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Wei Wuxian
“What’s that?” Jiang Cheng asks, and Wei Wuxian pauses with his shirt clutched close to his chest.
“What’s what?” He says cautiously. Things are - better, now, between him and Jiang Cheng, but he’s only been at the Lotus Pier for a few weeks and he doesn’t want to be sent away. Jiang Fengmian had said he was going to live here from now on, but if he keeps fighting with Jiang Cheng, maybe Jiang Fengmian will change his mind -
“That,” Jiang Cheng says; he sounds testy but not angry, and Wei Wuxian is rapidly learning to tell the difference. He looks down at himself, where Jiang Cheng is pointing.
“Oh, uh.” Wei Wuxian tries to remember what his mother had called it. “That’s my - soulmark?”
“Oh, I’ve got one of those,” Jiang Cheng says, and Wei Wuxian relaxes. Jiang Cheng pulls down the sleeve of his own shirt, baring his shoulder. “See? Mom says it’s for our sect,” he says proudly, and Wei Wuxian steps over so he can see.
It does look like the Yunmeng Jiang crest, softly curved lines forming the vague outline of a lotus flower. Wei Wuxian has never seen another person’s soulmark before, besides his parents’, and he leans in, fascinated. The lines are crisp and black as the finest calligraphy, and it looks almost wet, as if it would smudge under his fingers.
Wei Wuxian pokes it.
“Hey,” Jiang Cheng snaps, jerking away. “You’re not supposed to touch it!”
“Why not? Does it hurt?” His own has never hurt, not when he touched it, and not in the memories of his parents helping him dress or picking him up, but maybe that’s different?
“No, stupid,” Jiang Cheng says, scowling, but Wei Wuxian can tell that he doesn’t really mean anything by it. “It’s for the other person, if there is one. For, you know.” His face starts to turn pink. “When you’re. You know.”
“Oh. Oh.” Wei Wuxian considers this. “My mom didn’t say anything about that.”
“Yeah, well.” Jiang Cheng’s face is still pink. “You were a baby. Still are.”
“I’m older than you,” Wei Wuxian retorts, pushing at Jiang Cheng’s shoulder - although he’s careful to avoid the soulmark.
Jiang Cheng pushes back. “By a week. That doesn’t count.”
“Does too.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.” Wei Wuxian drops his shirt and tackles Jiang Cheng back onto his bed, and the resultant wrestling match lasts until Jiang Yanli comes to knock on the door to their room to ask why it’s taking them so long to get dressed.
Wei Wuxian thinks about it later, though, when his soulmark is safely hidden under his clothing and he’s out on the training field practicing with Jiang Cheng and the other disciples. The mark on his chest doesn’t look like the crest of any sect that he’s ever seen, circular and spiky and black as a starless sky. But then, Wei Wuxian reasons, he’s not the son of a sect leader. His must have some other meaning.
He brushes his hand surreptitiously over his heart, wondering if the person on the other side can feel it. Assuming there is one, of course; even he knows that there isn’t always a match for every mark, or not one that can be found, anyway.
His parents had been lucky enough to find each other. Wei Wuxian hopes he’ll be lucky like that, too.
Six years later
Sometimes, Wei Wuxian thinks, he just has the worst goddamned luck.
It’s not enough that he seems to get caught by Lan Wangji every time he sets foot outside of the Cloud Recesses, not enough that Lan Wangji seems determined to give him the severest punishments imaginable. This time he had gotten Lan Wangji in trouble too, and yes, he had dared the second Young Master of Lan to punish himself along with Wei Wuxian but he hadn’t thought Lan Wangji would go through with it.
When Lan Xichen had suggested the cold spring as a way to soothe the welts from the discipline ruler, Wei Wuxian had assumed that Lan Wangji, having grown up here, would have already made use of them. It’s just his luck that Lan Wangji has apparently waited until the evening to tend to his own hurts as well…
On the other hand, Wei Wuxian reasons, perhaps this is a chance for them to become better friends. Or friends at all. They have something in common now, even if it’s only the marks of the discipline ruler. He softens his footsteps as he approaches; Lan Wangji folds his robes neatly and slips into the water, apparently unaware of Wei Wuxian’s presence, and Wei Wuxian grins.
Then Lan Wangji pulls his hair over his shoulder, exposing the lean muscles of his back, and Wei Wuxian’s footsteps stop altogether.
The mark is high on Lan Wangji’s back, just under his left shoulder blade. It almost shimmers in the moonlight, spiky and circular and unlike any of the motifs of Gusu Lan.
We Wuxian knows this shape very well, though, and his hand comes up of its own volition to settle over his heart.
Lan Wangji turns.
Wei Wuxian drops his hand like it’s been burned as Lan Wangji’s eyes widen. “Lan Zhan!” The grin stretches across his face as he bounds up the last few meters to the cold spring. Lan Wangji’s gaze narrows, and he backs away through the water until he’s standing on the far side of the pool. Wei Wuxian would be hurt by that, he really would, except he’s trying to think through the pounding of his heart in his chest and the blood thundering through his head.
“How did you get here?” Lan Wangji blurts out, and if he didn’t know better Wei Wuxian would think his voice sounded strange, but it’s probably the echo off the high rock walls.
“Zewu-Jun told me about this place,” Wei Wuxian says, hands going to his sash, undoing the outer layer of his robes.
Lan Wangji backs up until he hits the far wall of the pool. “What are you doing?”
The echoes here really are strange. Wei Wuxian kicks his boots off. “What does it look like? Your brother told me the waters up here are good for healing, so here I am - but it’s not nice of you to keep this place to yourself, Lan Zhan.” He drops his outer robes carelessly to the ground, but keeps the innermost layer on and jumps into the pool. “Oh sh- that’s cold, Lan Zhan, it’s cold!”
Lan Wangji closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again in a glare as Wei Wuxian jumps around, trying to warm up. “Stop that!”
“But it’s cold,” Wei Wuxian whines, rubbing his arms in an attempt to get some life back into them. The movement splashes water along Lan Wangji’s face and he scowls, reaching out as if to push Wei Wuxian away -
Wei Wuxian dodges the hand that was about to land on his chest and backs away to the other side of the pool. “All right, all right, I’m getting used to it. Relax, Lan Zhan, all this stress can’t be good for you.”
Lan Wangji glares but he settles onto his side of the pool, and Wei Wuxian blows out a breath, relaxing.
He can’t let Lan Wangji know. He had to get in the pool - to have turned around and left when he had already been spotted would have been too suspicious, and the last thing he wants to do is raise Lan Wangji’s suspicions. Best that he splash around and be loud and ridiculous; with any luck, Lan Wangji will chase him out of his own volition.
Lan Wangji eyes him suspiciously. “Why are you wearing clothes in the water?”
Wei Wuxian thinks fast. “Oh, this is just how we do it in Yunmeng,” he says, inventing madly. “There’s so much water there, it’d be a hassle getting dressed and undressed every time you wanted to take a swim. Easier just to remove the outer layers. Have you ever been?”
Lan Wangji stares at him. He slowly shakes his head, and Wei Wuxian grins as he swallows his heart back down. “Well, you should come sometime! I’ll show you all the good swimming places, the best food stalls, the prettiest girls -”
Lan Wangji makes a short little grunt but Wei Wuxian picks up without hardly missing a beat. “And we could spend quality time together, really become good friends. Doesn’t that sound great, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Zhan looks at him with this strange, complicated look on his face. Wei Wuxian would almost think that he had indigestion, but the food in Gusu is too bland to give a fly heartburn, let alone a person.
“...No,” Lan Wangji says eventually, and Wei Wuxian grins even as his stomach flips over. This is - this is good, this means his plan is working. Best to keep Lan Wangji at arm’s length, without ever letting him know that’s what Wei Wuxian is doing.
“Aw, Lan Zhan, you’re hurting my feelings.” Wei Wuxian pouts exaggeratedly, falling into a more natural grin when Lan Wagji just sits there stone faced. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t like me.”
The words echo between them, and Wei Wuxian wishes he could take them back. He doesn’t mean to push like this, but he’s off-balance, the mark on Lan Wangji’s back still burning behind his eyes, and as much as he tries to push it down he can’t stop the singing in his blood that says he’s right there, close enough to touch, just reach out, he’s your s-
“Ah, stop, you don’t have to say it,” Wei Wuxian says to drown the voice out. His hands curl into themselves. “You should really treat me more nicely, though, or I might take your neatly folded clothes with me when I leave -”
Lan Wangji’s face darkens in irritation. “Get lost,” he snarls, and that’s Wei Wuxian’s cue.
“All right, all right, I’m going - and I’m leaving these here, don’t worry!” Wei Wuxian says when it looks like Lan Wangji might lunge for him. He’s not sure what will happen if Lan Wangji touches his - their? - soulmark, but he’s pretty sure it won’t be anything good.
Lan Wangji is - too good, too perfect to be for someone like him. Wei Wuxian eyes the tension along Lan Wangji’s jaw, the tightness around his eyes. A soulmark isn’t going to change the way Lan Wangji feels about him; if anything, Lan Wangji would just hate him even more, for disrupting his perfectly ordered life.
He’s not going to force this on Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian will just - pretend he never saw anything. He’ll go on his way and forget this ever happened, and Lan Wangji can marry some pretty Lan girl and he’ll never, ever have to know.
Wei Wuxian heaves himself out of the pool, suddenly unable to be in the same space with Lan Wangji. He gathers up his clothing and boots and sets off down the path, telling himself that a brisk walk is not the same as a run, as a retreat.
If he thinks he feels Lan Wangji’s eyes on his back until he rounds the curve in the path, he doesn’t look back to see.
And that...seems to be that. Lan Wangji glares at him from a distance but he doesn’t attempt to close it and that’s...fine. That’s fine. That’s great, that’s just what Wei Wuxian had wanted. He tells himself that every night when he goes to sleep and sees the mark on Lan Wangji’s shoulder burning behind his eyelids.
Then Jin Zixuan disrespects his shijie, and Wei Wuxian has to punch him in the face, there’s no other option, and then he’s expelled from the Cloud Recesses and that’s...also fine. For the best, probably. He’s sure he’ll see Lan Wangji again at some point, but with some distance, they’ll be able to meet as acquaintances, nothing more.
That’s the plan, at least.
Lan Wangji
If Wei Wuxian has anything like a plan in mind, Lan Wangji will gladly join in; but it’s clear that Wei Wuxian is improvising madly as the situation in this cave starts to fall apart.
Typical, and typically infuriating, but the growing fear in Lan Wangji’s chest leaves room for little else.
The giant tortoise rears out of the water, scattering sect disciples and Wens alike as steam shoots from the nostrils of that snake-like head. Lan Wangji watches with his heart in his throat as Wei Wuxian twists out of Wen Zhuliu’s grasp, leaping to the relatively safety of another rock formation but losing his grip on Wen Chao in the process. Regrettably, Wen Chao does not fall into the monster’s jaws, and Lan Wangji backs away with the other disciples as Wen Zhuliu returns to the shore with Wen Chao in tow. The Wen disciples set up a firing line but it’s effective only in enraging the beast further; it stomps in the already agitated water, sending drenching waves toward the shore, and Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji skip backwards out of range.
A dark shape lands on the shore a little way down from them, and Lan Wangji turns in time to see Wei Wuxian boot one of the Wen archers in the side and seize his bow and quiver. He sets three arrows at once - of course he does, Lan Wangji thinks despairingly - but before he can release them a high-pitched scream sounds behind him.
Wei Wuxian turns and releases the arrows almost in the same motion; Lan Wangji barely has time to track their targets before Wei Wuxian casts the bow aside and breaks into a run. He throws himself in front of the girl from earlier, and just as Lan Wangji remembers that she’s called MianMian a searing pain rips through his shoulder and his legs buckle underneath him.
His knees hit stone as the smell of burning flesh fills the cave; he dimly hears Wang Lingjao screech and Jiang Wanyin roar but what echoes in his head is Wei Wuxian screaming through his teeth. His head is spinning and he blinks furiously, gulping in air and trying to clear his vision; the blurriness resolves into a heated brand clanging off the stone floor, Wei Wuxian’s hand hovering above a charred circle over his heart.
“Lan Wangji.” Jin Zixuan’s fingers dig into his shoulder, and that pain helps draw him back to himself, makes him feel a little more real in this moment when everything is falling apart. “Lan Wangji, can you stand?”
Of course he can. Probably. Lan Wangji pushes himself unsteadily to his feet, taking Jin Zixuan’s offered hand with a nod.
“The Wen-dogs are retreating,” Jin Zixuan says grimly, pulling him up. “We have to get out of here, before -”
There’s a rumbling and a cloud of dust at the far end of the cave, where they came in, and Jin Zixuan cuts off short.
“They’ve...blocked the entrance?” A disciple says in disbelief. Jin Zixuan begins to curse; he’s impressively creative, but it doesn’t change the situation in front of them.
The way they came is indeed impassible. Wen Chao no doubt intends them to rot down here, if the tortoise doesn’t eat them first. The other disciples are in varying stages of panic; Lan Wangji still feels somewhere not quite in his body, like the ache in his shoulder is the only thing that’s real.
“It’s not like my leg is broken,” he hears Wei Wuxian say, and Lan Wangji turns to see MianMian and Jiang Wanyin hovering around Wei Wuxian, MianMian in tears and Jiang Wanyin’s face tight with anger. Wei Wuxian jokes with both of them, laughing until he winces, hand coming back up to his chest, and Lan Wangji looks away.
“Young Master Lan, where are you going?” Jiang Wanyin asks as Lan Wangji turns to leave. He hadn’t realized Jiang Wanyin had been paying him any attention. “The beast is still waiting at the pool.”
“We must return to the pool,” Lan Wangji replies, locking eyes with Jiang Wanyin so he won’t look at Wei Wuxian. “There is a way to leave.”
“What is it?” Lan Wangji’s eyes slide helplessly back over to Wei Wuxian’s when he asks; Wei Wuxian’s face is still creased with a pain Lan Wangji suspects is much stronger than the echo in his own shoulder, but his eyes are bright and sharp.
“There are leaves in the pool,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen in immediate understanding. Lan Wangji forces himself to look away, to turn and lead the way back toward the monster’s pool because if he doesn’t, if he stays here for one more second -
There is a time and a place for the kinds of words Lan Wangji can feel crawling up his throat; trapped in an underground cave with disciples from a dozen sects and a rampaging monster is neither. Lan Wangji swallows hard and heads back down the path.
The seconds as Jiang Wanyin searches the bottom of the pool stretch long and fraught, but Lan Wangji knows there has to be an entrance down there. He just hopes it’s larger than a leaf. When Jiang Wanyin resurfaces with news of a hole large enough for half a dozen, Lan Wangji allows himself to close his eyes for a moment in relief.
Jiang Wanyin gets the other disciples out through the hole as Wei Wuxian distracts the beast with his impromptu fire talisman, and Lan Wangji is about to follow the last stragglers when Su Minshan stops and scoops up a discarded bow and arrow. Lan Wangji moves to knock it out of his hands but he’s still too slow, too fuzzy. Su Minshan draws and fires; Lan Wangji can tell even as the arrow releases that it won’t hit the tortoise, and his breath seizes up as he realizes where it will land.
Wei Wuxian grunts as the arrow sinks into his arm, but he only slams his palm against the ground again, flames billowing up around him. The tortoise rears back again, incensed by the noise and the movement but wary of the heat and the light.
“Get over here!” Jiang Wanyin shouts as he herds the last of the disciples into the water.
“I will!” Wei Wuxian says through gritted teeth, flames dying around him as he reaches up toward his arm.
Don’t, Lan Wangji wants to scream, but the word is stuck in his throat as Wei Wuxian yanks the arrow out. The cave is too fetid and he’s too far away to actually be able to smell the blood that gushes from the wound, but as the tortoise’s head snakes forward Lan Wangji finds that he’s already moving.
Wei Wuxian’s face is almost comical with surprise as Lan Wangji shoves him to the side, and relief blooms in Lan Wangji’s chest even as the beast’s jaws close around his leg.
The next several moments happen very quickly.
The pain is immediate and overwhelming. He grits his teeth as he’s dragged backward, fangs tearing through the flesh of his leg - he will not disgrace Gusu Lan, even in death, especially in death -
The teeth move again and he grunts; but the beast’s jaws are slowly levering open again, and as he starts to fall from the monster’s jaws he sees Wei Wuxian, braced between two sets of teeth, arms straining and face red with superhuman effort.
Of course it’s you, Lan Wangji thinks as he falls. It’s always you.
The water envelops him with a splash, but then strong hands are pulling him out and up into the air and Lan Wangji comes back to himself draped over Wei Wuxian’s back with the infuriated shrieks of the beast echoing behind them.
“You?” He mumbles. He’s not sure what he means by it - why is it you or what about you or even it could never have been anyone but you - but Wei Wuxian answers anyway.
“Me!” He laughs breathlessly as he runs up the path, away from the pool. “You’re pleasantly surprised?”
That’s just - Lan Wangji hears his voice shake even as he tells himself he won’t respond. “How could this be pleasant? Let me down!”
“Nope!” Wei Wuxian appears to be constitutionally incapable of shutting his mouth, even as he’s running for their lives. “I can’t do that just because you say so, can I?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t know what he could possibly say to that, so he conserves his energy to concentrate on not passing out.
The beast’s shrieks have faded to echoes by the time Wei Wuxian slows. The cave he’s chosen is cold and damp, like everything else down here; Lan Wangji tries not to regret the loss of warmth as Wei Wuxian’s grip on him loosens and he slides off Wei Wuxian’s back. He has all of one second before he realizes his leg will not hold him at all, and he collapses back against the rough, damp wall, sliding down to the cave floor as Wei Wuxian turns and exclaims in dismay.
Lan Wangji leans back against the cave wall and shuts his eyes, focusing on drawing breath in and out. Breathing through the pain is difficult, but it is a necessary first step and almost a welcome distraction from the throbbing in his calf and Wei Wuxian’s...everything.
What are not welcome are the warm fingers scrabbling at his forehead ribbon. Lan Wangji’s eyes fly open as Wei Wuxian gets it undone, crouching next to him with a sturdy branch he’s scavenged from...somewhere, and a look of concentration on his face.
“You!” That appears to be all Lan Wangji is capable of saying to Wei Wuxian in this cave; nevertheless it makes Wei Wuxian grin.
“Me!” He agrees. “Who else would it be, down here. And I know how attached you are to this,” he continues casually, as if he hasn’t removed the single most important item Lan Wangji is wearing. “But it can’t be more important than your leg, right?” He finishes tying off a knot and Lan Wangji sees that he’s created an impromptu brace for Lan Wangji’s leg with the stick and the ribbon.
It is, Lan Wangji almost snaps, but - then Wei Wuxian would just ask why, and Lan Wangji would have to either ignore the resultant pestering or tell him that the Lan forehead ribbon can only be removed by a spouse or a -
Soulmate. Lan Wangji lets himself think the word for the first time since the searing pain had ripped through his shoulder. Wei Wuxian: maddening, irrepressible, incredible Wei Wuxian is Lan Wangji’s soulmate and he -
He had known. Almost certainly Wei Wuxian had already known. Lan Wangji can recall vividly that night in the bathing pool, where sensation had ghosted through the mark on his shoulder and he had turned to see Wei Wuxian staring at him wide-eyed. At the time, he had thought it was just Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian; bizarre behavior from him was certainly nothing out of the norm, but that night he had been even more erratic than usual, leaving almost as soon as he had come.
He had known. He had seen the soulmark on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and he had known and he had left.
Something twists in Lan Wangji’s chest and he leans over, away from Wei Wuxian. He coughs as something surges up his throat, spitting out a mouthful of dark, heavy blood.
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian says with relief. “Good. Best to get that out.”
Lan Wangji wipes his mouth and looks back at him, but Wei Wuxian is already digging MianMian’s perfume sachet out of his clothes.
“MianMian said there were medicinal herbs in here,” he says, and Lan Wangji tries to breathe through the irritation that curls through his chest every time Wei Wuxian says MianMian. “Let’s see if we can’t find something for your leg.”
Lan Wangji bends his head to the task as Wei Wuxian unties the satchet. He will begrudgingly admit that there are some useful herbs in here. Wei Wuxian picks out a few and applies them to Lan Wangji’s leg as Lan Wangji sorts through the rest. The wound on his leg stings and then tingles as numbness spreads from beneath Wei Wuxian’s hands; Lan Wangji lets out a careful breath as relief seeps into his muscles. Wei Wuxian leans forward to inspect his handiwork, and as he does his robes gape open, revealing the charred circle of flesh beneath.
Lan Wangji’s hand curls, and he forces it to relax. He picks out a few of the herbs from the satchet: one to prevent infection, one to ease pain. He leans forward before he can think about it too much and presses them to the wound on Wei Wuxian’s chest.
Wei Wuxian freezes underneath his touch, drawing in a sharp breath, but Lan Wangji is focused on the ghostly sensation he can feel along his shoulder blade. He presses a little harder and the feeling intensifies. It’s overwhelming, or it could be; if Lan Wangji lets it, if he gives in -
Wei Wuxian’s hand closes suddenly around Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Lan Zhan,” he breathes, and for a fraction of a second Lan Wangji thinks that he leans into it, pressing Lan Wangji’s hand into his chest, into their soulmark -
Then he lifts Lan Wangji’s hand away, and Lan Wangji lets him.
“Don’t worry about me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a chuckle that sounds forced. “This is nothing.”
And that - that hurts, far more than the wound in his leg, far more than Lan Wangji wants it to. He leans back against the cave wall and tries to breathe normally as Wei Wuxian prattles on, starting a fire and arranging them as comfortably as he can manage on the cold stone floor.
“MianMian’s herbs really came in handy, I’ll have to thank her when we get back,” he says as he settles next to Lan Wangji. The warm line of his body is pressed against Lan Wangji’s and Lan Wangji tells himself that it means nothing, that Wei Wuxian is like this with everyone, regardless of what they might - what they might be to each other.
“Harass her more, you mean,” he says, and that’s more mean-spirited than is proper but Lan Wangji is tired of hearing the name MianMian from Wei Wuxian’s mouth.
“It’s not harassment if it’s me,” Wei Wuxian says confidently, and that is the most absurd thing Lan Wangji has ever had the misfortune to hear; although he has no doubt Wei Wuxian will be able to top it in the next few minutes, and indeed he does: “Although I don’t see why my flirting should bother you. Unless....”
He turns to look at Lan Wangji from centimeters away, and even covered with sweat and grime he has never looked more beautiful. Lan Wangji can’t help that he thinks that, that he has always thought that; even the first time they had met, caught in flagrant disregard for the rules of Gusu Lan, Wei Wuxian had smiled at him and something in Lan Wangji’s chest had thought, beautiful. He hadn’t known then, and Lan Wangji thinks that even if he had never known he still would have ended up here, frozen in place as Wei Wuxian’s lips part. Something moves through Wei Wuxian’s eyes and Lan Wangji holds his breath. Surely he’ll have to say something, surely one of them will have to -
Wei Wuxian’s eyes tighten around the corners, and a grin so false Lan Wangji wants to smack it spreads across his face.
“Unless,” Wei Wuxian exclaims, “you like MianMian!”
Lan Wangji’s blood pounds in his temples and his vision goes temporarily red.
He forces himself to look away, because if he keeps looking at Wei Wuxian he’s going to lose what little grip he has left on his self-control. He wants more than anything to lean forward, to close that last gap between them and press his mouth harsh and biting against Wei Wuxian’s, to show him what he thinks about his teasing, about MianMian. He wants to sink his teeth into Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip, to pull him close until there’s no more space between them, no more omissions, no more deliberate misinterpretations.
Lan Wangji closes his eyes. “Do. Not. Be. Ridiculous.”
If Wei Wuxian hasn’t said anything about - about being soulmates, he must have his reasons. Lan Wangji will not force this on him.
And really, Lan Wangji thinks as the throbbing in his head recedes, this changes nothing. His feelings - conflicted and confusing as they are - are not altered. The soulmark is an additional complication, yes, but it is also an additional thread that ties them together. In this vein Lan Wangji cannot regret it.
He wonders if Wei Wuxian does.
Help will come, Wei Wuxian assures him, but days pass and it doesn’t. They will have to formulate their own plan to get out of here. Springing the trap and slaying the beast in its pool is the most physically difficult thing Lan Wangji has ever done, although it pales next to the effort of sitting next to Wei Wuxian in the cave day after day and not reaching out. The battle against the Xuanwu of Slaughter, at the very least, is something he can do.
There is a moment, however, when Wei Wuxian disappears down the beast’s gullet and Lan Wangji’s heart stops. Wei Wuxian can’t be dead. He would know, somehow, wouldn’t he? Lan Wangji would know, or else what is the mark on his shoulder even for?
Wei Wuxian isn’t dead, of course; he emerges drenched in bile and blood and the filth of decomposed corpses, clinging to an iron sword and muttering to himself but alive. When the beast is dead Lan Wangji drags Wei Wuxian back to their cave and cleans him up as best he can. His fingers hover over the scabbed-over wound on the soulmark, but he forces himself to move on, to tend to Wei Wuxian’s more immediate hurts.
When Wei Wuxian is lucid enough - more or less - to ask for a song, Lan Wangji almost refuses him out of habit; but they’ve almost died several times over down here, and there’s no guarantee that they won’t still. Help is on the way, perhaps; or perhaps Jiang Cheng and the others were intercepted and this is all that is left, this damp, dirty cave and the dying firelight and his soulmate sitting across from him.
If that’s the case, there is only one song that will do.
Wei Wuxian smiles - one of his real ones, not the cocky, everyday one or the overly-familiar, flirty grin, but something genuine - as Lan Wangji starts to hum, and the sight of it almost stops Lan Wangji’s breath in his lungs. He swallows and continues, the melody filling the cave and settling his soul; he’d composed it without the intent to ever share it but it seems only right, in this moment.
Wei Wuxian sighs and shifts, body going lax as either sleep or the fever takes him. Lan Wangji hopes it’s sleep. He hopes Wei Wuxian dreams well.
Wei Wuxian
Wei Wuxian is jerked screaming out of a dream he doesn’t remember, sitting bolt upright with heart pounding and pain lancing through his chest. He presses a hand over his heart, pressing in over the old scar and slowly the pain recedes, leaving only a dull ache in his chest. It hurts, but everything hurts these days; using the Stygian Tiger Seal always comes with a cost, and -
Wei Wuxian presses a hand over his mouth as he remembers why he’d used it.
He doesn’t - he doesn’t think he’d left a single cultivator standing, outside of the small circle he’d made around himself, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli’s lifeless body. He doesn’t - he doesn’t remember much of it at all, after he’d fit the two halves of the Seal together.
There’s always a cost, to everything. Wei Wuxian will pay it, is more than happy to pay it, if he could make fate stop collecting his debts from the people he loves.
Speaking of - the Wens have been left without his protection for too long. Wei Wuxian pushes himself unsteadily to his feet, and realizes he doesn’t know where he is. He had thought he was back ho- in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but now that he’s looking around this cave is smaller and un-lived in, although the stone is similar to that found in Yiling. He wanders to the mouth, blinking in the cloudy light, and the scrubby bushes, the stunted trees, all look like those that grow near the Burial Mounds.
He must have walked. He can’t use his sword - didn’t even have it on him - so he must have walked back here from the ruins of the Nightless City. He doesn’t know how he would have gotten here otherwise.
He rubs his chest again, and then stops when he realizes what he’s doing. It’s - for the best that Lan Wangji isn’t here to see this. He’s probably already back at the Cloud Recesses, living his perfect Lan life and washing off the dirt and the blood Wei Wuxian keeps getting on him. Wei Wuxian can’t seem to ever get it right, with Lan Wangji; he’s tried to keep a friendly, respectful distance, but Lan Wangji is just always there, showing up where Wei Wuxian least expects to see him. Wei Wuxian can’t help but lean into that before he remembers why he shouldn’t. When Lan Wangji had demanded that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him, it had taken everything in what was left of Wei Wuxian’s heart to say no when his entire soul was screaming yes; to turn down everything he wanted even if it was nothing like the way he wanted it hurt, but Wei Wuxian has worked through pain before. He’ll do it again.
At least he won’t have to worry about turning Lan Wangji down again. After what Wei Wuxian did at the Nightless City, he can’t imagine there’s a single person outside of the Burial Mounds that wouldn’t condemn him, even his -
His chest still aches, and Wei Wuxian wonders if he’s aggravated the old scar over his soulmark, or if this is just the way his body is going to be now. Best to get back to the Burial Mounds. He’s probably fine, or as fine as he’s going to get. He steps outside the cave, looking around to orient himself, and - huh.
There’s been a fight here; a big one, from the looks of it, gashes in the spindly little trees from sword flares, the ground disturbed by multiple sets of footprints. He can’t imagine how he slept through any of that, so perhaps it had been here when he came.
No time to figure it out. They’ll be coming for him, he knows that now; the only question is how quickly he can get back to the Burial Mounds and how fast he can send the Wens away.
Not fast enough, as it turns out; he’s barely made it back to their little settlement before perimeter warnings have been tripped, barely enough time to scoop up little A-Yuan and hide him away with a warning to cover his ears and not come out, no matter how long it takes or what he might hear. Then it’s time to turn and meet the invaders head-on, with Chenqing and an army of the dead and try to buy the Wens enough time to get away.
It won’t be enough. Wei Wuxian can see that. He can hold them off a little while but not forever, these faces - some of which he knows, some of which he doesn’t - contorted in anger and rage and unreasoning fear.
There is one face he doesn’t see, and he doesn’t know if Lan Wangji is lost in the crowd or just didn’t bother to come. Wei Wuxian hopes it’s the second; he hopes Lan Wangji is far away from all of this.
Wei Wuxian puts Chenqing away and lifts the Stygian Tiger Seal, fitting the two halves together and raising them above his head.
He can tell right away that something’s not right. The Seal twists in his hands, almost vibrating with a life of its own. It’s hot underneath his hands, and he’s losing control of it, he’s losing -
There is always a cost. If it’s finally his turn to bear it, that’s an acceptable fate.
Wei Wuxian seizes the Stygian Tiger Seal and twists it in his hands, amplifying the accelerating swirl of unstable energy, and lets go.
Lan Wangji
Lan Wangji releases the strings of the guqin and sits back, frowning. The last notes of Inquiry reverberate around him, fading into the open, mist-laden air.
No response. Not to Inquiry, not to the elaborate summoning ritual the head cultivators had undertaken, not to anyone. Not to him. The Yiling Patriarch’s soul is not just dead but destroyed, the rumors are starting to say. Lan Wangji can hear them even here, confined to his rooms in the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji lifts his hands again, ignoring the twinge across his shoulders, and sets his fingers to the strings.
Somewhere before the final notes Lan Xichen joins him, coming to stand a few paces behind. Lan Wangji lets him wait, executing each note and chord with careful precision. If he gets it wrong, if he makes a mistake -
He’ll try again. He’ll play this song until there is an answer.
The final notes fade and Lan Wangji removes his hands from the strings, resting them on the edge of the low table. He waits, but the strings are still and silent.
“Wangji.” His brother’s voice is gentle, compassionate. Lan Wangji refuses to look at him. “You should be resting.”
“I am fine, brother.” He lifts his hands to the strings again, a little more sharply than before, and winces as the quick movement pulls at the muscles on his back. Lan Xichen draws in a breath behind him, and there’s a rustle of cloth as he moves closer, a brief touch to Lan Wangji’s shoulder as if his brother had gone to lay a hand there and then thought better of it.
“Wei Wuxian is dead, Wangji,” he says, regretful and implacable as the first time he had said it. “His soul is gone.”
“His soul does not answer,” Lan Wangji corrects.
“Is there a difference?” His brother sounds amused.
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “I would know if his soul was destroyed.”
“You would -” Lan Xichen’s voice turns from accommodating to alarmed in the space of two words. His hand lands heavily on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, turning him as Lan Xichen drops into the seat next to him. Lan Wangji suppresses a grunt as he’s turned to face his brother, stil-fresh wounds stretching over tender skin.
“Wangji.” Lan Xichen sounds as serious as Lan Wangji has ever heard him. “How would you know?”
Lan Wangji gazes at him for a long moment, weighing his answer. He’s shown Lan Xichen the mark on his shoulder, but he’s never spoken about the matching one on Wei Wuxian’s chest; is it better or worse that his brother knows that he participated in the murder of Lan Wangji’s soulmate?
He doesn’t, Lan Wangji realizes, much care. Let Lan Xichen make of it what he will.
He shrugs Lan Xichen’s hand off, lifting his own and tugging down the shoulder of his robe. The marks of the discipline whip still run deep and angry into his back; salve and a light robe are the most he can bear to have on his skin. Most days he is bedridden. Today is a good day. His soulmark is still visible, although several red stripes bisect it, marring the clean lines and distorting the inky black design. With each blow that had torn across his soulmark Lan Wangji had bucked against the hands holding him down, praying that Wei Wuxian was still asleep, that he wasn’t feeling this.
It was the only discipline Lan Wangji had ever had to be held down for.
“Wei Ying is dead,” Lan Wangji says, and it sounds like a lie each time he says it, everything in him rebelling at the thought. “His soul is still whole. I will play until he answers.”
“Wangji-” Lan Xichen’s face is creased in shock - but there is nothing here that has changed. Wei Wuxian is still dead. Lan Wangji suddenly doesn’t want to know what would have happened had he told Lan Xichen earlier. He especially doesn’t want to know if it would have changed nothing.
“How is A-Yuan?” Lan Wangji asks, turning back to his guqin.
Lan Xichen sighs, and lets him change the subject. “Better. His fever has broken. I daresay little Lan Yuan will be well enough to be moved here soon.”
“Lan -” Lan Wangji’s fingers pause, and he looks at his brother.
Lan Xichen smiles, but his eyes are pained. “I have caused you enough heartache. I will not take him from you as well.”
Lan Wangji’s hands curl around the edge of his guqin, and his shoulders curve. He can feel one of the wounds across his back splitting open again as his spine bows, but the pain is a distant, secondary thing to the raw tearing in his chest.
Lan Xichen makes a small noise of dismay and then his hands are underneath Lan Wangji’s arms, pulling him up and away. Lan Wangji lets him, suddenly exhausted. Two repetitions is more than he gets through some days; and he has nothing but time now, to rest and to play and to let the wounds on his back heal.
The wound in his chest, in his heart, will take longer. There is only one thing, one person that can make him whole again.
Lan Wangji knows only that wherever Wei Wuxian is, he isn’t gone.
Wei Wuxian
When Wei Wuxian opens his eyes, his first thought is that he has no idea where he is. This old, shabby shed is nowhere he’s ever been, although someone’s clearly been at work here; talismans hang from the ceiling and the walls, painted in something that could be mistaken for red paint, were Wei Wuxian not intimately familiar with what dried blood looks like.
He pushes himself up, and his second thought it that something doesn’t feel right. He’s off-balance, his legs like a newborn colt’s underneath him until he finds his footing and as he stands he sees the array spread out on the floor below, in that same dark red.
Oh. He flexes a hand, turning it over and examining fingers more slender than his own. No wonder things feel weird.
Body-sacrifice. Someone’s been reading his old manuscripts and putting them to bad use.
A thought occurs to him and he scrabbles at the robes over his chest, pulling the fabric aside until he can see -
A bare chest. Slimmer than his own, but clear and unmarked.
Wei Wuxian lets out a short, sharp laugh. He knew it had all been some sort of mistake. Whatever had been - between himself and Lan Wangji in his previous life, clearly it didn’t carry over into this one. It’s like he had always known - he hadn’t really been meant for Hanguang-Jun, he had just -
There’s a tingling on his chest, and Wei Wuxian looks down to see a circular, familiar shape begin to fill in, spreading outward like spilled ink until it takes up its familiar station over his heart.
Well. That still means nothing. It’s not like Lan Wangji is right around the corner, and in this new body in this new place - he doesn’t even know how long it’s been, Wei Wuxian realizes. Maybe Lan Wangji is an old man. Maybe he’s dead.
That thought twists something sick in his stomach and Wei Wuxian shoves it away. He has better things to figure out first - like where the hell he is, and who he’s supposed to be.
Further investigation does not clarify things. Mo Xuanyu certainly had motivation for this kind of ritual, but where on earth an illegitimate Jin banished to a backwater village would have found Wei Wuxian’s old writings is still a mystery. Wei Wuxian would have assumed that anything related to him had been destroyed during the assault on the Burial Mounds.
This, he thinks as he examines a spirit flag as the young Lan disciples flutter around him, appears not to be the case.
Strange. Still, there’s nothing here he can’t handle. A few restless spirits, a little revenge to enact - although he doesn't even have to do any of the work there, as it turns out. Everything is going great for someone who was resurrected only a few hours ago -
Until the Lan juniors fire off a signal flare, calling for one Hanguang-Jun. That’s definitely Wei Wuxian’s cue to leave.
Only it seems the area around this backwards little village is suddenly crawling with high-level cultivators, which is just Wei Wuxian’s luck, and although he tries to stay out of Lan Wangji’s way -
How hard are you trying, a little voice whispers, and Wei Wuxian determinedly ignores it.
- Lan Wangji just keeps showing up, and then the juniors are in danger and there’s really no time to think.
Playing the dizi again feels as natural as breathing - and playing it this badly takes skill, thank you Lan Jingyi - and this song comes when he racks his mind for one. The melody is hauntingly familiar, but it keeps things under control - Wen Ning is a surprise, although a very welcome one - until a large familiar hand seizes his wrist.
It’s Lan Wangji. Of course it is. Wei Wuxian can’t escape him in any lifetime, it seems.
He holds his impromptu flute to his lips and keeps playing. He needs to send Wen Ning away, he needs to make sure everyone is safe; he’ll deal with the cost to himself and his disguise afterward.
The cost is a trip to the Cloud Recesses, courtesy of one Hanguang-Jun. Well. That could have worked out better.
It also could have worked out a lot worse, Wei Wuxian reflects as he picks his way up the path toward the bathing pool. He hasn’t been discovered, probably. The plan now is to be as obnoxious as possible until Lan Wangji or Lan Xichen or even Lan Qiren, if he’s still alive, kicks him out. Then he and Lan Wangji can go their separate ways and Lan Wangji will never...have to...know…
Wei Wuxian’s footsteps slow and a terrible, aching sense of familiarity washes over him as he approaches the cold spring. Lan Wangji stands waist-deep in the water, facing away; his shoulders are slightly broader and more filled out than they had been that night when they were students, but his skin still shines like jade in the moonlight.
Then he pulls his hair over his shoulder, and Wei Wuxian’s footsteps stop.
Cruel, deep scars criss-cross Lan Wangji’s back. They’re old and faded, but deep enough to stretch the skin around them. They must have been bone-deep when they were made. Wei Wuxian can’t imagine how he got them.
Actually. Wei Wuxian’s hand lifts to cover his heart. Maybe he can.
Lan Wangji turns, and Wei Wuxian’s first instinct is to bolt - but perhaps the time for that is passed. Long passed.
Lan Wangji regards him without speaking, and Wei Wuxian can’t read anything that’s happening behind those light eyes. He finds his feet moving forward without his direction, until he’s standing on the edge of the pool, Lan Wangji looking up to meet his eyes.
Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and thinks about waking up screaming, in a cave far from the last place he remembered being. He lets his hand fall from his chest. “You were there. After the slaughter at the Nightless City.”
Lan Wangji nods slowly, and Wei Wuxian blows out the breath he’d been holding. So far this is still common knowledge; Mo Xuanyu could have learned it anywhere. Wei Wuxian pulls off his boots and slides into the cold spring fully dressed; he shivers as the cold seeps into his skin, the water dragging at his clothing, but he needs to be up close for this part.
Lan Wangji watches him over his shoulder but he doesn’t turn as Wei Wuxian circles behind him. Up close the scars are even worse. Wei Wuxian rests his hands gently on Lan Wangji’s back, and Lan Wangji’s skin jumps and pebbles out from his palms.
“You were there with me,” he says, and he can feel the way Lan Wangji’s breath stops in his lungs. Lan Wangji move as if to turn and Wei Wuxian says. “Don’t. Not yet. I’m not - I’m not finished.”
Lan Wangji stills again but Wei Wuxian can see the strain it’s taking to hold himself in place, to not turn and - do what, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know. He’ll find out in a minute, he supposes.
“You were there with me, but not when I woke up. There was a fight outside the cave. Somebody made you leave, and then they did this to you and that’s why - that’s why I didn’t see you, later.”
Lan Wangji tips his head back, clenching his fists, and Wei Wuxian wants to see his face but he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that. “I didn’t know,” Lan Wangji says harshly. “Nothing could have kept me from you otherwise.”
Wei Wuxian huffs out a short laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says. “Because then we’d both have died, and then where would we be.”
Lan Wangji falls silent but Wei Wuxian can hear the disagreement loud and clear. When did he learn to do that, he wonders as he steps closer, sliding his hands around Lan Wangji’s waist. Lan Wangji’s hands settle over his, chilled from the water but still the warmest thing Wei Wuxian knows.
“I spent so long running from you,” he says quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the water. “I didn’t realize you were running after.”
Lan Wangji’s hands tighten on his. “I wanted you to come to it in your own time. I’m just sorry we didn’t have more of it.”
“Well.” Wei Wuxian feels his lips curling up. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Then, before Lan Wangji can say anything that might distract him, Wei Wuxian leans forward and presses his lips to Lan Wangji’s soulmark.
Lan Wangji lets out a short, strangled noise and his knees buckle, but Wei Wuxian tightens his grip and together they manage to stay standing. Wei Wuxian can feel the echo, distant but real, of his own lips pressed over his heart and he smiles against Lan Wangji’s skin, unable to hold back the bright thing singing in his chest.
Lan Wangji turns in his arms, sliding large hands around Wei Wuxian’s waist and lifting him right out of the water; that’s - distractingly hot, enough so that Wei Wuxian gasps in surprise when Lan Wangji deposits him on the pool edge. Lan Wangji crowds in close and Wei Wuxian spreads his legs wide to accommodate, wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji’s shoulders and pulling him close. He’s drenched from the pool and the night air is chilled but with Lan Wangji solid in his arms Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that he’s ever felt warmer.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breathes, and Wei Wuxian smiles.
“Lan Zhan,” he replies. “Hello.”
Lan Wangji surges forward, and the heat of his mouth warms Wei Wuxian from the tips of his ears down to his toes, still swinging in the water. He tilts his head and shift’s closer; he can’t believe they haven’t done this before, haven’t been doing this all along, what kind of idiot -
One of Lan Wangji’s hands pulls roughly at Wei Wuxian’s robes, and then his hand is sliding inside and Wei Wuxian moans into Lan Wangji’s mouth, collapsing against his broad chest as his spine turns molten. His thoughts scatter; all he can think about is closer and warm and only you.
“Only you.” He realizes he’s mumbling the phrase in between desperate kisses and he pulls back because this needs to be said, and he needs to know that Lan Wangji has heard it. “It could only be you. It’s only ever been you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before -”
Lan Wangji stops him with a kiss. “You’re saying it now,” he says when he pulls back, and Wei Wuxian watches in fascination as the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears turn pink.
“Only you,” Lan Wangji says seriously, and then his lips are on Wei Wuxian’s forehead.
“Only you,” Lan Wangji repeats. He presses a kiss to Wei Wuxian’s temple. “Only you.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian groans, closing his eyes. “Please kiss me.”
“I am,” Lan Wangji replies, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes fly open.
“Did you just make a jokemmmph -” he cuts off as Lan Wangji’s lips find his again, and he will take any and every joke at his expense as long as he can keep this, can keep Lan Wangji’s mouth on his.
There are still weighty matters to consider: who the mysterious arm belongs to, how Mo Xuanyu learned about the sacrifice ritual, and how the world at large will react to a newly not-dead Wei Wuxian, among others. But those are for tomorrow; tonight the world is here, pressed between his legs and solid in his arms, his mouth hot on Wei Wuxian’s like he’s making up for lost time.
They have more time, now; Wei Wuxian doesn’t intend to waste a single second of it.