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It was quiet in the Jingshi, quiet and cold. It was always quiet now, and the cold winter was sweeping over Gusu unapologetically. This morning, Lan Wangji woke up as he always did, dressed as he always did and ate breakfast as he always did. He never lingered in the Jingshi. In fact, many junior disciples noticed the way he never lingered anywhere for long. Dressed in his Lan robes, face ice cold and slightly aged with time, burdened by something new—he appeared to be like a ghost. He was always alone, always a lone bright figure, quiet and cold.
Sometimes when no one could hear him, they’d hear him instead. Guqin strings being plucked and sound that carried like a frigid wind. Junior disciples walked The Cloud Recesses, utterly entranced and at times a little spooked at the haunting melody. They’d look around for the source, but the song was not meant for them, so no one could place it. Rumors would have swelled into a great storm had they not been quelled by Sect Leader Lan Sizhui, who informed them it was the unmistakable playing of Hanguang-jun.
Lan Sizhui would see him often of course, he wasn’t a ghost or apparition to him. They’d often eat, have tea, feed the rabbits, or play music together. Lan Wangji was quiet, he always was, so Lan Sizhui would be taking up most of the space asking for advice, asking about Lan Wangji’s well being, or simply catching him up on political affairs. They were in an era of peace for the most part, Lan Sizhui was thankful for that. Lan Wangji made small comments, one word remarks or reminding him of how proud he was, but kept his eyes towards the floor. Lan Sizhui was always pleased to see the man he regarded as his father, pleased to hear his acknowledgements and praise, though—he remembered before that they held far more warmth. It wouldn’t be right to say Lan Wangji was distant or cold. He was simply quiet, which to an outsider might seem like something redundant to point out about the aloof Hanguang-jun. But truly, he was now quiet, not stoic or standoffish, but quiet.
He also seemed lost, like a low drifting cloud. Lan Sizhui understood, in fact many Lan disciples noticed a change in his own behavior as well. Because Hanguang-jun was quiet, but Lan Zhan never was.
It was never quiet in the Jingshi, in fact it was never truly quiet in The Cloud Recesses. Two years ago, there was always a warm hum about Lan Wangji, because more often than not there was a bright sun clinging to his arm calling his name. And the rabbits seemed to hop higher than the walls, the food somehow wasn’t so bland, and the music rang clear and hopeful. The Lan juniors remembered the warm summers, the verdant springs. But now it seemed that Gusu itself was lost in an eternal winter.
Lan Wangji put on his robes that morning and quickly left the Jingshi. He walked to meet his brother and Lan Sizhui for breakfast and greeted them as he always did. No one spoke during breakfast, as were the expectations. Once they finished eating, no one spoke above a whisper, as were the expectations. He stood up from the table and rushed to leave when his brother tapped his shoulder.
“Wangji,” he called, breathless. Lan Wangji spun around, narrowly avoiding eye contact. His brother had certainly aged with time, light crinkles at the corners of his eyes and faint smile lines, a couple wisps of silver hair framed his face. “Have you considered teaching again?”
Lan Wangji looked at him blankly, “No,” he said.
Lan Xichen looked like he had more to say, but decided against it. “Mn, I see,” was all he said instead.
He didn’t linger for any longer to see Lan Sizhui’s slightly hopeful face fall back into a polite smile. He exchanged a glance with Lan Xichen as Lan Wangji left as quickly and quietly as he appeared. Classes weren’t always boring, there wasn’t always a monotone Lan teacher droning on and on about boring, conventional topics. Only the slightly older junior disciples remember when their classes were taught by someone lively. When they never knew what to expect walking in every morning. When they’d all whisper about rumors when he was late for class. When Lan Wangji walks past lectures now, it is one voice speaking, textbook and uninteresting. He had no reason to watch how the class was taught or who was teaching.
Feeding the bunnies kept him in one place longer than any of his other daily activities. He’d carefully make sure every single one of them got their fill and then some. He watched them hop around and play with the little babies. He wasn’t sure how many generations it had been since he first got them, but he was well aware the first couple were long gone. He didn’t enjoy dwelling on that fact and by the afternoon felt it was about time he did something else.
As he was walking, he saw a group of disciples laughing with each other. When he passed by, they all looked up and waved at him, he nodded in acknowledgement and continued on. He still wasn’t used to younger disciples not freezing up or hesitating around him. At this point in his life, they were all rather comfortable with his presence. It was vastly different than before.
“Before…” Lan Sizhui muttered, taking a sip of his tea. Lan Wangji sat across from him, setting down his cup in sync. Neither of them quite liked the word, “before”. They didn’t like how many questions it brought up, how much it made them miss. So when either of them acknowledged anything from “before” they kept it short and didn’t elaborate. “Before, you would join juniors on night hunts, Hanguang-jun.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji nodded.
“So I was wondering…” Lan Sizhui looked hesitant. It reminded Lan Wangji of a time way before when he was a tiny, fragile little being who had just plucked his first guqin strings. So very unassured and confused. Now he was taller, just shy of Lan Wangji’s height, face matured and hair longer. He had a mature but gentle air about him. “I was wondering if you’d assist Lan-laoshi on a night hunt three nights from now.”
Lan Wangji took another sip of his tea and swallowed before answering, “I cannot.”
“I understand,” Lan Sizhui said, fiddling with the hems of his robes. He moved on to talking about relations between LanlingJin and QingheNie, how Jin Ling was fairing, and a festival happening in Yunmeng that he was interested in seeing again. Lan Wangji acknowledged all this, nodding along and sipping his tea.
When Lan Sizhui had his own matters to attend to, he bowed and left warm regards, feeling just as lost as Lan Wangji.
That evening, Lan Wangji ate dinner like he always did and promptly left for the Library Pavillion. He found himself there more often than before. There was something about it he’d rather not acknowledge that made him feel more whole than anywhere else. He sat on his heels at the low table and read. None of the content was particularly fascinating but he read regardless. There were papers scattered on the table, but his normal inclination to tidy them up was long gone, even after they’d collected dust.
Come nightfall some nights, he would find himself on the bordering walls. High enough for the wind to brush past him and loose dark stands to tickle his face. Something about even that small gentle touch on his cheek made his heart sink. Instead of dwelling on that silent thought for too long, he pulled out his guqin and played instead of feeling.
No matter what melody he started with, his fingers always came back to the practiced movements of his most precious song. He kept his eyes half lidded as he played, no care for the world around him. It rang like the call of a lonely whale far beneath the water. Calling out hopelessly, aimlessly, only the echoes of its own voice as a reply. When he played long enough, he didn’t even bother admiring the stars as he headed back to the Jingshi.
He returned his guqin to its usual spot, and removed his outer robes. The winter was cold and managed to penetrate his thin robes, so he spared no time in making his way underneath his blanket in bed. He stared up at the dull ceiling and shut his eyes, resolving himself to slumber.
The next morning he woke up as he always did, morning light just starting to peek through but darkness overwhelming. He didn’t get a look at the Jingshi, but it surely looked as it always did, he hardly lingered in there anyway.
At breakfast it was the same. Both Lan Sizhui and Lan Xichen sat with him and ate in silence, as was expected. And once they all finished it was silent all the same. And like all the times before, he was the first to leave.
He walked past the lectures once again, this time the teacher had not yet arrived since it was early. Only a few students sat inside conversing with each other. He didn’t bother listening in, but he didn’t miss the enthusiasm in their voices about whatever they were talking about.
The rabbits were as they always were and he fed them like he always did. This time, Lan Sizhui came out to join him. With a carrot in his hand, bent down as a white ball of fluff nibbled on the end. Lan Sizhui didn’t speak for a while, it was only when they were out of food that he asked, “Would you join me to Caiyi?”
Caiyi was loud, it always was. Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui are quiet and stuck out like sore thumbs in their bright Lan robes. They passed by stalls and markets but never bought anything, just observed the way people bartered and bantered. They ended up at a small restaurant at the edge of town, quiet and hidden away from the busiest areas. They both got a cold soup and sipped its broth quietly. Lan Sizhui hummed to himself before calling the waiter over, Lan Wangji didn’t catch what he asked for but the waiter soon came back with a bottle of flaming red oil.
Lan Sizhui gulped and poured about half of the bottle into his soup. It shifted to a dangerous, boisterous red as he mixed it in. Lan Wangji stared in awe, not muttering a word. When Lan Sizhui brought it to his lips he gulped down the rest of the broth in one swig. His lips were oily and dyed that same viscous red. He licked his lips and felt the corners of his eyes tingle as his tongue was nearly set on fire. The stinging in his mouth was no match to the overwhelming warmth he felt in his chest. He obviously ate too much too fast, he was full. His body felt warm and he was full but it was completely quiet.
With one shaky breath he leaned forward, arms bracing his head as he silently sobbed into the table. Lan Wangji didn’t know what to do so he just resorted to what he did way before and tried his best to comfortingly stroke his back in rhythmic motions. Neither of them spoke on the way back, but Lan Wangji out of habit made sure to grab the rest of the chili oil.
Lan Sizhui only stayed at The Cloud Recesses for a moment before needing to leave again. He left unceremoniously and left Lan Wangji to go about his normal routine. He sat on his heels in the Library Pavillion and read until the words on the pages all looked like monotonous noise. By the time dinner was prepared, Lan Sizhui had still not returned. So this time at dinner it was just him and his brother. They sat across from each other for some time in silence. Lan Wangji couldn’t ignore the way his brother’s eyes lingered on him. It was only a matter of time before he’d speak up. Lan Xichen was the first to finish his food and took a deep breath before asking, “Wangji, what are you going to do with yourself?”
Lan Wangji did not skip a beat. “What is there to do?”
Lan Xichen’s eyebrow twitched. “Wangji, please—find yourself again,” he replied helplessly before leaving him again.
He did not play the guqin that night, instead he went straight to the Jingshi. He placed the bottle of chili oil on the table next to some scattered papers and a dried up spilt bottle of ink. The bottle was vibrant and bold next to everything else in the Jingshi. It was only then that Lan Wangji noticed how dusty it had gotten. All the tables and floor that he never used or wandered to were covered in a layer of dull dust. The room looked like a museum preserved in time, completely untouched.
Papers were scattered around, an untouched tray of dishes remained clean but unused, robes scattered on the other side of the room, a dark sword sheathed and hanging on the wall, and there highlighted by a touch of moonlight was a dark flute, unmoving and aimless. Powerless and still.
This was different from what Lan Wangji thought. Somehow, a foolish part of him thought he could handle this on his own just fine. Way before, he’d done it. He played the guqin alone in his room, had dinner with his brother and uncle, raised A-Yuan and fed the rabbits and then he’d lay in bed and only cry for a moment before going to sleep. In fact he’d handled it before for 13 years just fine. It was agonizing, it was sorrowful but it was fine. He thought he could be satisfied and resolute this time.
He had no regrets, he made up for everything. He cared for him till his last breath, he was right by his side. He got to tell him all those words that were lost on him from before. He got his second chance and he made it his. He made it perfect. So how greedy was he now? Was a second chance not enough?
No, this was different from what he thought. Before he wallowed and mourned alone. No one knew how deeply he felt about it all, no one looked at him with great pity in his eyes. He thought things would just go back to before, he’d be the quiet, cold Hanguang-jun and no one would bat an eye.
Everyone knew, now. Everyone remembered. How could they not know? Some of the younger disciples only remembered a time that had his bright, beautiful self. Some of them never lived through the time of the Yiling Laozu and only knew of Hanguang-jun’s darling husband. There were lesson plans that he created that echoed through the halls. Lan Sizhui was older and now shared the same deep and meaningful memories that Lan Wangji had. There was evidence of him everywhere, of the imprint he made on his life. He could live everyday monotone and aimless. Mechanical and dull but the evidence of his existence was everywhere. It was comforting but even more so, it was terrifying.
And now that brand new bottle of oil contrasted the old, desaturated environment surrounding it.
It was quiet in the Jingshi, quiet and cold. The room was dark, Chenqing was motionless and Wei Ying was dead.
The next day Lan Sizhui caught him off-guard during tea. He asked, “May I look around the Jingshi?”
Lan Wangji wanted to refuse immediately, but couldn’t bring himself too after a year’s worth of refusals. “For what purpose?”
Lan Sizhui peered down at his own reflection in the cup. His eyes were red and puffy and his voice was clearly hoarse. It was obvious he had been crying, but neither of them brought it up. “I’d like to see if there is anything left behind for me.”
Lan Wangji had to stop his rapid blinking. He said finally, “Mn, tomorrow.”
He swore he could sense a small fire in Lan Sizhui that hadn’t been there as of late. A sparkle a tad brighter than yesterday. “Thank you, Hanguang-jun.” He smiled.
Later that afternoon, Lan Wangji found himself walking to the Library Pavillion as he usually did when he heard what sounded like bickering out in the grass near a pond. There were three disciples all in bright white robes in a muted but obvious debate. He planned on ignoring it but one of them spotted him and waved. Lan Wangji stopped in his tracks and one of the boys took this as an opportunity to approach him.
He bowed respectfully but his voice aired on the side of mischief when he asked, “Hanguang-jun, may I ask you a question?”
“Mn,” he permitted.
“You know talismans better than anyone else here, right?”
Lan Wangji had to stop himself from reminding the junior that he was actually second best to Wei Ying. So he steeled himself and replied with a simple nod.
The disciple continued, pulling out three talisman’s from his sleeves. “Which of these do you believe is the most powerful ward?”
Lan Wangji observed them intently. The action reminded him of the way Wei Ying would always ask for his input on his newest creations. That bright mind reflecting into the brightness in his voice and eyes. They way he would cheer when Lan Wangji used one of his talismans on a night hunt and reported back with thorough results. He didn’t have to look a second longer before determining the one on the left was the strongest. Its aura was vastly impressive for such young disciples, only appearing to be 14 or 15 years old. The other two felt like they were around their level, so he was curious as to who made the odd one out.
One of the other boys looked awestruck and the boy that presented Lan Wangji with the talismans beamed. “Hanguang-jun, they were all actually the same,” he admitted. “But I slightly modified this one.” He pointed to the odd one out. “I combined a basic ward with a glamor and—” “Aiya but what's even the point of that?” The last of the three boys complained, shaking his head. “Just inventing anything so you can seem innovative, huh?”
Lan Wangji sighed and reached down to grab the fake talisman. Now closer and with the knowledge of its deception, he could see how it tricked him before. “You should show this to your professor,” he praised.
The boy scratched his head, “I tried, but—er… Lan-laoshi said it doesn’t follow the curriculum so…”
Lan Wangji wasn’t surprised by that, it was just like way before. But just a little bit before, a junior disciple like him would be praised beyond comparison. Wei Ying would revel in his ideas and pick his brain for more. Wei Ying loved innovative minds like his, and he loved watching the juniors find their calling.
“I’ll speak with him,” he said resolutely.
The three boys looked thankful and bowed as Lan Wangji left.
The rest of his day went on as normal but he was still before he could enter the Jingshi that night. Tomorrow, Lan Sizhui would be there going through all of Wei Ying’s old things. Should he clean up for the first time since? Should he clean up everything? Should he erase all the evidence that Wei Ying was once alive and happy. Should he remove everything that made his house his home?
That night after deep contemplation, he cleaned up half of the room before going to sleep.
The next morning, he got dressed and right on cue, a knock was at the door. Lan Sizhui stood at the door sheepish waiting to be let inside. Lan Wangji took a final breath and moved over to allow Lan Sizhui in. It obviously wasn’t his first time in the Jingshi but he still looked around in wonder.
“Is it alright if I start over there?” He pointed to the far side of the room.
“Mn.”
Lan Wangji left himself to the other side of the room while Lan Sizhui looked around. He eyed every small trinket on the shelves, the seemingly endless boxes and boxes of notebooks and writing. None of the loud rustling and clamoring of him sorting through everything bothered Lan Wangji, who distracted himself with a book. He noticed a few moments later that the rustling had stopped and Lan Sizhui had settled himself on reading one small unassuming book. He sat on his heels as he read intently.
Suddenly his head sprung up and he nearly scurried away. “Sorry for the sudden leaving but I remembered I promised to meet with Jingyi!” He bowed apologetically. “I’ll come back and clean up when I return.” “No need,” Lan Wangji replied, unphased.
Lan Sizhui sped to the door, hesitated for a moment before placing that same small book onto Lan Wangji’s desk. “You should look through that, if you haven’t already.” He smiled and then finally left.
One again, it was quiet in the Jingshi but not nearly as cold. Spring was right around the corner and that usually meant bright blossoming trees and softer grass. Lan Wangji stared at the book in front of him as if blinking would cause it to disappear. It was brown and looked hand bound by Wei Ying himself. The pages in it were messy and jagged, some of them sticking out farther than the others, and some of the binding was coming loose in the corners.
Lan Wangji decided to give in and look at it. He felt the ruggedness of the leather jacket and the rough tweed tying it together. When he opened it up to the first page, written messily in the corner was “Planner”.
Because of course Wei Ying had a planner. Lan Wangji had recommended he use one to remember all of his ideas and plans throughout the day; his memory was always so fleeting. So it only made sense that Lan Wangji’s suggestions actually managed to get through to him at some point. He flipped through and most of the pages consisted of vague ideas for inventions, daily plans, and nonsensical lists that Lan Wangji couldn’t even begin to understand without further context.
Around a quarter of the way through, the entries about daily plans start getting longer.
Today I’m spending my whole day with Lan Zhan, finally he has some free time!
Today I need to go to Caiyi and buy some materials oh and also a gift for Lan Zhan—wait does it count as a gift if I use his money?
Tomorrow I need to wash my robes. Maybe I should try out those Lan robes until my old ones are dry…
Next week is A-Yuan’s birthday! I’m so excited I need to make a whole day of it!
Lan Wangji felt his heart stutter seeing all the entries. It was like he could still hear his voice as he read his words. He could imagine him sitting here in the Jinghi every morning writing about his plans, thinking about the future. Lan Wangji turned a few more pages and the entries became even longer.
I’m really honestly so tired this morning. Lan Zhan kept me up all night, I don’t know how he does it! He still wakes up early enough to bring me delicious food he makes himself! I’d like to do that for him one of these days—oh oh okay maybe that’s what I’ll do today. I’ll buy some ingredients.
Last night I went on a Night Hunt with the juniors. Note to self: you always need more talisman’s than you think when going with Jiang disciples as well. Another note to self: Broken legs hurt way worse in this body. Last note to self: Lan Zhan will not hesitate to pick me up as soon as I stumble even a little. I’m thankful, really, really but ahhhh I feel so bad making him worry!
Life update! I think old man Lan is actually starting to tolerate me! He was only glaring half as hard as he usually does when I accidentally choked on my own spit during dinner last night. Also why was no one going to tell me that A-Yuan is still getting taller? He’s going to be as tall as Lan Zhan by the time I’m all shriveled up and short—how embarrassing!!
Lan Wangji could read it all and it was like he was back there. He remembers Wei Ying telling him about Lan Qiren, the time he managed to wake up super early and make him breakfast, and the (first time) he broke his leg on a night hunt.
Starting tomorrow I am officially teaching a class! I’m so excited! I have to make a good impression since I don’t want old man Lan to immediately kick me out like when I was 15. I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll make Hanguang-jun look so good too. Still I’m not gonna stifle myself, I’ll teach whatever I think they can handle and then some. I remember being young with big ideas and no positive elders in my life supporting me. I wonder if I did how things would have gone? No need to dwell on the past I guess.
Lan Zhan has been busy with a dumb conference in LanlingJin and left me here alone and defenseless for two whole days! I’m honestly starting to lose it. Seriously, when did I become so crazy for him? Actually scratch that I know when. While I’m here without him I think I’ll clean up a bit, maybe wander somewhere far into the mountains with Chenqing and play a few songs. Maybe if I play Wangxian loud enough, Lan Zhan will appear? It worked before, didn’t it?
I totally forgot until I got an invite today about the festivals in Yunmeng! I haven’t gone in so long! I wasn’t expecting an invite from Jin Ling!! I’ll have to bring Lan Zhan and A-Yuan and Jingyi too. I’ll show them around more, tell some embarrassing stories about Jiang Cheng as a child, followed by the embarrassing stories from when I was a child just to balance it out. I wonder if… would Jiang Cheng be happy to see me? Maybe I shouldn’t go, I don’t know. I’ll ask Lan Zhan.
He did end up asking Lan Wangji about that. He remembers vividly telling him that he’s wanted there, he was invited.
Lan Wangji read more and more, completely ignoring that he was missing breakfast and lunch as sunlight pouring into the windows.
Here’s what no one tells you about being an average man, sickness is just horrible! In my old body I could handle a common cold like it was nothing more than an odd sneeze. But this? This is just excessive! I thought Mo Xuanyu would have enough cultivation to help with this but I was wrong. My dear Lan Zhan has been so gentle and caring for the past two days. So sweet, how did I deserve him? I mean it, like I know he tells me that he loves me all the time and I fully believe him, I trust Lan Zhan with my life. But this right here? In sickness and in health? I’ve never gotten to live so comfortably and softly before. It scares me, sometimes. I’ve been having more nightmares recently, not about the past but about the future. I’m worried that I’m going to lose it all again. It’s just all good, it’s all too good. I’m so happy and that scares me. Isn’t that odd?
Lan Wangji remembers hearing about the nightmares. He remember’s reassuring Wei Ying that no one would ever dare hurt them. That he’d protect him with his life but it would never come to that.
My body is weaker. I don’t mean that it’s weaker than my original body—I mean it’s more fragile than when I got it… I think? I broke my leg again, and Lan Zhan is being really nice about it. It wasn’t like anything crazy happened. I fell, sure, and from pretty high, but I had fallen worse and from higher before and was fine! I think my body is more fragile than before. Honestly, I think I’m aging. I don’t think I can be so reckless anymore. I’ve always thought that I could always bounce back—and well I’ve faced the consequences of that mindset before. For Lan Zhan’s sake, I think I’m going to ease up a bit.
Lan Wangji remembers the first time he was reminded so shockingly of Wei Ying’s fragile mortality. He broke his leg again, and couldn’t even put on a smile convincing enough for the new juniors. He was hurting bad and it was the longest recovery yet.
The sun had begun to set, but Lan Wangji continued reading.
Today I found my third grey hair—but you wanna know the worst part? I dug around Lan Zhan’s pretty little head today and y’know what I found? Not even a single one! How is that fair? Is he really going to remain perfect forever while I shrivel up like a grape? Is A-Yuan going to have to look after me like a frail old grandpa? Lan Zhan is going to carry me around everywhere and feed me and give me baths—okay well actually none of that sounds much different than how he’s always treated me. Ugh but what’s the point of getting married and growing old if we aren’t growing old together?! I’m putting in all the work right now! Ah Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, what am I going to do with you? What are you going to do with me? We should talk about it tonight, I’ll bring it up because I know he never would.
They did talk about it that night. Wei Ying insisted that they talk about it thoroughly before the thought slipped his mind. Neither of them could recall who started crying first.
Lan Wangji continued reading well into the night, completely enthralled with it all. It was Wei Ying, a new version of him he hadn’t gotten to see yet even after he was gone. It was everything they went through. there wasn't a single entry that didn’t mention him in some way. It made his heart flutter, they were intertwined. Their lives fully included and integrated the other.
He stilled his thumb at what was evidently the last entry, reading with a shaky breath. The handwriting was shaky and messy unlike its usual style. It was messy and clearly unintentional.
He gulped at the first line.
Dear Lan Zhan,
I hope you’re reading this. I don’t know how long it’s been since I died but I hope you’re finding this well. It can’t have been that long, I mean I’m far too tired to hide this anywhere entertaining for you to have to scour for. Knowing you, you probably read the entire journal. All my dirty little secrets—is nothing sacred anymore? Still, I hope it brings you some comfort. Lan Zhan, my love, I feel guilty leaving you behind to mourn me for a second time. Still I hope this time it will be easier for you. Will you burn joss paper for me this time, I wonder. I know you’re probably wondering how I feel about dying a second time. To be honest I’m a bit afraid, I’m a bit upset, but all in all. I’m satisfied.
Lan Zhan, you really changed my life and for that I cannot thank you enough. Between us there is no need for ‘sorry’s or ‘thank you’s but I will repeat myself to death anyway. With you I was able to laugh loudly, cry freely, and love like I didn’t know possible. I hope my soul lingers for just a while longer so that we can be reborn together. No matter where I end up I will find you again, I promise. There’s no getting rid of me, okay Lan Zhan? No matter how annoying I get, we’re soul tied. I can only hope that the path of us finding each other doesn’t involve nearly as much bloodshed. Next time, I hope we can raise A-Yuan together, next time I hope Wen Qing can watch him grow up. Next time, I hope I get to love you longer.
But this time, I got to love you Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun. I got to hold you and cherish you and be yours. I would do it all again just for it to end like this.
But just because this is where my story ends, it doesn’t mean yours is over. Lan-er-gege, I hope you haven’t been moping around in seclusion or doing nothing. A-Yuan still needs guidance, y’know! You still have responsibilities, Hanguang-jun! When I was gone before you managed to create a kinder world for him. You managed to raise the kindest, sweetest little boy. Lan Zhan, tell him I’m so so so proud of him. Also tell Jin Ling the same thing. That boy has become quite the man hasn’t he? Okay wait actually, I’ll leave all of them notes too. And one for Jiang Cheng of course. Would you be a dear and deliver those out for me? Thank you!
Finally, this is where I seriously say goodbye for the last time. It’s just so funny because I remember the first time I died I felt so completely numb, I felt worthless and like literal trash. But this time, I feel warm. I feel unmistakably warm. That’s all thanks to you Lan Zhan, my husband.
Thank you for all the love and support, now go and pass it on.
Love,
Wei Ying
Lan Wangji could hold back his tears, warmth began trickling down his cheeks as he cried while gripping the journal. He felt loved, he felt warm, and now sitting here years later, he felt guilty. Guilty for sitting around doing nothing, sitting around not doing what Wei Ying would want him doing. He’d be sad to see him sitting around living a quiet, boring life. He’d be pissed that he wasn’t helping teach the newest generation of juniors and walking them through night hunts. He’d be upset if he let that innovative student’s potential be wasted because of his unconventional thinking.
He was disrespecting Wei Ying by wallowing. He was disrespecting him by not taking every opportunity. He spent his last bout of mourning protecting innocent people from every corner of the cultivation world. This time he was going to protect a generation, he was going to use Wei Ying’s old writings and teachings and make sure he left his mark on the world. His story was far from over, there was still so much to do.
He settled on it then, to die now would be too many regrets to die with. His soul couldn’t be reborn with such a heavy heart.
Lan Sizhui came rushing in far past regular hours. The bright moonlight shining behind him. He was holding a letter in his hand, presumably the one from Wei Ying. He eyed the journal in Lan Wangji’s own arms and blinked at him encouragingly. Lan Wangji looked back up at him and nodded. There was a mutual understanding between them now. It wasn’t like before, Lan Wangji didn’t have to remember him alone. Didn’t have to silently uphold his honor. There was someone else that could attest to it too.
Neither of them would be here without Wei Ying for one reason or another. Thus, when Lan Wangji stood up and wrapped Lan Sizhui in a tight hug, it reminded them that he was gone but never, ever forgotten. As long as they had each other, Wei Ying still lived, his life mattered, his love forever lingered.
His kindness will never be forgotten.