Chapter Text
There was complete silence as Wei Wuxian strode from the banquet hall. Then the muttering started. A nervous laugh, a sigh of relief. The insults came next, the complaints about the lack of respect. Lan Wangji was disgusted by it all. Nothing they said about Wei Ying was fair. Respect? Where was the respect for the man who had been pivotal in the defeat of Wen Ruohan? Wei Ying jeopardized his very soul for them, and this was his thanks? No, Lan Wangji would not stay and listen to this nonsense. Maybe Wei Ying would still refuse his help, but at least he could be there if he was needed.
“Wangji.”
His brother called to him as he turned to leave. He looked back, waiting for the nod of acknowledgement that he knew would come before he too left.
***
He had taken too long. Wei Ying was nowhere in sight. No matter. He knew where Wei Ying was going. He could follow and meet him at Qiongqi Path.
“Hanguang-Jun, Hanguang-Jun.”
He looked back, annoyed. The small group of Lan Disciples hurried forward, bowing low. “Hanguang Jun, Zewu-Jun has sent us to accompany you.”
“No need.”
“Apologies, Hanguang-Jun. Zewu-Jun was most insistent that you not go alone.”
Lan Wangi sighed. His brother wasn't going to let it go, and he didn't have the time to argue. He would have to let these disciples come. They might even be useful if the situation was as dire as he suspected it might be, given Jin Zixun's sadistic nature. “Very well. You may come.”
With that, he mounted his sword and was gone, the disciples scrambling to keep up.
***
Lan Wangji found the camp easily, landing just outside the gates. He saw the old woman first struggling along carrying a flag pole much to big for her to manage. Lan Wangji frowned. He remembered this woman from Dafan Mountain; one of Wen Qing's people. What was she doing here? She was clearly no cultivator. This was supposed to be a place to contain the Wen soldiers captured after the war. There shouldn't be any civilians here. That was not the agreement. Concerned, he called to her. “Madam. Where are you taking that flag?”
She turned to him, confused. Shaking her head she turned away and continued to the gate. He could just make out her muttered words. “They said to bring the flag. Bring the flag. We want the flag. Bring the flag.”
Lan Wangji could see now that this was one of Wei Ying's Spirit Attraction Flags. Something so dangerous had no place in a work camp. He reached for it but as he did so the bundle on her back moved. Lan Wangji found himself observed by two small blank eyes. A child? Becoming angry, he took the flagpole and strode forward.
The guards were laughing and joking, kicking at something on the ground. “Where's that old witch with the flag? I want to see this Wen Dog squirm on the pole.” That brought even more laughter and Lan Wangji saw that what they were kicking was a man.
“Enough.” He didn't shout but the obvious command in his voice brought instant obedience. The guards jumped to attention.
Lan Wangji pointed at the man on the ground. “Explain.”
The guards looked at each other before one stepped forward with a bow. “Hanguang-Jun, we were only punishing the prisoner. He's just a Wen Dog. No one of importance.”
Lan Wangji knelt next to the man, feeding him energy. It was Wen Ning. His face was battered but he was alive. “You meant to impale him on the Spirit Attraction Flag.” It was not a question. “Where are the cultivators?”
“Hanguang-Jun?” The guards were confused looking worriedly at each other.
“The cultivators who were to be held here. Where are the prisoners?”
“But these are the prisoners. Hanguang-Jun. Wen Dogs.”
“These are civilians. They should have been let go. That was the agreement.”
“Ah, no no no, a misunderstanding, Hanguang-Jun. These are the prisoners we were told to guard. We're just following orders.”
“Where is the infirmary?” The guards said nothing, continuing to look at each other in worried confusion. “Where do you care for the sick and wounded?” The guards remained silent and it was clear that there was no caring for the sick. If a prisoner became ill, they were left to die.
Disgusted, Lan Wangji was done with them. Addressing his own disciples he asked, “are any of you healers?”
Only one stepped forward. “Hanguang-Jun, I am not, but I assisted during the war and have some small knowledge.”
Lan Wangji looked at him and nodded. “Good. Take over here. Do what you can for him.”
Standing, he surveyed the camp. He had meant to wait for Wei Ying, but the situation needed immediate attention. He assigned tasks, sending out his disciples to bring out all the prisoners and to look for food and shelter. Two were in charge of finding rope to secure the guards and keep them contained. The most pressing concern was to find a suitable building to house the most vulnerable. The prisoner accommodation was nothing more than a collection of decrepit shacks, all missing windows, doors and in many cases roofs too. That wouldn't do at all. Two disciples reported that they had found the guards dormitory, one of the only sound structures in the compound, the only other being the guard hut.
All the prisoners had been gathered in the main yard as thunder rumbled above. Lan Wangji counted only sixty three. Sixty three survivors of an entire clan. He ordered that the most vulnerable be taken to the dormitory, now their infirmary. The others would have to stay in the guard hut. They wouldn't be comfortable, but with a storm coming at least they would be dry. Lan Wangji himself lifted Wen Ning to carry him inside. Once he was settled, Lan Wangji went back outside, looking to the skies, searching for any sign of Wei Ying. Why wasn't he here yet? Lan Wangji had expected him to be here. He had left first, after all. What could have happened to delay him? He was worried, but there was too much that still needed to be done for him to allow his anxiety free reign.
There was a shed a little way outside the camp. Could this be a storeroom? Lan Wangji made his way over and pulled open the door. At first, he was unsure of what he was looking at. Clothes. A bridal veil, books, a box filled with rings. Nothing of great value. Small family treasures kept safe when all else had been lost. Belongings taken from captured Wens. Sickened, Lan Wangji turned to leave. His eye fell on a small object tucked away behind a stack of shoes. He picked it up. A small knitted rabbit. He had had one like it when he was small. Xiao Tuzi. Many a cold night when he was missing his mother, Xiao Tuzi had comforted him. He felt like crying. He had fought in a war. He had seen his peers, people he had grown up with slaughtered. He had killed men with his own hands. This should not be so hard, and yet. He tucked the small doll into his robe, keeping it safe.
Once outside, he saw two of his disciples on a hill a short distance away. One stood while the other knelt at his feet. Lan Wangji went towards them. The smell hit him long before he reached them, so he thought he was prepared. He wasn't. Nothing could have prepared him for what lay in the valley below. Bodies. Hundreds of them, strewn everywhere without a care. So many of them. More than he could handle alone.
He set off his flare, his own personal flare. Any Lan who saw this would come immediately. The kneeling disciple was young, no more than sixteen. He was crying. Rocking in pain over the tiny body he cradled in his arms. Lan Wangji put a hand on his shoulder. The boy startled, gently putting down the dead child and rising to bow. “Hanguang Jun, I apologise, I was...”
“You did nothing wrong. May I know your name?”
“This one is Zhou Zimo, Hanguang-Jun.”
“Zhou Zimo, I am sending you to Lanling. You must find Zewu-Jun. Tell my brother what you have seen here. Tell him that we – no, tell him that I request his urgent assistance.”
“I will. I swear I won't fail you, Hanguang-Jun.”
Mounting his sword, Zhou Zimo was gone. The other disciple nodded. “It's good you sent him away, Hanguang-Jun. He doesn't belong here.”
Lan Wangji looked over the field of the dead. “No-one belongs here. Come.”
“I should stay. We need to lay the dead to rest.”
“We will. But first, we need to see to the living.”
The two headed back as the rain began to fall. At least all the Wens were under cover now. As they got back to the main compound two disciples carrying blankets approached. “Hanguang-Jun, we found the storerooms.”
“Good. Come with me.”
“Hanguang-Jun, what about the guards?”
Lan Wangji looked to where the guards sat in the mud. Tied together and miserable. “What about them?”
He looked for Wen Ning first, seeing him still unconscious. The old woman he had seen earlier sat on the next bed, the child beside her. Taking two of the blankets he ordered that the rest be distributed.
He gave the first of his two blankets to the healer for Wen Ning, the other was for the old woman. The child didn't even register his presence. No child should be so spiritless. Pausing, he reached into his robes, pulling out the small knitted rabbit. He handed it to the boy, who at first showed no reaction before snatching it away and holding it close to his cheek. He looked up at Lan Wangji, huge eyes finally showing some life. Satisfied, Lan Wangji held his gaze. There was nothing more he could do now. Nothing but wait and hope that help came soon.