[panfandomsandbox] from one world to another

[lightamidchaos]

The three years of his seclusion - of his imprisonment - are nearly over.

In a matter of weeks, Lan Wangji will be free to leave his meditations in the Cold Pond Cave, free to leave the Jingshi, and free to leave the Cloud Recesses entirely. The whip marks on his back have long since healed into scars, leaving behind only a series of aches that come with strain or shifts in weather. He suspects even those will be gone in a few more months or years.

His heart has not healed, and that ache is deeper. Lan Wangji doesn't think it will ever fade, nor does he want it to.

(Xichen had tried to talk to him about it once, while A-Yuan was distracted and playing with his toys on one of the few visits they were allowed. "I know it will be hard for you to move on," he had said, "but--"

He had looked at his brother, and whatever Xichen had seen in his face was enough to stop the rest of the words unspoken.)

A few more weeks, and then he will leave. Not forever, no; he wouldn't do that to A-Yuan, nor to Xichen. Not now, when it's too late. But for a while, yes - long enough to travel, to search for any sign that might be left, to see if -- if there's any hope that --

(He can't count the number of times that he's played Inquiry in the last three years. Wei Ying has never answered him.)

He flattens his hands against his robes and forces his breathing to evenness, his thoughts to stillness, meditating with as much focus as he can manage until the late afternoon lengthens into evening and it's time for him to retrieve his meal from the mouth of the cave, where the servants leave it. Lan Wangji stores his guqin in his qiankun bag and rises to his feet, then walks through the hidden passage and crosses the portal that leads out of Cold Pond Cave.

Where he ends up is somewhere entirely unexpected.

* * * * * * * *

Everything here is overwhelming, not to mention loud.

He'll forever be grateful to the man behind the bar (or Bar, given that the wood is evidently both magical and sentient, something else he's still absorbing) for spotting him as he'd frozen by the door and realizing the difficulty he'd been in. Gaeta-qiánbeì had been very kind, explaining the nature of where he had found himself, along with the other things that he'll need to know if he intends to either stay or depart and later return.

Given that one of the things Gaeta-qiánbeì had told him was that the dead of all the worlds can walk among the living here, Lan Wangji has no intention of going anywhere else. Not until he knows.

There's a low table off to one side of the main room, out of the way. It's the right height for what he needs, and he quickly makes his way to it.

Within moments, the clear tones of Inquiry are floating through the air.

Comments

[acrookedpath]

Every day, the makeshift bamboo flute seems to require a new tweak to maintain its tone. First it pitched too low, then too high; then only some of the notes went flat, and he feared he'd have to recarve the entire instrument because he'd spaced the holes incorrectly after all. The mouthpiece is as unforgiving and finicky as a child, whining that their bed is too hot or too soft or too -- anything, unless he holds himself perfectly still and angles the flute just the right way.

Some days, he thinks he ought to simply give up and ask Bar for a new flute. Would it be so awful, to replace Chenqing permanently? To stop limping along with a temporary solution in the hope he might one day hold Chenqing again?

He is dead. Chenqing is likely as smashed as his body. Even if it's not -- he is here, and it is there.

He's holding the bamboo flute in both hands, pondering all this as he descends the stairs to the bar. The chatter of the patrons washes over him, indistinct and meaningless. No different from any other night.

And then a single note sounds clear over the din.

Wei Wuxian's head jerks up. Frozen, unable to breathe, he stands rooted as the melody of the guqin spears him in place.

No. It can't be.

[lightamidchaos]

To speak with spirits through music is an art for which the disciples of the Lan are renowned.

Among the disciples of the Lan, the Twin Jades are perhaps the most talented of all.

Of the Twin Jades, it is Hanguang-Jun who has poured everything that he has to give into playing this particular melody over the last three years, bringing him to a level of skill unsurpassed by anyone else in recent memory.

As he plays, each note carries a pure, bright clarity of sound. The song calls out, beckoning to the one it seeks, asking for a response.

Please. Please answer me.

[acrookedpath]

He cannot say if it is the power of Inquiry that hooks beneath his breastbone and draws him in. He is dead, yes, but in the strange way of all the dead here; maybe Inquiry cannot work on him. Maybe it is only the familiarity of the tune, what it must mean, who must be playing it.

He takes a step forward. There, at a low table near the border of the room --

There.

Lan Zhan. The name sticks in his throat. He cannot speak it aloud. Another step; another.

Soon he is but two meters away.




"Lan Zhan."

[lightamidchaos]

His eyes are closed as he concentrates, listening to the silences between the notes, desperate to detect anything that might be even the faintest of responses from the guqin's strings.

Anything that might signal an effort to communicate. Anything at all.

When he finally hears it, it's not the sequence of notes he's been desperately hoping for all this time.

Instead, what he hears is his name.



Lan Wangji opens his eyes and looks up, and everything else in the world stops.

"Wei Ying."

[acrookedpath]

"You're here."

He sounds like a buffoon, but it's all he can think, all he can say. "Lan Zhan -- "

He crosses the last two meters to sink in front of the table.

"When did you get here?"

[lightamidchaos]

At first he thinks he's dreaming. He has to be. Wei Ying doesn't move like a ghost, he moves the same way as he always did, as if - as if he were still --

"Wei Ying."

He couldn't stop himself if he wanted to, and he doesn't try. He leans forward and reaches across the narrow table to grasp the other man's wrist.

It's solid. It's warm. This is real.

He doesn't let go. He can't.

"A shichen ago. If that."

[acrookedpath]

Since he arrived here, Wei Wuxian has revisited that moment on the clifftop a thousand times: in dreams, awake, and only scant hours of mercy in between when he sees his way toward a bottle of wine. Lan Zhan, who never cracked a smile or grimace, yelling his name as if his heart would break; his hand gripped around Wei Wuxian's, slick with blood; the taste of copper in his mouth and the smell of smoke all around him.

And here they are again, Lan Zhan clasping his hand tight so he won't vanish.

He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. He doesn't know what to do.

Hoarsely, he asks, "They've told you where we are?"

[lightamidchaos]

Where we are.

It crashes over him like a wave, threatening to drown him. No matter how impossible it should be, Wei Ying is here, and so is he.

Together.

"Mn."

He still can't bring himself to let go of Wei Ying, but somehow he manages to force more words out to fully answer his question.

"Gaeta-qiánbeì explained. Behind Bar."

[acrookedpath]

He glances over to Bar, where the curly-haired man with his false leg is engaged in cheerful conversation with another patron. "Ah -- yes. I've spoken to him here and there. He's a good man."

He cracks the tiniest of smiles.

"To be honest, Lan Zhan, I'm relieved he beat me to it, explaining everything to you. I've been here nearly a month and still don't understand it all."

[lightamidchaos]

He freezes, even as his eyes widen in clear shock.

"Wei Ying. It has been three years."

[acrookedpath]

"Three y -- "

Now he does laugh, a brief, disbelieving sound.

"No. Three years?" The smile leaves his face first. The color soon follows, draining away to leave him as pale as the last time Lan Zhan saw him alive. "No. You can't mean that, Lan Zhan."

[lightamidchaos]

He curses himself silently for a fool as he sees the impact of his careless words.

With a swift, sharp motion of his free hand, he sweeps his guqin back into storage and moves around the table to Wei Ying's side, more than a little afraid that the other man might faint.

"I am sorry. That I did not find you sooner."

[acrookedpath]

I told you to let me go.

He closes his eyes. Trying to work himself free of the vise around his lungs, he holds fast to Lan Zhan's hand.

Ah, Lan Zhan. As if you would ever give up on something if you set your mind to it.

When it feels as if he can breathe again: "I'm not easy to find, in this place," he admits at last, with another small smile. "It's quite far from Cloud Recesses. And I haven't had such a terrible time. It's only terrible to know I've been dead much longer than I realized."

[lightamidchaos]

For Wei Ying to admit anything is terrible, he knows, means that the pain is likely to be worse than he can imagine.

(Save for one thing - the loss of the man beside him.)

"Wei Ying," he says, helplessly. "I--"

Somehow, he makes himself stop, swallowing the rest of the words back before they can spill out like a mountain waterfall, before he reveals too much and places a weight on Wei Ying's shoulders that he never wanted and should not have to bear.

"--am here now," he says, instead. "What can I do?"

[acrookedpath]

He shakes his head, forcing his smile a little wider. "I'm fine, Lan Zhan," he says. "I have a soft bed, a few friends... all the Emperor's Smile I could want," he adds as the smile turns more mischievous. "But tell me what I've missed in the three years I've been gone. Three years! I hope Cloud Recesses has not added another thousand rules."

[lightamidchaos]

He huffs out a breath at that. Of course Wei Ying would joke about this.

Lan Wangji would listen to his jokes forever, if that's what it took to keep him from ever being as much as in despair as he was before.

"Not that many."

Carefully, he makes himself loosen his grasp a little, enough that Wei Ying can pull away if he wants.

Tell me what I've missed.

His vision doubles, and for a moment he almost seems to see the room in Yiling, A-Yuan between them and Wei Ying sitting across the table, asking for news.

"Other things have taken precedent."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian draws his hand away, resting it lightly on his own knee.

"I see." Gravely, though he's betrayed by how the corners of his lips twitch up. "Only five hundred new rules, then. I suppose that's manageable -- it will only take half a day for the misbehaving juniors to copy, if they write quickly enough."

Perhaps he shouldn't have asked. Other things have taken precedent -- does that include undoing all the damage Wei Wuxian caused at Nightless City? Rebuilding as one would after an earthquake? What has become of them all in three years -- what has Jiang Cheng become, or his orphan nephew?

What has Lan Zhan become?

(The tiny smile wavers.)

[lightamidchaos]

"Quickly is not always readable."

He folds his hands together in his lap, sitting still with his robes pooled around him. Hopefully, it will be enough of a reminder to keep him from reaching out again, now that the other man has drawn back.

He sees the smile falter, and feels a sharp stab of grief strike through him.

"Wei Ying. Ask. I will tell you anything you want to know."

[acrookedpath]

He looks down. Without thinking, he had tucked the bamboo flute into his sash as he approached; now that he's let go of Lan Zhan, it leaves him with nothing to occupy his hands.

Very quietly, he makes himself ask: "What is it that's taken precedent?"

[lightamidchaos]

"Reflection."

Lan Wangji takes a careful breath before he continues.

"My brother has been persistent in his efforts to restore the library, as well."

[acrookedpath]

Reflection. Why does he have a feeling that includes kneeling on rocks for months at a time? Was it a punishment enforced by his uncle, or something Lan Zhan undertook willingly, to atone for the crime of standing beside the notorious Yiling Patriarch?

He played Inquiry for you, he thinks. He has not dismissed your company yet.

"And beyond Cloud Recesses?" he asks. "Has there been word from Lotus Pier? Or Carp Tower?"

[lightamidchaos]

"Jin Ling thrives."

He studies Wei Ying's face as he speaks, watching his reactions.

"Madam Jin cares greatly for him. As does Jiang Wanyin."

And now, here, he must tread carefully indeed. He cannot bring himself to tell Wei Ying of his brother's unceasing, increasingly destructive search. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary.

"He has become ... renowned... as a sect leader. And has committed Yunmeng Jiang to stand in support of Jin Ling as he grows."

[acrookedpath]

"Good." It's barely audible, and he has no hope of disguising the tremor to his smile any longer. "Good. I'm glad to hear of it."

Wei Wuxian dips his head into a nod, the better to hide his face for a brief moment. Swiftly, he reassembles his composure with a deep breath before looking back up at Lan Zhan.

This may be the question he's most feared to ask.

"And what of you, Lan Zhan? Besides reflecting -- have you helped Zewu-jun with the library? Or something else to your liking?"

[lightamidchaos]

He goes absolutely still, and even as he does he knows it's a mistake.

"I..."

Lying is forbidden. He's not sure he could lie to Wei Ying even if it weren't, even if he hadn't agreed to answer his questions.

And yet --

"...have helped him some, yes. When I could."

[acrookedpath]

"Ah, so much reflecting and so little time for anything else!" He tries to keep it light, but it feels strained, like an ankle badly turned by stepping into a hole in the path. "Lan Zhan, if that's all you've done for three years, then we must fix this."

He rises to his feet and extends a hand down to him.

"Come. Have a drink with me. I will not make you break any of Gusu Lan's rules -- you can have tea while I have my wine, if you wish."