lightamidchaos | Entries tagged with lan xichen

The restless ghosts of the Burial Mounds had heeded Wei Ying's orders. He, in turn, had been careful not to disturb them unnecessarily during his search - a search that had proven unsuccessful, in the end. It seems that in the doing, they had found something of a truce.

(He had still heard their whispers, but had tried not to heed them overmuch.)

Before Lan Wangji left, he had played Inquiry, to invite those who wished it to listen to the music to follow to find peace, and then had played Rest for some time. He does not know if it helped, but he felt that he had to try.

Originally, he had intended to visit the Unclean Realm afterwards, but now feels it better to return to Cloud Recesses, to see A-Yuan, and to speak with his brother in person for the first time since... well, since. Besides, Xichen is likely to know how Nie Mingjue is doing, which will be important. Perhaps it would be better for Lan Wangji to join his brother at the next cultivation conference, no matter how much he dislikes them, and approach Nie Mingjue there.

It is quiet when he arrives at his home, and later than he would usually arrive. He nods to the sentries on duty and passes by without a word. A-Yuan is asleep; Lan Wangji will see him in the morning, first thing after informing his brother of his return. For now, he settles his things into their places and steps through the door into the inn.

It had been difficult for him to leave Wei Ying at the inn this morning, but Lan Wangji knows that if he does not appear to speak with Xichen as expected, things will be far, far worse.

Still, it had been incredibly hard. Don’t go, Wei Ying had whispered the night before, and Lan Wangji could see the unvoiced plea in his eyes as he kissed him goodbye at the door. He had answered it in the only way he could, kissing him back with promise, trying to reassure him in silence without calling out the fear that hangs over them.

He cannot stay. He has to go. If it were only him, if he were a rogue cultivator, it would be different, but he is not. He is the Second Jade of Lan, Hanguang-jun, and his responsibilities lie beyond himself alone. Lan Wangji walks through the door of the inn and back into Cloud Recesses not for his own sake, but for A-Yuan’s, and for his brother’s, and for the sake of the only hope he has of somehow finding a path through everything.

It is early still when he steps into the Jingshi. He takes only long enough to change clothes into some of his best, most formal robes before he leaves it again, moving through Cloud Recesses with smooth, brisk steps. He does not violate the rule against undue haste, but he wastes no time in making his way to his brother’s Hanshi.

Lan Wangji draws a single quiet breath, then knocks.

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[Previously: A brotherly chat.]

Today, when Lan Wangji arrives, he glances around the common room as usual -- and then, on not seeing any immediate sign of Wei Ying, he goes immediately to speak with Bar-gūniang.

After offering a proper bow, he takes a seat on a barstool and begins a quiet conversation. At one point, he pulls out his qiankun bag and removes several pieces of silver ore, small and large, and gives them all over to her without hesitation.

"I will bring more," he promises. "To cover anything he needs, as well as my own expenses."

The next thing he does is take out a piece of bright red ribbon and touch it to the bartop -- without letting go. After a moment, he pulls it back and puts it safely away again.

"That is the color," he explains. "Silver, for the charm. Can you show me examples?"

Small silver charms begin to appear on the bartop, and he begins to sort through them.

He is ready when Xichen arrives, promptly at wǔ hour, having used the morning in meditation to steady himself, so that he will be better prepared to answer his questions, ready for whatever may be said.

Xichen does not ask.

Instead, he opens the way into Cold Pond Cave, meets Lan Wangji's eyes, and silently stands to the side to allow Gusu Lan's senior healer to enter. Once she does, there is no room left for them to talk. She fills the cave with scolding, chirping like an ancient, angry sparrow, ordering him to disrobe and let her look at his back, admonishing Xichen sharply for trying to undo all her previous good work, her hands gentle as she checks the fresh wounds and new bruises and old scars, all three.

"You are healing well," she proclaims, finally. "You should be fine in two days' time. Not that I would expect anything else, as strong as you are. Don't you dare let it go to your head, Hanguang-jun. If you pull another foolish stunt like this, whatever it was--"

He does not look at his brother, although he can feel Xichen watching them.

"-- I will make sure that you are only given the bitterest of herbs as medicine and might just strangle you with your bandages afterwards, do you understand me?" Her voice cracks, and he looks up at her, startled - and is struck speechless at seeing her tears. He nods, staring, and she swats him lightly on the shoulder before she rubs her sleeve across her face, drying her eyes.

"Ah, go on with you, I don't know why I even bother, no one listens to me, not one of you--"

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Lan-daifu. Thank you."

"You are welcome. And that goes for you as well, Lan-zongzhu--"

Her voice is even sharper when she turns to Xichen, but she does not berate him further. There is something about the look on his face--

Before he can figure it out, she bows to Xichen, and he bows in return, then gives Lan Wangji a long look before escorting her from the cave, without having said a single word.

He is not expecting it, when Xichen returns the next day, again at wǔ hour. This time he brings A-Yuan with him.

A-Yuan is fretful, clinging at first to Lan Wangji's leg and refusing to be dislodged. He strokes the child's hair and murmurs reassurance, glancing at Xichen for any sign of why he is so upset. His brother folds his arms and goes to stand by the wall of the cave, without answering.

He is finally able to coax A-Yuan to let go for a moment, but only when he says that it is so that he can pick him up instead. He braces A-Yuan on his hip and lets him clench his small hands in the front of his robes without discouraging him, and waits to find out what is wrong.

"A-yi said I couldn't come see you," he confesses, finally, in a tiny voice, still clinging to Lan Wangji like a barnacle. "Did I do something bad? Were you mad at me?"

He feels his heart crack as he holds A-Yuan more tightly. "No. You did not do anything wrong. I am not mad at you, A-Yuan."

"Then why?"

"I was being punished," he says. "For something I did."

He can feel Xichen's gaze sharpen, as A-Yuan's eyes go huge with surprise.

"You did something wrong?"

"I broke the rules," he says. He will not lie to this child. "Sometimes it is important to do what you believe is right, even if others say it is wrong. But when you do, sometimes there will be punishment. You will have to decide if it is worth it."

"Oh." A-Yuan is quiet, thinking about that, and while he does Lan Wangji looks up at his brother, holding his gaze with a steady, level look. Xichen looks back at him, still saying nothing, and their silent exchange of stares is broken when A-Yuan pulls at his robes again and Lan Wangji looks back down at him.

"I missed you," A-Yuan tells him, and throws his small arms around Lan Wangji in a hug as far as he can reach.

He pats A-Yuan's back, holding him close. "I missed you, too."

He is not surprised when Xichen arrives the next day as well. His brother's point has been clearly made, by now, and all that remains is to answer the question that lies between them.

This time Xichen is alone, and has brought tea to share. The two of them settle at Lan Yi's table and are quiet for some time. He watches steam curl from the cup into the cave's chill air.

"A-Zhan."

He looks up at Xichen. His brother's voice is soft with sorrow.

"Did it have something to do with Wei Wuxian?"

He does not try to evade. "Yes."

Xichen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out very slowly. He waits, while his brother sorts through his thoughts.

"Could it not have waited?" he asks, next.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. "No."

He braces himself then, ready for Xichen to ask next where he went, what he did, all the things he cannot say, only to feel himself turn pale as salt when his brother instead asks, very quietly,

"Is he alive?"

He hears himself make a choked sound, raw with grief. Xichen swiftly leans forward, reaching across the table, and he feels his brother's hand close tightly around his.

"A-Zhan, I'm sorry. I thought -- there was a chance, and I knew if he was, that you would-- I'm so sorry."

He clutches Xichen's hand, trying to breathe, and shakes his head.

"No," he manages, at last. "That-- I-- no. He is dead, Xichen. He is still dead."

"I'm sorry," his brother says again, and Lan Wangji nods.

"I know."

He had been right. Thirty blows, on top of his scars, had been excruciating indeed, casting him very nearly back to the earliest days after his whipping. From the feel of what must be blood trickling down his back, Lan Wangji thinks that at least two wounds have broken open again, maybe more.

He ignores that, as there is nothing he can do about it, and uses his focus on the pain to hone his will and awareness so that he will neither fall nor fail.

(If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost, almost put aside his worry for Wei Ying, who must surely be wondering where he is by now. It will only get worse, he knows, and there is -- as yet -- nothing he can do about that.)

He kneels in the courtyard outside his uncle's pavilion, holding the discipline rods in outstretched hands, and concentrates on not letting them fall, ignoring the need for food or sleep.

Time passes.

* * * * * * * * *

The world has narrowed to encompass very few things. The feel of the rods in his hands, their weight and heft and smoothness. The enduring ache of the muscles in his arms and shoulders. The dull, numb pain of where his knees meet stone. The white-fire agony twisting through his back. The dizziness of exhaustion held at bay by will alone; the burning of his golden core within him as he exhausts his energy to somehow manage it all.

He has not slept. He has not moved. He has not let a single rod fall.

"Wangji."

At first he does not hear the voice coming from behind him.

"Hanguang-jun."

Ah. It is his brother. But why?

"You are to return to Cold Pond Cave. Your time here has ended. I will walk with you."

He blinks, surprised -- and catches himself before he sways. Gathering his remaining strength, he surges to his feet in a single movement and turns to face Xichen.

"I thank you and Xiansheng for your instruction, Lan-zongzhu," he says, formally, and makes himself ignore the look of hurt in his brother's eyes as he holds out the discipline rods to him. "You do not need to accompany me."

Xichen accepts them, and looks at Lan Wangji in silence for a moment. "I will visit you tomorrow," he says, finally. "At the usual time."

Lan Wangji nods to him, and sets off toward Cold Pond Cave.

* * * * * * * * *

It takes the last of his remaining strength to reach the cave without revealing his weakness to any of the disciples that he passes on the way.

He will need to rest, he realizes, before he tries to attempt the crossing later this evening, if he is not going to worry Wei Ying further.

Unfortunately for Lan Wangji, when he reaches to brace himself against the rock wall of the cave so that he can use it to support him as he makes his way deeper within, he finds that the wall has vanished and that he himself is falling sideways through the portal and into the inn.

He manages to catch himself heavily on a table by the door, and slides into a chair with more luck than either skill or grace.

He bids Wei Ying farewell and steps back through the portal into Cold Pond Cave during chén hour, only to discover that he is not alone.

"Wangji."

Rage paints Lan Qiren's voice in ugly shades, a rage he has seen only rarely but is still all too familiar with. Lan Wangji's horrified gaze goes from his uncle, tall and furious in the position of authority behind Lan Yi's table, to his brother, who is standing off to the side, silently watching. The disappointment and sorrow written so clearly on Xichen's face cuts him to the bone as sharply as if his brother had used Shuoyue to strike the blow.

He bows, immediately, deep and formal and with full honor, first to his brother as sect leader, then to his uncle as Gusu Lan's most respected teacher.

"Lan-zongzhu," he says. "Xiansheng. I --"

He has no idea what to say, but it does not matter, as Lan Qiren does not let him get any further than that before interrupting. His uncle's wrath is nearly tangible, a living thing that lashes at him with words.

"The other night, someone was seen outside this cave, near the cold spring. Sneaking around in the darkness like a common thief. I didn't think it would be you, but when no one else was found that it could have been, your brother and I came to investigate and found you gone!"

He stares down at the stone floor of the cave between them, and does not respond.

"How dare you, Wangji? How dare you! Where did you go? Where have you been?"

He shakes his head, refusing to answer, and maintains his stubborn silence while his uncle seethes.

"Three weeks," Lan Qiren snaps. "You had three weeks left in your sentence, and now this? What was so important that you thought it necessary to behave so shamefully?"

He can feel his brother's eyes on him, and dares not look up. His uncle might suspect, but Xichen knows very well what - or rather, who - he would find important enough to warrant disobedience.

If anyone would see the truth written in his face, it would be Xichen.

His continued silence infuriates his uncle, he can tell. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lan Qiren's jaw clench.

"Ten blows with the bastinado," his uncle grits, "for every week remaining. Thirty blows in all."

It does not sound like so much, but coming as it will on top of his barely-healed scars, he realizes, it will be excruciating. Lan Wangji feels himself grow cold as his uncle continues.

"After that, you will kneel in the courtyard with the discipline rods, one day for each week. You will practice inedia. You will not sleep. You will meditate on your behavior for the full three days. For every rod you let fall, I will add another week to your seclusion."

He cannot stop himself; he glances sideways at Xichen. His brother's expression is tight with worry, now, but Xichen says nothing.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Wangji?"

Lan Wangji looks back at his uncle and meets his eyes.

"Yes, Shufu. I accept your decision."

In silence, he follows them from Cold Pond Cave to begin his punishment.