Chapter Text
“B-but—Lan Zhan!”
Wei Wuxian’s arms flail wildly for a second before he pulls them back, sticking out his lower lip in an expression of mournful betrayal.
No use.
Lan Zhan’s gaze remains icy, unshattered by Wei Wuxian’s pleas.
“Entry into the Cloud Recesses without a jade token is forbidden.”
Wei Wuxian turns his pleading eyes to Jiang Cheng, reaching out to him, but his shidi just shoves him away, effectively ending Wei Wuxian’s attempt slip a hand into his pocket before it had even begun.
Wei Wuxian stumbles, exaggerated, just to show how cruel the shove was, before beginning to whine once more. “Aiyo, so cruel. Why am I always the one who gets in trouble?”
Jiang Cheng just gives him a Look, one that clearly says, maybe you should stop being so careless with your personal belongings.
In response, Wei Wuxian raises a hand and clutches at his chest. “Even you have turned against me? My own dearest shidi?”
There is no sympathy from dearest shidi. The rest of the disciples shift and avoid his gaze, each unwilling to give up their chance of a hot bath and warm bed after a long day of classes and a long evening of mischief in Caiyi.
So, he turns back to Lan Zhan. “Come on, Lan Zhan, you know me! It’s me! Just let me in!”
“Entry—”
Wei Wuxian groans and waves a hand before turning away. He does, however give Lan Wangji one last, mournful look over his shoulder.
“I don’t even have Subian,” he says. “I’ll have to walk the whole way down.”
Somehow, Lan Wangji’s gaze only grows more icy, his hand tightening around his scabbard.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen in pretend horror. “Oh no, Lan-er-gege, don’t poke me with your sword, please—”
That does it. Lan Wangji’s face twitches. He looks like he’s starting to seriously consider stabbing him.
So, Wei Wuxian laughs and bolts, racing down the mountain path, his cackling laughter echoing behind him—then thinning, fading, until the mountain swallows it whole.
Eventually he slows to a walk. Far above, the bright orange sky dims, bruising purple before sinking into dark blue. With the fading light comes a gust of wind, a sudden cold that sweeps over his arms and raises goosebumps under his sleeves. For a moment he considers running back up the path and begging Lan Wangji for a cloak, perhaps one trimmed with fox fur or—his mouth twitches—lined with the fur of soft little bunnies.
Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh and leaps onto a low boulder, casting his gaze down the mountain.
Caiyi town is still a smudge of glinting water and the first glow of lanterns. A shichen to get up and down, if he hurries, and by that time, it will be beyond curfew.
He blows out a long raspberry.
Perhaps it’s not the end of the world. If anything, it gives him an excuse to linger, to wander the night market in Caiyi. He can almost hear the clink of spoons against metal, smell the braised meat as it sizzles against the hot pans. Perhaps he can buy something for Lan Zhan, though the latter will most certainly interpret it as a bribe, and bribes are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.
He jumps back down.
The mountain path winds beneath his feet, every familiar curve greeting him in turn. Riding Subian would have been faster, sure, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind taking the long way every now and then.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he actually has no idea where Subian is. Most likely, it’s in his room. At least, that’s where it should be. Unless he’d left it at the training grounds. Or with Jiang Cheng. Or—
A shriek rings out, rudely cutting off the thought. Wei Wuxian goes still, head tilting to the side.
It doesn’t sound like a ghost. Or a restless corpse. The scream was much too high pitched.
Wei Wuxian turns towards the sound, his eyes searching for a moment—and bursts out laughing.
A little way down the path, something lanky and vaguely human-shaped dangles from the branches of a tree, tangled up in glowing spiritual rope and squawking like a very irate pheasant.
It is a person, a cultivator, one that can’t be more than a few years older than Wei Wuxian himself. It looks as if he’s only just gotten caught, as he is still half-sprawled on his side, one foot is tangled in rope, wrenched up at an uncomfortable angle. The rope hums softly with spiritual energy, clearly well made, clearly expensive.
The cultivator must have heard the faint snort of laughter in Wei Wuxian’s throat, as his head snaps to the side.
“Hey! Help me down!”
Wei Wuxian laughs harder.
“Ah—hah—very lucky of me. I was hoping to catch some pheasants! Pity this one has such a foul temper!”
The cultivator makes a face like he swallowed a rotten plum, and gives the net a kick.
“You—get me DOWN!”
Wei Wuxian snickers once more, but makes his way over to the rope that holds the net in the air. With a simple burst of spiritual energy, he’s able to send a little flame straight through the rope. The cultivator and net both drop to the ground.
This time Wei Wuxian at least tries to bite back his grin, because the thud is followed by a rather pained groan. The cultivator pushes himself up slowly, beginning to untangle himself from the net. He looks up with a baleful eye when Wei Wuxian offers his hand but takes it anyway.
“You could have warned me,” he says. Wei Wuxian simply chuckles and slings an arm around his shoulders, making him stumble.
“Aiyo, don’t be like that! You’re down now, no broken bones, no missing teeth. Let’s be friends! What’s your name? Mine’s Wei Wuxian.”
The cultivator stiffens, then turns his head away. “Yin Huan. From Moling.”
“Great delight, huh?” Wei Wuxian reaches out to lightly poke his scowling expression, like he’d do with Jiang Cheng whenever the latter was grumpy. “I’m heading down to Caiyi; you should come with me!”
This time Yin Huan jerks away, effectively untangling himself from Wei Wuxian’s touch. “Can’t. Night hunting.”
“All alone like this? Aiyah, no wonder you ran into trouble.”
“I brought a partner,” he says. “He just... tends to wander off.”
His eyes narrow for a moment, then he whistles, the sound splitting through the sharp air. A moment later there’s the sound of crunching grass and snapping branches as something runs towards them.
A large black dog bounds into the clearing, then skids to a stop. It stares at Wei Wuxian, body stiff, tail raised.
A low growl rumbles in its throat.
And Wei Wuxian goes utterly still.
It had been a point of contention between him and Jiang Cheng when they were children. Jiang Cheng had thought he saw no difference between a happy dog with a wagging tail and lolling tongue, and one with aggression in its body.
But Wei Wuxian knew—knows the difference. He knows because a happy dog is one he can run away from, duck behind Jiang Cheng, scramble up a tree and wail for rescue. A snarling dog is something that leaves every muscle stiff, every nerve frozen.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yin Huan glance at him, though with his gaze locked on the dog—the dog that is all hardened muscles under rippling skin, tall enough to come up to his waist—he has no idea what expression the young cultivator is making.
“What's wrong, Wei-xiong? He doesn’t bite.”
Sarcasm curls around every word, and Wei Wuxian feels his body begin to tremble, his lips trying to form words that won’t come.
No, no, no, please—please don’t—
All he can do is give a minute shake of his head, trying to convey that he doesn’t want the dog here, take it away, please—
“Heilang... Heilang, boy, go say hi.”
The dog takes a step forward, lowering its head. The skin of its mouth pulls back, baring a glint of teeth.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember turning to run. No—life slices down into shuddering moments, each a flash of light in a pitch-black room.
A foot planted against the ground.
A gasp of air.
The thunk of a body slamming into his back.
Chin hitting the ground and splitting open, a sharp sting of something that isn't pain because there is no time for pain—
Then the thing is on top of him, pinning him to the dirt, snarling—teeth—he sees them, and he flings up his arm, a desperate attempt to shield himself.
Something clamps onto the flesh, hot breath spilling out onto his skin, wet. For one absurd moment the pressure of its grip is almost comforting—like Lan Wangji grabbing his wrist, like—
The dark head whips to the side, and Wei Wuxian is carried with it, his ribs slamming against the ground, grit and dirt biting into his exposed skin. Screaming fills his ears, nearly drowning out the crack of bone. He kicks out blindly, his foot connecting with flesh with a dull thunk. Then again.
And Jiang Cheng is supposed to be here—he promised—
The thought spins away, lost in the snarl of the dog, the grinding of it’s teeth against muscle and tendon and bone. He can’t hear his own voice, only feels his throat contract as he tries to scream for Jiang Cheng—because Jiang Cheng is supposed to chase the dog away, Jiang Cheng said he would—he promised, ever since they were little—
A split second of release, then bite and hold and shake that bashes his head against the dirt, again and again. Then it rears back, and in that same breath, lunges for Wei Wuxian’s throat.
The bite never comes.
Instead, something with leathery pads and sharpened claws slams down on the soft skin of his throat, and whatever noise he’d been making cuts off into a wet gurgle. The dog snarls and barks, the sounds dripping with killing intent, but they’ve grown softer, somehow.
A sharp yelp.
Then—
Nothing.
Not silence, exactly. Just the absence of everything else. Just enough to let the slow ringing in his ears, the ragged gasps of his own breath, to take over.
Wei Wuxian blinks.
Turns his head.
He sees a mass of red and gray, fingers that lay limp and unresponsive to his call for movement. A bend that shouldn’t be there.
This time it’s the muscles in his stomach that spasm. Wei Wuxian gags, once, the sour taste of acid bubbling up in his throat.
He draws back an arm to press his elbow into the dirt, to push himself up. A hand shoves down against his chest, and he collapses back with a gasp.
“Still think it’s funny?”
Wei Wuxian blinks, tries to focus on the thing hovering above him. One blink. Two.
Funny.
The word doesn’t make sense at first.
He sees Yin Huan, a small glint of teeth poking out from his curled lips. The cultivator’s weight presses down on Wei Wuxian’s abdomen, legs locked around his waist, fingers curling around the collar of his robes.
“Do you have any idea,” Yin Huan says, “how humiliating that was?”
…Oh.
That.
Blink.
“Here. Eat this.”
Yin Huan's hand vanishes into his pocket—and then slams over Wei Wuxian’s mouth, fingers digging into his Wei Wuxian’s jaw, forcing something hard and small past his lips.
It’s bitter. Acrid.
Wrong.
Wei Wuxian jerks, head twisting side to side, but the hand clamps onto his mouth. He makes a strangled noise and bites down hard, teeth scraping skin and sending the taste of copper over his tongue. Yin Huan hisses and tightens his grip. He tries to spit, to cough it back up, but the hand seals tighter, pinching his nose shut.
Panic flares. He can’t breathe.
Wei Wuxian bucks weakly, nails clawing at Yin Huan’s wrist, at the dirt, at anything. His arm screams in protest and his strength falters in a way that makes no sense—he hasn’t lost this much blood, he shouldn’t be this—
Then his body betrays him, throat working on instinct, and the foul taste slides down.
Yin Huan pulls his hand away.
Wei Wuxian coughs violently, choking, spittle dribbling from his mouth as he drags in air that feels thin and insufficient. His heartbeat pounds in his ears.
Somewhere nearby, the dog barks.
And suddenly nothing else matters because the dog—
The terror comes back all at once, bright and sharp, burning through his chest. Wei Wuxian thrashes, claws at the ground. One palm slams against the dirt.
“Still fighting?” The words come breathless, tinged with something like a laugh. “You really are annoying.”
The cultivator’s voice comes from somewhere to his left, his weight no longer pressing down on him. Wei Wuxian lurches to his feet, trying to surge away from the noise, but the world tilts violently. He manages two stumbling steps before his legs give out, and the breath is knocked from his body.
The ground beneath him spins, sending dizziness careening through his pounding head.
Oh.
That’s... not right.
The dog barks again. Loud. Too near.
Wei Wuxian tries to move, to pull his legs back underneath him.
His body doesn’t listen. Blackness bleeds into his vision, filling his limbs with a cold, numbing liquid. He makes a broken sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob and digs his nails into the dirt, trying to drag himself forward, trying to get away from the dog.
Fingers tangle into his hair, yanking his head up. Wei Wuxian blinks, trying to clear rapidly dimming vision, but the only thing he can make out is a dark smudge, the edges overlapping, melding with the shapes of trees. A drop of blood slips down his temple and into his eye, coloring the world red.
“Hey, I asked you a question.”
The words reach him late, stretched thin.
The darkness presses closer. It’s reached his waist now, crawling up his ribs, quieting the heaving breaths.
Jiang Cheng—
He’s going to…
The word tries to form, but it cracks apart in his mind, the pieces scattering.
Lan Zhan—
The world tips sideways.
Lan...
The blackness swallows him whole.