Chapter Text
Lan Wangji slept straight through two and a half days.
Qinghe was not renowned for its comfort, but even its sparse rooms and stone walls felt like pure luxury after weeks of sleeping on the ground, shielded only by a tent. The only fault was Qinghe’s thin mattress could not compare to the bedding from Chang-jie that Jiang Wanyin had prepared for him, the thick silk bedding that had kept him and his son warm and comfortable towards the latter half of their journey. But after Lan Wangji had finished washing himself, soaking in the mountain hot springs until his fingertips became as ridged as tree bark, he found someone had carefully arranged his thick silk bedding on top of the thin mattress. When he fell into bed, sleep instantly claimed him.
A-Yuan had been taken by the Qinghe nurses who had proper supplies for a young child, and for the first time since he was born, Lan Wangji spent longer than a day separated from his son. He spent it all in blissful unconsciousness, and when he eventually stirred awake, one of the nurses was sitting beside his bed to hand him his son as soon as he opened his eyes.
A-Yuan’s hands were full, in one hand an intricately cut stone fox, and in the other, one of the Yunmeng disciple’s wooden creations. He was disinterested in Lan Wangji’s fussing over him, more intent on whacking the two toys against each other.
“Xiao-gongzi was washed and fed. He sleeps well. He is very healthy,” the nurse said.
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji murmured.
The nurse bowed and left the mother and son alone.
“Little one, have you grown bigger in two days already?”
Lan Wangji poked his son’s cheeks. The Unclean Realm’s air seemed to agree with A-Yuan. His eyes were bright and his face flush with good food and plenty of rest. He made a loud gurgling sound and suddenly fell forward into Lan Wangji’s chest, pressing himself as close as he could to his mother.
Lan Wangji rubbed his baby’s back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt the feeling of relief, of safety and comfort wash over him. He pressed his face into the soft downy crown of A-Yuan’s head. He inhaled his milky baby smell.
A-Yuan giggled into Lan Wangji’s chest and kicked his legs, catching Lan Wangji’s belly. Lan Wangji grunted and pulled his son away. A-Yuan had a big grin on his face and kicked his legs some more.
“You will be walking any day now,” Lan Wangji said and he felt his spirits flag at the thought. Every day A-Yuan grew bigger and older, every day they were farther and farther away from the last time he saw his brother and uncle.
Lan Wangji got out of bed and hitched A-Yuan against his hip. He needed to see Nie-zongzhu and ask for proper news on Cloud Recesses.
Stepping out of his room, Lan Wangji faced a series of long, narrow stone hallways. He chose one at random and walked down it, his feet echoing on the stone even though his step had been cultivated gently. He passed two young men carrying laundered sheets and they pointed him the way of the main hall. He heard them dissolve into fierce whispering as soon as his back was turned. There was no white ribbon on his brow, but the child in his arms did a far better job identifying him.
The hallways opened up the further he walked, and eventually the grey walls grew colorful with heavy banners, embroidered with Nie history. Lan Wangji began to recognize the pictures from the frequent visits of his childhood and he soon found a familiar figure in dark green and grey.
“Lan Wangji!” Nie Huaisang ran towards them, feet pattering against the stone floor. “Oh, it’s good to see you!”
“Nie Huaisang.” Lan Wangji felt a rare smile approach his face although he tamed it down to a polite nod. “It has been a while.”
“Oh, and look at the little treasure,” Nie Huaisang cooed, leaning in towards A-Yuan. The baby made a shy sound and reached out a chubby fist. Nie Huaisang let him grab the tip of his, surely very expensive, fan.
“Let go, A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji said, gently pulling his son away when he seemed disinclined to release his hold.
“Oh, it’s fine, let him have it if he wants. With the way things are going with my brother, this is the closest I’m getting to being an uncle. Get ready for a lot of extravagant toys, I need someone to spoil.”
“I am sure Nie-zongzhu will procure an heir eventually,” Lan Wangji said diplomatically.
Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “Knowing him, he’ll dig up some fully grown man, a general or something, probably older than him! And call him an heir. Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake.” His voice lowered. “I may need your help in a delicate task.”
Lan Wangji’s eyebrows raised slightly.
“Nothing serious, well, nothing too serious. Come with me, I’ll tell you on the way.”
Nie Huaisang always moved with a kind of nervous energy even when nothing was wrong, so Lan Wangji found it difficult to gauge how concerned he should be. He followed closely by Nie Huaisang’s side as the man began to speak.
“The two of them have been shut up in a room for days, barely eating, definitely not sleeping. My brother is so thick-skulled, he thinks because he feels fine, everyone else feels fine. But surely he needs to rest, I mean look at yourself!”
“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji said, not really a question, just a sudden need to say his name.
“Yes, I’ve begged him a dozen times to take a break, but he is as stubborn as my brother! I swear, he can barely stand on two legs. The last time I saw him, he didn’t even look me in the eye, he stared off somewhere behind my shoulder. What is the point of trying to formulate a war plan when you are hallucinating, let me ask you!”
Nie Huaisang spoke quickly and anxiously, and with each word, Lan Wangji felt a mix of worry and anger rise within himself. Worry for Jiang Wanyin, but the anger, he couldn’t quite place. Was it at the young sect leader, so headstrong and proud that he would not excuse himself for a moment of rest? Or was it at himself, for so easily taking the comfort that was offered to him, handing over his son with barely a second thought, and having no thoughts whatsoever at advancing a war initiated by the destruction of his own clan?
“Anyway, he’ll listen to you, heavens knows he’s tired of listening to my nagging. Please, Lan Wangji, you have to convince him to sleep before he actually passes out in my brother’s war room.”
Before Lan Wangji could sort his thoughts, Nie Huaisang slowed before a set of towering, carved doors and threw them open.
“Playtime is over,” he declared grimly to the room. “I’ve brought along a monitor.”
Lan Wangji entered the room, feeling slightly foolish with A-Yuan in his arms. Nie Mingjue and Jiang Wanyin looked up at the intruders. They stood around a large stone table upon which a detailed map was spread; there were multiple stone figures clustered here and there.
Nie-zongzhu frowned. “Huaisang, please, we’ve talked about this…”
But Lan Wangji didn’t really hear him. His eyes were on Jiang Wanyin immediately.
Jiang Wanyin’s hair shone with grease in the sunlight, limply falling around his ears; his face was pale but his eyes were rimmed with pink and his mouth was cracked and crimson. His back was straight but he leaned against the table as if for support. And he was still wearing the same robes he had on when they arrived at Qinghe Nie.
Unacceptable, Lan Wangji thought, and the anger rose up in him.
“Lan Wangji—” Jiang Wanyin said, holding his hands up between them almost like he was trying to fend off the storm he saw coming towards him.
“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji said in a low voice, approaching him. “You are being foolish.”
Two bright red spots appeared on Jiang Wanyin’s cheeks.
“You are not my monitor,” he hissed.
“You are being foolish,” Lan Wangji maintained. “You can barely stand.”
Jiang Wanyin’s hands twisted in his robes; his eyes flickered across the stone table where Nie Mingjue was still being lectured by his brother, as if embarrassed that the other sect leader would overhear them.
“I am fine,” Jiang Wanyin said tightly, returning his gaze to Lan Wangji. They were close. Lan Wangji could see more clearly the pallor in his face, the bruises around his eyes, the general exhaustion of his mouth.
“Do you think I am blind?”
Jiang Wanyin raised his hand again, placating. It only made Lan Wangji angrier.
“Of course I will rest before we ride to Qishan, you do not need to worry about my sword. But it is imperative—”
“I am not speaking about Qishan. I am not speaking about your sword,” Lan Wangji said heatedly. “I- I am…worried about you.”
A storm of emotion flickered over Jiang Wanyin’s face. To Lan Wangji’s dismay, the man’s mouth trembled three times before he wrested control over himself and forced his lips into a thin line.
“That is very kind, Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Wanyin finally said flatly. “I can assure you there is no need to worry on my behalf.”
Taken aback and stung, Lan Wangji couldn’t summon any more words and then he realized that the room was deathly quiet. The Nie brothers had fallen silent and were staring at them. Nie Huaisang had hidden the lower half of his face with his fan, but his eyes were crinkled in amusement. Both of Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows were raised high.
“Wangji, you can put the fault on me,” Nie-zongzhu said. “I have been an unthinking host—”
“A bad host,” Nie Huaisang muttered, and his brother glared down at him.
“—an inconsiderate host,” he allowed. “Jiang-zongzhu, anything you wish for will be prepared for you. I would consider it a great favor if you partook in them to your own comfort. Wangji was right—”
Nie Huaisang nudged him hard with his elbow.
“—Wangji and my brother were right. It does us no good to wear ourselves out before battle, especially after your long journey. Wen Ruohan would crow if he knew how we were acting. Please.”
The doors opened at Nie Mingjue’s word and two servants came in to escort Jiang Wanyin. Stiffly, Jiang Wanyin applied his hands towards the Nie brothers, and then towards Lan Wangji. He stalked out of Nie Mingjue’s war room with his head held high.
A-Yuan whined. Lan Wangji swallowed against the tightness in his throat. A-Yuan’s whining turned to upset cries, and Lan Wangji pet his back without much thought. His attention was on the doors through which Jiang Wanyin had disappeared and he didn’t see the Nie brothers exchange glances.
“Lan Wangji, we should make sure you have what you need as well,” Nie Huaisang said, his cheerful tone stark in the heavy air Jiang Wanyin had left in his absence. “And let’s get the baby some food in his belly.”
Nie Huaisang took his arm and led him out of the war room. Lan Wangji let the young man’s chatter carry him away.
“Of course, anything you need or want, just ask, and let me know if you ever want a break, I’d be happy to play auntie to this little dumpling, oh, may I hold him some time, I promise I’m so careful, you should see me with the songbirds, da-ge was certain I was going to accidentally crush them all within the first hour—”
-
Lan Wangji did not see Jiang Wanyin the rest of the day. It was probably for the best. He was hurt by Jiang Wanyin’s words, he was hurt by his tone, when Lan Wangji was trying to help him. He was hurt that Jiang Wanyin listened to Nie Mingjue over himself.
But if he thought about it properly, he found that he really did not have a basis to be upset. He had no right to expect Jiang Wanyin to take his word over another sect leader; he had no right to expect Jiang Wanyin to take his word at all.
In the afternoon, Nie Mingjue invited Lan Wangji back into his war room to discuss strategy and feeling silly holding a baby while discussing military movements, he handed A-Yuan off to a delighted Nie Huaisang. By the time Nie Mingjue released him, it was past dinner, and when he found Nie Huaisang, the man was gently rocking A-Yuan in a stone crib lined with enough down to warm a dozen birds. The baby was fast asleep.
Nie Huaisang made a shooing motion with his hand.
“Go wash and eat,” he whispered. “I’ll watch this one until you’re done.”
“First,” Lan Wangji said softly, coming to sit next to Nie Huaisang. His hands were in his sleeves so that the other man couldn’t see how they shook. “I must ask you. Has there been any word from Cloud Recesses?”
Nie Huaisang’s face fell. He looked at A-Yuan’s still figure, curled up in the thick blanket, and rocked him harder.
“No good word,” he said quietly. “But no word of ill either. It has all been very quiet, I’m sure purposely so. They want to keep the sects separated, cut off from each other. What we have heard…” his voice trailed off. Lan Wangji did not press him. His eyes were hot and focused very hard on the ground. “What we have received, my brother will not want you to know but you should. We did not hear about the invasion of Cloud Recesses or the destruction of Lotus Pier from their people or from rumors.”
“How?” Lan Wangji asked in a hoarse voice.
Nie Huaisang had stopped rocking A-Yuan.
“We received first a Lan ribbon stained with blood. Then a Jiang robe, also stained with blood. As to who sent them…”
“Wen Ruohan.”
Nie Huaisang voice shook slightly. “It is not a warning. It is a provocation. He wants us to come to him. He knows, the Unclean Realm…”
It was a fortress, stone upon mountain rock. It would be a long, drawn-out, expensive siege if Wen Ruohan attacked it directly, unlike Lotus Pier’s exposed river channels and Cloud Recesses open fields.
“Then,” Lan Wangji said, looking up sharply. His heart was pounding. “They will be prepared for an attack. They will welcome it.” He met Nie Huaisang’s eyes, similarly wild. “Nie-zongzhu must know this, he cannot—”
“Do you think you can stop him?” Nie Huaisang’s voice cracked on the last word. “Do you think he was not already gathering weapons when he first saw that bloody ribbon? My brother is easily provoked by everyday occurrences. An attack by the Wen on the Lan: it is impossible to reason with him. I have tried. It would be easier to try and stop a storm with a paper fan.”
Lan Wangji knew it was all true. Nothing in the world could stop Nie Mingjue once he had set his mind to something.
“The only hope,” Nie Huaisang continued in a small voice. “Is that Wen Ruohan could not have counted on either your escape or Jiang Wanyin bringing a contingent of soldiers to meet us.”
“Disciples,” Lan Wangji said softly.
Nie Huaisang looked at him in confusion.
“They are not soldiers,” Lan Wangji said. “They are young, barely trained disciples.”
Nie Huaisang’s delicate jaw was set when he said, “They will be soldiers soon enough.”
-
It was well into the night when Lan Wangji wandered down a hallway towards the kitchen and saw a figure slumped over in a chair. It was close to the entrance of the Unclean Realm, and he approached it in concern.
“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji said, surprise coloring his voice.
Jiang Wanyin’s head shot up. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles protruded in half-circles underneath. He was in clean robes now, but he still looked horrible, somehow less rested than when they’d been on the road and he was awake all night planning their trek.
“Lan Wangji,” he greeted faintly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“A-Yuan cannot sleep,” Lan Wangji said slowly. “I wanted to see if there was some cooked carrot left in the kitchen…I could ask you the same question.”
Jiang Wanyin rubbed a palm over his face. “I was…getting a drink of water,” he said, not looking at Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji’s brow furrowed. Jiang Wanyin had never lied to him before. And, “You are not a good liar. If you do not want to tell me, you do not have to.”
Jiang Wanyin’s hands fell between his crooked legs. “I apologize,” he said, sounding incredibly insincere.
There was a prolonged moment of silence between them. The cordial thing to do would be to leave Jiang Wanyin alone, but Lan Wangji lingered. He felt somehow that Jiang Wanyin was on the verge of speaking, and just needed time to get the words out of the tangle in his throat.
“It’s,” Jiang Wanyin said finally. To Lan Wangji’s horror, there was the threat of tears in his voice. “It’s my sister.”
Lan Wangji felt his heart sink.
“Has there been word?” he asked quietly.
“The problem is that there has not been word,” Jiang Wanyin said in a wretched tone, uncaring to hide his agitation. “My mother sent her off to Lanling during the attack. Nie-zongzhu dispatched a message to Koi Tower to see if she arrived safely, but they have not responded. If she was there, they would have responded with haste.”
Lan Wangji realized with a pang that Jiang Wanyin was sitting in the hallway to be the first to receive any news.
“Jiang Wanyin—"
“Please, don’t worry yourself over me,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, staring at the floor. “A-Yuan must be hungry.”
But Lan Wangji did not move, and Jiang Wanyin did not repeat himself.
“This morning.” Jiang Wanyin stared at the floor like he wished it would swallow him up. “I know…you were trying to help.”
Lan Wangji knew he was apologizing, and he was not so proud that he would only accept a plainly spoken apology.
“I am glad there could be some reprieve for you, even brief,” he said softly.
Jiang Wanyin’s head lowered further and further down towards the floor until Lan Wangji realized that he had buried his face in his hands, almost between his knees. There was no sound, but eventually, Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders started trembling.
Lan Wangji had a brief moment of shock, but he quickly smothered it. Slowly, he crouched beside Jiang Wanyin and, tentatively, he put a hand on the trembling shoulder. It was the barest touch. He could easily see Jiang Wanyin’s head snapping up, jerking away from Lan Wangji’s hand, covering up embarrassment with more anger, more words that stung.
But Jiang Wanyin did not do any of those things. He stayed where he was, bent over almost in half, his shoulders shaking harder, and a small sob escaping the clasp of his fingers over his face.
Lan Wangji said nothing, kept his place beside the sect leader, kept his hand on his shoulder. He felt his own throat tighten at the sounds that burst out of Jiang Wanyin, thick, heavy sounds that cut off with a worrisome intake of breath, like he was choking on them.
Slowly, slowly, the silence between the choking sounds lengthened, and they slowed until Jiang Wanyin removed his hands from his face, took a shaky breath from between his knees, and raised his head.
Lan Wangji’s hand immediately fell away.
If he was not so worried, so heartsick for the other man, he would have been surprised and envious of Jiang Wanyin’s face that appeared to be barely touched by his tears other than slightly swollen eyelids. There were not even any errant tears in his eyes or on his cheeks.
“It has been a long day,” he muttered in a hoarse voice. “You were right.”
A cross between another apology and a thanks.
With a burst of boldness, Lan Wangji reached out and tucked a strand of Jiang Wanyin’s hair that had loosened back into place.
He felt something, some gratification at understanding Jiang Wanyin so well, his veiled apologies. Something like satisfaction. He felt he was allowed this.
Jiang Wanyin turned his head slightly and looked Lan Wangji in the face.
“You bathed and changed,” Lan Wangji said softly. “But I heard you saw to your disciples all day and have not slept or eaten yet.”
There was an extended period where both young men stared into each other’s eyes, and Lan Wangji was uncertain if Jiang Wanyin would be angry with his interference again. But then a softness rounded Jiang Wanyin’s mouth as he stared at Lan Wangji.
“You are like a mother hen,” he said, amused in his rasp. “Clucking and fussing endlessly. Isn’t one son enough?”
Lan Wangji knew when he was being teased, and he knew when it was meant to hurt. This was not that.
Quietly, he clucked his tongue.
A startled smile flooded Jiang Wanyin’s face and a strange barking sound burst out of him. It took Lan Wangji a moment to realize that Jiang Wanyin was laughing, and then he realized immediately after that he had never even seen the Jiang sect leader smile before. This was the first time.
“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Wanyin said in a lighter tone Lan Wangji had ever heard from him. “Nobody told me that Hanguang-jun had a sense of humor.”
Lan Wangji stood up suddenly and Jiang Wanyin kept his eyes on him, his face tilting up to reach Lan Wangji’s gaze. His expression danced with laughter. He still looked exhausted.
Lan Wangji ignored the warm feeling in his cheeks. “Come to the kitchen with me,” he said. “Eat something and then sleep. I will tell a servant to wake you if word from Koi Tower arrives.”
Jiang Wanyin got to his feet good-naturedly, as if he were always so obedient to Lan Wangji’s words. “Will you cook for me, Hanguang-jun? What an honor.”
Every time Jiang Wanyin used his title, Lan Wangji’s face heated.
“There are cooked rice and marinated eggs,” Lan Wangji said stiffly. He was a mother, not a wife.
In the kitchen, Jiang Wanyin fell asleep into his plate of half-eaten rice and eggs. He didn’t wake when Lan Wangji gently cleaned his face off, put away the dishes, and gathered Jiang Wanyin into his arms. The man was lighter than he thought.
He put Jiang Wanyin into the bedroom next to his and A-Yuan’s and when he returned to his own room A-Yuan had fallen asleep, long ago given up on his mother for a late-night snack.
-
The days changed slowly in the Unclean Realm and yet time seemed to race towards them.
The Jiang disciples were fitted with armor and weapons and taken away to train in the underground caverns of the Unclean Realm. Jiang Wanyin and Nie Mingjue spent almost every minute in the war room, discussing their plans. In the evening, Jiang Wanyin took up his own sword and Lan Wangji offered to duel him. They found that Lan Wangji was more adept with the sword, but when Jiang Wanyin released his mother’s whip, he easily took the lead.
After, they both bathed in the hot springs (separately, Jiang Wanyin almost tripped over himself to leave when Lan Wangji had started to undress the first time, expecting to share the pool) and Jiang Wanyin came to Lan Wangji’s bedroom to see A-Yuan.
The child had grown intensely attached to Jiang Wanyin and after the first night when Lan Wangji had returned with food and found Jiang Wanyin laying on the floor, snoring loudly with A-Yuan curled up on his chest asleep as well, A-Yuan refused to be coaxed to sleep unless Jiang Wanyin was there.
Nie Huaisang was disappointed every time he reached for the child and A-Yuan tucked his face into Jiang Wanyin’s chest, no matter how many treats or toys Nie Huaisang offered.
Soon, two weeks passed.
Lan Wangji almost, almost forgot that there was a need to be worried at all. Jiang Wanyin spent every night in his room after crossing his sword with Lan Wangji, eating with him, speaking with him quietly through the night, always falling asleep before him, a testament to his exhaustion considering the Lan’s schedule, A-Yuan asleep as well and stubbornly clinging to the sect leader like a worm to a leaf.
It allowed Lan Wangji to carefully monitor the sect leader’s needs, since the man was unwilling to prioritize them himself. A-Yuan was a great help in this respect. The child slept early in the night, and with his little body over Jiang Wanyin’s ribs, the sect leader was forced to remain still. The babe’s slow, deep, peaceful breaths acted like a guide and sleep came easily to Jiang Wanyin when Lan Wangji dimmed the lanterns.
At the beginning, Jiang Wanyin slept on the floor, stubbornly laid out on his back with all his limbs extended to accommodate the little child permanently affixed to his chest, but eventually Lan Wangji managed to convince him into his bed, using the excuse of his son. It was so chaste that Jiang Wanyin’s awkward attempts at clearly signaling his intentions and distance from Lan Wangji only highlighted how ridiculous it was that anything untoward could be said about the arrangement. There was a sleeping child in the bed, for heaven’s sake.
Lan Wangji could remind Jiang Wanyin that they had shared a bed before, and that Jiang Wanyin had put his arms around him while in a shared bed, but neither man brought it up.
Lan Wangji was lulled into a false sense of calm that was immediately shattered one night when they were returning from the hot springs, his sore muscles comfortably warmed and eased from the bath, and his mind on dinner and not war plans.
“We leave in three days,” Jiang Wanyin said quietly.
He was wrapped in a borrowed Qinghe robe, subdued and grey, the back of his neck still damp. It made him look quite young, too young to be leading a battlefield in three days.
“So soon,” Lan Wangji said faintly. He had not been back in Nie Mingjue’s war room or involved in the war plan discussions. He was perfectly content with spending as much time with his son as he could before he left. Even he would not bring his son to a battlefield. He had always been good at following directions. Let the sect leaders come up with the strategy; he would use his sword and drive it home into Wen Ruohan’s chest.
“Nie-zongzhu wants to leave before word gets out that we have consolidated forces with Qinghe.”
“I meant to ask Nie Huaisang if there were any spare Lan robes,” Lan Wangji said, deep in thought. There was so much to do in three days. He had to polish his sword, leave the nurses with detailed instructions on A-Yuan, write a note for when (when, not if) his brother finally arrived at the Unclean Realm.
Jiang Wanyin stopped in his tracks and Lan Wangji stopped beside him. Jiang Wanyin turned so that they were facing, his face horribly disfigured in an attempted half-sympathetic, half-soothing mask, and Lan Wangji knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“Lan Wangji—"
“I am going,” Lan Wangji said stubbornly. “You need every sword available to you.”
“You cannot,” Jiang Wanyin said, a note of pleading in his voice. “I understand how difficult it must be, but you absolutely must stay here.”
“It is a trap,” Lan Wangji said.
“I know. That is why you must stay.”
“You are talking nonsense,” Lan Wangji said, starting to feel his face heat up. “I am a son of Gusu. My home was destroyed. I have every right to be there.”
“Of course you have the right, but- listen. Nie-zongzhu made me promise to convince you to stay. Is he not your surrogate guardian?”
Lan Wangji’s temper flared. “My guardian?” he echoed incredulously. “I am older than you, Jiang Wanyin. I have not had a guardian in four years. No one can tell me to stay when I want to go. Especially nobody in Qinghe Nie.”
Jiang Wanyin’s dismayed expression showed he understood his error and he tried to backtrack. “What about A-Yuan—”
“He has transitioned well to the nurses here. He does not need me for any immediate physical needs anymore.”
“No, Lan Wangji.” Jiang Wanyin reached out and in a rare gesture, caught Lan Wangji’s hand in his. He pressed it, as if trying to imprint his message onto Lan Wangji’s skin. His palm was hot against Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji suddenly found his heartbeat racketing up in a way that had nothing to do with anger.
He faintly understood that when he had touched Jiang Wanyin in comfort that night in the empty hall, he had opened some kind of door between them. A door that allowed Jiang Wanyin to hold his hand tight like it was precious to him.
“Listen to me. You know that I speak clumsily, but you also know what I mean. You were in seclusion for close to a year, you had a child, and then you were thrown onto the road. You’ve barely had a week or two to recover. You would be a valuable asset if you joined us on the field, of course you would, but you must allow that you are not in your normal state. We could not guarantee your safety, you cannot guarantee your safety. It is just not something we are willing to risk.”
Lan Wangji fell silent. He felt small and wounded by Jiang Wanyin’s words, even as Jiang Wanyin clutched his hand.
‘We,’ Jiang Wanyin had said. ‘Us.’ Inclusive words that excluded Lan Wangji. Did Jiang Wanyin already see himself as a unit of leaders with Nie Mingjue? And what did that leave Lan Wangji as? Something to be protected. Something to be coddled, while the others fought a war on his behalf, on his clan’s behalf.
“I spoke inelegantly again,” Jiang Wanyin said quietly in the face of Lan Wangji’s hurt. “I apologize. I am not good at this. But I need you to agree to this so badly that I cannot think clearly.” He paused, collecting his thoughts, then, “It will not matter to A-Yuan if the war is won but you are lost. It will not matter to anyone. If you come with us, there is a chance we win the war, but lose everything else. For Gusu Lan, for Qinghe Nie. For Yunmeng Jiang.”
Lan Wangji’s eyes were hot.
“And besides.” Jiang Wanyin was very close to him. He spoke in a low voice. If their conversation was anything but this, it would almost be sentimental: their hands joined, his hushed tone that was only meant for Lan Wangji. “You are waiting on word from your brother, aren’t you? Surely the message will be sent here rather than to the field. You must be here to receive it. Gusu Lan must be preserved. You must stay.”
Lan Wangji pulled his hand out of Jiang Wanyin’s grip and did not allow himself to feel guilt at the hurt on Jiang Wanyin’s face when their fingers separated.
“Nie Mingjue told you to say those words to me,” he stated with certainty. “He might talk to me directly rather than sending a messenger.”
“Lan Wangji—”
“It is late,” Lan Wangji said flatly. They were by his room. “Thank you for conveying Nie-zongzhu’s message. You must excuse me.”
He closed his bedroom door in Jiang Wanyin’s face, turning the lock with an emphatic click although there was no world where Jiang Wanyin would force his way into the room uninvited. He put the image of Jiang Wanyin’s soft, wounded face out of his mind.
A-Yuan was kicking in the sheets on his bed, wide awake although he was supposed to be drowsing off. He looked up at Lan Wangji and gurgled, turning his head around to find Jiang Wanyin.
“He is not here tonight,” Lan Wangji said. “You will have to make do with your old mother.”
A-Yuan blinked and began making babbling sounds to himself. He managed to turn himself onto his belly and started to crawl towards the edge of the bed.
“Did you not hear me?” Lan Wangji said. He scooped the child up and A-Yuan now made a loud cry of protest. “Just sleep by yourself.”
A-Yuan struggled in Lan Wangji’s arms and burst into loud tears.
Jiang Wanyin’s room was next to theirs. Even with the heavy stone wall separating them, Lan Wangji knew he could hear the child’s cries.
H squeezed his eyes shut and held his son tighter despite A-Yuan’s furious tantrum. Over the baby’s screaming cries, Lan Wangji could pretend the sobs that slipped from his mouth didn’t exist, and as his baby’s tears fell onto his robes, he could pretend that his own were not falling down his face.
-
The next day, neither of them spoke to each other, and come nighttime, A-Yuan threw a huge fuss again, and refused to sleep. A nurse noticed and passed Lan Wangji a vial of sleeping drought.
“He always slept so well,” the nurse said. “But he’s coming up on the worst age. No need to worry, Lan-er-gongzi, it is normal.”
Lan Wangji caught glimpses of Jiang Wanyin throughout the day, but the other man was always staring resolutely at the floor, and Lan Wangji wasn’t going to try and catch him. The Unclean Realm was buzzing with activity anyway, and there was little time to breathe, let alone find a quiet moment to talk.
Another day passed similarly, but then when morning broke on the third day, Lan Wangji woke and realized that should anything, anything happen (and anything could happen, it was war, it was a trap), there was a chance this day would be the last time he saw Jiang Wanyin.
The thought of that alone almost paralyzed him.
He left A-Yuan to the care of the nurses, the child still sleeping after fitfully crying through the night, and scoured the Unclean Realm for the other man. It was such a stupid argument that they’d had, he almost forgot why they weren’t talking when they should have been utilizing every second together while time was still guaranteed.
He thought this all through the morning, searching the training room, the war room, the front hall, to no avail. He found Nie Huaisang, but the man didn’t know where Jiang Wanyin and was similarly districted. A great sense of unease hung over the Unclean Realm. Everyone whispered instead of speaking normally, running place to place instead of walking,
It was halfway through the day that they passed each other in the hallway, both men braking abruptly at the sight of the other, both of them red-cheeked.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Jiang Wanyin said, somewhat breathlessly.
“I—”
“Let me apologize before you say anything. I do not want there to be any ill feelings between us before I leave. I spoke harshly towards you, I always do. I did not mean to hurt you.” He said the words all in a rush like they’d been building up and held back and now were released and unable to be stopped.
Lan Wangji swallowed. “If you had let me speak, I would not let you apologize,” he said in a quiet voice. Somehow they’d drawn close to each other, awkwardly but irresistibly. “I took my frustrations out on you. It should be me apologizing.”
Jiang Wanyin seemed to shift even closer. Lan Wangji thought he could feel the man’s warm breath against his cheek.
“Let us say no more apologies between us.”
Lan Wangji looked into Jiang Wanyin’s face, the flushing of his skin, the eyes that found Lan Wangji’s gaze, soft and dark.
“Jiang Wanyin…”
There was a faint sound of a throat clearing and the two of them jerked apart.
Nie Mingjue said, “I did not mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang Wanyin said loudly. “I’ll see you later, Lan Wangji. Find me before I ride out, won’t you?” He lowered his head to Nie Mingjue and hurried away, down the hall. Almost forlornly, Lan Wangji watched him go.
“I’m sorry, Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said, following his eyes down the hall. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But I needed to check with you about A-Yuan…”
Lan Wangji had a full conversation with Nie-zongzhu about A-Yuan’s care, but he couldn’t remember a word after. He kept thinking about Jiang Wanyin’s expression. He wished he had taken the sect leader’s face in his hands, even if the man rejected his touch, even if he was embarrassed by the show of vulnerable emotion. Embarrassment seemed like such an insignificant thing in the face of oncoming war.
But they were too late, time had kept running as they tried to hide their feelings from themselves and each other, and before Lan Wangji could even digest what he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was standing outside the walls of the Unclean Realm, watching the crowd of soldiers and horses assemble before him.
Nie-zongzhu was an outsized figure among them and it was his presence and his presence alone that kept that awful feeling in Lan Wangji’s stomach from turning to total despair. Yunmeng purple threaded through the grey-green of the Nie but it was still such a small company to wage an attack on another sect.
He easily found Jiang Wanyin among the purple and went to him. Jiang Wanyin’s brow was furrowed as he tightened the straps on his horse, but when he saw Lan Wangji his expression lifted.
“You came.”
“Of course.”
A moment of silence passed that they could not afford.
“I wish we’d had more time,” Jiang Wanyin muttered. “We shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have…”
“Forget it,” Lan Wangji said, desperation bleeding into his voice despite himself. “Forget it all, please.”
A pause between them, and then, “I want you to do me a favor,” Jiang Wanyin said in a rush. “If you would.”
Lan Wangji spoke in a similar burst, words tumbling over each other. “Yes, of course.”
Jiang Wanyin took Lan Wangji’s hand in his and pressed something into his palm; their eyes remained on each other as he did. It was cool and smooth. When Jiang Wanyin released his hand and Lan Wangji opened his fist, he saw the familiar token that was usually fastened to Jiang Wanyin’s scabbard. Yunmeng jade tied to a braid of silk.
He looked up at Jiang Wanyin in a half-panic. “Why…”
Why would Jiang Wanyin not take his clan’s token with him into battle? His mother’s token? Something so precious. Something so symbolic. If he was leaving it here, with Lan Wangji—
Jiang Wanyin pushed Lan Wangji’s hand holding the token away towards his chest and he did not move his hand away.
“If you receive word from Koi Tower about my sister,” he said. “You can send back the tassel as my signature.”
“Jiang Wanyin—”
“And if you could keep it safe while I’m gone.” Jiang Wanyin’s eyes seemed to pierce right through him. “I would consider it a great favor.”
Before Lan Wangji could respond, a faint cry came from Nie-zongzhu, and the soldiers began to mount their horses. Jiang Wanyin swung up onto his horse as well. When Lan Wangji looked up, the glare of the sun hid the nuances of Jiang Wanyin’s face from him.
“Don’t forget,” Jiang Wanyin said, urgently, and Lan Wangji knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about responding to a message from Koi Tower. He was saying, don’t forget me. If something happens, don’t forget me because there is no one else to remember. And he had given Lan Wangji the last physical thing in the world that represented him.
“I could not forget,” Lan Wangji said softly.
Jiang Wanyin nodded, his face shadowed as he turned his horse towards the rest of the retinue.
As the Yunmeng and Qinghe soldiers started to move away from the great walls of the Unclean Realm, a sharp wail pierced the air. Lan Wangji watched Jiang Wanyin’s back disappear into the crowd of soldiers.
“Lan-er-gongzi,” someone murmured, and Lan Wangji took his crying son into his arms. He distantly rocked him up and down. Did the child know what was happening? Or was he just upset at the general unease in the air?
There was a sniffling beside him. Nie Huaisang’s tears fell faster than he could wipe them away.
Lan Wangji looked up into the clear sky and closed his eyes. He hadn’t done it in a very long time, but he sent up a wordless plea to A-Yuan’s father. If there was ever a time they could use his help, it was now. Please, I beg you. Keep him safe, if you have any lingering affection for me. But other than the mingled sound of A-Yuan and Nie Huaisang’s crying, it was all quiet.
Lan Wangji opened his eyes and clenched his jaw tight until it hurt, forcing his trembling mouth still and stubbornly ignoring the heat prickling behind his eyeballs. There was no reason to cry yet. Better to save them for a time where they were justified. He watched the last of the soldiers disappear down the dusty path towards Qishan with a stony expression.