Chapter Text
“Ridiculous,”
Wei Ying let his head fall against the tree trunk with a resounding thump. A grin stretched across his face, and he let out a hearty laugh.
“Aiya, Lan Wangji you found me!” Wei Ying called out, struggling to spin around from his position.
It’d only been at most thirty minutes, but for Wei Ying it had felt like hours. One minute he had been following the trail of the corpse they had been hunting. Rushing through the clearing of tall grass, and struggling his way over to the looming forest.
He had barely made it ten metres, before there had been a sharp pain across the back of his head. Eventually, he’d woken up hanging from a tree with a small patch of blood gathering below him. His ankles had been bound, a thick rope looped them stringing him from the tree like a piece of meat.
Wei Ying gave Lan Wangji a crooked smile, struggling to prevent his body from the swinging motion that had him growing more and more nauseous.
Lan Wangji grunted, a brow raised in concern at Wei Ying’s predicament. He pulled out Bichen and struck through the rope binding Wei Ying to the tree. He blinked as Wei Ying struck the ground with a thump, landing in a battered heap.
“Agh, Lan Wangji be careful. I’m fragile.” Wei Ying groaned hauling himself up and stumbling his way over to Wangji.
A crooked grin stretched across his face as Wei Ying all but collapsed against Lan Wangji. Tucking his head against Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and letting out a breathless laugh.
Wei Ying had been hanging for what felt like hours, thank God for Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji makes a barely discernible grunt at Wei Ying’s antics, “Bleeding.”
“Ah it’s nothing Lan Wangji, just a bit of blood.” Wei Ying assured, wincing as he brought a hand to the back of his head. Pulling away he noted the reasonable amount of blood on his fingers. Whoops.
“Dangerous. I’ll finish here.” Lan Wangji ordered, pulling Wei Ying more securely across his shoulders and hauling him back through the clearing.
Wei Ying grimaced and opened his mouth to argue. Noting the sharp look from Lan Wangji, and the hand he raised, Wei Ying quickly snapped his mouth shut.
“Hm,”
Wei Ying had come to a number of reasonable conclusions, during his short time on Earth. One of those conclusions was to not push Lan Wangji beyond reasonable boundaries. Especially, when said boundary was Wei Ying’s health. He couldn’t remember when he’d first observed Lan Wangji’s protectiveness, or his over-protectiveness. Perhaps it had been during the fight with the Xuanwu of slaughter. Maybe it had been earlier, during those times in playing around in Gusu. Either way, Wei Ying couldn’t tell you when the urges had arose, they’d just appeared and had quickly stuck.
So as Wei Ying found himself hanging off of Lan Wangji’s shoulders, vision hazy and feet stumbling below him; he made no noise of complaint. He let Lan Wangji continue as he always did, that’s the least Wei Ying could do… after everything that had happened.
As they walked- stumbled- moments blurred into one jumbled mass; all too soon Wei Ying found himself back at the inn. Laid carefully on the musty bed covers, with Lan Wangji bent over him. Wei Ying yelped, as he was rolled onto his side facing the dark oak of the bed frame. Combing through the strands of matted hair, Lan Wangji deftly uncovered the wound.
“Ah Lan Zhan don’t be so eager, throwing me around on the bed like this,” Wei Ying teased, wincing as Lan Wangji poked at his wound in response.
Wei Ying laid unnaturally still, listening to the quiet rustling of Lan Wangji’s movements. The tell-tale clinking of ceramic containers, and the muffled movement of fingers searching through a satchel. The movement stopped, and he fought back a wince when he felt the familiar sting of medicine on a cut.
Working fast Lan Wangji deftly cleaned the wound, frowning as blood continued to sluggishly pool out of the wound.
“En,” Lan Wangji muttered, “It’s still bleeding.”
“Head wounds do that, just leave it Lan Wangji, it’ll clear up.” Wei Ying assured, sighing as Lan Wangji continued to ignore him. Soon enough, there was the sound of fabric ripping. Wei Ying struggled to turn around and protest, but Lan Wangji was quicker pushing him firmly against the mattress.
“Don’t tear up your robes for this,” Wei Ying argued, shifting against the firm hand that held him still.
Lan Wangji didn’t grace him with a response, gripping the two strands of fabric. One he used to pack against the wound, and the other he used to wrap around the struggling man’s head. Lifting it with no decorum, winding it around and tucking it tightly to staunch the slowing blood flow.
“Are you satisfied now? Can I get up?” Wei Ying complained, gazing up at Lan Wangji with an air of petulance.
He let out another humph, as the hands returned to his shoulders and pushed him down firmly. Wei Ying’s arms were tucked to his sides, and the blankets were wound tightly around him. He struggled vehemently, but Lan Wangji continued. Layer after layer, until Wei Ying resembled a disgruntled cocoon.
“Stay, and rest. I’ll return by evening.” Lan Wangji ordered, quietly tucking away the equipment he had used. He moved across the other side of the room, where the basin of water sat, and scrubbed at the blood left on his hands.
“I can help, just let me up.” Wei Ying struggled against the bedding, letting out a wail as the blankets refused to budge, “Lan Wangji, you made this bed into a prison!”
Somehow Wei Ying had made himself more stuck. Curse Mo Xuanyu, his useless body and his even more useless golden core. Sixteen years ago, and Wei Wuxian would have been chasing right after the corpse, he wouldn’t have been hit in the first place. He’d been done dirty.
Lan Wangji let out a small snort, softly watching Wei Ying’s struggles, before picking up his sword and surveying Wei Ying one last time.
“Rest well; do not follow me. I’ll deal with the corpse, and the rogue cultivator.” Lan Wangji swept out the door and locked it behind him.
Wei Ying yelled, struggling in vain to kick his feet free from the blankets, “Lan Wangji, you useless stick in the mud!”