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jiangwanyinscatmom · 3 years

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i'm so TIRED of people with vivid imaginations trying to convince every1 the things their brains came up with happened in MDZS, just saw some1 say about lan mom "SOMETHING went down between a creepy teacher and their mother. She gets forced into marriage with a man she doesn’t love and IMPRISONED before eventually committing suicide/ falling sick and dying" like WHERE? the only piece of information was LXC saying "i have no idea WTF happened" so he doesn't know, MXTX doesn't know but you do???

Some of this is a shock for my system so early in the morning... alright... I guess we're gonna go step by step with this just cause people are awful at reading, along with my stance on this particular bit of prevalent discourse.

Since this is greatly misinterpreted for whatever reasons, here is the relevant passage and only one in the text we get concerning the Lan parents. I'm going to add that this is alllll relaid by Lan Xichen and to keep that in mind with what is highlighted.

He spoke slowly, “The reason that my father often practiced secluded meditation was my mother. This place, compared to a place of living… was more like a place of detention.”

Wei WuXian was surprised.

The father of ZeWu-Jun and HanGuang-Jun, QingHeng-Jun, used to be a famous cultivator. He made his name at a young age and had many things waiting for him in the future. However, at the age of twenty, he suddenly backed away and announced his marriage. He had also ceased to care for much of the world. Although it was called secluded meditation, it was much more like retirement. People had come up with many possible reasons, but none of them had been verified.

Lan XiChen bent down amid the clusters of gentians. He gently stroked those thin, tender petals, “When my father was young, when he returned from a night-hunt once, he saw my mother outside of Gusu city.” He smiled, “I heard that it was love at first sight.”

Wei WuXian grinned as well, “The young are often sentimental.”

Lan XiChen continued, “But, the woman did not care for him the same way. In addition, she killed one of my father’s teachers.”

This was beyond imagination. Although Wei WuXian knew that asking too many questions would be very rude, however when he remembered that they had been Lan WangJi’s parents, he felt that he just had to ask. “Why?!”

Lan XiChen, “I do not know. But, I assume that it was something along the lines of ‘grievances’.”

Wei WuXian didn’t ask anymore into this and forced down his curiosity, “And… what happened later?”

“And then,” Lan XiChen explained, “When my father heard of this, of course he was in much pain. But, no matter how he struggled, he still took the woman to his sect in secrecy. Ignoring the objections from his clan, he knelt with her for the Heavens and the Earth without making a sound and told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.”

Wei WuXian widened his eyes.

Lan XiChen continued, “After the ceremony was completed, my father found a house and locked my mother inside. He found another house and locked himself inside. It was called secluded meditation, but it was in truth to repent.”

He paused before speaking again, “Young Master Wei, can you understand why he did such a thing?”

Wei WuXian answered after a moment of silence, “He could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.”

Lan XiChen, “Do you think that this was right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

Lan XiChen looked somewhat lost, “Then, what do you think would be right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

A while later, Lan XiChen whispered, “It could be said that my father did this without a care for anything else. All of the seniors of the clan were enraged, but they had all watched him grow up. They could not do anything except guard this secret, hint to the outside world that the wife of the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader had an unspeakable disease and could not see others. After WangJi and I were born, we were immediately taken away to be cared for by other people. When we grew older, we were brought to Uncle to be taught."

“My shufu… has always had a frank personality to begin with. Because of how my mother caused my father to destroy his own life, he began to hate those who behaved improperly even more. Thus, he poured his heart into teaching WangJi and me. He was especially harsh as well. Every month, we could only see Mother once, inside of this cottage.”

They were two young children, who faced everyday only their harsh uncle, strict teachings, and mountains of books. No matter how tired, they had to straighten their soft backs to be the most outstanding disciples of the clan, the model students in others’ eyes. They could rarely see their closest relatives. They couldn’t fool around in their father’s arms, they couldn’t act spoiled in front of their mother.

But they had clearly done nothing wrong.

Lan XiChen, “Everytime WangJi and I went to see her, she would never complain about how tedious it was being locked inside of here, unable to step out once. She had never asked about our studies, either. She especially liked to tease WangJi, but WangJi, the more you tease him the less willing he is to talk, and the worse of an expression he puts on. He has been like this ever since he was young. However,” he chuckled, “even though WangJi never said it, I knew that every month he was looking forward to the day he could see Mother. He was like this, and I was the same.”

Wei WuXian imagined a young Lan WangJi hugged inside of his mother’s arms, his snowy little cheeks flushed pink. He laughed as well. But before his smile had even melted, Lan XiChen continued, “But one day, Uncle suddenly told us that we would have no need to go any longer."

“Mother was gone.”

Wei WuXian’s voice was soft, “How old was Lan Zhan back then?”

Lan XiChen, “Six.”

He continued, “He was still too young to understand what ‘gone’ means. No matter how much others comforted him, or how much Uncle scolded him, he would continue to come back here every single month, sit down in the hallway, and wait for someone to open the door for him. When he grew older, he understood that Mother would not be coming back, that no one would open the door for him, but he kept on coming here.”

Lan XiChen stood up. His dark eyes looked into Wei WuXian’s, “WangJi has been so stubborn ever since he was young.”

The leaves rustled and the gentian flowers swished alongside the wind, their scent lingering. Wei WuXian’s eyes landed on the wooden hallway of the cottage. He could almost see a small child wearing a forehead ribbon sitting with proper posture in front of the house, waiting quietly for the door to open.

He spoke, “Madam Lan must’ve been a very gentle woman.”

Lan XiChen, “In my memories, Mother had indeed been so. I do not know why she did such a thing back then. And, in truth, I…”

He took a deep breath before confessing, “I do not want to know either.”

After a few moments of silence, Lan XiChen closed his eyes. He took out Liebing. A gust of night wind suddenly sent forth a sobbing note of the xiao. The sound was deep, like a sigh.

Wei WuXian had heard Lan XiChen play Liebing before. Its timbre was just like Lan XiChen himself, as warm and graceful as a breeze and the rain of spring. Yet, now, although his technique was as excellent as ever, the tone evoked a strange mixture of feelings.

The night wind swept by. Lan XiChen’s hair and forehead ribbon were already somewhat disheveled. However, the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader, who had always regarded appearance highly, didn’t pay any attention to them. He only put down Liebing after the song had finished, “Music is forbidden at night in the Cloud Recesses. Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”

Wei WuXian, “How so? ZeWu-Jun, have you forgotten that the person standing in front of you is the person who has broken the most rules…”

Lan XiChen smiled, “The GusuLan Sect has never revealed these facts about Lan Wangji and myself outside of itself. I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m not the kind of person who talks too much. Don’t worry, ZeWu-Jun.”

Lan XiChen, “Regardless, I would assume that WangJi would not hide anything from you anyways.”

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi’s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Now that we have the context of the Lan parents laid out the only definitive answer for anything concerning their personal motivations for anything is "I DON'T KNOW". Their secrets and thoughts literally died with them.

And this entire story Lan Xichen told in the end, had nothing to do with his parents. He did not tell Wei Wuxian about them, he was speaking everything unsaid about Lan Wangji's motivations and his love of Wei Wuxian. He does not care why his parents did what they did, but he does for the one that is alive. His brother who he had just had a bit of a veiled conversation about Lan Wangji's pure trust in Wei Wuxian. Who, in Lan Xichen's eyes, had already rejected his brother's love and did not feel the same, mirroring the past of their father's apparent unrequited love. He is saying Lan Wangji is sacrificing his all, unvoiced.

His pressing of if his parent "are right" is him asking Wei Wuxian what he feels about those sacrifices, if he can see the sacrifices Lan Wangji had gone through. At this point he along with Lan Wangji have assumed Wei Wuxian knows and remembers what he had said within the cave. He is telling Wei Wuxian his brother has alway been this way for those he loves regardless of what they may be perceived as by outsiders.

"Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”"

"I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Meaning, it was not his place to tell this about his brother, but there is no one else that would, and Lan Wangji would never say anything about his feelings again. Lan Xichen is first and foremost worried about where his brother has placed his love, as he knows, regardless of what rumors surround those he loves, his brother will still be forever loyal to them without question if he believes them to be in the right.

Lan Xichen is warning Wei Wuxian he needs to take care in his actions as he approaches Lan Wangji as Xichen is well aware already of how Lan Wangji will go through hell for others he adores. From the start it was never about his parents, as Lan Xichen says, "I do not want to know either,". But what he does want to know is where Wei Wuxian stands with his own feelings towards Lan Wangji or if he is still using his brother as he has thought for years. Leaving Lan Xichen to protect him as best as he can while Lan Wangji stays hurt for others with no happiness for himself.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the Lan parents #It literally does not matter what was between them as they are dead and gone #Lan Wangji is the one left seemingly continuing their tragedy and rumors #the lan parents are a damn metaphore for Lan Wangji's feelings

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ashayatreldai · 3 years

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His Face - Fic

Find this on AO3 or read it here.

Among Su She’s effects is found a bundle of sketches of Hanguang Jun, which inspires a lifetime of exchanges between Wei Wuxian and his husband.

***

Wei Wuxian yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t as though Lan Wangji minded; he still marveled at his husband’s calm acceptance of his less than perfect behavior. And it wasn’t as if he were really tired. They’d been back in Cloud Recesses only a handful of days and most of that time Wei Wuxian had been able to rest, to wander the back hill, to play with the rabbits, to tease Sizhui and Jingyi, to play Chenqing to the birds and the rainbows the sun cast in the light mists of Gusu’s waterfalls. No, he supposed. He yawned because he was warm, well-fed, secure and safe, and in the best company a person could desire, let alone have all to himself.

Lan Wangji sat on the other side of the desk, and in spite of the hour was still working through the backlog of mail which had accumulated in his absence.

“What’s this?” A bundle of papers caught Wei Wuxian’s eye, and on impulse he reached and drew them out of the stack.

Lan Wangji looked up. “After the events at Gyanyin Temple, members of the Lan Clan disposed of the bodies, sealed the coffin in which Red Blade Master and Jin Guangyao are buried, and otherwise put the site in order. Among these activities, Su She’s body was searched and his personal effects catalogued. A quiankun pouch was found, containing an assortment of items. This bundle of papers was also in the pouch. I assume it was forwarded to me because I am the subject.”

Wei Wuxian leafed through the pages. It was a collection of sketches in a variety of media, all of Hanguang Jun’s face, mostly sketches of his eyes. They weren’t half bad: the artist had captured the micro-expressions which concealed everything but hid nothing of Hanguang Jun’s thoughts. But as he examined the pile, he experienced an increasing sensation of wrongness.

“I wonder what he was trying to capture. I mean, here’s ice, here’s anger. I think this one is arrogance or being haughty; and this one has to be indifference. And this,” he huffed out with a half smile, “has got to be ‘you are the scum beneath my shoe’.” That was a micro-expression Wei Wuxian had seen often on Lan Wangji’s face when they were young, as he kept poking and prodding until the carefully cultivated mask his friend wore finally slipped. He spread out the pictures, his eyes searching for the clues he knew he’d find. “Why would he want to draw these things and exclude others? I know a lot of people are afraid of you, Lan Zhan, because you look cold and imperturbable. But anyone who knows you and watches closely can see that there’s so much more to you than that.”

“Su She was cast out of the Lan Clan because he betrayed our secrets to Wen Xu. He was known for being desirous of imitating me – poorly. We can only speculate as to his motivations otherwise,” Lan Wangji commented quietly.

“Mmmm,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “He hated you, but he also idolized you. Who’s to say what came first? Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “The fact he captured your eyes with these strong antagonistic expressions suggests he hated himself, and perhaps wanted to make you the one who hated him in his own mind. It’s easier to hate someone than to live with the pain of feeling rejected or not even noticed.”

“I never hated Su She.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to hate anyone, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Wuxian felt a surge of protective affection for this dear man. “Not even those who deserve it. Su She unfairly judged you and didn’t know you at all. Still, when you think about what people say about me, the scary deranged Yiling Patriarch, anything’s possible in terms of what people do to themselves to justify hatred. Blargh!” He made claws with his hands and pulled a terrifying crazy Yiling Laozu face.

“Wei Ying.” There was amusement dancing in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You do not scare me.”

Sometimes Lan Wangji could abruptly light a fuse in Wei Wuxian and leave him smoking. He laughed and crawled around to Lan Wangji’s side of the table, climbing into his lap to sit with one leg either side of Lan Wangji’s waist. His husband’s hands came up to support his lower back. He put both hands loosely around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangi had removed his silver coronet and tendrils of hair that usually were wound up to hold the headpiece in place trailed either side of his face, making him look softer and younger and so much more vulnerable.

For some time they sat simply looking at each other. Wei Wuxian took in the flawless face, reaching one hand to trace Lan Wangi’s eyebrow, feeling the soft hairs brush beneath his fingerpads. He gently followed the line of an eyelash, delighting in the butterfly kiss as his husband blinked. Out over the swell of zygomatic bone, cupping around his perfectly shaped ear – he really was like exquisitely carved jade, warm, living, and here. He cupped Lan Wangji’s cheek, his thumb finding the hollow between nose and lip and the soft breath of life it held. And those lips, now quirked in a loving bow.

He pulled himself up to kiss the forehead ribbon, to plant gentle brushes of his lips over all the places he’d touched. When he came to Lan Wangji’s mouth, he finally let go, giving all his worship as they joined tongues, teeth, desire, losing themselves in each other.

They released the kiss, and held each other, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Between them energy sizzled – it would be sated later, but it was sufficient for now to enjoy the beatitude of the moment, the closeness, words unnecessary to communicate the depth of heart each held for the other.

***

Wei Wuxian was traveling. His absence itched acutely just under Lan Wangji’s skin, a constant worry. He rued the duty which pinned him in his current dual roles: Chief Cultivator and Acting Sect Leader, keeping him grounded at Cloud Recesses instead of off night hunting with his husband.

It was necessary, he knew, for Wei Wuxian to move; the whole man was a study in movement, in ceaseless energy. He knew the staid and stable pattern of life at Cloud Recesses felt like a box to Wei Ying, and while he could endure for a season, he needed more than what life in Gusu offered, even with rabbits and a back hill to wander for hours.

But oh, he missed him. And he worried too: who would defend him when he had so little sense of self-preservation?

This journey, Wei Wuxian had set off to attempt to mend things with Jiang Cheng before making his way up to Lanling to see Jin Ling. One of the highest values for the Lan was family, and Lan Wangji understood the deep need his husband had for those connections – had encouraged it.

It was just as well Wei Wuxian had mastered the butterfly talisman (and enhanced it). Morning and night he would wait for the silvery wings to alight with Wei Wuxian’s messages of love and thought to whisper through his qi. Sometimes they were profound, poetry. Sometimes playful; sometimes just a kiss. Lan Wangji came to depend on those messages, and on being able to send some back himself: I love you, I miss you, come home soon.

He sighed. This morning had grown tedious. Today was the end of the accounting period for Clan matters, and while there was staff to manage the minutiae of bookkeeping, as Acting Clan Leader LanWangji was examining the records before tomorrow’s visit from the auditor. Not for the first time he lamented his brother’s seclusion, necessary though it was. Dealing with finances was the part of the role that least appealed to Lan Wangji; he felt a headache brewing and was contemplating taking a break when there was a knock on the door.

“Hanguang Jun, mail has arrived,” the disciple said, handing him a bundle.

“Thank you. Please ask the kitchen to send me some lunch,” he requested, taking the pile.

The disciple departed, and he began to sort the items: those about Clan matters, those for the Chief Cultivator. One letter stood out, a simple scroll tied with a red thread. Putting all the other mail aside he carefully opened the scroll and took a breath.

It was an ink painting of his eyes, creased ever so slightly in an expression of amusement. On his brow the forehead ribbon glinted silver, his hair loosely framing his cheeks. He instantly recognized the artist, tracing a finger over the brush strokes as if that touch could unite him with the hand that had made them.

“Wei Ying,” he said, infinite fondness filling him.

Throughout the rest of the day he kept the picture on his desk, glancing at it from time to time. And when it was time to turn his attention to other things, he gently placed the picture in his sleeve to take back to the jingshi.

Every couple of days another picture would arrive. This too became something Lan Wangji expected, an important and significant marker in his day, each picture a symbol that he was one day closer to seeing, holding, touching, tasting Wei Wuxian again.

***

300 years later

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao had come to the Forbidden Room in the Library Pavilion seeking a book she’d known had been here years earlier. Back then she’d been a mischievous girl seeking a way to prank Shufu, and she vividly remembered the green cover. Lan filing methods hadn’t changed in hundreds of years, so that wretched book had to be here somewhere.

She moved a pile of dusty scrolls, cursing under her breath when she knocked a stack of bamboo books which went tumbling over the floor. Patience, she told herself strictly. Breathe and control.

Feeling a little more composed, she bent to restore the mess to order. A red cover caught her eye on one of the lower shelves. She’d not seen that before, and she was sure she’d have recognized it if she had. It was quite distinct, a deep red, tied shut with of all things a Clan ribbon.

Intrigued, she opened the volume, carefully untying the ribbon and leafing through the pages. Page after page were pictures of a handsome man’s eyes: crinkled in delight, weeping with sorrow, dancing with affection, on and on they went. Sometimes the whole of the man’s lovely face was shown: in some he wore the elaborate silver coronet her ancestors had favored, in others his long tresses floated around his face, and the artist had clearly captured a treasured, private, and vulnerable moment.

Around half way through the volume the pictures changed: a spritely young man in black, his underrobe a vivid red (the same colour as the cover of the book, as it happened – and she wondered whether it was indeed cut from the same cloth), a red ribbon in his hair, holding a black dizi. This array of pictures had a different hand, a more understated eye which captured the young man’s energetic aura, as well as pensive moments – the youth had clearly been to hell and back, and Lan Shuoxiao could almost feel the immense love with which the person who’d drawn these pictures had made each stroke.

There were so many! Page sized varied: a compendium gathered together of odd scraps. The last page bore an inscription:

In loving memory of my parents, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang Jun, and Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu. The true faces of both, in their own hands. Love letters sent to dearest him who was, alas, away. Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui, Chief Cultivator.

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Clan records declared Hanguang Jun’s partner’s name to have been Lan Ying, Lan Wuxian. How had they never made the connection before that “Lan Wuxian” was in fact the infamous Yiling Patriarch? Given that the two had Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui’s name inscribed under theirs as offspring, Lan Shuoxiao and many others had assumed Lan Wuxian to be female.

She looked closely again at one of the pictures of the young man in black and red. He didn’t look like the evil dictator of legend. He looked mischievous and full of life, an impression caught in the laughing smile, and so… youthful.

Not that demonic cultivation was these days the issue it had been for her ancestors; these days cultivation was emphasized to be about harnessing the yin of negative energy and the yang of positive energy, holding them in balance and using each appropriately. She doubted the people who had so feared and hated the Yiling Patriarch would be able to recognize as righteous the way all cultivators now practiced as a matter of course.

As for Hanguang Jun… She flicked back to a picture in which his whole upper body had been captured as he played guqin, a study of someone completely caught up and focused on the music, almost in ecstasy. Another private moment revealing something about the essence of the man. He was so beautiful, captivating. And such a contrast from all the other images she’d ever seen of him. Hanguang Jun had a reputation even now, 150 years after he had Ascended, for being cold, somewhat forbidding, distant, just, merciful and benevolent, untouchable, unrivalled in almost all fields. That was how he appeared at the Gate of Gusu, carved of jade, opposite his brother, Zewu Jun, the famous Twin Jades of Gusu Lan now its guardians, their representations inscribed and infused with talismans and ward tethers. Rumor was that no evil could come to Cloud Recesses as long as the Twin Jades stood at the gates. How was anyone to reconcile that formidable image with this? This picture of a very human, vulnerable, gentle man, who was clearly so very much loved by the artist who drew him.

Lan Shuoxiao found herself on the edge of tears. It felt like an injustice, looking at these intimate sketches, that history had forgotten Wei Wuxian as little more than a footnote. And that the righteous Hanguang Jun had been immortalized as a stiff, cold and distant deity rather than someone’s beloved whose heart beat wildly in his chest in longing, and whose blood was warm and red and thrummed with reciprocated affection. She wondered how they had found one another, wondered about the history in which they must have been caught up: how did it affect them? What trials had they passed through before they finally found their way to each other’s arms?

She reverently closed the volume, her original mission in coming here put aside. Thoughtfully, she collected up the scrolls and bamboo books and reordered them, and then closed the Forbidden Room.

***

Several months later a new scene was depicted on the climbing path around the residences of Gusu: a beautiful, crowned Lan sat cross-legged in the back hill meadow, covered in a blanket of rabbits. His loving gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him under a peach tree in full bloom, who was standing and playing a dizi. The legend beneath read: Hanguang Jun and his cultivation partner Yiling Laozu, Lan Wuxian.

FIN

#the untamed #ao3 #mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #myfic

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drwcn · 4 years

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discordance!verse part 8(2/2): there are consequences to their actions, consequences they can’t avoid.

in which wwx is lxc’s husband through political alliance, and there is an affair.

[8.1] | [7] | [6] | [5] | [4] | [3] | [2] | [1] [synopsis] OR

see [discau tag] or [discordance navigation page] for all installments

Both 8.1 and 8.2 are posted on AO3 Chapter 4

The verdict came at dusk.

Yinzhu, Madam Yu's handmaid and bodyguard, bows to Jiang Yanli, "Da-xiao'jie, Wei-gongzi's presence is requested."

Over at jingshi, a senior Lan disciple does the same. "Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun's presence is requested."

"Not to worry, A-Xian, we will go together."

"I shall go with you, Wangji."

"Da-xiao'jie -"

"Zewu-jun-"

"- the Elders request that he goes alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Wei Wuxian arrives at the Lan family's sacred ancestral hall, Lan Wangji is already there, kneeling alone before the altar, flanked by Gusu and Yunmeng's elders and their stern and silent gaze. He braves it without any signs of distress. His back is straight, his posture unbent and his spirit unbroken. Like him, Lan Zhan is dressed down in a plain white robe, no guan to hold up his hair, only a bare strip of white cloth.

To see him relatively well, Wei Wuxian releases the anxious breath he's been holding high in his chest. The last thing he remembers is passing out in Lan Zhan's arms in front of Songfeng Shuiyue. They were beating Lan Zhan with the whip…they were… And then Zewu-jun had arrived.

Of course Lan Zhan is fine. He is Hanguang-jun, Gusu's Second Jade, the second ranked cultivator of our generation…Lan Zhan is fine… he's fine…

Shijie tells him it's been seven days. Has it really? He wonders. Only just? Why does it feel like a lifetime has passed?

Eyes turn on him as he makes his first step into the abbey, and he's never more thankful for the potion the healers fed him pre-emptively than at that moment. He knows he must look a sight, as much as shijie has tried to clean him and make him proper. It could be so much worse; at least he is walking independently instead of being hoisted by disciples. The mixture of milk of poppy and cannabis extract dulls the fire burning along his back just enough for it to be bearable.

Shijie was none too unhappy that he has to trek all the way to the ancestral hall by himself, but Wei Wuxian is not so bothered. When one decides to bed one's husband's brother, it is only natural that one must prepare for the possibility that one's ass is going to get flayed. The situation as it is, his affair is a thing of public knowledge and his reputation is in tatters. Once, he had boasted to Xue Yang that if he, Wei Wuxian, is the second most shameless person in the cultivation world, then nobody would dare to be first.

It was truthfully a bit of an exaggeration, for he had been a beloved ward of Jiang Fengmian, Head Disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, the son of Cangse Sanren, and the fourth ranking cultivator of his generation.

Now… now he's just a problem. Even His mother would be ashamed.

Wei Wuxian stumbles, and the sound of his shuffling steps has Lan Wangji whipping around, eyes growing wide at the sight of him.

Do I really look so awful?

"Wei Ying!" He pushes to his feet but a single pulse of spiritual energy from an elder strikes him in the leg and forces his back onto his knees again. His porcelain mask crumbles and the raw pain underneath bleeds through.

A tinge of red seeps through the white of his robes, like a plum flower blooming amidst snow.

Wei Wuxian is suddenly acutely aware of the waning of Lan Zhan's cheeks and the pallor of his skin. Lan Zhan seems subdued somehow, almost as if… he's still confined by spiritual locks.

Without his cultivation, his wounds won't heal.

Worry lances Wei Wuxian in the chest, hot and sudden. Beneath his breast-bone, his physical heart aches within its cage. Struggling another three steps, he falls gracelessly onto his knees. His breath shakes, beads of cold sweat breaking across his temple and clinging to his hairline. The potion's numbness is starting to wear off, and the wave of pain rising inside him is almost enough to topple him to the ground. Still he holds on. He squeezes his eyes shut and gathers his breath, but he knows he must appear pathetic like this, half wasted before the Lan and Jiang Elders, Uncle, Madam Yu, and all of Gusu Lan's ancestors. No amount his usual shield of devil-may-care attitude could protect him now from his own sense of embarrassment.

"Wei Ying." Someone whispers his name. A firm grip finds his elbow, pulling him up.

Lan Zhan has shifted closer, so close in fact their thighs are almost touching. Cool, gentle fingers caress his face. He holds Lan Zhan's hand out of need and desperation.

Inexplicably, the elders allow this, but it doesn't bode well. Rather than perceiving it as leniency, Wei Wuxian is seized with dread.

Kindness is something one shows to a prisoner sentenced to die.

~~~

Lan Wangji is terrified.

The fact that the elders of Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang are able to deliberate and come to a consensus within half a day, that Yu Ziyuan and Lan Qiren can peacefully tolerate each other's presence without devolving into a shouting match, that neither xiong’zhang nor Jin-xiao-fu'ren are permitted to attend - are reasons for his frightful premonition.

There are candles and oil lamps lit all along the hall, illuminating the tomb plaques stacked neatly one row above the next up the wall of names.

With a nod from Madam Yu, Uncle rises from his seat and approaches him and Wei Ying. His expression is sullen and sad.

"Wangji, Wuxian. The Elders have discussed at length. Initially we had considered xiu'fu to be the most direct solution, but Yunmeng Jiang Sect has made it clear a divorce is not acceptable. After some convincing, Gusu Lan Sect concedes. Despite the rumours and the gossips, we recognize that you are both equal participants in this affair. Neither one is more guilty than the other…and in any case, Xichen himself is not the least bit bothered by any of this. The dissolution of your marriage, Wuxian, is not why we've summoned you both here today before our family's ancestors."

With a permissive gesture, Uncle beckons a Lan healer to enter the hall.

Lan Wangji's blood grows cold as the healer stops before him and Wei Ying, bows once, hands a tray to Lan Qiren containing two identical jade cups filled with clear liquids, and shuffles out without glancing once at either of them.

He hears Wei Ying inhale sharply, the fingers laced between his own squeeze impossibly harder.

So this is what it shall be.

Two cups of poisons to end the scandal, to wash them of their sins, and to restore honour to its rightful place.

Lan Wangji looks to the man he loves with his entire being, and finds Wei Ying's equally panicked eyes staring back at him.

This can't be real.

"Shufu -" Lan Wangji inches forward on his knees. Wei Ying has already taken three hundred and one lashes for him and nearly lost his life in process. He's never owed Lan Wangji anything, and even if he did, surely the debt's been paid in full and then some. He doesn't deserve this. "Shufu - shufu, forgive Wei Ying! This is my fault - "

Lan Wangji is the instigator. Since that first night at the wedding banquet, he's lost control of himself. Wei Ying annoyed him, yes, but only a little. Even since day one, Lan Wangji was able to recognize that Wei Wuxian from Lotus Pier has wit, spontaneity, and heart. His talent with a sword impress even those that disliked him, and he wields it with a sense of right and wrong that is fluid and innate, and has nothing to do with the rigid precepts carved in stone.

Lan Wangji fell without realizing, without warning, slow and sudden all at once.

He envied Lan Xichen who had all of Wei Ying and didn't know it, didn't treasure it. He envied Jiang Wanyin who held Wei Wuxian's sworn loyalty as brother, as family. He envied Jiang Yanli, who could draw the light to Wei Ying's eyes with a simple well-wishing letter and a smile from his lips that was warmer than the hearth in a winter storm, than the sunrise on a summer day.

He envied them because they had so much of Wei Ying and he had so little and wanted so much, but now he has everything…

…and what a price his desires demand.

"Shufu - Madam Yu -" Lan Wangji turns to the matriarch of Yunmeng Jiang and knocks his forehead to the ground. "Please believe me, this is entirely Wangji's doing. Wei Ying is innocent! If anyone is guilty, it is Wangji!"

"No! Lies!" Wei Ying protests, pushing Lan Wangji out of the way to say, "Don't listen to him, it's my fault- I -"

"That's enough." Lan Zonghui interrupts the youngsters' panicked tirade, always the cold voice of reason. "Perhaps you should allow your uncle to finish."

Lan Qiren grimaces, as though he can't make himself continue. Tightening his grip on the tray, and he says, "This transgression goes beyond the breaking of vows or the marriage of two individuals. The dignity of two great sects are at jeopardy. Since you are the ones who started it, you must be the ones to finish it. You must've known the consequences of your sins when you both chose this insane course of action, so we ask nothing but that you find the decency and courage to face them. Neither Gusu Lan nor Yunmeng Jiang are the deciders of your fates. As you are both equally at fault, to blame one over the other would be unjust. Therefore," He presents them with the cups.

"Only one is laced with poison. Which one you choose to drink is entirely up to you."

Lan Wangji's head is light, and he barely thinks before he asks out right, "Why not both?"

Lan Zonghui tilts his head curiously. "Do you think you deserve to die together?"

Of course not. That would be too kind.

Wei Ying closes his eyes as tears fall.

"What do you intend to do with the other?" ask Lan Wangji, glaring up at Lan Zonghui with mutiny in his eyes.

"Seclusion, to repent for your sins -"

"Wei Ying!"

Lightning fast, Wei Wuxian has already swallowed the content of cup closest to him and is reaching for the second cup.

It did occur to Lan Wangji earlier that if he moves quickly enough, he can grab both and drink both, but while he wrangled with how to best execute his plan, Wei Wuxian is already in motion.

Lan Wangji shouts something incoherent as the others in the room gasp. His powers may be sealed, but Wei Wuxian is carrying the wound of three hundred lashes. Even now, they are evenly matched. Lan Wangji knocks his hand out of the way at the very last second, stealing the second cup right out from under his reach and downs it in one go.

The drink tastes like nothing. Like water.

No…

He stares at the cup in hand then up at Wei Ying, assuming the worst, but Wei Wuxian is staring back at him with equal terror, seemingly not in any kind of danger. He must've tasted water too.

Was it… was it a test?

Lan Wangji dares to hope. He looks to his uncle, "shuf-", but then he feels it.

It's not pain, but he feels it, crawling up from his belly and overtaking him inch by inch. He lurches forward, falling onto his palms, the jade cup clattering to the ground.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying collects him in his arms and shakes him furiously. "Lan Zhan!! Stop fooling around! You can't die, they're not going to let you die, I'm not going to let you die, so - stop it! Stop messing with me!! Stop pretending - Lan Zh- Lan Wangji if you die now I will never forgive you!!"

Lan Wangji tries to say something, but he can't. Death is heavy, like a woolen shroud coiling tighter and tighter around his body. He's already lost sensation of his limbs, and even his vision is starting to blur. Whatever the poison is, it works fast.

Wei Ying is full on sobbing now, all pretenses of composure gone.

Wei Ying… I couldn't protect you when I should have.

He wishes he could speak these words aloud, or to touch that lovely face one more time, but he is relieved nevertheless that fate chose him. It is the intolerance of their world that demands one of their lives, but Lan Wangji finds he cannot regret his actions, despite his life coming to an end. To have met Wei Ying was a gift, to have loved him was a blessing, and to die for him now is an honour. Even when he's gone, he knows Wei Ying will be taken care of; xiong'zhang would ensure that much even if he is powerless to stop the will of the Elders.

It should shock Lan Wangji how quickly he's made his peace with death.

Wei Ying's cries drown out his senses, and he wishes again that he could somehow comfort him. Of all the things that has happened since Su She discovered them in the back mountains, his own demise is one which he willingly accepts. Above all else, he refuses to go with a broken heart, because then it would all have been for naught.

Lan Wangji smiles. To spend the last moment on this earth in Wei Ying's arms is indeed not so bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Wuxian feels it the second Lan Zhan grows still in his arms. Eyes closed, a smile lingers on his peerless face.

"L-Lan Zhan…Lan Zhan!! Lan Zhan!!"

He's still warm, pliant. Soon, soon he won't be. No, no Wei Wuxian refuses to let this be the end. It just can't.

Still holding onto Lan Zhan, he lunges forward and grasps onto Lan Zonghui's robe hem beseechingly. "Elder, elder please help him!" But Zonghui shakes him off.

Wei Wuxian glances frantically back and forth at the stone faces around him, desperation and despair brewing into hysteria inside him. Then, he finds it, the one pair of eyes not glaring at him in cold condemnation but pity.

Gently setting Lan Zhan on the ground, Wei Wuxian tries to get up, but his body does not obey. The back of his thin white robe is already soaked through, the vigor of his earlier movement having undone all of the healer's work. Too far gone to care now, Wei Wuxian crawls forward on his elbows and knees until he reaches Yu Ziyuan.

"Yu-fu'ren, please, please I’m begging you, give Lan Zhan the antidote! There has to be an antidote, right?! There can still be a chance - I'll die- I can die right now if you want me to! But save Lan Zhan, save him please! He is Gusu's Lan-er-gongzi, Gusu's Second Jade, my husband's little brother! I've already ruined my marriage, my reputation, my standing amongst the cultivators! Zewu-jun is kind and magnanimous, but even he won't want me now, especially if Lan Zhan is dead because of me! What is the point of letting me live?!! There is no future for me anywhere, but there still a future for Lan Zhan! Yu-fu'ren - no - shimu, shimu please, A-Xian has never begged you for anything in this life, please, if for nothing else than the fact I have been raised under you wings, help me save Lan Zhan, please…"

Madam Yu slowly bends down, hooking her index finger under Wei Wuxian's chin and lifts it up. "You would die for Lan Wangji?"

His face blotchy and snotty from sobbing, Wei Wuxian hiccups. "I - I would. Right now if you wish it."

There's a beat.

"Wangji isn't dead."

It is Lan Qiren that speaks. Yu Ziyuan releases him. Wei Wuxian twists around to see Uncle's hand pressed against Lan Wangji's left carotid. "Just out cold. You'd know if you thought to check instead of letting appearances fool you."

Disbelieving, Wei Wuxian struggles back to Lan Zhan's side to verify for himself. With trembling hands, he turns Lan Zhan over and gathers him in his arms. Though he knows there is nothing to fear, he still can't help pressing two digits to Lan Zhan's neck, checking to make sure the precious pulse is still there. Sure enough, Lan Zhan's heartbeat is strong and his breathing deep and unlaboured.

Alive.

Wei Wuxian blinks, still reeling from the mental whiplash of the sudden revelation, but the steady thrumming beneath his fingertip coupled with comforting sight of that warm, flushed cheeks give him the courage he needs to face what is to come.

Lan Zonghui steps up to him and says, "You said so yourself. There is no future for you. Now you understand now why it always has to be you." From his qiankun sleeve, he retrieves a small porcelain bottle.

The real poison. Wei Wuxian realizes, sagging in relief. The irony of his emotions is not lost on him.

"What did you actually give us?"

"A strong anesthetic."

"Then… how come I'm not affected."

"The antidote to the anesthetic was laced into your pain medicine, which the healers gave you before you were summoned," Lan Qiren explains.

Sleeping…he's just sleeping. Thank god, oh thank god.

Lan Zhan is alive. He's going to be fine. But…Wei Wuxian grows worried again, imagining how Lan Zhan will react to his death once he comes to.

"What will you tell him? When he wakes up, he's going to realize you've tricked him." Lan Wangji can be the most stubborn when he's fixated on a goal. There's no telling what he would do. "You have to… you have to protect him from himself."

"He won't know. We will tell him that one cup had the poison and the other an anesthetic. The poison is slow acting while the anesthetic is fast."

"He will question it. Why the anesthetic? Why the smoke and mirrors?"

Lan Zonghui looks from him to the boy lying unconscious cradled against him. "Does he really want to be awake to watch his lover die in his arms as you just assumed you did? We will tell him it's mercy, so that the remaining party won't have to watch the process happen. He will be allowed to say goodbye to you at the sect funeral. We will grant him that."

"Sect funeral?" Echoed Wei Wuxian, surprised. "You… Gusu Lan Sect would bury me with honour? Even after…"

"That is the compromise." It is a Jiang Elder - Jiang Liliang, Wei Wuxian believes - who explains to him. "The Lans will recognize you as one of their own. No ceremony will be spared. In death, you will be given all honours and decorum befitting the husband of Sect Master Lan. The action of an individual should not affect the relations of two sects. This is a stance the elders of both our families unanimously share."

Wei Wuxian nods, understanding, finally calm after all that crying.

"I'm still worried about Lan Zhan. You must swear to -"

"Wangji will be under guard at all times until the funeral, after which he will be sent to sealed seclusion for three years. He won't have access to his powers or means to harm himself. Time dulls all pain. So too will Wangji's. Someday, you will just be a mistake of his youth."

A mistake of his youth…

Indeed.

Lan Zonghui picks up the cup Wei Wuxian had discarded on the ground and pours the content of the vial into it.

Wei Wuxian wonders what it actually is.

"Do you have any more questions?" Lan Qiren asks him, sullen but not unkind.

"None."

"Requests?"

Requests? Ah yes. Last rites. At least they let him have that, and if he may, there is in fact something he'd like to do.

"One."

"You may name it."

"Turn around."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'd like to kiss Lan Zhan. One last time. So unless you'd rather watch me do it, turn around."

"Look around you, you insolent scoundrel!" One Lan Elder whose name he can't recall cries out in anger. "You're in the ancestral hall, Wei Wuxian! How dare you?!"

But Wei Wuxian hugs Lan Wangji close and swallows his pride. For what seems like the thousandth time since he arrived, he begs, not for himself, but for Lan Zhan.

"Please."

He expects that even after his death, he would be the smear in Hanguang-jun's otherwise pristine history, but he doesn't want to be just that, not completely. This, he will leave with Lan Zhan. Even if only one kiss out of their thousands is sanctioned, it will still be better than nothing.

One kiss, just one.

Perhaps they understood him, for Lan Qiren and Yu Ziyuan turn away without further protest, and Lan Zonghui too. Grumbling, the rest of the elders follow suit, displeased and somewhat disgusted by his shamelessness, but Wei Wuxian is due to die any second now, so they allow him this one offense.

"Sleep well, Lan-er-gege, I've gotta go now," he whispers for no one to hear.

Their last kiss is slow, chaste, and Wei Wuxian prays.

Lan Zhan, for yourself sake, I hope you can slowly feel less for me. I would hate to know you spent the rest of your very long life sad. But maybe...don't forget me completely? How does that sound? Or else I'd be a very sad ghost…

Lan Zhan... next life, let's not be brothers-in-law, hm? If you want, I'll wait for you, however long it takes I'll wait. When we meet again, I hope it's still at night. I never did tell you how beautiful you were under the moon.

I promised, I would never leave you, so I won't. You have me, as long as you want, you'll have me. As long as you want me with you, I am not gone.

Wei Wuxian says none of those things out loud, but the soft expression on his face as he smiles down at Lan Zhan must've spoken volumes. This is a man close to death, and yet his smile is kind, soft, and sincere.

Lan Qiren makes a low cough in the back of his throat, telling him time is up.

Wei Wuxian presses his lips one last time to Lan Zhan's forehead, and lets him go.

"I'm ready."

The healers on standby transport Lan Wangji's body to the infirmary.

Lan Zonghui stands before him with the solution to this disaster.

Wei Wuxian knows that as long as he dies, all of this can end. A decision unanimously agreed upon by Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan, to all those who hear of his story, his death will not be an unfair sentence. There is no bias. No undeserved blame. It is...it is Wei Ying's lot in life to be the one chosen by fate to die. The gods must've seen that Lan Wangji is good and worthy of redemption. As long as he dies, faith and righteousness will be satisfied.

"What is it?" He asks Elder Zonghui curiously. 鹤顶红? Crane's crimson crown? Probably. That is the most likely.

"天子泪."

Emperor's Tears. Wei Wuxian almost laughs. Of course, of course it is.

"It tastes like Emperor's Smile, but it is not. It is a gentle poison and will take some time to take its effect."

It's funny, Wei Wuxian muses as the jade cup is presented to him, how such a lovely thing is to be the instrument that ends his life. He accepts it with both hands, obediently, bringing it close to his lips. The familiar aroma of the clear liquid makes him smile.

He bows thrice, properly, his forehead meeting the marbled ground with a dull thud each time.

Wei Wuxian takes his last drink with the same vigour as he took his first. Eyes closed, savouring every drop. Then, clasping his hands before his chest, he draws all the energy in his body and rights himself onto his knees, facing the altar.

"I, Wei Wuxian of Gusu Lan, repent before the forefathers. May you forgive my transgressions and release me from my mortal sins."

And protect Lan Zhan. He prays. For I will no longer be able to do it.

Briefly, he wonders if there are Gusu Lan forefathers with a sense of humour. For all this to play out front of them, surely the less uptight ancestors must be thoroughly entertained by the dramatics of it all. Death, he imagines, must get boring after a while. In any case, he'll find out soon for himself.

"I'd like to spend my last moments alone."

Lan Zonghui looks to Yu Ziyuan and then to Lan Qiren. An unspoken agreement passes between them. One after another, elders of the Lan and Jiang clan vacate the ancestral hall. The heavy doors grind against the hinge, a low somber moan, as it is pulled shut, leaving Wei Wuxian kneeling amongst the candlelight.

The slow poison is not so slow. Perhaps in his reduced state, its effect is amplified, for soon after he is left to himself the air in his lungs begins to burn. A gush of blood surges up his throat filling his mouth.

If he's honest…okay, he's a little scared. Just a tad.

Hey demons, it's me. Eighteenth level of hell here I come…

In his last conscious moments, his thoughts linger on the sweet tang of Gusu's Emperor's Tears, and of Lan Zhan that very first night standing alone under the eave, away from the wedding festivities, an ethereal figure basked in the moonlight. There is a force pulling him down, and he collapses under the weight of it, right there in front of the altar.

The world is dark before he even hit the ground.

He does not hear the clash of Shuoyue's energy against the entrance, blasting open the doors, but he does perhaps hear the fainting voice of his sister calling his name.

A-XIAN.

Dusk falls, night arrives, and Wei Wuxian is gone.

---

Note:

[shimu 师母] - shi = teacher, mu = mother. The wife of one's shifu

#the untamed #wangxian #discordance #discau #cql #I'M SORRY #not really #lan xichen blew the door down #just fyi #but erm #too late #jiang cheng is not going to be happy #so this is chapter 4 on AO3 #after this it's gonna be a really really really long flash back from the beginning #the following part will be part 4 the wedding and then chronologically from there onwards

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explodingsynapses · 4 years

Text

Day 1: Mid- Autumn Festival

Untamed Fall Fest: Day 1: Mid-Autumn Festival (Zhong Qiu Jie)

His food had gone cold. The mooncakes looked like stones. The lantern was almost extinguished. Xichen still sat frozen, trapped in his memories. It was quiet. It pierced Xichen, unsettled him. Contemplation was the purpose of seclusion but Xichen had always found too much quiet stifling. He heard some noises, and they got louder and clearer until he distinguished a burst of bubbling laughter, a more gentle teasing noise he was familiar with, and three sets of footsteps

Also on A03

Translucent ties that gently bind

Xichen does not realize that it was the Zhong Qiu Jie until his dinner was served with mooncakes and a generic Cloud recesses Lantern accompanied it.

His days have been lost in a fugue, even as he has diligent visitors in the form of Wangji and his uncle. They have a schedule of visiting him and they do not interrupt it, wary of offending his sensibilities.

Shufu is so terribly fond of following decorum.

He thinks Wangji might have made an exception for today and visited regardless of the rules of seclusion or persisted outside his door with the guqin, regardless of whether Xichen deserved it. But Wangji is not here.

Wangji had left to chase after Young Master Wei around Qixi, and he is not yet back. He had told Xichen that he expected to be gone for a couple of months before he left.

It was strange seeing the reluctance and the care in his brother’s stance and words. Had Xichen been like this when Wangji was grieving in his three-year seclusion?

Perhaps he was careful with his words but Xichen’s loyalties and priorities had been molded as a young child. He regretted the pain he had caused his brother, but he never questioned his own actions in regards to Wei Wuxian. He did not question them when he watched the whipped and mangled back of his brother.

His role as a sect leader, his role as a guiding light for orthodoxy, in the sunshot campaign, his reputation, sect’s reputation, all preceded this. So did his own attachments with his sworn brothers, at least sometimes. Xichen was not even prepared to scrutinize Shufu’s entanglement in all this.

Another one to befall the curse of Lans…It was an unkind thought, and unbecoming on the sect leader of a clan that prided on its righteousness. It was unbecoming and crueler on an elder brother.

Wangji did not see him on Zhong Qiu Jie years after the death of Wei Wuxian. Xichen suspects he only started later for Sizhui’s sake. His nephew had somehow constituted a truce between them.

Xichen had never held any qualms about the fact that Wangji harbored resentment even within the truce.

He was overtly filial, overtly the most dutiful sect member, overtly polite. Over years, they even extended the truce for some affection. There were hitches but they were brothers. They could work around the things they did not say to each other.

But every time Xichen looked at the plain white robes, the anguish in the eyes, every time he heard the tunes of inquiry; he flinched from the force of the rage Wangji has unleashed at him years ago on a Qixi.

It had happened something like this. At the end of his seclusion, Wangji had gone to find something of Wei Wuxian.

Xichen was not sure what Wangji found, or rather what he did not find. All Xichen knew was Wangji had returned unannounced on Qixi, and Xichen might not have found out his presence at all if he had not turned up at Jingshi to fetch something of A Yuan.

He had smelled burning flesh before anything else, and as he barged in, he saw his brother mad with grief, drowned in jars worth of emperor’s smile, a smoldering Branding Iron with the symbol of Qishan Wen lying aside on the floor, and its burns bleeding and burning an angry red on his brother’s chest.

“Wangji what did you do?” Xichen remembers whispering as he sunk down on his knees to … what had he meant to do?

Wangji had let out everything he had held back in the few hours until dawn.

“You killed him. You killed my Zhiji, you killed my Wei Ying, you killed the father of my son. And I did nothing to stop you.”

Those words still rang clear in Xichen’s head, in his nightmares. There were other things Wangji said, clear reminders of Xichen’s failure at righteousness, at being an older brother, at being impartial and just, at the unfairness of orthodoxy, how everyone including Wangji was complicit in systematically killing the brightness of his Wei Ying.

Before that, Xichen had held out hopes for his wayward brother regaining senses because Wangji was prudent, not whimsical like the tales told about Lans…

Until then, he could indulge the feelings, he could comfort him through the grief.

One day, the grief of first love would ebb. One day, Wangji would come back to his real family. He might even be able to look at his youth and recognize that some part of it was folly, it was…

Well, that night ceremoniously made any doubts wash away permanently.

Xichen, in his own limited view, had dismissed so much.

He had healed his brother that night, cleaned up the alcohol, burned incense to ward off the stench of burnt flesh; all with tears falling down his cheeks.

Something about that entire night, something about how his brother had beseeched and condemned him that night; it had been so private, so intimate, so deep-seated that Xichen never breathed a word about it to anybody.

He could only imagine what Wangji’s pouring contempt in his anguished eyes if he ever guessed the breach.

How far can a man fall down that he is afraid to meet the eyes of his loved ones?

Xichen did not confide in anyone though he had wanted to. He had wanted to fly in the next few days to Lanling, tell A Yao everything, and have him soothe his frayed nerves and heart about how Wangji was being unfair.

But he had not. It was as Wangji said. Wangji had never chosen Wei Ying over familial duty until the very end, and it was to save a life.

Xichen had frequently chosen other things over family. Wangji’s opinion of it was not even implicit as his brother outlined each of the frivolous reasons where he chose to actively neglect…

Granted, it was intoxication that made his brother talk, but the words were not lies.

He could give Wangji this at least. He could give him the right to resent him and not go complaining about it…

Of course, after A Yao, after Wei Wuxian’s innocence, after finding out about the needless slaughter of his nephew’s birth family; Xichen wondered how much leeway Wangji had given him.

His brother was never as open about his disapproval ever again, not with words. He showed his disagreement by being everything Xichen was not, doing things that Xichen had deemed unrealistic or undoable.

Wangji had always lived by the rules, always lived by the spirit of them; no matter what Xichen or elders had thought. His adherence to them was almost meditative, flippant, and uncaring about other’s perceptions and opinions.

Xichen had always deemed it naïve for the world.

And now, look at both of them. It was Wangji’s beliefs, Wangji’s love, Wangji’s quest for righteousness that held true.

And what was Xichen left with?

He had let down family, for a long list of reasons. Did he even deserve this acknowledgment of a day reserved for families?

His food had gone cold. The mooncakes looked like stones. The lantern was almost extinguished. Xichen still sat frozen, trapped in his memories.

It was quiet. It pierced Xichen, unsettled him. Contemplation was the purpose of seclusion but Xichen had always found too much quiet stifling.

He heard some noises, and they got louder and clearer until he distinguished a burst of bubbling laughter, a more gentle teasing noise he was familiar with and three sets of footsteps that were…

The bubbling laughter had told him that it was Young Master Wei.

Of course, when the door was almost thrown open without a knock or permission; Xichen’s remaining doubt washed away.

“Aah, aah, Zewu Jun, you must blame all the disturbances on me. These two are just following my lead,” Comes as an explanation as the owner of the voice attempts to get his shoes off at the entrance.

His erratic dance does not hide Wangji or Sizhui who do the same task much more smoothly. Sizhui had sun-kissed skin from his travels. He must have run into Wangji and Young Master Wei on his way back, for the three of them to come together.

His brother wears a neutral expression, but he has a light in his eyes as he gazes at his zhiji. Sizhui is smiling but his concerned eyes are flicking from his old guardian to Xichen.

“Ah, good good. You still have not dinner. We almost thought we were late. I have not been near Lotus Pier in quite some time so it took me forever to trace back the auntie’s cake shop, but I promise it’s worth it. Best mooncakes you will ever taste. But my search had us quite late, even though A Yuan and Lan Zhan flew us here as rapidly as they could with me hanging on them….”

It is then that Xichen notes the baskets in Sizhui and his brother’s hands.

Xichen is so shocked that he does not complain or express outrage at such a gross insult and interruption to his seclusion.

As he watches them settle, because a lack of protest is as good as permission, he wonders if he is actually even offended.

Wei Wuxian twitches his nose at the cold food that Xichen neglected, mutters “grass,” under his breath, and hands over the tray to Sizhui.

Xichen is so dazed that he misses a great many things that are now happening in his vicinity. When he gains himself back, the table is set for four and food is appearing everywhere rather rapidly.

None of it is from the kitchens of Cloud Recesses.

Xichen spots and Lotus seed cakes, and lotus root soup with something, and noodles and a basket of freshly harvested fruits. He spies some variations of duck, but that is for Wei Wuxian to consume and is set far off near his tray. He finds himself handed a bowl which he grabs instinctively where Wei Wuxian is piling peeled Lotus seeds, and Sizhui is piling walnut kernels.

Wangji is serving them up. He piles Wei Wuxian’s plate with more chili oil and adds something that Sizhui gestures at. It is all done so nonchalantly like no one is noticing Xichen’s confusion or hysteria.

“Is that the peanut curry from Caiyi you were telling me about A Yuan?” Wei Wuxian gives it a critical eye, even as he gives peeling lotus seeds a rest, and starts picking out more food packets to serve in his plate.

Sizhui nods and goes about explaining the process of boiling or blanching or something. Wei Wuxian nods and asks questions as he keeps pulling out food.

Something Taro, something tofu with plums, another curry with goji berries, and really good peppers.

Wangji throws Xichen a cautionary look at the last one but otherwise comments on nothing else.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian claps his hands in satisfaction when Wangji hands him another basket.

“You forgot the mooncakes, Xian Gege,” Sizhui supplies easily. Xichen is serenaded with descriptions of at least a dozen varieties of mooncakes, as they are portioned and served to everyone.

They eat. Xichen eats too, eats more than he usually eats in a week these days. It is hard not to with the company, with the care, and cajoling from Wei Wuxian.

There is a running commentary on the food and the backstories of all the vendors that the food has been collected from. Sizhui pipes in a few times, ignoring the rule about silence during meals. Wangji never chides them. Xichen does not either.

Wangji hmms and Mnns. His eyes are light and dripping in affection. He even breaks the silence to mutter ridiculous to outlandish stories. His eyes even go softer when young master Wei inevitably leans or drapes himself all over his side.

They do not comment on Xichen’s reticence. Wei Wuxian does manage to extract out words from him, because he has designated himself as the one who is keeping an eye on Xichen’s plate, and keeps piling on food.

It must be the politeness bred in him that Xichen automatically thanks him at a serving in the middle of the meal, perhaps when the shock has settled a bit.

Wei Wuxian just genially smiles back and ducks and scratches his head, and then comes back with his unabashed gusto to make Xichen try even more food.

They release lanterns later. Xichen is convinced to leave the walls of his home behind and walk on the foyer, then climb down the stairs and grace the patch of lush grass in front of his door that he has sometimes stared at in his self-imposed exile. Xichen has broken his silence a few times since the practiced gratitude in the middle of the supper.

“Xian Gege tried to teach me and Baba how to paint lanterns, said you would like it,” Sizhui supplies when they are herding the lanterns together. The lanterns have squiggles and patterns and amateur shapes on them. His brother and nephew have never been inclined towards the arts, despite their excellent penmanship. It’s indulgent and saccharine.

Xichen feels fuller than he did a shichen ago.

It is past haishi. It is much later than when the lanterns are usually released, but the moon is bright. There is a gentle fall breeze.

And he is surrounded by family.

As one of the last lanterns becomes small enough to nearly vanish in the starry dots set against the inky sky, Wangji comes and stands next to him.

Wuxian (he has been convinced to let go of formality some time in between the meal) is chasing after Sizhui and threatening to bury him in a pit, after loudly proclaiming about the betrayals of little radishes. Sizhui, bless the child, is actually chortling, teasing, and ducking as he runs away from the waving hands.

“Wei Ying convinced me that you would not like being alone on an important day,” Wangji says in his soft tenor. It is an apology, an acknowledgment of the interruption, an explanation all rolled in one. Wangji has been talented in brevity ever since he was a child.

“I am grateful. He has good instincts. You did well by listening to him.” Xichen says, tilting his head a little towards his younger brother. They both know it is not just about tonight.

But Xichen has held back on verbal amends for a long time, and if Wangji and Wuxian and Sizhui can all offer reconciliation despite Xichen’s transgressions against them in past, perhaps it is time that Xichen does too.

#fytheuntamed #untamed fall fest #day 1 #post canon #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #food #lanterns #mooncake

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 1

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí

Additional Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation

Summary: Wei WuXian continues to recover from his traumatic near-death experience, and the cultivation world slowly reacts to the event as well.

Notes: I hesitated to write this because I’m already writing two multichapter fics. But I already started this and I have Plans, so it’s too late. So here we go. Please note that in the coming weeks the new semester will start and so my writing time will be much curtailed. The title of this is taken from another Mei Yaochen poem. His poems are really lovely. My favorites deal with grief and longing. I really need to look into finding translations—a translation I found of 不知夢 was haunting. Alas, this pandemic doesn’t make getting books easy.

Parts 1 & 2

AO3 Link

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“Xiongzhang, shufu, I wish to court Wei Ying.”

WangJi had decided to be forward about his desire. Most would approach such a conversation in a roundabout way, starting with idle conversation, but WangJi preferred to be direct, especially in this.

Truthfully, he would have sought permission before now, but Wei Ying was fragile, even after he had finally broken through to him.

When he had brought him to his siblings after his admission of hunger, Jiang YanLi had cried when he actually ate, kept filling his bowl, and had since made it her personal mission to get him back to a healthy weight. Jiang Cheng’s reaction had been stronger; he had given Wei Ying an almost violent hug and demanded he never worry them like that again.

“I’ll try not to,” Wei Ying had said.

“If you… I was going to kill a-niang if you didn’t get better. She’d deserve it. She does deserve it.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice had been filled with vitriol.

Neither sibling had wanted to part from him, particularly after he admitted to having nightmares, and the four of them had stayed in the jingshi that night, with XiChen as an amused chaperone due to Jiang YanLi’s status as a young maiden. WangJi had not expected to be included in the sleepover, but he had been pleased by it nonetheless.

“I was there, but I wasn’t,” Wei Ying tried to explain, struggling both to find the words and stay awake. “I knew what was going on around me, but I didn’t really feel anything. Interacting was hard, like trying to run underwater.”

He had fallen asleep long before hai shi, after Jiang YanLi had stuffed him full of lotus and pork rib soup, spicy baozi, and osmanthus cakes she had personally prepared in the kitchen. He had sprawled on a blanket in what was normally an anteroom of sorts in the jingshi. Jiang Cheng had covered him with a second blanket with a surprising amount of tenderness.

“How did you get through to him, second master Lan?” Jiang YanLi had asked in the quiet that followed. “We were so worried.”

Answering that question was not easy; he had not then been ready to admit his feelings to anyone but Wei Ying.

“I composed a guqin piece for him,” he finally said.

The smile Jiang YanLi had given him was knowing, and made it clear she was pleased and accepting of his intentions toward Wei Ying, though he knew he would still need to formally request permission of her and Jiang Cheng in the future if he wished to court him.

Jiang Cheng, thankfully, had not seemed to get the implication and just shook his head.

“He always was more musical than anyone else in the family. A-Niang hated that, wouldn’t let him play the dizi. Just another thing she decided to be awful about,” he had muttered angrily.

“‘An angry man is full of poison,’” XiChen had advised softly, quoting Confucius. “Your anger will not change her, only yourself.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, but his lips twisted.

“She wanted me to hate him. Kept pitting us against each other, comparing us. Still, I never thought she would…”

He shook his head, and Jiang YanLi squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Blood or not, a-Xian is our beloved brother,” she had said. “And she hates that. It may be unfilial, but we choose him.”

WangJi had insisted Jiang YanLi take the bed, as was appropriate. He settled in for the night beside Wei Ying, xiongzhang on his other side. Jiang Cheng slept on the other side of Wei Ying, sandwiching him between friendly bodies; if he woke from nightmares, he would not be alone.

But it had been WangJi who woke to hear Wei Ying’s soft whimpers and panting in his sleep, to see his furrowed brow and the fear and pain in his features, even asleep.

“Wei Ying,” he had whispered. “You’re safe.”

Wei Ying hadn’t stirred, but had curled toward his voice, wound up burrowed against his side, and let out a soft sigh, his brow relaxing as he fell deeper into sleep, away from the nightmare that had been plaguing him.

WangJi’s last thought before falling back to sleep had been that Wei Ying fit against his body like it was meant to be.

Shufu’s cup froze halfway to his mouth, but his expression was one of resignation. Xiongzhang simply looked pleased.

“He has been doing better these past weeks,” XiChen commented.

WangJi only nodded.

‘Better’ was the best descriptor. At times Wei Ying still seemed more absent than present, but the mind healers were able to speak with him more than they had before and seemed optimistic. He ate more, though he sometimes needed prompting or reminders of the food if he seemed to fade from reality. He was starting to look healthier.

“Sometimes,” Wei Ying had confessed after one of his fading episodes, “it’s like the world is too bright and loud.”

Even in the serenity of Cloud Recesses. The mind healers, he had said, told him his mind was protecting him when the world was too much for him, as it apparently had been for a full year after his near-death.

Wei Ying had, haltingly, started to play the dizi WangJi had bought him, sometimes losing himself in the music entirely. The battered dizi among his possessions, he explained, had belonged to his father, something he had left behind at Lotus Pier after eloping with his mother. Jiang FengMian had stored it away for his return, but instead Wei ChangZe and CangSe SanRen had died on a night hunt.

The dizi had been given to Wei Ying when he was found and brought to Lotus Pier, the only item he had of his parents’, but he had been banned from playing it by Yu ZiYuan. Instead he had hidden it away in his room.

Playing the dizi also often overwhelmed Wei Ying, leaving him beyond exhausted, the memories associated so fraught. WangJi had seen tears spill down his cheeks as he played more than once. But when WangJi mentioned the idea of attending music classes to learn GusuLan cultivation songs, he had smiled.

WangJi had set up a meeting with the instructor, Lan MingKai. Despite the rule against gossip, all of GusuLan knew what had happened at the Lotus Pier discussion conference. Normally this would be displeasing, but the result was not: Wei Ying was treated with kindness. Not only had the instructor been welcoming, he had even offered individual morning music lessons. Wei Ying was, in fact, attending a lesson while WangJi had tea with his brother and uncle.

Overall, Wei Ying was more present, more expressive—nothing like he had been before, but after so long without seeing him smile at all even the small ones were precious.

“Yes,” WangJi said. “It is gratifying.”

Shufu cleared his throat and took a sip of tea, setting down the cup before speaking.

“Why seek our approval, WangJi? Why not his siblings’?”

“Wei Ying is of GusuLan now,” he reminded softly; it was polite to seek sect approval. “I will seek their approval following yours.”

This explanation seemed to please shufu, who nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“It has been troubling to see Wei WuXian so… quiet,” he finally said. “I never thought I would say I prefer him more lively, but…”

In conversations over the last year, shufu had expressed concerns. He had seen people severely traumatized in the past, their personalities changed by pain. He had kept up with the mind healers and offered suggestions on activities WangJi could use to try to engage Wei Ying.

“There have been times the mind healers have not been able to help,” he finished after a moment. “I was becoming concerned this might be one of those cases.”

WangJi set down his teacup, afraid he might break it in reaction, his entire body clenching at the idea that Wei Ying could die.

Shufu watched him, something in his face softening.

“He will still need help in his continued recovery, WangJi. And he may never recover fully.”

“I wish to be by his side regardless,” he stated, and his voice came out hoarse.

Xiongzhang placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as though to soothe.

“You have my blessing, WangJi. You always have.”

WangJi almost smiled at that, remembering how XiChen had pushed him to form a friendship with Wei Ying, how he had resisted. He hadn’t known how to handle his burgeoning emotions, had been afraid of them. Xiongzhang had known long before he himself had.

“You have mine as well,” shufu added. “A marriage would make GusuLan’s acceptance of Wei WuXian more concrete and indisputable.”

XiChen nodded, looking thoughtful.

“After what he has been through, and what I have heard of his childhood from Jiang WanYin, that stability would likely help him heal.”

WangJi resisted his immediate urge to ask after that information, but if Jiang Cheng wanted it known to him, it would be. He refused to violate Wei Ying’s privacy by asking others or even him. If Wei Ying wished him to know, he would tell him.

Shufu interrupted his thoughts.

“WangJi, you need never fear he will face ill treatment here. No physical punishment. No seclusion. He will not be turned out. He has suffered enough.”

Tension WangJi hadn’t known he’d been carrying eased all at once, the fear that Wei Ying would, once healed, face these punishments and, if they were married, be subject to the same treatment his mother had suffered... The last thing he wanted to do was add to the trauma Wei Ying had already been subjected to by making him a prisoner. He had already watched him nearly die and then wither away into almost a ghost once; he refused to do it again.

“Thank you, shufu.”

“He may have a penchant for… antics,” shufu continued. “But none of them have been harmful. They’re simple pranks, nothing worth what he has suffered.”

Silence fell between them, and WangJi did his best not to remember mud-caked pale skin and blue lips, the gurgling gasp of Wei Ying’s desperate breaths under Jiang YanLi’s screams. He feared if he closed his eyes, that would be all he would see, not the gentle whorls of the dark table, the condensation on the teapot, not the steam rising from its spout.

They had been among the first to respond to Jiang YanLi’s screams for help, having happened to be nearby at the time. Shufu, having the best knowledge among them of healing, had not hesitated to dirty his robe in the mud, passing qi to Wei Ying as he lay bleeding from his nose, eyes, ears, coughing up blood and river water, dangerously close to qi deviation after his desperate and dangerous use of his spiritual energy to free himself.

Shufu had ordered xiongzhang to get help, ordered WangJi to help him, clearly knowing WangJi would refuse to leave if asked. Wei Ying had moaned in pain when shufu turned him onto his side, and that was when they saw the tears in the back his clothing that left him almost naked, the blood seeping from lash marks, had noticed the bruising on his face and neck, the bloody fingers that curled in the mud as though seeking something to hold onto.

WangJi had removed the outermost layer of his robe to drape over him, to preserve his dignity in front of the array of faces that were coming to investigate Jiang YanLi’s screams. He had taken his hand then, had watched Wei Ying, eyes wide and terrified, try to focus on him, saw him mouth his name. All he could do was assure him he was there and keep holding his hand when Wen Qing arrived and started snapping orders to everyone.

“It probably helps that he has never gone near your beard,” xiongzhang commented, his tone almost forcibly light, an attempt to dispel the tension.

Shufu seemed to shake himself, as though dispelling the same memories haunting WangJi, or memories of his own.

“CangSe SanRen probably considered her crowning prank the time she shaved my beard while I slept,” shufu said, his voice almost fond. “I rather hope he doesn’t attempt that.”

WangJi hesitated before speaking.

“Wei Ying knows very little about his parents,” he said softly. “He would probably appreciate any stories of his mother you would tell him.”

After a moment of hesitation, shufu nodded.

“She was a very bright person,” he murmured. “Much like Wei WuXian was, before.”

His countenance had a sort of sorrow to it, and WangJi wondered if Lan QiRen, like Jiang FengMian and others of his generation, had also loved CangSe SanRen. Whether she had upended him like Wei Ying had upended WangJi. Or perhaps shufu felt the loss of Wei Ying’s light, and it reminded him of her death.

“Tell him I will speak to him, when he is ready,” shufu said.

WangJi wondered if shufu was ready, but he held his tongue. That his uncle was thinking of Wei Ying’s condition, letting Wei Ying decide if and when he was ready to learn more about his mother, was a kindness. He was still recovering from the damage his adoptive mother, however much she didn’t deserve and had refused the title, had done to him.

“I will let him know.”

They pause to sip at the cooling tea, to enjoy the breeze coming in through the window and the sound of the windchimes gently clinking beyond, the peace of a morning in Cloud Recesses.

“Please also let young master Wei know that he is not required to invent talismans so regularly,” xiongzhang said as he poured more tea. “His recovery comes first. And he need not feel he owes GusuLan for offering sanctuary.”

“Not simply sanctuary,” shufu clarified. “Wei WuXian is a GusuLan disciple, should he wish to be. He need not offer compensation for his care.”

WangJi frowned, considering all that had occurred. Certainly, shufu’s words to Madam Yu had made Wei Ying’s welcome clear, but he didn’t know that Wei Ying had been capable of listening then, so soon after his near death and in the midst of insults and verbal abuse. The announcement of such so publicly at the discussion conference meant that Wei Ying’s status as a GusuLan disciple was known to the cultivation world.

But it didn’t necessarily follow that it was known to Wei Ying.

“Has Wei Ying been informed? Formally invited?”

He watched as his uncle and brother had a silent conversation that left them both looking abashed, and knew this was something that had been lost in the chaos of what had happened, had somehow not been noticed in the last year, an oversight.

“I will speak with him,” xiongzhang insisted. “He already wears GusuLan robes, so we thought…”

“He wears them because they are white,” WangJi reminded him. “He grieves still. I gave him blue robes, and he has not worn them.”

Shufu frowned, his expression almost pinched, close to a wince. XiChen closed his eyes, as he always did when overwhelmed by emotion. WangJi felt the same guilt they did; it had been a year, and none of them had clarified his welcome, too focused on his dissociation with the world, his healing, when this information could have aided in his recovery. None of them had clarified that this was his home.

“I will have a forehead ribbon prepared as well,” shufu said. “We will present it to him, and apologize for the delay.”

“Perhaps you should also make sure his siblings are aware,” WangJi said gently.

Shufu actually winced, which told him the issue had also not been discussed with them, either. WangJi wondered if the Jiang siblings had realized Wei Ying would stay at Cloud Recesses, or if they had planned to follow Wei Ying wherever he went after Gusu.

“I would recommend speaking to them first,” WangJi advised. “Perhaps before I ask about courtship, so they do not assume the two are related.”

“Or dependent,” xiongzhang murmured, as though he had read WangJi’s mind. “We owe them a tremendous apology. After what nearly happened… they’ve feared for his future all this time. It must be one of the reasons they’ve stayed.”

They had many, WangJi knew, and he was certain both XiChen and shufu knew as well. The biggest one was the lady of Lotus Pier, who may have given birth to both of them but could clearly not be trusted.

“We will rectify this,” shufu assured him. “Wei WuXian is of GusuLan.”

“And when he is ready to stop wearing white, that can certainly be accommodated,” xiongzhang added. “He seemed rather fond of black and red, as I recall.”

Shufu twitched but did not protest.

The bell indicating si shi rang, and WangJi rose, bowing properly to his brother and uncle. It was time to collect Wei Ying from his lesson.

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 3

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars

Summary: The Lans arrive. QiRen's perspective.

Note: You get bitties! And hand holding! And grumpy old man perspective! So enjoy! This chapter draws off a scene in the donghua. Also, I am having a problem with shifting tenses, which is in part because my other fics are in present tense and I’m a dipshit who decided this one should be in past tense. Any mistakes are my fault.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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Lan QiRen did not like the idea of taking his nephews with him to Lotus Pier, not if there had been an attack of resentful energy. But the fact that Jiang FengMian’s adopted son was calling for one of them in the throes of fever after the attack…

He had no idea how the boy could know WangJi, especially enough to call for him by his birth name. QiRen recalled the boy was CangSe SanRen’s son, named Wei Ying. The cultivation world had gossiped idly that his father must be Jiang FengMian for him to take the boy in, but such idle talk was more than likely ridiculous.

QiRen did not have the fondest memories of CangSe SanRen, but he would not leave a young child to suffer over a grudge against a dead woman—such grudges were forbidden, regardless. And truly his heart went out to a child who was orphaned so young. The decision to send help was immediate; his decision to join the retinue was carefully considered.

Ultimately, after passing duties to appropriate elders, he brought a contingent from Cloud Recesses that included his nephews, the head healer, and several accomplished musicians familiar with both songs of cleansing and those of healing.

While flying with children was usually something he would not consider, the message from Yunmeng Jiang had come on their swiftest flyer, and he had clearly exhausted his spiritual energy to speed the trip. This combined with the contents of the message made it clear time was of the essence.

QiRen himself was the most experienced flyer and thus insisted WangJi ride with him. Though XiChen had started to ride ShuoYue, Yunmeng was too far for the boy; he had the head healer, Lan ShiRong, carry him.

GusuLan was among the closest sects to YunmengJiang, and so the flight was relatively short. Of course, relatively short for a child was not so, but neither boy complained and QiRen praised both for their discipline during the flight. Dusk had already fallen, night quickly on its way.

They were immediately escorted by several disciples, one of whom broke off to fetch Sect Leader Jiang. The youths looked shaken and unsteady, but still performed their duties with efficiency. Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan had clearly trained them well.

FengMian met them at the main hall, greeting them with as much decorum as possible.

“Master QiRen, thank you for coming. I apologize for the lack of a proper greeting. In other circumstances, tea and conversation would be appropriate.”

QiRen waved the concern off. “The healers should see to the boy immediately. Please, lead us.”

He hadn’t seemed to notice the children, QiRen noted, and he could only assume the boy��s condition was not good for FengMian to overlook such a detail. Normally he would prefer to keep his nephews away from this sort of situation, but if this Wei Ying was calling for WangJi, it was best to determine how he knew of him sooner rather than later.

FengMian quickly led them to the infirmary, explaining along the way, “Healer Kang is trying to bring the fever down. He believes a-Ying’s body is fighting the resentful energy, but we have no way of knowing.”

He was leading them at a speed just short of a jog, and his voice betrayed his worry.

“‘Cleansing’ May help,” QiRen mused. “But Healer Lan will want to examine him as well—the damage that can be done by resentful energy cannot be taken lightly.”

Upon entering the healing pavilion, QiRen had to pause for a moment. The boy lay prone on the examining table, clad only in a light shift with cooling talismans affixed. Ugly scars marred his legs.

Even at his young age he looked so much like CangSe SanRen, it was almost painful to look at him. She had been a prankster, had shaved his beard while he slept, but she had been so full of joy and life and it had been a blow to learn the world had lost such a light.

A low moan from the boy had Healer Lan moving around him, hurrying to the patient, immediately starting to tap his hands across Wei Ying’s meridians in the practiced movement of one used to examining and healing qi. The child seemed nearly delirious, whimpering unintelligible murmurs, limbs twitching, tears streaking his face.

“The children were… upset with his condition. ZiYuan is keeping them away from the infirmary.”

QiRen turned to FengMian. “Your missive said he was calling a name.”

FengMian nodded to the Jiang healer, who gently removed a needle from the boy’s forehead. Almost immediately, he cried out, writhing and reaching out, and QiRen realized they’d had him sedated. Dangerous for one so young, but if he had been like this for hours...

“Lan Zhan. Please don’t leave me, Lan Zhan.”

The words were broken by sobs.

WangJi stepped forward, a strange look on his face. He seemed almost drawn to the boy, but QiRen was shocked when his nephew took Wei Ying’s hand. He could hear FengMian take a surprised breath, as though he had just realized who ‘Lan Zhan’ was.

“I am here.”

His nephew, who eschewed touch and rarely spoke, was doing both now.

The child’s eyelids fluttered, his face turning toward his voice, though his eyes never fully opened.

“Lan Zhan,” came out in a relieved whisper. “Don’t go.”

“I will not.”

There was a soft exhale, and the boy went still, his breath deepening.

The Jiang healer looked relieved at the change. QiRen could only guess this meant Wei Ying had likely struggled and cried out like that most of the time since the attack when not sedated.

“You recognize him,” XiChen said, the first he had spoken in hours, and QiRen noted it wasn’t a question.

“Yiling,” WangJi’s answered simply.

“Is he the one you gave the rattle drum to, a-Zhan?”

WangJi nodded.

QiRen remembered his nephew going missing for the span of about half an hour, and finding him without the toy, but he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, too relieved to have found him. Clearly he had told his brother more. Somehow in that short time he had found Wei Ying and never spoken of it to him. If he had, QiRen could have acted.

“That was three years ago, WangJi,” QiRen murmured.

“Three years?” Fengmian looked pale. “I only found him just over a year ago. He was on the streets so long…”

No one really knew exactly when CangSe SanRen and her husband had died. Neither their bodies nor their weapons had been found, and though everyone knew they must have died it was only due to their disappearance.

QiRen knew FengMian had searched for a year before finding the boy, but knowing he had been subject to homelessness for at least twice as long was horrifying.

“WangJi is sorry. WangJi should have told shufu. Shufu would have helped.”

His nephew’s tone was more emotional than it had been since his mother’s death, his hand still holding Wei Ying’s. QiRen felt frozen, inept, unable to comfort the boy now just as he had failed then.

FengMian stepped forward, kneeling to come level to WangJi and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You would have if you had known he needed help, right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

WangJi nodded.

“Then you did all you knew to do. A-Ying won’t blame you for that. Your gift probably brought him joy.” FengMian offered a small smile. “We cannot change the past, young master. We can only strive to improve ourselves in the future.”

WangJi’s gaze moved to the scars on Wei Ying’s legs.

“He was hurt.”

“By dogs,” FengMian says softly. “Not by you.”

QiRen repressed the urge to wince. So many scars from dogs, living on the streets. The boy’s survival was a miracle.

WangJi only frowned, and QiRen was relieved when his brother stepped forward, smiling gently.

“A-Zhan, you can be a-Ying’s friend now and help him get better. He was calling for you, and you helped him already.”

That seemed to do the trick, mollifying WangJi, and his expression turned resolute. Of course XiChen would know—giving WangJi a task to complete would help him.

“Sect Leader Jiang?” Healer Lan interrupted. He was standing at the head of the examination table, his hands on Wei Ying’s temples. “The resentful energy seems to have… for lack of a better word, gathered in his head.”

FengMian stood, alarm apparent on his face, and QiRen couldn’t find fault in that; maladies of the mind were hard to treat, the complexities of the brain too little understood even in the cultivation world.

“We should start ‘Cleansing’ as soon as possible,” the healer continued, “to remove as much as possible, but also play songs of healing as well. The resentful energy is too thick to see what damage may have been done. The fever is his body trying to fight the invasion.”

QiRen nodded to the musicians to get started, then turned to his nephews. “We should have a repast and rest. It is nearly hai, and the journey has been long.”

To his surprise, WangJi shook his head, shifting closer to the examination table and Wei Ying.

“Promised. Won’t go.”

Stubborn. Why did the boy have to be so obstinate? QiRen could only be reminded of the habit only just broken—of WangJi kneeling in front of his late mother’s seclusion house every month, refusing to accept her death.

Truth be told, Qiren wasn’t certain it was wise to let WangJi get attached to Wei Ying, with his condition so uncertain. He mourned so deeply. But he knew it was too late the moment his nephew stepped forward to take the boy’s hand.

The Jiang healer stepped forward placatingly. “We have beds in the next room. If the young master wishes to sleep here, it could be arranged. A light meal can be sent for him.”

“Only your nephew has been able to calm a-Ying,” FengMian added. “His presence may comfort him if he wakes, or if the fever worsens.”

QiRen took a breath, finding his center and exhaling slowly. He could not make a liar of his nephew.

“For tonight. WangJi, you must abide the healers, and stay out of their way.”

He waited only for a nod of acknowledgement, then beckoned XiChen to the door.

#cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #lan qiren #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan xichen #jiang fengmian #wei wuxian #wei ying #chen qing ling

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