Chapter Text
Lying was forbidden in the Gusu Lan Sect, which was why Lan Xichen wasn’t afraid to admit that he greatly valued the time he spent away from his home.
Particularly when he had a chance to meet up with the Clan’s disciples, the small group which had only recently begun going on Night Hunts on their own. They were young to be alone, but they had an excellent leader in Lan Wangji’s own ward. No one doubted Sizhui’s ability to lead his companions, or to keep them safe even without an adult.
Speaking of their leader.
Xichen glanced around the inn’s downstairs room, raising an eyebrow. “Where is Disciple Sizhui?”
Something shifted on Jingyi’s face, too quickly for Xichen to decide what emotion it might be. “Resting.”
He blinked. “Resting?”
The sun had not yet begun to set, and the rest of the Juniors were still their usual, animated selves. No one else seemed tired at all, too excited to see their Clan Leader and to take a meal with him.
Clamor was forbidden in Cloud Recesses, but they weren’t currently in Cloud Recesses, were they? And Wangji seemed to have taken it upon himself to give the youngest generation a better, looser life than their of the twin Jades had been allowed. Xichen found it difficult to deny his brother anything, particularly not when Wangji was probably right. A bit of chatter at a single meal wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Jingyi was still staring at the Clan Leader, a funny look on his face as though he had something he wanted to say. It was certainly out of character, since he rarely held his tongue unless Lan Qiren was within hearing distance (even then… rarely).
“I will take him something to eat,” Xichen said finally. “Jingyi, assist me.”
Together they gathered up a tray of food, a little bit of everything, to give Sizhui plenty of choice. Letting Jingyi carry the food, Xichen fetched a fresh pot of tea and then followed the disciple up the stairs, unsure of which room the youths had rented.
Jingyi stopped at the top of the stairs. Xichen waited patiently.
“We were separated,” Jingyi whispered finally. His usual boisterous personally was gone, lacking an audience of his peers, he seemed more comfortable to express his worries. “A ghoul- we defeated it, but Sizhui was gone.”
“Gone?”
“We searched through the night, then returned to the town at noon. Sizhui met us at the gates.”
“Was he injured?” A possession, perhaps? A resentful stain? A curse mark?
Jingyi pursed his lips and shook his head. “He said he wasn’t.”
Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? Then Xichen frowned, no, Sizhui wouldn’t just say he was fine. Somehow, despite all expectations to the contrary, Wangji had actually managed to raise a child who was capable of expressing his own needs and emotions.
If Sizhui needed something, he knew to ask.
Usually.
As though reading his mind, Jingyi offered, “He’s limping.”
There were no rules that specifically forbade him from throttling his head disciple, as long as he didn’t actually kill him (as long as Sizhui didn’t fight back, which he wouldn’t, then it wouldn’t fall under the ‘no fighting’ rule either).
A nod. “He slept on the floor last night. We always share a bed.”
“I see.”
The youth squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, suddenly stern. “I told him he has to take the bed tonight.”
“Good,” praised Xichen, setting the tray of tea on a narrow table in the hallway. “That was very noble of you.”
Jingyi just shrugged, as though to say he didn’t care about being noble.
Deciding the youth wasn’t going to provide more information without prodding, Xichen asked, “When did this happen?”
“The last town,” said Jingyi. “Three days.”
He nodded slowly, then took the tray from Jingyi. “Watch over the others.” For a brief moment, he considered telling him to send up a flare. Wangji was likely nearby, and would probably be better equipped to handle his own ward.
But he didn’t ask, shaking his head and watching Jingyi’s disappearing back. A flare would only worry his brother, and, after all, it was probably just a teenage… something.
Instead he shook his head, sat the food tray beside the tea, and pulled a pouch of herbs from his sleeve. He dumped a few extra herbs into the tea, sacred ones that would reveal any sort of base-level possession, and then tucked the pouch away once again.
Given Jingyi’s concern, it was likely Sizhui may have already been tested for such things, but it never hurt to check again. Besides, Jingyi lacked subtly, so if Sizhui was possessed, the creature doing the possession would likely have caught on to any of his attempts at tricking it.
Gathering up the tea tray once more, Xichen knocked and then slowly eased the door open.
The shutters were closed and the room was quiet. The only sign of life was the soft sound of breathing, but that cut off as soon as Xichen entered. In an instant, Sizhui sat up from where he was laying in bed, his eyes wide and surveying the room, searching for danger.
“Lan Sizhui,” he greeted, and saw the youth’s shoulders relax slightly at his familiar visitor.
“Teacher,” he replied quietly. Sizhui pushed himself up, revealing himself to still be fully clothed (except for his boots). He stood slowly, offering a polite bow.
“I was told you were resting,” Xichen said lightly, placing the tea on a low table. He poured him a cup - curtesy stated that Sizhui would have to drink it if it was gifted by a superior - then returned to bring the rest of the food in from the hall.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sizhui sip the tea. There was no reaction.
Uncertain if he should feel relived or not (a possession would have been simple to handle), Xichen carried in the tray of food laying it out on the table. Sizhui just stared at the contents, his eyes dull and his face lax.
Xichen’s stomach churned, forcing himself not to picture his own brother, staring numbly at the wall with blood running down his back.
“Thank you Sect Leader,” he said quietly, picking up his chopsticks but making no move toward any of the food.
… Sect Leader? Xichen scrambled to recall the last time Sizhui had used such a formal title in a private setting. Even in public he typically chose to use Zewu Jun (when he was younger, he’d even gone so far as to call the Sect Leader ‘uncle’ and Xichen would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it).
But he didn’t mention the change in attitude. If the junior was possessed, then he couldn’t let the creature controlling him know it had been caught. Perhaps Sizhui had enough control to twist his words and leave clues for Xichen to pick up on?
But possession became less likely as he easily drank more of the tea.
“Are you well?”
“I am… tired.” Sizhui offered him a sleepy smile, but it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes.
Xichen smiled in return. He sat beside him, holding out his hand to place two fingers to Sizhui’s shoulder.
“Zewu Jun-“
“I cannot have my brother thinking I did not take care of you,” he replied, allowing a bit of his own Golden Core to flow into the younger man.
At the mention of Wangji, something flicked on Sizhui’s face. “I wouldn’t tell him,” he promised. But he made no further effort to actually stop Xichen.
There was only so much probing he could do without risking Sizhui catching him, but a few prods allowed him to confirm that Sizhui’s Golden Core remained intact and vibrant with no sign of staining.
So that narrowed the list of things that could have attacked him, removing multiple types of fierce monsters that Xichen had read about or encountered before.
Xichen wished he’d thought to ask more questions of Jingyi about the sort of creature they’d been fighting. Although, Jingyi was clever enough that he would likely have mentioned if it was anything spectacular.
Sizhui picked his way through the food, barely touching anything but the simple broth that had probably gone cold long before Xichen brought it to him.
“I can bring more,” he offered.
Sizhui shook his head. “I only need sleep, master.”
Again with the honorifics. Deciding he’d investigated as much as he could, Xichen bluntly asked, “Sizhui, what happened?”
For a moment, he opened his mouth, probably to saying ‘nothing’ or ‘I’m fine’ but both of those would clearly be a lie so he caught himself, instead just giving a small shake of his head.
“I am tired,” he said, his words measured as he carefully avoided a blatant lie. He pushed himself to his feet, quickly moving toward the bed, as though he intended to curl back up to avoid the conversation.
Xichen followed, catching his wrist just as he reached the bed. “Sizhui-“
At the light touch, controlled as to not harm him, Sizhui flinched. Fear or pain? Xichen wasn’t sure.
Calling Wangji was growing more tempting by the minute.
Except Wangji would worry, and Xichen wouldn’t be able to protect him from whatever was upsetting Sizhui. No, better to handle it himself. Best to protect his brother.
In the time he’d been debating with himself, Sizhui had sat perfectly still, staring at Xichen’s hand on his wrist. Finally he found his voice, whispering, “I- my wrist is injured. Please let go.”
Immediately he released his fingers, but didn’t lower his hand, his fingers remaining slightly curled around air. Sizhui pulled away, rotating his wrist slowly.
“Allow me to splint it.” Already he was reaching into his sleeve, producing a bag with a few medical supplies.
“That is not needed,” Sizhui assured him.
Xichen met his eyes, steeling his expression to make it clear he was not asking. He gestured to the bed. “Sit, and let me see your wrist.”
Obediently he held out his hand, letting Xichen roll up his sleeve to expose the injury. Sizhui sat on the edge of the bed, and Xichen knelt beside it, moving the injured limb to Sizhui’s lap as he studied it.
“Sizhui,” he said quietly, “What is this?” It looked like rope burn, as though he had been restrained somehow.
But what monster would have tied him up and then just let him leave?
“I hurt-“
“How?” he asked. “How was it hurt?”
“We were hunting a fierce corpse,” said Sizhui.
Xichen blinked, debating if ‘fierce corpses are too stiff to knot rope’ would be rude to say. Instead he remained quiet, dabbing at the wound. He doubted it would need a splint, just cleaned and covered with ointment.
In the meanwhile, there were a few options to get the information out of him.
Xichen could try a low-level command talisman, but the idea of controlling the youth in such a way left a sick feeling in his stomach (and it might not even work on someone with Sizhui’s strength).
There was always the threat of Xichen’s uncle (he rarely had to specify what Lan Qiren was going to do, most of the time merely mentioning the grandmaster’s name ensured immediate obedience). A kinder option would be to summon Wangji. Unfortunately, neither Wangji nor Qiren would be much of a threat, since Sizhui was adored by them both.
As Sect Leader it was well within his rights to punish Sizhui for keeping something from him, but handstands didn’t seem appropriate (and if he threatened Sizhui with a beating the youth would know he was bluffing; Xichen could never carry out such a threat).
Annoyed, he briefly wondered what god he had upset that it had to be Sizhui to be injured; any of the other juniors he could have cracked far more easily. Of course, whatever had happened, Sizhui would have never allowed to happen to one of his companions.
Left with few options, he resorted to guilt.
He relaxed his shoulders, offering Sizhui a pleasant smile as he put away his supplies. “Very well,” he said. “Perhaps I… overreacted. I was reminded of… another time.” He’d copy the rules about lying and trickery later, once Sizhui was taken care of. “Apologies.”
“Another time?” He drew his feet up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around his legs and staring curiously at his mentor.
“When you were… younger.” Xichen offered him a fond smile, allowing a distant look to cross his face, as though lost in memory.
“Younger?” Sizhui mumbled.
“You had a fever,” Xichen said quietly, resting his hand on the bed beside Sizhui. “While my brother was in seclusion. I had to promise him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, so I placed a tray on the side of your bed and answered letters while kneeling beside you.”
Sizhui nodded slowly, twisting his hands in his robes.
“Do you remember that?”
Sizhui was thoughtful. “Only some,” he admitted.
“I gave you your headband,” he said. Trying to pry him open, to remind him that Xichen was family, someone he could trust. “Do you recall what I told you?”
Sizhui looked away. “Resolve, restraint-“ his voice caught “-purity, honor…”
As he spoke, Sizhui reached up to touch his headband, tracing the simple pattern at the center that marked him as a part of the main Lan Clan.
Xichen had fought his uncle to put that on him, but it had been worth it to see his brother’s reaction.
“Family,” the clan leader finished for him.
Slowly, Sizhui removed his headband, folding it neatly and placing it in Xichen’s hand.
Clearly he’d made a mistake somewhere.
“Ah-“
Sizhui stared past him at the closed windows. “I- I can no longer wear it.”
“That- Sizhui, I am your clan leader, that is for me to decide.” Even with everything Wangji had done, even with everything his own father had done, neither of them had been forcibly stripped of their Headbands.
It hadn’t even been discussed.
“I broke the rules,” the youth said. “I am unworthy.”
“What rules?” His question was met with silence, except for a slight change in Sizhui’s breathing, becoming quick and shallow. It must have been something more severe than just childish fooling around. Sizhui knew perfectly well that he could get away with a lot, for him to think he deserved punishment… he probably did.
“I will decide on your punishment, Sizhui.” He would make him do a lot of handstands. He might even tell Wangji to scold him. If he had done something horrible, he might even ask his uncle to shout at him. “What rule do you feel you have broken?”
“One must practice restraint in all things,” Sizhui quoted. “One must not bring dishonor on the Lan Clan. One must not give into weakness.” His voice broke as he croaked, “One must not be promiscuous.”
Of all the confessions, that was the absolute last he had been expecting. “What?”