. I keep it quiet and--” He stops.
“You're worried I'll tell them the truth,” Lan Xichen says. “Because I'm a Lan and we're not capable of lying for the people we care about.”
“That's not—” Huaisang tries to jerk away, but Lan Xichen holds him fast. “I've already used you,” Huaisang says. “I don't want to keep doing it.”
“I know,” Lan Xichen says, “but it appears you'll have to all the same.” He pulls Huaisang forward until he's up against him and softly adds, “So tell me the truth and let me help you. Don't keep deciding what I can and can't handle.”
You're not Jin Guangyao, he thinks. I finally understand that.
Huaisang sags against Lan Xichen, the tension leaving his body as his fingers entwine in his robes. “Jin Ling doesn't know,” Huaisang says. “Neither did any of the cultivators they actually sent to the conference.”
“There was a list,” Lan Xichen says. “They're looking into them--”
“He's not on the list,” Huaisang cuts in. “I think they'll find out soon enough that Jin Zhihao never made it there.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
“Huaisang?”
“I don't know exactly who he is,” he admits. “But he would have to be someone who admired Jin Guangyao, perhaps even aided him in the past,. He would have seen an opportunity to get revenge against the people he blamed for his death at my expense and used Jin Ling's absence to do it.”
Lan Xichen twists so he can look at Huaisang. “You don't know?” he says, unable to keep the bafflement from his voice.
“I don't know everything,” Huaisang's voice raises. “I wish people would stop assuming that.”
Especially when you'd rather they think you know nothing, Lan Xichen thinks, but Huaisang look genuinely troubled so he doesn't voice it. “I'll send a message to Gusu,” Lan Xichen says. “Wei Wuxian will be glad to be able to do something about my brother and my uncle will consider it a blessing to not have him hovering over Wangji.”
Nie Huaisang struggles to sit up. “No, wait,” he says. “We need to--”
“You need to do nothing,” Lan Xichen says. “Let someone else handle this while you recover.”
“But--”
“Do you trust me?” Lan Xichen asks. “Do you believe that I'll clear your name and bring my brother's poisoner to justice?”
Huaisang looks at Lan Xichen, then stops fighting the bedclothes. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”
It's a shameless move, but Lan Xichen is learning all about them, so he feels a small sense of satisfaction when he leans over and kisses Huaisang.
Huaisang melts against him, leaning into it.
“Thank you again,” Lan Xichen says. “I promise I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”
He gets up, neatly adjusts his robes, and walks towards the door.
“That's so unfair,” Huaisang wails behind him. "We just started and--"
Lan Xichen nods and shuts the door.
Wangji,
I am pleased to hear that you and Wei Wuxian have captured the culprit. No doubt you are eager to resume your duties as soon as possible, but I have a few suggestions about that. You may dismiss them, as is your right, but I would add that they may be to your benefit as well.
The Chief Cultivator position is not an easy one. It demands much from the person who takes it on, and is susceptible to being exploited for precisely those reasons. I would thus bring a consideration that perhaps it should not be a position held for life, but for a fixed number of years. You may also consider letting the sects take turns having this responsibility as it may reduce the possibility of one sect attempting to dominate the others.
I trust that our uncle is doing well. Please let him know that I will return as soon as I possibly can, but the Nie are asking for my assistance with some matters in regards to their rebuilding and as Nie Huaisang's sworn older brother, I feel I should oblige.
With best regards,
Xichen
Zewu-jun,
I'm writing this because otherwise the letter would just be one word from Lan Zhan, which would not possibly begin to answer everything you mentioned in the letter,, no matter what he says.
Xiang Da wasn't even a challenge. You'd think after all that scheming and murder that he'd have come up with a decent escape plan, but no, the Jin caught him with no trouble at all. At least Jin Ling got to see his uncle in action, which he definitely thought was impressive, even if he kept muttering about certain people showing off and endangering themselves. I swear, Jiang Cheng has been the worst influence on him.
Please thank Nie-xiong for suggesting that maybe Lan Zhan doesn't want to coop himself up in meetings forever. I know it's your idea as well, so thank you too, especially since he could have just casually suggested that he become Chief Cultivator and save everyone the trouble, but I suspect you're keeping him on the right path. It is what the Lan do for us troublemakers, I guess.
Take your time getting back. Lan Qiren has only gotten more impossible since you left and if he keeps this up, I'm just going to take Lan Zhan and run away and let him deal with all the Chief Cultivator annoyances. If you're there, though, he's just going to foist it on you, so just keep “assisting” Huaisang and maybe we'll pay you a visit when everything gets too much.
Lan Zhan wants me to tell you he's happy you seem to be doing so well and I think I'm going to end this because it's very adorable of him and I can only resist that for so long.
Wei Wuxian
Lan Xichen folds up the letter and sets it neatly on the table.
“If he comes here just to whine about Lan Qiren,” Huaisang says thoughtfully, “I will put him in the room next to the aviary just so something can keep up with his chattering.”
“I thought you liked him,” Lan Xichen says, letting Huaisang nestle in his arms. His energy's mostly back, which means his hands have a tendency to wander, but tonight, he's content to just feel Xichen next to him and yawn as he fights the urge to sleep.
“I do,” Huaisang says. “It's why we suggested giving Lan Wangji the break in the first place. Besides, it's going to be so entertaining when Jiang Cheng gets the chance to be Chief Cultivator.” He smiles dreamily at the thought. “It'll just be the best.”
Lan Xichen represses a shudder, but he has to admit that yes, it might be worth attending a meeting if only to see how the notoriously prickly Jiang leader deals with having to placate a group that can't even agree on what tea to serve. “Just promise me that when it's your turn, you don't do anything foolish.”
“I won't,” Huaisang yawns. “Besides, that's way off in the future. Who knows? By the time it gets to me, Jin Ling may have decided to abolish it just so he never has to attend another meeting.”
There are people who think that Huaisang is a lazy head-shaker who spends all his time trying to get other people to do his work.
They are not entirely wrong.
There are others who think he's a master schemer, someone that hides behind fans and facades to enact his will, all the while pretending that he has no intention of changing anything in the cultivational world.
They are not entirely wrong either.
Lan Xichen cranes his head down to kiss Huaisang, who meets it with a warm, sleepy eagerness, smiling brightly up at him and murmuring “Xichen” in between.
There is only one person who knows this Huaisang, Lan Xichen thinks, and it took a long path to get there, but if asked, he still would have made the journey.
It's worth it.