Sacrifices Made with Blood - nocturnal_writes - 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī (2024)

Chapter 1: one last kiss

Chapter Text

CHAPTER I

Wei Ying was beautiful, and when he smiled, he was radiant. Wangji, young and in love, had feared it would burn him should he stay too close to the sun that was Wei Wuxian.

The tears streaking down the too pale cheeks now, Wei Ying smiling at him through his damp lashes, silver eyes like the moon, fingers clenched in his white robes. Lan Wangji had convinced him to come back. After everything, their friendship strained by the paths they’d taken after the sunshot campaign, and Wei Wuxian protecting the Wen remnants and still following his heretic cultivation despite the obvious strain on him - after everything, Wei Ying had only gifted him a sad smile and nodded, when Lan Wangji had asked once again, to go back, go back to Gusu with him. Let me protect you, let me take care of you. I love you.

How had he been so blind?

Lan Wangji wasn’t his brother, and in his concern for Wei Ying, he’d believed his brother would stand his ground as sect leader against the cultivation world out for the Yiling patriarch’s destruction.

Wei Ying had barely reacted, even as he was chained and made to kneel in the courtyard of the Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji had been the opposite, raging and screaming, breaking rules and for the first time - but was it really? - not caring. Not when he begged uncle, brother, for Wei Ying’s life.

Uncle had been disappointed in him, and it stung, because Lan Wangji had grown up under Lan Qiren’s tutelage since Quingheng-jun had lived in seclusion for all of Lan Wangji’s life, until he’d died. His father had never been a father to him. Uncle had been like a father figure, even if he’d been strict and seldom warm like his mother. Wangji had gone to his elder brother with his problems, which had also been rare occasions. He had always been self-sufficient as a child.

Lan Xichen had looked at him with pity, and probably regretted ever urging him to make friends with Wei Wuxian. In his eyes, Lan Wangji didn’t see the brother who had once called him A-Zhan, and it made him cold inside.

His brother wouldn't help him.

Wei Ying was on his knees, and they were close enough for Wangji to make out the small flecks of dark grey in Wei Ying’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” whispered Wei Ying. His voice sounded brittle and defeated and Lan Wangji hated it. Hated the reason for Wei Ying to be so-

“Lan Zhan, promise me. One last wish, yeah? Just a small one, but promise me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, his head brushing against Wei Ying’s. He heard the disciples at his back shift as he drifted closer into Wei Ying’s space, there to restrain him. “Anything,” he promised. “Whatever Wei Ying wants.” If he had to shift heaven and earth for Wei Ying, he would.

The first time since they’d returned to Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying smiled and it was not sad, but remembrance of the smile Wei Ying would freely give back when they’d been students here. The memory of these days tasted bittersweet.

“You’re too good to me Lan Zhan! Anything, really?!” Wei Ying teased him, but they had no time for games.

The Lan elders grew restless, and both men stiffened at the frosty atmosphere around them. Not that Lans shifted their stance or any other outward sign, but it was clear time was running out. Wei Ying’s time was running out. Lan Wangji wanted to run, take Wei Ying far away and never return. Lan Wangji would grovel at his uncle’s feet until he had no face left, if Wei Ying would walk free. Lan Wangji felt a hand on his shoulder. A reminder.

“Wei Ying.” Please, whatever your wish, tell me.

Wei Ying was breathing against his lips, his voice lowered into a whisper. “I wish for you to kiss me.”

A whisper, and then Lan Wangji leaned forward, and lips were against his, and it was like something inside him broke upon the contact, because he felt his own tears escape from his eyes as he closed them. This was torture, to have this only for a moment, and knowing it was being ripped away from him. They’d lost so much time.

Still, Lan Wangji would forever hold onto this memory. One kiss, one love, for however long it would take until their souls found one another again.

Their first kiss ended when they both needed to breathe, and Lan Wangji opened his eyes and committed the look of Wei Ying to memory, lips dark and eyes full of emotion they seemed to overflow.

Hands on his shoulders, his arms, ripped him away, and he struggled. Reality crashed back over him like the water of the Cold Spring.

“Wei Ying!”

He instinctively reached for his golden core, and encountered the spiritual block preventing him from summoning or even lifting Bichen. Against senior disciples, he had no chance at the moment.

“Wei Ying!”

His frantic calls were ignored. Lan Xichen made a motion for the courtyard to be cleared, Wei Wuxian kneeling before him. His sentence was read to him. Lan Wangji had thought he would be prepared, but he could never be prepared to watch as his own brother condemned Wei Ying, his zhiji, to death.

How could he be prepared for this?

There would be bruises from the strong grip the senior disciples had on him, the way he tried to get free and stop them from proceeding. His Lan upbringing, in this moment, had fled him completely. There was only Wei Ying.

Guqin strings were around Wei Ying’s neck, they didn’t belong there. Xichen played the xiao, but he was also familiar with the guqin. Xichen held the strings,

-the strings around Wei Ying’s neck.

Chord assassination had been invented to execute sect dissidents, and Wangji watched helplessly, as the chord bit into his beloved’s skin now and drew blood. The eyes of sect leader Lan were cold as the Yiling Patriarch died at his hand. Lan Wangji could feel his heart dying alongside Wei Ying.

His struggles stopped, his eyes glued to the lifeless form on the ground. There were people talking, but their words were unimportant to Lan Wangji.

Wei Ying was dead.

Sect leader Lan sounded regretful, but he stepped aside. Wangji was dragged to the front, before his sect leader.

His Wei Ying was dead.

There was an order to disrobe. Wangji stared ahead unseeing. Wei Ying’s lips were still a ghostly sensation against his, and he kneeled on the cold stone, alone. His robes were forcefully removed, until all that was left were his pants. The cold wind made him shiver. Somewhere, one of the elders listed all his transgressions, like it mattered now that Wei Ying- Wei Ying was gone. Thirty three lashes by the discipline whip, a death sentence. Sect leader Lan seemed ready to argue, for a moment Lan Huan was back, but he was gone in a blink, and sect leader Lan bowed his head to the elders and let the punishment commence.

The whip was a line of fire, and it left him breathless upon the first strike.

The second.

Third.

Fourth.

His skin split and blood ran down his back. Wangji lost count.

Wei Ying was dead.

Another strike with the whip. Numbness, until the next strike left him nearly unconscious on the ground. Unfeeling hands had him back upright in a kneeling position. Another strike.

Wei Ying was dead. Wei Ying was gone.

Another strike.

Wangji fell forward and his head turned into the direction of Wei Ying, his lifeless corpse, the dark blood around it. Feet blocked his sight and he was righted again. Another strike. Fire down his back. Numbness in his heart.

Lan Wangji gave in, as he felt his consciousness fade, and didn’t wake again.

—

There was no explanation for waking up again. Wei Wuxian blinked and looked at the concerned faces of the white robed Lan healers, and panicked. His reaction startled the healers around him and one pricked him with needles, a familiar feeling after having lived with Wen Qing and her sharp needles, and Wei Wuxian was out again.

Waking up a second time, after he should have died, and with Lan healers treating him, was no less surreal nor disorienting. Not to forget, panic inducing.

Wei Wuxian didn’t panic this time. He was too tired to lift his body up. There was soreness where the chord had bitten into skin, and his voice wouldn’t co-operate. At least somebody seemed to understand his croaking sounds, since a glass of water was held to his lips and he gratefully drank from it.

The water was taken after he downed half of the liquid, and Wei Wuxian propped himself up on arms, trembling with the effort, to look around. He actually hadn’t been to the Lan healers in his entire life. As a strong cultivator, he hadn’t ever gotten sick and small scabs from sword training healed over in a matter of a day.

The place looked clean and airy, the soft blues breaking through rigid white. It was quiet. There weren’t many occupied beds in the ward, not surprising in a sect with renowned cultivators like the Lan.

His gaze zeroed in the moment his eyes found Lan Wangji, on a bed beside his own. He gasped, Lan Zhan’s name soundlessly escaping his lips. Hands, non-threatening and careful in the way they didn’t restrain but were firm in holding him back. The healer who’d given him water. Wei Wuxian had completely forgotten about him.

“Careful, young master. You’ve been unconscious for seven days. The other young master hasn’t woken yet. Hurting yourself by rushing to his bedside won’t change his state. We did all we could do to take care of the wounds on his back, and he will heal on his own time now.” the gentle voice of the healer told him.

Wei Wuxian blinked slowly. ‘What wounds? Why would Lan Zhan be hurt?’

White bandages were peeking out of the thin robe Lan Zhan wore, wound tightly around his torso.

He turned his attention to the healer and took in his appearance. The man wore a patterned cloud ribbon, and his eyes were a startling vivid forest green.

Wei Wuxian had many questions. Who was that man? What happened? Was this a dream? Why was Lan Zhan here?

All he managed to do was move his lips, no sound coming out. He tried again. And again. Some realization dawned the healer, as his expression changed to pity and he seemed to understand something. What? What was there to understand?

Wei Wuxian knew this wasn’t the Lan silencing spell. He could open his mouth and move his lips to form words, all that was missing was his voice.

His voice.

Quickly, he held his hand to his throat and tried again. Normally, he would feel the way his voice traveled along and out of his mouth. Now, nothing. There was nothing, and he tried to breathe through the suffocating feeling coming over him, when he realized that he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even ask if Lan Zhan would be alright.

—

The healer’s name was Lan Xīnyuè and he held a warmth Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen in any Lan except Zewu-jun. He was a lot like Wen Qing, strict with his patients and accepting no nonsense from them. His bedside manners were just as bad as Wen Qing.

Wei Wuxian learned a lot about the healer while he tried to sneak out of bed over the next few days, with Lan Wangji asleep only one bed afar. ‘It might as well be an ocean between us,’ he thought glumly, eating his bland porridge and sulking in bed.

“Resting,” Lan Xīnyuè had corrected him. Regaining his spiritual energy.

“What spiritual energy? ” he would have joked, had he been able to voice his thoughts.

This way, he couldn’t choke off into shocked silence when he discovered his golden core, bright and warm in his chest. It was not the only indicator to something being very, very wrong. The facts as they were, were this:

Wei Wuxian knew he had died. His memory ended there. Then he woke up, alive and with his golden core. The people didn’t recognize him, and he was just a young master to them. Wei Wuxian was unable to ask, since he couldn’t use his voice.

Lan Xīnyuè had examined his throat, told him he was brought in with bruises around his neck that hinted at strangulation, and carefully asked if he wished to write down what had happened or if he remembered anything. Wei Wuxian saw the healer meant well, but he had decided on carefully shaking his head.

Slowly, Wei Wuxian began to piece together a few things this way. There was, of course, the chance he could be wrong, but he didn’t believe so. He had no explanation why, no real plan on what he was going to do, now that he was in the past where nobody seemed to know him, or Lan Wangji.

Chapter 2: and you're here

Chapter Text

CHAPTER II

“What,” Lan Xīnyuè barked, “are you doing out of bed, Wei Wuxian?”

Said cultivator possessed the grace to give a sheepish grin, but didn’t budge from where he’d taken vigil beside the still unconscious white-clad cultivator. Lan Xīnyuè suppressed the heartfelt urge to sigh, shaking his head at his stubborn patient who couldn’t sit still.

Lan Xīnyuè had quickly learnt of his patient’s habit to sneak out of his bed to sit beside the still recovering cultivator, or to wander around the ward on unsteady legs. The first time, Lan Xīnyuè had given him a speech and escorted him back to bed.

After the fifth time, the healer had learned to never leave Wei Wuxian unsupervised. A cursory glance around confirmed his suspicions. He would need to have some strong words with his protégés.

These two young men had been brought in with life threatening injuries! His colleagues and him had been exhausted after saving their lives, spiritual energy drained.

Lan Xīnyuè was a healer, first and foremost. His oath was to help those in need. If these cultivators had clan affiliations or not, the sect leaders could fuss about it. Lan Xīnyuè’s worry was his patients and not politics.

—

Wei Wuxian startled, badly, when healer Lan entered the ward, his voice preceding him. He turned his head and hid it behind a grin. His hand never left Lan Zhan’s own, pliant in deep sleep.

It had been days, five by now. Lan Zhan hadn’t woken up. The healer had assured him Lan Zhan’s condition was getting better every day. His core was needing time to strengthen and heal his wounds. His wounds. SOmething Wei Wuxian hadn’t tried to think about, but still couldn’t help thinking about.

How had Lan Zhan gotten hurt?

“Wei Wuxian,” came Lan Xīnyuè’s voice, the healer gesturing with one hand to the vacated bed. “I need to do a small check up.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, stepping slowly over to his assigned bed and letting the healer have a look at his bruised neck. His skin prickled where healer Lan applied a herbal cream and he exhaled, watching a strand of his hair float with it. His left foot drew small circles over the ground, dangling over the ground, bare. He hadn’t deemed it necessary this morning to wear shoes if he was confined to one place. Healer Lan tutted disapprovingly. “Just because your core is strong doesn’t automatically mean you won’t catch a cold!”

Wei Wuxian had been fine without a core, he didn’t say. His state now was better than he’d felt in years.

In the end, he shrugged, not really feeling up to writing an answer down. Then he was reminded of his earlier endeavors, and blinked. He brightened and took a paper talisman out of his desk drawer the moment Lan Xīnyuè was done.

Being rendered mute was getting to Wei Wuxian, who normally didn’t even know how to shut up, if you asked Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan had used the Lan silencing spell enough times for Wei Wuxian to be familiar with its effects. This was different. It didn’t feel like someone glued your mouth shut. Actually, it didn’t feel different at all. Maybe, he wasn’t mute, just deaf, but no. He could understand healer Lan perfectly as he’d been asked his name. There was nothing wrong with his ears.

Focusing his spiritual energy now felt like struggling with an overflowing river after a strong rain, the dam bursting under the pressure if he wasn’t careful enough. He’d been so long without a golden core, his spiritual energy weak and useless without one to hold it. Now it pulsated in his chest, spreading warmth through his limbs while it healed him.

The talisman in between his fingers sparked, and glowed. Small particles faded and became words.

“Huh, it actually works. Well, I won’t need as much ink anymore to write my answers all the time, healer Xīnyuè.”

The words stayed in the air long enough to be read, before they faded away. Wei Wuxian clasped his hands in his lap in success and beamed at the flabbergasted healer, having worked on this talisman for the last three days. He knew it wasn’t refined or elegant. The words were a bit too bright, he still didn’t know how long he could use it, or if there was a word limit. If Lan Zhan were awake, he could test it out.

“You,” began Lan Xīnyuè, blinking slowly in the specific way that reminded Wei Wuxian of other Lans, “You did this? This talisman is yours?”

Ah. Sadly, this had been his only one. The yellow talisman paper had been hard to aquire, and he dared not think of the cinnabar… So he gave a questioning look, shrugged, and nodded in affirmation. His hands sought out a blank sheet of paper and ink. It was going to be second nature by the time Lan Zhan decided to wake up.

His eyes travelled to the man softly breathing in the other bed, making sure his friend was still there. They quickly focused back on healer Lan Xīnyuè.

I only had one, but if you could get me the necessary tools, I would instead talk this way. It’s going to be much easier! If I’m forced to write everything out, my hand will develop a cramp!

Lan Xīnyuè read over his words carefully, brows climbing up steadily. “Wei Wuxian. You are the worst patient I’ve ever had the pleasure to treat in my time here.” The man sounded like he couldn’t decide between being horrified and in awe of Wei Wuxian’s accomplishment. “You’re still healing, and your core doesn’t need the additional strain of you repeatedly casting an experimental spell on yourself.”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth - a reflex that wouldn’t do anything now, since he couldn’t speak - and was interrupted by the healer shooting him a stern look, continuing, “Which means you’ll be supervised by me, if you must do it.”

It was still a restriction and Wei Wuxian hated all these rules already, but he acquiesced and later pouted into his bland congee. They could at least allow a little spice.

A disciple came by and took the tray when he was done. One of Lan Xīnyuè’s protégés. Xie Fén, a shy boy, a bit like Wen Ning. He’d tried to make small talk in an effort to probably make Wei Wuxian feel at ease, only to fall to his knees in apology once he’d realised his mistake. Wei Wuxian had tried to make it clear it wasn’t necessary for him to kneel before someone like him. Honestly, there was no reason to.

The junior healers were all wide-eyed like ducklings, he thought. They flitted in and out of the ward, fulfilling menial tasks or helping their senior healers by something. He had watched them over the days he’d been awake. Treating disciples returning from night hunts, people with a cough coming in, only once an accident during sword training. Healer Lan seemed to always know when Wei Wuxian thought of leaving his bed, so he behaved until evening. Watching the Lan disciples from the night hunt yawn at the other side of the ward, he estimated it to be Lan bedtime, nine p.m. and shifted to the edge of his own bed. Further, further. His legs dangling in the air, he shifted his weight on them and carefully looked around for any of the junior ducklings.

The ward was empty, safe him and Lan Zhan, and the two disciples now asleep. Good. Wei Wuxian took the necessary steps to his friend, oblivious to all his rule breaking. Slightly short of breath now, Wei Wuxian made himself comfortable at his friend’s side. ‘Please wake up,’ he thought, ‘you haven’t even told me yet why you did it. I wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, you know? I’m always teasing you! Aiya, Lan Zhan… now you’ve given me hope that… that you mean it. My poor heart can’t take it, if you have suddenly learned to tease..!’

His gaze stayed on Lan Zhan, his beautiful face relaxed in his unconscious state, as if he were sleeping normal sleep. Lan Wangji was beautiful, as close to jade as he was always said to be. Wei Wuxian wished him to wake up, to see life return to white skin with a hot glare from light coloured eyes.

—

Sunlight streamed in through a window and tickled his face, and Wei Wuxian screwed up his nose in displeasure. He blinked slowly, still half asleep, and wondered why he was awake. This wasn’t his bed. His back complained as he sat upright against the hard floor. Hopefully, nobody has been here yet. Healer Lan would actually chain him to his bed if he knew.

His hand still holding onto Lan Zhan’s felt the minute twitch when it occurred.

“Lan Zhan?” he formed the name with his lips, soundlessly. Lan Wangji’s hand moved again, closing around his fingers and his voice croaking a single, confused, “Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian had known for days that he would be fine, Lan Zhan would be okay - the moment he looked up into those eyes, he cried. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, startling Lan Wangji who looked on in shock as Wei Wuxian wept unashamedly at his bedside.

Wei Wuxian didn’t care how it looked to outsiders. He had been confused and alone, and worried for his friend for over a week after he’d died. He didn’t know who hurt Lan Zhan, but he could guess, and he really, really, needed somebody to talk to. But he couldn’t talk.

So he cried, and he clung to Lan Zhan’s front and felt warm arms close around him in a weak hold, and he felt safe.

Chapter 3: donkey days

Chapter Text

Chapter III

The air was humid and the breeze a welcoming relief from the heat of the sun beating down on the two cultivators travelling along the beaten path, amidst green fields and the occasional rice field.

The stillness of the air was broken only by the clop-clop-clop of the donkey's hooves. The cultivator in white robes leading the animal was moving along silently, an elegant person. His expression was like refined jade, but his eyes were sparkling with amusem*nt at his companion who wove all kinds of tales into the space between them from the back of the donkey, the glowing shapes of moving cultivators fighting yaoguai, ghost puppets, and demons.

Wei Wuxian held his dizi and twirled it absently with his left hand, talisman in his right.

They had been on the road for a month now, content to wander. At first, they had contemplated staying - they were lost in a strange past with unknown faces surrounding them and Lan Zhan had been in no condition to travel. But it had been too painful to stay, where ghosts seemed to haunt Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian could see how it would feel strange to stay in a place you knew all your life only to realize it wasn't.

They had taken off the moment Lan Zhan had been able to walk without pain. It had felt like running away, but Wei Wuxian was by now familiar with the feeling and he cared little, if people thought him rude or ungrateful for it. People had thought worse about him, when he'd been the Yiling Patriarch.

The days were spent peacefully now, in comparison to their past. No sect politics to worry about, no obligations as head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang or second jade of Lan. Anonymity had its benefits, and Wei Wuxian could see why his parents must have loved this lifestyle. Of travelling freely and helping the common folk.

Sometimes he would wonder though. What had happened to shijie, to Jiang Cheng? He felt a pang in his chest, thinking about them. Did she hate him, for murdering her husband? Making Jin Ling an orphan. Wei Wuxian had felt wretched and helpless, Wen Ninhs hand bloody. Poor wen ning was only the weapon, the weapon Wei Wuxian had guised and lost control of. He made Wen Ning a murderer, something that was unforgivable.

And in his darkest hour, Lan Zhan had come and appeared. The second jade of lan had been the light guiding him away from the abyss of despair he#d fallen into. Wei Wuxian had not cared about the consequences, and had been able to guess what would happen. His hope had been to actually get GusuLan to at least pardon the wen remnants since it had been him alone who had been guilty of crimes. Granny Wen, uncle four, a-Yuan… they were innocent. Whatever Lan Zhan thought of him after Qiongqi Path, he had seen these Wens and knew they weren't cultivators. If the voice of hanguang jun spoke for them they could be saved from whatever they would decode for the yiling patriarch.

Maybe they could do something this time. His restored golden core was as strong as before and the regular night hunting helped in becoming even stronger. It was like a dream to hunt beside his friend, something he'd thought he'd given up when he'd talked Wen Qing intp the core transfer.

Knowing how it was without a golden core, he treasured the warmth emitting from his lower dantian. His reflex was to reach for Chenqing still, and his flute sang along to Wangji when they played melodies of suppression and calming wherever and whenever it was needed.

They were content and they had time, after all. The world was unfamiliar, them strangers in a strange land, this past so far away from their time. Cultivation clans were smaller, cultivators fewer in their numbers. It had been shocking to realize how far they were from everyone they’d known.

It had been cold mornings and golden sun, a prelude to winter when they arrived unexpectedly in the timeline, hundreds of years in the past. Now it was spring, nature in full bloom and days already showing off a stifling heat. Summer would come with the danger of heat strokes and dehydration if you weren't careful.

They planned on a route up north, through several villages and towns to gather offers for nighthunts and supplies.

Wei Wuxian patted the donkey's side and smiled. His dizi placed at his lips, he started a joyful tune to break the silence.

Lan Zhan hummed along for a bit, his gait relaxed with his walls down for once. It was a vulnerable side Wei Wuxian hadn't gotten to see of the other only once, in the Xuanwu cave. Again, when he’d been taken away after their kiss. Lan Zhan had not only been vulnerable, he’d looked broken.

Wei Wuxian had asked Lan Zhan if he wanted to stay, carve a new life for himself in Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji was a strong cultivator and there had been nobody as righteous, as good as him during their time. Hanguang-jun had been as revered as the Yiling Patriarch had been cursed. Any sect would wish to have him.

Wei Wuxian had ignored the hurt thinking of Lan Zhan leaving him, but he hadn’t been able to ask Lan Zhan’s opinion without fearing his answer. And Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan had taken his hand and Wei Ying felt himself internally melt every time he remembered the words.

Words only meant for him, words meaning everything to him.

I don’t want a life without Wei Ying. If Wei Ying wants to leave, we’ll go. Together.

Was it because he’d been teasing Lan Wangji all the time? The way the second Jade had looked at him with a determined frown and uncertainty in his eyes - Wei Wuxian had felt himself flush, but unable to look away.

“Lan Zhan! Who told you you could act like this? Now you’ll never ever get rid of me again! Xianxian’s heart can’t take it when you say stuff like that.”

His heart had been wildly beating in his chest, and it wouldn’t have been surprising if even the talisman paper had caught fire.

Lan Wangji’s answer had been a huffed, ridiculous.

Chapter 4: wait, I know (of) you

Chapter Text

Chapter IV

"Do you think we could cultivate to immortality, Lan Zhan? Maybe, in a few hundred years, I'll meet my Shijie and Jiang Cheng again this way! But it wouldn't be the same, would it? Hahaha… Lan Zhan, I wish I could apologize to her. I don't know why I lost control that day. I have such a bad memory, I can't even be sure if I lost control. Some part of me hated the flower peaco*ck even then, I think…"

His left hand clutched the paper talisman, while the words faded slowly from sight again where they glowed in the air.

"It wasn't your fault," Lan Zhan replied. They were eating breakfast and the early morning atmosphere had brought a wave of reminiscing with it. Lan Wangji looked at his cultivation partner and for once did not stay silent during the meal. He had to say what had to be made clear in his opinion. "You were defending yourself."

Wei Wuxian speared some vegetables on his chopsticks and chewed on them, warmed by Lan Zhan’s defense of his actions.

"You were always warning me of the dangers of demonic cultivation. What changed your mind?"

“Wei Ying.”

The chopsticks holding the food paused on their way to his mouth. “Eh?”

“Resentful energy is also energy.” Lan Zhan recited Wei Wuxian’s words, said in a classroom with the curiosity of a teenager who hadn’t yet experienced the world. “All energies of the world exist for use, in the pursuit of justice. Spiritual energy can be used for wrong, the same way resentful energy can be used to defend what is right.”

“Lan Zhan. Do you really believe that?”

The white-clad cultivator nodded. “En.”

Wei Ying wanted to laugh, his lips parting as he giggled without sound escaping him. His eyes darted to Lan Wangji, who calmly ate his breakfast like he hadn’t just said he supported Wei Ying walking the crooked path. Ever since abandoning the world of the great cultivation sects, they’d learned to be truly honest with each other, talking about cultivation practices and going on night hunts together.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… what would your uncle say if he heard you speaking like that?” Wei Wuxian meant to say it playfully, realizing too late what he’d written with his talisman paper spell. He wasn’t quick enough to erase the words from sight, and he saw the way Lan Wangji became unnaturally still, chopsticks clanking on the tray where he put them down with a shaking hand.

sh*t, he always ruined things by opening his big mouth, didn’t he? Wei Wuxian just had to mention Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji’s uncle who’d probably watched his nephew getting punished that day.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--” he tried to apologize, coming around the table to crouch next to his friend and laying a hand on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Pale eyes looked up and met his, bright with pain from his brother’s betrayal. Lan Wangji had obviously trusted Lan Xichen to believe in his brother’s judgement of Wei Ying and protect them. He hadn’t thought Lan Xichen would give into the demands of the Jin Sect and execute Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian knew the hurt of your brother placing his duty as sect leader before you, but the relationship between the two Jades of Lan had always seemed to him to be something unshakeable. They were called the Twin Jades not only because of their close level in cultivation and their otherworldly looks, but also because they were as close as twin brothers. It had shaken even him to see Lan Xichen agree to have his brother punished as severely as he’d been when they’d woken up in the infirmary afterwards.

When he met pale eyes with his own grey ones, he hoped he hadn’t completely screwed up by invoking these memories in Lan Wangji.

“No need for apologies between us,” Lan Wangji said. His arms snaked around Wei Wuxian’s waist, he sat the other into his lap, burrowing his nose in Wei Wuxian’s hair. This close, Wei Wuxian could smell the sandalwood scent on Lan Zhan’s clothes. He was startled at suddenly being hugged like this, Lan Zhan clinging to him like Wei Wuxian was the air he needed to breathe.

He still felt sometimes like their relationship was a dream and he would one day wake up and realize he had actually died from chord assassination instead of being alive over three hundred years in the past, spiritual energy unexplainedly thrumming in his chest.

Moments like these, when Lan Zhan sought comfort in Wei Ying, he wished to have his voice so he could tell him ‘I love you’.

A look into his pale eyes told him it was understood regardless. Wei Ying leaned in for a kiss that was met with the understanding that they were alright, they were here. Lan Zhan loved him, would continue to love him, and Wei Ying returned those feelings.

No matter how enjoyable their journeying was, Wei Wuxian couldn’t lift the weight of his thoughts from his shoulders. His thoughts strayed to his siblings, the Wen remnants he’d left behind, the child he’d grown to love like a son.

They were back on the road, following the Yangtze river eastwards. The people living in this region were farmers who could afford cultivators to handle any ghost or fierce corpse who’d be a threat to their crops.

A week after broaching the topic with Lan Zhan the first time, Wei Wuxian found himself gathering the white-clad cultivator’s attention once again to ask him, “What do you think happened, to make us travel back in time?”

Lan Wangji looked straight ahead, one hand laid atop Bichen’s hilt comfortably. He seemed to think about the question with a line appearing between his eyebrows, taking time to give an answer.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Wei Wuxian exhaled in an effort to calm down his mind that held enough theories to fill a book. He’d pondered this question since they’d woken up in Cloud Recesses. The principle of time travel was riddled with many conflicting views pertaining to the question of how time itself worked. Was it a linear construct, a flowing river so your actions would create a butterfly effect, ripples in time? Or would time split if you travelled back and changed certain events? Could you exist at the same time as another version of yourself?

It was too many questions and not enough answers.

“Wei Ying wants to travel through time.” Lan Wangji said, a question. Caught by the perceptive cultivator, Wei Wuxian felt embarrassed that Lan Zhan was able to read through him so completely.

“I know I said that I want to be with you and night-hunt at your side for the rest of our lives. I still do want that! Then I sometimes turn around, and I want to tell my shijie about how amazing you are, and she’s not there, because we’re here and I can’t see her anymore. I want her to be happy, like I’m happy now. And she won’t be because I’m going to murder her husband!”

Lan Wangji listened, his gaze fixed on the words blurring slightly at the end. Like Wei Ying’s regret of his actions had influenced the way they were written by the spell.

“Then we’ll find a way to change it,” Lan Zhan said resolutely.

Easier said than done. They needed weeks to find texts and scripts mentioning or speaking about the topic of time travel. There were fewer books written about it now, at a time where most sects hadn’t been established yet. They hadn’t waited around in Gusus to see who was the sect leader, but a visit to Yunmeng had yielded some answers on the state of Jiang Sect. Jiang Chi’s wife had just given her husband a second son, and Lotus Pier had been in a joyous mood when they’d asked around the market for the reason of the rich decorations everywhere. Remembering his history lessons of the Sect’s founding, that would make them around 300 years in the past he believed.

Even now, sects looked suspiciously at strangers coming to their doors asking for entrance to their sect library. After arduously helping out some minor sects in the area, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji gained enough trust with them to be allowed into a sect library. It didn’t yield any results unfortunately, but they didn’t give up.

Rumour still traveled fast in the cultivation world. On their journey from Chang territory to the famous Langya library, they met another rogue cultivator.

It would be better said, they stumbled into a clearing occupied by fierce corpses locked into battle with a woman in nondescript clothing. The female cultivator expertly held the moving corpses at bay, but they were still too much for one person.

They didn’t hesitate one moment, Lan Wangji sending a wave of blue energy at the fierce corpses with his guqin while Wei Wuxian unsheathed Suibian to join the cultivator in incapacitating the foes.

Against the three of them, the fierce corpses stood no chance. Those dealt with, the woman wiped the blood from her blade, sheathed it at her waist, and bowed to them in thanks. Wei Wuxian waved his hands. They’d only helped out a follow cultivator in need; he didn’t feel right to accept her gratitude for doing the sensible thing.

“Young man, thank you for helping this one out of a precarious situation,” she said.

Lan Wangji bowed respectfully to her and accepted her thanks, while Wei Wuxian still sputtered silently in complaint. His mouthed “Lan Zhan” went unnoticed, so he stomped his foot. It was immature, he knew. Being mute was so annoying in these moments when they talked to other people.

“Daozhang, there is no need to thank us,” Lan Wangji said for his cultivation partner who currently couldn’t find his paper talismans with the spell to form words.

She looked at them with the look of someone twenty years their senior, the way someone would look at the next generation of cultivators in the world. Her smile resembled Wei Wuxian’s, and she gave a short amused laugh at the pair who stood opposite her in a dark forest clearing at night surrounded by dismembered fierce corpses with a donkey after helping her without expecting any thanks.

She decided she liked them already.

“Please, what kind of person would you take me as if I don’t thank you? Let me invite you to a meal at least! It’s only polite. I’m Baoshan Sanren. What can I call you?”

It seemed a twist of fate to actually meet his grand master, the Baoshan Sanren, who was a friendly if not mischievous woman who hadn’t yet reached immortality. On some unvoiced agreement, they followed her. Baoshan Sanren exchanged worldly news with them of what she’d heard went on in the cultivation world: where the gentry operated, the public announcements from minor sects in this province.

She was a strong woman who spoke her mind freely but stayed courteously in the way she voiced these opinions. By the time they all arrived at an inn, Wei Wuxian was out of usable talisman paper to ask his questions that burnt on his tongue.

Chapter 5: a shared dinner

Chapter Text

Chapter V

There was a lot of note to mention about Baoshan Sanren when they sat down that evening at an inn in Yunmeng territory. Lan Wangji could see the way men would notice her objective beauty. From her clean appearance and well made robes to the sword at her belt, she came off as someone from an established cultivation family. Her youthful features played into the appeal, probably.

Lan Wangji was more impressed by the well of spiritual energy he could sense from her. Powerful cultivators always seemed to be surrounded by it for people like him who were sensitive to spiritual energy signatures. Baoshan Sanren was an immortal in their time, said to have lived for hundreds of years, but nobody exactly knew when she’d ascended.

Wei Ying used their meeting for his own purposes. His stack of drawn talisman had been depleted, but he held a freshly drawn one in hand now. The cinnabar was reflecting the lamp light, it hadn’t had time to dry completely before the man had activated the spell. His questions for the rogue cultivator floated an inch over the table with the tea pot and cups, mostly unnoticed by the other patrons.

Once again, Lan Wangji wished to hear that voice that had teased him every day during the guest lectures. Lilting in a teasing tone, or whining playfully while Wei Ying was lying sprawled around the library pavilion. Memory Lan Wangji had been confused by his feelings then, angry because Wei Ying had been everything the disciplines told you not to be — loud, shameless, thinking of using unorthodox methods to solve problems. Only by getting to know the boy, had he found that Wei Ying was loyal to his siblings, and the people he loved. If what was right and just was in conflict to what the sects deemed was moral, Wei Ying would always choose to follow the first. Even if it would hurt him, because Wei Ying was selfless to a worrying degree, Lan Wangji found. Someone had to stop the man sometimes to make him see, there were those he inadvertently hurt by carelessly playing with his own health this way.

Even now he did it, unconsciously. Wei Ying tried to seem unaffected by the loss of his voice, smiling at him during the day and sketching stories from his new invention. Lan Wangji could see the way his fingers sometimes clutched at the paper when he drew a new one out of his sleeves, or the way his lips opened on reflex and formed the first syllable of his name, only to stop short eyes darkening as he was remembering it would be useless.

Lan Wangji dared not to ask, but he felt weighed down by seeing Wei Ying hurting and hiding that hurt from him. It was who Wei Ying was, never trying to bother others with his presence, or at least not by telling when he was hurt. Wei Ying had often used his trouble maker persona, but it was more of a mask so nobody would look too closely to see when he was sad or in pain, Lan Wangji had realized.

Baoshan Sanren sipped her tea, her eyes on the words appearing above the table top. She had been travelling for over a month on her own, taking her time to see the world and cultivate. Exploring, she’d said while they’d still been walking out of the forest to the road. Helping whoever she came across, those who couldn’t pay for one of the great sects to help with an infestation of spirits. In that regard, she was a lot like Wey Ying. Putting kindness before everything else.

It was this kindness he could see in Wei Ying’s eyes that made him question his uncle’s teachings. Was the ghostly path inherently wrong? Wouldn’t it mean that their path was unable to do evil if these two paths were antithesis to each other?

Bichen had slain many cultivators during the sunshot campaign, as had the Wens with their cultivation of the orthodox path. Right and wrong, black and white —seeing the world this way made you forget the grey in-between. A sword was a tool wielded by humans, and humans could be cruel or kind. Should one judge others based on their tools alone, he wondered. The disciplines dictated not to associate with evil, but who said what was defined as such?

His mind’s wandering was interrupted by Wei Ying’s shoulder shoving him slightly to get his attention. It spoke of how deeply he’d been inside his own thoughts to need for the man to physically remind him.

Wei Ying looked at him, his eyes open and honest, his smile genuine in the way the worry softened around his eyes when Lan Wangji allowed himself to lift the corner of his mouth into his own version of a smile. It was meant to have Wei ying stop looking worried.

He heard the female rogue cultivator try to hide her laugh across from them. They both looked up, neither having realized they’d been caught up in their own world for a minute. Bashan Sanren’s eyes twinkled, hiding her grin behind her sleeve. For a moment, Lan Wangji felt a painful stab where his heart was, because his brother had once looked at him with the same expression. Mostly when Wei Ying had teased him, again.

Brother, he thought, and shoved the memory away before he could taste the bitterness of betrayal. He avoided thinking of him since what had transpired prior to their situation now. He wasn’t ready to explore his feelings for that person that had once been the closest to him, afraid of what he would find.

The daozhang let her sleeved arm fall back down, the corners of her mouth tilted upwards with amusem*nt at them. Lan Wangji couldn’t see what must have led to her amusem*nt. (He’d never seen why brother had seemed to be amused by his interactions with Wei Ying either.)

“Don’t mind this old woman,” she said, her tone displaying her continued good mood, “I’m just happy to see cultivation partners sharing such a deep bond like yours.”

It was a rare sight to see Wei Ying at a loss for words, or clearly embarrassed over something. Lan Wangji could feel his own eyes flush in embarrassment over being so transparent. Wei Ying showed it in the way his eyes widened and he jerked his head like he wanted to deny the words but backtracked, and finally scratched the back of his head. His shoulders slumped as he let himself fall against Lan Wangji. The cultivator could feel the other’s warmth seep through their robes where Wei Ying’s shoulder and side was in contact with Lan wangji. It was utterly shameless, the way his partner behaved publicly.

Lan Wangji laid his arm around Wei Ying and brought him closer to his side. He could feel Wei Ying stiffen in surprise for a moment, before relaxing.

Their interaction spoke as much as if they’d admitted to it in words, and Baoshan Sanren didn’t ask further questions. She simply drank the rest of her tea. The inn had emptied out over the course of their talk, and hai shi had just passed. Lan Wangji was relieved when she took her leave and retired to her room upstairs, feeling tired from night hunting and socializing just now.

They planned to travel together until they reached the library in Langya. She had told them of a friend who owed her a depth and could give them entrance since you needed to either pay a tribute of equal value to what you wanted to know or pray to find your knowledge elsewhere.

So they’d try their chances with the rogue cultivator first before making another plan. Lan Wangji wasn’t sure if the information they sought even existed, since it was never documented that someone had successfully influenced the flow of time, or even travelled back in time themselves. Theories and speculations on this topic were all they had.

Wei Ying had seemed confident in finding a way to recreate their time travel. He’d argued that he hadn’t had any kind of research for his type of cultivation either, and worked on trial and error before he’d carved Chenqing and found a way to control the resentful energies. Maybe he had needed time to refine demonic cultivation to the way he was using it now, but it had worked. It didn’t inspire the confidence Wei Ying must have hoped for, but Lan Wangji couldn’t fault him for that.

They both held connections to their old lives, despite the life they were offered now, that they couldn’t simply cut. It had shaped them into who they were, the persons they’d become.

Wei Ying was selfless in his desire to want to return and make a better world for everyone who’d lost so much during the war against the Wens. Lan Wangji would be fine staying at Wei Ying’s side and see him happy. If Wei Ying needed to have his siblings then he would make sure they were all living a better life this time around.

Chapter 6: between a book and a goodbye

Chapter Text

Chapter VI

Meeting Baoshan Sanren on their travels turned out to be quite advantageous. She had travelled far and wide and met many cultivators during her journey. Their travel to Lanya was spent swapping stories, Wei Wuxian illustrating Lan Zhan’s concise retellings of night hunts with his talisman made apparitions.

Using talisman paper for speech all the time became tiring, despite Wei Wuxian being able to alter a few brush strokes to make it last a shichen now. It wasn’t a problem. Lan Zhan understood him anyway. A look across the back of their donkey, asking for Lan Zhan’s thoughts on something. A twirl of Chenqing, and a smile, like a teasingly said Lan Zhan. A pout, normally leading to Lan Zhan laying his arm around him to hold him close against his side. The breeze wasn’t yet cold enough to make him shiver, not with the burning bright warmth of a golden core in his chest, something he was never again taking for granted after having lived with the absence of it for so long.

The thing was, if it was Lan Zhan, he didn’t have to speak to be understood. There had been misunderstandings between them in the past. But not in this. Knowing Lan Zhan loved him, had never intended what his clan had done to Wei Wuxian, helped their communication. Wei Wuxian had been honest too, and the reward of it all was this seamless way they could communicate with ease.

Wei Wuxian knew he was very deeply and disgustingly in love. He knew he woke up with nightmares, shaking silently with sobs stuck in his throat. He woke up and felt the guqin string bite into his neck again, and had to be held by Lan Zhan until the shaking stopped and he fell back into restless sleep.

Their minds were suffused in worry if they lost the other out of sight. It was elevated by the knowledge that Wei Wuxian couldn’t shout or answer Lan Wangji if they were on different ends of the bustling street. They stayed close to each other, which was made clear by Baoshan Sanren accompanying them. She spoke with them both, unbothered by Wei Wuxian’s lack of verbal answers and Lan Wangji’s way to speak in a few sentences. There was a line, where they stayed on one side and she on the other, made of their secrecy about certain aspects, and their hesitation to fully trust anyone this quickly again.

Baoshan Sanren’s eyes met Wei Wuxian’s one evening, a knowing look in them. It seemed he wasn’t the only one aware of the metaphorical distance between their little group.

.

They arrived in Langya without further delays and got access to Langya’s famed library with the help of Baoshan Sanren after leaving the donkey at a stable – paid for a week in advance. It was going to be the easiest part of their search for answers.

The section dealing with temporal phenomenons was chaotic, to describe it nicely. There was no clear definition of what got sorted into this section of the high towering stacks of scrolls and books, the shelves holding books of a man’s musings of the perception of time right next to a cultivation manual on illusions because one chapter mentioned time in relation to it.

It was like finding a specific lotus seed in one of Yunmeng’s lakes. They worked methodically through every single written account. By the end of another day spent reading through a scroll of documented impossible arrays, Wei Wuxian could tell that they wouldn’t find an answer here. Whatever had brought them to this time, it wasn’t something they had done. These scripts mentioned time arrays and spells, rituals that were quite forbidden in their time, and even recognizable as demonic. No, they wouldn’t find an answer to that question. Wei Wuxian looked at the opened scroll before him in thought. He traced the ink with his fingers, forming improvements in his head. If he could use spiritual energy with resentful energy and use what he’d learned of time from another scroll, he could…

He could send them back, forward in time, to another point where they could join their younger selves and with the memory of what happened intact, change what happened.

Time could be rewritten. It was fluid, and strange. One perceived time by the changes around oneself, the seasons, the cycle of night and day. By death. By age. By the burning of an incense stick.

Time was also a barrier standing between their moment in time now and the moment in time they wanted to be at.

Thinking about it all made his head hurt with the sheer impossibilities of their task. He smiled. Try the impossible was his sect motto, wasn’t it? He always strove to find a way to do the impossible, so why not again. He’d died and returned. He’d find a way to travel through time again, and change his fate. And if he couldn’t prevent his own death at least he could prevent the death of those he loved.

Lan Zhan returned with an arm full of another stack of books. “You said this person’s theories were sound. Found other records written by them.”

Ah, what would he do without this man, he thought indulgently. Taking the books, they were quite heavy. Curse the Lan arm strength, for making it look easy.

He gave a look at Lan Zhan to convey his thanks, whose pale eyes softened in return. Lan Zhan nodded with the promise to return to his own research and asking him if he needed any other specific book. He shook his head, knowing any more of the library and he would need another desk to work on copying his notes from the frail looking ancient scrolls he had put on top of another pile of books. Wei Ying flopped the first book open and their research continued.

.

"So," Wei Ying's future grandmaster began, "when were you about to tell me, you're not from this time period?"

Wei Ying's chopsticks fell to the floor. The sound of them hitting the ground was drowned by his racing thoughts. He shouldn't be surprised. Him and Lan Zhan hadn't been very well at hiding their displacement in this era, their knowledge of place names sometimes not exactly adding up. Lan Zhan's forhead ribbon would tell her his lineage as a Lan, being friends with Lan Yi would tell her he wasn't one of her current heirs. Travelling with them, while both were tight lipped as to the reason they needed entrance into the biggest library of China?

He shot Lan Zhan a look while he internally screamed. His zhiji had that blank look that was hiding his own panic at being discovered. His fingers were calmly holding the utensils while he ate without batting an eyelash. Hiding behind his clan's rule of not speaking during meals.

Wei Ying glowered at Lan Wangji. He was mute. Why was he made to explain everything?

Alright.

Wei Wuxian swallowed the food he’d been about to eat, his mind occupied enough with more important things than to actually taste it now. It rested heavily in his stomach, and he thought for one moment to pick up the chopsticks to gain a moment’s more time maybe. But he didn’t prolong with his answer to Baoshan Sanren. Instead, a now familiar talisman was drawn from his sleeve. He didn’t start telling their tale, that would be taking too long to write it this way, so he used one word, written as a question, an offer to her.

He asked to perform empathy.

.

They left the library’s stifling halls to the nearby inn where Lan Zhan rented them a room, before Wei Ying went and bought enough cinnabar for their experimental time travelling array. It would be risky, since they had no way to test it beforehand, but Wei Wuxian was positive the chance of success laid by around sixty percent. He’d taken greater risks before – something Lan Zhan had been upset to hear.

His grandmaster was waiting for them at the inn’s entrance, and wordlessly followed them until they were around two li from the bustling settlement. If Wei Wuxian’s idea to use both spiritual and resentful energy to make time travel possible didn’t work and blew up in their faces, at least no one else had to suffer from the backlash.

Determined to not have them all blasted to dust, Wei Wuxian got to work, carefully drawing each sigil, the lines as clear as he could make them with his arm shaking from the knowledge of the risks. Not for him. He’d once given up his golden core, with a fifty percent chance of not surviving the ordeal. What really had him shake from nerves was that he’d once again brought Lan Zhan into his mess, risking his life simply by staying with Wei Ying.

Too much could go wrong with this, so he had to make sure it wouldn’t. Wei Ying couldn’t live with being the cause for Lan Zhan’s death. Not again.

The cinnabar was running out. He did the last of the carefully chosen sigils. Baoshan looked over the drawn array with critical eyes. She nodded. Her experience with arrays was limited to what existed in her time, but she was a lot like Wei Ying who didn’t let the orthodox stop her in search of new ways to improve something. After empathy, she’d not hesitated to brainstorm on safety measures for the time travel back to their time.

As she now seemed satisfied with the array, Wei Ying breathed a little easier. His fears were there, but they were manageable with his grand master’s approval. And this had been the easy part.

Next, they would need to pour spiritual and resentful energy into it, both offering up some of their blood. Hopefully, they’d land in their fifteen year old bodies. Why they’d been bodily transferred here, Wei Ying didn’t know. Probably because no prior version of himself or Lan Wangji existed here.

They had to say goodbye though, before going home. Baoshan had become a friend they were sad to leave behind, despite knowing she lived in their time as an immortal. Wei Ying would have liked to spend more time with her now that she knew him as her disciple’s son instead of the stranger who’d helped her out on a nighthunt.

Her eyes held a wistful look like she knew his thoughts. “I’m going to wait for you to visit me in the future. And I’ll be able to tell you about your mother then, Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian gave a small teary laugh and changed his mind of doing a polite, respectful bow. Instead he hugged her fiercely. He knew her for a short time, but she’d become a friend he was going to miss. The promise of hearing more about his mother from her was something he would hold on to for the future.

“Wangji also thanks, daozhang Sanren. Your help has been appreciated.” Lan Zhan said, a gentleman by doing the appropriate bow. Wei Wuxian had let go of the woman, and stepped up to his soulmate, clasping his hand. He gave a questioning look, answered by a subtle nod from Lan Wangji. They stepped inside the array. Lan Wangji drew Bichen. The pain of the cut across his palm was short. He squeezed his hand to a fist, the blood dropping on a line of cinnabar. The reaction was instant, the moment they added their different energies to the mix.

The array glowed with it, and then, they were gone.

Chapter 7: what are we willing to give?

Chapter Text

Chapter VII

Wei Ying opened his eyes to nothing. Not that there was nothing. Of course, the place he found himself opening his eyes to was made up of something. It was just that whenever he tried to focus on describing the place he came up with a blank, like his brain refused to translate what his eyes took in from his surroundings.

He wasn’t sure if he was standing, sitting, or floating in this nothingness. He was alone. Maybe he had died. The thought brought him to think of Lan Zhan, feeling a pang in his heart. Had he failed? Had Lan Zhan’s trust in him led to the cultivator’s death and now he was all alone, floating in his own bubble of nothing?

What are you willing to give?

What?

Wei Ying looked around for the origin of the voice, but he was still alone.

What are you willing to give?

“Wei Ying?!” Lan Zhan was suddenly there, and Wei Ying wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Or both. He was happy to have Lan Zhan here, but he feared the meaning behind the reason for it.

The nothingness held no yellow talisman paper for him to communicate this way with Lan Zhan. He hoped his reaction made it clear that he was just as confused by the situation. Lan Zhan reached for him, hugging him close. Wei Ying breathed in the sandalwood scent clinging to the other, a familiar and calming scent by now. Lan Wangji was like an artwork on a white page, his hair like ink spilled on paper with a brush. He was everything in the nothing they found themselves in.

The voice decided to interrupt their moment, by repeating the question again.

“Who’s there?”, Lan Wangji called out, eyes searching for someone in the shifting… fog? Mist? Colours? Wei Ying tried not to define their surroundings, because it gave him a headache and his mind still refused to interpret anything beyond the aforementioned.

Finally, as if having waited to be acknowledged by them, the voice answered.

All have forgotten my name… but I was once known as a benevolent goddess. I saw your suffering and gave you another chance. Why did you reject my gift?

The voice sounded like she was hurt by their try at another time travel. Wei Wuxian hadn’t encountered a true goddess before, but he’d heard their blessings weren’t to be taken lightly. He bowed which didn’t make him float away, so he must be standing on something, probably. Good to know, but irrelevant. If she had been the one to sent them back, then she must know he couldn’t answer her. The moment he thought that, his throat started burning. Involuntarily, he reached up with one hand. The skin of his throat felt cool, the scar of the guqin string felt as a slight unevenness of skin beneath his fingertips. The burning feeling had stopped already. He moved his lips, hesitant to provide sound for the questions threatening to fall from them now.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t known for self-restraint. “...Zhan. Lan Zhan! I can talk again!”

Lan Wangji looked as overwhelmed as Wei Ying felt. The voice spoke again, you rejected my gift. I returned the sacrifice.

“Sacrifice? So, if we wanted to travel back to our fifteen year old selves, we would need to sacrifice something again?” he asked. Wei Wuxian got the feeling the voice was nodding in agreement.

What are you willing to give?, the voice asked. I didn’t think I needed to give you this option twice. And wow, the voice sounded a bit miffed now. Wei Wuxian winced. Hopefully they hadn’t angered them by their try at time travel.

“What do you want from us, for letting us go back?”, was Lan Zhan’s question.

The world needs balance. An equal exchange, even us gods can’t stand above this law.

“So for the first time, you took my voice in exchange for our lives and sent us back to a time before everything would happen. A time where we couldn’t intervene with events from the Sunshot Campaign, or when we were alive. Does this mean, the prize for travelling back to our actual timeline to prevent things from happening… it would be more than that, right?”

The first time they hadn’t been asked and simply given this chance. If they hadn’t tried to return, if she hadn’t intervened again, they wouldn’T have known his muteness was the prize for this second chance. Their third chance was going to cost them a lot more.

Equivalent exchange, the voice reminded them. There must be balance, or the world will fall into chaos.

This didn’t sound ominous at all. Wei Wuxian thought about what he would give, to see his shijie not in mourning white because Wei Ying had killed her husband. Jiang Cheng not losing his parents, their disciples not slaughtered by Wens. Lan Zhan’s home wouldn’t be burned to the ground, they could even find A-Yuan and have him grow up somewhere better than a mountain of corpses and resentment.

He would give everything for that chance.

Predictably, Lan Zhan disagreed. “Wei Ying!”, he said with a pleading look in his eyes. Telling him to reconsider. Not wanting him to give more of himself away for others. Lan Zhan gripped his arm as if he could physically hold him back from answering to the goddess.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeated softly, pleading with him.

“I’m willing to give whatever is necessary.” he said, despite Lan Zhan silently judging him with his eyes. He looked into depths of molten gold and tried to get across that he would not be persuaded to change his decision on this. The other closed his eyes, opening them again with determination in them.

“Whatever is necessary,” he agreed. “But not Wei Ying’s life.”

The ability to change what happened. Time can be rewritten. The prize… the burden of what happened is yours.

Their surroundings, an ever shifting nothing, slowly changed and grew darker. The presence left them until they were engulfed in complete darkness. Wei Wuxian gripped Lan Wangji’s hand tight in his, then he was blinking his eyes open to a lot of startled sounding voices he didn’t recognize at first.

In the chaos he thought, maybe they should have asked nicely for where she would have them re-enter their timeline.

Chapter 8: and you've turned to a stranger

Chapter Text

Chapter VIII

There was a lot of confusion, raised voices and white clad cultivators all around them. Pain from his elbows’ painful acquaintance with the ground – dark polished rosewood that was as unforgiving as the stone walkways outside. His hipbone twinged from having at first collided with a table. Between the cultivator and the table, he was the greater force and Lan Wangji heard the clatter of several brushes and other writing tools hit the floor. Lan Wangji heard Wei Ying curse. In his mind, he indulged in some unflattering thoughts of his own for the piece of furniture he had to thank for the bruises later. The entity – goddess – had probably been miffed still by their attempt at a time travelling array, after their first time travel had been her work. He hadn’t been conscious the first time around, so maybe they’d arrived like that last time too. It was… unpleasant, and Lan Wangji wouldn’t recommend it.

There was a commotion, as someone entered the lánshì, followed by several hushed exclamations of “Zewu-jun!”

His brother was here.

Lan Xichen looked concerned, alarmed, relieved, his face portraying open worry as he breathed, “Wangji?”

Lan Wangji stumbled to his feet, none of his usual grace found in suddenly inhabiting his younger self’s body. The disconnect between his perception of his limbs and their actual dimensions was disconcerting at first. He threatened to meet the edge of another table, but a pair of hands prevented him from this fate. Lan Wangji met Wei Ying’s eyes, instantly glad to have proof that the goddess – entity – didn’t break her promise.

His brother was here.

Lan Wangji gained control over his limbs and put himself between his brother and Wei Ying. He felt cold having both in the same room already. His rational mind told him how ridiculous his action must be. The Lan Xichen in front of him wouldn’t harm the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, but it was hard to listen to that voice when he was reminded of the last time he saw his brother, flashes of a guqin string wrapped around a pale throat, blood splattering on the ground–

Wei Ying was a warm, reassuring presence at his back, and he would keep it this way, he swore to himself. Never looking away from Lan Xichen, he could see the reaction to his behaviour in his brother. Lan Xichen’s relief upon seeing him had him ready to stride forward into the room, maybe to embrace him. Upon the younger twin Jade’s defensive move in front of the other boy with him, Lan Xichen had halted his step in shock at the way Wangji was looking ready to draw Bichen. He’d looked into familiar golden eyes, but he hadn’t recognized the look his brother had shot him first. Like he was afraid of him.

“Wangji,” he said, and hesitated. Staying at the distance of a whole five feet, at the entrance to the lánshì. Remembering that Lan Wangji had vanished from the Cloud Recesses one week ago. He’d been missing for a full xún, with Xichen notified by a disciple of the second Jade’s reappearance in the middle of lectures.

Lan Wangji had swayed on his feet, held up by the black clad person with him. The way his brother had leaned into the touch in a subtle way had spoken of familiarity and trust. As much as it made him happy to see his brother opening up, finally, to someone else who wasn’t his elder brother, he still wondered who that young man was to suddenly stand by Wangji’s side like he’d always been there and always will.

“Zewu-jun,” he was addressed by the aforementioned young man from around the protective form of his brother. “We apologize for interrupting lectures.”

Lan Xichen looked at the spilled ink staining the wooden floor boards, a disciple doing their best to mop it up to prevent it becoming a permanent mark on the wood. Two of the tables had been upended, books and brushes being collected by another disciple who tried to stay out of the focus of his elders by moving around like a thief as he picked up another brush.

“Yes, I would say you did this quite successfully.” Lan Xichen said, using his amiable sect leader voice. He continued in a concerned, more personal tone to his brother. “Wangji, what happened?” Seeing they had listeners to their conversation, he said, “Leave us.”

Upon his words, the lánshì cleared out. Teacher Lan Yue and the disciples left in orderly fashion. The boy who’d nervously picked up ink brushes nearly broke the rule of no running, he was out the door so fast, with only a whisper of his robes that he’d been here.

The tension in the room didn’t abate with only the three of them here, like Lan Xichen had expected. Lan Wangji’s grip on Bichen didn’t loosen with less eyes on him. The young cultivator whose name he still didn’t know made a step forward, one hand moving to grip Lan Wangji’s shoulder to get his attention. “Lan Zhan, come on. We can’t stand around here all day like this. Zewu-jun is going to believe you’ve turned to actual Jade if you continue to glare at him like this.”, he said with a slight rasp heard in his voice.

“Wei Ying,” his brother voiced displeasure saying the other’s name, and oh, this was new. His brother who hadn’t looked away from Xichen once, turned his eyes slowly to the black clad cultivator and his face held so much unnamed emotion that Xichen felt the need to look away, because he felt like an intruder.

Meanwhile, Wei Ying had to decide on how to feel seeing Lan Zhan so angry at his brother, nearly drawing his sword against him! The bond between the twin Jades had been a close one, so it hurt to see the way Lan Xichen was obviously barely concealing his worry in front of the younger disciples, and the way Lan Zhan had immediately gone to protect Wei Ying from his own family. Wei Ying had had many people out for his blood as the Yiling Patriarch. He just wished it hadn’t been Lan Xichen to be the one holding the metaphorical blade in the end, because of the way it had hurt Lan Zhan the most to witness his brother executing his zhiji.

Wei Wuxian didn’t protest Lan Zhan’s protective stance in front of him, but he did lay his hand on his shoulder as he stepped out of Lan Zhan’s well-meant shielding of his body and apologized for their chaotic entrance into Cloud Recesses. Hearing they’d been missing for a full week, Wei Wuxian wondered if this held any meaning to their planned changes in the timeline.

He tried to lighten the mood with his words and winced at the way Lan Zhan said his name. Like he was saying, I would stay an eternity like this if I could protect you this way, but also, I’m not ready to speak with my brother, because it was my brother who killed you. And Wei Wuxian understood, because he would protect Lan Wangji like that too, wouldn’t he.

--

It was clear to everyone that Lan Wangji was not going anywhere without the other boy, and Lan Xichen felt the need to move their conversation to a more private space. So he invited his brother to the hanshi, where he set up a pot of hot water, taking out the aged tea leaves from his private storage. Both Lan brothers preferred the Gusu Lan’s white teas, that had been brought with by Lan An and were stored under ideal conditions for the leaves to age without losing any of their flavour.

Two weeks ago, he’d had tea with Wangji in the hanshi, to speak about trivial matters and simply to spent time together. Two weeks ago, he’d known to read the small expressions Wangji would allow to cross his face. Two weeks ago, he’d been able to understand every one of these expressions. Two weeks ago, his brother hadn’t looked as haunted as he did now.

“You didn’t appear for breakfast one day,” Xichen began his retelling of the events. “Which was two weeks ago. None of the disciples had seen you leave for a night hunt either. After no word from you for 24 hours, uncle sent out search parties, but there were no traces we could follow.” Remembering how he’d worried about his baby brother being kidnapped or worse, hoping Wangji had simply acted out of some sort of teenage rebellion. The consequences would be severe punishment for the latter, but Xichen would prefer it to Wangji being in danger or in the hands of someone who could walk in and out of Cloud Recesses without setting off the wards.

“Wangji apologizes. Didn’t mean to worry.”

“Did someone take you against your will? Were you kidnapped?” To his relief, his brother shook his head.

“Not kidnapped.”, he said.

“Zewu-jun,” Wei Ying addressed the elder of the twin jades, “Lan Zhan’s disappearance is probably my fault. I was experimenting with some arrays and accidentally activated one of them.” He sounded sincere in his apology, but Lan Xichen could still read Wangji’s avoidance to look him in the eyes when Wei Ying said this. The offered explanation was not the complete truth, and it rattled him that Wangji would partake in such a lie.

“We got both transported to the same location, and it wasn’t until today I found a way to reverse it.”

“Master Wei, please don’t lie to me.” Lan Xichen said, his polite smile showing a sharper edge now. His brother’s gaze snapped to him at the words, glacial coldness in them. Lan Wangji hadn’t once relaxed sitting across from him at the table, and the tension in his shoulders from before was back now. It had briefly left during their conversation. Lan Xichen wanted to close his eyes and erase the picture of his brother looking at him distrustfully from his mind. He didn’t know how he’d deserved it in the first place, but it hurt.

In the stifling silence following his words, Wei Ying cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, zewu-jun... I’m sorry. This lowly disciple apologizes for daring to deceive you, it wasn’t due to any ill-intentions! The truth is, ah... it’s really complicated.”

“Even if it is as you say, master Wei, I would like to hear it.”

The boy looked like he hadn’t considered Lan Xichen’s willingness to hear them out, looking up at him in surprise. He opened his mouth, closed it, and seemed to search for words. He was clearly uncomfortable with the attention on him. Lan Wangji at his side leaned in, their shoulders brushing. It was a small display, but for his little brother who disliked any form of human contact, it was like shouting his feelings in the middle of their uncle’s lectures for all to hear.

Wei Ying found his voice again, “Would you believe me if I told you that we know of the future?”

Chapter 9: I can't recognize you anymore

Chapter Text

Sacrifices IX

Lan Xichen was going to ask what the other meant by asking this question, but before he could demand answers, they were interrupted by a harried looking disciple knocking shortly before storming in. "What is it?" Xichen asked.

The disciple sketched a bow, addressing Lan Xichen afterwards, "Zewu-jun, a messenger from Caiyi town. They ask for assistance in a haunting." The disciple shuffled nervously, having interrupted the meeting to relay his message. "It has taken residence in a storage room near the waterways. Apparently the ghost has already injured more than five of the people working there."

Lan Xichen didn't sigh, but he closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again. Nodding at the disciple, he said, "Have Lan Qianglian take whoever he deems best suited for this night hunt. Gusu Lan will take care of this."

The disciple bowed again, and left the hanshi to follow his clan heir's orders.

Afterwards, Lan Xichen got distracted by more work needing his immediate attention, and so his brother and his friend soon left without, Xichen belatedly realized and cursed inwardly, explaining what Wei Wuxian meant with his question. Did they have knowledge of future events? Had they discovered some grande sheme they couldn't speak about?

It was useless to overthink the matter too much without a direct answer from the two, so Lan Xichen let his brother be for the day. He'd given Wei Wuxian, as the other had finally introduced himself with his courtesy name and as a disciple from Yunmeng Jiang, a guest room.

His brother was absent that evening from dinner in the communal hall, and so was Wei Wuxian. Wangji often preferred to eat in the jingshi, so Lan Xichen shoved the gnawing worry aside and decided to approach his brother tomorrow.

Tomorrow became the day after tomorrow became next week, until enough time had passed for the guest lectures to start and Lan Xichen was busy organizing the stay of the sect heirs and disciples of three of the great clans additionally to his normal work.

So the earliest chance to speak to Wangji again was the morning of the lectures, as he made his way to the jingshi before breakfast. Knocking on his brother's door revealed his brother, his hair still down, but clothed for today in his pristine white robes.

Wangji stood at the door, waiting silently for Xichen to reveal why he was here. He didn't step aside in invitation to let him in. Their uncle would have seen it as very rude. Xichen sighed inwardly at the tensed shoulders and cautious look Wangji hid behind a cold aloofness towards him.

"We haven't had a meal together in a while." he said. He hoped Wangji would let him in. Their relationship had taken a complete turn from brothers to almost strangers and he didn't know why.

"Mn." Wangji said, and it shouldn't make him happy that Wangji found it in himself to acknowledge him with words, having had the privilege to be someone once who Wangji would speak to if he struggled with something.

They stood on the porch another moment. Then, slowly, Wangji moved, retreating back inside. The door was left open. An invitation.

Lan Xichen took it, sliding the door shut behind him and tilting his head with furrowed brows at seeing Wei Wuxian seated at the table, the table obviously set for two. He wasn't blind. The same way Lan Wangji had avoided being questioned by him, he hadn't been seen without Wei Wuxian around.

Uncle's attempts to speak to Wangji had been met with even more resistance. Wangji showed blatant disrespect in ignoring the summons to uncle’s study, but quietly copying the relevant disciplines down afterwards. Lan Xichen knew he went to their uncle's study the next time, and he knew uncle couldn't get much out of his brother, other than that he'd met Wei Wuxian and the Jiang disciple had followed him back to Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian hid a yawn behind his hand, looking like the early hour didn't quite agree with him, but his eyes stayed on Lan Xichen when he moved to stand. "Zewu-jun," he acknowledged him with a deferential bow. Since his stay here, Wei Wuxian had been nothing but polite. Lan Xichen had glimpsed bits of a sunny persona behind it, which he would expect more from someone as young as Wei Wuxian, than the careful maneuvering he'd been subjected to.

Xcihen made an attempt to join the young man at the table on one of the empty seat cushions.

In another blink, Lan Wangji was beside Wuxian again, like an unmovable jade pillar. His pale eyes were glacial. Slightly disconcerted by the sudden hostility he felt from Wangji, Lan Xichen moved to the side and Wangji mirrored him. Barring his way to take a seat at the table. Somehow, his invitation inside the jingshi had just been revoked.

Shoulders sagging, he stepped back. Wangi didn't relax like he'd hoped, but he also didn't kick him out. Xichen had the thought that it was like walking on eggshells around Wangji. Blindfolded, because Xichen had no idea where the eggshells lay before he stepped on them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was intruding on your time didi." he said, intending to leave. He was frustrated his brother wasn't ready to share whatever had happened to make him act this way with him, but he tried to respect his brother's privacy now by gracefully stepping away.

Wei Wuxian was it who cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Ah, zewu-jun... Lan Zhan can be overprotective, but we would both like it to have you join us for breakfast, wouldn't we, Lan Zhan?"

They shared a meaningful look. Lan Xichen wondered not for the first time, what had happened to create such protectiveness in his brother. And how Wei Wuxian had come to share such a close bond with his brother to be able to communicate wordlessly like this while Xichen was no longer able to read him.

"...en."

Lan Wangji sat down beside Wuxian and took his chopsticks. He dished some steamed vegetables in Wuxian's bowl, before taking some for himself. Clearly, he used the ‘silence during meals’ rule to avoid speaking more. Lan Xichen wasn't even angry to have his brother avoid him yet again. He was saddened to see Wangji needed the excuse at all.

Xichen sat down across from them, aware of the space between him and the two young cultivators, how he was more of a guest in his brother's quarters than the actual guest in Cloud Recesses.

—

Wangji ignored the eyes of his uncle boring into his skull from the front of the room. The pavillion was filled with guest disciples from the attending sects, the rustling of paper and the grinding of inkstones tethering him to the world or else Wangji felt he threatened to float away, into memories of his shufu looking at him in disappointment, always judging him for his choices regarding Wei Ying.

Wei Ying who was beside him seated at a pult, one hand holding the brush and copying notes, the other one, holding Lan Wangji's, hidden behind the table and Lan Wangji's flowing sleeve. Another tether to the world.

Shufu had been angry when Lan wangji had ignored his first summon after returning to the past. Wei Ying had talked him into meeting his uncle the second time, wherein Wangji had avoided every and all questions on where he'd been and listened to shufu until shufu had gritted his teeth and asked him in concern if he needed to see a healer, if something had been done to him that he didn't want him or Lan Xichen to know. Hearing shufu this concerned had made Wangji feel conflicted inside. It was a n amount of honest concern for his well-being he'd last heard when he'd been sick with fever as a child, before he'd begun cultivating his golden core. He’d known shufu had cared for them, even when he’d been strict with Xichen and Wangji the older they became. It hurt more in the end, to see shufu disappointed in him than Wangji wanted to admit.

He had assured shufu that he was fine, and fled his uncle's study afterwards, strangely guilty but also not able to trust shufu with the truth. Lan Qiren had always held a less than stellar opinion of Wei Ying. Who assured him that he wouldn't react the same way this time around?

He felt less inclined to speak to xiongzhang. Thinking of his brother made him want to throw up and sent pain lancing through his heart. He felt fear every time he saw him near Wei Ying, at the same time missing the brother he could confide in in the past. Xiongzhang had known. He'd known how Lan Wangji felt, before he himself knew of his feelings. It hadn't mattered when the Jins called for compensation for the death of the Jin sect heir. Lan Xichen had still taken Wei Ying's life.

He wouldn't allow anymore harm to come to Wei Ying if he could help it.

Wei Ying's shidi and shijie had arrived yesterday, together with the Yunmeng Jiang delegation. The reunion of the siblings had been filled with a lot of shouting from Jiang Wanyin, and relieved tears from Jiang Yanli. Wei Ying had met them nervously, trying to find the person he'd been before the war and the burial mounds, and told them the story they'd agreed on earlier. Wei Ying had gone night hunting alone, met Lan Wangji, and followed him to Gusu since the guest lectures would start in a week anyway.

Jiang Wanyin had been as loud as Lan wangji remembered him in his displeasure towards Wei Ying, but Wei Ying's expression had told him more than Wanyin's behaviour ever could about the concern hiding behind the prickly exterior of the young Jiang heir.

Jiang Wanyin sat two rows behind them in the pavillion and had stared daggers at them at the beginning, for Wei Ying choosing the stiff second Jade over his shidi. Lan Wangji didn't care for Wanyin's childish jealousy. Wei Ying was free to sit where he wanted. Nevertheless he was glad Wei Ying hadn't left his side.

It was of course not long before Jiang Wanyin decided to accost his brother, after classes had ended for the day.

"I don't understand you. Why would you suddenly be friends with Lan Wangji?" Jiang Wanyin asked, purposefully blocking the way. Nie Huisang stood off to the side, fluttering his fan nervously and trying to melt into the shadows. He’d obviously followed his friend, but now seemed to decide to escape the situation between the two sect brothers.

"Jiang Cheng," Wei Ying said, "be a bit nicer to my friends. And why wouldn't I be friends with someone like Lan Zhan? He's great!"

Jiang Wanyin snorted in disbelief. "Great? Are you even hearing yourself Wei Wuxian? First you go missing and nobody knows where the hell you are, and now you're friends with Lan Wangji?"

Wei Wuxian was trying to play at being carefree and simply thinking of his brother's concern as an overreaction. His fingers gripping tightly at Lan Wangji's robes were hidden by the billowing sleeves. Lan Wangji glared at Jiang Wanyin, wishing him to go before he could hurt Wei Ying with his thoughtless words.

"Aiyah, a-Cheng! This shixiong of yours apologizes for worrying you!"

Wanying spluttered, "Who are you calling a-Cheng?!" He didn't negate being worried though. Wei Ying too grew serious again.

"Tell shijie that I didn't mean to worry her. I was just so excited to enjoy my freedom a bit more before we attended the guest lectures." Wei Ying said.

"You can tell her yourself." Wanyin retorted, furrowing his brow. Wei Ying rubbed his nose, glancing aside. He gave a laugh that was less bright than his usual ones. If Wei Ying was sad to miss an opportunity to see his shijie, Lan Wangji wouldn’t stop him from going. He could survive being away from Wei Ying for half a shi. Quarter of a shi. Okay, maybe he would ask Wei ying if he could come with him.

"Well, I promised Lan Zhan we would study together after the lecture. Ah, sorry. I'll be free tomorrow, maybe?" He paused to wait for a reaction from his shidi. "Come on Lan Zhan let's go." he said, after hesitating for another second, the fingers burrowed in his sleeve gently pulling in a sign to move.

They left Jiang Cheng staring after them in befuddlement. He hadn't even had time to tell Wei Wuxian that Jiang Yanli would make lotus root soup in celebration of having him back.

Chapter 10: chasing ghosts to Caiyi

Chapter Text

Sacrifices X

Jiang Yanli watched her brother go through the sword forms, every single move fuelled by his frustrations about their brother. She sighed as she thought of A-Xian. Her little brother had been missing and she'd not been the only one worried after hearing nothing from A-Xian for weeks. As reckless as he tended to be, A-Xian hated to make anyone worry because of him. Stubborn and selfless, he would rather hide his hurt than tell her. Yanli worried about A-Xian and A-Cheng very much sometimes. Their parents were often too absorbed in their own failed marriage to notice how Jiang Cheng wished for his father's attention, how Wei Ying tried to carry all his burdens alone and never asked for Jiang Fengmian's attention or Madame Yu's scorn. Their family was complicated, but Yanli wouldn't change a thing if it meant losing a close sibling bond she had with her brothers, both of them.

Ladling a helping of still warm soup into a bowl, she called for a-Cheng to come and eat.

―

Wei Wuxian had his head pillowed in Lan Wangji's lap, one of Lan Zhan's hands running through Wei Wuxian's hair while Wei Wuxian felt himself slowly relax. Their whole situation wasn't just affecting Lan Zhan. He, too, found it difficult to reconcile with his life as a teenager and who he'd become as the Yiling Patriarch.

"We can't hide it from everyone." Wei Wuxian said, looking up at Lan Zhan from his position.

"Mn."

"Lan Zhan, were you just going to let me tell zewu-jun everything if we hadn't been interrupted?" he asked. At the time, Wei Wuxian had believed it best to have a sect leader on their side in preventing Wen Ruohan's plans. Now, he wasn't so sure. They would need help of course, but the less people needed to be involved in this, the better.

Lan Zhan hesitated before he answered, "I trust Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian hid his face in Lan Zhan's thigh, face burning. Really, if Lan Zhan wasn't careful, Wei Ying's heart would combust from all this shamelessness! Saying things like that, with such a straight face!

"Lan Zhan!", he whined into the white hanfu the other wore. The hand in his hair stopped its petting motions.

"Should have trusted Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said. "When Wei Ying came back. Using resentful energies. I didn't ask. Just assumed."

Wei Ying couldn't let Lan Zhan think like that. "I misled you too. I didn't want anyone to discover the truth, so I hid it from everyone, letting them think what they wanted."

Lan Zhan sounded regretful, saying, "I should have known."

"You wanted to help me. I just didn't understand you when you asked me to come back to Gusu with you."

Lan Zhan's long hair tickled his skin as the Lan bowed forward, hanging his head. "I wanted to help... brother assured me it would be safe. I failed you, Wei Ying."

sh*t. Lan Zhan sounded like he was going to cry. Wei Wuxian looked up and yeah, Lan Zhan's pale eyes glistened with unshed tears. That hanguang-jun would be brought to tears over someone as vile as him, the Yiling Patriarch... but Lan Zhan had admitted to loving him, and he'd made sure that Wei ying never doubted his words ever since admitting his feelings. Lan Zhan wasn't someone who half-heartedly did things.

Wei Ying hadn't known his own feelings before existed, but once he did he knew he was ruined for anybody else. Lan Zhan was it for him.

"Aiya, Lan Zhan," he spoke softly, reaching up to brush away the tear sliding down Lan Zhan's face. "Don't cry, you're too beautiful to cry. You couldn't save me. Not after what I did."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan whispered and wound his arms around the younger cultivator as if he wanted to be reassured that Wei Wuxian was here.

―

Caiyi town lay fast asleep behind them, the moon the only source of light as Wei Wuxian trudged up ahead while Lan Wangji followed with a slower gait. They had both their swords with them, as well as Lan Wangji’s guqin and a bamboo flute Wei Wuxian had bought in town two days earlier. A lighter wood than Chenqing, lacking the engravings of his ghost flute but of a good enough quality for its intended use.

They’d thought about letting things progress in the same way as before, but the waterborne abyss hadn’t been purged from Biling lake last time and the townspeople had to suffer for it with a decline in fishing while the waterborne abyss was slowly purged from their lake. This time, Wei Wuxian knew how to cleanse the lake by drawing on the resentful energy and leading it towards Lan Zhan who’d be ready with the cleansing techniques of his clan. The plan was only possible with two strong cultivators and one able to utilise demonic cultivation. Which led to them sneaking out at night, alone. Wei Wuxian’s plan would have caused old man Qiren to qi deviate if he knew.

Biling lake came into view, water calmly lapping at the shore. Both cultivators alighted on their swords, Wei Wuxian taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being young and in possession of his core, slightly overshadowed by the memory of falling from a great height into a pit of darkness. Being in control of the sword under his feet didn’t trigger this fear of heights he’d developed after being thrown into the burial mounds, and he could concentrate on their task instead.

It went smoothly, the water ghouls trying to grab them the moment one of them flew down to play at being an easy target to draw them out, the other would cleanly slice through the creatures. Then they swam to the middle of the lake, coalescing into a waterborne abyss. Wei Wuxian gave the sign for Lan Zhan to start playing on Wangji. He drew the bamboo flute from his belt. The notes rang eerily over the lake, deceptively calm for all the resentment he felt emitting from the cold depths. He drew from it, used it to hold the waterborne abyss who was thrashin in the net he’d formed around it. Then, he drained it of energy, his own body as a catalyst to the resentful energy that Lan Zhan dispersed with his guqin.

They worked in harmony, and Wei Wuxian felt a smile play at his lips. They could do this.

And then, the waterborne abyss struck. They’d come too close to the water. Dark tendrils reached for the brightness of Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy, closing around his ankle and tugging. It took the cultivator off guard and Wei wuxian heard the splash more than saw him vanish in the depths of the infested lake.

Wei Wuxian swore and dived into the dark waters of Biling Lake, the white robes a beacon in the dark he could follow. His hand successfully grabbed the robes and he batted away tendrils of resentful energy that dared to approach them. They broke the water’s surface. Air flowed back into his lungs while he tried not to sink back under from the dead weight of Lan Wangji who hung limply in Wei Wuxian’s hold. Wei Wuxian searched with his spiritual energy for Suibian. His loyal sword came whistling through the air and he managed to hold on and fly them to the shore.

Suibian was made for speed and agility, and less for strength. Carrying another person on his sword, already exhausted from fighting the waterborne abyss, he swayed on his feet when they reached solid ground, the muscles in his arm holding Lan Wangji stiff as he laid him down with care. Lan Wangji’s face was pale as the moon, which was shining overhead, but his lashes were fluttering with regained consciousness. To his relief, he seemed alright.

Wei Wuxian checked his state by taking one of Lan Wangji’s wrists and holding two fingers to his meridians, feeling for his qi. It was alarmingly low, no more than a trickle where he knew a river should flow. Grey eyes widened.

How could it be this low?!

Forcing his racing heart to calm down, Wei Wuxian sent some of his own spiritual energy to Lan Wangji who didn’t mention the amount of energy that he used. It told Wei Wuxian how out of it he still was, if he wasn’t even giving a token protest.

Wei Wuxian was worriedly checking for lingering resentful energy when someone coughed pointedly behind him.

He whirled around to find none other than Lan Xichen standing there, expression unreadable. White robes gleamed in the moonlight and brought his mind back to that last night, before he could prevent it from surfacing. He tightened his grip on Lan Zhan who seemed to become more lucid now.

It was too easy to draw on the lingering resentment around him, fueled by his state of mind which led to an overlay of reality and memory. Lan Xichen, eyes hard as he wrapped the string around his throat. Lan Xichen, eyes drawn in concern and alarm as he looked behind Wei Wuxian to his brother. Lan Wangji glared back, strands of hair clinging together and not helping in the image of a half-drowned ghost with his waterlogged white robes ruined by the lake water. There was a smudge of blood on his sleeve where he’d been dragged under from the tendrils wrapping around the limb.

Wei Wuxian’s own eyes were probably glowing red from drawing on the resentful energy like a protective cloak. Lan Wangji’s presence gave him much needed focus, and it was Lan Wangji whose hand at his shoulder made him calm down and had him dissipate the resentful energy.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji said. A respectful acknowledgement, but said in a dead monotone. Wei Wuxian could see the brotherly concern in Lan Xichen’s eyes flatten in pain. The overlaying image of a more jaded man began to splinter and crack, leaving behind the young man who cared deeply for his younger brother.

Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian mused while watching the brothers, probably never stopped caring for Lan Wangji. He’d always cared for him, evident in his anger for Wei Wuxian who hadn’t known of Lan Wangji’s feelings until the very end where he’d selfishly demanded a kiss. But in the end, like Jiang Cheng, zewu-jun had chosen his duty as sect leader over his brother. There were a lot of things Wei Wuxian had done that justified this decision. Wei Wuxian had been glad, because it could have just as well been a fate the rest of the Wens with him would meet, if the Jins had decided on a siege on the burial mounds. This way, only Wei Wuxian had been held for his crimes.

There were a lot of things Wei Wuxian could forgive, but not the way Lan Zhan had been made to suffer needlessly on his behalf.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen spoke, eyes flitting between them and to the lake, settling again on his brother. “Someone saw you leave.” In the middle of the night. “And I followed you because uncle and I are worried about you. What is it I’m seeing here, Wangji? What if you were hurt and didn’t return? I wouldn’t have known until the next day!” Amber eyes looked beseechingly at the younger twin jade, clearly waiting for an answer and getting only silence. The elder Lan sounded defeated as he asked, “Where has my younger brother gone that I can’t follow him?”

Like a sign from the universe itself, the heavens opened up and drenched them all in rain.

―

Their way back had been spent in silence, Lan Xichen leading them to an inn where he rented two rooms from a slightly wide eyed looking proprietor. The man didn’t comment on the state of the group, taking the money and promising to leave a tray of leftover dishes at their door. Lan Xichen thanked him and threw a look over his shoulder at the duo to follow him.

Wangji had been leaning against Wei Wuxian from exhaustion. Cultivators were resilient and seldom caught standard diseases like a common cold, but Xichen was worried by the slight blue tinge of Wangji’s lips and the way young master Wei shuddered from the chill of the rain. In this state, making it all the way back to Cloud Recesses was out of the question. He would need to make sure no wounds from their unauthorized nighthunt were left unattended until a healer could look them over.

From the way they looked at him, it was unlikely he would be able to. Xichen closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. One thing at a time, he told himself.

He’d been unable to sleep and taken to wander along the walls surrounding Cloud Recesses, when he’d met the disciple giving him the news of having seen someone in white robes leave over the wall. Something had told him it wasn’t just a rebellious disciple sneaking into Caiyi to have some fun. He’d taken Shuoye from the hanshi and followed the trail, until he realized he wasn’t following one person but two and the trail was leading him to Biling lake.

He’d been shocked to find his brother and Wei Wuxian at the shore, looking like water corpses themselves after they’d dealt with whatever they’d come here for. Lan Xichen still needed an explanation on that one. He was more concerned with the behaviour his brother showed him lately.

He knew Wangji as someone who took their sect rules seriously, his upholding of their sect rules having led to him being in charge of discipline. Shufu was a strict teacher, but he hadn’t raised them wholly without love. When they’d still been Huan-gege and A-Zhan, his little brother had gone to him with his problems, trusting his elder brother to solve whatever it was.

They had both grown up in the years following, leaving him with sect duties piling up the older he got and Wangji with trying to shoulder his share to help lighten the burden. They may no longer share every single thought like when they were children, but Wangji had never completely closed off from him in his life. He had never gone against curfew to night hunt alone. He’d never ignored Xichen’s worries with conflicted looks, like a single word said may scald him.

Lan Xichen learned that even his unending patience had an end, and this end was reached the moment he realized he could lose his brother to this uncertain space of not-knowing he found himself in. Despite all his brotherly senses telling him not to press, he asked the questions burning inside his chest like pyres.

“What is going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and shufu. Don’t think we didn’t notice it. I tried to give you space, but if giving you space means you’re carelessly endangering yourself like this-” he breathed in, noticing how he lost some of his composure while speaking, before he regained it and plowed on, “I can’t watch on and say nothing.”

Wei Wuxian visibly squirmed from his place next to Wangji, while his younger brother looked stricken at him. It was a more honest emotion than he’d seen from Wangji in weeks. Lan Xichen felt bad about causing his brother pain, but this couldn’t go on. Sometimes it was better to reset the bone so it could heal the right way, than to let it heal wrong and have the limb crippled for the rest of one’s life.

Resolute he waited, and asked, “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you for it. If that is what you fear. I don’t even know anymore, I don’t know what happened to make you think you were alone in this..!”

His voice left him, breaking from the desperation he felt rising up with every word. It threatened to choke him and leave him gasping for breath. Finally, Wangji seemed to come alive. His glare was filled with emotion, anger, hatred, fear, uncertainty, and worst of all, betrayal. One that reached deep and shook him to the core.

“You won’t hurt Wei Ying,” Wangji said, voice breaking no compromise. Xichen nodded, swift in affirming that he wouldn’t hurt the guest disciple his brother had befriended. He didn’t know why Wangji was so adamant about that, what had led him to believe he would harm his friend.

“And...xiongzhang should not blame himself.”

“Alright.” he said, wondering what he shouldn't blame himself for, until he saw the whip marks.

Lan Wangji, after being assured that his conditions would be met, had started stripping out of his layers down to his inner robes and taken even these off, so he was left in his undershirt and pants. He had taken the shirt off too, leaving his chest and back bare to reveal the amount of whip scars decorating the entire length of his back.

There were many, spanning across his brother’s back like a twisted piece of art. Raised lines parting the skin and deep enough to have cut into the muscle, maybe even down to the bone when they’d been inflicted. Lan Xichen could only stand there and watch in horror as his brother revealed his back to him.

He hadn’t turned his back to him when Xichen had had breakfast in the jingshi with Wangji. Or when he spoke to them in the hanshi. Or when they crossed paths outside the orchid room. Belatedly he realized it was because of this, that Wangji hadn't felt comfortable to turn his vulnerable side to him.

The wounds were healed enough to not tear open again, but the scars would stay forever. Someone had marked his brother’s skin like this, he thought. A sob escaped his lips. “Wangji… who did this?”

His brother’s gaze begged him to know the answer to that question, but Lan Xichen had no idea what else to say or ask at this moment. His brother’s gaze felt like a brand upon his skin, his failure to protect Wangji from this.

The room seemed smaller all of a sudden around him. Lan Xichen let the tears fall and knelt before his brother with his arms loosely at his sides. He wanted to hug him, but feared that it wasn’t wanted. So he made it clear that he would allow Wangji to decide if he wanted to.

His brother didn’t embrace him, but he did take his hands and held them. It was enough for him.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji said, turning to the guest disciple still in the room with them. “I don’t know how to say it with words.”

Lan Xichen saw the other nod with a look of sad understanding at his brother’s admission. The hands holding his squeezed lightly, before pale eyes bore into his and Wangji looked at him with urgent seriousness. Wei Wuxian spoke. “It is...complicated. The truth is impossible to believe. Lan Zhan is offering to show you through empathy, because this way you will know we aren’t lying about anything.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to tell me instead? Empathy is a dangerous practice.”

Wei wuxian assured him, “I’ve done it before and can get you both safely back if something happens.”

“Xiongzhang,” Wangji murmured. Xichen looked into pale eyes, and saw the wary measure of trust he was given. If he wanted answers this was his only chance it seemed. He sighed, and took the hands offered to him. He closed his eyes and was swept into memory.

Chapter 11: sharing empathy

Chapter Text

Chapter XI

Lan Xichen had experienced empathy once before and the feeling this time wasn't better. It was dizzying at first, to be viewing the world from the view of someone else. Xichen knew his brother as a silent person, so he wasn't prepared for the assault on his senses when he could feel every conscious thought WangJi had.

The fresh air of Gusu mountain. The start of lectures. Wei Wuxian, head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, a different first meeting. The disciple broke the rules by entering after curfew, bringing alcohol and trying to bribe him, Wangji, with alcohol. Xichen was amused at his brpthrs reaction, the younger thrown by this shameless boy with his mischievous carefree smile and swift steps as he evaded Bichen holding onto his jars of emperor's smile. Wangji was secretly thrilled at the talent the disciple had, frustrated all the same. A lot of his thoughts were about the way grey eyes would flash in the moonlit night, the way the bright laughter would stir something in him. Xichen laughed, oh Wangji… his brother was outwardly said to be made of ice, but he still fell in love just as hard as any other Lan.

Wangji at the moment may not know it as he attacked the disciple and dragged him to shufu and Xichen, but he had fallen hard and fast for Wei Wuxian.

—

Flashes of the guest lectures. Moments spent in the library with Wei Wuxian who had to copy conduct a lot of times. Fondness for the guest disciple followed by irritation and confusion. The internal struggle of not giving into his urge to just pin the other boy down and-

Xichen would blush red if he could, but in the memory he was Wangji who shot Wei Wuxian a glare when he came over to wheedle a response out of the older boy.

—

“Lan Zhan! Look at me!”

“Shameless!”

—

Memory snippets revealed the passing of time, and Xichen learned of the war and the ensuing Sunshot Campaign, and the aftermath for the surviving Wens.

—

A child. Panic as it clung to his leg, then Wei Ying. Thin and tired looking but smiling as freely as he had during their youth, and a day spent together that was bright among bleak memories of days spent worrying for him. Rumours of the Yiling Patriarch in snippets of thoughts, carried with them his anger at the slander. Gossiping was forbidden in Cloud Recesses, but the rest of the cultivation world used it freely to undermine Wei Ying’s role in winning the war.

Wei Ying was a powerful weapon they couldn’t control, so they feared him and painted him as evil.

—

“Brother, I want to bring someone back to Cloud Recesses. Bring them back and hide them.”

—

Time passed again. The situation seemed to change only slightly from the last memory, Wangji once again facing Lan Xichen on the terrace at the top of the steps to Jinlintai.

It was strange to look at himself, and see the way he arranged his face into a careful mask.

“Wangji-”

“Xionghzhang.” There was urgency in Wangji as he pleaded with his brother to listen. Xichen felt shocked as the knowledge of Jin Zixuan’s death transferred to him.

Brother sighed, looking out across the pristine white stone steps. “Alright. Bring him to Gusu. He’ll have my protection.”

Lan Xichen felt numb while he watched himself lie to Wangji whose hope fluttered in his chest like a bird. Zewu-jun had lied without hesitation and the thought sent a chill down his spine.

—

Lan Wangji returned to the burial mounds. He wasn't the only one. Jiang Yanli, covered in mourning white, had seen it fit to visit her brother to get the truth from him. Thanks to her presence, sect leader Jiang agreed on sheltering the Wen remnants and Wei Wuxian agreed to go to Gusu. His eyes held a defeated look to them.

Wangji, please. Look at him, he isn't following you for protection! Wangji!

No matter how he shouted at his brother, this was but a memory and he couldn't change anything. Both young men flew to Cloud Recesses on Bichen.

Xichen could only watch as cultivators escorted them inside. Finally, Wangji became suspicious. The escort was unneeded and the disciples escorting them were looking nervously at the dark clad Yiling Patriarch. Wei Wuxian himself had walked slowly, as if he was unwilling to meet whatever fate was in store for him.

One of the disciples sketched a bow, "We'll escort the prisoner from here, hanguang-jun."

A moment later, panic blossomed on the disciple's face, but it was too late.

"Prisoner?" Wangji repeated, his hope shot like a bird from the sky. Xichen wished to close his eyes, look away from the scene unfolding before him. Being able to read Wangji's intentions made seeing what happened next worse.

His brother drew Bichen on the alarmed disciples. Wei Wuxian's gaze flickered with confused hope. Had he truly believed Wangji would sentence him as a criminal like the rest, after everything Xichen had witnessed? Xichen wanted to hit his head against a wall by how dense someone this brilliant could be. Lan Wangji wounded several of his own clan in his desperate attempt to free Wei Wuxian. His emotions were in complete turmoil. Xichen wanted to shy away from them all, unable to face the visceral hurt Wangji felt. His vision was awash with sheer panic at being unable to help Wuxian who clung to his tight grip on his arm, speechless and stumbling along. They didn't make it.

Lan Xichen was faced with the Lan Xichen from Wangji’s memory, his face a stony mask.

"Wangji. Stop this."

"Xiongzhang!" There was a tremble in Wangji's voice. A small flicker of hope, overshadowed by Wangji's resolution to take Wei Wuxian somewhere safe even if it meant drawing Bichen at the elder jade.

"When you told me, I could bring Wei Ying to Gusu so that he would be safe. Xiongzhang… you lied?"

You lied to me?

No, I wouldn't! I would never..! But memory Lan Xichen had lied and deceived Wangji, and his answer made Xichen despair.

"It was necessary. Wei Wuxian murdered a sect heir and Jin Guangshan is calling for retribution. A-Yao could talk him down to let the Wens go, but not the Yiling Patriarch."

Xichen swallowed bitterly, hearing himself.

"I'm truly sorry, Wangji."

Are you really?

Xichen had thought this was the worst everything could go, with himself deceiving his brother and giving Wei Wuxian over to the Jins.

No.

It got worse.

So much worse.

Wangji fought against the clan disciples standing in his way, Bichen finally drawn against the elder twin jade, hesitating for a moment. Bichen trembled in his grip. Wangji had never wanted this. He didn't want this. Why couldn't he save the man who held his heart? Why had brother lied to him?

Wuxian's hand slipped out of his grip, and he whirled around. "Wei Ying!?"

Wei ying smiled sadly. "Don't fight your brother for me, Lan Zhan."

What-

No.

No!

He was quickly restrained, his core sealed. The abruptness of having his qi sealed away had him stumbling. White robes from clan disciples blocked his vision of Wei Ying who was taken away from him.

"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji and Xichen shouted simoultanously.

The scene changed again.

Lan Xichen found himself kneeling, golden core still sealed and before him Wei Ying, the demonic cultivator on his knees, hair escaping the red ribbon and grey eyes looking sadly at him.

Wei Ying smiled, his beautiful sun bright smile, Wangji thought, heart breaking in his chest.

Lan Wangji had convinced him to come back. After everything, their friendship strained by the paths they’d taken after the sunshot campaign, and Wei Wuxian protecting the Wen remnants and still following his heretic cultivation despite the obvious strain on him - after everything, Wei Ying had only gifted him a sad smile and nodded, when Lan Wangji had asked once again, to go back, go back to Gusu with him. Let me protect you, let me take care of you. I love you.

Xichen wanted to scream. His brother's thoughts teared at him, the trust Wangji had had in him as sect leader, to stand against the other sects in protection of this man...

Xichen watched his brother beg him, uncle, the elders, for Wei Wuxian's life. Agreeing to the harshest punishment in exchange for Wei Wuxian's life, like his own life was worth nothing.

The pity in Lan Xichen's eyes was unbearable.

Wei Ying was on his knees, and they were close enough for Wangji to make out the small flecks of dark grey in Wei Ying’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” whispered Wei Ying. His voice sounded brittle and defeated and Lan Wangji hated it. Hated the reason for Wei Ying to be so-

“Lan Zhan, promise me. One last wish, yeah? Just a small one, but promise me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, his head brushing against Wei Ying’s. He heard the disciples at his back shift as he drifted closer into Wei Ying’s space, there to restrain him. “Anything,” he promised. “Whatever Wei Ying wants.”

Wake up, Xichen thought. Why are you doing this?!

“You’re too good to me Lan Zhan! Anything, really?!” Wei Ying teased him, but they had no time for games.

The Lan elders grew restless, and both men stiffened at the frosty atmosphere around them. Not that Lans shifted their stance or any other outward sign, but it was clear time was running out. Wei Ying’s time was running out. Lan Wangji felt a hand on his shoulder. A reminder.

Xichen wished he could close his eyes, his ears, to the memory playing out before him. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were allowed one last kiss, before they were ripped apart by uncaring hands.

The pain in Wangji's screams reflected the stabbing pain in his chest from reaching for his sealed core.

His frantic calls were ignored. Lan Xichen made a motion for the courtyard to be cleared, Wei Wuxian kneeling before him.

Meanwhile Xichen was frozen in shock, if he could even feel anything anymore by the way Wangji's emotions tried to drown him.

The eyes of sect leader Lan were cold as the Yiling Patriarch died at his hand. Lan Wangji's panic, desperation to reach out, anything to save his zhiji, all stopped as numbness spread.

His struggles stopped, his eyes glued to the lifeless form on the ground. There were people talking, but their words blurred in the memory, because Wangji hadn't registered them at that moment.

Wangji was dragged forward. Xichen screamed at his other self, his mental voice hoarse with emotions he didn't know were him or the Wangji from the memory. It didn't matter.

There was an order to disrobe that went ignored by Wangji. His robes were forcefully removed, until all that was left were his pants. The elders told him of his punishment. Thirty three lashes by the discipline whip, a death sentence. Xichen saw himself open his mouth, was he coming to his senses and going to protect Wangji from this?

His glimmer of hope was shattered, Lan Xichen not believing it as he saw himself close his mouth again and letting the punishment proceed.

This was wrong. Shufu hadn't said anything at all, for the duration of the memory, never stepping in, an observant through it all. Wangji was on his own, kneeling on the ground as his flesh was ripped from his back, the phantom pain of the whip making Xichen feel wretched. His mind felt like it was fraying at the edges.

This was how his brother had been scarred?!

Sensation seemed to blur together. Xichen had no idea what was happening as he could no longer feel the ground or the pain from the whip or the blood flowing down his back. Wangji's thoughts too were slower, until he didn't feel anything at all.

—

Lan Xichen managed to sway to the side, crawling on all fours, before throwing up the contents of his stomach. Tears stung his eyes and left him bitter. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs as he registered that he'd just felt his baby brother die.

He'd killed his brother.

The thought had him nearly throw up a second time. The look in his own eyes would haunt him forever. Cold measured pity. This couldn't have been him.

Lan Xichen was without strength when his brother's hand brushed against his back. It was like a dam broke inside him and led him to lose the fight against the ugly sobs spilling out of him now.

His muffled apologies felt hollow in the ringing silence to him. Did he even deserve their forgiveness? How could Wei Wuxian stand to be in the same room as his killer? How could Wangji?

Chapter 12: this bleak a morning

Chapter Text

Chapter XII

Lan Wangji came out of empathy slower than his brother whose hands he’d felt withdrawing suddenly from their hold on his. The sound of retching reached his ears a moment later, followed by deep, heavy sobs. Opening his eyes, he first found Wei Ying sitting close to his side, the worry on his love’s face smoothing over to relief, and they both turned around to see his brother huddled on the floor from what couldn’t be described as anything other than a breakdown.

He felt Wei Ying’s comforting touch on his shoulder and arm, grounding him after bringing certain memories to the forefront of his mind again. Wei Ying was here.

Lan Wangji’s heart that he’d thought closed off to his brother, gave a twang of discomfort seeing his brother so broken, unable to gather his composure from the sobs rattling his frame. There were pleas interspacing the sounds escaping his lips, and he seemed unable to look at them.

It shouldn’t be a difficult decision. Lan Wangji remembered days during the sunshot campaign, where Lan Xichen had comforted him when Wei Ying had been missing, and later when he’d been distancing himself from everyone who’d tried to help him. This Lan Xichen had died the moment he’d given empty promises.

He could accept that his fast belief in his brother had been because they’d been close all their lives. The rules he’d upheld all his life cemented the belief in Lan Wangji, if his brother said someone would be safe if he brought them home, he could believe him speaking the truth. The hurt of having been wrong, of having lost everything in the span of a day, had him unwilling to go to Xichen now, who was the depiction of misery. Why should he be the only one broken about their shattered bond, he thought with vindication. Lan Wangji had once chosen to trust his brother in making the right decision, and he’d paid for his misplaced trust. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

There was a nudge, and he looked at Wei Ying who gave him a look, and a tilt of his head in Lan Xichen’s direction, coupled with pleading eyes. Lan Wangji really didn’t want to, but the mumbled ‘I’m sorry’s’ were difficult to ignore, his heart twinging in his chest at seeing his elder brother like this. As much as he wanted to hate Xichen, he still couldn’t. He was hurt and angry and feeling betrayed, plagued by the question, why? Why had he lied? Why had he trusted one of his sworn brothers more than Wangji?

Wangji didn’t falter in his steps, nor did he hurry to Lan Xichen’s side. He felt like he was having weights bound to his feet, approaching his brother. He saw tears rolling down the other’s face, half hidden by his dark hair and the way his head hung low, eyes glazed over as his lips moved to form the same words over and over.

Wangji reminded himself of the purpose of their actions. Their decision to show Xichen his memories of a no longer existing timeline had been necessary to leave no doubt of them speaking the truth on what was going to happen soon. Wei Ying was right, they were limited in what they could do alone, being back to their younger selves with knowledge and scars of the future. Having been confronted with his brother tonight, they knew it was time to get the elder Jade involved in their plans. At the moment they would be allies sharing a common enemy in Wen Ruohan.

He crouched down to his brother’s level, unsure on what to do. He’d never been a fan of much human contact, and he’d stopped clinging to his brother when he’d turned around six or seven. After their mother’s passing, he’d not wanted anyone to touch him, not even A-Huan.

It seemed the twin jades were still very much attuned to the other, because once Wangji was next to the elder, Xichen stopped the stream of apologies spilling out of him, still letting out stifled sobs and shaking a bit. He seemed fragile to Wangji like this, easily breakable. For a moment, Wangji regretted involving his older brother in this, the brother who’d worried for him because he couldn’t understand that the younger innocent version of his didi had ceased to exist the moment Wangji and Wuxian had arrived in this time.

Xichen’s body sagged against him as he was overcome with exhaustion and cried silent tears against Wangji’s side. Lan Wangji tensed, holding still as he fought against the urge to shove the other off of him. In the end, he didn’t, deciding to treat this Xichen with a cautious hope.

“Lan Zhan. What should we do?” Wei Ying whispered, so as to not startle the two brothers. Lan Wangji lifted his head, meeting Wei Ying's grey eyes. They flickered to Lan Xichen, giving the Lan a complicated look that held a mix of emotion, but not the anger he himself held towards his brother. Jiang Wanyin, he thought. Of course Wei Ying would be too forgiving, having been able to love his own brother who’d abandoned him for his clan, never judging Wangji should he decide to forgive Wei Ying’s killer. Forgiving Xichen seems unlikely to Wangji, but holding onto his anger was frankly exhausting. At least for now, he would extend a hand in reconciliation, not quite a sign of trust, but reach a point where he could feel less like a need to flee the room with Wei Ying whenever Lan Xichen was deemed too close.

“It is late.” He said. Wei Ying understood and made space for him to stand up.

He had to change his hold on his brother a few times before he managed it, holding the unconscious man in his arms to carry him to the bed. Xichen weighed more than Wei Ying, with his built closer to Wangji’s. If not for being blessed by the Lan arm strength, and being a cultivator with a strong golden core, Lan Wangji would have been far more winded by carrying his brother even half the stretch it took to reach the bed.

Wei Ying made a surprised half inquiring sound, but he helped tucking the bed covers around Xichen and fluffing the pillow a bit. They stood around the bed, indecisive.

“Ah, I think I’ll… clean up a bit.” Wei Ying said, wavering. He looked as lost as Wangji felt inside.

“Tell me if he wakes up or something, okay?”

Wei Ying left in search of clean cloth and water, to clean the spot on the floor. Lan Wangji felt uncomfortable standing around his brother's bedside and made himself useful by opening the window to let in fresh air. The air was cold and had him shivering in his thin under robes. He breathed it in and it helped him clear his head from the last vestiges of empathy coursing through him.

Wangji would have preferred to meditate, but he couldn’t relax with his brother knowing everything and in the same room. Wei Ying was a comforting presence, humming their song quietly while he stepped around the room in his own way of staying busy to ground his thoughts. Wei Ying was often restless, unable to sit down and meditate like Lan Wangji. He’d seen Wei Ying focused on his inventions and talismans, mind completely caught by the puzzle they presented. His active mind was not quieted by sitting in a meditative pose, though, needing other ways to reach a calm state.

Lan Wangji could feel the exhaustion from the day. Fighting the waterborne abyss, the use of empathy coupled with Lan Xichen confronting them and pressing for answers that Wangji had not entirely been willing to give despite agreeing to it – he wished for Wei Ying to hug him and breathe in his scent, have him kiss him and cuddle with him, and forget everything happening around them at least until tomorrow.

―

Morning arrived cold and unforgiving, making Xichen wish he could burrow his head under the blanket to escape the world for the burn of a joss stick longer. He didn't feel like standing up. He didn't feel like he'd slept at all. The memories of feeling himself fade haunted him and he closed his eyes against the onslaught as he shivered. His body had been unable to deal with the onslaught of memories, of the experience of dying, it had first gone into shock before he’d fainted in someone’s arms.

He hurried through dressing himself in a fresh, non-wrinkled set of outer robes from his qiankun pouch with his mind sifting through the information, wondering if he'd always been willfully blind.

Xichen left the room with hurried steps. He’d rent two rooms yesterday, and the second one was just next to the one he stepped out of now.

Before, he would have found no reason to hesitate and simply knocked, letting his brother know they were to return in a timely manner. Now, Xichen stared at the door and felt the passing of time as if it were a tangible thing. Should he knock, he wondered. After his breakdown yesterday, he couldn't say how his brother would regard him. Would he still see Xichen as the killer of his soulmate, unredeemable? Xichen couldn’t help feeling this way, even if he felt it was unfair to judge him for a decision he hadn’t made yet – and was afraid of making, knowing how it would cost him. He wished he knew the reasons his future self had for making these decisions, at the same time he didn’t because it scared him to face this future him who had stared blank faced the whole time Wangji had been hit by the discipline whip.

Was there any relief found in knowing he wouldn't know how it had felt to hold the string between his hands, and instead knowing of the pain his brother had experienced? Xichen had wanted to know why his brother had been the way he was upon his return. Had thought once he knew, he would be able to help. He could have never predicted himself being the cause for his brother's pain, after all, he had thought himself unable to inflict pain on Wangji like what he’d seen.

Xichen wished to forget this cruel future existed, wished to have his innocent baby brother back instead of a Wangji whose gaze rested heavily upon him, who seemed to hold himself back from bolting every time Xichen was too close to him now. Xichen was left wondering where he'd stopped listening to Wangji to come to such decisions in the end.

He turned on his heel, deciding to leave his brother and Wuxian alone. It was the least he could do. He would make excuses for Wangji to their uncle, and quietly slip away so they will no longer be bothered by his presence. If Wangji didn’t want to return now that his elder brother knew, Xichen had no idea what he himself would do. He wouldn’t take the choice from Wangji, cage him in Cloud Recesses. Wangji was free to go wherever he wished.

Lan Xichen didn't want to leave. They had offered him the truth, now he would need to hear what they had to say. If they blamed him. If they wanted him to seclude himself for his betrayal. Thinking about future Xichen’s actions left him hollow with no understanding how he’d reached that point to warrant betraying Wangji.

He was left with the bitter taste of no longer knowing his own self at all.

Of course right when he wished it the least, the door opened to reveal Wei Wuxian, his dark hair ruffled from sleep and looking half asleep himself. Both men froze upon seeing the other. Wuxian cleared his throat uncomfortably, and stepped a half step back. "Zewu-jun, come in!"

Lan Xichen didn't remember telling his feet to move, but found himself somehow joining his brother and Wuxian at the table where a tablet with breakfast and steaming tea had been served. He hadn't eaten himself yet.

His eyes fell once again to the seating arrangements. Xichen had taken the seat across from Wangji who sat next to Wuxian, both cultivators close enough to have shufu spitting blood at the impropriety of it. Xichen didn't comment, knowing exactly how much Wangji cared for propriety at the moment. As much heartbreak and tragedy had come from that future, he was glad his didi had found his fated person in someone as bright as Wei Wuxian.

It took some time to start the conversation, in which Xichen nervously ate some, Wangji doing his best to create the illusion of being made of ice to hide how much Xichen's presence at the table unsettled him. It was Wuxian who broke the silence, knowing both Lan brothers wouldn’t be the ones to start speaking for different reasons.

"We should add to the existing wards at Cloud Recesses. I got some ideas on how to make sure it's fireproof and able to hold against attacks the Wen might try."

Seeing a chance to escape the glare his brother sent him, he turned to look at Wei Wuxian, "That would be a good idea. From what I gathered, we were all horribly prepared. None of us wanted to believe in a war with the Wen sect before. We would rather hold on to the illusion of peace."

He sighed, knowing from his friend Mingjue how true this was, especially smaller sects who would be squashed beneath Wen Ruohan's booths if he believed them to rebel against the chief cultivator. Nie Mingjue’s father had died not that long ago from a case of qi deviation, and the border between Qishan and Quinghe was hard fought for in skirmishes between the two sects.

"It's not bad to believe the situation could be resolved peacefully." Wei Wuxian said.

Xichen sighed into his congee at the attempt Wuxian made to excuse his inaction. He'd stayed blind to a lot of things hadn't he?

“Seeing what is about to happen, Wen Ruohan won’t stop anytime soon to further grasp power in the cultivation world. A war seems inevitable at this point.”

The silence greeting him seemed enough confirmation to him, he thought grimly. He ate another spoonful of congee. Across from him, pale golden eyes were ignoring him in favour of the bland food. He saw Wuxian add frightening amounts of chili oil to his bowl. Wangji was using his chopsticks to add more grilled vegetables to Wuxian’s bowl, his movements speaking of having done this out of habit, and the other cultivator’s lack of surprise also telling.

“So, I was thinking…” Wuxian began, continuing on their topic.

Despite the atmosphere staying frigid around the brothers, interspersed with the different emotions everyone around the table felt towards each other that made for an uncomfortable breakfast, plans were made on how to fortify Cloud Recesses.

Chapter 13: of approaching thunder and gentle lightning

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII

After revealing the existence of a now lost future to Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji returned to the Cloud Recesses. Classes would be cancelled until shufu returned from the discussion conference at Qinghe, the reason they’d chosen to act on dealing with the waterborne abyss now because it had been not that long afterwards when him and brother had gone to Caiyi following the notice of water ghouls in the old timeline. This change would shift the timeline, but not by much, creating only small ripples.

If their changes led to small ripples, then Jiang Wanyin was like a pebble thrown into the pond, bristling in anger as he approached his brother at the entry gate like he’d waited for his chance to ambush them.

“Jiang Cheng, what are you doing here?”

Now, Lan Wangji was aware of the way Wei Wuxian loved his siblings. He couldn’t think of ever speaking to Lan Xichen the way Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin did, bickering and making playful jabs, with an elbow nudging the other in the side or a playful shove that wasn’t meant to hurt but was much more physical than Lan Wangji was comfortable with doing with his own brother, even before everything.

Jiang Wanyin was a selfish person, wanting to have his brother at his side while equally resenting him for being better than him. He hadn’t been able to take in the Wen remnants until Wei Ying had literally begged him to, with the assurance from the Lans to support this decision against the other sects. It wasn’t a decision made out of the good of his heart, like Wei Ying who hadn’t hesitated to throw away his comfortable life in Yunmeng for saving innocents. Maybe his view was biased, but Lan Wangji couldn’t understand how Jiang Wanyin left his brother behind that day he visited the Burial Mounds, breaking all ties to him.

So, there wasn’t any love lost between him and the Jiang heir, standing outside Cloud Recesses now.

“Where have you been?” Jiang Wanyin asks, ignoring the question directed at him. His arms were crossed over his chest. His eyes were on Wei Wuxian and he was ignoring Lan Wangji entirely.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng. Do I have to tell you every time I go somewhere with my friends?”

“I still don’t believe you, when you say you made friends with Lan Wangji.” He said it like it was absurd. Wei Wuxian of course would think it an invitation to prove his brother wrong. He slung an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders, bringing them closer together. The Lan didn’t mind the contact, staring Jiang Wanyin dead in the eye who made an expression similar to a dead fish. It was very satisfying to see.

They didn’t need to wait long for a reaction either.

“Wei Wuxian! Unhand Lan-er-gongzi right now! You absulute shameless-!!”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Lan Wangji calmly interjecting, “I don’t mind. Wei Ying is my friend.”

Jiang Wanyin’s reaction to that was becoming suddenly speechless, staring from one to the other like he’d suddenly entered a parallel dimension where his world view didn’t fit anymore.

“Don’t be mad Jiang Cheng. I really just want to spent some time with Lan Zhan, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you!”
Wei Ying’s words brought the conversation back on topic, Jiang Wanyin looking away from the pair to scoff. “Really? I haven’t seen as much as a hair of you in days! You even made us- you made A-Jie worry by not showing up to see her.”

The mentioning of Jiang Yanli had Wei Wuxian grow serious. “Ah, I didn’t mean to.” He said apologetic, rubbing the side of his nose, gaze turned downwards. Seeing his brother at least showing some regret, Jiang Wanyin’s stiff pose changed a little, shoulders loosening and softening his tone as he said, “Well, you could at least accompany me today. She’s making soup so you better not miss showing up again!”

Lan Wangji couldn’t detect a difference in tone from earlier, but he saw it the way Wei Ying reacted to the words. He was back to teasing his brother, a familiar back and forth between them that spoke of their relationship of having grown up together. Wei Ying agreed at the promise of soup, his arm falling away from Lan Wangji’s shoulders to hold his hand. Lan Wangji allowed the contact, staring at Jiang Wanyin and daring him to comment on it. The Jiang heir wisely decided on holding his opinion to himself.

—

Jiang Yanli was truly a gentle soul, Lan Wangji thought upon her interactions with her brothers who looked upon her as a maternal figure in their lives. Due to her weak cultivation she was often times overlooked, her other strengths easily overlooked.
The gleam in her eyes was reminiscent of her mother though as she brought her bickering brothers to heel with a firm but gentle reprimand to behave in front of their guest. Lan Wangji who was holding Wei Ying’s hand still, didn’t like the sudden attention this got him from Jiang Wanyin.
With her acknowledging him as a guest, he did a respectful bow made awkward by the fact that We Ying held onto him the whole time and told him not to be so stiff since ‘this was his shijie, Lan Zhan’. Lan Wangji could feel his ears burn at her delighted laugh at her brother.

“A-Xian stop teasing the poor boy! It’s alright Lan-er-gongzi, I can easily get another bowl for you. I wasn’t sure if I should expect A-Xian today, so there’s enough soup for everyone. Let’s eat, before it gets cold.”

It would be rude to decline the offer, but he remembered the alarming red shade of Wei Ying’s food and couldn’t help the mental shudder at being subjected to spicy cuisine that would fry his taste buds. Maybe he wasn’t able to entirely hide the horror from his face, because Lady Jiang told him not to worry, “Not everyone has the same spice tolerance as our A-Xian.”
Wei Ying turned to him with a betrayed face at that. “But you told me you liked spicy food! Lan Zhan! Don’t tell me you just ate everything I gave you, because you didn’t want to offend me?”

“It wasn’t bad,” he answered, uncomfortable at being found out. They’d been staying at an inn with a hunan cuisine restaurant not far from it. Wei Ying had taken them there so he could get a taste of what Yunmeng cuisine would be like, as Wei Ying had put it. Lan Zhan had been too weak to decline and suffered silently through the burning in his mouth all evening.

“Maybe less spice,” he offered. It wasn’t a lie, he had liked some of the dishes with less chili in it. He’d also liked it that Wei Ying would share this aspect of his life with him.

Wei Wuxian made a noise of defeat and buried his head in Lan Wangji’s sleeve. “You could have said something sooner! To think I thought you liked spicy food, and I was going to bring you to a place I know about with hunan dishes in Caiyi. Would you have suffered just to make me happy?”

“I would. It’s not suffering if Wei Ying is happy.”

Wei Ying’s screech was muffled by the fabric of the Lan cultivator’s robes. “Lan Zhan!”

—

They return to the jingshi with a sleepy Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian still feeling warm in his heart despite the embarrassment of having his shijie grill him on how he became such close friends with Lan Zhan who fully joined in on the teasing until Wei Ying’s face burned from having their positions reversed. If this was how Lan Zhan normally felt when Wei Wuxian was teasing him, he needed to lay it off a bit! Wei Ying had felt like his face would melt under the onslaught for a moment.

The last time he’d seen his sister had been her wearing her wedding dress, the splendid reds and golds standing out against the dusty courtyard of an abandoned building in Yiling. She’d looked displaced in them, making him aware that she belonged in Koi Tower and not here where even one of her earrings would mean surviving by another month. There hadn’t been another chance to see her before the 100 day celebration arrived. He wondered if she would have blamed him for Jin Zixuan’s death. Would she have asked him of his retelling of the story, or would she have believed in what the surviving Jin cultivators told at Koi Tower? That the Yiling Patriarch had gone mad, had killed the Jin sect heir in cold blood.

He would never know. He would make sure that Jin Zixuan lived this time. Jin Ling wouldn’t grow up without his father. If everything went well, Wei Wuxian would also get to see her wed.

Lan Zhan was half-asleep by now, approaching hai shi, his inner clock at work. Wei Ying chuckled at the sight of his drooping eyes. It was very cute, he thought, but the other cultivator was also quite heavy this way as he leaned into Wei Wuxian.

He lowered him down to sit on his bed, before he could fall asleep on his feet. Together, they managed to get off Lan Zhan’s shoes and his head pieces, as well as stripping down from his six layers to just his undershirt and pants.

Wei Wuxian mirrored him, so he too was left in his thin underclothes. The light coming through the window hit at an angle that accentuated the younger Jade’s beauty, having his eyes glow and his hair falling around his face in cascading strands of a rich black.

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, braced on one leg on the mattress, the other standing on his toes on the floor, his left hand on Lan Zhan’s shoulder while he held the other’s jaw with his right hand to turn it better towards him as he sealed their lips together.

The kiss was light, a press of lips against lips. He felt Lan Zhan’s hitch in his breath, felt him open up to it and allowing Wei Ying in. It got hot very fast, when Lan Zhan took a more active role in the kiss, drawing Wei Ying nearer with an arm around his waist. Wei Wuxian fell against his chest as he lost his balance. He let out a breathless laugh. The kissing was affecting them both physically, but Wei Ying was content to leave it at kissing. Lan Zhan seemed very tired, meeting him for another kiss, but it was lethargic in motion, and Wei Ying moved away to get a better look at him. Golden eyes were slow to gaze up at him. His lips glazed with saliva and formed a pout.

Wei Ying sighed. Despite what their lower halves obviously wanted, they weren’t exactly up for it.

He moved off of Lan Zhan’s lap, settling in at his partner’s side. Lan Zhan laid down next to him, Wei Wuxian shuffling close to lay his head down on Lan Zhan’s chest where he could listen to his heart beating rhythmically.

This way, sleep came easily to him.

Chapter 14: wading through clouds

Chapter Text

Chapter XIV

The next morning, Wei Wuxian was woken by the sniffling happening behind him. He blinked his eyes open, still bleary from sleep. His body demanded he go back to sleep, feeling warm and safe in the arms holding him against a firm chest. He was surrounded by the scent of sandalwood – a scent he associated with Lan Zhan. The chest he was lying against shook and he opened his eyes again, awake now.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, turning around to look at the other who had the expression of a grumpy kitten. Lan Zhan tried and failed to suppress another cough, the way it rattled through the cultivator’s body felt by Wei Wuxian leaning against him. He stared at Lan Wangji who looked like his own body had betrayed him, his eyes hazed over from more than just sleep.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow at the suppressed cough following that statement. He hadn’t missed anything, had he? Just yesterday, Lan Zhan had seemed perfectly fine, maybe a bit tired. He looked closely at Lan Zhan now, noticing the pale skin and the light flush to it. He was evading Wei Wuxian's inquiring gaze, looking at a point over Wei Wuxian's shoulder.

“Seems to me even the great hanguang-jun isn’t immune to sickness,” he murmured, affectionately stroking Lan Zhan's cheek, checking for signs of fever and to his relief finding none. He wasn’t a healer, but he’d lived with Wen Qing and her brother long enough to have picked up a lot along the way. He’d also read through her entire library of medical texts once in search for a way to repair a golden core.

“I feel fine,” Lan Zhan said, taking the other's hand in his, bestowing kisses on his knuckles. He detangled their limbs, moving to stand up. Wei Ying followed him, the blanket previously covering them both falling away.

His gaze focused on the way Lan Zhan would seem fine to those who didn’t know how to read the man. He could see how Lan Zhan was slower than usual in moving around doing his morning routine. How he paused in his steps to catch his breath through his clogged up airways. He let out a sigh at Lan Zhan’s stubbornness.

If this was what Wen Qing had to deal with every time Wei Wuxian had protested ordered bed rest, he could understand her urge to knock him unconscious with her needles sometimes.

—

Lan Zhan refused to see a healer for his cough. Wei Wuxian had to sneak into the healer's storage to get a herbal mixture for him, which had Lan Zhan frown at him and visit the healer the next day. They only told them what they already knew and gave Lan Zhan the same pouch of herbs to mix into his tea.

It was during this week that Wei Wuxian remembered the rabbits he'd gifted his soulmate during their first life.

He grinned, following the pathway to the bit of forest he'd been in last time around. It was half a shichen before he spotted movement and soon a black ball of fluff appeared to nibble at the green grass sprouting from the ground. The rabbit wasn't alone, its partner hopping out into sight of the hidden cultivator after it. Wei Ying watched them, feeling nostalgic. Last time it had been more of a prank, wanting to see how Lan Zhan would react. Maybe it had been his unacknowledged feeling leading him to do this back then too. Well, now he would make sure that Lan Zhan knew his intentions. No more misunderstandings between them, he swore himself.

—

“You’ve been unusually quiet, Xichen. Is something the matter?”

Lan Xichen stared into his cup of tea and wished to drown in it. He’d been busy with sect matters during uncle’s absence, but that too had only lasted so long until he’d been done and left with his thoughts.

His mind felt frayed at the edges, reports of missing cultivators reaching him and having him think of the unrest in the cultivation world that would soon blow up into a war. He’d already started instructing disciples in fortifying Cloud Recesses’ borders, subtly adjusting the wards to hold off fire. His days had been filled with different tasks that left him sink exhausted into his bed, driven with the need not to think about the scars he’d seen on Wangji’s back, or the resignation in Wuxian of being judged as evil incarnate once again after he knew of his use of resentful energies. Xichen admitted to being uncomfortable with it, having seen the devastation Wuxian had laid to the battlefield, but he understood that Wuxian hadn't had another choice and wasn't a power hungry man by nature. He was a man driven by his love for his family, by all rights a genius in cultivation theory, and slandered by jianghu when he was no longer a useful tool but a wildcard. A loose end.

He stared silently into his cup and wished not for the first time, that he could somehow absolve himself of this guilt he felt, this complete shame at his future self, anger and helplessness because he didn’t fully know the reason for things to happen this way. And he wondered if it mattered when it came to his decision to execute a man and punish the other. If he shouldn’t just stop wondering what had driven him to such drastic decisions. He shuddered at the idea of understanding his future self, after having seen the detachedness with which Xichen had wound the string around Wuxian’s neck. No, he didn’t want to understand, didn’t want to become that version of himself.

Xichen steeled himself, spine straight and his thoughts packed neatly away, before he answered his uncle with a shake of the head and a genial smile. “The last days have been busy, nothing a bit of sleep will solve.” Unlike his relationship with Wangji, which he feared was never going to be the same again. Wangji had had unconditional trust in him, since their parents had both been absent from their lives – mother because she’d been secluded in the gentian house, and father of his own volition. Xichen had visited father as the sect heir, polite meetings that didn’t feel like a father meeting his son. Their parents had died one after the other, when Wangji had been six and then twelve. Xichen had been more of a parental role next to uncle than their father ever was. It wasn't their uncle's fault. The man was first and foremost a scholar, having taught generations of the cultivation world, while simultanously doing his best to raise the nephews that weren't his obligation to raise. Anyone in the clan could have stepped into his place, but shufu had taken on the responsibility.

As kids, Wangji had had the habit of hiding anything that bothered him from their uncle, preferring to come to his elder brother with his worries. These occurrences had lessened the older they got. As the older one, he'd been patient with Wangji when he noticed that the younger was bothered by something. And Wangji would confide in him after a while, because he knew his older brother would have an open ear for him. Xichen had never known how much he saw Wangji’s trust in him as something that simply was, until Wangji had retreated, becoming wary, suspicious. The change had left him unbalanced, off kilter. And now he wished fervently to have this trust in him back. For Wangji to not move further away than he already was.

Uncle set down his tea. He laid his hands on his knees. “I heard there was an infestation of water ghouls. You must have been busy with that."

“The water ghouls have been dealt with by Wangji and one of the guest disciples.” He said, deciding not to make uncle aware of what Wangji had told him. He had promised not to speak of the time travel, and he would be careful not to break any promises to his didi.

Uncle hummed approvingly. Then he sighed. "I admit I've been worried about Wangji. We still don't know where he's been for the week he's been gone. And then he reappears and behaves unlike himself, treating his family like strangers! Xichen, have you spoken to him? Has he confided to you?"

Xichen looked at his uncle, but the words from his lips were not that Wangji had lived through a future where family had betrayed him. Instead he said, "Wangji knows he can come to us with his problems. We are his family after all."

The lie tasted like ash in his mouth.

—

Wei Wuxian was happily humming to himself when he returned to the jingshi. Lan Zhan could be persuaded to rest a bit since classes would resume tomorrow. The two fluffballs wiggled in his arms where he'd hidden them with the wide sleeves of the guest disciple uniform. His attention was on holding the rabbits calm so they wouldn't be noticed – pets weren't allowed after all. Not that it had stopped Lan Zhan, he thought.

He didn't see the other disciple walking his way until they collided, the disciple letting out some expletives before they looked at Wei Wuxian, shouting, "You!"

It was none other than Jin Zixuan. Wei Wuxian had stayed out of the young Jin heir's way this time, knowing that he would eventually get his head out of his ass and become a decent person. And he would make shijie happy and that was all Wei Wuxian wanted for her. Wei Wuxian would never forgive himself for what happened, his loss of control over Wen Ning ending in the murder of Jin Zixuan.

"Me," he said mildly, confused what the Jin's problem was with him since Wei Wuxian had done nothing this time other than being unobtrusive during class and staying glued to Lan Wangji's side.

Jin Zixuan floundered, Wei Wuxian's calm reaction taking the wind out of his sails and leaving him with none of his teenage confidence that he'd felt moments before. His eyes fell on the wiggling balls of fur in Wei Wuxian's hold. The white one had its head peaking out over the boy's robed arms.

"Oh, these? They're a gift for Lan Zhan! He's been a bit under the weather, so I thought they'd cheer him up. Aren't they cute?"

Jin Zixuan didn't seem to know what to say to that, looking dubiously between the rabbits and the smiling Wei Wuxian. In the end he decided to leave with a dramatic sweep of his robes, not unlike a peaco*ck ruffling its feathers.

Wei Wuxian snorted, looking at the pair of fluff in his arms. "Let's get you to Lan Zhan. You'll love him, he's the best! He may look serious, but inside he is all soft…"

Chapter 15: marriage proposals, rabbits obligatory

Chapter Text

Chapter XV

"I'm going to marry Wei Ying."

Their uncle choked on his tea. Lan Xichen who was seated next to him watched as Lan Qiren coughed from inhaling the liquid in shock and having it go down the wrong way. Lan Qiren then looked at his nephew, holding an expression of thunder. His eyes glanced at Wei Wuxian who'd followed Wangji and stood as unobtrusive as he could be close to Lan Wangji.

The statement – for it wasn't asking for permission from Wangji, but him stating his intentions of marrying Wuxian – was met with uncle glaring at the Yunmeng head disciple like it was entirely his fault that Wangji behaved this way. Xichen saw Wangji’s expression darken at their uncle's judging look.

"If this is your idea of a prank, Wei Wuxian, that you've somehow convinced Wangji to participate in," the elder Lan started, slowly.

Lan Xichen knew from the set of memories he held now, Wangji didn’t take his beloved being slandered lightly. With his eyes opened to the whole situation he could see the way his didi merely did them the courtesy of informing them of his decision.it was his way of reaching out to them, the family who betrayed him. Wangji was angry at them, and he didn't feel the trust to leave Wei wuxian alone with them. But he held a spark of hope, to reconnect with them and have them accept Wuxian as his spouse. Uncle didn't make it easy, the unknown of the circ*mstances and seeing only his teenage nephew making a rash decision like their father.

Lan Wangji startled them all by wrapping his forehead ribbon around Wuxian's wrist, holding his hand and repeating his earlier words.

"I'm marrying Wei Ying. No one else."

Uncle looked like he would qi deviate on the spot. "Wangji! Have you thought about what you're saying?"

Lan Xichen saw his brother's expression darkened further and decided to intervene before Wangji decided to secede from the sect. It was sadly a likely outcome and one Xichen hoped Wangji wouldn't ever decide on. "The wedding doesn't need to take place tomorrow uncle," he took over to diffuse the tension, with some measure of success. He briefly closed his eyes at having Wangji only become even more tense from his words, quickly continuing before he could become misunderstood. He didn't wish to prevent his brother from marrying Wuxian. "They may be young, but when has Wangji not taken such things seriously? And young master Wei seems to me an upstanding person. Surely, an alliance between Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan would be a good thing, one shufu can agree on? They'll have time to get to know each other" Xichen wasn't sure how intimate they were with each other, but he knew from reliable sources that Wuxian hadn't slept in his bed in the guest disciple dorms his wole stay at Cloud Recesses. And as Wangji's brother, he really didn't want to know "If Wangji believes to have met his fated one, shouldn't we accept his decision?"

Uncle seemed to consider Xichen's words, while Xichen knew the two would not be changed on this. Whatever uncle said, Wangji would not budge. Lan Xichen felt troubled to see his family at odds over such a matter that should be not a matter at all. Lans loved deeply and fell in love only once, it was said. The truth was… a bit more complicated than that. It still was the reason why not many political matches were made between the other clans and one of the Lan bloodline.

"An alliance between Gusu and Yunmeng would be beneficial." Lan Qiren conceded, stroking his beard. He gave Wei Wuxian a look. "You will follow the rules."

Lan Wangji intervened, "Wei Ying is free to do as he pleases."

"Wangji!"

Lan Wangi stood firm on this, though. "He will not be caged."

Xichen gasped softly while uncle seemed speechless for a moment. He answered, voice lowered and conveying a seriousness it hadn't before, "You are not your father, Wangji. Wei Wuxian won't become your mother."

The look in Wangji’s eyes promised that he would upend the heavens if not.

In the end, their uncle gave his albeit grudgingly consent to the couple, and Xichen could send off a formal request to Jiang Fegmian with Lan Qiren’s blessing of the union, should Jiang-zongzhu agree to it. Xichen was sure he would though. Their standing alliance through Jiang-gunian’s engagement to Jin Zixuan, they – read, Yu-furen – wouldn’t pass up a chance to further ally themselves with another great clan.

—

Wei Wuxian felt like he could breathe again, the moment teacher Lan’s glaring eyes were no longer on him making him feel like he would be sat aflame. The atmosphere between the Lans had been frigid, he thought.

“Lan Zhan,” he asked, “what happened to your mother?”

Lan Wangji seemed unwilling to speak of it here, taking him to the backhills where they would be alone. Wei Wuxian hoped he hadn’t overstepped somehow with his question. It wasn’t like Lan Zhan didn’t know everything about Wei Ying’s parents leaving and dying on a night hunt. He’d even spoken of his fear of dogs, how he’d no other choice than fighting them for scraps during his time on the streets.

Lan Zhan had always been more tightlipped about personal things, so all Wei Ying knew was his monthly visits as a child to his mother which he’d cherished. They’d stopped upon her death when he’d been six.

The backhills were populated by the two rabbits he’d given the Lan. They had quickly taken to him, hopping up to him now in complete trust. Wei Ying laughed as Lan Zhan carefully sat down and let them sniff at his clothes and his hands. They soon lost interest, since Lan Zhan had no greens with him.

.

Returning to the jingshi, Lan Zhan had been deeply asleep, his soft breathing the only sound greeting him and his burden. Wei Ying hadn't had the heart to wake him. He had made sure the rabbits couldn't escape or hop anywhere near sharp objects that would be able to hurt them accidentally, before seating himself at the table and getting out his assignments now that classes resumed. He sighed at that. He'd loved the opportunity to learn in his teenage years at

Cloud Recesses, but too much was focused on rules and etiquette in his opinion.

He spent the next quarter of a shichen on his assignments, finishing them, before he took another sheet of paper and started gnawing at the brush in thought. He wasn't sure what to do now despite what they'd told zewu-jun. Their plans were based on circ*mstances that needed to happen for them to work, and he didn't want to change too much before he couldn't make sure to have his shijie and Jiang Cheng and his shidis and shimeis in Lotus Pier safe.

He turned his head, looking at the bed where he'd heard a scratching sound coming from. He huffed a quiet laugh, briefly reminded of the time when his voice refused to work, seeing the two rabbits cuddled up to the obvious cultivator slumbering on. It was such a cute sight. He grinned, hit with a sudden idea. For the next shichen nothing could be heard from the jingshi safe for the rustling of paper and the grinding of ink or the slide of a brush against paper, heavy with ink.

.

Wei Ying took one of the rabbits into his arms, the rabbit wiggling the whole time until he sat it on Lan Zhan’s lap. Golden eyes shot him a look but Lan Zhan petted the rabbit and his shoulders lost all the tenseness Wei Ying had noticed during their talk to Lan Qiren.

Wei Ying settled down on the grass, waiting. With Lan Zhan, you needed patience for him to open up.

“Mother...killed father’s teacher. I don’t know why she did it. Father married her to protect her, and she was imprisoned here, in a house with gentians. I was only allowed to see her once a month.” That last part, Wei Wuxian knew. It saddened him to hear the pain in Lan Zhan’s voice now, knowing the other cultivator had never meant him to be a prisoner like his mother.

“She hadn’t ever been happy, I think.” Lan Zhan said, sorrowful.

Wei Wuxian patted the black rabbit who’d been nibbling at the grass near his legs. He shook his head then, “I was so stupid back then Lan Zhan… I thought when you asked me to come to Gusu, that all you saw was a demonic cultivator. Taking me to Gusu to imprison me.”

He wanted to laugh at himself. He’d truly been blind, hadn’t he?

“Mmh.”

“See,” he said to the rabbit, “hanguang-jun agrees!”

They stayed for some time, until it was time for the evening meal.

—

Lan Zhan had woken up feeling well rested and no longer congested. He had come face to face with dark eyes watching him, black fur surrounding a small face with a twitching nose and whiskers. He blinked sleep from his eyes, sensing the comforting presence of Wei Ying nearby.

He cast a questioning look at the other who was relaxed sitting with ink smudges on his fingers and face, eyes sparkling like they only did when he was truly happy and at ease. Lan Wangji wanted Wei Ying to wear this look everyday. 'Let this be everyday, let me become your everyday' he thought, wishing to frame this moment and hang it up like a picture to gaze upon a year from now to remember this by.

Taking the rabbit in his arms to move it slightly to the side he sat up and discovered another one sniffing his robes. He realized they were….

"You remembered." It escaped him involuntarily while he stared at the pair of rabbits, identical to those Wei Ying had gifted him in his teenage years. Right when he thought the depth of his feelings were known to him, Wei Ying proved to him he could fall ever deeper in love.

"Of course I did! My memory is bad, but I wouldn't forget something as important as this to you."

There was something lodged in his chest, as he gently stroked the rabbit's fur. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards.

"Wei Ying," he looked at Wei Ying who seemed a bit breathless at the sight of his smile. "Thank you."

The other man hid his face behind his hair, face red as he sputtered, embarrassed. His voice came out muffled behind his hands. He still had his brush smudging more ink on his face, but Wei Ying didn't notice.

"Whatsthis?! I just thought you would like them back! Really Lan Zhan, you have to warn me when you're going to be this nice, smiling and all! This poor man's heart can't take it,do you want me to die?"

There was sound coming out his mouth… It was laughter. Lan Zhan felt it bubble up in his chest and spring from his mouth, shocking his companion as he laughed softly, feeling happy and content with his rabbits and his soulmate in the jingshi.

Chapter 16: finding home in you

Chapter Text

Chapter XVI

Despite the slowly mounting tension between the Wen sect and the major sects for the Wen’s restrictions on night hunts these days following only weeks after Wen Ruohan made his intentions to stand above the rest of the cultivation world clear, life in Cloud Recesses continued at a leisurely pace. Wei Wuxian didn’t evade his siblings this time, when Jiang Cheng came at him with aggravation about the news that Wei Wuxian was to be engaged to the second jade. While Jiang Yanli had smiled knowingly at him, his shidi had been completely floored at first. Which had in turn translated to anger over the situation. Wei Wuxian knew he would never leave Lan Zhan, not even if it was Jiang Cheng who asked him to. His shidi would probably be angry with him, maybe he would hate him and never speak to Wei Wuxian again. There couldn’t be any doubt left in Jiang Cheng’s mind, Wei Wuxian was serious, so his voice was firm when he told Jiang Cheng, “You don’t have to like Lan Zhan. You don’t have to understand why I like him either, but I love him. I’m in love with him.”

It shut the other boy up. Jiang Cheng’s whole countenance changed, a new undecipherable look appearing in his eyes. “You’re completely serious.”

“Yes.”

“I guess a-Die is gonna come here to talk to Lan-zongzhu.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to be comforting, seeing the way Jiang Cheng was taking this as him leaving him behind again.

“I’ll always be your brother if you want me to be,” he had been A-Cheng’s shixiong, and he thought of him as his little brother, in a way. A very annoying didi sometimes. They’d grown up together, played in the lotus lakes, trained and fought together, and Wei Wuxian was unwilling to lose this bond they’d forged over the years a second time. “Even if I won’t be there to annoy you every day, I can visit you and shijie.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, “You’re just going to forget and then I’ll have to come all the way here!”

“Shijie and I have to find someone for you now,” Wei Wuxian mused. It had the intended effect of Jiang Cheng becoming flustered at the thought of his own love life – or lack thereof. Not that Wei Wuxian knew if he’d found someone while he himself had been farming in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t all that happy at Wei Wuxian bringing up how he’d been blacklisted by match makers the last time he’d been set up with the daughter of another sect leader, but the atmosphere stayed light now that he’d been able to reassure Jiang Cheng he wasn’t going to abandon him. Wei Wuxian knew Jiang Cheng was going to stay cross with him for a while still, having expected Wei Wuxian to stay as his second hand forever, but Wei Wuxian had realized this wasn’t a promise he would be able to keep. Not in this life and not in his first, and it had been unfair to expect that of him.

—

By the time the lectures ended, Jiang Fengmian had negotiated the stipulations of Wei Wuxian’s marriage to Lan Wangji, which would also ensure an alliance between Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang. Maybe Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have been surprised to wake up that morning to see their things packed neatly into bags, but he’d honestly forgotten completely about what the end of the guest lectures meant. Lotus Pier hadn’t felt like his home ever since he’d come out of the Burial Mounds changed in ways that his siblings hadn’t been able to understand completely, partly because he hadn’t wanted them to see.

They ate a comfortable breakfast in the jingshi, before someone knocked at the door. Lan Zhan ate the last of his congee, before he laid his utensils down and stood in a fluid sweep of his robes. Wei Wuxian watched him open the door, revealing the elder jade standing with uncertainty as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome.

Lan Xichen had avoided the two time travellers after their talk at the inn in Caiyi town at first, slowly implementing the suggestions from Wei Wuxian on strengthening the Cloud Recesses’ defenses, and not speaking of Wei Wuxian’s continued stay in his brother’s house. Lan Zhan had admitted to his own conflicting feelings about his brother, after Lan Xichen had taken their side against his uncle, seeing the brother who’d encouraged him to befriend Wei Wuxian at the same time as he recalled the brother who’d condemned the Yiling Patriarch.

Lan Zhan didn’t say anything, waiting for Lan Xichen to state his reason to appear at his doorstep the day they would depart to Yunmeng.

Xichen’s gaze flickered over Lan Zhan’s shoulder to Wei Wuxian, before averting his gaze to not quite look Lan Zhan in the eyes. “I see you’ve finished eating already,” it wasn’t quite a sigh of disappointment, but whatever Lan’s did instead, it would be the expression Lan Xichen wore now. The way Wei Wuxian was able to read the kind of bitter disappointment in the lines of his body for having missed his last opportunity to reconnect with his younger brother, before he would be gone for months.

“Mmh,”

“Can I come in?”

“Wei Wuxian couldn’t see Lan Zhan’s expression from here, but Lan Zhan after a moment of hesitation, stepped aside to make his answer clear. Lan Xichen gave a small smile, entering the jingshi and closing the door behind him. He stopped a few steps in. Lan Wangji didn’t sit back down, or pour tea in an offer for him to join them at the table.

“I see you’ve packed everything?”

“Yeah, Lan Zhan is really great at remembering to pack everything and having it all fit into our bags!” Wei Wuxian replied.

“Then there’s really no reason for me to overstay my welcome. Wangji…”

“Lan-zongzhu.”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes as if in pain. “Wangji, I know you can protect yourself. Still, I wish you and master Wei to stay safe, knowing what is going to happen in the future.”

The glacial look in Lan Zhan’s golden eyes softened a bit, “You shall not need to worry.”

The elder jade looked like he wanted to reply with something, but he obviously rethought on voicing it and instead sent them off with a polite farewell before he left the jingshi.

Not long afterwards, they met with his shijie and shidi, with Wei Wuxian back in his black robes next to the light blue and white robes his soulmate wore for their trip. Lan zhan looked absolutely stunning in white, but the light blue were certainly a favourite colour of Wei Wuxian’s now too.

Jiang Cheng gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement to Lan Zhan, while uncle Jiang’s greeting was by far warmer, but also unerringly polite between a clan leader greeting the heir of another sect betrothed to his head disciple.

They walked down the mountain to Caiyi town, where their boat was waiting to take them to Lotus Pier. Being back to being surrounded by the other disciples of his sect, uncle Jiang leading the group, Wei Wuxian felt suddenly nervous as he realized he would be able to return to his childhood home, the one he’d thought lost forever after the Wens had burned it to the ground. He gripped Lan Zhan’s sleeve to not start sobbing in the middle of the street, because his mind seemed frozen, repeatedly on the thought that he was going home.

The concept of home, he thought with a look at Lan Zhan, had become a very complicated concept to him. Whenever he was with Lan Zhan, he felt at ease, like he was wanted and loved. Lotus Pier held a lot of fond memories, but he’d felt tolerated there, more than the unconditional love he had experienced since being given a second chance in the past. He wouldn’t stop thinking of Lotus Pier as his first home, but maybe.

Maybe he could have more than one place to call home now.

Chapter 17: Nie Mingjue listens

Chapter Text

Chapter XVII | Interlude – Nie Mingjue

Lan Xichen didn’t watch Wangji leave. All their lives they hadn’t been separated for longer than a night hunt. Wangji leaving for Yunmeng left him bereft, a hole deep in his chest where he could feel his heart beating against his ribcage like a bird whose wings were clipped, unable to fly after its nest mates.

His short visit to Wangji this morning had him feeling inadequate, not enough, he wanted to be able to apologize all over again and everything threatened to overwhelm him if he allowed himself to pause and think. To fall into the darkness of his own mind, to wallow in the pain he deserved for causing his brother’s pain.

To shut himself off, to go into seclusion out of shame for failing his family.

It was two weeks after Wangji’s departure, spent slowly spiralling towards somewhere he wasn’t sure, but it seemed inevitable that he would break once he made impact with the ground, his freefall stopped only by Nie Mingjue knocking on his door.

The man looked shocked upon seeing him, taking in the pale skin and black bags beneath Xichen’s eyes from lack of sleep, the weariness in his amber gaze. There was a worn look to his friend, Mingjue was shocked to see. Like a frayed thread that was just a hair’s breadth away from snapping.

It was Xichen who blinked, startled. His brow furrowed, “Mingjue. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Nevertheless, he invited the man to come in, falling back onto the motions of a good host by pouring them tea. His eyes fell back to his friend who considered him closely.

“I can see what Huisang meant,” Nie Mingjue said.

Startled by the words, Xichen’s head shot up to his friend. His mouth opened slightly, a sound escaping his lips.

“He told me you had a fight with Wangji. You. A fight. With your brother.” Mingjue sounded like he couldn’t believe this ever happened to the even-tempered and composed twin jade. His own flaring temper led to continuous disagreements between him and his own younger brother, mainly because Huisang thought it acceptable to miss saber practice yet again. But Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji had seemed like they were carved from the same stone, different in character but always in sync, twin pieces of jade.

The look in Xichen’s eyes, so lost, the exhaustion in his friend’s whole demeanor had him put down his tea without tasting it.

“You could have simply written. I know you’re busy with sect business as much as I am. And I have shufu helping me.”

Mingjue snorted, “My sect won’t fall into chaos when I’m gone for a few days. Nie Zonghui will make sure I get any immediate messages. I did write to you, but after the second letter was left unanswered, did you really think I wouldn’t come see if you were alright? After what I heard from Huisang?”

“I apologize for worrying you. It wasn’t my intention to forget our weekly correspondence.”

“I’m not angry about that, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue could see the other clan leader fidget nervously. His friend’s fidgeting was subtle, a change in his breathing pattern, his hands tense on his knees with his palms pressed against light blue robes. Things that were only noticeable if you knew a Lan, and even then they weren’t this noticeable. It was another sign that Xichen seemed too exhausted to uphold a mask.

Lan Xichen bowed his head, strands of his dark hair falling over his face. “What would you do,” he asked him, “if Huisang died?”

The question was rhetorical, but Nie Mingjue couldn’t breathe for a moment. Imagining living without his brother beside him, outliving him, was painful. Unthinkable, he thought.

“I would kill whoever was responsible!” he hissed, not hiding the fierce protectiveness he felt burning inside his chest. Baxia hummed at his side, sharing his feelings when it came to Huisang.

Lan Xichen shrunk under his gaze, looking less and less like the man Mingjue had seen the last time the other had visited the Unclean Realm. It wasn’t making any sense to him, but something had changed drastically in that time. Had someone tried to kill one of the twin jades, he thought upon connecting the sudden question how he would react, to Huisang’s worried mention of Wangji and Xichen no longer speaking to each other. Was it someone who Lan Xichen couldn’t act against without political repercussions? His friend had always been conscious to hold the peace. The pieces still didn’t add up, he thought. He frowned, wishing to be more helpful in this situation, but he was made for the battlefield more than for deep emotional talks. Normally, it would be Xichen listening to him whenever he had to vent his frustrations about Huisang, or sect leader Yao. Now their roles were reversed, with Nie Mingjue feeling quite out of depth as he looked at Xichen and waited for him to reveal what had him so shaken.

“A-jue, Wangji told me he’s from the future.”

Mingjue felt disbelief listening to his friend’s tale. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been that. Any doubts fled his mind when Xichen looked up, meeting his eyes. He was serious.

“I didn’t know. He was so different when he came back, and I didn’t know why, not until he showed me. A-jue, it was me. I hurt him. I killed him.”

Nie Mingjue was left speechless at the admission, helpless as he watched his oldest friend break under this weight. His earlier words haunted him. ‘I would kill them!’ Never could he have imagined Lan Xichen to be the one who would… it still seemed impossible.There was no reconciling the image of Lan Xichen he had with the one his friend told him did this kind of thing. In his mind, Lan Xichen was kind, compassionate, amiable, always adamant to see the best in people to an extent that had Mingjue worry his friend was blind to the deceiving nature of others. Not everyone was as righteous as the Lan, not everyone adhered to a strict set of three thousand rules.

“What am I supposed to do?” came the tearful words, spoken softly by Xichen. He seemed like he’d forgotten his visitor completely as he continued asking himself, “Why would I hurt him like that? I lied to him. I used his trust. I’m despicable.”

“Xichen…” His words met deaf ears, Xichen continuing to ramble.

“He’s never going to forgive me. He can’t even stand being around his murderer. I can’t say I don’t understand. Maybe I should go into seclusion.”

“A-Huan!” he shouted to interrupt the man’s increasing rambling, concerned by the self-condemnation and the way Xichen’s breathing had picked up with every word from his lips. Having gained the other’s attention, he softened his voice, uncomfortable by how out of depth he felt, but this was Xichen. Who needed him to be the calm voice of reason before he could talk himself into a panic, it seemed. “Whether Wangji forgives you or not, it’s on him. But Lan Huan, it’s not your fault. This future hasn’t happened to you and it won’t.”

It seemed not to be quite the right choice of words, but Xichen nodded, prominent bags under his eyes pronounced by the wet trails from tears. The sight was too intimate to show another sect leader, but they’d been friends before they’d become sect leaders, and Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think of exploiting the trust shown in him by thinking Xichen weak for letting all masks fall in his presence.

“Thank you,” Xichen said, collecting the shards of himself back together to form a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but was meant to be genuine. The exhaustion was even more prominent in his bones now. Nie Mingjue shrugged uncomfortably, suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Leave it to Xichen to apologize for having a breakdown in front of his childhood friend.

“No need,” he said. “I would probably react similarly if it were Huisang. Well, probably with a lot more anger.” If he knew himself at all, he would probably hunt down everything between here and Qinghe.

Xichen gave a wry laugh. It wasn’t a comforting sound nor lessening Nie Mingjue’s worry over his friend’s mental state. He sighed. When Huisang had approached him, eyes wide as he told him of this year’s lecture – in truth speaking more of how Lan Wangji had developed a sudden animosity towards his older brother – he’d asked about it in his first letter to Xichen and gotten no reply. His second try had been out of concern since it was unlike Xichen to leave him with unanswered questions like that.

“A-Huan,” he said, deciding to use the name he hadn’t spoken often since both of them had been bestowed with their courtesy names. He’d used the name twice earlier in his own panic to make Xichen listen to him. “I’m here if you need someone to listen. Or if you want to let it all out in a spar.” he tacked on, unaccustomed to being the one comforting someone.

Xichen’s look directed at him this time seemed lighter, less brittle around the edges as he smiled in amusem*nt. His voice was filled with gratitude. “A-jue, you don’t have to come here just to console me. I should be able to handle this on my own.”

Mingjue scoffed at this. “Who said that’s healthy? You shouldn’t be alone. And besides, I would feel better knowing I’m of some help here than stressing about you while in the unclean realm. Do me the courtesy of telling me when you need help, Lan Huan. Please.”

At his best friend’s words, Xichen was left speechless. He’d wondered over his future self’s reasons for what he’d seen him do, had despaired over his own fraught relationship to his brother and completely lost his grip on reality outside his hanshi to the point where Mingjue had come to Gusu to visit him. He hadn’t even noticed himself how far he’d gone in his self-wallowing, he thought. But Mingjue had been here before he could truly lose himself, he’d caught him. Xichen felt warmth blossoming in his chest at the thought.

They spent the rest of Mingjue’s visit exchanging stories of lighter things happening since their last meeting, Xichen making them another pot of fresh tea and changing into another set of robes after washing his face to be more presentable. Now that he felt better, he was embarrassed over his earlier state. He’d been a mess.

Nie Mingjue didn’t comment on it, though. Xichen wanted to thank him, for what exactly he wasn’t sure. The words died on his tongue the moment he looked into his face and remembered that deep voice telling him, it’s not your fault. He hadn’t known he needed to hear these words, before they’d been spoken with such certainty.

They enjoyed the rest of the day before Nie Mingjue departed for Qinghe, leaving with another promise from Xichen to write to him if he needed to talk, or if not him then talk to someone else.

Chapter 18: come back to Yunmeng with me

Chapter Text

Chapter XVIII

Yunmeng’s docks were lively when the Jiang delegation and Lan Wangji arrived, the people having noticed the purple and blue robes shouting greetings that sect leader Jiang returned with a nod as he herded his children along the path leading to Lotus Pier. Lan Wangji felt many heads turning his way while he followed the Jiangs, Wei Ying only a step ahead and telling him of every personal tale, every small experience he had of the places they came across on their way. Lan Wangji listened to him, taking in the people unburdened by the war with the Wens. Yunmeng Jiang had no doubt thrived since the time of Jiang Chi, growing to become one of the five great sects it was today. This was not the sect who’d risen from its ashes under Jiang Wanyin’s hand, nor the beginning of one under the lead of Jiang Chi. This was the home Wei Ying spoke of with longing in his eyes. Lan Wangji would honour this chance to be able to see it.

They reached the doors leading into the main sect quarters. Jiang Fengmian stopped and turned around. He addressed Lan Wangji when he wished him a pleasant stay at Yunmeng, also telling him of where he would find his guest quarters.

“Wangji thanks Jiang-zhongzu for his hospitality.” He sketched a bow, and then he was dragged away by the elbow by Wei Ying. He heard what he believed was sect leader Jiang suppressing a laugh at his ward’s antics.

“You don’t have to be so formal with uncle Jiang. He wouldn’t mind, you're family. Going to be family.”

“Wei Ying, it would be rude.”

Wei Ying's hand slipped into his, leading him through Lotus Pier to a room that held the personal touches he’d come to associate with Wei Ying from sharing the jingshi with him. Paper strewn haphazardly around the table in the room, a wooden comb with a lotus flower emblem sitting on the dresser, a few personal items on a shelf in a way that wasn’t not tidy, but also held no discernable order to it. In other words, it was clearly Wei Ying’s room, he thought.

“You can just put your stuff here, until we return later. I was going to show you my favourite places around Lotus Pier before we’re expected to show up for dinner.”

Lan Wangji was glad the decision where he would stay was taken from him. He hadn't wanted to be parted from Wei Ying. Stepping around Wei Ying, he laid down his qiankun pouches in a neat fashion. Hands sneaked around him from behind and a warm chest was pressed carefully against his back conscious of his sensitivity from the scars marring the whole expanse of his back, wounds meant to remain forever. Wei Ying sighed.

"You know, I wanted to show you around when we were studying in Cloud Recesses the first time. I didn't even know why it was so important to me that you came." Wei Ying laughed suddenly, the vibrations of his chest felt through their contact.

Wei Ying laughed a lot, he thought. Before the Wen indoctrination, before the war, Wei Ying’s laugh had been bright and unburdened. Innocent, like they’d all been at the time. Later, his laugh had hidden a lot more pain. His laughs had hidden the bitterness of having lost hope in the world at the end.

"Lan Zhan, were you jealous when I mentioned all the cute girls? You must have been!"

It was like stepping into a warm bath at the end of the day, hearing Wei Ying’s happy laugh and knowing this at least, wasn’t lost to him. This was something he could have. Something he did have, here and now.

Wei Ying, of course, noticed his silence for what it was and continued his reminiscing. “I’m sorry, I was so oblivious. When you always ignored my offer to be friends, I started believing you didn’t like me. Even Jiang Cheng told me to stay away since you must hate me, so.”

“Never hated you.”

“I know that now.”

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure Wei Ying understood how much he truly loved him. How far he’d go for Wei Wuxian. He laid one hand on top of the other’s that were splayed across his chest over his wildly beating heart.

“I love you. Have never loved anyone but you.” Lan Wangji wasn’t good with words, but in cases like this, he needed not to be misunderstood.

Wei Ying buried his head in the nape of his neck, his arms around the Lan tightening while he sorted through the chaos inside him at Lan Wangji’s words. As embarrassed as he was to hear such words spoken to him, Wei wuxian couldn’t stop a smile from spreading on his face, murmuring softly, “I know. Not sure how I deserve to have someone as perfect as you, but I’m not as good a person as you are. I’m a selfish person, because now that I know my feelings are returned, I’ll not let you go. I want to be with you every day of our lives.”

Lan Wangji wanted that too. Very much.

True to his words, Wei Ying showed him around his childhood home the following days, from spots around the wooden piers to watch the sunrise to hidden groves where Wei Ying told him he would retreat to when he didn’t wish for even his siblings to find him. He told him where the ancestral hall was situated, where he’d kneel whenever he’d been punished for his misbehaviour by Yu-furen. He showed him the training field where he greeted the disciples, their return greetings much more free in giving hugs and Wei Ying letting go of Lan Wangji’s hand for a moment to embrace his shidi and shimei. Like in Cloud Recesses, many of these people had died in the initial attack by the Wen. Unlike the Lan, the Jiang disciple had been close to the other disciples of his sect. It didn’t mean Lan Wangji hadn’t mourned for his people. He knew of the loss in Wei Ying’s heart, could see it in the way he would embrace them tight as if fearing they’d vanish from his grasp.

His first day here, they met the Jiangs in the dining hall for dinner. Jiang Fengmian and his children were seated comfortably around the table, while his wife sat with an aura of tension around her like a veil. Wei Ying barely spoke of her, mostly mentioning one or the other way he’d angered her and gotten punished. It was clear in the way Wei Ying was less exuberant now throughout dinner, staying out of her sight by melding into unobtrusiveness, or trying to. His place at Lan Wangji’s side, who was clothed in white and a guest invited to the family dinner, was futile. He saw Madame Yu’s gaze coldly assess them, her lips tightening when Wei Ying put steamed vegetables on his plate. He shot Wei ying a grateful look, avoiding the spicier dishes and meat filled ones. He suffered through dinner, allowing his clan rules to give him an excuse not to speak during the meal.

—

Jiang Cheng breathed in the air of Lotus Pier, the scent of Lotus Flowers in bloom something he'd missed during his studies away. He exhaled with a sigh his sister noticed, halting her efforts of picking lotus seeds. Their mother didn't like seeing her doing such menial tasks. Jiang Cheng saw no problem with her choosing to do whatever she liked to do. Yanli wasn't born with the same hot temperament as him or their mother, her core unable to cultivate with a sword from circ*mstances of her fragile health. It was just another expectation heaped on him to excel in her stead, while he had to stand in Wei Wucians shadow and losyen to his mother telling him all his failures in that regard.

Wei Wuxian who's done the same as before, by vanishing alongside his future husband, uncaring of propriety at all. Jiang Cheng grumbled to himself, tossing a piece of peeled lotus seed skin into the clear waters. Wei Wuxian had been different since meeting Wangji, and he was conflicted over how he should feel about it. His mother was strangely pleased, no doubt about the arrangement being useful to Yunmeng Jiang in securing them stronger connections to the Lan sect. Jiang Cheng himself just wanted Wei Wuxian to hold onto their promise, but lately he’d seen his shixiong holding a spark in his eyes, one he had at first not recognized to belong to the second jade being at Wei Wuxian’s side. He would need to be blind not to see it, he thought morosely. Wei Wuxian had been like a whole different person, after all.

—

Lan Wangji hadn't seen the Lotus Pier Wei Ying had so often spoken about with a sad glint in his eyes and a melancholy air around him before. He had been to Yunmeng after the war, buildings and people bearing the scars of the Wen attack but unerringly rebuilding from the ashes. Now the place was bright and cheery, the carefree attitude of the Yunmeng folk surrounding them on their way through the streets and marketplace, spice reaching his nose and Wei Ying dancing around him when his attention was caught by something or other that he wanted to show him.

Lan Zhan let himself be dragged around, enjoying this senseless wandering solely for their enjoyment alone. He was a bit tired these days, but told himself it was the loud and bustling atmosphere of his surroundings that led to his exhaustion and lack of sleep. It must be restlessness, the way he'd been permanently on guard around Cloud Recesses.

A dragon's beard candy was pressed into his hands next, an apology for making him eat that one very spicy dish of local cuisine Lan Zhan swore never to eat again in his life. His taste buds had wept at the red shade of the seasoned rice and vegetables. Wei Ying had caught on when Lan Zhan had weakly asked for some tea. He’d theatrically widened his eyes, sounding hurt when he’d asked Lan Wangji why he’d never said anything about the spice being too much for him. His ears had burned, he’d looked down into the eye watering broth of his soup, until Wei Ying had quickly assured him that it was fine, and brought him tea for his burning throat. Even the mellowest of Yunmeng cuisine was rich in flavour. He found he was fond of the sweet options of the region, something Wei Ying picked up on fast which was why he was subjected to tasting anything that was the slightest bit sweet in Wei Ying’s opinion.

Wei Ying’s voice ripped him out of the memory, sounding worried. “Lan Zhan? Are you alright?”

He saw a hand reaching for his forehead, before he felt it touching his cheek instead. Gazing into Wei Ying’s own worried eyes, he hummed non committedly to lift his worries. “Tired,” he admitted, but quickly added, “probably nothing.”

Wei Ying didn’t seem reassured. His expression told as much, one eyebrow wandering up.

“Probably? You’ve just recovered from a cold when we left Gusu, what if you’re still sick?”

Now the hand wandered up to his forehead. They were currently wandering along an almost hidden part of the pier, past the throng of people, so it was only the two of them among the lakes and scenery of lotus fields.

“...no fever at least. Any trouble breathing? Sore throat?”

“Wei Ying.”

“You’ll tell me if it is something.” It wasn’t a question. Lan Wangji stared back at him, when Wei Ying levelled him with a gaze telling him he should have told him earlier. It was with guilt that he admitted maybe he should have. He was sure it was nothing he should worry the other with. Even if it was something more than just his cold lingering and making him feel tired, he wouldn’t want to see Wei Ying worry himself needlessly, not when he was finally given the time to reunite with his brother and sister and return to the life he’d had here.

“Lan Zhan. Please”

Taking Wei Ying’s hand to let it slide back to cradle the side of his face, he nodded. “Mn.”

“I think I need a few more words from you this time.” Wei Ying teased lightly, but his eyes weren’t clear of the true emotions he felt. Lan Wangji hadn’t wanted him to worry, nevertheless he felt warm at having Wei Ying so obviously caring about his well-being.

“I will tell Wei Ying.”

“Alright. Thank you.” They’d drifted closer unconsciously, their faces only a small width apart. Wei Ying bridged the gap between them to leave a sweet kiss on Lan Wangji’s lips, who closed his eyes at the brush of lips on his own. He opened them again, to be able to follow those lips and kiss them again. And again, for good measure, and because they could.

“No need for thank you’s between us.” he told Wei Ying when they returned much later, the sky already darkening.

They went on night hunts, Lan Wangji enjoying the freedom of having Wei Ying at his side, whole and free, unburdened by his path and wielding Suibian with the same swift skill as that day they’d met. He knew their time was fast approaching the discussion conference in Qishan. It wouldn’t be long until the Wen indoctrination camp afterwards. He hoped that his brother had heeded their warnings, or countless lives would once again be lost, knowledge of generations of Lans forever falling victim to the devouring flames.

A spark cracked too close for comfort and had him flinch out of his memories to the present where he shuffled back, away from the orange glow of their campfire. It gave him a puzzled look from Jiang Wanyin, who’d stoked in the flames with a twig. At Wei Ying’s scolding words, he replied, “It didn’t even reach his sleeves! You’re the one who’s a fire hazard, stop leaning over my shoulder and wait until I can put the pot over the fire, you child!”

Wei Ying came over to sit beside him, the flames dancing in his grey eyes. They appeared more amber like that. He felt Wei Ying’s warmth, more agreeable to him than that of the open fire. Wei Ying had noticed his stiff tensed muscles, the unnatural stillness with which he held himself. Lan Wangji had hated to be touched by anyone as a child, especially after his mother's death. He'd only allowed brother and uncle to be close to him. Wei Ying’s silent question was answered with a subtle nod from him and then he felt Wei Ying’s warmth – much preferred to the blazing heat of the fire – around him as Wei Ying leaned into his side, his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Wei Ying didn’t need to ask for permission to touch him, but he still did sometimes regardless of Lan Wangji having him given permission long ago. It led to a different kind of warmth in his chest, one he accepted as part of loving Wei Ying.

Wei Ying started retelling some night hunts he'd gone on with his shidi. He let himself fall into the cadence of Wei Ying’s voice, his heart slowing from its rapid beating of before. The cold night air helped soothe his skin that remembered the searing heat of flames too close to him, while he’d been helpless with his broken leg, coughing from the smoke choking him.

Their dinner was slightly burned, but salvageable, Jiang Wanyin grouching some more when it was mentioned by Wei Ying. When he looked though, there was no fire behind the words, Jiang Wanyin’s expression in contrast to what came out of his mouth, the affection for his brother hidden behind barbs and jabs, and his general prickly character. Wei Ying laughed brightly and unrestrained, trading verbal blows with his brother, the hesitancy in his voice sometimes going unnoticed by the Jiang. Their estrangement after Wei Ying’s reappearance in the sunshot campaign had hurt Wei Ying, who’d fought for the safety of his siblings the most, even when they couldn’t see it.

His stay at lotus pier continued like this, Wei Ying happily showing him around, and him following to have Wei Ying smile and stutter from happiness at finally getting to share his childhood home with him. Lan Wangji was happy to see Wei Ying so carefree, both knowing this couldn't last. Which was why they often sought a quiet place to breathe and just be. A way to escape the looks given to them by Jiang Wanyin – intruding and unwelcome, Lan Wangji found, seeing Jiang Wanyin’s open jealousy at having to share Wei Wuxian with the Lan. These shared moments between him and his soulmate were to trade quiet moments filled with music and kisses, moments which made it easier to breathe in the tranquil quiet of the other’s presence and forget about what lay ahead.

It was worth hiding the breathlessness when he started feeling a pain in his chest, the way his limbs felt heavy after a night hunt and the tiredness wouldn't fade after a night’s rest. The way he grew dizzy one time during a walk through the market and had to stop until the black spots faded from his vision.

He couldn’t hide everything from Wei Ying. He’d promised not to hide feeling unwell, guilt stabbing at him for the way Wei Ying looked at him when he had to lead him out of the crowded market and sat him down nearby where less people would notice them.

“I’m fine,” he protested, but it was not convincing. He’d never needed to lie convincingly in his whole life. It felt wrong to tell a lie now, after following the rule against lying all his life.

“You’re not fine.”

No, he wasn't. He shouldn’t have lied to himself, another rule he’d broken by hiding his state from Wei Ying. He lowered his eyes, unable to lie but also unable to say the truth. Words had never been his strength.

“Look at me.”

He looked up into Wei Ying’s face, his gaze directed at a point behind his ear, before he could bring himself to meet his eyes. With some relief he saw nothing but worry and some kind of understanding in Wei Ying’s eyes. Not the disappointment he’d feared at this betrayal of trust in Wei Ying.

Having his attention now, Wei Ying searched him for some kind of sign, before his gaze snapped back to look into his eyes. The brush of his hand against his cheek was brief, but conveyed everything Wei Ying felt that he wasn’t saying in this moment. The suggestion to maybe get a doctor to take a look at the Lan was quickly answered with refusal. Lan Wangji didn’t want to have a stranger examine him, stubbornly clinging to the opinion that he didn’t need to see a healer. Wei Ying didn’t like this, their discussion turning heated when Lan Wangji still refused seeking help.

He’d turned his head away, the fight draining him of his remaining energy and leaving him tired. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with what he’d eaten earlier today and everything with the way Wei Ying had sounded close to pleading with him by the end. Still, he couldn’t be persuaded.

Lan Wangji could see the sour look on Jiang Wanyin’s face in the waning light upon their return. He had to take deep breaths to have his limbs stop trembling beneath his robes, the dizziness from earlier having turned to a heaviness settling inside his bones that wouldn’t wear off. Thankfully, Wei Ying’s attention was turned completely on his shidi who if he were in possession of Zidian, would be crackling with the spiritual weapon’s electrical energy.

“So you deigned to grace us with your presence, after shirking your duties for the whole day, again!”

Wei Ying’s flinch and his surprised face made him want to hurl Wanyin into one of the Lotus lakes. Today had drained him of any patience he held for the boy, and fighting with Wei Ying had him wish to crawl beneath his blanket and find solace in blissful sleep.

“I trained with the junior disciples, you can ask any of them!” Wei Wuxian answered, still shocked from his brother’s ire at him and not in the mood to entertain him, wanting to get Lan Wangji at least to lie down.

“This is it then? You did your duty, so you can walk off wherever you want, with him?”

“Jiang Cheng! Why are you suddenly angry at me for spending more time with Lan Zhan?”

Wanyin made a frustrated sound, deflating a bit, the anger still apparent when he said, “What do you want me to think? You have been with him all day, since we’ve come back here. You avoid us all, you’re… And I shouldn’t believe you would just, I don’t know, elope the first chance you got?!”

“I wouldn’t, but now that you start being unreasonable, accusing me like this, maybe I should have already!” Wei Ying shouted back.

There was a shocked silence after his outburst, before Jiang Wanyin’s expression turned bitter. Wide eyed, Wei Wuxian tried to apologize for his words which he hadn’t meant to hurt like they had by being spoken carelessly.

“I didn’t mean it. Jiang Cheng, I wouldn’t- “

Lan Wangji knew about Jiang Wanyin’s jealousy and thought that Wei Ying was too sympathetic while the other had never tried to work on his own behavior. The man hadn’t helped Wei Ying when he’d had his own sect, and had instead broken all ties between him and his ‘brother’. Jiang Wanyin had abandoned Wei Ying himself, but he’d seen it as Wei Ying leaving Lotus Pier.

“Is this where your loyalties lie now?” Jiang Wanyin asked, his voice holding a cutting edge to them. “What does Lan Wangji have that you forget whose family you belong to, Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Ying looked ready to apologize and make amends, even opening his mouth to speak when Lan Wangji interrupted him. Breaking his sect’s rules was easier every time he did it, he noted distantly.

“Jing Cheng, I’m- “

“No,” two pairs of eyes looked at him for speaking up uncharacteristically while Wei Ying had been about to speak, “Wei Ying shouldn’t need to apologize to you. He doesn’t belong to you. He’s not a possession to have. You expect him to always take your side. If you want him to be your brother, stop treating him like your servant.”

He knew his words were harsh, and Jiang Wanyin reacted as he’d expected by drawing Sandu in a flash, but he’d been prepared. He blocked the first attack with Bichen, and deflected the second easily. His earlier lethargy was hastily shoved aside, compartmentalized to concentrate on Jiang Wanyin’s attacks and defend against them.

The Yunmeng style was fast and swift, fluid movements that were built on the cultivator’s speed to execute every movement and have it be powerful. It was less aggressive than the Nie style, more fluid than the rigid dance of the Lan style.

Where Wei Ying was unpredictable in his wild execution of his attacks that incorporated the core of the Yunmeng style, Jiang Wanyin fought even more aggressively. Lan Wangji was having no problem with his battle experience to defend himself against a foe he found predictable in contrast to Wei Ying, quickly in control of the fight. Bichen stopped at the other man’s throat, golden eyes frosted over.

“Pathetic,” were his words, arm rigid to stop it from trembling in exhaustion.

He could see they hit deep, Jiang Wanyin glaring daggers at him. The man looked ready to continue their fight, despite being defeated.

Lan Wangji blinked, black spots dancing before his eyes. He hadn’t been hit during their brief fight, but his body wasn’t thanking him and he had to fight to stay conscious now. Bichen was a sudden weight in his hand. His chest constricted as it got difficult to breathe. He lowered his blade out of necessity rather than of wanting to, but glaring at Wanyin to dare him into attacking him and showing him that his combative nature was greater than his sense of honour.

Jiang Wanyin didn’t. He too lowered Sandu and stepped back. Wei Ying stepped between them and at his disapproving look he felt suddenly small, shame crawling across the pit in his stomach and the righteousness he’d felt before leaving him. He’d needlessly provoked Wei Yings brother. He’d thrown his sect rules out into the lake for pettiness, and he couldn't look Wei Ying in the eye in fear of seeing his own disappointment in himself reflected there.

“What the f*ck were you thinking starting a fight like that?! You know what, I can’t talk to you right now.” Wei Ying hissed at his brother, trembling in barely controlled rage.

“Wei Ying,” he called the other’s name to have him look over his shoulder at him. Wei Ying’s anger softened to concern over him.

It’s alright, he told him with a look, please let me handle this on my own. He saw Wei Ying’s shoulders lose a bit of the tenison in them, before a voice broke the tension surrounding them.

“A-Xian? A-Cheng? What are you and Lan-er-gongzi doing outside, standing around?”

Chapter 19: who am I to you?

Chapter Text

Chapter XIX

A voice like a fresh breeze in this moment, kind and as soft as the lotus flowers drifting on the lakes made them both turn towards the approaching figure of Jiang Yanli. Jiang Wanyin felt relieved at seeing her. It meant he had an excuse to turn away from Wei Wuxian’s accusing stares and Lan Wangji’s annoyingly perceiving glare.

“A-jie.”

“Shijie.”

“Jiang-guniang.”

His sister shook her head at the second jade,“Oh, none of that now. We are to be family and already friends, I hope. Please, call me Jiang Yanli.”

Lan Wangji seemed slightly taken aback by this offer, before he addressed her with “Jiang Yanli.” The smile she gave him was lovely, before turning to her brothers, expression turning back into the worried look she’d had earlier. Jiang Wanyin softened at her immediately. “Jie?”

“A-Cheng what happened? Were you fighting?”

He looked away, his guilt an unpleasant feeling when she was asking him now. She always managed to make them feel small again, like the little boy who’d been angry and hurt over his father sending his puppies away. He heard the swish of Lan Wangji’s wide and impractical sleeves as the other bowed to his sister.

“I must apologize. I provoked a fight with Wanyin earlier, after he insulted Wei Ying.”

He scoffed. What a bastard, to throw him right under the carriage this way and daring to look so upstanding by admitting to the fight in the first place. Now he had to admit to his own actions and it left him feeling sour, since Wangji already mentioned it. Meanwhile Wei Wuxian, who normally wouldn't shut up, was strangely silent. He risked a glance at the other boy and saw him standing close to Lan Wangji still. He wouldn’t focus on that for now.

“I attacked you first.” Because no matter how much he hated her being disappointed at him for acting childishly, he couldn’t lie to her and absolve himself of blame in this. This was jie.

“A-Cheng!” He winced, his fear coming true at hearing the disappointment in her tone. She then turned to Lan Wangji. “I ask Lan-er-gongzi to follow me and my brother inside where we can resolve this issue more privately. It would certainly be more comfortable.”

Lan Wangji nodded. They followed her inside through the halls and along walkways, towards a secluded pavilion where Jiang Cheng knew they’d not be disturbed and they could speak without being overheard by household staff or wandering disciples.

Jiang Yanli settled on one of the seats around the small tea table, folding her hands in her lap and waiting for the boys to follow suit. Then she pierced them both with a look that had Jiang Cheng squirm and Lan Wangji sitting with perfect posture. Wei Wuxian was uncomfortably silent, a glance revealing his face cast in a dark manner. This cold and silent anger he held was not something Jiang Wanyin was accustomed to. It had him uneasy as he waited for his sister to speak.

“Now, why don’t you start telling me why I found you all standing outside?” she asked with steel entering her tone.

They had admitted to their fight earlier, so Jiang Wanyin would not shame himself by finding a convincing lie to have himself cast in a better light now – he would have done so with father, while mother would automatically see him as a failure and cast all blame to Wei Wuxian. You didn’t lie to Jiang Yanli, though. She always knew when you did, but didn’t pressure you into telling the truth. She didn’t need to, since both of them weren’t able to lie to her.

He’d known the moment his sister had chosen this place for them to talk, they had disappointed her in some way. She often presented her mild and demure side to everyone, but in moments like these, she was like the first growl of a thunderstorm, with the hint of danger telling you not to cross her. It wasn’t often that that anger was directed at them. To the brothers she was a comforting steadfast presence, their sister’s affection something they were always striving for and defending her in front of her – in their eyes – undeserving fiancé. Seeing her with a glint of steel in her eye, the aura surrounding her slightly crackling like approaching thunder.

Jiang Wanyin looked at his sister, and was the first to speak. He retold the encounter with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, admitting what he’d said. Afterwards, she asked Lan Wangji to confirm his words.

It was hard to admit he’d been the one at fault. Lan Wangji’s words had been harsh, because they’d hit true. But they couldn’t be, he thought.

It had always been him who’d needed to make concessions in their life. His dogs, his father’s love, being head disciple, being a talented cultivator. Of course Wei Wuxian should be loyal to Yunmeng Jiang.Mother always reminded them who had taken Wei Wuxian in, didn’t she? And hadn’t he thought so too?

Grey eyes flashed in his mind, torn between two people who he felt loyal to. Maybe, maybe their expectations of Wuxian had been unfair. His mind wandered back to when he’d thought of the couple, how Wuxian had looked overly happy. Had that been it? Or had it simply been that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth, Wuxian having never been truly happy before?

“I’ve been unfair to you,” he realized, swallowing back the bile. How hadn’t he noticed this before? Their childish teasing and hair pulling, turning bitter with a rivalry and expected servitude.

He felt Jiang Yanli reaching for his hand with her own, smaller one. She always was quick to give reassurance in this kind of situation, knowing him better than even Jinag Wanyin thought he knew himself sometimes.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t said much during the conversation before. Now he stood abruptly from his seat at Jiang Wanyin’s words, gaze never meeting any of the Jiang siblings. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I don’t care about what you said, I am indebted to uncle Jiang after all.”

“Wei Ying,” injected Lan Wangji calmly.

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “Lan Zhan hasn’t been feeling well lately. We’ll go visit healer Zhao Jing, see you at dinner shijie.”

Jiang Wanyin watched them go, knowing he had to speak to Wei Wuxian somehow. Jiang Yanli watched her brother vanish inside the compound and hoped everything was well. She too hadn’t known how deep her parents’ words had reached A-Xian despite her best efforts at making him a part of her little family, to feel welcome here.

—

Wei Wuxian was skipping stones morosely by one of the piers looking out over the water off to the back of Lotus Pier’s main quarters. The light wooden pillars held a roof over the empty corridor facing the lake on one side and a stone courtyard on the other. This time of day, the stone garden was deserted which was why he’d gone here. Visiting Zhao Jing, all the healer could tell them was that Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy was becoming too strained from what seemed to be overuse, resulting in exhaustion and fatigue. It was strange though, since Lan Zhan’s qi shouldn’t be depleted like this. Dinner had been the same strained affair it always was, he thought, throwing another stone into the water when he was out of flat ones he could skip over the lake.

Steps reverberated over the wooden planks and he heard a soft exhale, then the voice of his shidi.

“Wei Wuxian.”

He ignored Jiang Cheng, shoulder drawing back to throw another stone. It landed behind a row of lotus in the clear waters. He crouched down to get another one from his pile. He was nearly out of stones to throw.

“I apologized to Lan Wangji.”

“That’s great.” And not what he’d expected Jiang Cheng to say or do, but these days he seemed to no longer know this version of his shidi. In the future that never was nor would be, his shidi had taken the Wen remnants in when Wei Wuxian had handed himself in. It had been partly due to Jiang Yanli’s sympathy, but what counted was that he had been able to see beyond his hatred for the Wens. This Jiang Cheng he was faced with hadn’t grown as a person going through war. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to act around a younger childish version of Jiang Cheng who tried to talk to him. Another stone landed several spaces away in the lake.

Jiang Cheng made a sound of frustration. He heard him hit one of the wooden beams with his fist, a bitten off curse following. “Argh… I really hate it when you’re like that.”

“Like what.”

He could picture it. Jiang Cheng floundering for a moment before he heard him sigh and then the sound of him settling beside him on the pier. Familiar, comforting. He tensed and threw another stone, still willing to ignore his shidi’s presence. Their relationship had been easier when the lines had been clear, with him as none other than the head disciple, willing to do his duty to the Jiangs for taking him in. It had hurt to abandon him, for following what was right. They’d broken all ties, in the end. Only shijie had held them together by a single thread. One he’d always be unable to let go of. Now he was no longer the Wei Wuxian who his brother tried to see in him, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t the brother who he’d given everything for and cared for even when that brother stood aside while others hunted innocent people. He watched the next stone sink into the lake after four consecutive skips. Next to him the wooden boards told him Jiang Cheng had leaned backwards, arms supporting his weight.

“Exactly what you’re doing right now. Ignoring me. Being all moody and brooding and kind of angry-silent. I told you, I apologized to him.” he said. Then he added, “And after jie had us talk to her, I can kind of understand now why he would be so angry. I guess. He’s better than the peaco*ck at least.”

“She isn’t this angry normally.” he decided to say, remembering as much as Jiang Cheng when shijie had them all sit down and talk things out. Right before Wei Wuxian had used Lan Zhan as an excuse to flee from an uncomfortable situation. He’d felt bad about that right afterwards, Lan Zhan not even complaining about being made to visit a healer.

“...no. She was just worried.” He decided to look at Jiang Cheng to get a clue why he sounded so… strange. His shidi was staring down into the lake, frowning but without the usual bristling anger he held when he had that kind of expression. More subdued, more defeated. He helplessly watched him and didn’t understand it at all.

“Wait. Was she mad at Lan Zhan?”

Jiang Cheng laughed, “Why would she be mad at him? She was upset that we fought.”

Ah, shijie, he thought. The peaco*ck would need some work before he could allow him to marry her. Last time he had needed to be smacked a few times to see how good their sister was, and not without hurting her feelings unintentionally. He was glad she had accepted Lan Zhan as the person he loved, and he promised himself he would make sure she would find her happiness with Jin Zixuan this time around. He owed it to her.

“This isn’t what I came here to say anyway. You decided to leave before I could say anything to you, after all. I’m here actually to speak with you about how I was told I took you for granted all this time. That I should be more considerate of what you want instead of seeing you as my subordinate.”

“Well, I am the head disciple. And you’re sect heir, of course it’s my duty to you to stand by your side. If uncle Jiang hadn’t taken me in, I wouldn’t have all this.”

Jiang Cheng froze. Slowly he turned his head to Wei Wuxian, the look in his eyes indecipherable to him. Wei Wuxian saw he’d given away too much, been too honest this time instead of deflecting like he always did, and laughed to change the mood back to something lighter.

“You’re saying it again, how you’re indebted to father, to us. You really think like that.”

“Well, it is the truth, isn’t it?” Normally, he’d deflect a bit more. Not letting it show what he really thought. Wei Wuxian was tired of it, and he frankly didn’t see a point in doing so now.

“Why would you think you were my servant, Wei Wuxian?!” Jiang Cheng yelled. It robbed him of his voice to see his brother actually hurt to realize that they hadn’t seen eye to eye and one had thought his position as less in their relationship.

He leaned away and rubbed his right ear, the one to Jiang Cheng’s side. “Be a bit kinder to my ears, Jiang Cheng.” he said, but the joking manner in which he’d meant to say this fell flat, because he was too tired of always being the one to change their arguments back around to light hearted teasing and jokes. “Whatever you and shijie talked about concerning me, it doesn’t matter all that much.”

“Your life doesn’t matter all that much to you. Wei Wuxian? What else doesn’t matter? My mother sees you as more of a servant to our family than as our brother? My father favouring you over his own son?”

He flinched inadvertently, the words hurting with the memory of seeing uncle Jiang and Madam Yu laying on the ground, dead and with their cores melted by Wen Zhuliu. Jiang Cheng didn’t pause, speaking further, “I can see that I’m seeking approval that won’t ever come.”

“I’m sorry.” And he really was sorry for it, knowing how much it must hurt Jiang Cheng to be second to him in everything in their lives.

A wet laugh from Jiang Cheng. “Who said you’re to blame?”

“I’m still sorry.” He’d wanted so long to apologize for what he did to the Jiang family, who’d taken him in and given him a home. A roof and food, a safe place away from the dogs. But never had he lost his fear of returning to the dark alleyways where they’d await him if he overstayed his welcome.

“Please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault but theirs for being unable to love each other and staying bitter over it. That’s exactly why I see no reason to marry any time soon if it brings me only misery.”

He tilted his head and nudged Jiang Cheng in the shoulder. Trying to get them back to their usual antics, tired of this heavy air around them. “Who says every marriage will be like this? Me and Lan Zhan are perfectly happily, disgustingly in love!”

Jiang Cheng had the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “You don’t need to f*cking remind me!” he groaned. After a beat, he asked, “How is Lan Wangji? If it’s serious enough to need a visit to healer Zhao…”

Wei Wuxian hid his increasing worry behind what he believed to be a convincing lie when he said, “Lan Zhan isn’t accustomed to the warmer climate of Yunmeng, that is all.”

His shidi was giving him a look, but didn’t press further thankfully.

“Seriously, though. If he hurts you, I’ll break his legs!”

Wei Wuxian swooned dramatically at that, tackling Jiang Cheng in a hug. “Ah, shidi, you do care about me! I’m so glad!”

Jiang Cheng squawked, indignant, and tried to free himself from his grip. “Wei Wuxian! Get. Off. Of. Me.” he hissed.

Wei Wuxian ignored the words, not letting go. And his shidi didn’t throw him into the lake contrary to what he said, so he wouldn’t mention the wet spot where his brother had laid his head on his shoulder either.

Even later, both still gazing over the water now tinted in oranges and reds, Jiang Cheng said, “When I’m sect leader, A-Niang can’t stop me from calling you gege.”

And sh*t, Wei wuxian hadn’t expected to feel so emotional all of a sudden about a simple acknowledgement like this that had always been denied to them before, like it would matter how they called him. He had thought he’d known they were brothers, after all it was just a word. But it impacted him now so he quickly said something, distracting from how damp his lashes felt. “You know you’ll have to call Lan Zhan brother-in-law if you do that?”

“If Lan Qiren hasn’t changed his mind until then on letting you marry his nephew.” Jiang Cheng responded drily.

“Eh, if Lan-shiansheng changes his mind, Lan Zhan and I will elope!”

“Don’t you dare! Wei Wuxian!”

Chapter 20: red sun, herbal scent

Chapter Text

Chapter XX

The next discussion conference was in Qishan, and it included a seven day spectacle for all disciples under twenty summers to attend. Wangji had been staying with Yunmeng Jiang, but he’d written a short letter that he would attend as a disciple of Lan for appearances’ sake. Xichen would be happier to reunite with his brother if it weren’t for everything that stayed unspoken between them. It had taken him several tries before he’d written to Wangji, with a hesitant promise to meet during the discussion conference. Mingjue had told him to reach out, but not to crowd his brother, to give him room to breathe but to make his intention clear. He had written of his fears to Nie Mingjue and gotten his friend’s assurance that he shouldn’t let himself lose hope. Xichen found his friend’s steadfast assurances encouraging, giving him the drive to get through correspondence and meetings. Cloud Recesses felt less frigid when he was waiting for an answer from Mingjue whose style of writing was the most frank he’d ever seen, when it was addressed at Lan Xichen instead of Lan-zhongzu . He didn’t play with his words, giving his advice in the most blunt way, so much it was endearing. The letters carried a warmth with them, Xichen had lost with seeing his brother off.

The grandmaster had been informed of Wangji’s choice before they departed that morning, grumbling to himself before telling Lan Xichen he expected his nephew to return with them and go back to his duties towards their clan. He’d given his uncle a tight lipped smile, knowing how the chances of Wangji returning any time soon were.

Touching down in front of the tribunes erected for the sect leaders and the other spectators, he saw the familiar green and grey robes, spanning broad shoulders. Nie Mingjue cut through the sea of cultivators with his intimidating statue, having seen the whites and blues of the Lan delegation dotting the skies.

Greetings were exchanged, before the grandmaster left, along with the Lan disciples who’d been chosen to accompany their leader for the conference. Lan Xichen stayed with Mingjue, asking him if he’d seen Wangji. Nie Mingjue nodded somewhere to Xichen’s right, and he followed his gaze. His brother was easier to spot among the sea of blue and purple clad cultivators, clad in white and with the black and red of Wuxian’s robes at his side. He didn’t know why he thought Wangji would be different. Maybe it was his own heart missing his brother. With months between now and the last time he’d seen him, he couldn’t help thinking something must have changed.

Wangji held Bichen in his hand, and his shoulders were relaxed, his posture that of a perfect Lan disciple. Golden eyes were on Wei Wuxian who was in the midst of retelling something to him, with only a hand’s width of space between their shoulders which were angled towards each other.

Your xiongzhang is happy for you, Wangji, were his thoughts. And, I miss you. The Cloud Recesses have never felt so empty. Please, come back home.

But he wouldn’t say that. Couldn’t pressure Wangji to return with him after the discussion conference and believe he wouldn’t hold any resentment for him. So he watched them and didn’t approach, stayed carefully away and left it to Wangji to decide if he wanted his brother back in his life.

His eyes met Mingjue’s gaze who’d observed the first jade the whole time. The man’s eyebrows rose as he looked between him and the Jiang delegation. He didn’t have to explain his meaning, it was clear. Xichen nevertheless shook his head, ruefully saying, “I don’t think it wise to approach him and Wei-gongzi.”

Mingjue sighed. “Xichen…”

But Xichen was firm in his decision. Deep inside, he was afraid and tired of trying again and again and always meeting distrustful eyes, a fearful flinch. Seeing the whip scars that went as far as to crawl along his brother’s shoulder where they met his neck, hidden behind the six layers of cloth. He couldn’t approach Wangji.

“I’ll be with you.” Mingjue said, “But someone has to make the first step, before you both end up circling each other for the rest of your lives.”

A hand – calloused and broader than his own hands were, he registered – grabbed his arm. He went to protest but his voice died in his throat as Mingjue bordered the rules of politeness with the way he practically dragged the other sect leader over to where Wuxian was recreating some move, still on recreating some night hunt for his brother.

Wangji looked up and met his gaze, carefully blank. Wei Wuxian stopped speaking the moment his audience’s attention was no longer on him. He swallowed, his throat dry. He was unable to speak.

“Sect leaders,” Wei Wuxian took over for the two jades and greeted them with respectful bows, Nie Mingjue returning the courtesy. To his surprise it was Wangji who didn’t let them all descend into awkward silence.

“We are looking for Wen Qionglin.” his brother said, neither addressing him in any way that could be taken as something wrong between them, but it also hurt because Xichen was no longer entitled to being called xiongzhang by the younger. He closed his heart off to the loss he felt by something as trivial as a title, instead focusing on the information he was given freely instead of having to pull, pull, pull until he opened some bleeding wound beneath the surface that he had not the tools to stitch together.

“I’ll be sure to inform you, should I come across him,” he said, thinking it the best way to offer his help in the smallest of steps.

“Thank you, zewu-jun. Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian said, ending their conversation efficiently by excusing themselves and following the Jiang disciples further across the open field. He watched them go and vanish into the crowd. More cultivators had arrived during the short talk, and the sect coloured robes of every great clang had become one big mass of colour. Next to him, Nie Mingjue snorted. “By the immortals, now I see what Huisang meant.”

Xichen felt discouraged. “Now you know. There’s no hope for me to redeem myself.”

“Of course there is. You have a lot of work to do. Wangji is one stubborn guy, but he clearly loves you, Xichen. So don’t give up.”

He gifted his life-long friend a smile, even if he didn’t quite feel like he deserved all that encouragement from him.

Time flew, and soon the only disciples left on the field were those who’d participate in the archery competition. Nie Mingjue had joined the other leaders, face darkening at the seating arrangement and leaving with a slew of rather unflattering words towards Wen Ruohan’s sons who sat arrogantly elevated from the four leaders of Qinghe, Gusu, Yunmeng and Lanling. The anticipatory atmosphere of the disciples around him didn’t seem to be greatly affected by the political play going on above their heads. It was not only the first competition but also the one where most disciples attended. Therefore, Xichen wasn’t surprised to see this many disciples around the grounds.

A Wen boy was called out by Wen Chao. He looked over and his eyes widened in recognition. In the memory, he’d been known as the ghost general, a sentient fierce corpse. His name was Wen Qiongling, and he was apparently very timid, anxiously gripping his bow now as he drew an arrow with trembling hands. Wei Wuxian’s encouragement settled his shaking and his shot was fired with a steady arm, his pose speaking of his talent as his arrow hit true.

Everyone held their breath as they watched this happen, before some few decided to clap politely. Wen Qiongling blushed profusely, ducking his head to hide his face. Wen Chao sneered, but even he couldn’t deny this talent earned a spot in the competition. At last, Wen Qiongling was allowed to participate.

—

The first shot hit the possessed paper mannequin straight on the marker on its head. It dispersed and a flare alighted in Yunmeng colors, the symbol a sign to all who watched. Wei Wuxian grinned and notched another arrow. He let it fly hitting his next target – another of the paper dolls floating between two boulders. The competition was similar to his first experience. He had gone with Jiang Cheng, chuckling when his shidi had hit his head twice by crawling through some narrow passages, like he did the last time around. In his defense Wei Wuxian had tried to persuade him in taking the longer way around, where they would also be able to shoot the targets but he wasn’t able to outstubborn Jiang Cheng, so he only had himself to blame for the sore bump he was sporting for the time of an incense stick afterwards.

The sky was bright with blue sparks, both Lan brothers scoring points, while a white flare for Qinghe Nie went up and told of someone missing and having to give up. The next flare once again was Yunmeng Jiang. There were a lot more successful shots for QishanWen this time around though, and he knew they could only belong to Wen Ning. He smiled, thinking of his friend. He hadn’t been able to introduce himself to his friend this time around, and wen Ning had been so confused when he’d spoken up for him earlier, but therefore he’d known what to say to have Wen Ning find the courage inside himself to show everyone how much he deserved his spot in the archery competition.

The area opened wide again and another paper mannequin rose up from behind a bush, the tattered robes and painted eyes an evil red. Wei Wuxian didn’t see the other archer pointing their arrow before he was robbed of his target. His bow lowered, he turned his head to see none other than Wen Chao, who was unable not to make a nuisance of himself by gloating about how much above everyone else he was. This time, too, it seemed.

“Wei Wuxian! I won’t let you people win since I’m here.”

Next to him, Jiang Cheng was bristling in anger at the audacity, his eyes as sharp as his arrows and glaring up to where Wen Chao stood.

It didn’t take long for Wen Chao to miss one, and it was in the presence of them and three other disciples from the sects which had Wen Chao losing face more than if he’d been silently participating like everyone else instead of being insufferable.

“Wei Wuxian! You–”

Next to him, Jiang Cheng asked, “Are you going to break your own sect’s rules?”

“What rules? I am the rules,” Wen Chao said, taking three arrows out of his quiver and pointing them at the floating paper mannequin he’d missed before. The white flare of the Wen symbol was still visible, marking his last shot as a fail. Even if he hit anything now, it wouldn’t count.

“Do you have some problems with your eyes?” Wei Wuxian asked, seeing as Wen Chao was hellbent on continuing. “Can’t you see you’ve already been disqualified?”

Wen Chao, who’d been unreasonable before, didn’t appreciate being reminded of that fact. Being riled up by the perceived taunt of Wei Wuxian, he turned and instead of pointing his arrows at the target, he let them fly at Wei Wuxian who was not jumping out of the way. There were disciples of the Ouyang sect behind him who’d witnessed the scene and whose cultivation was weaker and reflexes were slower than him. In the end he didn’t need to do anything.

A white shadow descended from the sky, standing right in front of him and deflecting the arrows with a paper talisman. The arrows hit the glowing barrier of concentrated qi and harmlessly fell to the ground.

“Lan Zhan!”

“Wei Ying.”

They’d needed to split up earlier, Lan Wangji joining the Lan disciples in line outside the hunting grounds for the archery competition, and entering at a different point. Now, Lan Wangji focused on Wen Chao, his disapproval of the Wen sect’s second master’s behaviour clear. Wen Chao in return sneered but didn’t dare antagonize another sect and left. He must have found some of his remaining intelligence, and wisely decided to flee before Lan Wangji decided to murder him.

With the situation no longer being interesting, the Yunmeng brothers were left alone with Lan Wangji, who was giving Wei Wuxian a searching look.

“Ayia, I’m fine! You stepped in so valiantly, Lan Zhan. The arrows couldn’t even scratch me! See?” he said, his whole being lit up with the way he smiled. Jiang Cheng made a noise that went ignored. “You’re very good. Let’s shoot kites when we’re back, I want to see how far you can still hit.”

“Mmh.”

The man calmly took to notching an arrow and shooting it at another paper doll. The flare signal went off. Wei Ying grinned. His next arrow was fired mid-jump. It may have been to show off in front of his zhiji who’d joined their group now. If Lan Zhan sent him a slightly heated look, none but Jiang Cheng even noticed. (Jiang Cheng didn’t notice since the second jade’s expressions were the same to him, carved from jade).

Wei Wuxian had counted his hits and was sure he was in the lead again if he remembered his points right. Lan Wangji too had come close and now with the latest target being hit by the white robed cultivator, they were tied. Delighted, Wei Ying let out a laugh.

“Lan Zhan! You’re going to have to share the win with me!”

His red hair ribbon fluttered around him as he turned to Lan Wangji. They smiled at each other, in Lan Zhan’s case it was his lips ticking upwards slightly. Then, the longbow clattered to the ground. A hand came to clutch at the fabric over his chest and collar bone. Pain was etched into elegant features, before Lan Wangji collapsed.

“Lan Zhan!”

He was there in mere moments and still it seemed too slow for him, catching Lan Zhan before he could truly hit the ground. They were alone, having lost Jiang Cheng and the rest of the participants in their small private competition for first place. It was just them, surrounded by rock outcroppings which cast looming shadows over them while the sky alighted more and more with the white of missed shots. In the lighting, Lan Zhan’s already pale skin looked bleached of life. His own breath came short in panic, his heart hammering in his chest with fear as he clung to Lan Zhan.

“Wei-gongzi?”

Relief hit him like a strike with Zidian as he heard Wen Ning’s timid voice, sounding worried. Wen Ning had seen the white robed cultivator collapse and hurried over, his medical training kicking in along with his need to help the boy who’d been nice to him earlier and encouraged him while others from his own sect had ridiculed him.

They were strangers, and yet when Wen Ning kneeled beside the unconscious Lan cultivator, Wei Wuxian allowed him access to look for the reason why Lan-er-gongzi still held a pained expression on his face.

“What happened to Lan-er-gongzi?”

“I don’t know.” Wei-gongzi answered, his gaze never leaving Lan Wangji’s deadweight held protectively in his arms. His hands were shaking, Wen Ning noted. The two must be close friends for Wei Wuxian to be affected this badly.

“Can you get your sister?”

Wen Ning realized quickly that he meant Wen Qing, who was known across the cultivation world for being a brilliant doctor. He wondered how Wei Wuxian knew she was his sister, but didn’t linger long on that train of thought. Lan Wangji’s well-being was taking priority in his mind and he nodded. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.” he promised.

“Thank you. Do you know where we can wait for you to return? I can’t stay here, it’s too open and if the others see us… I don’t want this to get out before we don’t know what’s happening.”

“I understand. There should be a secluded spot not far from here.”

Wei Wuxian murmured something that was lost in the wind, then he stood with Lan Wangji in his arms. Both were of relatively the same height, but in his state the second jade looked strangely vulnerable to Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian’s dark gaze settled on him, asking him silently to lead him.

Wen Ning anxiously showed him the way, which truly wasn’t far, but hidden from any passerby who weren’t looking for it. He darted off, to get his sister as fast as possible. Wei Wuxian didn’t watch him leave. His attention was on making sure Lan Zhan would be alright until then.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. What is happening to you? Please don’t you dare leave me here, I can’t do this without you. I can’t. I really can’t. I know I said I wanted to save my family. But that means you too. You're my family Lan Zhan. I can’t lose you too. Not like that. Please, don’t let me lose you like that.” he whispered into Lan Zhan’s hair, holding him and listening to his breathing.

Time seemed to stretch while he waited, listening to Lan Zhan’s breathing along his own. Cold seeped in from where he was kneeling on the ground. Every moment without a sign from Wen Ning returning had him tense, his mind painting vivid images of Lan Zhan’s state worsening.

His ears picked up the brisk steps of two people. Appearing from around the path, her robes were immaculate, of fine quality and swishing around her form as she followed her brother who held onto her medicinal pouches. Her hands were clean of dirt, like they’d been when she’d been helping with the radish fields. With a healthy glow to her skin, bearing the whole pride he’d known her for, Wen Qing strode over to her patient.

She didn’t tell him to go. Instead she managed to work around him. Assessing Lan Wangji for injuries, asking questions. She examined his meridians, holding his wrist and assessing the flow of energies inside his body. Wei Wuxian watched her work, nerves blank from worrying and being unable to do anything.

It was her complete stillness that scared Wuxian. He’d seen this kind of expression before, and he didn’t want to see her look like this ever again. The last time the famous doctor had looked that way, shortly before hiding it from them, had been when she’d checked on Jiang Cheng after rescuing him with Wen Ning’s help and hiding in the Yiling supervisory office.

“Wen Qing”, he asked.

“He’s low on spiritual energy,” it wasn’t just Lan Zhan having used too much and exhausting himself to faint. But Wen Qing didn’t elaborate and busied herself with packing things back into her qiankun pouch under his inquiring gaze, until she paused with a sigh.

“I’d need to look into my medical texts, but for now he should simply rest and not strain his core further. Herbal remedies for core exhaustion should help, too. If he can, he shouldn’t participate in any of the competitions that need the use of his cultivation.”

In his arms, Lan Wangji stirred, eyelashes fluttering open to meet his gaze. Wei Wuxian ignored the way his own eyelashes were a bit damp, his heart soaring with seeing Lan Zhan awake. He’d been scared Lan Zhan wouldn’t wake up.

“Wei Ying,” came Lan Zhan’s voice, sounding hoarse. “Where?”

“Shh, don’t worry Lan Zhan. We’re still in Qishan, the hunting grounds. You fainted. Wen Ning and Wen Qing are here.”

His explanation was met with a glance aside to where the Wen siblings stood. “Don’t worry, Lan-er-gongzi. In the sake of patient confidentiality, this will stay between us.”

Wen Qing left them with one of her personal herbal mixtures for replenishing Lan Zhan’s energy and also a slight painkiller, after Lan Zhan had answered her questions. Had he used more of his qi than usual? Had he felt faint before today? Even if he’d eaten less or had trouble sleeping.

Afterwards, Wei Wuxian helped him stand on unsteady feet. Lan Zhan’s stone-faced expression spoke of his frustration with the situation, but Wei Wuxian had listened to his zhiji’s answers and he’d not been pleased to hear that apparently, Lan Zhan had been noticing a decline in his spiritual energy ever since re-entering the timeline in Cloud Recesses. If Lan Zhan tried to stubbornly walk by himself only to work himself into a faint again, he would carry him in his arms and damn the twin jade’s face.

Chapter 21: am I asking for too much?

Chapter Text

Chapter XXI

Returning from the hunting grounds unnoticed with Lan Zhan leaning on him had been difficult but with the help of Wen Ning, they'd made it to the guest quarters assigned to the Jiang sect. Wei Wuxian told Wen Ning they'd be fine and he should go before he entered the elegantly decorated room. It was done in dark reds and even darker woods, small tables arranged in a neat fashion around the room with a bed situated behind a room divider that was a bit tasteless to Wei Wuxian’s senses as it was almost gold enough to belong to a Jin.

Lan Zhan was conscious and walking on his own strength, but Wei Wuxian felt the way his weight leaned on him. Small tremors had shaken his form not that long ago, before the Lan typical control over their bodies had returned to Lan Zhan.

Lan Wangji sat down without protest on the single bed. Wei Wuxian took off his shoes and helped with his silver guan , careful of the intricate metal work not snatching on strands of hair when he freed it.

Lan Zhan didn’t lie down yet, as it was still early. His complexion looked his usual healthy pale shade now, although his eyes drooped a bit from exhaustion and the line of his back was not the Lan regulated upright pose. In other people, these things would be but small signs of being tired. Seeing Lan Zhan exhibit them enough to be seen all but screamed about his severe state of health.

He should go and join Jiang Cheng outside for the Qishan Wen to announce the winners of the archery competition. He should make an appearance before people wonder where they were.

He wasn't ready to leave Lan Zhan yet. He was still shaken. Even the Lan guest quarters would have been too far, only one hallway down from his own. He’d forgotten about Lan Zhan’s own room at the Lan guest quarters, taking him here. They hadn’t parted for longer than half a day since returning to the past. There hadn’t been a need to. Seeing a need to part now, it made him anxious. Like ants crawling over his body, uncomfortable to the point he felt nauseous in his stomach. Unbearable to think about separating while Lan Zhan was watching him with exhaustion lining his face.

“It’s past hai shi.”

He must have stood there, the silver guan still in his hand, for longer than he thought. He put the headpiece on top of the nearest table so it would be out of the way. “But you’ve known since we fought against the waterborn abyss. You’ve been sick then. And you didn’t think about telling me? Instead you decided to hide and go on night hunts with me, even when you were exhausted afterwards, which could have been dangerous…”

He trailed off, at a loss on what to say without sounding even more accusing in tone. His own obliviousness, because Lan Zhan didn’t tell him, didn’t trust him apparently, angered him. And more than that. It hurt, deeply. They’d been open with each other when they’d found themselves without their sects. Without any ties but to each other. He’d thought Lan Zhan knew he could talk to him, so there would be no more misunderstandings like those they’d had before. Wei Wuxian wasn’t an insecure man. He knew well enough that his personality could be straining, and that if he didn’t find out how far he would need to go until he would overstep some condition, he would always live with this invisible line he didn’t know when crossed before he was back to being alone. There hadn’t been a line with Lan Zhan, because, he thought, there wouldn’t be. How foolish. How stupid. There were always lines and he was a master in crossing them.

“Is it asking for too much, that I want to know when you’re not feeling well?” he had to ask, regardless.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Their conversation was put on hold by a knock at the door. It was Wen Qing. He opened the door to see her standing before him, with a deep set frown and a qiankun pouch. She wordlessly stepped inside, glancing briefly at Lan Wangji before taking over the table in the centre of the room. He followed her, watching as she unpacked the pouch to procure manual after manual of medical knowledge. He’d searched through all her books on medical knowledge referencing or dealing with golden cores, so he recognized some of these texts now by their binding and covers. It had taken him days and he’d come up with nothing, not until he’d found Wen Qing’s own research. These were but a handful of her collection.

Wen Qing ordered him to sit down. He did. She asked Lan Wangji to examine him again. Lan Zhan allowed it. She must have hoped for something, but was disappointed. She didn’t sigh, but he had the feeling she would’ve wanted to. She sat back down, but didn’t open any of the medical manuals spread on the table. Then she told them the fruits of her research, bringing his world crashing down.

It was because Wei Ying had decided to be selfish that this was happening. Lan Zhan’s core was unstable and fracturing, and Wen Qing couldn’t tell them if it would end with Lan Zhan losing his core or ending up with a qi deviation. Wen Qing had no explanation what had prompted the core to grow unstable, only able to find something draining his core of spiritual energy, which put a strain on the golden core. Wei Ying knew better. There had been the promise of them needing to sacrifice something, for making changes in the timeline. It was his fault, like always. The loss of his voice seemed a small prize to have paid for the life they’d been granted before. His selfish desire had been too much, and so the price to be paid was equally high this time.

Not much could be done, Wen Qing said, her voice that of a doctor who knew they were delivering bad news to their patients. She looked at Wei Wuxian who’d been nice to her brother and spoke for him, and hesitated before promising to look into her medical journals for ways to help second young master Lan, even if she doubted she hadn’t already looked at every one of them. It wouldn’t hurt, she told herself. She’d already done this much, what was one thing more. She was first and foremost a healer, having sworn an oath to help all people regardless of clan affiliation, and to never take a life if she could prevent it.

Wen Qing excused herself afterwards and they were left alone in the room again.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” It was all he ever did, apologize, while knowing it would never fix anything. If there was a line in the sand, Wei Ying would be the oncoming storm.

“No need for apologies between us.” Why was he so calm? Why was it that it was Wei Ying who felt like raging, weeping, at the loss of Lan Zhan’s core, his life? Why was Lan Zhan sitting there calmly like it didn’t affect him?

“Why are you so okay with this?” he had to ask.

Lan Zhan looked at his hands which were clenched in his lap. Only then did he notice them shaking. Lan Zhan’s shoulders were bowed and he seemed small, in his white GusuLan robes, with only his socks and his hair down.

“I’m not.” Lan Zhan whispered. “I also know that I don’t regret it. As long as I have Wei Ying, it’ll be alright.”

It broke his heart to hear him speak like that, not defeated but coming to terms with his unneeded, unfair sacrifice for something Wei Ying wanted, and not Lan Zhan himself. He had wanted his family back, and had been ready to give anything. But not this. Never this.

He stepped into Lan Zhan’s space, Lan Zhan’s sandalwood scent surrounding him as his robes brushed against his face, Lan Zhan’s warmth a comfort he hoped to never lose. His arms around Lan Zhan, he felt the other return his hug. He breathed in, inhaling the mix of sandalwood and Lan Zhan’s own scent, and closed his eyes to better ground himself. His own voice was affected by the emotion clogging his throat, “Of course you have me. Where else would I be but at your side, you silly fuddy-duddy?”

Where else would he be, he thought.

—

The days in Qishan had stretched uncomfortably to seem eternal, until everything was done and the sect leaders all left with the taste of tension in the air lingering on their tongue. Lan Xichen left with the burden of his own duty as clan leader at such a young age and the problems he could see piling in his mind's eye before him. He wasn't ready to return to his home where he would be back to leading his sect with only his uncle who was not happy with Wangji staying with Wuxian. Shufu had been incensed by Wangji not returning to Gusu with them, and it had been exhausting to Xichen to excuse his brother’s behaviour. Lan Qiren was worried as much as Xichen had been before he’d been revealed the truth, having raised his nephews and seeing the way Wangji was slowly drifting away from his family. He'd been mollified by Wangji attending the discussion conference in Qishan, but he’d been in a bad mood upon his return from his talk with Wangji, in another attempt to get the boy to return to Cloud Recesses where his duties awaited him. Xichen felt tired from staying up late and waking early every day so he could finish his work and it was still piling on top of his desk. He needed some time away, he thought. The first person he came across after packing up his belongings and taking up Shuoye , was sect leader Nie. Either his friend was well-versed in reading his moods by now, or his state must have been written on his face, because Mingjue was quick to agree when Xichen asked him to accompany him for a day. Mingjue planned to make a stop on his flight to Qinghe, sending Huisang with his right hand man Nie Zonghui and the disciples while he did.

Together, they left the nightless city behind.

Nie Mingjue told him in good confidence that he knew of a vendor in Lanling who sold excellent if a bit pricey painting pigments. They were meant as a present for Huisang who’d bemoaned his dwindling supply of paint to the elder. Nie Mingjue was not a man of the arts, but he still supported Huisang’s hobby knowing it made the younger one happy. Xichen too understood this kind of brotherly relationship. He’d had it with Wangji once. Showing his support would maybe make Wangji happy too, he thought.

Perusing the market stalls they were near the stairs to jinlintai when it happened right in front of them. Right after the discussion conference, the Jins were celebrating their young master’s birthday. He’d overheard other shoppers talking excitedly over the glamour of the occasion, Jin Guangshan displaying his clan heir like one would a hard won trophy.

He hadn’t meant to look up right that moment, but something had him shift his gaze to watch the gilded doors to jinlintai, seeing golden robed cultivators block the way of a man in commoner’s clothes. There was a slight commotion before suddenly the man was shoved and stumbled, his foot sliping and finally falling from the topmost stairs all the way down. It was sudden enough, shocking him to blink and watch it all play out before his eyes, that he was frozen where he stood. The blue tassel he’d held in his hand fell back onto the clothed wooden surface of the stall, then he unfroze and registered what happened. The Jin cultivator had shoved a civilian down the long flight of stairs. Xichen hastened to the end of the stairs and reached them just as his body rolled in front of him.

He shot a glare at the laughing cultivators in Jin robes. They stopped when they saw the Lan ribbon and cloud patterned expensive robes. He ignored them to help the person to their feet. The man was young and looked no older than him, but as a cultivator his own looks could be deceiving once he reached a certain point with his cultivation. His robes were that of a commoner as he’d rightly guessed earlier from afar, with visible thread but they looked cared for and his skin was soft as he took his hand in his. His features were fair. The cruelness he’d just witnessed was unjust. Seeing bruises bloom on delicate skin had all his protective instincts rearing their head in him.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, noticing the careful way with which the stranger held himself. It got him a nod that was clearly hiding the bruised bones so as to not come across as weak in front of the guards still staring from their high position. So he held a certain measure of pride, despite his otherwise demure stance and deference in the presence of the cultivator before him now.

"I'm fine. This lowly one thanks the exalted young master for assisting him. He shouldn't have to trouble himself with the likes of me."

Xichen thought a few very unpleasant things towards the Jins at the top of the stairs, then wondered briefly what the man meant with ‘the likes of him’. A cultivator should always be in service to the common folk, since it was their job to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Which made these men’s actions despisable, abusing their power like this.

"What they did is unforgivable. It was cruel and undeserved. Your injuries are no laughing matter, and you could’ve been rendered disabled by your fall if you’d hit your spine the wrong way, or hit your head on one of the steps." , he said seriously.

Nie Minjue had been further back so he hadn't noticed until now that Xichen was no longer where he'd last seen him. Now he joined them and saw the commoner at his side. "Who's this?"

As an imposing figure Mingjue towered over the smaller man who bowed gracefully despite the injuries he must have from his tumble down the flight of stairs- There was a line of blood from his temple running down his face and it made his genial smile appear gruesome. A head injury, Xichen thought, which should be seen to by a healer to make sure it wasn’t something serious. If something was broken or ruptured, it could lead to many complications when it wasn’t attended to immediately by an expert in the healing arts.

The man’s voice was deferential, but clear when he spoke again. "This one is called Meng Yao."

Oh , he thought with a sense of foreboding.

Chapter 22: small gestures of kindness

Chapter Text

Chapter XXII

Lan Wangji wasn't used to being treated as someone who was in need of protection. Never in his life had he felt like he was coddled either. Although Lan Huan had been an affectionate older brother, pressing sweets into a child's small hands behind their uncle's back knowing they were A-Zhan's favourites, he hadn’t looked at him like Lan Wangji was made of glass. He wasn't a fragile thing that would break if he breathed too hard.

Wei Ying was at his side, hovering. Grey eyes were trying but failing to hide their worry, and it had led to Jiang Yanli sending him similar glances, without the knowledge of why her adopted brother seemed worried Wangji would fall over the moment he let him out of sight. She, at least, politely didn’t ask.

Wei Ying meant well. Lan Wangji simply tired of being asked the same question over and over again. He was able to walk on his own, Wen Qing's tea helped with any discomfort he'd had before even if it didn't help with his core weakening. The flight from Qishan to Lotus Pier had been more exhausting, but manageable. The chest pains he’d experienced before, in Qishan, were held back by some painkillers Wen Qing had pressed into his hands wordlessly before their departure, knocking on their door and leaving before anyone could tell she’d been there.

Wei Ying's attentions were well meant, but after sometime bordered on being too much for him and leaving him without space to breathe. Yanli saved him unconsciously on her side, asking him to join her one morning.

Now that he was unable to train his sword forms daily, he found himself with a lack of something to do that wouldn't leave him exhausted. The Wen indoctrination was a week away and he felt restless.

The morning was calm, Lan Wangji leaving the warmth of the blankets behind to the displeasure of Wei Ying. The other settled back into his nest of blankets with a grumble of it being too early Lan Zhan! , sleep claiming him quickly again. It was an adorable sight, reminding him of the bunnies he held at home. He wondered if brother took care of them, or if some other disciples visited the back hill. He missed their silent companionship, having become used to meditating in the midst of the small animals.

He closed the door behind him when he readied himself for the day ahead. His feet took him to the kitchens, where Jiang Yanli was at a stove with lotus roots and spices laid out ready for cooking. She must have heard him enter, turning around and greeting him a good morning.

"Xianxian will be pleasantly surprised. He adores my soup. It was the first thing he ate when father brought him here."

"He told me he hadn't tasted anything like it before." Wangji agreed. She let out a laugh, soft like a breeze. "Did he? I'm not even surprised. Now let me show you the secret to making lotus and pork rib soup. I'm always telling them it's nothing special, but A-Cheng and A-Xian would protest it, saying, ‘shijie makes the best soup’."

The latter was said with an air of playful long-sufferance, like she knew her brothers’ opinions were clearly biased in regards to her. Wangji tilted his head, saying, “It is the thought behind it which they appreciate then.”

“It’s also kind of a Yunmeng speciality,” she said, motioning for him to take a place at the stove.

She regarded him with childhood tales while he was given a kitchen knife and lotus roots and ordered to first peel them and then chop them evenly into large chunks. He followed her directions precisely, finding the actions to be meditative. He and his brother had been taught how to sustain themselves on night hunts, but the way Jiang Yanli moved through the kitchen to put the soaked pork bones and chopped ginger together into the pot spoke of more enjoyment in it than he'd felt when learning the skill.

She must have noticed his prolonged stare, taking the chopped roots and adding them to the pot for the soup. "I was told this was a task not suited for a young lady of a prestigious sect to have as a pastime."

“...”

Yanli hadn't given him any indication on how to respond to her. Before he could, she launched into a retelling of her brothers trying her culinary tries, and hiding their expressions of disgust when she failed the recipe, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Especially Jiang Wanyin had been exceedingly bad at hiding his expression from her when she’d presented them with one of her unsuccessful attempts at baking. He let himself be immersed in her stories, while cutting through the remaining lotus roots. She kindly indulged him with tales of Wei Ying, and he couldn't help missing this closeness, which he found with the elder Jiang sibling, with his brother.

He set down the knife harder than he had intended, and gave the last cuts of lotus root to Yanli. There wasn't much to do, he found. Jiang Yanli added the remaining spices and the water. She brought the soup to a boil and occasionally stirred the soup. It wasn't long before he was handed a bowl of hot broth and a spoon, the aroma wafting to his nose. In deference to him, Yanli had added a lot less spice, knowing how he wasn't used to her brothers' tolerance for it. He was grateful for her forethought. The first spoonful of broth was nearly too hot but it tasted good to him, giving her a nod of appreciation. She smiled, preparing the soup to transport outside in a basket with bowls and spoons. After she'd kindly shown him how to cook this dish, he felt he should carry the basket. His insistent stare upon her words of protest was met with a genial smile as she relented to his wishes.

Jiang Wanyin was coming their way, when they made it halfway out the kitchen and to the siblings' favoured pavilion. The air was humid, warmer than Gusu to Lan Wangji who set down the basket. In his current state the basket wasn't exactly heavy, but he felt the weight as he put it down, relieved of it now. It was concerning.

"...and mother smiled at me, jiejie. She smiled. Saying, I should give thoughts to my own 'marital prospects'. You did this, Wuxian. You did this to me," he listened to the end of their conversation. Wei Ying's laugh rang out over the calm lotus lakes, followed by his shidi's hissed threats to break his legs if he dared to hold his wedding before Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. He turned to see Wei Ying evade Jiang Wanyin's brotherly punch to the shoulder, stepping lightly over to him with eyes sparkling with joy.

"You weren't there when I woke up," he pouted. Jiang Yanli was distributing the soup, and Wanyin roughly pulled the elder down to sit. Wei Ying continued, undeterred in his attention on Lan Wangji, "I was so lonely, Lan Zhan. The bed was very cold without you there to warm me."

The screech Wanyin let out was wholly unwarranted, Wangji thought. "You sleep together?!"

"Well, of course? Where else would he sleep?" Wei Ying asked.

"The f*cking guest quarters," Wanyin answered deadpan, "you idiot. I thought you… you know. Did you?"

The question had him blushing, while Wei Ying didn't seem to get it at first, to his shidi's great frustration and mortification. "Did we what?" Wei Ying asked, which led to Wanyin shifting where he sat, fiddling with the spoon he'd been handed. He made vague motions to… articulate his meaning aware of their company. "You know! What am I supposed to think by what you said?! The other kind of sleeping together," he said in a harsh whisper that still could be heard where Wangji sat blushing up to his ears, knowing exactly what Wanyin alluded to with the elegance of a brick wall.

Wei Ying, finally, got it. His cheeks bloomed the colour of a lovely blush, eyes growing round as he let out a small, "Eh?"

He decided to save him from answering, probably by saying something along the lines of 'yeah, Jiang Cheng, we spent some time alone as rogue cultivators and had mind-blowing sex, not that I thought you'd ask for details, really. Oh, and we met my grandmaster. She's a very nice person, maybe we should visit her!' – he ladled some soup into a bowl and pressed it into Wei Ying's hands.

"I made soup for you. I apologise for not telling Wei Ying where I was going. It was meant as a surprise.", he said. The apology had the desired effect of shifting Wanyin's attention back to the meal.

"Shijie? Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying looked between them, not sure who to ask. Or not sure what to ask.

He settled on his beloved.

"You. Cooked. This. For me?"

Jiang Yanli giggled at her brother's behaviour, finding it endearing to see him so flustered by Lan Wangji's actions. "Lan-er-gongzi asked me about the recipe, and I told him I would show him how to make lotus rib and pork bone soup. I recall he liked it when we were in Cloud Recesses too."

"Mmh."

At his admission, arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight in a hug from the side, Wei Ying's hair tickling him as Wei Ying burrowed his head in his shoulder. "Lan Zhan, you can't just do this and think I'll be fine! My poor heart, your Wei Ying is going to die at this rate, what will you do without me?"

"Stop your theatrics, Wuxian, and eat that soup before it gets cold," Wanyin said, but his voice held less bite, likely affected as his sister by seeing Wei Wuxian stumped at being courted by Lan Wangji.

—

Xichen smiled, even though he felt sick at it. "I am certain he has potential," he said, thinking of the yet innocent thirst for knowledge, the ability to remember things read only once, the ear for music too. He didn’t think about the way these skills were used in another reality to his, instead watching his passenger look around with hidden curiosity.

Uncle, looking at him for one long and uncomfortable moment, agrees to evaluate the other boy. If he were asked about his decision, Lan Xichen had no straight answer to give. He'd panicked, faced with his failures as a brother and as a leader. If Meng Yao hadn't been as agreeable with everything so far, this could've been a kidnapping. Immortals, the boy had stepped on a flying sword at the command of a stranger! Between Mingjue and him, he was the less intimidating cultivator, and he had just helped him. Still . Lan Xichen thinks there must be at least five rules applying to it, stating not to drag a civilian off on your sword like that. Or of said civilian docily following you.

He can't remember them as he was standing in front of the pavilion, waiting for shufu to be done in carefully examining Men Yao's aptitude as a disciple. They were done after a shichen, thankfully. Lan Qiren tells Xichen of his conclusion, “He’s probably never going to overcome the delay in his practical skills, but on the theoretical side, his quick mind is second to none. He’ll be a pleasure to teach indeed.”

Perhaps, with Cloud Recesses as an influence, Meng Yao would become another man entirely.

Perhaps, Xichen had just doomed them all.

Chapter 23: one false step leads to the end

Chapter Text

Chapter XXIII

“‘The quintessence of the Wen clan’, huh? What sh*t are they wanting us to learn?!”

“Seems all kinds of mindless drivel can become quotes.” Wei Wuxian agreed, having read through it in his prior life. It hadn’t been terribly riveting. It still wasn't. He yawned as he leafed through it, to maintain appearances.

They’d been made to hand in their swords earlier. He'd gotten away with 'forgetting' Suibian back at Lotus Pier. Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng had to hand over theirs though. Jin Zixuan had at first refused and only Mianmian’s quick acting had saved him. She was not only brave, but also a strong cultivator with more sense in her than most. It seemed like these things were seen by few people, though, just for her being a woman. Wei Wuxian shook his head at the antiquated views of the cultivation world. He didn’t understand why it mattered. Man, woman, it didn’t influence how good someone was at cultivation. Madame Yu was fearsome and nobody dared speak badly about her cultivational prowess in relation to her being a woman.

He heard his shidi stand up and be blocked at the door by the Wen disciples standing guard. Then his brother’s voice, loud in their shared quarters, as he demanded, “Are we being treated as humans or farm animals?!”

The next day dawned with the Wen disciples herding them to the same plaza. Breakfast had been very sparse, with the Wen clan’s intention of starving them probably. If they didn’t die from having to listen to Wen Chao’s grating voice. The second young master of Qishan Wen was lounging on his throne at the steps to nightless city, looking down on the assembled sect heirs. He called out for someone to step forward and recite from the Quintessence of Qishan Wen they’d handed out yesterday. When none stepped forward, he called on Lan Zhan, him and the peaco*ck. Wei Wuxian waited for the two others to deny doing it, before saying, “I’ll do it.”

Wen Chao’s words to him were meant to be discouraging and intimidating, like he would fear punishment from Wen Chao of all people. His intelligence could be measured with a teacup.

Wei Wuxian stepped forward, stretching his limbs in display to prolong the attention on him and annoy the hell out of Wen Chao.

“Are you going to do it or not?” Wen Chao asked.

“Alright, alright. What’s the hurry?” he cleared his throat, “Listen carefully.”

Then he started. But not on the Wen clan’s rules.

“Wei Wuxian. How dare you recitate Lan clan’s principles here in Qishan?! Do you have a death wish?”

“Is that right? I must have got it wrong. I apologize.” he answered, hitting himself lightly with the scroll of Wen doctrine, glancing at Jiang Cheng who hid his amusem*nt behind a scandalized scowl. “I’ll try again, here you go.”

“Shut up!” Wen Chao roared, fed up with his antics.

Following the same pattern of last time around, Wei Wuxian found himself back in the vegetable garden shoveling manure with Jin Zixuan who sent him death glares only half as effective with his cloth covered nose, and Lan Zhan who thankfully didn’t stumble around on a broken leg. He could say with certainty, he hadn’t missed this part.

The decision to let things play out the same had come to him after they realized what the price for changing events was. After Lan Zhan had collapsed again in Wei Wuxian’s room in Lotus Pier, they suspected a pattern to it. It was roughly a month before indoctrination, when it happened, around the same time as the attack on Cloud Recesses. No injuries from defending his home, a letter from zewu-jun confirming that Cloud Recesses still stood this time. The youngest disciples and non-combatants had been evacuated, the buildings all made fireproof by the new talismans Wei Wuxian had given zewu-jun. The barrier had held, and Wen Xu’s attack could be beaten back by the Lan, although not without casualties on their side either. Lan Zhan had sent a letter back with his intention to go to the Wen indoctrination, should they send a summons to Cloud Recesses. He’d been forced to go and spent a month as a hostage alone in Nightless City last time.

This was all they’d heard from zewu-jun, save for another messenger bringing the summons for a young disciple of the main families and twenty disciples to go to Nightless City.

Now he followed Lan Zhan, watching him carry the yoke on his shoulders with barely noticeable strain. It was a slight tenseness between his brows, the way he gripped the yoke as if it would unbalance him if he stepped wrong. It wasn’t noticeable, if you didn’t know how to spot the signs.

They’d followed the way things unfolded in the hope to stave off the effects of changing too much and it sending Lan Zhan into qi deviating. Wen Qing may not know what was sucking the spiritual energy out of the cultivator, but she was a medical genius and had more experience on golden cores than other known persons in her field. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t risk Lan Zhan’s life. Nor his core. He would give his own in a heartbeat if he thought it would help Lan Zhan, but knew this was something Lan Zhan would never forgive him for. He would give it away anyway if he thought it could help him, but Wen Qing had said she couldn’t predict what would happen if the strain on Lan Zhan’s core became too much. She’d warned them of a possible qi deviation and given them remedies to deal with the pain and the constant fatigue, but nothing she had was meant for long term use. Lan Zhan’s spiritual energy was still being depleted to maintain some obscure measurement as a price to their changes in the timeline.

—

“Listen, master Wen. You should at least tell us what we’re here hunting for.” Jin Zixuan said, irritated from marching through dense forests and muddy swamps all day while having to bear with Wen Chao and his terrible mistress Wang Lingjiao. Wei Wuxian could get behind that, feeling contempt at seeing that bitch again.

She was wrapped around Wen Chao's neck, simpering at him for attention. Some paces further away, but still in reach in case of protecting his master and mistress, Wen Zhuliu walked along. He held no indication of being as disgusted by the couple as Wei Wuxian, but he supposed he had to be. It was hard not to feel anything by the display.

They stumbled along in the darkness, the torches held by the Wen cultivators behind the group of sect disciples spending minimal light for those at the front. He cursed Wen Chao for being a pretentious prick, and heard Jin Zixuan issue some thinly veiled insult at Wen Chao again.

“What are you looking for? Hurry up!” Wen Chao barked, leading to Jiang Cheng muttering under his breath about those f*cking Wen dogs.

The path shifted again around a bend, before they all halted when they came to a wide cave. The underground pool was still, and pitch black in the dim lighting. Hiding, he knew, the tortoise of slaughter in its depths – until Wen Chao would be stupid enough to wake it up.

Wang Lingjiao was the one who suggested using Mianmian as bait for the beast. She had of course noticed the leery looks her lover had sent towards the girl. Jin Zixuan who was at least a decent guy, protected her from Wen Chao’s men and even his own disciples as one tried to grab her after Wen Chao issued his threat to leave them there to rot if they didn’t obey.

“A disciple like you, shameful! What a disgrace for Jin clan,” Jin Zixuan spat at the disciple lying groaning on his back from the hit.

Seeing their disobedience as an act of rebellion, the situation escalated – as Wei Wuxian knew it would. Wen Chao told his men to attack. Wei Wuxian saw them draw their swords. Their side had none. He dodged the first cultivator, and blocked the second one’s sword. Grabbing onto the cultivator’s wrist in one fluid move, he used his attacker’s momentum to use his sword to block another attack from the left, before sending the man to the ground.

He dodged and weaved through attacks, using light steps to evade the blades meant for his throat, until he took a blade off a cultivator to defend with that.

Wen Chao’s voice could be heard over the dim of battle around him. “You shall all be executed! Scum!”

Slitting a man’s throat, Wei Wuxian turned around, distancing himself from the fighting cultivators all around him. “You’re right,” he said, “Those who count on their clan and do evil, shall all be executed.”

“What did you say?”

“You want me to repeat,” he asked, drawing nearer and having Wen Chao also take a step forward. Good, he thought, planning his next steps in his mind. It hadn’t taken much last time around to get the other cultivator riled up to become sloppy in his defense. “Then I’ll repeat. Those who count on their clan and do evil shall be executed. Not only to be executed, but also decapitated and reviled by the people to warn future generations.”

“Wei Wuxian! What nonsense are you sprouting?”

He smiled, “Nonsense? Those are the words of your forefather, the great great great Wen Mao. Eh, what’s the crime for insulting the Wen clan’s gentry? It should be execution without sentence, should it not?”

He laughed, “Right?”

Looking Wen Chao in the eye, feeling the resentment in this cave crawling towards him as if drawn, he said, “You can go die now.”

Wen Chao drew his blade with a cry of rage. He’d predicted his attack and evaded the sword coming down, gliding to the side. In one quick move he had Wen Chao with his own sword at his throat. He backed up until he was nearly stepping with his feet into the pool.

“Stop there!” he shouted and saw the fight coming to a halt as more and more noticed the situation. “Don’t move, or I’ll let some blood out of your young master.”

Wen Chao echoed the words for his men to stand down. Wei Wuxian ignored his useless threats, looking for familiar white robes. Lan Zhan stood, a bit winded, dark blood on his sleeve where he must have failed to block a hit from a sword. Wen Chao’s high pitched shouts and the tense grip of the Wen cultivators on their swords told him to lower the blade again, having unconsciously tightened his grip on it. A trickle of blood ran down Wen Chao’s throat. From Wen Chao’s whimpering alone you’d think he’d been beheaded.

This time, he didn’t stand on the tortoise’s shell and still someone’s blood must have run into the water, for the only forewarning they got was the trembling of the ground, before a giant head emerged from the pool. Its long neck was covered in scales, the arrows bouncing off without even scratching it. In his arms Wen Chao let out an ear-splitting screech for Wen Zhuliu to come and save him. It drew the xuanwu’s attention to them and Wei Wuxian looked into its eyes that had the same colour as freshly spilled blood.

—

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. Are you trying to match with me?” he asked, putting a generous amount of the healing salve he’d smuggled with him through a qiankun pouch sewn into his robes on the blistering burn on Lan Zhan’s chest. Under his robes, he had the exact same burn, although it was long healed.

“She will remember me now.” Lan Zhan said, hissing as Wei Ying pressed the salve into the burn somewhat forcefully at the words. Wei Wuxian laughed, “How does no one believe me when I tell them, you’re funny?”

“I’m not.”

“Fuddy-duddy. I try to be responsible, and you’re off saving young maidens. I could become jealous, you know. What am I gonna do?” He screwed the lid back on the container and put it back into his robe sleeve where the seam was ripped open to access the qiankun pouch he’d put there. It had been a finicky thing, but it paid off now, stuck for a week inside xuanwu cave.

“I have some supplies this time, and medicine just in case. We should be fine, I guess. Beside the burn and your core, we’re in a better state than last time. I’ll go start a fire, get some rest first, before we fight that overgrown turtle again.”

“Mmh.”

—

They had a small problem.

Lan Zhan’s arm strength was still above average and counted as truly considerable, but he no longer possessed the endurance of a strong cultivator, who could hold a thrashing tortoise of slaughter to strangulate it with chord assassination. They thought of other ways to kill it, and came up with nothing that he was certain would work under their circ*mstances. Lan Zhan was weakened, and Wei Wuxian was unwilling to allow him to use more spiritual energy than he could give without exhausting himself in the process. The only weapon they had were the bows and arrows strewn across the ground of the cave, between the corpses of left behind cultivators.

He felt for the resentment from earlier. It came to him in a thick cloud, cold and with a will of its own unlike spiritual energy which was warm and malleable. He bent it to his will, not listening to the seductive whisperings of revenge, the empty promises of power. Lan Zhan gripped his arm as he stood. “No,” he whispered, sensing what he was about to do. He shook the hand off gently, gazing into Lan Zhan’s eyes. They were the colour of a golden core in the shine of the fire, he thought.

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing now, Lan Zhan. I’ve been inexperienced and desperate and without my core when I invented demonic cultivation, but it doesn’t hurt me now to use it.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes were filled with trust as he whispered, “Wei Ying.” He seemed conflicted, still unwilling to let him go. “Let me help. Don’t go alone.”

The warmth in his chest wasn’t from the fire. He leant forward, thinking of another time when they’d been this close inside this same cave, alone. He should have done this then, he thought, and met Lan Zhan’s lips in a kiss. Lan Zhan kissed back, lips moving against his own and deepening it. An arm was slung over him to draw him nearer. He could hear Lan Zhan’s ragged breathing, as if he’d flown all day without pause on Bichen. He smelled his sandalwood incense on him, and let himself be kissed breathless by the other.

Then they parted, but didn’t let go of each other. Wei Wuxian didn’t want to ever let go, but as he reopened his eyes, his senses opening back to the cave, he slowly detangled himself from Lan Zhan who looked mournfully at him. They had a xuanwu to kill, he reminded himself.

Drawing on the resentment again, he began reconstructing his plan. Lan Zhan stood, determination written into his expression. Wei Ying loved him.

“Let’s go.”, he said.

—

It was almost too easy, he thought, using the resentful energy of its victims to kill the fake xuanwu. It had eaten maybe thousands of humans, also cultivators, and the fresh carnage happening on the shore just added to it. The whole cave and underground pool was saturated in the resentment of countless victims, festering for years until he came along to draw on it. The burial mounds’ resentment had been wild and uncontrollable, hard to tame. The stygian tiger seal had given him artificial control over it, but it had its drawback in harming the user. The resentment he wielded here was young in comparison, eager to be used by him to fulfill the wishes of its dead.

He let it burst out of the tortoise’s shell from the inside, Lan Zhan holding it in place for him with his makeshift guqin string’s. He’d used a trickle of the energy to lure the beast out of the pool, catching it in the net of Lan Zhan’s trap. Lan Zhan grunted from the strain of holding it in place, but didn’t let go, even when the string must cut into the skin of his hands.

The tortoise let out ear splitting noise, before it sank down having died from being torn open by resentful energy fueling the half eaten corpses inside its stomach.

He dispersed the resentful energy, seeing Lan Zhan fall out the corner of his eye. He hastened to the other’s side, catching him. He cursed at himself, for allowing this deviation in their plan. Had he just changed too much again? Were they doomed to repeat history like this, if he didn’t want Lan Zhan to lose his core, or his life?

“I can walk,” Lan Zhan murmured.

“Like hell you can,” he shot back, dragging Lan Zhan back to where they’d started a fire earlier. It had gone out without enough dry wood to fuel the flame. He would need to get more. They could use the wooden bows from the Wen archers.

“The sword.”

He sat Lan Zhan down against the cave wall, seeing colour return to his usually pale face which had turned ashen for a moment there. “I’ll get it later. Maybe. I actually think it’s better to just leave it here. I won’t forge another tiger seal ever again. It brought only strife to me and all I sought to protect.”

He’d used it to win the war for them, but he would find another way this time. Looking back at Lan Zhan, he wondered if he needed to get the sword, to follow the previous timeline to ensure he’d not get worse than he was now. He hated himself a bit for thinking of how he could save Lotus Pier without it. Regretting his wish impacting Lan Zhan, but hating that he couldn’t regret his wish to return.

The wood from the bows was easy to gather now the tortoise was dead, so he took what he needed for their stay here and quickly returned to Lan Zhan. He used a small amount of his spiritual energy to light the fire anew.

“If it hurts Wei Ying, he shouldn’t use it.”

He sighed. “And if I don’t use it? It will hurt you. I know the limits of using the tiger seal. What I don't know is how much we’re allowed to change before this breaks your core.”

He settled beside Lan Zhan, staring into the reignited fire. The air inside the cave was cold, his core warming him. He huddled closer to the other, knowing he needed the additional warmth since he couldn’t stay warm through his core himself. The Lan cultivator was shivering and trying to hide that he was actually freezing. Wei Wuxian shuffled out of his outer robes, draping them over his zhiji in an attempt to warm him up. He still had his red inner robe and didn’t mind the chill as much. Lan Zhan was so terribly vulnerable he thought. Not defenseless, never. Just a lot more easily hurt nowadays. It was scary, he thought. Wanting to pack Lan Zhan away, bundled up in as many robes as he could find. He snorted at his own silly thoughts. If he could, he would get a donkey, put Lan Zhan on top and just walk away from all their problems. Visit his grandmaster on top of her mountain, maybe to stay. It was a nice daydream, although he knew he would never stay in one place for long. They hadn’t stayed in a time where they could have lived this life. Much less staying all his life on top of a mountain in seclusion to the rest of the world.

He stared into the fire, feeling Lan Zhan nod off, his head leaning on his shoulder. Listening to Lan Zhan’s breathing evening out in his sleep, he waited for Jiang Cheng to come rescue them.

It took five days before he heard his shidi’s voice calling for them from an opening above.

The sword stayed at the bottom of the lake.

Chapter 24: taking the fall

Chapter Text

Chapter XXIV

Shufu had held his tongue for longer than Xichen actually thought it would take before he was inevitably questioned on Wangji’s whereabouts – or more specifically his return, since his location wasn’t a secret. He hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze tired when he answered trying not to let his true emotions slip through the cracks of his mask.

“Wangji is allowed his freedom, shufu.”

“Freedom is one thing, Xichen. His neglect of his duties, another. The elders are starting to ask questions,” Lan Qiren said. Ah, of course. When had the clan elders ever stayed out of the main family’s business, he thought.

Pleasantly, he said, “May I remind them, Wangji has gone through some traumatic events before the guest lectures started, that he’s still recovering from.”

The reminder of Wangji’s disappearance and miraculous return sent his uncle into a deep silence. He waited patiently for him to speak.

“He hasn’t confided in us.” Lan Qiren spoke, watching his nephew who went still, looking straight ahead. “Xichen. Has Wangji spoken to you?”

Xichen watched out over the courtyard. It was late. He hadn’T been sleeping well lately, but the late hour just short of bed time, it was always the most peaceful hour he thought.

He shook his head slowly, watching the fall of snow. After the attack by Wen Xu, he’d realized the true implications of what his brother had been through. He’d fought this war, and would have to fight in it again. He’d seen these buildings burn. Xichen with his foreknowledge, had done everything to be prepared, and they had been when Wen Yu came, his cold mockery falling from his lips and arrows of fire raining down on them. They had to bury their dead, but they hadn’t done it in the ashes of their burnt down halls. He was oh so grateful for that.

“Wangji,” he said, slowly, “shared his memories with me. I swore not to reveal what I’d seen, shufu.”

Lan Qiren didn’t seem happy by that, but accepted it. His hand folded behind his back, he stood beside his nephew. It was Xichen who decided to change the topic, to address something which had been plaguing him these last few weeks.

“...I fear I might be too trusting, too honest to some. And become manipulating and dishonest to those who I should be honest with. Shufu, you taught me to follow the Lan principles. But can I follow them as a sect leader, when the rest of the world doesn’t follow those rules?” he asked, his heart hoping for an answer from the parental figure in his life. Their uncle had raised him and Wangji, having been strict with them. His memories of his mother were always going to be of a gentle, warm, and comforting figure. He recalled less memories of his father, Qingheng-jun. Once when he received his courtesy name. Another, when he’d followed his uncle as a child. It was more of a memory of watching his uncle standing outside a small secluded house, talking with a raised voice to the door. Spring had taken over Cloud Recesses and painted everything in vivid colours. Uncle had stood on the porch like a single snowdrop, expression hard as he’d talked to the door until he’d left with his parting words that had been harsh but Xichen couldn’t remember, the exact wording blurring in his mind over the years. He’d never told uncle he followed him that day.

“It is easy to follow the Lan principles inside a controlled environment, like at Cloud Recesses. The true hardship comes with following them while outside of it. Your position as sect leader comes with its own hardships, Xichen. I won’t deny this. Over the years as acting sect leader, I’ve accepted that our way of living isn’t always permissible when dealing with the likes of men like Jin Guangshan.”

He listened to his uncle, and nodded at the mention of the Jin sect leader. Jin Guangshan was someone who would follow greed before seeking truth.

“Shufu,” he began, “I thank you for your advice.” He gave a small bow, as he was taught when given wisdom from an elder. When he rose again, he felt his uncle’s hands on his shoulder. He looked up, to see Lan Qiren’s normally severe expression soften. Not many got to see this side of the man, since he only showed it to his nephews. Even then, it wasn’t often.

“I trust you to find your way, Xichen.”, he said.

—

Touching down, Lan Xichen took a deep breath to steel himself, before he went in. He knew he’d come unannounced, along with a group of his disciples. So the first thing he had to do was formally ask for an audience with Jiang Fengmian, before he went to see Wangji.

Do not argue, for it doesn’t matter who wins.

He had to talk to Wangji. Or they would never talk at all, he feared.

Sect leader Jiang was surprised, but his general peaceful nature led to him holding no slight against Lan Xichen, especially when he mentioned his worry over his brother after hearing of what happened during the Wen indoctrination camp. It wasn’t even a lie. He spoke to Jiang Fengmian over his suspicions of Wen Ruohan’s next target being Lotus Pier, having dared to attack Cloud Recesses and making a move on the smaller sects. He could see how this wasn’t what the other sect leader had hoped to hear, but also the resigned acceptance of it. They were both unwilling to bring their sects into a war, but Xichen knew from the shared memories with his brother, there was no way to prevent what had already started.

“Let’s no longer hold you off, Lan-zhongzu. You’re here after all to lay worries to rest and visit your brother. He should be currently with Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.”

“I thank Jiang-zhonzu, despite my impolite intrusion today. If time isn't of the essence these days, I would have sent a letter first.”

Jiang Fengmian waved him off. “It is forgiven.”

—

Wangji, when noticing him, grows still. He has deep circles beneath his eyes, his shoulders slightly bowed speaking of deep exhaustion. He was paler than Xichen remembered him to be in Qishan. In his eyes, he could see suspicion and distrust. He wished to erase these feelings from Wangji’s eyes, to hold his brother in his arms and fret over him, but he couldn’t. He was too late for that.

No.

He had to get himself back together and try. And try again. He’d let Wangji down, once. Broken promises and deceit. He wouldn’t be that person, he swore. He had to begin somewhere.

“Wangji,” he said. And stopped. He had no idea what to say now he was here. All his carefully laid plans became meaningless. He swallowed. How have you been? Are you sleeping enough? You look like you haven’t…

“I’m not leaving Wei Ying.”

The words had him widen his eyes, was this what Wangji thought? That he would, what? Force him to return? Quickly, he shook his head, “No, of course not. I wouldn’t. Wangji, I…”

Talking was hard, he could see why it seemed like a chore to Wangji. If it was like this, always, for his younger brother, he could sympathize with the aversion to using words. They were like boulders, sitting in his stomach and transforming into thorns crawling up his throat as he coaxed them out.

“I met Meng Yao.”, tumbled out of his mouth, which was the opposite of what he wanted to say. The words were like a flare going off. The effect was instantaneous. Wangji flinched back, eyes widening, hand grasping for Bichen. There was a look of such fear in his eyes, it tore at his heart. He felt like he’d just damned himself ten times over.

“Wangji, no- listen, I-”

“Where is he?”

“I brought him to Cloud Recesses,” he admitted.

His brother went completely still. His voice was dead, as he said, “Get lost.”

Lan Xichen’s will shattered upon hearing these words, watching Lan Wangji retreat like a wounded animal.

—

Wangji stalked away. He had no clear destination in mind, other than to bring as much space between himself and his brother as possible. Hearing of that man living inside Cloud Recesses, being brought there by Xichen, as if he hadn’t poisoned his mind and blinded him to the truth, why would you bring him there?! It was too much. Too much. He had learned nothing. Seeing Lan Xichen show guilt, even regret over how he’d ordered his brother whipped, Wei Ying’s execution, he had hoped, even while he’d been paralized by his fear to trust the other. He shouldn’t have let himself hope. Lan Xichen would return to his mistakes.

He found himself back inside the stone garden. It was peaceful and seemingly out of place for Lotus Pier which normally brimmed with life, warm rosewood and a different atmosphere to the clear set lines of the path through the stones. This garden held a meditative air, reminding him of Cloud Recesses, and it calmed him down from his panic earlier. He felt like he could breathe again, and slowly he realized his reaction had been rash and childish. He hadn’t even heard his brother out. It was hard not to overlay his experiences with his brother with those of the future, since they were different. But seeing glimpses of the future brought on fear in his heart.

He walked back to where Wei Ying and Wanyin had been shooting kites with the younger disciples, both Jinag disciples setting out to get the kites back, before his brother had shown up and met him alone.

Lan Wangji was met not with his brother, but with Wang Lingjiao, holding a yellow cyclops painted kite. Wei Ying’s mind was carefully blank, but he could read his murderous intent from where he stood.

The verbal match of her against Madame Yu was intense to watch. Wang Lingjiao’s lies were met with cold cutting replies, cutting away her weak arguments and making it clear whose domain she’d intruded upon. Still, Madame Yu held the peace, until Wang Lingjiao demanded her price. Wei Ying’s hand.

“No,” he stated, at the same time as sect leader Jiang tried to argue, “Clearly, young master Wen could be appeased with a less drastic punishment,”

“Silence!” Madame Yu hissed, glaring at her husband. Stroking the ring on her finger, Zidian let out a few sparks of electricity. Quicker than anyone could move, she had it flying through the air in an arc, whip striking Wei Ying who flew back, crashing into a table. The taböe broke under his weight. He rushed to Wei Ying, who was half sitting up already, lips pressed together. The darkness around him was drawn to his figure, no one else having yet noticed how it behaved. He picked up her steps towards Wei Ying who didn’t move, prompting him from stepping in. He stood before Wei Ying, defiant. Whatever Wei Ying thought letting things play out the same would bring, he wasn’t going to step aside. Not again. He wouldn’t let him down.

Jiang Fengmian hadn’t stepped in, the look in his eyes an empty apology to Wangji who felt anger at his unwillingness to step in while watching his wife whip his adopted son.

Wang Lingjiao clapped, praising Madame Yu and mentioning their plans of creating supervisory offices in the sects. It stopped Madame Yu in her step, turning back to the lady of Wen Chao, asking quietly, “A supervisory office?”

Wang Lingjiao’s guards had no chance against the handmaidens, quickly killing them off. Flanking their mistress, Madame Yu was an intimidating sight kicking the other woman around, telling her how low she was in her social standing. Even her husband had turned a bit pale at how fiere his wife could be.

Someone broke through the doors, arousing their attention. Wei Ying gasped out a warning. “It’s Wen Zhuliu!” He got back on his feet, the one whip lashing Lan Wang Ji was too slow to prevent from happening must pull the skin and muscle on his back.

Wang Lingjiao got to the doors before she was caught by him, borrowed sword flying out of its sheath in an arc and cutting across her back. He wished he had Bichen, since manipulating non-spiritual weapons was quickly draining him. She let out a scream of pain and fell down the steps, lying sobbing for her master outside in the courtyard. The use of his qi had him gulp for air,and cost him precious moments before he walked over to silence her. She was quicker than him. Taking out a flare, she shot it in the sky. The Wen emblem burned in the darkening sky.

Wei Ying was by his side in a flash, blocking the blade of Wen Zhuliu. “Damn it Lan Zhan! I told you not to-” he shouted, before he engaged the core melting hand in a fight.

He didn’t have the breath left to answer, and instead watched worriedly as Wei Ying was dealing with Wen Zhuliu, fighting him, but his blows were held carefully back, never deadly. He was still set on protecting Lan Wangji.

It was a dangerous move he was going to do, but he waited for an opening in the fight, the blade in his hand weighing down his arm, his lungs burning. He could almost feel the time counting down for himself, as the world around changed from its set path.

Then he spotted it. His spiritless sword sang, deadly, as it buried itself with a crunch deep in Wen Zhulio’s chest. The man’s gasp of shock was wet with blood.

Around them, time seemed to stand still.

He had done too much this time, he knew. Killing Wen Zhuliu had felt like a rattle through the timelines, dissolving all ties to the original time they came from and the prize this time would be steep. He had known this. And still he wasn’t regretting doing what he could to make sure Wei Ying would not lose his family.

Lan Wangji gasped through another wave of pain. He stumbled. His hands let go of the sword. By now, the disciples of Yunmeng were defending their home from the invading Wen forces, who’d lain in wait not far from Lotus Pier.

Hands caught him when he fell, his ears picking up the worried shouts of Xichen. Despite everything, he found comfort in his brother’s hold. Wangji hadn’t seen him join the battle, but he must have when he’d heard the commotion. He was overheating, gasping for air to find some relief from the pain burning through his chest. There was blood welling up in his mouth and he could taste iron. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, and couldn’t gather enough thoughts together to comfort his quickly panicking brother who had no idea what was going on.

His voice died before he could bring his lips to form words, and he felt the encroaching darkness, familiar to him now after having experienced it before. The way his senses narrowed down before he lost them completely, left with the burning pain of his core breaking and splintering. His meridians on fire, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His last thoughts were of Wei Ying.

—

Wei Wuxian broke, along with Lan Wangji’s core. He watched his zhiji grasp his robes in pain, a line of blood flowing down his chin as he collapsed after slaying Wen Zhuliu. Everything else after this was a blur. He couldn’t avert his eyes from the downed figure of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, who’d seemed strong to him, in their days exploring the jianghu. Lan Zhan loved him unconditionally when people always expected him to give something back for their love, their admiration, their friendship. Never had he been loved without being expected to give something of himself to be loved.

Lan Zhan who’d just traded his own life for the lives of Lotus Pier, despite Wei Ying telling him not to intervene. Not to change anything.

Lan Zhan had killed the core melting hand. Jiang Cheng would never lose his core now.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered. Something wet ran down his cheeks. His eyes burned. His sight of Lan Zhan blurred. Fury filled him. They would pay for this.

He raised Chenqing to his lips, and played. With eyes flaring red, the Yiling Patriarch brought hell upon those who’d invaded Lotus Pier. He drowned them in the lakes, slitting their throats with the resentful energy raised by the battle, corroding their insides until they screamed for death to take them. Nothing would be enough. His anchor, the person able to bring him back from the brink, was dead.

—

Finding himself back here, he wondered if his last moments, experiencing the pain of his core tearing itself apart from the strain of holding onto two realities had been becoming too much, he wondered if he was dead. It would be the second time he experienced death. Lan Wangji didn’t fear death, for it brought relief from the pain of the process of dying. He held more regret over leaving behind the people who’d mourn him.

It seems you’ve accomplished your goal, changing the fates of many. But you aren’t satisfied with the chance you got, I sense. Tell me, haven’t I given you more than one chance already?

Wangji argued, Why give us this chance at all, if only to rob us of this life?

It’s not my decision on what the price for your hearts’ desire would be. The universe itself deems the sacrifice made, I only offer the means. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

He thought he understood what she tried to say. It didn’t make it better. They’d all made their choices in this. Wei Ying will live? Will he have his family?, he asked. If it meant he had to die, Wei Ying would of course mourn him. He wouldn’t be alone, surrounded by his family and he would hopefully move on. They could meet again in their next lives. Lan Wangji would love Wei Ying in all their lives, he knew it in his heart and soul.

...what am I going to do with you? I gave you both a happy life, away from the world who hurt you. If a disembodied voice could sigh, this was what she did then. The sound seemed to travel across the non-existent plane he found himself in. You’re lucky it seems. Your brother won’t let you go.

Xiongzhang?, it escaped his lips against his will. He hadn’t called Lan Xichen xiongzhang since the elder jade had taken a string to Wei Ying’s neck.

Her amusem*nt at his shock was a tangible thing, one he could feel like the sensation of butterfly wings against his skin.

Her voice, for the first time in their acquaintance, sounded almost warm.

The price has been paid, little human. Now, go back to your zhiji. He’s not meant to mourn you in this life.

Lan Wangji woke up.

Chapter 25: the golden glow of dawn

Chapter Text

Chapter XXV

Lan Wangji wakes slowly to the sound of a flute. While other men had feared the sound of Chenqing, for the power it displayed in the hands of its wielder, they’d no knowledge of how once a toddler chewed on it and marked the black bamboo with his teeth. The teeth marks were still there, surviving their jumps through time, not only once but twice.

He wakes to hear their song played in the comfort of Wei Ying’s rooms in Lotus Pier. His awakening didn’t go unnoticed for long. Fingers stilled on the dizi. Chenqing dropped on the blanket, before warm arms engulfed him in a fierce hug that nearly drove the breath out of him. He weakly hugged back.

“You’re awake,” Wei Ying whispered, like he’d battled with his doubt of it not being the case, of clinging to hope, after Lan Wangji had fainted again in his brother’s arms.

There was a rustling of robes, and another pair of arms carefully embracing him. He looked at Lan Xichen, whose eyes held dark circles beneath them, but seemed beyond relieved to see him awake. Slowly, Xichen withdrew, eyes holding a bit of disappointment but also understanding. Wangji didn’t know how to feel.

“What happened?” he asked them, since his own memory after altering the timeline’s events after the massacre of Lotus Pier was mostly filled with pain from qi deviating, or being in a similar state to it. Wei Ying, strangely, wouldn’t meet his eyes when he tried to direct the question at him at first.

“You nearly died, for a moment, before Xichen somehow brought you back. Please, never do that again, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmured.

“I’m here,” he said, hoping Wei Ying would read the promise from his words to stay by his side. Although he gave no exterior sign of the discomfort he felt, Xichen must have picked up on it.

“Wangji, your golden core…” he trailed off, distressed.

Wangji closed his eyes. He’d chosen this himself, but it still hurt to feel the broken pieces inside him, held together by the warm golden energy of his brother who’d poured as much spiritual energy into him as he could to revive Wangji that day. One drop less, and his core would have been lost, the pieces dissolving. Opening the again, with a newfound resolve in his voice he didn’t quite feel, “I’m alright.”

“No you’re not,” Wei Ying sighed, “If not for your cores and energy being nearly the exact same, it wouldn’t have worked. Zewu-jun currently has to stay by your side so your core won’t dissolve into oblivion. I wish we could message Wen Qing, because nobody has any idea on how to stitch the pieces back together.”

The arms around him shook with Wei Ying’s distress. Wangji had wanted to reassure them, but instead he succeeded in doing the opposite.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Recovery was slow, while he no longer was drained by the universe for changing the timeline, his core was still badly held together by nothing more but mere string, as one healer had put it. Hiding one’s illness from everyone somehow meant you were no longer trusted about relaying true information of your wellbeing, so Lan Wangji had to suffer through being poked and prodded and peered at, until everyone was satisfied and assured of his continued improving health.

Lan Xichen was working on his paperwork from Lan Wangji's bedside, which led to two very uncomfortable talks about Wangji’s secrecy on his condition, and on Lan Xichen’s decision to have Meng Yao in cloud recesses. The latter had led to Wangji staring stubbornly at the wall for a quarter shichen before Lan Xichen had excused himself from the room with a sad air around him. Wangji would not excuse his brother's decision to harbor this person in Gusu. It was against the rules to harbor grudges. He willfully ignored that rule. They hadn’t protected Wei Ying when he’d pleaded for his life. They hadn’t protected him when he’d been whipped to the very bone and bled to death on his sect’s grounds. The rules were carved into stone, but not into the heart of the people following them.

Outside, the other sect leaders had come together, to join forces against the opposing Wens. After rumour had spread of Yunmeng Jiang successfully repelling the intruders, and of Wen Chao’s death, the other clans hadn’t needed long to decide and arrived even before all the rubble had been cleared to join the sunshot campaign.

As much as Wei Ying made it clear he didn’t want to be part of the, in his words, boring war meetings, he was repeatedly dragged away by Jiang Wanyin who had to attend as he was heir, but looked just as unhappy about it.

“At least pretend you care about losing us face,” Wanyin said, dragging his brother once again away from Wangji’s bedside. Wei Ying let out a wail, childishly clinging to the blanket, which trailed across the floor as Jiang Wanyin marched him bodily to the door. Lan Xichen was watching this scene bemusedly, witness to their behaviour on separate instances before.

“I’m not even allowed to speak at these meetings! I don’t see a reason why I need to go at all!” Wei Ying wailed, tears in his eyes. They were, of course, fake, or Wangji would have been across the room to help his zhiji. Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes. “Who of us started being a demonic cultivator in the first place?” he hissed, which sombered the other.

“I’m not going to start being a power hungry necromancer if you all leave me out of your sight,” he said.

“Yeah, your future husband would be disappointed in you if you did.”

Lan Wangji would be disappointed if Wei Ying started being a power hungry necromancer. He also trusted Wei Ying not to become a power hungry necromancer, since he knew Wei Ying was moral and good and much too loyal to those he considered his family. Honestly, Wei Ying had no self-preserving instincts, so he needed someone to look out for him.

In the end, Wei Ying did attend most meetings. While he grumbled about it, he seemed worried about sending the wrong message, should he fall back onto his behaviour from last time around.

They were quite lucky, not much information on Wei Ying’s unusual cultivation had made it out of Lotus Pier. What little true information had been passed to outsiders was greatly exaggerated as it travelled from mouth to mouth, painting Wei Ying in a dark but heroic light of single handedly taking on an army with musical cultivation he’d learned in Gusu, to some secret cultivation technique owned by the Jiang, to even sacrifice his soul to a water deity. Using resentful energy, but not actually using the dead had deterred the gossipers from calling it demonic cultivation so far.

Those who’d been there and knew the truth held their tongues. Wei Ying himself had told him one night, what had truly happened that day to him. How he’d felt the timeline shift and snap, and realized Lan Wangji had killed Wen Zhuliu. His anger at the Wens for taking away what he cherished in life once again had drawn the shadows to him, before he even put Chenqing to his lips. There had been a controlled loss of control, of giving into the urge to let go and have the world around him drown in his emotions, his grief, until LAn Xichen’s cry brought him back to his senses. He’d shuddered in Wangji’s arms, having given into his old jaded self as the Yiling Patriarch so easily.

After a week of forced bed rest on him, Wangji was cleared to move around. While he’d been recuperating from his qi deviation, the sunshot campaign had picked up with stronger allies than last time. Jiang and Lan weren’t reduced to the survivors of their sects, while Jin Guangshan in the face of their strength, had aligned himself with them, but still tried to weasel away with doing the bare minimum in the war effort, to the embarrassment of his heir Jin Zixuan.

Still unable to do much to be of use, on his first day of freedom he followed Wei Ying to the training grounds where he taught the other disciples. It was entrancing to watch him wield Suibian, and he found himself itching for his own blade to fight Wei Ying and measure himself against his cultivation strength. The twinge in his chest reminded him that it would be some time away still, for him to be able to have that spar. He couldn’t do anything about his core, but there were already plans on storming the indoctrination site in Qishan to get back their swords.

The next day he helped out in the kitchen, in the company of Jiang Yanli. She shared more childhood stories of Wei Ying while they worked, so the day passed pleasantly until he was informed of being needed in the Jiang Sword Hall urgently. He set down the knife he’d wielded to cut some carrots, and nodded at the Lan disciple at the door. There were disciples in all sect colours running around Lotus Pier these days.

“Greet A-Xian for me, please,” she told him before he left. “We’ve all been busy these past few days, I barely got to see A-Cheng and him.”

He didn’t ask her how she knew that Wei Ying would be called to the Sword Hall too, trusting her intuition on her brothers, and making his way there.

Jiang Yanli would be right, Wei Ying passing him at the opened sliding doors with a wave and his name falling from smiling lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Wei Ying’s hand touched his clothed arm briefly, before falling into step with him when Lan Wangji entered the hall. The comforting gesture was appreciated.

Jiang Fengmian wasn’t alone. Seated on the Lotus throne, with his wife and her handmaidens to one side as her status demanded, his son and heir on the other, sect leader Jiang didn’t look like the peace-seeking sect leader he was known as among the great sects, but one ready to lead a war. Sect leader Jin was like a gaudy, gilded tea table surrounded by age old porcelain, with his gold stitched robes and yellow silk fan. Meanwhile, sect leader Nie was calmly watching them enter, grey robes spanning his broad shoulders and Baxia not far from the man. Wangji also noted his brother in attendance. He sat closely to Nie Mingjue, on the table next to him, and also opposite Jin Guangshan. The seat next to Jian Guangshan was empty.

“Not even zewu-jun wants to sit beside the peaco*ck’s father. Understandable. He has no fashion sense,” Wei Ying whispered, his words fortunately only heard by them. Lan Wangji’s expression stayed neutral.

“A-Xian, Lan-er-gongzi,” Jiang-zhongzu addressed them. “I know this summons has been quite sudden. But there’s someone who’s come a long way. She told me she’d been waiting a long time to meet you.”

Wei Ying’s confused expression was felt by him, Wei Ying asking, “Who are you talking about, Jiang-shushu?”

“I was just as shocked as you, when she inquired about an audience with me this morning. A-Xian, I’d like you to meet your mother’s grandmaster, Baoshan Sanren.”

Wei Ying whirled around, to see a woman they’d met during another time enter the hall. Her smile was full of quiet mischief, while age hadn’t touched her since they’d last seen her. She’d been young then, and mortal. Now her spiritual energy was like a tidal wave sweeping through the hall, the aura of an immortal. The cultivators in attendance all held their breath, waiting for her to speak.

Chapter 26: it was such a crazy long time ago

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVI

A few hundred and some years ago…

Baoshan Sanren opened her eyes to an empty circle where the two cultivators had stood all but a moment ago. The spot was visibly charred and she'd slipped several paces back by the force expelled by the ritual. She wondered if they'd made it back.

Taking on that night hunt alone had been a foolish decision, one for which her good friend Lan An would have taken out that list of rules hir sect favoured over common sense too much sometimes for Baoshan’s liking. Meeting these two when she’d needed it had been a stroke of luck, she thought, as well as of fate.

When you lived during a time where cultivation techniques were discovered every other day, you learned not to be shocked anymore when confronted with something as mind breaking and unbelievable as time travel.

The circle was smoking still, the mix of cinnabar and blood permanently burned into the ground. They should have made it back to their time. Squaring her shoulders at the slight feeling of loss in her chest, she turned around and unsheathed her blade. If nothing else, her short time with the time traveling pair had made her realise how long it had been since she’d visited Lan An.

—

The hall was quiet with anticipation, everyone in attendance awaiting the immortal master to speak. Baoshan Sanren was said to never leave her mountain, only to take in orphaned children as her disciples. The last Jiang Fengmian had expected to happen today was her approaching him asking after his first disciple. He watched A-Xian now, greeting his mother’s grandmaster and staring as she nodded at Lan Wangji’s appropriate deferential bow, before she forewent all etiquette in this situation and hugged Wei Wuxian a bit too familiarly.

Sect leader Lan made a surprised sound, hiding his expression behind his flowing sleeves. The other two sect leaders were better in hiding their reactions, while his A-Cheng mumbled some strong language beneath his breath. Jiang Fengmian looked from the corner of his eyes at his wife, watching her reaction. Her violet stare was calculating, her fingers stroking Zidian. She’d been in, dare he say it, a less violent mood lately. A-Xian’s relationship to second master Lan had elevated her opinion of the boy, although it saddened him to watch his children grow up and spread their wings. Ziyuan disliked his emotionality in these things, more ambitious in these matters than he’d ever been.

Baoshan Sanren let Wei Wuxian go, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You could have done me the courtesy and at least written a letter." she said drily, after a while of mustering them from head to toe. It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to rub his head, like he was embarrassed to have forgotten. “Apologies.”

"Don't. The courier wouldn't know where to send it anyway."

Where had A-Xian met Baoshan Sanren? When? There had been that week when A-Xian had gone missing, ten days of no notice from him. They’d worried, even Ziyuan who’d hidden hers by working the disciples into the ground. They’d all been able to breathe again when they’d heard from Gusu that Wei Wuxian had re-appeared with Lan Wangji, supposedly meeting during a night hunt he’d run off to and helping the lost second jade back to his sect.

“That’s not why I’m here,” she was saying now.

It had been a miracle nobody had tried to say something so far, but sect leader Jin stepped up with a smile, addressing his question at Baoshan Sanren: “I believe I’m speaking for all of us when I say, we’ve been wondering this ourselves, venerated daozhang .”

She gazed at him unimpressed, which had Jin Guangshan sweat from the intensity of his gaze. Men like Guangshan were unaccustomed to being faced with women like her. The reclusive cultivator considered her words, before she decided to answer.

“Back then, I told myself I’d retreat from sect politics and the like. I’ve had enough, after witnessing sects rise and fall, and cultivators repeating the same mistakes. Due to the way information reaches me slowly, and sometimes only when I come down to take in a new disciple, I only learned of xiăo Cangse’s death two weeks ago.” A bit subdued, she continued, “Although I’ve seen them all grow up, knowing they’d die one day, her death saddened me greatly.”

The gathered sect leaders all nodded, imagining watching the people around you age while they’d stay untouched by time.

“Baoshan daozhang” Nie Mingjue spoke for the first time since this meeting began, “this still doesn’t explain why you’ve come to us today.”

She nodded, “You’re right, Nie-zongzhu, it doesn’t. No, my reasons for leaving my seclusion are entirely due to those two.” She turned to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. “After I heard of xiăo Cangse and her husband’s passing, I also realized that you, Wei Wuxian, are her son.”

This wasn’t news to anyone who’d heard of Jiang Fengmian taking in the son of his once unrequited love Cangse Sanren and his servant Wei Changze. Even Wei Wuxian himself looked at her, wondering why she would state that fact.

“...it would have been nice to know I have a grandson, Wei Wuxian.”

This did startle a reaction out of the boy who looked like he’d been hit over the head with something. Jiang Fengmian felt faint. Hadn’t she said all her disciples were taken from the streets? How could she claim any blood relation to Wei Wuxian?!

“Really,” she continued, ignoring the sect leaders entirely to fix her gaze on the shocked Wei Wuxian. “First, I couldn’t know if you made it back for like, four centuries . And then I have to hear it from the grapevine that you’re alive and Wen Mao’s sect has lost all rhyme or reason there was to it, starting another war in the cultivation world.” Her smile resembled Wei Wuxian’s to a terrifying degree when she said, “I hope for you, you haven’t yet married your man. I want a wedding invitation.”

While Lan Wangji wasn’t visibly reacting to her words, Wuxian full-on blushed, stuttering something unintelligible. Jiang Fengmian hid his smile, seeing the boy who was normally unflappable being teased like this. He decided to spare A-Xian further embarrassment, though.

Speaking aloud, he told Baoshan Sanren that she, if she so decided, would be welcome to stay and be treated as a guest and family of Wei Wuxian’s. His head disciple’s eyes shimmered at the word ‘family’. It reminded Jiang Fengmian of how although he’d taken him to Lotus Pier, A-Xian had lost his parents too early, and hadn’t any other close relatives. None would question Baoshan Sanren when she said, A-Xian was her grandson. It wouldn’t matter if they were blood related, her word as an immortal held immeasurable weight.

Baoshan Sanren took his offer to stay. Then the meeting came to an end, his words being they needed to hold a tactical meeting after a quick break and everyone outside the sect leaders was dismissed. Only when he laid down on his bed at the end of the day did Jiang Fengmian snap back upright into a sitting position, with the thought: wait. What did she mean by saying four hundred years?! Wei Wuxian, what did you do?! Don’t tell me, you-?

—

Wei Wuxian was clutching at Lan Wangji’s robes and whining into the white fabric, after the embarrassment of having been teased by his mother’s grandmaster in front of a gathering of sect leaders. Her immortality had made her teasing worse, now she was truly terrifying, he thought and gave another sound of despair. Lan Zhan petted his hair and let himself be dragged at the front of his white outer robe, patiently waiting for Wei Wuxian to resurface.

Baoshan Sanren, that evil woman, laughed softly. “I remember Cangse being the same. All this time she reminded me a bit of you. Now it makes sense.”

Lan Wangji regarded her curiously. She, like them, hadn’t changed much from their last meeting. Only, she had lived through all these centuries. “Wei Ying’s memories of his mother are few.” he said.

Her gaze changed to one of understanding. “I would be willing to share some of the antics Cangse got into as she grew up, before she left for the world outside my mountain.”

Wei Ying lifted his head off Lan Wangji’s chest. “I’d like to hear them, popo.”

“Who are you calling your elder?” she grumbled, but it lacked any heat behind her words. Wangji watched their easy bantering, seeing how Wei Ying visibly enjoyed this kind of interaction. He was content to listen as they slowly moved to a better spot for her to regale them with stories of Cangse Sanren in her youth, as a young disciple.

This was something only those who’d known Wei Ying’s mother could give Wei Ying, and Lan Wangji was happy for him to be able to get to know more about the mother he’d never been able to get to know himself. A few half faded memories were all he’d had of her. Lan Wangji, meanwhile, had six years of his life with his own mother, before she’d faded away.

—

Jiang Yanli was stepping around a corner of Lotus Pier’s corridors, when she bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, meeting the stunned eyes of someone in yellow and gold Jin sect robes. It was Jin Zixuan, who seemed surprised to see her. Shaking off the short moment of breathlessness at running into him of all people, she sketched a respectful bow, and was about to go on her way. She was nearly past him, when she felt him hold her arm. She stopped. Realizing he’d acted uncourteous, he quickly retracted his arm, and coughed. She turned to him, waiting for him to say something, now that he’d obviously tried to get her attention. Though, now he had it, he averted his gaze.

She wondered why he was always so nervous around her. Was it because of their engagement, or did he feel like he had to be courteous in her presence due to being engaged? She was unsure what he felt about her. Love was something complicated, and couldn’t be forced to be required by the other person, even when you loved them. She knew he didn’t love her, but if they could grow to be comfortable with each other, maybe he wouldn’t resent her like her parents did each other.

“Yes?” she asked, after he stayed silent long enough for her to be reminded of the emptiness of the corridor. They would be in the way of anyone rounding the corner and spotting them standing around like this.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here, Jiang-guniang.”

Her eyebrows rose at his awkward try at conversation. “Jin-gongzi shall be reminded, this is my home until I’m to be wed, whether my future husband will be Jin-gongzi or some other young master.” As much as she hoped for Jin Zixuan to return her feelings and ask for her hand himself, if he couldn’t she wouldn’t make them both miserable by forcing this on him or herself. She’d seen how her mother had grown bitter from competing with a dead woman over the affection of Yanli’s father.

Jin Zixuan looked extremely embarrassed. “...of course, excuse me Jiang-guniang.” He still didn’t move, or walked away. She co*cked her head as she watched him.

“Jin-gongzi...could it be, you may have gotten lost by the unfamiliar structure of Lotus Pier?”

Jin Zixuan’s delicate blush looked adorable, she thought. It betrayed him, as he opened and closed his mouth, at a loss of words. His hands were angry fists, and if she wished to borrow her brothers’ words, he resembled a ruffled peaco*ck. She smiled, one hand coming up to her mouth to hide it as she let out a small giggle. She didn’t see Jin Zixuan’s eyes widen in shock at the sound or at how beautiful he found her just now, after having always tried hard not to notice her.

He’d followed his father to Lotus Pier, at his mother’s urging for him to meet his fiancée. He’d fled his father’s side shortly after greeting Jiang-zongzhu, but got lost on his way back to some important meeting where he should have been in attendance. The meeting will be over now, he thought, but couldn’t bring himself to care as Jiang Yanli didn’t take offence at his awkward attempts at conversation and offered to show him the way to the Jin guest quarters. He still wasn’t going to marry her. But, maybe, she wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter 27: lightning strike

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVII

Jiang Cheng knocked, a quick rhythm with his knuckles, not waiting for an answer to push open the door.

Wei Wuxian didn't even turn his head at him, calmly continuing his action of combing through Lan Wangji's hair, as if such domestic acts were not a step of intimacy reserved for family and one’s spouse. Maybe if sect leader Jin could see the way Wei Wuxian was already fitting the role of doting husband, he’d stop needling the rest of them on some rumours he’d heard apparently, of some powerful cultivation tool the Jiangs, and especially Wei Wuxian, possessed to fend off the Wen forces These two were shameless enough, as if Lan Wangji couldn't have recuperated in a guest room. It had been satisfying to watch both his mother and the Baoshan Sanren tear Jin Guangshan down by verbally debunking the rumours and basically telling Jin Guangshan how stupid he was to easily believe these rumours in the first place.

It was weird to see his mother openly defend Wei Wuxian. After witnessing the sheer power of him using resentful energy that night, something had changed in how she viewed Wei Wuxian now. Not even commenting on the impropriety of being all over his fiancé when called to a meeting together, she silently observed Wei Wuxian with a thoughtful expression which had Jiang Cheng waiting for her to come to a decision on his brother’s fate.

Jiang Cheng thought of his brother as an idiot who was too reckless and selfless to understand when others cared about him.

"You're disgusting." he said, closing the door.

As expected, Wei Wuxian took it as an incentive to cheerily counter with, "And you're going yo be eternally single."

There was a moment where Lan Wangji didn't change his expression at all, but Wei Wuxian must have read something into it, because he explained, "Ah, he got black listed by all matchmakers, after that one time he-"

"Wei Wuxian!" He interrupted him from revealing Jiang Cheng’s past experiences with matchmakers and terrible set-ups with some noble’s daughter.

Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, "Anyway, that’s surely not something that would interest you, it’s probably against your no gossip rule!" He laid aside the comb and started doing the complicated Lan style with too much practice to have been doing it the first time. Jiang Cheng's brows twitched, feeling his brother was just too shameless.

“A-Cheng, why are you here?”

“What do you mean, asking me why? If you’d take part in important meetings, instead of slacking off, you’d know already.”

His brother stood up from his position behind Lan Wangji, stretching with some exaggerated motions that had him roll his eyes.

“Wei Ying.”

“Huh?”

Lan Wangji was looking up at Wei Wuxian, one hand holding out his white sect ribbon. Wei Wuxian’s smile was soft, and Jiang Cheng had to look away when he took the offered forehead ribbon and tied it in place for the other.

"Father and Lan-zongzhu along with Nie-zongzhu finalized their strategy in getting back the swords taken by that bastard Wen Chao. The mission was handed to us. We should head to the indoctrination office in Qishan as soon as possible to get the swords back."

Finally, Wei Wuxian turned his attention to him. “You’ve come up with a plan already.” It wasn’t a question. Jiang Cheng nodded. He thought back on the meeting he’d been part of as mostly a bystander while his father had been discussing this with the other sect leaders.

"Qishan Wen territory is a whole day away on sword. If we take a small group of our fastest disciples, we can make it with only one break overnight before entering qishan borders. Our best option is to sneak in and attack at dawn. And hope Wen Ruohan hasn't hidden his army around the corner."

Wei Wuxian hummed. He said, "Using the surprise element to our advantage. Sounds good. How many disciples are we taking with us?"

"Twelve. More and we'd be held back or seen."

Wei Wuxian nodded. "You’d need to take a spiritless blade to fight… how are you going to fly though?"

Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. "...mother gave me Zidian. I’ll need to fly with you, until I have Sandu back."

Jiang Cheng wished to get his blade back as soon as possible. He missed the feel of his spiritual energy flowing through a blade, and having Sandu where it belonged at his side, like another limb, a natural extension of him. He missed her and had only handed her over with clenched teeth.

.

The morning was turning into midday, when they met outside, Jiang Cheng leading his group of disciples, all handpicked by skill and flying ability to make this a fast and hard attack on the indoctrination site. Jiang Cheng had trained right next to them for years, so he was familiar with how they fought and handled themselves in dire situations. These twelve had never taken a real human life before the Wens had come and attacked that night, and these twelve had not hesitated in doing what they must, during the attack. Jiang Cheng trusted them to be able to handle this mission though.

Wei Wuxian was not alone. In fact, it was not the usual sight to see him argue with Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng could only catch annoyance in Lan Wangji’s expression before he was met with a glare – which was more usual, since they hadn’t yet gotten along beyond a polite, frigid relationship – and storming off, in a Lan way of walking briskly, but you knew they were pissed off at you by the way their steps were all stilted elegance and as cold as the winter’s first frost. He raised a brow, not asking but also wanting to know what the two had argued about.

“Just don’t,” Wei Wuxian said, tone short. He stepped onto his sword, letting it hover and waiting by offering his hand for Jiang Cheng to step on the blade before him. Jiang Wanyin allowed him to hold his secrets, for now. He stepped on the blade, aware of how it wasn’t him who controlled the sword. His brother’s spiritual energy was a comfortable hum around him, powerful and familiar, and tinged with a darker kind of energy now. Another thing his brother was secret about.

Although they both tried to joke about it, the truth was that Wei Wuxian in his drive to do the impossible had founded a completely new cultivation technique of demonic cultivation. Something he could at worst be persecuted for by all great sects, and at best simply shunned by the cultivation world, if word got out.

Jiang Cheng led his thoughts flow away alongside the wind which tugged at his robes, concentrating on balancing with Wei Wuxian’s motions while they flew towards their destination.

.

They traveled for several shichen, until Jiang Cheng told everyone to stop, lowering their formation to land near a creek where they’d be able to get water for cooking and refilling their water sources. It wouldn’t be a good idea to be caught camping in Qishan territory. They stopped at the outskirts, the nearest sect on their map being Yueyang Chang. They’d both decided against approaching the Changs, since neither knew if their sect leader would ally with them, nor if the Wen hadn’t eradicated them yet like all the other smaller sects around them. It was by far the most inconspicuous to camp out before taking the last stretch into Qishan and to the site where they’d been held hostage.

Going around the small camp, Jiang Cheng saw there was not much to do for him, safe for checking that nobody had exhausted their spiritual energy during the trip. He saw Wei Wuxian some distance from the group and went over, seeing a chance to ask the questions he’d not asked when they’d left Lotus Pier.

“What the hell was going on between you and Lan Wangji earlier?”

It was rather blunt. But he couldn't give his brother a way out of answering, by deflecting and turning his words around until he forgot he’d asked the question.

Wei Wuxian tried it, at first. At his shidi’s eye roll, he put up his hands with an explosive sigh. “Everything is fine! Why are you so interested in what happens between us? Is it because you’re single?”

He ignored the last part, knowing his brother was deflecting. “Well, he’s always glaring at me, but this time you were both talking like you were just wanting to go at it with your swords.”

“ah… well… Lan Zhan was gross at his brother. And at me too, since I told him zewu-jun was actually right. Lan Zhan is still too weak after his qi deviation to go on a mission. He didn’t take that well when I said it...”

Yeah, that would make someone as proud as Lan Wangji mad at someone. Jiang Cheng shrugged, saying, “He’d be a burden if he’d come with us. His golden core still isn’t healed is it?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, shoulders sagging. “I wish we could contact Wen Qing. She’s helped us before. When anyone would know how to repair a core, it would be her.”

Jiang Cheng wondered how his brother could be so sure on this, but as it seemed with everything involving Wei Wuxian, there was a lot he didn’t know and he scowled at the fact he didn’t know what was going on. It made him angry, the same way their sister was sad at being left out and held at a distance.

Whatever was going on with the Lans too, Jiang Cheng would have liked to say it didn’t concern him, but unfortunately his shixiong had to get romantically involved with one of them.

“Don’t forget, she's Wen.” he cautioned.

Wei Wuxian's expression was unreadable when he said, “Yes, but she’s a doctor first. The best doctor in the jianghu, who may be Lan Zhan’s only chance.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he hoped his brother was right or not in his assumption.

—

Wei Wuxian sat in a bush, watching the guard in Wen colours yawn. They were standing leisurely and paying less attention to their surroundings than the story the second guard was telling them. From here, he could make out some bits and pieces. The guards were regalling each other with past night hunts, laughing about the misfortune of someone who’d been caught in their own spirit net.

He gripped Suibian with his right hand, Chenqing secured on his sash. He wasn’t planning on using it today for anything other than playing rest later on. Their plan was to strike hard and fast, and get the swords. It was not the plan to use resentful energy, not this time. Hopefully never, if he could help it.

A bird’s call rang through the air. Jiang Cheng’s signal. With a burst of spiritual energy, he jumped out of the underbrush, taking down the first guard to the shock of the other. He landed on the guard’s back, Suibian severing the head from the neck with one fluid movement. The spray of blood hit the second guard, paralyzing him for one moment. It was all Wei Wuxian needed to thrust Suiban between the second guard’s ribs. The man let out a gurgling wet sound, dropping like a puppet with cut strings when he ripped Suibian out of the body.

Two down, without any alarmed shouts. Wei Wuxian didn’t idle around here, picking up the sounds of the others similarly taking down their pair of guards around the perimeter. Then the first strike had been done and the rest of the Wen cultivators were realizing they were under attack.

He caught up with Jiang Cheng who was wielding Zidian with a ferocity he’d seen only in that other future, purple sparks reflecting in his eyes and giving him a far more mature look. He stayed safe away from the range of the powerful cultivation tool, fending off the Wen cultivators who now attacked them.

There weren’t many. Wen Ruohan had truly believed the sects wouldn’t rise up against him, even with his failures at Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian was baffled at so much arrogance, but grateful that it made this easier.

.

When the place had been cleared of Wen forces, they gathered, Jiang Cheng giving the order to search for the swords taken from the disciples at indoctrination. Meanwhile he cleaned Suibian and sheathed it, taking Chenqing out of his sash and placing it at his lips. He started playing the familiar tune of rest, wishing Lan Zhan could have been here to accompany him on his guqin, since the piece was originally composed to be played on a qin.

Chenqing rang lonely over the battlefield, guiding the lingering spirits to move on and rest, to not return as vengeful spirits, to let go. He knew this war would drag on for the next few years to come, but they’d not make it worse by letting these wounds fester in the earth. The dead should be allowed to move on and return to the cycle of reincarnation.

He opened his eyes, not having known he’d closed them, at hearing his shidi telling him they’d found Bichen. Putting Chenqing back at his hip, he held his arm out, taking the white elegant sword of his fiancé. He traced the engraving at the hilt and the sheath with his thumb, the silver and white of the Lan reminding him of Lan Zhan when he moved through the beautiful Lan sword style. They were only apart for a day and already he missed him fiercely, feeling bad for leaving him behind. He only wanted Lan Zhan to be safe. He missed sparring with Lan Zhan, who tried hard to be busy in other ways so hard it was starting to worry Wei Ying.

Another call of his name had him turn his gaze to the Wen cultivator cowering between two of his shidis.

“Shixiong,” one of his shidis, Liu Feng said, sketching a bow before standing upright again, “this Wen cultivator laid down his weapon and capitulated when he saw us.”

He stared at the timid boy, who was shaking a bit between the two Yunmeng disciples which were approximately about the same height and age, but looming over him since he was trying to be swallowed up by the ground. “Wen Ning?” he asked, just to make sure.

“H-hello, Wei-gongzi.” Wen Ning replied.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, because as far as he knew, last time Wen Ning had not been here, instead helping him and Jiang Cheng to escape to Yiling where his sister should be at the moment.

“At first I wanted to warn Wei-gongzi of Wen-er-gongzi’s plans to attack you… Wei-gongzi had been so nice to this lowly one during the archery competition, it wasn’t right he had to suffer. Then the attack on Yunmeng Jiang didn’t go well at all for Wen Chao. Wen-zongzhu is angry at the Jinag sect for killing Wen Zhuliu, and now he has Wen Chao waiting for you to ambush you on the way back. He knew you’d try and get all the sect heir’s swords, so he didn’t leave it heavily guarded…”

“He wanted us to feel safe in our small victory over him, thinking him too arrogant to plan something as devious as this,” he sighed, heart warm with how good a person his friend was. Next to him Jiang Cheng cursed, having listened to what the Wen boy had told Wei Wuxian.

“Wei-gongzi, I know you probably are hesitant to trust me. I'm Wen and telling you this means betraying my sect. But our sect also tells us not to forget a good deed and you’ve only been kind to me. Let me help you. There’s a way to sidestep Wen Chao completely without him noticing.”

“Jiang Cheng, I think we can trust Wen Ning.” he said, mind already made up on following Wen Ning. It was convincing his shidi which was going to be the hard part here. It did take some talking into and at the end, it was still with some suspicion that he regarded the Wen boy with. Jiang Cheng’s eyes burned a hole into him, before he finally agreed to follow the timid boy.

The way back would take a bit longer than they’d needed from Yunmeng to Qishan. He silently apologized to Lan Zhan in his head for being held up, while cursing Wen Chao to suddenly grow a brain cell.

—

Lan Wangji was still pissed when he passed the kitchen and picked up the scent of smoke. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. He hadn't been wrong. The air was filled with a thin film of smoke that came from the kitchen. It wasn’t the smoke from the stove fire, but the crisp heavy scent of burnt food.

He ducked his head into the kitchen in worry of some unnoticed open fire, ready to sound the alarm if needed, and came to see a sooth-covered Jin Zixuan staring gloomily at a pot that was giving off the disgusting smell. Golden eyes stared at the Jin heir for a moment. Although there was a lot of thick smoke, thankfully no fire had broken out.

“Lan-er-gongzi,” Jin Zixuan greeted him awkwardly.

“Jin-gongzi,” he said, standing at the door for a moment before deciding it was a better idea to step into the kitchen and open a window to let the smoke disperse quicker this way. Then he looked at the used kitchen utensils on the stove. The pot’s contents were truly unrecognizable. He saw grains of rice on the counter next to the stove, and some chopped green onions. Either some attempt at cooking a rice dish, or just plain porridge. Although how someone could burn porridge to this stage was a mystery. He would need to ask Wei Ying. Thinking of his zhiji made him remember their fight earlier. Being seen as a burden, as someone weak, was grating at him. Hadn’t he proven that he could fight, even weakened while something drained him of his spiritual energy? He shut away these thoughts, since it brought no comfort to think himself into circles.

Jin Zixuan had been turning red in the face while the other had taken a look at his failure in the culinary arts, not saying anything. He had felt the stare of the other young man on him like a cold brand on his skin, until he blurted out his next words, “Please don’t tell maiden Jiang of this!”

After he’d realized how unfair he’d maybe treated his fiancée, he’d wanted to make her a gift. He’d promptly went to his only female friend, Luo Qinyang, who’d given him the advice that it shouldn’t be anything he could simply buy with gold. Yanli was someone who’d far more appreciate something he’d made himself. His next problem had been that he didn’t know what a girl like Jiang Yanli would appreciate. Thinking, he’d only been able to remember her brothers always passionately talking about her soup. Cooking had sounded like a good idea at first, but only in theory since he was completely inept it seemed.

“Gossip is forbidden,” Wangji said, while the Jin heir stared mortified at him. Letting out a relieved breath of air, Jin Zixuan stared at the contents of the pot, with despair at his future prospects at marriage.

“I’m not worthy of her, if I can’t even make her porridge.” he murmured, louder than he’d intended.

“...could teach you how.” If only to save Jiang Yanli from dying of food poisoning by her well-meaning husband in the future. He’d even be able to relate, since Wei Ying didn’t seem to have a grasp on how to use spices when making food and it ended up being a shade of red that even the Yunmeng disciples were unable to digest.

The Jin heir looked at Wangji in surprise. Although they were both sect heirs, he hadn’t talked to Lan Wangji except for the polite greetings at sect banquets or some other meetings both twin jades had accompanied their uncle to that had been at Lanling. During his studies at GusuLan, he’d mostly observed Wei Wuxian hogging the second jade’s attention, which had also included Wei Wuxian smuggling in a pair of rabbits for some weird reason. Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure he wanted to know, really. Fact was, they were basically strangers. There was no reason for Lan Wangji to offer him his help. But as much as he tried to, he couldn’t find any hidden motives behind this simple offer. He relented, telling himself he was doing this for Jiang Yanli, so he would be able to apologize to her for being rude all this time to her.

“If Lan-er-gongzi would be willing to teach me, I’d be very grateful.” he said, and was answered with a “Mmh.”

Chapter 28: every second I waste, is more than I can take

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVIII

Huisang let the cool air of the Cloud Recesses ruffle his hair, bored out of his mind. He’d been unwillingly shipped off after his brother had departed for Yunmeng, deemed too vulnerable inside their sect’s stronghold. In his opinion, it would have been just as defendable as the Cloud Recesses, but nobody listened to him anyway, since he was only the second young master of the Nie who neither possessed the physical strength of his brother nor any interest in leading a sect. So his opinion was mostly overlooked, something he’d favoured before, since it gave him the excuse to follow activities like painting and bird watching. Only now he felt the restrictiveness of his life of leisure, watching his cousins and brother ride into battle, and leaving him behind. Anxiety had his meals appear unappealing to him, and his eyes wandered from the texts in his hands to the outside where the sky was overcast today, a hint of rain in the air. The kind of mood you found only before an approaching storm, he thought, finding it oddly fitting to how he himself felt like he was just waiting for news of his dage. Like a single raindrop inside those clouds, he held no control over when he would fall.

“Why can’t I fight too,” he wondered aloud. Caught up in his sombre mood, he didn’t even notice he’d spoken softly, and the answering voice had him yelp and hide behind his book, as it pierced the silence around him.

“The world surely needs some scholars too.”

There was a young man standing before him. His features were slender and soft, similar to Huisang’s own. While he himself held a more hawk-like facial shape, a strong Nie trait, this man was sharing a close resemblance to the Jin bloodline. Nie Huisang wouldn’t be surprised if he was part Jin, knowing too well from his information network what kind of man Jin Guangshan was.

The young man, having his attention now, quickly sketched a bow, his bearing apologetic, “This one is sorry to have startled the young aster. This wasn’t my intention, for that i apologize. May I give my name. Meng Yao. I heard the young master speak and thought I should brighten his spirits since he seemed down a bit.” His speech was clear and Huisang thought it sounded well-trained. Not one word out of place, never stumbling without even that being a carefully measured thing. The silver tongue of someone who held power with their words alone, but one look at Meng Yao’s earnest gaze gave him doubt if Meng Yao knew what kind of power he held. Yet.

Huisang laid the book down carefully, to prolong his time to think of an answer. He smiled brightly, hiding behind his image of a young master obvious to these things. “I agree! Sadly, I’m not cut out for a scholarly position either. I’m simply unable to be of any use, I fear.”

Meng Yao's look of sympathy felt more like pity, Huisang hiding his clenched fists in his robes. If he could simply pick up his saber, he wouldn’t be stuck here! It wasn’t just laziness, like his dage accused him of. Dage didn’t know that Huisang knew of their family curse, slowly driving their sect leaders into an early grave through qi deviations. Huisang didn’t want to die.

He’d no thirst for the glory of battle, the exciting rush of a night hunt, the thrill of slaying demons and vengeful corpses. He’d believed he was content to sit around the Unclean Realm and paint.

In the end, he only wanted his family to be safe. It was now that he realized he’d need to take action, to make sure of that.

“Why does the young master feel he wouldn’t be of help?”

“You see, Meng yao, I can’t cultivate with my saber.”

MEng Yao sat down, thinking. “Wouldn’t it be logical to use another weapon then? Most cultivators use swords, but I have heard of some cultivators with spiritual tools like a whip. The Lans of Gusu use musical cultivation too.”

Nie Huisang sighed, nodding. “Yes, but all cultivators use swords mainly. As a Nie, I’m supposed to cultivate with a saber instead of a sword. But…”

He took out his fan, the one he’d painted here during his studies, fluttering it in front of his face to be able to do something with his hands. Meng Yao watched the fan, silent, before he hesitantly asked, “Do you really can’t use another weapon? At all? I’m sorry, since my understanding of cultivating is more of theoretical nature. But if a saber isn’t the way for you,”

Huisang shook his head, no. He wouldn’t ever cultivate with his saber, that he was sure of. It hung decoratively in his room here at Cloud Recesses. Meng Yao continued, “then can I ask if the fan young master is holding? It’s a stunning work of art.”

He brightened at the chance to talk about his favourite pastime. “This one? I painted it. It’s all I’m good at, I guess… I have more at home, but I didn’t want to leave this one behind.”

Nie Huisang watched Meng Yao stand up and move through the shelves, co*cking his head and observing him take out a few scrolls and texts until he found what he was searching for and returned.

Meng Yao laid the book down, sliding back onto the cushion and beginning to explain, “when the young master told me of his fan, I was reminded of reading about the war fas of Dongying.”

“War fans?”” he asked, interested despite his more pacifist nature. He’d never heard of fans being used in this fashion. The materials alone had to be sturdy and quite different, to forge a weapon like this. How would you fight with them?

Meng Yao opened the text, to a depiction of a pair of metal fans, with sharp blades at the tips of the spines. “There’s not much information on how one woould be able to cultivate this way, but it doesn’T seem impossible to me.”

Alright, Huisang was interested now. “Tell me more,” he said.

—

Wei Wuxian eyed the small figurines, catching sight of delicately crafted cranes with detailed wings opened as they were in the middle of taking flight. Of proudly stalking tigers. Of small, elegant cats in various poses. His gaze swept over the collection until it stopped. He reached out to carefully hold his prize aloft.

"I'll take this one," he said cheerfully to the stall owner. The man, smelling an opportunity, tried to make him buy a second figurine, but Wei Wuxian shook his head. Paying for his purchase, he put it in jis qiankun pouch after it was wrapped securely inside rough spun wool and paper. He'd told the seller to hold the change for this thoughtfulness.

Humming contentedly, he wandered back to the waiting Jiang Cheng.

"Are you done?," Jiang Cheng asked, looking uncomfortable in his plain robes. Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. The other could be worse than the peaco*ck, making a drama out of such a small thing. Jiang Cheng had been reasonable when they needed to hide their Jiang clarity belts and Jiang cheng was given a plain outer robe in exchange for his Jiang purple one. If only he'd not look like someone told him to walk over hot coals the whole time he was walking around like a rogue cultivator.

"Dear shidi of mine," he teased, while he started to walk along the main dirt road leading outside the town, "how can anyone be so unromantic? I got some information from the seller too, so it's not even an unnecessary purchase." In a quieter tone, he said, "He's seen some Wen cultivators around here."

Jiang Cheng's expression turned somber, his lips pressed into a hard line. "Let's move quickly then. As much as I want to trash Wen Chao's ugly visage, we're not prepared to take on his army right now."

Wei Wuxian agreed. They had everyones' swords. They'd bring them back first and strengthen their allies from the other sects, before taking further action against Wen Chao and his army of wen cultivators.

—

Lan Xichen walked slowly, in no hurry to arrive at his destination earlier than he must. There’s a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, but it was probably one of his disciples, so he didn’t pause. War council so far had been a tiring affair of every sect protecting their territories with Jiang Fengmian, Nie Mingjue and him trying to unify them in a more efficient way. While Mingjue had been able to rally the smaller sects living near the Nie sect, Xichen was slowly travelling around the jianghu to visit small sects like the Yao, the Ouyang, and the Chang, speaking with their sect leaders to ally in the sunshot campaign with them. This meant he was travelling on Shuoye more than he was resting these days, flying for hours on end sometimes, until his muscles burned and his spiritual energy was depleted. All the while, visions from the first sunshot campaign overlapped with current events, battles and days spent playing songs of rest and clarity, the ache of sustained wounds and helplessness as Wuxian got consumed by the war and resentful energy.

He shook his head. This was why empathy was deemed too dangerous to become a recurring practice in the Lan sect. Since Wangji was his brother, it was even more so, memories overlapping and bleeding into each other, only meditation helping him to divide these again and preventing him from getting lost in his mind.

“Lan-zongzhu.” At the call of his title, he looked up to see who it was, not recognizing the calm female voice for a split moment. Baoshan Sanren was walking towards him, the sword at her hip elegant, but sparsely decorated. She hadn’t told them the name of her blade, history held no name written down in the books the Lan library had to offer. Lan Xichen would have asked if he felt it appropriate, but they were little more than acquaintances, the elusive immortal looking at the sect leaders with eyes that were uncanny with the agelessness they held. In her presence, Lan Xichen sensed the well of energy she held, an oppressive feeling. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t aware of it.

"Daozhang," he greeted her, trying to make his smile less perfunctorily and failing, from the look he got from her.

There was no immediate explanation why she had sought him out, so they began walking again in the direction of Lotus Pier's guest quarters. It would be inappropriate for her to follow him the entire way to his assigned rooms, he thought idly, and had to hide the undignified snort threatening to escape him at the thought of someone trying to stop her from going where she wished to. Half of the cultivators currently staying here were like starry-eyed children towards the immortal, reminding Xichen of a gaggle of junior disciples following their shixiong around on their first nighthunt. If they hadn't been fully grown men, the sight would have been endearing.

"Spare me the formalities," she said. "You Lans... unchangeable like your mountain, I say."

They stopped to let a servant with a towering stack of linens past them. He gave her his undivided attention, motioning for her to continue. Baoshan Sanren looked out over the Lotus lakes. It was a clear day and the water was a near perfect reflection of the sky.

"I’m going to be gone for the next few days,” she said. “Please inform Wuxian, I’ll be looking for an acquaintance of his who’ll be able to help. He’ll understand who I mean.”

“Why tell me this?” Xichen asked. Baoshan Sanren was not part of a sect, and as an immortal, held no loyalty to tell anyone of her whereabouts. She turned her head towards him, knowing in a way that had him feel laid open. “We share the same interests in this. You want your brother’s happiness, don’t you? Likewise I wish for Wuxian to live happily.”

It was such a simple wish, when compared to others such as power or greed. It was a wish Xichen understood, as Baoshan Sanren had said. They were not ambitious people. Acts of kindness were more worth than status or riches. He wondered if she had ever taken a cultivation partner, if her bond to Wuxian ran deeper than being his mother’s grandmaster. After descending her mountain, there was speculation of Cangse sharing a blood relation with the immortal. It was gossip Xichen tried hard not to listen to, but he’d still heard it.

“Wangji may not believe me when I tell him I worry about him,” he said. “Nevertheless, as his xiongzhang, I’ll always worry. If this daozhang knows of a person who is able to heal a golden core,” and it wasn’t a question this is who Baoshan Sanren would be looking for, “I’ll be in your debt.”

“There’s no debt between us, Lan Xichen.”

He felt like there was, but didn’t correct her and bowed to her in thanks. He’d watched Wangji walking around, helping out with small tasks he was allowed to do, while shooting longing looks at the sky. It was obvious the separation from Wuxian had him restless. Lan Xichen had given him spiritual energy yesterday, since his brother’s core was unable to build up its own, holding onto the existing energy and transferals of it. As long as Wangji’s core was in this unstable state, it needed small transfusions of energy, and although Wangji didn’t flinch anymore when Xichen took his wrist to start the energy transfer, his brother was still uncomfortable by having him share his qi with him. Lan Xichen wanted to sigh in relief at the chance to have Wangji no longer forced to accept his help or suffer from a broken core. Even if, in the past, he had secretly looked forward to spending time with Wangji, no matter how hated his presence had been. His brother’s wellbeing was what mattered, in the end.

Chapter 29: don't know how to deal with what you've done

Chapter Text

Chapter XXIX

Seeking out Wangji on the same day Baoshan Sanren had told him of her absence for the foreseeable future, he found him not far from the hallway he’d walked with the immortal master, opening the door to a room in Lotus Pier. Wangji was still walking gracefully, poised as ever, but the bow of his shoulders told Lan Xichen how tired he must be, seen all day working tirelessly so no one could say he didn’t add to the war effort. In this way Wangji was doing more than the Jins, he angrily thought. Jin Guangshan was cowardly holding back in his involvement in the sunshot campaign while his brother would disregard his own injuries.

Lan Xichen hurried his pace to reach the door before it could be shut in his face. He made it just in time to see his brother vanish inside, white robes trailing behind him. It hurt to put his feet between the door and the door frame, Wangji still possessing considerable arm strength even his lack of qi from a working golden core couldn't diminish.

“Baoshan Sanren sent me a message for you.” Xichen quickly said without preamble, before his brother could think of a way to shut the door fully.

Wangji glowered at him. It was clear he felt no desire to prolong this talk of theirs. Lan Xichen should state his reason for being hre and transmit the message and not bother him further. It was just… seeing Wangji, it rekindled his desire to speak with him, to be able to explain himself, and ask not forgiveness but for Wangji to at least take care of himself. It surprised him when, after the span of an incense stick, Lan Wangji opened the door. An unexpected invitation. Xichen stepped inside. He glanced around, noticing the single arhat bed, the shelves filled with personal belongings, the guqin sitting on the table, the scattered ink brushes next to it. He didn't need to ask who this room belonged to, since it was obvious from his brother’s frostiness towards Xichen intruding upon his space, and the opened wardrobe holding robes in deep blues and reds he’d only seen one Yunmeng disciple wear so far.

“Her message", Lan Wangji asked. He was as tightly strung as a bow string.

“Wangji, sit down please. I can see you swaying on your feet.” It was painful to watch his brother trying to seem strong, stubbornly clinging to his waning strength while he helped out where he could – or more accurately where he was allowed to, since he wasn't completely recovered and shouldn't be doing as much as he did.

Lan Wangji slowly sat down, Lan Xichen trying to ignore the glimmer of wounded pride in Lan Wangji's eyes. They had not used to fight about little things like this. Every act of care was seen as belittling now, every kind gesture regarded with suspicion. Lan Xichen had falsely regarded the distanced politeness from his brother as a step in the right direction, but the weeks spent barely interacting and the heart stopping moment of holding wangji in his arms, clinging to the spark of life inside the younger one’s chest – somehow, they’d drifted even further apart the moment Wangji had been well enough to flee from his elder brother’s concerned gaze. Nothing had changed since he knew the truth, it had even gotten worse with Wuxian's absence.

Lan Xichen wished he knew what he was doing. The guilt was eating him alive.

“Baoshan is searching for someone you and Wuxian both seem to know who’ll be able to help you. At least, that’s what she said.” He didn’t pry a name out of Wangji, who nodded at his words. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, back straight, but his fingers were curled to fists and his shoulders hadn’t lost the tension in them from earlier. In the silence, Lan Xichen made a decision in his mind that he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

“I met Meng Yao when I was in Lanling with Mingjue,” he began, seeing the option to explain himself now that he finally had his brother not taking flight the moment he saw him. Wangji made predictably as if to stand up, but hesitated the moment their eyes met, indecision written across his face. There was anger and disappointment directed at Lan Xichen, and the deep hurt of his betrayal of trust. Lan Xichen swallowed thickly. “I didn’t even know who he was when I saw him fall down the stairs, thrown down by the Jin sentries.”

Wangji sighed, shoulders not losing any of the tension in them, but looking less angry and more defeated. “Brother has always been too kind to other people,” he said. It was true. Lan Xichen had always been someone who sought to help, believing in kindness and holding the peace, but now it was like a sour taste in his mouth to hear Wangji comment on this specific trait. Was he too kind, bordering on naivety?

The doubt had him grow defensive, unable to interpret Wangji's words as anything but negative by the way they had been said.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Wangji, for following our sect's motto of righteousness,” he said bitterly, knowing how much his future self had failed in being righteous weighing on his tongue. He’d always believed in their sect's foundations. A lot of their sect rules were restrictive, like wearing only three adornments on one's belt. These rules could be relaxed outside Cloud Recesses. Not those telling him to be kind. Not those telling him to help the common people and those who couldn't defend themselves. Xichen was someone who’d not hold another person’s wrongdoings from another timeline against them. His future self’s mistakes were a warning not to blindly follow the same path, but at their core they were the same, he thought. And if Wangji couldn’t accept him anymore, he’d rather know now before he let hope grow in his chest.

“Don’t ask me to change who I am,” he said at last.

Wangji abruptly stood. His hands were clenched to fists at his sides. “I don’t even know who you are,” he said, voice cracking from the emotion coming out of him like a broken dam. Xichen had to look up, startled by this sudden change. He slowly stood too – when had he sat down? – , hands placatingly rising up. “Wangji-”

“It wasn't the unorthodox cultivation, or the war that killed Wei Ying. It was you.”

There was no answer he could give to such a statement. They knew it was true. The world had vilified Wei Wuxian long before, but the end was brought by Lan Xichen himself with nothing more than a guqin string. Both jades were facing each other, Xichen distressed over the turn this conversation had taken, only wanting to explain himself for his behaviour. It was like his words couldn’t reach his brother anymore, but Wangji had died in his arms one time too many. He’d felt the life leaving him twice, and seeing Wangji shy away from him had him reach out to grab Wangji's arm as he tried to turn around, turn away from him and flee.

“Let me go,” Wangji said. All the other times he’d let him go.

“No. You need to listen. If you still want to run away, then I’ll not follow you. Just listen to me first. Please.”

Wangji stayed, staring at him warily. Resigned to hear what his brother had to say. He still wore his white Gusu robes,with its stitched in cloud patterns. The innermost robe peaking out was a dark blue Jiang colour. Barely noticeable, but unmistakable in what it portrayed.

Now that he was able to say what he’d wanted to say ever since Mingjue had rekindled his hope in mending some of their broken brotherly bond, his throat felt clogged up, words refusing to come over his lips. If not for a burning need to voice them, he’d have stayed mute until Lan Wangji’s patience would have run out with him.

“I can’t undo what my future self did.” he decided to begin with. “I can’t fathom why I would ever…” he shook his head, feeling his tears gather in his eyes, but he didn't allow them to fall. He had no right to feel pity for himself now. “I made a mistake taking Meng Yao to our home, to your home, knowing you wouldn't ever feel safe with him there. I’m sorry. But leaving him there, I couldn’t… At this point in time, he’s done nothing I would hold him accountable for. And if you want to never return, that’s fine. I know you’ll never forgive me. I can't forgive myself for being able to pass this kind of judgement on someone, so you don't have to fear me hurting Wuxian. I'll stay away from you, from you both, if you need me to. All I want is for you to be happy Wangji. And for you to know how sorry I am.”

There was silence after his speech, the air around them thick enough to be cut with a knife. Lan Xichen was exhausted afterwards, feeling hopelessness once again at seeing his brother not react. This was a mistake. He'd misjudged the situation again. What was there to salvage, he asked the voice of Nie Mingjue in his head. When everything had been burned down to the roots, there was no way to grow a tree again.

“...xiongzhang.”

Lan Xichen was abruptly brought out of his thoughts, hearing this form of address after months where he’d been denied of it. In the past he wouldn’t have imagined he could miss the way Wangji addressed him so formally, and had even teased him about it once. He’d not heard Wangji call him elder brother in so long it shocked him enough to finally make the tears fall.

Wangji looked at him, still a hard edge to his expression that showed the disparage in age between his soul and his seventeen year old body, but it was softer than what he’d shown Xichen before. “I won’t forgive Jin Guangyao.” He hadn’t expected it and could understand this, to some extent. “I’m not asking you to, Wangji”

Lan Wangji’s expression held too many emotions behind his unchanging facade for him to decipher, but Lan Xichen sensed less hostility in his brother now, as he carefully spoke as if he wasn’t sure about showing even this much trust. “Show me I can trust you again.”

Xichen felt hope bloom in his chest like a butterfly stretching its wings, just as delicate. The urge to reach out was held back by the brittle quality of Wangji’s offer. “I promise you,” he swore, “that in offering me another chance, I’ll try to earn your trust again. I’ll honor your decision to reach out to me today.”

Wangji nodded, but didn’t offer anything else. It was foolish to think this would solve all their issues, but it was a start. And more than Xichen felt he deserved. He was relieved beyond measure nonetheless.

—

They nearly make it all the way to Lotus Pier before Wen Chao catches up to them. It had been an amalgamation of bad weather, exhaustion, and bad luck which allowed Wen Chao to get to them.

Jiang Cheng had declared they would stop two thirds of the way back to Yunmeng, camping for the night and flying the rest of the way tomorrow at the break of dawn. They’d landed at the outskirts of a forest near the river flowing through the area. Any disciple of Yunmeng felt more comfortable if there was a water source nearby, no matter how far from home they were. The rain had fallen in a downpour, only partly hindered by the canopy of the trees. The disciples had dragged their feet, showing how Jiang Cheng’s pace on returning back had exhausted them. They’d needed to escape before they would be noticed, but even Jiang Cheng had seen reason in stopping for tonight, before they would be too exhausted to fight.

Wei Wuxian, having lived through a life of war without a core and being hunted by all of jianghu, was up and ready to defend the slower disciples from the Wen cultivators ambushing them. The moon was a sliver up in the sky, barely giving any light to see through the night. He did a quick count of the flame patterned robes. Wen Chao had a small army with him, as Wen Ning had warned them of. After they’d sidestepped Wen Chao, he must have realized his ploy’d been discovered when no one walked into his trap.

Now they were here, attacking the sleeping Jiang disciples, hindered by the muddy riverbank while the storm had given them enough cover for their ambush tactic. Wen Ning’s warning had them prepared. Wei Wuxian didn’t show any mercy other than a quick death to his enemies. In another life, these men had burned his home, massacred his family, without remorse. He wasn’t going to show them any in return.

Suibian flashed in the sudden light piercing the night, illuminating the surprise on his opponent's face before they slid off his blade with a hole in their chest. Then the crash of thunder followed, rain hitting his face and drenching his barely dried robes. The rain had transformed into a thunderstorm while they’d slept. Wei Wuxian looked around, the purple light of Zidian easy to spot in the darkness. Jiang Cheng was holding his own against these cultivators for now.

The rest of the disciples had their swords out and were engaging the Wen cultivators. A voice rang out over the sound of the rain and thunder, and the clash of steel. Wei Wuxian focused on it, zeroing in on Wen Chao who had stayed back instead of leading his men. In the occasional lightning brightening the sky and surroundings, Wei Wuxian could make out his arrogant snarl, ordering his men to bring him the heads of the Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian.

Using the storm tonight had been a smart idea, something Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought of Wen Chao of all people to think of. This was where Wen Chao’s intelligence ended. His small army was not organized, allowing them to quickly cut them down and not be overpowered by their sheer numbers. Wen Chao’s position was wide open to Wei Wuxian’s attack. As much as he wanted to make Wen Chao suffer, he needed to end this before their side lost anyone tonight.

Suibian went through Wen Chao’s back and back out through his chest with a wet crunch, blood sticking to the blade and appearing black in the dark. Wen Chao’s words that he shouted to his men ended abruptly in a wet cough. His eyes bulged as he noticed the sword sticking out of him. He started screeching, but it only succeeded in him choking on his own blood entering his lungs. It was more a pathetic whimpering in the end. Wei Wuxian watched the sight with cold eyes, Suibian held in his grip and not letting the other slide off and quicken his death. He couldn’t torture Wen Chao for as long as he did last time. This didn’t mean he couldn’t draw out his death as much as possible.

“Just be done with it. You’re making the shidis uneasy.” Jiang Cheng sighed, looking slightly green himself as he came over and sheathed his sword. Wei Wuxian blinked at him, then looking first at the disciples who were treating the more serious wounds of their shidis, then back to the twitching form of Wen Chao who’d fallen silent. With a viciousness his brother gave a flinch at, he pulled Suibian out of the body. Wei Wuxian didn’t bat an eye at the sound of bone scraping against the metal of the blade, tearing skin and internal organs and having Wen Chao gurgle up blood unable to issue a scream.

It was Jiang Cheng who could no longer watch and cleanly separated the head from the body. The disciples seemed anxious around Wei Wuxian, but calmed down quickly as he saw to binding a cut from a sword, making sure everyone would be able to stand on their swords or accompanied someone who could carry two on theirs. Wen Ning proved to be a gift from the gods, holding a sachet of herbs for coagulating the blood and disinfecting the wounds. His demure personality worked in his favour, the disciples allowing his help after a moment of suspicion.

“Let’s move,” Jiang Cheng commanded, stepping onto Sandu and flying to the front of their formation. A dozen swords rose into the air, purple robes drenched, leaving behind the bloodbath that had taken place tonight.

Chapter 30: parted from me and never parted

Chapter Text

Chapter XXX

They made it back long past the sun’s zenith, not having rested since the fight with Wen Chao’s men. The calm lakes laid out before them now seemed unreal compared to the memory of last night.

Wei Wuxian didn’t wait until he reached the ground, jumping from Suibian’s blade still several chi in midair and using his cultivation to land unharmed, before launching himself at his fiancé who held him securely in his arms. The world around them seemed to drift away when he breathed in the air of sandalwood incense and the clean smell of his robes, taking in the warmth of his skin. After days away from each other he was finally back home. He never wanted to leave him again.

“I missed you,” he murmured, hiding his admission into Lan Wangji’s neck so it could only be heard by them.

“Missed Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan answered, arms tightening around his waist. “But Wei Ying should not be reckless.”

“Not even to greet Wei Ying’s future husband?” His answer was a pinch to the flesh of his waist. He squawked. “Lan Zhan!”

If his teenage self back then had known how shameless Hanguang-jun really was behind that icy facade of his, he thought now. His younger self would have died from shock.

He lost himself in the molten gold of Lan Zhan’s eyes, a colour he hadn’t seen anywhere else, he thought. Something as unbending as gold, this man allowed it to soften into something kind and warm.

"You can make eyes at each other later," Jiang Cheng said walking past them, not even acknowledging Lan Wangji's hand on Wei Wuxian's waist or the blush that was slowly receding from his shixiong's cheeks. "Father will need a report before consulting with the sect leaders."

Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically, leaning into his lover's chest. Lan Wangji caught him with amusem*nt playing in his eyes.

"Lan Zhan, I don't want to be parted so soon! I'll surely die without having you by my side."

"Mn."

He heard Jiang Cheng's annoyed intake of breath. "Why do I have to put up with you?"

The couple shared another kiss, initiated by Wei Wuxian which had Jinag Cheng staring daggers at their feet, his face red with the brazen display of his brother and his soon-to-be-spouse.

"Wei Wuxian!" He hissed when he could no longer wait for the couple to part, and finally his brother let go of Lan Wangji whose hands had wandered lower places he really didn't want to think about.

They reported their mission's success to sect leader Jiang. Jiang Fengmian was smiling at them upon their entrance into his study, where he’d looked over some papers on his desk. Jiang Cheng knew sect business didn’t stop just because the Wen sect thought they could terrorise smaller sects, nor when the whole world was slowly sinking into chaos. His father tried to have this affect the common folk less by finding the time to go through his paperwork after consulting with their allies.

The two bowed in respect, before Jiang Cheng recounted the successful retrieval of their weapons and how they’d needed to defend themselves against Wen Chao and his soldiers, and how it ended in Wen Chao’s death.

Jiang Cheng, before launching into telling his father about their prisoner, glanced at Wei Wuxian – who tried to silently communicate something to him. He furrowed his brow.

“Was there something else?” Jiang Fengmian asked.

Looking away from Wei Wuxian, he bit his lip. He should say they’d brought back a Wen. A very timid one who helped them and followed them quietly without fuss. He shook his head. “No father. That was all.”

Jiang Fengmian acknowledged his words, then he patted them both on the shoulder appraisingly for their courage in taking this mission. Jiang Cheng expected to be dismissed, since this was the end of his mission and his father would no longer need to entertain them. It wasn’t all that surprising to see Jiang Fengmian stall, when he hugged Wei Wuxian briefly – an action that had Jiang Cheng’s mood sour in jealousy – before arms went around Jiang Cheng, unfamiliar, and hugged him close to a chest that was broader than his own. He took in the embroidery of lotuses, the purple thread and soft material of the outer robe, the darker robe beneath. His mind was stuck on one thought. His father was hugging him.

He’d no memory of his father hugging him or taking him into his arms. Completely frozen he let it happen, until his father let go and took a step back with a clearing of his throat as if he'd been just as surprised by his actions. As if hugging the ward he’d taken in was more natural to him than hugging his own son by blood. Jiang Cheng tried not to miss the warmth and failed.

"I'll inform the other sect leaders of the retrieval of the sword and to prepare for Wen Ruohan’s retaliation. Get some rest and a meal. Your sister has been worrying. She'll be glad to hear you've returned."

It was a clear dismissal. They bowed, back into their roles as sect heir and first disciple now.

Outside the sword hall, Jiang cheng turned to his shixiong. He regretted it immediately.

"Wei Wuxian! Uhand Lan Wangji right the f*ck now!"

Somehow the second jade had materialized right next to them in the hallway, his steps as light and silent as a ghost’s. His white Gusu robes lend to the image perfectly, along with his paleness from his diminished spiritual energy. Jiang Cheng didn’t think you could strip out of your garments in the time it took for him to close the door and look at Wei Wuxian, but his brother had his left hand around Lan Wangji’s neck and his right was mussing up the collar of his robes. It hung loosely off one shoulder, in an indecent way that didn’t fit with the image he’d had of the Lan. He wondered if Lan Wangji allowed his brother’s behaviour simply to spite him.

Wei Wuxian’s cackle was answered by the crackling of Zidian on his finger as his ire rose to his brother's shamelessness. He was happy for his brother, he was. But there was a line, damn him. Jiang Cheng didn't want to see this much skin of Lan Wangji ever again.

Wei Wuxian was not stupid. Seeing he brought Jiang Cheng to simmering rage he bolted, dragging Lan Wangji with him. He quipped over his shoulder how Jiang Cheng lacked a love life to understand the power of true love, which had Jiang Cheng growl.

"You-!"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, communicating to stop antagonizing him, with just these two syllables. Wei Ying heard Jiang Cheng give chase, his steps like that of an angered bear. He knew lan zhan wasn't mad at him. He'd seen the challenge in the way one eyebrow had twitched upwards and the glint in his eyes as Lan Zhan had practically asked for jiang cheng to say something to their handsyness earlier.

He would let Jiang Cheng have some pork ribs today for enduring his husbands teasing on top of Wei Wuxian’s own. At the moment he was happy enough to feel Lan Zhan’s hand closed around his own, and to have him at his side again.

—

Wen Ning sat down nervously at the table, the eyes of the Jiang heir burning on his skin while maiden Jiang was very friendly with him since Wei-gongzi had introduced him as a friend that had helped them out. As he'd been whisked away and told to change into some purple Jiang robes, Wen Ning didn’t think he was in danger of being thrown into a dark cell somewhere, but it didn’t help his anxious mind to be left imagining what their plans with him were. After Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian had returned, they’d invited him to a late lunch with maiden Jiang and Lan Wangji, who Wen Ning had realized in a short momentary panic, would know who he was even in the disguise of a Jinag disciple.

Nothing bad has happened to him so far. The soup dumplings maiden jiang had encouraged him to try were delicious. She told the table that they were made by Jin Zixuan which had Wei-gongzi spit his dumpling back onto his plate. Jiang-gongzi’s reaction was to furiously remind Wei Wuxian of such a thing as table manners, while Wen Ning toyed with the thought of hiding under the table. He wasn’t used to company as loud and rowdy as the Yunmeng brothers. It was intimidating sitting next to someone as regal as Lan Wangji while the other two play-fought over their lunch, adding some snipe comments about a peaco*ck to their conversation. Maiden Jiang looked at them indulgent, gently taming her brothers when it looked like they’d go at it for another kè. It reminded him of his own sister. Jiejie would worry that he hadn't been home by now. She'd be very angry with him for landing himself in this situation.

"Try being a bit more nice to him, A-Xian, A-Cheng. He’s trying his best."

"Well, I guess. Of course, he’ll never be as good at cooking as my Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian said. A piece of lotus root landed back in his bowl of soup with a splash from underlining his point with his hand holding the soup spoon.

“A-Xian…”

“It seems very thoughtful of young master Jin,” Wen Ning murmured, and blushed at the sudden attention at being heard. He ducked his head wishing he hadn’t said anything.

To Wen Ning’s eternal relief, the conversation soon shifted back to other topics. He was content to stay out of it and eat the slightly misshapen attempts at dumplings – they weren’t neatly closed in some cases.

—

After Wen Chao’s demise at Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin’s hands, Wen Ruohan seemed to realize the rebellion he’d arrogantly dubbed as an unthreatening attempt at rising up from the sects, one he’d be able to snuff out without much force, was in fact a serious attempt at dethroning him. Now that he had not only lost Wen Zhuliu, the core melting hand, his most feared weapon, but also his second eldest – reports made it to the great sect leaders of the smaller sects situated at the border to Qishan suffering Qishan Wen’s rage, their survivors arriving at Yunmeng. They all held the same tale. A woman in white robes who’d been traveling had protected them on their escape, afterwards vanishing again.

It was like this finally catapulted the sunshot campaign into a war fought on three fronts, with Nie Mingjue taking his men to Hejian, and Madame Yu not even waiting for her indecisive peace loving husband speaking a word before taking an army to Jiangling where the violet spider made it clear giving Zidian to her son didn’t mean she had forgotten about her swordsmanship and the tales of her were nothing short of terrifying.

Meanwhile the Jin guarded their territory at the Langya front, which had the rest of them bristling innerly at the way Jin Guangshan cowardly didn't add to the war effort in any meaningful way.

Between the fighting taking place and the world descending into chaos, Baoshan Sanren returned.

Chapter 31: pieces, slowly healing part I

Chapter Text

Chapter XXXI

“Jie…”

“An immortal knocked on my door, to tell me you’ve been captured by the Jiang sect A-Ning.”

“I agreed to go with them.”

“Would they have let you go if you wanted to?”

“...”

Wen Qing sighed at her brother and squeezed him to her in a hug, that spoke of what she wasn’t saying with the company they had currently.

She’d been so worried, with A-Ning suddenly gone and her fearing the worst after asking and finding no answer where her brother had vanished. Wen Ruohan had been more paranoid with his failed attempt at Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier, and she knew the threat was hanging over her head. If he had done something to A-Ning, and she hadn’t noticed before it was too late to get her brother as far away from nightless city as possible-

No, she banished the thought. Right when she’d been ready to waltz to the nightless city herself, and plead for her brother’s life by prostrating in front of her uncle and sect leader, a woman had appeared at her door, inquiring if she was Wen Qing, the famous young doctor. Slightly puzzled, she nodded, distracted by planning the fastest route to the nightless city in her head. The woman had bowed, sword clasped before her in the way a cultivator held their weapon. Revealing herself as Baoshan Sanren, she’d asked her to come with her.

Wen Qing wouldn’t have followed anyone, not even if it had been sect leader Lan himself who’d pleaded for her help at that moment. She still couldn't fathom why she’d stepped onto her balde and taken off in the direction of Yunmeng. Maybe it was her senses as an older sister telling her that A-Ning wouldn't be in the nightless city. Maybe it was her fear to look into the sightless eyes of a puppet only to recognize her brother, soulless husk and distorted limbs.

She was glad she’d found him now, whole and healthy and not a hair out of place, even if the robes he wore were Yunmeng purple and he was murmuring his explanation into the meat of her shoulder.

It was necessary she let go of him, but she was hesitant, lest he vanish from her sight. Letting go she did, because while she was glad to have found her brother, this wasn’t what she had been led here for.

Wei Wuxian looked at her in understanding. She didn’t know how close he was with his adopted siblings, but if it was anything like her and A-Ning, she guessed they were close. Wen Qing looked from Wei Wuxian to the others around them. Lan Wangji sat carefully poised on a stone bench, looking worse than the last time she’d taken a look at his meridians and core during the archery competition in Qishan. The deep shadows beneath his eyes spoke for themselves. There was a carefully concealed tremble in his hands. She wondered how long Lan Wangji had been at his breaking point without anyone noticing.

No, she thought with a look between the Lan and Wei Wuxian. It had been noticed by someone, and they were worried for Lan Wangji, and if nothing was going to happen to help Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian would probably try and break himself first before watching Lan Wangji wither.

She could have done with less self-sacrificing men in her life.

Wen Qing was here now, so she would do what she could. Lan Wangji allowed her to touch his wrist and his abdomen close to his lower dantian, to get a feel for his qi. She listened to the way his spiritual energy was cycling through his body, a wrinkle appearing on her forehead.

She compared it to the wellspring of energy she’d felt the last time, almost half a year ago. Now it was more like a slow trickle, his meridians showing damage from his qi having burned through them. The worst was his core.

“It’s probably considered a miracle you have a golden core left at all,” she marveled. “If it weren’t for yours and Zewu-jun's qi being near identical, I don’t think it would work quite as well in holding the fragments together. It’s crude but efficient.”

Because she could feel the foreign energy woven around the fragments, close enough to Lan Wangji’s that she’d nearly missed it, but it wouldn’t make sense otherwise. Sect leader Lan who’d fluttered around the small group gave his affirmation to her observation.

“Tell me what happened.” she ordered, opening her eyes when she couldn’t glimpse any glues from the state of her patient alone.

“I had a qi deviation,” Lan Wangji told her. She’d already guessed what it could be, but it still didn’t explain his state. She’d never seen a cultivator’s core shattered like pieces of a vase.

“He died,” came Wei Wuxian’s pained voice from where he’d sat down next to Lan Wangji and taken his hand.

“I couldn’t let him die,” Zewu-jun said, “I don’t recall my exact actions, but I tried holding onto him, onto his core.”

The Lan sect leader was still carefully circling them, or to be more specific, taking great care in his distance to Lan Wangji. If she hadn't been as alert of the people surrounding her as she was thanks to growing up in Wen Ruohan's court of power crazy backstabbing men, she would have simply ascribed him as restless due to his elderly brother's concern. Lan Xichen was holding his distance to his brother as if it pained him yo be doing so. Barely restraining himself from taking his seat on Lan Wangji other side. Likewise, Lan Wangji would not glance at his brother, gaze never going in that direction while he would look at her or Wei Wuxian or even over to where the immortal grandmaster had taken an interest in the carefully cultivated stonework.

It wasn't her place to question their personal conflicts with each other.

"Whatever you did, Zewu-jun, while it worked well in that situation, it's only a short-term solution."

Already, her mind went through her amassed knowledge for a situation like the second jade's. She had her books in the Yiling supervisory office. Someone would need to get them for her. Also, the notes she'd made on Lan Wangji's condition after leaving Qishan last time. Luckily she still had them in her qiankun pouch, the small notebook she had also used to hold onto her thoughts whenever her mind gave her a new theory or idea in the most inopportune times of the day when she wasn't in her office.

For the books, she could only send Wen Ning since her brother was familiar with the texts she'd need and wouldn't be questioned. It didn't sit well with her to let him go, but knowing only the word of Baoshan herself was what held the sect leaders back from snapping a pair of cold iron around her wrists she had to get these books here.

"If you want my help, I'll need the medical texts from my office."

"Of course," zewu-jun quickly agreed. She wasn't sure who was in the lead here, when he seemed to remember himself and looked at the duo before her. Wei Wuxian nodded his head in agreement.

"Whatever you need, just tell one of us and we'll get it for you."

She considered his words carefully. This unexpected freedom told her enough of how desperate they were. She'd be the same if it were A-Ning.

"It would be best if I could consult my medical texts before treating Lan-er-gongzi further. For now, I can do little until I know more about what caused his condition."

There were promises of someone going to Yiling with her brother to collect them, afterwards she was given her own space in an empty room in Lotus Pier to work in. She wasn’t surprised at the disciple in Yunmeng colours guarding the door, nor was she shocked. She gave Wen Ning a list of what to bring her before he had to depart, promising her to be careful.

Wen Qing pulled her notes and additional paper from her qiankun pouch and began writing down her new observations from checking Lan Wangji’s condition today. At some point someone brought tea and a tray with her dinner, which she ate before leaving the tray outside for someone to collect and bring back to the kitchens. She carefully worked on comparing her written down notes, then. Her mind went through her knowledge on cores, her academic interest in the topic having her tell Wen Ning to bring the scrolls she’d written on several of her own theories before he left. She could only hope it was enough to keep her and her family safe when the name Wen would become a curse. Wen Qing wasn’t falling prey to the illusion of Wen Ruohan’s triumph in this escalation of a long brewing conflict. She only wished to stay out of it as much as she could, but the rest of the cultivation world would only see their inaction and damn them for it as if they had been the one to hold the sword themselves.

If nothing else, she would demand the safety of her family for her service as a doctor if she must. Wen Qing had to think of her family first.

Chapter 32: pieces, slowly healing part II

Chapter Text

Chapter XXXII

The next morning, Wei Wuxian awoke to Lan Wangji carefully detangling himself from their position during the night where he'd held onto Lan Wangji like some kind of octopus.

He blinked at the sight of his outer robes folded neatly by the bed – he knew better than to assume he'd had the foresight to fold them himself the previous day. Unconsciously, the corners of Wei Wuxian’s mouth twitched upwards.

After he washed and dressed, throwing his hair up in a ponytail before Lan Zhan pulled his hands away from ungently pulling at the tangled locks to comb through them, they shared breakfast together. It was the usual fare of porridge and some vegetables, gratuitously dipped into chilli oil – Wei Ying – together with some vegetable steamed buns – Lan Wangji.

There was a separate tray with heated water and tea leaves – a fragrant oolong, that Wei Wuxian poured into two tea cups, offering the second one to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji's fingers were cold when their hands touched around the cup. A reminder of his lack of a stable core to regulate his body's temperature the way every young cultivator learned to do and being more susceptible to the elements now.

But they had Wen Qing here now. They had Baoshan Sanren's knowledge and wisdom. The Cloud Recesses' library if they needed it, with texts, once lost to the flames, still there.

Wei Ying let out a trembling breath. Upon a questioning look from Lan Zhan, he shook his head.

"Ah, nothing. I was a bit lost in thought."

Golden eyes followed him around the room as he stood up, suddenly restless. He idled there, his previous thought forgotten as he gazed back into those depths of gold, as calm as the Lotus lakes, and all the more beautiful. He could have stood there forever, just watching those eyes, basking in the feeling of being loved.

"Wei Ying."

The sound of his name drew his gaze to that pair of pink lips. He found it unfair how someone could possess perfectly sculpted lips. Every part of Lan Zhan, he thought, was neither hideous nor boring. His voice was smooth, wrapping around him and Wei Ying blinked in a daze, before he folded his legs to sit down again, rather ungracefully. He'd no hope to recollect why he'd stood up in the first place. So.

"Huh?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Alright. Fine. I guess I'm worried. About what Wen Qing said."

Lam Zhan glanced down, before he looked back up. A small motion, but one that spoke how he too was uncertain.

"We're going to fix this, Lan Zhan. I promise you."

"Wei Ying doesn't need to make a promise for something I already know. If it had been meant as the prize for our second chance, I would have lost my core."

And it was still here. They both understood the implications. For some reason the sacrifice had been deemed enough, and Lan Wangji would regain his strength.

"I feel like its my fault for being selfish."

"No."

"Isn't it? It wasnt enough for me to have you, I was asking to have shijie and Jiag Cheng and my life at Lotus Pier."

"Wei Ying, your capacity for love is part of why I adore you. It would have been wrong to stop you from trying to return to your family. It would have made you miserable."

"Lan Zhan," he said, choking back sudden tears. He'd held back his fears of being the only reason Lan Zhan agrees to time travel again. After all they felt a few months of happiness, and hed thrown them back into conflict and war.

"Wei Ying had been content without his family but he’d not been happy."

"I've been happy. The happiest!"

"..."

"...why do you have to be right about this?" He whined, pouting. Lan Wangji gave a huff, his way of laughing at him.

"I missed my family too. I can't forgive my brother for what he did."

"Hmm. I get it. Jiang Cheng at the end broke all ties with me, more like I broke ties with him to protect the Jiang sect, but it still hurt. You still love your family, even when they-"

He swallowed, throat dry. Sudden images from a guqin string he forced back.

"It hurts when you love them but are unable to forgive them. I may never forgive my brother for what he did to Wei Ying."

A single tear slipped down Lan Zhan’s face. Wei Yimg hated seeing Lan Zhan hurt. Lan Xichen had betrayed his brother in such a way it had cut deeply. It had been good to see even the Lan Xichen of this time react with horror at his own self's actions, but Wei ying understood why lan zhan was unable to trust lan xichen again without proof.

Walking on his knees around the table he took his zhiji into his arms and laid his head on lan zhan's shoulder.

—

Wen Qing had been given room near the healer's to work in, and she was waiting for the duo with her normal stern expression instead of the pinched look she’d carried yesterday. It reassured Wei wuxian who had complete confidence in her when it was about golden cores.

Lan Wangji let her examine his meridians again.

“Wei Wuxian, sit down! Your pacing anxiously is distracting me from my patient.”

He sat down, drumming his fingers on top of one knee. Why was he so anxious, when he knew she could help them? His mother’s grandmaster had given insight to what she knew about golden cores, through her own ascension to immortality and her long experience roaming the world, seeing different styles of cultivation. He’d been confident when he’d agreed to a core-transplant that held only a fifty percent chance to be successful.

Back then, it had been him. This was Lan Zhan, whose core still threatened to dissipate, or worse, take him with it. Wei Wuxian had no idea what he would do if this cost him Lan Zhan.

“The good news is, this is easier to repair than someone who lost their core to Wen Zhuliu.” Wen Qing brought him back from his spiralling thoughts. She was scrawling something down in her notebook. He’d never seen her leave it around somewhere for long in Yiling. It held her own personal research on her brother’s medical condition, along with Lan Zhan’s now.

“While I still don’t completely understand what caused your core to be like that,” she paused for a short moment, a small frown of puzzlement on her face, “it’s already trying to heal on its own. Unfortunately, while in this state, your spiritual energy is not circulating as it should, your core not able to use it and thus accumulating in a build up of spiritual energy that just destabilizes it right now. If we can coax the shards into position and help with that useless amount of energy, without the shards dissipating, your core will be back to what it has been before, although I can’t guarantee this theory is going to work at a hundred percent. As things stand, for this to work we’ll need an energy signature closest to your own, so we can take away the destabilizing spiritual energy and have someone share theirs to hold the shards in place.”

“Zewu-jun.”

Wen Qing nodded.

—

Lan Xichen hadn't expected to be accosted by Wei Wuxian today, so he halted in surprise at the call of his title, turning slowly around to see the Jiang disciple alone with his expression carefully blank. For a moment he felt panic rise up. It had been more than a day since Wen Qing had been brought here. Has something happened to Wangji?

“Wei Wuxian,” he greeted perfunctorily, almost carefully. His eyes traveled behind Wei Wuxian as if Wangji would magically appear. He didn’t, so he turned back to Wei Wuxian.

“Has something happened?”

“If zewu-jun isn’t busy for the remainder of today, we’ll need you to do an energy transfer again.”

“Of course I’ll share my spiritual energy with Wangji. Thank you for informing me of this, Wei Wuxian. I’ll inform a disciple of my being occupied, should one of the sect leaders ask.”

Wei wuxian’s expression didn’t change. He turned around with Lan Xichen’s agreement to the procedure. “Ask someone to lead you to Wen Qing, we’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Does this mean, she’s able to help him?”

Wei wuxian, already walking away, slowed to a stop. “I never doubted her.”

Lan Xichen watched him go, before he let out a sigh. He had been on his way to a meeting, but this was of greater importance he decided. He hunted down one of the senior disciples walking around and told them something had come up and he was sending his apologies to Jiang Fengmian and the others who were no doubt waiting for him.

Then he asked a servant for directions to Wen Qing’s temporary quarters.

—

Lan Wangji didn’t look away from Wei Ying when the door opened to reveal his brother. He had to force himself to look at Lan Xichen when the other softly said his name. Lan Xichen was watching him carefully, before glancing at Wen Qing who stood in front of her desk.

“zewu-jun.”

“Wen-guniang.”

“Let’s be done with formalities for now, and explain why I’ve asked for you to be here.”

She explained what she’d theorised earlier, Lan Xichen listening attentively to her. Wangji watched his brother now, finding it easier while his brother’s attention wasn't on them. Wei Ying sat down beside him, the closeness welcomed. Lan Xichen was asking how high the chances of success were to which Wen Qing replied with the same frankness as earlier; it wasn’t a hundred percent, and the chances were better with a similar energy signature. Lan Wangji closed his eyes, steeling himself. Sharing spiritual energy was often done between healers and patients, and purely professional. It was necessary sometimes during a night hunt to make sure someone stayed alive until help arrived.

It still had Lan Wangji consciously staying still, so he wouldn't recoil from the touch to his wrist, before he felt his brother’s warm energy flow into his meridian system and to his core, only a connection for now. His brother’s energy didn’t join the fluctuating energy he could feel around his core when he was in deep meditation. It stayed, waiting for wen qing’s directions.

The Wen doctor told Wangji to lay down on the arhat bed in the room. Then she sat down and took his other wrist with one hand directly over his core, and waited for lan xichen to position himself somewhere beside Lan Wangji.

“I’ll need you to transfer the energy you feel moving around your core to me. MEanwhile zewu jun you have to transfer your energy to him and hold onto his shattered core, don’t let it dissolve. When the build up energy is gone, we can fix his core to heal without threatening to cause another qi deviation.”

Lan Wangji didn’t see his brother nod, but he felt Wei Ying’s touch on his left leg, since both his hands were taken. Then he had to concentrate and step into a meditative state, sensing both his brother’s spiritual energy flowing through him without adding to it, and Wen Qing’s professional medical touch, reaching out to him halfway as he took from the energy circling his pathways and transferring it over to her. She let out a gasp at the sheer amount of energy his shattered core still accumulated over the last weeks, that he’d been unable to use. IT was painful to move it with the shards digging like glass into his chest, even if he knew they didn't do so physically. his brother’s reassurance through his spiritual energy let him clench his teeth.

He focused on where he could feel Wei Ying holding onto him lightly, and slowly moved more of the poisonous spiritual energy to Wen Qing who he sensed was sending the energy out in a controlled way. For a moment his shattered core was unable to sustain its broken state as the energy was nearly gone from him, but then he felt the cool trickle of his brother’s spiritual energy reach for the shards and embrace them, as careful as he’d been with him since gaining the knowledge of the future, and his core stabilised again. Wen Qing took control of the small shards, coaxing them into place with the precision of a surgeon. When they were all aligned, she told him to focus on healing himself.

It was still very painful to have the fissures and cracks mend together to become a whole, but Lan Wangji had felt more pain in his life. This was worth the pain he thought, when he regained more and more of his spiritual energy through it.

Then, it was done.

The stream of spiritual energy stopped, and Wen Qing sat back, telling those in the room that it was successful.

Lan Wangji breathed without the sensation of sharp objects digging into his chest from the inside. His toes and fingers were warm after too long feeling cold. Wei Ying hugged him around the waist, with his upper body a weight on his legs since this must have been the fastest he could reach him from his position at the foot of the bed. Lan Wangji would have liked him to be up here with him, so he could have kissed him.

Chapter 33: justice without empathy

Chapter Text

Chapter XXXIII

While the combined forces of Yunmeng Jiang and Meishan Yu held up on the Jiangling front, news reached Lotus Pier of the Hejian front being under heavier attack by the Wen. Their reaching out to the closer allies in Lanling had been futile, Jin Guangshan refusing to aid in greater capacity in the sunshot campaign. Lan Xichen felt less surprised over this inaction of sect leader Jin than he would have a year ago.

He’d go himself to help Mingjue, but before he could he visited Wangji who was well on his way back to regaining the vitality and the strength he’d lost. Wen Qing truly was a genius, he thought, seeing his brother doing basic training exercises.

Lan Wangji nodded briefly at his words of going to Hejian, so he didn’t dally and took off with a contingent of his disciples. Three of Wangji’s generation of cultivators, and one famous immortal were there to protect Lotus Pier, so Xichen wasn’t even needed there.

He still parted with a heavy heart.

His reunion with his friend happened to be during an ongoing battle. By chance, they had the aerial advantage for the few moments they were still unnoticed by the fighting cultivators on the ground. Lan Xichen sent his disciples to bolster the fighting Nie cultivators, before he joined the fighting himself. The sound of the xiao had the Wens notice him, before the song pacified the walking corpses and decimated the rows of Wen forces by nearly half. While Wen Ruohan heavily relied on his army of undead, someone like Lan Xichen with a very high cultivation base and the knowledge of the Lan songs could be devastating on the battlefield. It still wasn’t enough in the grand scheme of things, since Wen Ruohan could simply rouse more puppets next time.

The battle ended soon after, with the last Wens left alive cut down. He looked away from the sight of one cleaved in two at the shoulder, blood splattering the ground and the Nie cultivator’s robes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Nie Minjue stalk over, a haze of bloodthirst surrounding him with Baxia gripped in his right hand as if he was still seeing enemies to fight. The nearer he came, the more his aura lessened, his qi calming. Lan Xichen wasn’t intimidated, and waited for Nie Mingjue to speak first.

“You came at the right moment, Xichen. We’ve been struggling for a while with those damn corpses. Jin Guangshan hasn’t answered any of our letters, so I hoped sending one to Jiang-zhongzu would bear more fruit.”

“I offered to go by myself when Jiang-zongzhu read your request.”

Mingjue smiled, a bloody grimace that had the Lan disciple walking past shy away unnoticed by the Nie sect leader.

"How's Wangji?"

"Thankfully recovering. A cure has been found," was his answer, thinking of earlier that day.

"That's good news then."

Lan Xichen hummed in agreement. It was good news, to see Wangji back on his feet, moving fluidly through the Lan sect's sword forms. If their relationship could be as easily mended as a broken core, he wondered briefly, before changing the subject. “Wen Ruohan is using dark practices these days, it seems.”

Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, “He has us fighting an army of corpses is what he does!”

Their conversation was put on hold after that, Lan Xichen offering to play pieces of soul calming and resting to avoid the dead from rising again that was gladly taken by the other.

The encampment of Nie Mingjue’s forces at the Hejian front was a sea of tents, people rushing through to the medical tents to bandage and treat wounds from swords and resentment energy, the occasional carriage with grain and rice, as well as dried vegetables and fruits coming through that Lan Xichen had to evade.

Lan Xichen was walking past a group of Nie soldiers when he heard the weak voice of an old woman and stopped abruptly. He turned around to look closer at the group, seeing them circling a form slouched and cowering on the ground. They wore dirty robes in white and red, with flames stitched at the hems. Wen sect robes, the white more of a grey color they were so dirty. The Nie soldier in the lead held himself with superiority as he kicked the woman in the stomach again. The woman whimpered in pain and curled around herself, even if it must be hard for her to bend her aged bones in such a way, until she was curled into a tight ball.

This was needless violence, the kind of cruelty he was horrified to see from Nie Mingjue’s own men. A look around showed him that he was the only one who noticed the woman’s plight. Lan Xichen heard her whimpering cries, like the final cries of a bird; he couldn't help comparing them. His heart was a clump of clay in his chest, his feet threatening to take him away from the scene, from the violence acted out in front of him that had nothing to do with him, and he steeled himself. He would not close his eyes to this. IT was true, what Nie Mingjue’s men did was best brought before the man to decide how to discipline his men himself. But what about the old woman? Who would take her side in this, even when the men got punished afterwards, who was going to help her now? Wasn’t it his duty to help, to not look away?

Would Wangji help her first? Yes. His brother had always been the better one of the twin jades, never shying away to act on what he deemed as the right way.

Lan Xichen stepped between the Nie cultivator raining down abuse on the elderly woman and the shaking form on the ground, his shoulders tensed with his rage directed at the man.

“Sect leader Lan,” some of the men recognized him.

“What could an old woman have done to deserve such a harsh beating?”

His eyes never left the man in the lead of the group so he saw his sneer, self-assured in his actions as he gave an answer. “She’s a filthy Wen dog, what else do we need to roughen her up? If not for her, we wouldn’t fight the evil spawn she has birthed into the world.”

Flabbergasted by such reasoning, Lan Xichen couldn’t believe the filth this man was saying. Beating a woman for having given birth to maybe one of the Wen soldiers?

“Regardless of the fact that she may be the mother of one of them, she’s an elder and non-combatant. You’ve all forgotten to respect those of seniority over you, shaming your own families with this kind of behavior. Even as a Wen, even if she is a prisoner, she deserves our respect.”

“Ha! A Wen dog? Sect leader, excuse my incredulity when I say this woman is not even worth to be talked about.”

“There’s no excuse for your words, if that is how you treat innocent people. We shouldn’t let our hatred take away our reason, so this conflict with Wen Ruohan won’t stretch on into the future generations. My sect teaches to treat those weaker than us with kindness and compassion, even our enemies so the circle of violence will not go on. I hope your clan leader sees value in my way of things when I tell him of this.”

The man blanched, to Lan Xichen’s satisfaction. He looked ready to spit at his feet but didn’t probably because he didn’t want to anger the sect leader more than he already did with his behavior. He snarled and turned around, taking his group of companions with him as he walked away.

Lan Xichen released a breath, before he finally looked after the old woman who’d not made a sound since Xichen’s intervention. When he offered her a hand, she took it hesitantly. He helped her right herself, at a loss what to do when he had to stabilize her with a hand to her elbow. Through the dusty cloth of her dress, he could feel the definition of bone. It seemed inappropriate to touch a woman like this, but his thoughts were in now way impure. His hands stayed only to aid her in standing back up. Afterwards, he lowered his arms and watched her holding herself defensively. She was two heads smaller than him, partly due to age bowing her back, partly because he himself was a tall man.

He gave a small bow to her, to her expressed discomfort he had to see. Was this war worth it, he wondered, if it made monsters out of them all? He banished the thought to the back of his mind. Something to be examined later, when he found time to meditate.

“I’ll escort you back to where we hold prisoners of war temporarily, elder Wen.”

She bowed to him. “Zewu-jun,” she said, and even her voice sounded old enough to belong to the oldest elders of his clan. His anger ignited again at that, thinking of the men who’d not hesitated, had been amused at beating her up.

“You’re a prisoner, but you deserve a modicum of respect from us.” he told her, leading to her bowing deeper than before. With a painful smile, he stopped her. She stilled, not even daring to breathe. He wanted to sigh.

“There’s no need for that,” he said instead.

Finding the other Wen prisoners, Lan Xichen was forced to see a group of women and men, young and elderly, all chained together at the ankles and huddled together in the open. A Nie cultivator ran over the moment he recognized Lan Xichen.

“Zewu-jun,” he started, before pausing for one moment, “we’ll take the prisoner off your hands now.”

“Where are you taking them?”

“Surely this isn’t something zewu-jun should feel the need to bother himself with.”

He gave a tight smile, “I wasn’t asking.”

“Ah. Chifeng-zun’s orders are to take them back to the Unclean Realm for now and put the prisoners into the dungeons.”

Lan Xichen’s gaze swept over the aged forms of what had to be half of the people assembled, seeing some of the cultivators guarding them on horseback. It would be a hard journey for them. The woman he’d helped had looked haggard, he doubted she would withstand making it to Quinghe’s sect quarters to be put into a dungeon.

“When?” he asked the same cultivator, who told him they were set to move out tomorrow at dawn. With this information, he took one last glance at the sad group of Wen prisoners, and left in search of someone he hoped could help his conflicted mind find clarity in this.

—

Lan Xichen entered the Nie sect leader’s tent late that day, after he’d taken stock of his own disciples he’d neglected in the face of the incident with the Wen woman. He saw a tray with some empty dishes, indicators of him having missed dinner. Lan Xichen had been unable to stomach anything, his practice of inedia allowing him not to feel hungry for up to a week if he’d had need to. He let the entrance fall shut, feeling the weight of his earlier decision settle back on his shoulders without the distracting sounds from outside – muffled by talisman papers stuck to the walls, a glance around told him. Made to dissuade potential spies from listening in.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t happy to hear his friend speak for the Wen prisoners, but he did at least listen to Lan Xichen, before speaking.

“I know you’re one of the most compassionate men I know, Xichen. I promise you, these men you spoke about will be punished for their behavior.”

It still didn’t feel like enough, Lan Xichen thought. “And the non-cultivators that are imprisoned here and at the Unclean Realm, at the mercy of similar incidents like the one I stumbled upon today? They shouldn’t be treated unnecessarily cruel. Surely you understand my concern about this, Mingjue-xiong.”

“They’re still Wens who support Wen Ruohan by supplying him with their work. If they responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference.”

“Are you truly saying, any young child, any elderly woman, who doesn’t dare speak up for fear for their lives. They should be held accountable for Wen Ruohan’s crimes?”

His question was left unanswered for several uncomfortable beats of silence. Lan Xichen wished for Mingjue to understand his standpoint, to see how wrong it was to condemn these people. His heart beat rapidly at the reminder he would have not blinked twice at allowing this decision to be made by other people with less scruples, in another time. He didn’t think his other self had been less empathetic to the prisoners after the sunshot campaign, or during it. But from wangji’s memories he remembered that version of him had had to flee the inferno of his burned down home. And he'd simply not looked at who these prisoners were, believing the rules of his clan to apply to the world at large. Lan Xichen had stayed the cultivated plant in his own little clean cut garden, unable to survive in the forest around him, until he’d been taken by the roots and left amidst the wild grown trees by the revelations of his brother and Wei Wuxian.

Nie Mingjue still wasn’t saying anything. As someone who’d become a sect leader at a young age, always at war with the Wen sect due to the two territories lying next to each other, Lan Xichen could understand his hatred, but as his friend he’d always thought him above mixing personal feelings with his decisions as a sect leader. Was justice truly as black and white to him? Or was it Xichen who wasn't thinking clear, letting empathy rule his decisions on this? No, he had seen the group of remnants Wei Wuxian had given his life for, and they’d been innocent farmers. What he was arguing for was not the freedom of these people now. He was arguing for Nie Mingjue to reconsider his stance, to allow for his men to do the same and show a small measure of kindness in this war. Things couldn’t be black and white, because what would that make him? In one life, he’d been able to murder an innocent man, along with Wangji. In this life, he’d sworn to himself to be better.

Not wanting to let this issue lie, he went on; “Who will speak for these people now? I’m not going to close my eyes, Mingjue.”

Because this had been what his other self had done, hadn’t it? Closing his eyes to the truth, the greed in people’s eyes, the way Wei Wuxian had been easily accused of being evil. Standing up now, to someone he valued as a true friend, cost him a lot of strength. He should have stayed silent on the issue, he thought for a fleeting moment of weakness, his resolve wavering. But wasn’t it always easier to stay silent, to be the placid little Lan in his perfectly cultivated garden?

“Xichen,”

“We’re both honorable men, are we not? Would you forsake what is right for your views of fairness? Because I know I can not.”

Their talk had moved into an argument long before, but it was with his daring questioning of the other man’s honor that Lan Xichen knew he was overstepping some invisible line in this. Nie Mingjue stiffened, his face darkening visibly.

“Do you think this of me, Xichen?”

“It’s not what I think of you. I want to believe nothing but the best of you, I do. But in my own avoidance of arousing conflict between us and aware of our positions in being sect leaders respectively, I never spoke this way with you. It was fine when our disagreements would have been over menial things, trusting it not to affect our friendship. I can’t stand silent this time, when staying silent means the cost of human lives. True, they are Wen in name, but it was a Wen who saved my brother’s life.”

“It was Wen Ruohan who killed my father.” Mingjue argued back. His voice didn’t hold the same steel as before though. Lan Xichen knew he had gotten through his friend’s stubborn belief in that all Wens were evil, so he used a kinder tone for his next words. “And Wen Qing who showed me that a Wen could be honorable instead, by healing Wangji.”

Nie Mingjue stepped over to the table, contemplative, looking at the markers on the map spread out in front of him.

“The men who harassed the Wen woman will be made an example of.” His blick hefted onto Lan Xichen who hadn’t moved from his spot opposite the Nie sect leader. “ Let me decide on a punishment for them. Before that though, show me these people you think are worth defending.”

This was good, Lan Xichen thought. Better even, for Nie Mingjue seemed like he was even considering his stance on the Wen prisoners for now. If he could show him that they deserved a fair treatment on the way to Quinghe, then that was good enough for Lan Xichen. This war would not make monsters out of them, he swore.

Chapter 34: justice without empathy II

Chapter Text

Chapter XXXIV

Nie Mingjue had been surprised by Lan Xichen’s sudden defense of the war prisoners. His friend was a very empathic soul, so the fact that he took a stand for people who he saw as in a defenseless position was completely in-character for him. But these were Wens.

Nie Mingjue didn’t know what to think. Dealing with the Wens in his territory over the years had hardened his own heart to the fact that these were humans, not yao. They were cultivators who harassed farmers and civilians. Nie Mingjue hadn’t had a day as sect leader in his life when they hadn’t been at war with the Wen sect. Death was just another possibility in Nie Mingjue’s life, either on the battlefield or through cultivation of the saber.

The people were as Xichen had described them. Huddled together like a nervous flock of sheep, men and women looking haggard and worn. He didn’t know if all were cultivators. He guessed some weren’t, either too young or too old looking to have cultivated a golden core. A woman wizened by age, her wrinkles carving deep lines into her face framed by hair the color of snow.

Wen Ruohan was a tyrant, and he wasn’t the only one among the Wens. Nie Mingjue had seen the sad*stic joy some of their enemies would take in causing pain. Those men would deserve a slow torturous death. Nie Mingjue didn’t think the soldiers who followed their bloodthirsty commanders to be any better. He wondered if they had any face left following someone who spat into the face of righteousness by beheading children.

What had Xichen told him? Looking at the group of prisoners, really looking at them, he saw a group of people with hands hardened from using farming tools instead of swords, smaller forms clinging to the hem of their mother’s or sister’s dress, a sad bunch if one were to look at them. He had seen similar groups fleeing the fire of their razed villages and farms. It caused him to see two images that didn’t fit together in his mind. One, the Wens who threatened his people, his brother, his clan. The other, innocents affected by the war between cultivators.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t a man who lingered in his decisions. In battle, you had no time to overthink every single move. Over the years, he’d honed his skills to be swifter on his feet, he’d trained his body to be a bastion of strength against the Wens thirsting for his blood, he’d let Baxia taste the blood of hundreds drenching the battlefield with it and feeding the saber spirit until even his vision was colored in red.

There wasn’t an ounce of regret in him for the soldiers he’d killed. They were, after all, soldiers. They’d gone against him, knowing it could spell their own death. Nie Mingjue fought fair, even if they didn’t. Their end at his hands was the consequence.

His men, he’d believed, held the same code. They were Nie. Hadn’t he led by example? Their clan motto was to be the strength of the people. They weren’t the righteous Lan, but they also didn’t have the patience for double-faced political spiels. Their personalities were as rough as the lands surrounding Qinghe, tempered by very cold and harsh winters and not so warm summers. At war with Qishan Wen for close to a decade now, Qinghe bred the kind of people who were aware of their mortality but also unable to tolerate the behavior of the courtly Jins.

Seeing the war prisoners Xichen had led him to in these terms, Nie Mingjue was still caught between his own conflicted feelings and the shock at realizing his own men had mistreated non-cultivators. From his maps inside his tent, he knew the area included a few villages too. Most times, the villagers had flown long before their troops took hold of the place. There hadn’t been many prisoners so far, so Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen to change how his men handled it, placing his trust in his commanding officers to manage the issue on their own. Now he saw what his trust had done. Civilians with a smattering of bruises. Fearful women protectively shielded by the few men in the group that actually looked like they could swing a weapon but didn’t stand like cultivators. As far as their chained ankles and wrist allowed them to move anyway. One elder sported a bruise on their temple, the eye swollen shut. He wondered what they did to deserve a fist to the face. Then he quickly shut that thought process.

It wasn’t his own conscience that had roused him from his war plans, but the wildfire in Lan Xichen’s amber eyes, the clear and unwavering belief that these people before him were wronged and Nie Mingjue should not disregard them like he would have had it not been for Lan Xichen’s earlier questioning of his integrity. The disappointment Lan Xichen had shown still burned him from the inside. The pure audacity of questioning Nie Mingjue when they both knew what the Wen had done, how for a moment he had been angered enough to feel Baxia in his hand even when the blade had rested inside her stand to the right of him. Lan Xichen’s unusual strong defense of these people, clashing with him in an argument over it had definitely earned him some fading scorn from Mingjeu and also, respect. For showing he was not just the softness of the clouds, the coolness of a breeze, the inevitableness of a river. He was the cutting edge of ice, the frostiness of snow. Beautiful but also dangerous.

“Do you believe me now?” Lan Xichen’s voice halted the direction his thoughts were going. He was thankful. Not even he had known what to do with these thoughts now that he’d had them. Nie Mingjue knew he found himself often thinking of his friend in terms that described his otherworldly looks. Him and his brother had that in common, but where Lan Wangji never drew his eye in this way, it was like he could never look away when Xichen was in the room. Before, it hadn’t been a problem, since he always found Xichen to be too soft and naive in some ways. They were too different. Lan Xichen held onto his innocence growing up in a sect where 3,000 rules dictated his life and Nie Mingjue grew up with the responsibilities of living with war hungry neighbors.

He exhaled into the stillness of the crisp air around them. “What do you expect me to say?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Xichen look at him, mustering him with an indecipherable look in his eyes. Mingjue wondered when Xichen had changed from the young clan heir who forgot to take care of himself in his worry over his brother to the assured clan leader standing next to him. A slight shift in Xichen’s stance told him; this was still the friend who’d trusted him enough to show his weakness in breaking down over having hurt Wangji in another future. But now, he seemed resolved to not avoid conflict as much as he’d done in their past.

“I know we can’t save everyone in this war. But earlier, I had to protect an elderly woman from the abuse of your men,” Nie Mingjue winced at the accusation and listened to Xichen as he continued, “so my expectations would be better treatment of these people. They’re non-cultivators and they should not be held accountable for Wen Ruohan’s crimes in this.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” Lan Xichen’s gaze was full of compassion when it swept over the assembled Wens. “They lost their homes, their livelihood, and now they are at our mercy. Wouldn't it be better to show them we aren’t like Wen Ruohan’s sons in this? Hatred breeds only more hatred.”

“Spoken like a Lan” Nie Mingjue said, eliciting a huff.

“You have to admit, we’re mostly right with what we teach.”

“Now you sound like Lan Qiren.”

He crossed his arms and turned his head to look at Lan Xichen, continuing, “You know I’m not that happy to hold prisoners in the first place. Even less happy about seeing you were right.”

“Thank you for allowing me the chance to speak frankly back then. I know I may have overstepped with you,” and there was the look Xichen held when he was trying to dissolve conflict before it could occur. He sighed. “You certainly surprised me a bit. You’re not this outspoken normally. But I see this is important to you. I’m not cold enough to harm children, Xichen. Believe me when I say I’ll take care of it, now that I’ve seen your concerns hold true.”

Lan Xichen smiled, the corners of his lips ticking upwards in the small smile that reached his eyes and wasn’t the normal polite smile he donned for other sect leaders and his elders. The one only Nie Mingjue and Xichen’s family got to see. It made Nie Mingjue feel glad this issue wouldn’t come between them.

“I’ll need to interrogate my own men, and listen to what they have to say about this. It’s not clear yet if they are all non-cultivators,” he held his hand up when Xichen looked like he was going to protest, “but I assure you, the violence my men have shown towards the prisoners won’t be tolerated regardless of that fact. We’re not barbarians.”

With these words, Nie Mingjue walked towards the guards who had watched the two sect leaders anxiously from their posts. They straightened upon their approaching sect leader. Nie Mingjue felt a headache coming at the prospect of talking to every single guard under his command, but he suspected he couldn’t trust someone else with this, not after he’d been unaware of the actions of his own men for too long.

Chapter 35: bright and burning

Chapter Text

CHAPTER XXXV

While every day became a never ending stream of training the disciples, strategizing, and dodging the mistrusting looks from smaller sects who bought into the rumours spread by Jin Guangshan over Wei Wuxian’s dark cultivation practices, time to indulge themselves and take a mental step away from this war for just a short moment almost became a luxury. Wei Wuxian remembered in clear detail the restless nights he’d had last time around, when no peace of mind was found at all and he was busy digging up graves, all while trying hard to reign in the resentful energy under the fearful glares of every cultivator around. It was nice to be regarded as a young master with a, while not spotless, at least passable as light grey-ish reputation. His methods were less known, Wei Wuxian taking great pains not to show his full repertoire, carefully balancing his use of resentful energy with orthodox sword cultivation so nobody could accuse him of being a demonic cultivator outright. Chenqing’s eerie tune was used as much for musical cultivation as she was used to command the resentful energies evoked by the spilling of blood. And while Jiang Cheng didn't grasp the repercussions demonic cultivation would have on the unlearned practitioner, his shijie – like last time – had asked him in a quiet moment between them, if he was alright. He'd been quick to assure her then, but this time he took time with her, to be more truthful. Still quick to laugh and say he was fine, since he couldn't worry her, could not burden her with what he knew. She didn't need to be burdened with all his own sins from a life he partially left behind. Looking at her, he'd given her a promise to be careful, one he meant not to break.

The same day zewu-jun departed to aid Nie Mingjue on the Hejian front, uncle Jiang had called them to his office. Another message had come in from Jiangling, asking for backup. The worry over his wife who was leading their cultivators in this region was visible on his face when he asked Wei Wuxian to take the shidis and shimeis with him to Jiangling. Wei Wuxian had wondered why he never showed this side of himself to Madame Yu. Uncle Jiang’s and Madame Yu’s relationship wasn’t for him to interfere with, but Wei Wuxian had wondered, what would it take for them to realise that they loved each other behind the masks they’d donned against the frequent rumours of infidelity and unrequited feelings. The forced silence on the rumour about his mother and uncle Jiang sharing more than friendship hurt not only them but more so Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli who had to live with their parents’ constant fighting it out, dragging their children into their verbal assaults against each other and only seeing their deficits not their accomplishments. Wei Wuxian was sick of it. Seeing Jiang Cheng stand respectfully in his father’s shadow while Jiang Fengmian took a luke-warm approach after having seen the sect leader Jiang Cheng would become in the face of adversity, Wei Wuxian felt slighted for his brother whose talents were overlooked while he was compared with Wei Wuxian’s genius in cultivation. As much as he felt grateful to the family who took him in and raised him, gave him clothes and food and a place to sleep – Jiang Fengmian's inaction until the Wens came knocking at the gates to Lotus Pier had led to the decimation of the whole sect in another life and this time he wasn't really better in leading them in this war.

None of those thoughts were voiced when he agreed to uncle Jiang’s plea. He would take Lan Zhan with him, since they had worked well even when on disagreeable terms the last time around. It was a selfish request to take one of the strongest cultivators of their generation with him, he thought, but knowing uncle Jiang, it didn’t surprise Wei Wuxian to get his agreement the instant he voiced his wish. It was true that uncle Jiang had always favoured him above his blood children, as much as it felt wrong to Wei Wuxian himself who didn’t wat to be treated above his adopted siblings. It didn’t feel right to him to have uncle Jiang’s attention while Jiang Cheng did everything for having a glance of approval sent his way just once. He hadn’t done anything to earn him such lenience uncle Jiang showed him, and it brought more strife in the form of madam Yu’s ire to the household. But this was a war Wei Wuxian wanted to see through, and he wasn't above using any advantage he had to make sure none of his own people would die this time.

He left with the sinking disappointment in his stomach at the realisation of having outgrown the teenaged Wuxian that this body still was; shaped by his experiences, that he couldn't rely on uncle Jiang as the adult figure in his life. He’d needed to grow up in the wake of the Lotus Pier massacre, and he couldn’t mould himself back into the teenaged form he inhabited now. It was a conflicting feeling and one he didn't want to dwell on for any longer for now.

“Let’s go and see shijie before we go,” he said after a moment of deliberation where he sorted his thoughts to stay focused on their task. Lan Wangji watched him for a moment, his gaze seeing through to the core of him, but he nodded after having decided on something. "En. It's early enough for us to fly over half the distance today and the rest tomorrow without depleting our qi completely.”

Wei Wuxian nodded along. It took him a moment to notice Lan Wangji wasn’t following him when Wei Wuxian took the walkway that would lead him to the family quarters where he assumed Jiang Yanli would be at this time of the day.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, his lips forming a small smile. "Wei Ying should go. One of us has to prepare for the flight."

Wei Wuxian gnawed at his lip, Lan Wangji was right, like always. Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought of their tight schedule. IF they wanted to fly right away, they’d need to be brief in their visit to Jiang Yanli. He couldn’t not visit her and say goodbye. “We won’t take long, just… she’s my shijie,” he apologised. He felt guilty, flaunting his good relationship to his sister in his soulmate’s face while Lan Wangji still couldn’t look Lan Xichen in the eyes without the memory of having died at his clan’s hands.

"Wei Ying." Lan Wangji said with far too much understanding in his voice. He wondered how it was that Lan Wangji was this good at reading him, as if he could hear Wei Wuxian’s thoughts when he had them.

“It would be more practical for me to pack everything we need. You won’t need to rush.”

How was it that Lan Wangji seemed to have the perfect solution and still make Wei Wuxian feel warmth rush to his fluttering heart on how good he was, along with the guilt for being spoiled without knowing why he deserved it. It was confusing and Wei Wuxian instantly tried to protest but his protests were firmly shut down with a shake of the head. “I don’t mind.” Lan Wangji assured.

"Next time I'm going to pack our stuff, promise."

“You don’t need to apologise to me for wishing to see your sister. I will meet you at the front gate.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart was still doing that dance in his chest, having him warm all over. He felt ready to combust. Hm, had he known being in love could be this detrimental to his health – what was he saying, he would have fallen in love with Lan Wangji anyway. He’d also practised the demonic path knowing it would kill him.

He needed to somehow convey these feelings to Lan Wangji, so with a step into the other’s personal space, he could reach for that flawless face, cradling it in the palm of his right hand and leaning up to meet soft lips. The kiss was soft, and he closed his eyes to the sensation, picking up on the small sound Lan Wangji made when he was kissed, the reciprociation of it, the scent of sandalwood incense that had imprinted itself into the man from regular use in meditation.

Wei Wuxian broke the kiss, lips tingling. His throat dry, he licked his lips to chase the taste of Lan Zhan, before he remembered his initial goal. He blinked, feeling slight pressure above his hip bones. Looking down he was met with the sight of white sleeves. Somehow Lan Wangji’s hands had found their way to his waist during their kiss. He let his head fall against a well defined muscular chest with a breathless giggle at that. Being with Lan Wangji was at the same time as easy as breathing, but also terrifying, knowing he could feel so much for a single person and having the same intensity of feelings returned.

Getting back to a semblance of calm, he extricated himself from Lan Wangji’s hold, knowing they shouldn’t delay any further. “I should go find shijie. See you at the gate.”

“Mmh.”

Parting from La Wangji at the intersection in the hallways where one way led to Wei Wuxian’s room and the other to the women 's wing where Jiang Yanli’s was situated, he hastened his steps, so he could make this quick despite Lan Wangji telling him not to rush. Unfortunately, Jiang Yanli wasn’t at her pavilion. He didn't need to search far, thankfully. It shouldn't be surprising to find her with the Wen siblings.

Jiang Yanli had struck a fast and strong friendship with Wen Qing, the women finding similarities in being older sisters to brothers who would get into trouble and being the nurturing type. While their personalities on the outside differed greatly, with Wen Qing being as cold and fierce as madam Yu and his shijie being seen as demure and not taking up sword cultivation, appearances could be deceiving. Wei wuxian knew Wen Qing held all her warmth and softness close to her heart where she would share that soft side with her family, and he also knew Jiang Yanli could be a tigress protecting her cubs, fighting not with a sword but with words and kindness. There was strength in kindness, one Wei Wuxian didn’t think he'd ever truly possessed. While he was empathetic to others' loss or pain, he was direct in his likes and dislikes. He wasn't like his shijie who was the kindest person he knew and who would mother hen him and A-Cheng, and scold them for fighting with each other.

All thoughts about sisters aside, Wei Wuxian knew he would miss her. She was doing well for herself, he could see when he came to say goodbye. While Jin Zixuan’s father was trying very hard not to get involved in any actual fighting done against the Wen, the peaco*ck was skulking around Lotus Pier helping – or trying to help, since his attempts ended rather poorly most of the time – Jiang Yanli in her tasks. It was a show of humility Wei Wuxian had observed with raised brows and some scepticism at first, but shrugged at when he saw how it endeared him to Yanli. Knowing the peaco*ck would better himself helped, and it was a lot of plus points he got by standing up to his father. Jin Guang Shan had requested his son to return to Jinlintai with him, or so he'd heard. Madame Jin had been on her son's side when Jin Zi Xuan had asked to stay here. The compromise was that Jin Zixuan wasn't allowed to fight, since Jin Guangshan was sect leader it would be seen as a rebellion so Jin Zixuan had been in a sour mood the last few days about it. But since he'd apparently asked someone to show him how to help around the pier, his expression had no longer been sour as if he smelled something foul.

Jiang Yanli hugged him fiercely, which was still barely a tenth of his own strength for a cultivator like Wei Wuxian. It had been something he'd always needed to hide from them, how weak he'd been after the core transplant. Now he laid his arms around her with careful curated strength, aware of her slender, smaller stature and inhaling the familiar fragrance of her perfume. Wei Wuxian couldn't remember his own mother's scent. Trying to remember her scent had him recalling a similar perfume to his shijie; a soft fragrance of flowers and the scented soap she used for her hair.

"We'll come back," he promised her. She gave a laugh, but there were tears threatening to spill down her powdered cheeks. He hoped she wouldn't cry. He hated seeing her cry because of him.

"My A-Xian," she said instead, holding his face in her hands. She instantly had his full attention on her with these two words. "Let me look at you, before you rush off. You and A-Cheng, always running off to where I can't follow you." She shook her head. An emotion Wei Wuxian wasn't sure he was able to read sat in her eyes. It wasn't exactly sadness. It looked more wistful to him. "Tell A-Ji to take care of his fiancé for me, for I know you A-Xian."

"Shijie!"

She didn't hide her amused giggle at his outcry. Then he recalled the other part of what she'd said. "Since when does LAn Zhan let you call him A-Ji? He lets you call in such an informal way and Xianxian might get jealous."

"You're ridiculous, Wei Wuxian. Of course she may call him that now that you are going to become in-laws in the future. Besides, it’s you who calls him by his birth name."

He jumped, having entirely forgotten that Wen Qing was in the room. In fact, looking around he noticed the bed and the small cot on the other side of the rather cramped room, and a flustered looking Wen Ning. Huh. "You're sleeping here?"

She raised her eyebrows until they nearly vanished in her dark hair. "And I'm grateful to sect leader Jiang and zewu-jun for not having us put in the dungeons." She said dryly. Wei Wuxian hadn’t known zewu-jun had been part of that decision. But, then again, the Lan sect leader was maybe ignorant in many cases and very avoidant of stepping into conflict himself, but she had healed his brother. It was a life debt he might want to repay in some way. Wei Wuxian mentally shrugged, not in the mood to think of what sect leader Lan was doing or not doing to make up for his mistakes. A bit of human decency was not going to excuse that man from all the ways he’d hurt Lan Zhan with his betrayal.

After speaking with both women, he had to go, so he left – not before Yanli gave him some food to take on the way and him promising to share with Jiang Cheng – and met Lan WangJi outside with the travel pouches and their swords. He sheepishly took Suibian, still not in the habit of carrying it with him everywhere like a normal cultivator would. His grip around Chenqing tightened, before putting her through his belt and taking to the air, never fully free of knowing how it felt to fall from such height but trusting in the ability to pull himself up again if he should fall. His core was bright and burning and he wasn’t alone.

Wind in his hair and love for his family in his heart, he flew with determination. Suibian was a steady weight beneath his feet, unwavering like the cultivator at his side he thought, a glance at Lan Wangji whose gaze was directed to the front, pristine white and blue robes flowing like water behind him. He looked like the gods in the stories, and Wei Wuxian may have nearly lost him. He wondered who the entity was who allowed them to travel back. She could have asked for much more. She could have killed Lan Wangji when they saved Lotus Pier but she had not. Maybe even the unknown forces of the universe could have a change of heart.

...

...

Nie Huisang learned some things while he was made to sit on his hands in Cloud Recesses, his only company old man Qiren who was quite busy managing things from here with obvious worry lines on his face for the nephews fighting out there; and Meng Yao who was an exceptional conversationalist but sadly too focused on his own self worth where other people's opinions on him were concerned. It led to the other boy being careful with his words, taking on a pleasant persona trying to control every conversation and never letting it flow naturally despite what he tried to make others believe. Nie Huisang wasn’t morally upright like the Lans who adhered to 3,000 rules with fifty or so about moral integrity, so he didn't mind most of the time. But knowing Meng Yao couldn't be honest, even with himself, was just tiring, or so Nie Huisang found.

At least he had his war fans now. That had been exhausting to accomplish, finding someone in Caiyi who would: one, make lethal weapons only known in Dongying; two, make them able to hold spiritual energy. Luckily for him, Meng Yao seemed interested in this secret project which had begun in the library over cultivation manuals and became something of a bonding experience for them. On his own Nie Huisang wouldn't have known where to start his training at all. Which made point three. Whacking things with a weapon was surprisingly therapeutic, he found. He partly understood da-ge’s adamancy in making him attend training now, feeling his lack of being capable in fighting immensely. Training at first had left Nie Huisang short of breath and exhausted, muscles unused to the strain burning and feeling like lead weights the next morning. But he didn't quit despite the burning muscles in his arms and his calves. He hadn't held a brush in two weeks, the fans in his hand heavier than the thin paper ones he hand painted during his stay here.

Meng Yao’s training regime was efficient, Nie Huisang had to admit. With his core being not as developed as his peers’, it took a lot of meditation and hard physical work to get to a level where he could finally see his efforts paying off. Huisang wasn’t a fool. He’d never reach the same level as Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, or Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. They were prodigies in their age group, and Huisang wasn’t born with the same drive in the first place. Huisang was tenacious in his goal to reach a certain level, but he found it hard to work like this, sweat rolling down his body and having his robes cling to his body in uncomfortable ways every day. No, Huisang would be content when he could return to taking up a brush and taking care of his birds in the unclean realm. This didn’t exclude the calm air he found moving through the new stances, the fans becoming a comfortable weight in his grip, the quality of a deadly dance. There was a lot of control over one’s body involved, the weapons a lot more delicate than the blunt sabres of the Nie. It spoke to his slight frame more than his sabre ever had, and Nie Huisang wasn’t sure what he should think about that fact. He’d never been the typical Nie, to his brother’s lament. He hoped da-ge would still find it in him to be proud when Huisang revealed his cultivation technique to him. To say he’d been terrified of the Nie cultivation style after discovering the curse of the sabre spirits was an understatement. He’d been angry too, at their father, their ancestors, and at da-ge who still cultivated the sabre knowing he would leave Huisang when he qi deviated from it, the inevitable fate of the Nie sect’s leaders it seemed.

Nie Huisang let his outstretched arm sink tiredly, a slight tremble in the limb from training for several shichen on this set of stances. His eyes fell on the war fan in his hand. He followed the ingrained pattern of mulberry leaves, an adage to his name. The metal was warmed where he’d held the fans and reflected the light from the sun beating down on him overhead. Apart from the spine, the fans were made of lacquered bamboo, the motif depicting a scenery in the Qinghe region Huisang knew well. He’d often painted this sight himself, so he’d become somewhat attached to it. And it reminded him on the days he thought of quitting, of contenting himself with the life he'd led so far, why he tried so hard to cultivate his mediocre golden core. He had friends who fought out there. His da-ge who stressed over Huisangs lack of cultivation, but also didn't want him to fight now. Well, Huisang would show him he could take care of himself. Maybe it would lessen the chance of da-ge qi deviating, if he didn't deviate on the spot when Huisang appeared at Heijian.

Proficient in the art of cultivating with a fan, it was time to take his plans to phase two.