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Gone. Nothing but an empty void, not even a body, no soul - nothing. The darkness clawed at his heart, tore at his chest and made him suck in a shuddering breath as hot stinging tears slid down his face and neck. Images of the Burial Mounds filled his thoughts and the acrid smell of smoke and sulfur clung to the air. It burned his nose, stripped his throat raw and made the welts on his back scream in agony. “Wèi Yīng!”
There was no answer. The only thing he’d found was despair and hollow emptiness. He’d tried so hard to save him and in the end, it had not been enough. The vacant cold nothingness had seized his heart as he realized the absolute love of his life was gone completely and irrevocably. Never again would he hear his laugh, or have his breath taken away by his courageousness.
Why had he been unable to save him?! I should have locked you away, locked you away in Cloud Recesses and never let you leave! The thought came unbidden, as it always did, and new sorrow tore through Lán Wàngjī’s soul as the loss washed through him anew. His Wèi Yīng was gone. He wanted to be gone as well. The world was so empty without him, so bland and meaningless.
What had it felt like? He’d heard the claims that Wèi Yīng had been torn apart by his own monsters. Was it quick? Did he suffer greatly? Lán Wàngjī worried greatly about this. He couldn’t fathom the thought of being torn slowly apart. Please, please say it was quick! Given the chance, Lán Wàngjī would have done anything to spare Wèi Yīng this torment of a gruesome end. To lose him was unbearable as it was, but to lose his soul too? To have nothing left at all. Sorrow was choking him, a sob choking raggedly past his lips as more tears slid down his face from tightly shut eyes.
“Wàngjī?” Lán Xīchén’s voice was gentle and broke through the haze of Lán Wàngjī’s thoughts. It grounded him back in the present, back to his home.
He was no longer at the Burial Mounds, he had made it home. Currently he was sitting in lotus pose, his whole body shivering with effort to remain upright. It was less painful than laying down was currently as every breath pulled at the wounds on his back. The counterpoint was the brand that still felt like it burned on his chest, even though it had been several days since it had made its mark upon him.
There was a heavy sigh from Zewu-jun, “Wàngjī, you need to eat.”
The tray Lán Xīchén had been carrying was traded for the one from this morning’s breakfast that sat untouched on the small table. The usually pristine quarters were in a state of actual disarray. The sight of it was quite alarming for those who knew the habits of Hánguāng-jūn. It had been a year to the day since the siege of the Burial Mounds had occurred and there was little Lán Xīchén could say to alleviate this day for his brother, though he still tried.
They were both used to silence and usually found it comforting, however, with his little brother not even responding, it was less of a comfort and more awkward. “I was thinking,” he started carefully as he watched Lán Wàngjī for any sort of response, “Wei-gonzi…well it’s been a year. Do you want to do anything special for him today?”
The moment his brother had said the name, Lán Wàngjī had flinched and a new stream of hot sorrow slid down his cheeks. The sight broke Zewu-jun’s heart. “Wàngjī…”
“Why did I fail to save him?” The deep voice was hoarse from disuse and it was raw with emotion. Red-rimmed eyes were open now, that golden gaze locked upon his elder brother as the raw sorrow clawed at him.
Lán Xīchén moved to his brother and knelt down before him, carefully reaching out to place a hand on his upper arm, mindful of the wounds that curled over his shoulders. “You did everything in your power, you are not at fault for what happened.” He soothed gently.
“I did not do nearly enough!” The sorrow was being replaced with fury as Lán Wàngjī trembled and shivered with effort to remain upright.
What could be said to that? This was a discussion that had played out so many times in the last year. Nothing could be said to assuage the guilt his brother felt for the loss of Wei Wuxian. Even so, he still tried to ease the burden upon his brother’s heart. “You must accept what has happened. That young boy is counting on you.” All he could do was remind Wàngjī of the child he had brought back with him from that hellish place. It was the only thing that ever managed to temper the misery that consumed so much.
“Did something happen?” Genuine worry tinged Lán Wàngjī’s words at the mention of A-Yuan.
“No, he is doing well now. The physicians seem to believe his mind is protecting him by hiding his past. He still has not remembered anything about that time.” Lán Xīchén assured him quickly. “I had considered taking him to see the rabbits…”
It was a delicate subject. The rabbits were precious, just like the child was. They all were products of Wei Wuxian after all. Xichen had found his brother out in the meadow with them a few times in recent weeks and always had to bodily help him back to rest. When Lán Wàngjī didn’t answer right away, a slight frown of concern pulled at Lán Xīchén’s face.
“Perhaps it should wait though. When you are better, you can take him yourself.”
“Hn.” was the only response he received.
“Eat your meal, you are needed and you will not recover if you do not care for yourself.” Lán Xīchén tried again before standing slowly. The breakfast tray was collected and taken away as his brother left him be.
Lán Wàngjī looked at the food. There was a small dish of spicy red sauce next to the bowl of rice and steamed vegetables. He had never been particularly fond of the strong chili spice that Wèi Yīng had loved so much, but he still always added a small bit to his food these days. The sting and the heat in his mouth was a reminder he craved.
Moving was a slow process, though it had been a year, the wounds were still quite painful upon his back. Every mark of the discipline whip could be felt individually as a reminder of what he’d done. It was a pain he welcomed, as he finally made it to the low table and added the spice to his meal, quietly eating alone. Lán Xīchén’s words slowly seeped into his mind as he ate, the food feeling like a lead ball in his gut.
Has it truly been a year? Forgive me, Wèi Yīng. I will try harder, I will take care of A-Yuan. New tears tracked their way down his face as he ate methodically. By the time he had finished, there was enough energy in his starved body for him to clean his face and make his way slowly outside carrying a small black jar of liquor with him. Nestled beneath one of the large cedars that lined the pond there sat a small shrine. It was hard to see unless you knew it was there. The plaque that he had made himself was sheltered within it, the name upon it was simple and elegant.
Lán Wàngjī sighed as he knelt down on the ground before that small hidden shrine and lit the incense sticks hidden within its depths. They were placed carefully in the burner, bowing before the whole thing before he opened the bottle of Emperor’s Smile and poured some out before the shrine. How could a year have already passed?
“I miss you. Will you answer me this time if I play for you?” His fingers reached out to lightly brush the plaque as he spoke.
Lán Wàngjī had tried Evocation so many times now to call that spirit to him. He had tried until his fingers bled from the effort of calling to Wèi Yīng’s soul. There had never been a response though, no matter how much he prayed otherwise.
The sun slowly meandered across the afternoon sky as he knelt before that small shrine. Thoughts of Wèi Yīng frequently washed through him and finally he bowed his head and moved to stand. He would try once more, though he didn’t have a lot of hope. Carefully taking his time and making his way back inside, he moved to his qugin and sat before it. From his sleeve he pulled out a small pouch and opened it carefully. Inside was a long red ribbon that he pulled out and placed on the edge of the table carefully. Callused fingers slid over the strings slowly, almost afraid of the silence he would get in return if he tried to call for Wèi Yīng’s soul again.
Instead, he started playing their song. It was one he had composed for them while Wèi Yīng had been a guest disciple at the Cloud Recesses. The vibrant and wild exuberance of the boy had stunned Wàngjī back then. He had tried so hard to ignore the boy, not understanding why he was so easily upset by his actions. The longer Wèi Yīng had been there, though, and after their encounter with the Waterborne Abyss, Wàngjī had to admit he was attracted to that carefree and spirited whirlwind of a person.
He even had missed him after Wèi Yīng had been sent home early for all the trouble he’d caused and it was then that Lán Wàngjī had written this song for the boy - for them. Would things have been different if he had confessed back in the beginning? He had wanted to, but Wei Wuxian was a free spirit and he had never hidden his flirtatious tendencies toward young women. It had seemed so impossible to have his feelings reciprocated that he just kept it to himself instead.
The door to his home was wide open so he could stare out toward that hidden shrine, the only hint of its existence was the faint coiling smoke from the incense burner. As the melody swept out into the air, Lán Wàngjī stared at that spot, hoping for a glimmer, a hint that Wèi Yīng was there. The melody played out in its entirety and the world outside remained unchanged. Dusk was slowly settling upon the mountain and Lán Wàngjī picked up that red ribbon like it was the most delicate and precious thing in the world.
He’d found it in the cave Wèi Yīng had called home at the Burial Mounds. It had been stamped into the ground and left as rubbish after the siege. People had been more concerned with texts and artifacts than they had a mere ribbon, but Wàngjī knew. This had been in Wèi Yīng’s hair at some point. It had held those dark strands away from his face and it had smelled slightly green and herbaceous like a lotus plant. Considering Wèi Yīng’s love for Yungmeng and the lotus ponds, it was a scent that was earthy and not too sweet, and it wholly reminded Lán Wàngjī of the man he loved and had lost.
“Please, Wèi Yīng….” bowing his head, Lán Wàngjī brought the ribbon to his lips and kissed it reverently once then tucked it back into the pouch before he returned it to his sleeve.
When evening was fully upon him, Lán Xīchén returned, relief evident on his face as he saw the meal from lunch time had been eaten. “I brought you dinner.” he spoke gently to his little brother as he moved to set down the new tray of food and then went about the routine they’d established early on upon Lán Wàngjī’s return from the Burial Mounds.
The robes were carefully removed so he could tend the whip marks on Wàngjī’s back, murmuring softly to him about the day’s events and which disciple had done what. It was mostly nonsense that didn’t matter, never a topic of any weight or seriousness. When his wounds were tended, he would offer to help him to the bath, to which Wàngjī would refuse and stubbornly tend it himself, then he would help his brother into sleeping robes, ask him to eat if he hadn’t done so earlier while he tended his back before helping him to bed.
“Tomorrow will be better.” Every night, it was the same promise that he gave to Lán Wàngjī. “Have faith that it will be better.” He would then pull out his xiao and play Rest for his brother, hoping to aid in his recovery and settle his mind so he could sleep without nightmares.
Lán Wàngjī had come to accept this routine. He didn’t protest and he went with the motions. The only thing he would adamantly never let his brother touch was that pouch that contained Wèi Yīng’s hair ribbon. That was something he would cradle to his chest as he lay in bed and let the darkness take him.
Please, Wèi Yīng, I need to see you tonight. Let me dream of you.
In his dreams that night, he indeed saw his beloved laughing and looking at him from one of the branches of the tree at the library pavilion. Wèi Yīng had looked so happy, yet sad at the same time. “Lán Zhàn! You’re breaking my heart Lán Zhàn. Won’t you try to live without me? I can’t bear to see you do this to yourself.”
That voice had been like a balm on his soul. “Wèi Yīng!” no matter how he tried to reach him though, the other was always just out of reach.
“Try for me Lán Zhàn. I need you to try.”
The dream started to fade all too soon and Lán Wàngjī became desperate. “Don’t go! Please! Wèi Yīng!” He reached out with all his might, fingers just barely touching the outstretched hand from that tree. “Stay! Don’t leave me!”
“I will always be here, Lán Zhàn.” Dream Wèi Yīng came to him then, embracing him in a tight hug. “I’m in your heart, I’ll never truly be gone from you.” And then it was over.
When Morning broke, tears were already leaking down his cheeks, yet his heart was warmed a little more than it had been before. It was the first time he’d seen Wèi Yīng and the message was clear. He couldn’t keep going on like this, he had to get better, he had to, for him.
—---------------------------
The second year after the siege was slightly less agonizing for Lán Wàngjī. Time still crept by slowly, sorrow and heartache were constant companions, however, he was trying to get better. Every time things seemed too hard to go on, he would hold that small ribbon to his chest and remember those words in his dream. Slowly but surely, the days were easier to face.
The pain of his wounds were beginning to lessen. Though the marks remained as a stark reminder of what he had done. The brand on his chest had settled into a well defined scar and he would touch it now and then in reminder of what it meant. Although he had failed to save his beloved, he was determined to recover now and care for A-Yuan just as Wèi Yīng had. Recovery was slow, though, and much time was left to meditation and channeling his energy in his golden core to try and speed the process along. The curse of those discipline whips prevented his core from being very effective, yet it helped other ailments and allowed him to start moving again.
His brother and shufu were both greatly relieved as they started to see improvement. They both would visit and encourage him as best they could. The rest of the Lan Clan believed he was in seclusion. In fact, the entire cultivation world was under the impression he’d entered a prolonged seclusion after the siege. Rumors bounced around for a while, though as there was never any proof, the reclusive Second Jade of Lan was soon abandoned as a topic of gossip.
The third year saw Lán Wàngjī finally emerge from his cocoon of seclusion. He caught every cautious and curious look his fellow disciples and juniors cast his way. With head held high and his face a calm mask, he met it all unflinchingly. No one brought up the past to him, carefully avoiding it as best they could.
It was one such morning, after breakfast, that he was walking calmly toward the library when he spotted A-Yuan sitting in the grass beneath the tree Lán Wàngjī had come to think of as Wèi Yīng’s tree. He stopped and stared for a while before the boy noticed him and hopped up, scrambling to stand straight after being noticed. He was wide eyed as he looked at Lan Wangi carefully. It had been three years after all and he’d barely seen the child since then.
“Lan Yuan,” his voice was deep and the boy gave another little start and bowed quickly.
“Hánguāng-jūn!” the boy replied quickly before hesitating and chewing on his lower lip. “You are Hánguāng-jūn, right?”
Lán Wàngjī gave a small nod as he watched the young boy. “I am. I have been in seclusion.” he finally spoke after the silence got too heavy.
“Oh I see.” it was clear the boy didn’t really know what to say and shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet. The Lan clan ribbon was secured around his brow, the cloud pattern coiling on that band gracefully. Lán Wàngjī had insisted he be adopted into the family, it had been an argument between himself and shufu and one that he’d not backed down from.
“I apologize for my absence, it could not be avoided.” he frowned ever so slightly, though to an outsider it wouldn’t have looked like much. Wàngjī had spent far too long perfecting that mask to easily let people in anymore. “I was curious, do you have time to accompany me on a task?”
“N-Now?!” the boy startled and looked around before clearing his throat again “I mean, yes! Yes of course! How can I help?” His voice was high and so very youthful. He was still very much a young child.
As Lán Wàngjī stared at him, it was hard to believe the child hadn’t been damaged so horribly by all that had happened to him. He supposed the memory loss had been a more permanent fixture than he had originally been led to believe.
“Come. We must gather some items from the kitchens first.”
“The - the kitchens?” A-Yuan moved to keep pace as Hánguāng-jūn turned to make his way toward the spoken destination.
“Yes, it is for our task.”
“Oh I see.” he replied though poor A-Yuan had no clue what this task was or why Hánguāng-jūn suddenly requested his aid.
After a short visit to pick up scrap greens and some carrots, they were once again headed off through the winding paths of the Cloud Recesses. He remained quiet as he carried the basket of greens a pace or two behind Hánguāng-jūn, staring at him frequently. Lan Qiren had explained who Hánguāng-jūn was of course. It was just that he had not really seen him since he had been brought to the Cloud Recesses.
Still, somehow, the man was very familiar to him and A-Yuan had the strongest urge to hug the man’s thigh and hold on tightly. He managed, just barely, to refrain from doing so of course. There was no way Hánguāng-jūn would have appreciated that he was sure.
For his part, Lán Wàngjī glanced at the young boy occasionally as he led him toward their destination. It didn’t take long to come upon the meadow near the path that the rabbits frequented. The meadow was currently quiet and empty, yet Lán Wàngjī didn’t hesitate to walk out into the middle of it and calmly move to sit down. He motioned for A-Yuan to do the same and nodded.
“Spread the greens but keep the carrots for now.”
Unsure as to why they were doing this, A-Yuan complied and then sat quietly near Hánguāng-jūn, watching him intently. “Do ... .are we just ... .Oh! Hánguāng-jūn! Look!”
“Hn.” Lán Wàngjī nodded as soon as he looked in the direction A-Yuan was pointing. There a rambunctious white rabbit had appeared, another close behind. He recognized them immediately of course, and a faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth out of sight of A-Yuan. “Do you like them?” he asked the boy as more and more rabbits started to appear.
A-Yuan nodded and his smile was wide as the rabbits came over and started to climb over Lán Wàngjī’s lap like they were ecstatic to see an old friend. They curiously nosed their way up to A-Yuan and started feasting on the offered greens, though they were highly enticed by the few carrots still in the basket. Lán Wàngjī reached out and picked up one, motioning for the boy to copy him. “Hold it out to them like this.”
They spent the day with those rabbits and quietly became more acquainted with one another again. It was a soothing kind of peace and something he could share with that one link he had left to Wèi Yīng. He explained how to take care of the rabbits and asked if A-Yuan would help him when he was away on night hunts. The boy enthusiastically agreed, of course, and they sat in companionable silence. It steadied Lan Wangji and he felt his resolve grow stronger. Picking up the more rambunctious rabbit of the original pair, he gently began to pet the fluffy creature as it nestled into his attention eagerly. He could do this, he would do this. I’m trying, he thought up into the sky at one point. For you, Wèi Yīng, I will keep going.