Chapter Text
Wei Ying thinks he’s going to die. The Demonic Arm didn’t get him, the Goddess didn’t get him, heavens, Lan Zhan doesn’t even brandish Bichen at sight of him. No, he’s going to die by Zidian of all things, which is strangely fitting, if he says so himself. It’s poetic, actually, and he wonders why Jiang Cheng hasn’t raised his hand already. Surely, Zidian can reach all the way here?
“He’s not going to Gusu,” Jiang Cheng says, and Wei Ying is so thrown off he looks behind him to check for someone else. There isn’t. He clearly isn’t talking to Wei Ying, he’s not looking at him, he’s looking at...well.
“Hm. Agree.”
Hah?
Sensing movement, Lan Zhan’s grip tightens around Wei Ying’s arm.
Oh, wow. Wei Ying doesn’t remember Lan Zhan grabbing him like this. If the thing with the Waterborne Abyss counts, and that’s a lifetime ago, then even that pales in comparison for more reasons than one. If Wei Ying’s truly honest, he would say that this Lan Zhan is stronger than he remembers—but he doesn’t know what to do with that.
Also, ‘agree’ on what, exactly?
“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling gets up from where he’s fallen.
Great. Now he has to explain why he’s bullying children—why he’s bullying Jiang Cheng’s nephew—as if Wei Ying himself isn’t reeling from the reality that he has died, and come back, and is now going to die again.
“Don’t even think about it, brat. I’ll talk to you later,” Jiang Cheng scolds, with a strangely paternal tone that Wei Ying has never seen before.
Jin Ling wilts a little, but says nothing. The two little young masters help him up, wordless because they’re Lans, and Wei Ying focuses on that because he doesn’t know what the fuck’s going on.
These children are just boys, none of them look older than thirteen. He knows the Lans were responding to a distress call at the Mo household, but he doesn’t know why Jiang Cheng would take his nephew out to Lanling when they could’ve done it in Yunping and got the same results. Maybe Hanguang-jun was nearby when they’re at the manor? Maybe Lan Zhan was staying at the sidelines and stepped in when things started to get out of hand? Even so, Gusu Lan must trust their disciples an unreasonably horrifying amount.
Wei Ying hasn’t decided how to go about his second life, so he doesn’t even know how to go about tonight. He should sleep, preferably.
“Well? What are we standing around for, then? Hunt game and throw a celebration?” Jiang Cheng says. He looks to the juniors, and glares. “You’re all coming to Lotus Pier. I let the two of you go back by yourselves, Lan Xichen is going to kill me.”
Isn’t Hanguang-jun returning to Gusu? Can’t he postpone his Nighthunt and go with the poor children? Why is Jiang Cheng acting like he’s taken the little Lans as wards? Why does Jiang Cheng look objectively prettier than last time—
“By sword,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying surprises himself by processing that entire thing without preclude or context. Flying? Mo Xuanyu doesn’t have a sword. He doesn’t have it right now, at least. They’re going to put him in one of Jin Ling’s spiritual nets, carry him like newly-caught fish, and that’s not okay.
“Donkey!” He says. “We can’t leave my donkey!”
“You can buy a new one—”
“Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t know what it’s like to be dirt poor,” Wei Ying pouts. “Little Apple’s all I have, you see. Don’t make me leave him behind!”
There.
For a moment, it’s like an old memory flashing before his eyes. Jiang Cheng puts his face in his hand, rubs it with vigor, and sighs like he’s exhausted. This Jiang Cheng doesn’t look too different than the one he remembers, wider and bulkier around the right places maybe, but other than that it’s all very much the same. Wei Ying feels an unexpected pang, which spreads into rightful guilt along his entire body. He’s only been alive again for a night, damn it.
“Fine. We’re going on foot,” Jiang Cheng relents. “Wangji, let’s just go. Please.”
Lan Zhan renews his tight grip on Wei Ying, and gestures at Little Apple happily grazing in the background. One of the juniors—Sizhui, he thinks—goes to the donkey and takes its lead. Jin Ling is whispering with Jiang Cheng for some reason. The other little Lan, who looks like he needs a change of robes, stares on. Now, Wei Ying’s never thought he’ll ever see white Lan robes look so crumpled and dirty, but here it is.
“We need to go,” Lan Zhan says, and pulls Wei Ying along.
“Hanguang-jun is being so rough!” Wei Ying says. “How do you live pulling poor little me around? Do you like pulling me around? Would you if you knew you were my type?”
Wei Ying expects him to look disgusted, maybe toss Wei Ying into the next tree. Lan Zhan’s a pure soul, he could never handle it.
But he...handles it. Quite well. He doesn’t stop, and pulls Wei Ying with ease, nonplussed and surprisingly considerate. Lan Zhan moves them past Jiang Cheng, and keeps walking.
“Is he?” Jiang Cheng asks, as he follows behind.
Wei Ying turns back to look at Jiang Cheng, thinks that if his tactic doesn’t work on one, it might work on another. He pulls his lips to a wide grin, musters every bit of shamelessness out of him, and asks, “aish, is Sect Leader Jiang jealous?”
“What do you think?”
Wangji, Wei Wuxian thinks. Jiang Cheng just called Lan Zhan Wangji.
-
Something’s...very strange.
Dafan Mountain is, thankfully, just on the outskirts of Lanling closest to Yunmeng. It still takes hours, but cultivators don’t spend years on their golden cores for nothing. While Wei Ying’s new body isn’t by any means strong, he has a burly, well-fed donkey at his disposal. Lan Sizhui surrenders the donkey’s reins to Lan Zhan when Wei Ying mounts, and Jiang Cheng stays by his side on foot.
Considering the circumstances, this is much better than getting sealed in a spiritual net, by a long-shot.
They mostly kept a slow pace on their way to Yunmeng; neither Jiang Cheng nor Lan Zhan say a word, but the juniors—oh, that was interesting. They walk ahead of the adults, but Jiang Cheng keeps reminding them to not stray too far. This means Wei Ying can hear them talk, and it’s weird.
“You think I’m embarrassing,” Lan Jingyi says. “But you used to chew on Hanguang-jun’s robes.”
Jin Ling blanches. “That never happened!”
“Yeah? Sect Leader Jiang says it did, what’s your excuse?”
“Jingyi, please,” Lan Sizhui says. “You told him about that and he refused to have lunch at the jingshi for days. Leave it.”
Uncle Jiang. Jin Ling chewed Lan Zhan’s robes. Jin Ling has lunch in the jingshi—
“You’re all wasting energy,” Jiang Cheng says. “Save the talking for later.”
All three duck at the command.
-
It gets even weirder at Lotus Pier.
They make him dismount his donkey and a servant immediately attends to Wei Ying’s steed. Wei Ying is silently mad he doesn’t even know where the stables are anymore, and only because he’s meant to escape when he gets the chance. Lotus Pier isn’t the same all around, which shouldn’t be a shock, but it still regrettably is. Wei Ying just hopes that Jiang Cheng finds nothing too interesting on Mo Xuanyu and lets him go. He can decide on how he’ll fulfill the poor boy’s sacrificial wish later.
The juniors disperse at the flick of Jiang Cheng’s finger, and Wei Ying wonders whether the little Lans know where they’re going. Perhaps an inn? Maybe Lotus Pier has an entire hall of guest rooms now? Maybe Jin Ling is in charge of accommodations? Where are Jin Ling’s parents?
“This way,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying’s thoughts are so jumbled he cannot find coherence in the sea of noise. He doesn’t know Lotus Pier’s new layout, but he knows they’re now in fancier, more private portions of the area. There’s hardly any servants around, and the hallway itself appears to only have three doors. Wei Ying can’t tell which architectural detail gives it away, but he feels like they’re near Jiang Cheng’s private quarters.
More importantly, if he’s right, how does Lan Zhan know where the private quarters are?
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a no,” Jiang Cheng says, and Wei Ying realizes he’s talking to Lan Zhan. “Let him sleep. His golden core’s about to give out.”
“Hm. No strenuous activities.”
Wei Ying chokes. “What—!”
“We’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng says.
Lan Zhan does what he does best, which is hum noncommittally. He releases Wei Ying, and gestures at the farthest of the three doors. Wei Ying points at himself, to confirm that it’s him that’s indeed being offered a room in the private quarters, and Lan Zhan nods.
“We’ll see you,” Lan Zhan says.
Dazed, Wei Ying flees to the offered room, slides in without looking back. There’s no candles around, and if there are any, he can’t see them in a room this dark. He doesn’t want to walk back out and ask for them either, so he pads his way to what he thinks is the bed and throws himself unto it.
This might tragically be the first time in so long that his new body’s been on a bed, and not on compact dirt, because Wei Ying immediately goes boneless along every limb. His neck and shoulders hurt a little, either from travel or having to lie on uneven ground, but that’s inconsequential to his everything demanding he closed his eyes. Wow, he’s so tired, after all. It would not have done him any good to try to escape earlier.
He’ll think about what to do at daybreak.
-
Wei Ying wakes up to terrible back pain. Which, isn’t the worst he’s gone through, but it’s only the second morning he’s woken up since you know. This body has some semblance of a golden core and it still isn’t much. He just hopes whatever revenge path Mo Xuanyu’s set himself on is worth it.
If Wei Ying doesn’t manage to satisfy the curse, then it’s both his body and soul that’s going to waste. Even if Wei Ying lives with the guilt for a thousand years, it still won’t bring Mo Xuanyu back.
Anyway.
Memories of the past and images of the present clash once more, as he opens his eyes. Sunlight streams through the now open windows, and it leads his gaze to an ostensibly nostalgic drawing on the wall. It’s looks like his old bedroom, but not quite. His old bedroom isn’t supposed to face the sunrise, nor should it look this neat. It’s never smelled of freshly brewed tea, nor has there ever been soft, whispered conversations from inside.
Wait, it’s the early morning? He doesn’t wake up—
“You’re awake.”
Wei Ying blinks, wonders if he can just pretend to go back to sleep. He’s never woken up to Jiang Cheng within close proximity of him in a long time. And yes, even excluding his time hovering in nothing and not alive, it’s still a long time.
“I know you’re awake, idiot. Get up,” Jiang Cheng says. “The tea will get cold and you’ll have wasted Wangji’s time.”
Ah, yes. He better not fuck around, because Jiang Cheng now cares about not offending Wangji of all people. Maybe this isn’t the world he’s come from, after all. Maybe they’re several centuries further in time, and he’s only talking to reincarnations of Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng. Maybe this version of them have never met Wei Ying at all, and they’re strangely welcoming enough to serve him tea in his own room, at his convenience.
Or...is Mo Xuanyu the person they’ve met before? Curious thing.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says.
Who?
Wei Ying sits up so fast he’s dizzy with it, his limbs tangling in the sheets. He sees them when his vision stabilizes, in a strange picture of ease and familiarity, sat across each other by the table in the middle of the room. Lan Zhan gasps when he sees Wei Ying sit, and Jiang Cheng just looks bored.
“Hanguang-jun, I know I’m way out of your league, but it is rude to call me by someone else’s name!” Wei Ying forces a laugh, and it’s an agonizing thing. “People tell me honorable Hanguang-jun can do no wrong, but apparently he doesn’t care what this poor servant feels!”
He keeps up with the smile and thinks it works. Lan Zhan looks absolutely confounded, which is great. If Wei Ying gets really, really weird about it, they’ll kick him out. Jiang Cheng won’t even think about interrogating him, he’ll be so disgusted he’ll avoid any and every chance of associating with him.
“Oh, dear. He actually lost his fucking mind.”
Lan Zhan snaps to look at Jiang Cheng, and he looks offended. Or maybe he doesn’t. Wei Ying doesn’t know anymore.
“Come sit,” Jiang Cheng says. When Wei Ying does nothing, he raises both eyebrows. Like a challenge. “I won’t ask again.”
He wonders if he can climb out the windows. That would’ve been a nice option if he’d done it as soon as he woke up, take them by surprise and all that. But now, he has two watchful eyes on him. Even if he manages to not break anything important, any of his two guards can take a sword, swoop in, and haul him back inside. There’s no winning here.
Wei Ying sighs, and throws his feet over the side of the bed. His legs feel heavy as he walks, but his head feels light. He thinks his limbs are all moving on their own, and Wei Ying’s somehow lost control of them in between the order and his his reluctant obedience. Lan Zhan taps the floor mat right beside him, and Wei Ying sinks unto it like a disjointed puppet.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, again.
There might not be an escape at this point, but he can try. Wei Ying isn’t known for the lack of trying. He forces another smile, more painful than the last, and prepares to speak. Jiang Cheng beats him to it.
“What’s the point of denying it?” Jiang Cheng actually looks angry. Which, isn’t an uncommon thing, everyone’s seen him angry. But Jiang Cheng’s anger isn’t a lasting thing. It’s more a compulsive reaction born from his usual annoyance at anything and everything he sees.
Right now, Jiang Cheng looks like he might combust, vibrating at an unseen irritation Wei Ying instigated.
Wei Ying’s lips move on their own, trembling very slightly. “Hi.”
Jiang Cheng rises from where he’s sat, and Wei Ying flinches on instinct. He expects the blow to somehow land on his face, but he thinks he deserves it, so he doesn’t take cover. He counts his heartbeats, gets to three, and feels Jiang Cheng embrace him.
“Ah—”
“I want to punch you in the face—” Jiang Cheng starts.
It’s awkward, thanks to the table between them, but Jiang Cheng’s arms are tight around his neck, and his warmth is proof that he’s real. Wei Ying can’t see his face, but Jiang Cheng bites out each word, and it still doesn’t make sense. Everything about this doesn’t make sense; not last night, not the juniors in Lotus Pier, and definitely not Lan Zhan sitting prettily in the middle of Wei Ying’s private quarters.
“—but Wangji’s going to fight me about it and I don’t want to waste time.”
There it is again.
It’s the address that Lan Zhan’s only ever allowed Lan Xichen to call him. It’s so strange coming from Jiang Cheng, even if Wei Ying knows his shidi isn’t so rigid that he calls everyone by courtesy name. Jiang Cheng had always told him to shut up about Lan Zhan since they were boys, so what’s changed? Why is Jiang Cheng the one who can’t shut up about him?
Jiang Cheng pulls away, and he looks a little out of whack. His robes are a bit skewed, it’s not a state he just allows anyone to see him in, but he doesn’t seem to care. Jiang Cheng clumsily returns to his position across them, then he looks to Lan Zhan. “Well? You waited this long, got nothing to say?”
One of Lan Zhan’s eyes twitches, very slightly, but his face is otherwise impassive. “Later.”
Wei Ying gawks.
Last night, Wei Ying had thought it’s going to be funny. Just briefly, when he’s ruminating the eminent possibility of being found out. Now, he truly doesn’t, but he also doesn’t understand what he feels. There’s a bit of relief, after the acknowledging that yes, I am alive. But there’s a what now there somewhere, and knows no other way to start but ask, “How long?”
The air changes, just like that. Wei Ying sees Lan Zhan’s lips turn to a thin line, corners tense, before he finds Jiang Cheng in what’s basically the same uncomfortable hesitation. Jiang Cheng doesn’t look annoyed anymore, but dazed. Like Wei Ying had taken an entire tub of water from Gusu’s Cold Springs, and rudely splashed the two of them.
“Nine,” Lan Zhan says, breathes it out like wishes no one hears.
Nine. Nine months doesn’t make sense, because Jin Ling’s so big now.
Nine.
“Oh,” Wei Ying says. “That long, huh.”
“I always thought you’d come back,” Jiang Cheng says. He’s spinning Zidian around his finger, an old habit. “I didn’t think it’d take you so long.”
You’re stubborn as fuck, Jiang Cheng’s told him once. What a hypocrite. From the brief encounter he’s had with Jin Ling, it looks like the mulishness rubs off. Or runs in the family. It really doesn’t take that long for Jiang Cheng to sprinkle his influence on other people, whether he admits it or not.
“Wait,” Wei Ying snaps up. “Did you send your nine year old nephew out on his own?”
Jiang Cheng frowns. “I was helping him set up nets! Do you know how hard it is to keep children still? A nightmare.”
Wei Ying gears up to reply, but—as if he needs more reminder that the world’s changed now—Lan Zhan speaks.
“You did lose him.”
There’s a choke, and Wei Ying realizes it’s coming from himself. Lan Zhan, honorable Hanguang-jun, the Second Jade of Lan, has back-talked Jiang Cheng. It must be a common event, because no one else seems to think it’s the wildest thing that’s happened in the history of man.
“He ran away,” Jiang Cheng says. “I told him to stay while I installed the nets and he left.”
What the fuck is even happening—
“Okay,” Lan Zhan says, still dry and monotone. “Say that to Jiang Yanli.”
Jiang Cheng looks taken aback, jerks, then laughs. He covers his mouth when he huffs far too loud, shaking his head. Wei Ying has to admit that it’s genuinely funny. He’s been caught off-guard as well. But his mind is a sludge, is late to process that Lan Zhan made a joke, and by the time he’s caught up, the moment’s over.
It’s so strange. This is the first time since last night Wei Ying’s ever seen his shidi laugh, and the more he thinks about it, the more he’s skewing off-axis. The memories of Jiang Cheng’s laughter are old, older than the ones that Wei Ying remembers like dreams. By his side, he’s hit with another blow, of memories seeing Lan Zhan’s tiny smile form in the handful of moments they spent nearly a decade ago. Lan Zhan’s smiling now, and Wei Ying’s heart is lodged in his throat.
“What the fuck,” Wei Ying says.
-
Wei Ying has an idea. It’s not weird, just astonishing. Unexpected.
He would never have expected Lan Zhan to reach out and fix Jiang Cheng’s loose braids. He would never have expected Jiang Cheng to let him. The touch itself seemed instinctive, a thoughtless expression of endearment, that Wei Ying just happened to witness by virtue of being there when he normally isn’t. Lan Zhan’s aversion to touch is well-known, but people tend to forget Jiang Cheng rivals him in that regard.
But of course, Wei Ying isn’t an idiot. He isn’t Sect Leader Yao. He doesn’t jump into conclusions when he sees something out of the ordinary. It’s only been half a day to figure things out.
He walks around, that’s how. There’s some double-takes when he walks the halls and into the kitchens, but Jiang Cheng must’ve instructed the cooks, because they seem to realize who he is and they keep at their work. They don’t ask him questions, but they don’t stop their routine for him either.
Wei Ying’s reaching for some fruit when he overhears, “Ah, sweetheart, you must be new! Hanguang-jun doesn’t take any sort of spice.”
The cook is speaking to a boy, about Sizhui’s age, who’s carrying a tray of steaming bowls. If Wei Ying’s ever seen him before, it doesn’t matter, he’d have been a baby at most. “My apologies, da-jie. I just thought you forgot to add them.”
“Oh trust me, all of us have forgotten at least once. Took years before poor Hanguang-jun stopped getting his annual spice bomb,” the cook laughs.
Took years to what.
“Good thing it’s averted, then. Sect Leader Jiang would have been angry for an entire week.”
The boy visibly flinches. “I guess it’s not at the dining hall today?”
“Oh, yes. It’ll be at Sect Leader’s quarters, please,” the cook winks. “Always is, if Hanguang-jun’s visiting.”
Wei Ying thinks he drops his apple, finds out when it comes down on his big toe. He winces, thinks for a moment why his life’s come to this, then chases after the apple that’s now rolling around the kitchen floors. Just when he’s about to seize his prize, the cook picks it up.
He stands at attention, and prepares to apologize.
“It’s bruised now,” She says, and hands it out with a polite smile. She’s also far, far younger than the nice woman who used to be in charge. “I can get you a new one, gongzi.”
“Ah, no. Jiejie it’s okay!” Wei Ying says, waves his hands in front of him, and it feels surreal. “And I am hardly a gongzi, please.”
She isn’t one of the cooks Wei Ying knew from before, none of them are. He doesn’t think he’s ever known Lotus Pier beyond what it was before the siege. Apparently, the world hasn’t just changed around Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng, it’s changed everywhere else too, and Wei Ying struggles to keep up.
“You’ll be having lunch at Sect Leader’s private quarters,” the cook says. “Sect Leader Jiang asked me to tell you if I see you.”
Wei Ying almost asks, are you sure, but manages not to.
-
He wonders why they don’t sit together. And why Lan Zhan has to sit beside Wei Ying. And why they specifically requested so much spice be put into Wei Ying’s bowl when they shouldn’t have to. Wei Ying doesn’t ask anything because they would’ve already told him, if it’s really that important. Maybe Wei Ying’s just not privy to it and everyone else is by default.
“Go on, you can talk,” Jiang Cheng says.
Wei Ying shakes his head at him and gestures at Lan Zhan.
“Yeah, Gusu Lan rules, not Yunmeng’s,” Jiang Cheng says. “Come on, I can talk to no one else right now, A-Ling isn’t here.”
Clearly, Jiang Cheng’s been having enough lunches with Lans to think that. Wei Ying wonders if he just needs to get a hint and go with it. Is that how the juniors figured out how to act around them? Then again, they’re children; they’ve likely grown up used to eating at either of their senior’s private quarters. They must have taken it in stride, with no confusions on what they remember last and what they’re seeing at present. It might have actually been really easy. Wei Ying doubts the juniors have warring feelings about the whole thing, though.
Wei Ying swallows. “How is Shijie?”
“Sickeningly happy,” Jiang Cheng said. “The peacock came to negotiate trade routes once. Never again.”
That’s an entire statement Wei Ying’s never going to understand.
He shouldn’t be upset, because that’s unreasonable. He wasn’t there when it happened, he’s never been told about it, and he should’ve expected not to fully understand. Wei Ying’s been gone for nine years, and should know better than anyone that he has to make the adjustments himself.
It still feels terrible, though, he can’t help it. He’s lost short of a decade of Shijie’s life. Of Jin Ling’s. Of Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan’s.
“Is it...” Wei Ying says. “Is it a bad time to ask about the Wens?”
Lan Zhan’s bowl clatters, and they pitch into still silence. Wei Ying needs only for the tension to stretch a few moments, and gets his answer.
Well.
Jiang Cheng looses his grip on his tea cup, swears when it scorches him, then fumbles for something to clean himself with. Wei Ying is too stunned to even do anything, so he watches as Lan Zhan pulls out a white handkerchief, and silently wipes at the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand.
There’s too much in Wei Ying’s mind to conclude anything specific on Lan Zhan so gently taking someone’s hand, and Jiang Cheng letting someone take his.
“The ambush was a diversion,” Jiang Cheng says, eyes downcast. “They had a larger troop march for Yiling.”
“But the barrier...”
“They wanted to...get you, by sundown. Then, the troops in Yiling marched in and found that the barriers were gone,” Jiang Cheng says, eyes on his and Lan Zhan’s joined hands. Lan Zhan is no longer wiping at tea, but is making small, almost invisible circles with his thumb. The gesture is so intimate, Wei Ying feels like he’s walked in on them. “It was a coordinated attack, Wei Ying.”
“I—” shouldn’t have asked. Wei Ying had known, from the moment he’d taken the blade for Jin Zixuan, that it’s the end. No one had been in a position to do anything, Wei Ying barely had the capacity to keep them safe. He’d known that it wouldn’t last. “I think—Can I lie down for a bit? I think I’m a little tired, that’s all.”
Jiang Cheng’s gaze bears on him, like it has some physical weight to it. He isn’t glaring, but he looks like he wants Wei Ying to say something, and Wei Ying doesn’t know what to say. So Wei Ying stands, salutes them, and turns to leave for his room.
His arm is grabbed before he takes another step.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “Let go—”
“This room has a bed, you know,” Jiang Cheng says. “We can finish up here while you rest. I have a better bed than your new quarter’s anyway.”
Your new quarters?
Wei Ying doesn’t know why he doesn’t protest. Maybe he’s too upset and doesn’t want to make any more decisions that day. He’s made shitty decisions since the very beginning. Maybe it’s the look on both of their faces, that unusual seriousness that almost feels like a plea. Wei Ying is delusional enough to hope they meant ‘stay’.
He relents, and he stays.
-
Wei Ying wakes once more that day, and it’s to a familiar song on the guqin. He doesn’t remember where he’s heard it, but he remembers each note like a lullaby from old, charred memories. Maybe there’s a reason why he doesn’t remember things from his past, like the one about his parents, or the gap between falling into the Burial Mounds and his way out of it. He thinks it might hurt more, had he witnessed what had happened at Yiling. There’s some cushioning because he’s been told what happened, but he’s never actually seen it.
He doesn’t know what might have been, if he’d gotten out of Qiongqi just in time, and he’d seen an army of Lanling Jin cultivators step away from what’s left of the people he’s protecting. Or if he’d chosen not to take the sword for his Shijie’s husband. Or if he’d lost control, like Lan Zhan’s always said he would, and he’d slaughtered everyone including Jin Zixuan.
“Your new body is weaker,” Lan Zhan says from across the room. “It is not wise to strain.”
“With a body like yours, Hanguang-jun, I’m sure everyone else is weaker by comparison,” Wei Ying jokes, and not because he remembers how tightly Lan Zhan had gripped him. “You’ll crush poor old me into smithereens!”
It’s tragic Lan Zhan doesn’t bristle at every minor teasing anymore. When a long time ago, Wei Ying might have gotten a frown or a huff out of him, Lan Zhan doesn’t so much as react now. He keeps playing on his guqin, serene and unbothered, like the fine jade he is.
“Wei Ying shouldn’t be careless.”
“I care enough to get myself some extra sleep.”
“I meant words,” Lan Zhan says. “Shouldn’t be careless with them.”
Wei Ying’s about to get a headache. Lan Zhan never lies, but Lan Zhan isn’t always clear. This moment right here is an example. “I don’t know what that means,” he says. “Or am I just so tired I can’t grasp?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head, and that’s about what he’ll ever give Wei Ying, apparently. Wei Ying’s been gone long enough to forget how to read him, and that’s really, really disappointing.
“I must have given you guys a fright,” Wei Ying says. “Don’t worry, Lan Zhan! It’s just like seasickness, you know? Like how you get off the boat and still feel like you’re moving? That’s what I’m feeling right now.”
“Then rest,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying wonders why Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to care that someone else is in Jiang Cheng’s bed. Which is frustrating, because Wei Ying had never once obsessed over someone else caring about who’s in Jiang Cheng’s bed. There’s really no acquiescence to his syncopated feelings on the matter.
It’s only a little more than a day, he thinks. It’s hardly even a day since you’ve seen them again. He’s going to find his relief soon, and it will be alright. He can get to his problems one at a time.
“How does Shijie even live with Sect Leader Jin around, I wonder,” Wei Ying says. He’s lived through entire banquets with Jin Guangshan within proximity, and she has to live with the same fate every single day. It’s an admirable achievement, if not a little worrying.
“She’s happy to have A-Ling.”
“Yeah? And Jin Zixuan just follows his father around like a wimp?”
Lan Zhan stops playing, and sounds confused. “Wei Ying, Jin Zixuan is Sect Leader Jin.”
Wei Ying blinks. “What?”
“Jin Guangshan has been incarcerated,” Lan Zhan says. “Jiang Cheng made sure.”
Wei Ying should really focus on the fact that slimy old man Jin is finally incarcerated. Heaven knows Wei Ying and ten thousand other people had hoped so. But no, Wei Ying isn’t functioning like a normal human being, because he latches unto something else entirely.
Jiang Cheng, he’d said.
It should be exhilarating, hearing someone say Jiang Cheng’s name with the reverence and familiarity he’s always deserved. For a long time, Wei Ying had thought no one will be able to do so just right—to speak of him with soft fondness and fierce respect in the same breath, to acknowledge that Jiang Cheng never needs to get hurt but he isn’t so weak that he needs defending. Lan Zhan speaks his name a little differently than Wei Ying has always done, but it is no less. It is good.
“That’s good,” Wei Ying says, and he doesn’t know which line of thought he’s actually responding to. “Shidi is so good.”
“He is.”
That eases something inside Wei Ying, at least. For all his worries of leaving them behind, for all that it’s his last thought as the blade came down on him, some of the people he cared about have at least ended up alright.
“I didn’t know what I expected to find, Lan Zhan. But I guess you’re all doing okay.” Wei Ying says. He doesn’t add, without me, because he isn’t pathetic. That’s just too whiny. That’s asking them to care about him more than they’re able to.
“We only wish we could’ve done more,” Lan Zhan says, sincere.
“I believe you did,” Wei Ying says. “What would you have done, though? Defected from Gusu while power grabs were happening all around? I know you’re amazing, Lan Zhan, but even Hanguang-jun can’t hold off an entire army. The Hanguang-jun then, at least.”
Even Jin Guangshan is only a man, even he couldn’t have single-handedly done and gotten away with everything. There had to be a precursory, a volatile political climate, a wicked man who walks the wicked path and no longer belongs in a time of peace.
“What was Jiang Cheng to do?” Wei Ying muses. “Protect me and the Wens, while Lotus Pier had no more than forty new disciples? While Yunmeng Jiang didn’t have enough weapons and supplies? Was Shijie supposed to speak to Jin Guangshan, just after having a baby, with so many dangerous people around her?”
“Wei Ying.”
Ah, he shouldn’t be upset. There is no logical reason to be. He’s back now, and—despite the nine year delay—he’s able to process and try live with things the way they are.
“It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, because he thinks it will be. “Jiang Cheng’s done the impossible, as far as the situation allowed. He’s amazing.”
Wei Ying looks straight at him then, where Lan Zhan’s sitting on the floors with his guqin. His robes are the color of gorgeous magnolia flowers, ebony hair a contrast, and every bit of demure elegance as Wei Ying remembers. He looks like he fits in this room, like he’s always belonged in it—and maybe that’s true, from what Wei Ying observes, that is. Lan Zhan’s distress turns a little softer, of relief and fondness that’s meant for another person.
Lan Zhan adjusts his sleeves, and a flash of silver catches Wei Ying’s notice. It’s a clarity bell.
-
Jiang Cheng doesn’t really drag him out of the room, but Jiang Cheng is convincing when he wants to be. He mentions wanting to take a walk around, but needs to keep his mind busy, preferably with someone to talk to. Wei Ying doesn’t know why it’s him Jiang Cheng wants to talk to, he’s never been good at not hogging the entire conversation to himself. Also, why does Jiang Cheng want to walk with him, when Lan Zhan had mentioned he’s free the entire evening?
You’re his shixiong, idiot, and Wei Ying thinks that’s perfectly reasonable. It’s just him that doesn’t know how to act accordingly.
“Have you been gardening?” Wei Ying asks, because it’s the most inane conversation starter, and it just seems fitting.
The gardens at the southern part of the estate is new. Wei Ying doesn’t know how long it’s been there, perhaps sometime after the incident at Qiongqi Pass. That’s how he’s been piecing the timelines—before and after Qiongqi, but the ‘after’ is so broad a time span that Wei Ying struggles organizing sometimes. Most times the ‘before’ is so wildly different from the ‘after’, and he reels from it.
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at him, as if things are the same as before. As if Wei Ying has never disappeared on him for years. “I wish I had time for that, but no.”
“Not even these?” Wei Ying points at a flower, then, “Oh.”
There’s gentians here. Beautiful blues and whites bloom from the ground where it once had nothing. Just ahead of them, a single, fairly young magnolia tree sprouts from the ground. It’s like he’s in a different place entirely. They never had those, because Madame Yu hadn’t particularly cared for them. Yunmeng itself doesn’t see a lot of them. Where Wei Ying’s seen them before, had been in the Cloud Recesses.
“They’re pretty,” he says.
Wei Ying is finally witnessing his shidi sickeningly in love, yet his instant reaction is a confused, warring thing.
“Wangji gave them to an assigned disciple to plant here,” Jiang Cheng says. “They just multiplied since.”
Multiplied. It’s indeed been a long time, then. Enough time for Jin Ling to fondly include Lan Zhan in his stories.
“Oh,” Wei Ying says. “That’s nice.”
He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. If he’d found a way to preserve Shijie’s family and still lived, what’s there to miss? Wei Ying wouldn’t have known how to tell either of them how he feels. He should be glad the burden’s been taken off his back, that whatever delusions he’s had are finally squashed. If he had any chance at either of them before, no matter how little, Wei Ying would have blindly convinced himself it’s possible.
“A-Ying,” Jiang Cheng whispers.
Wei Ying doesn’t look at him, he’ll combust if he does.
Something’s burning inside Wei Ying, and it’s been an ardent thing for years. It still burns for Jiang Cheng, even now, when he’d always thought it would fizzle out with time. He doesn’t think about how it’s started burning for Lan Zhan too, he’d be feeling too much if he does, and he can’t cry right in the middle of the gardens right now.
Heavens, what’s he going to tell them?
“Wei Ying, you can tell me anything.”
Ah, here it is.
It’s that very rare side of Jiang Cheng even Wei Ying’s not always allowed to see. Jiang Cheng’s voice is whispered, but pitched just a little higher. He doesn’t need to be intimidating, so he softens like the beautiful lotus he is, and it is the loveliest thing. Wei Ying holds each rare sighting of it close to his heart, like a treasure, and a secret.
He is happy Lan Zhan’s able to see it. Lan Zhan’s so fiercely loyal and trustworthy, he deserves all the good things in the world. He needs to know he’s good enough to hold something so precious in his hands.
Fingers brush the back of his palm, and Wei Ying jolts out of his thoughts.
He thinks he should pull his hand, the one Jiang Cheng’s taken in his own, but Wei Ying only feels stiff. Wei Ying hates to admit that he doesn’t want to let go, but nobody has to know. When did Jiang Cheng even reach for him?
“You’re fidgeting,” Jiang Cheng says, frowning a little.
Wei Ying looks up only to draw his gaze away once more. He is about to explode, and it can’t happen here. “Hah, sorry.”
Jiang Cheng hums, and uses his thumb to rub the back of Wei Ying’s hand. It reminds him of the way Lan Zhan had done it back in Jiang Cheng’s quarters, as if it’s a language Wei Ying’s being allowed to learn, and the thing that burns inside him turns fever hot. It is scorching, and it is painful. He knows it’s not an invitation, not for the thing he desires anyway, but he really wants it to be.
“Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng says, and it’s an exhale more than a name.
Wei Ying makes the mistake of looking up again, and the his scorched heart sends a wave of numbness throughout his entire body. Jiang Cheng’s lashes are long, and he’s beautiful, and Wei Ying needs to get away before he loses the strength to keep himself standing.
“A-Cheng,” Wei Ying says, allows himself to. He thinks Jiang Cheng’s breathing hitches at some point, but Wei Ying is delusional, and doesn’t trust his own judgment one bit. “This body is weak. I’m already tired.”
The thumb on his hand stops, presses against his skin. Jiang Cheng keeps looking at him, like he’s trying to dig answers out from Wei Ying’s expression. Wei Ying fears that Jiang Cheng might find something, that he might be right, and he’s going to have to turn Wei Ying down the same way he always does other people: swift, frank, and with closure.
“There is a survivor,” Jiang Cheng says. “From the Burial Mounds.”
Wei Ying is a little dizzy, but he manages to catch the important detail. His eyes are wide, and he gasps.
“It’s A-Yuan, Wei Ying. Lan Sizhui,” Jiang Cheng says, and he’s smiling. “Wangji found him a day after the siege.”
“Is—is he?”
“They’re asleep right now,” Jiang Cheng says. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll take you straight to him. Okay?”
Wei Ying nods. “He lives in Gusu?”
“As a Lan and a disciple, yes. But he visits me very often.”
As a Lan, Wei Ying’s mind echoes.
His joy is derailed a little, when Jiang Cheng turns their hands to lace their fingers together, but it is not enough to ignore the most important news. Wen Yuan is alive, and Lan Zhan saved him. Lan Zhan gave him his name, white robes, and a beautiful sword. A-Yuan was a baby the last time Wei Ying remembers. He’d adored him. Jiang Cheng sounds like he adores him, too.
“He’s good enough with the guqin to play for you,” Jiang Cheng says. “You can ask him.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow.”
Wei Ying thinks of kissing Jiang Cheng, because he’s happy. He doesn’t have too many recollections of being happy without Jiang Cheng. But that’s his joy getting ahead of him and their reality. He doesn’t want to make a mess of things, believe it or not, so he doesn’t.
Instead, he squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand, because he’s been allowed at least that.
“You said you needed sleep,” Jiang Cheng says.
Their hands still joined, Wei Ying is pulled along.