Chapter Text
Yearning for you, waiting for your return.
" Lan Zhan, what do you think? The lotuses in Lotus Pier are beautiful, aren't they? If only you could come and take a look, it would be much more beautiful. If I have the chance, I will seriously take you to Yunmeng!" Wei Ying beamed as he thought of the idea, his feet aimlessly striding deeper in the mountains as Lan Zhan followed from behind.
Lan Zhan did not bother to reply right away, following silently from behind as the back of Wei Ying covered his vision. He pressed his lips. Will Wei Ying have the chance to bring him to Yunmeng just when he is currently hiding in burial mounds? The conversation they shared certainly left an acrid taste on their tongues, at the mentions of places they could no longer return, Lan Zhan so desperately wanted to change the topic, but there was no point if he were to shrug Wei Ying's longing.
"Wei Ying," he called, this time, his voice was embedded with visible rue. "There is no need for you to take me to Yunmeng."
Wei Ying instantly turned around, a look of bafflement painting his face, almost looking pained. "Are you saying that you don't want to come?"
Lan Zhan shook his head. "No."
Wei Ying continued to stare at him. Misunderstanding was clearly evident, but Lan Zhan just doesn't know whether what he was about to say next would either render Wei Ying to burst in a laughing fit or knit his brows in utter confusion. "Then why not come with me? Is it because I could not return as of the moment, that you think there would be no chance?"
"No," Lan Zhan answered.
"Then why? Ah! I'm sure you must be lying. You just don't want to go to Yunmeng because it's too free for you, isn't it? Come on, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying chuckled as he uttered such words. To lift up the atmosphere, Lan Zhan assumed, but it was so awfully done that he could not help but frown.
"I do not need to head to Yunmeng just to see a lotus. A lotus is already in front of me."
…
Wei Ying is a lotus.
It wasn't a coincidence that a person, an embodiment of a lotus, resides in Lotus Pier. a symbolism of purity and rebirth—while Wei Ying may be a lad caught by mischief, his principles were always as clear as the waters occupied by a bed of lotus. Lan Zhan had always thought of such that, even if Wei Ying had invited him to come to Lotus Pier to have a look at the lotuses a couple of times, he would say that there is no need.
Lan Zhan, now, had forgotten what a lotus looked like. He had asked a few disciples to get him a book regarding lotus, and Lotus Pier, and Yunmeng, but the disciples would apologetically bow down and defy his offer, saying that anything regarding the Jiang Clan, or even Wei Ying, is prohibited for his eyes to see and for his hands to reach. But no such punishment, such as for his heart to continuously yearn, was included in his seclusion because this was something even his heart could not cease.
Lan Zhan wanted to go outside of Cloud Recesses but his body condition would not allow him. After failing to save Wei Ying after the incident in Nightless City, he was greeted with the atrocious strikes of the discipline whip, a total of thirty-three for the people he defied. But such pain does not equal the punishment of not being able to see Wei Ying. Not being able to see how he was, he was even starting to forget what Wei Ying would normally wear, or how Suibian looked, or what color were his robes.
But even if his body would not allow him to move, he could at least head outside in the middle of the night. He would sit on top of a large boulder, take his guqin, and accompanied with such winces, he would play wangxian in bitter hopes that Wei Ying could hear. He knew that playing the guqin was not enough to tame the sorrow inside of Wei Ying's heart, but he at least hoped that the intention of his affection would result to let Wei Ying know that no matter how far he is from him, he would always be with him.
It pained him. How the melodies of wangxian used to hum memories of what had occured on the Dusk Creek Mountain—in spite of how it revoked such quandary—it was a memory that could calm him in a sense. Now, as he continues to play, all he could ever think of is Wei Ying—how he must have been so lonely, and confused, and lost, yet Lan Zhan is not beside him.
As he closed his eyes and now recalled the time when he had visited the Burial Mounds, a sudden voice whispered closely in his ear, "Lan Zhan, A-Yuan, when things finally settle, and when Jiang Cheng finally understands, I will bring you both to Yunmeng!"
And while he blissfully recalled the widest and brightest grin that Wei Ying showed him, and how Yuan, who was such a feeble child, jumped in excitement, and how he, relieved, looked at the two with such hope—he felt a sudden surge of suffocation.
A sudden surge of reality that, no matter how many times he tried to recall, the moment he opened his eyes was the moment he could see the darkness that awaits him. He shut his eyes tight. But he tried, yet, the stuffiness inside his chest was unbelievably unbearable that the moment he fluttered his eyes open, he could feel his chest sink in a deep chasm. The next time, he struggled to breathe for air. Oddly enough, why is it that he could feel fluttering movements inside his chest, waiting to get out from his arid mouth?
He could not heave a word, but the way his eyes widened was enough to say that he could visibly struggle. His fingers intertwined with the strings of his guqin, pulling until it was on the verge to snap, but this was because Lan Zhan could not breathe. He could not utter for help and, no matter how strong he was as a cultivator, he could not suppress the uncanny suffocation. Before then, he finally gagged, bursting into a coughing fit and—
White lotuses.
It just so happens that, due to Lan Zhan's severe longing to see a single lotus, he could not help but actually sigh in relief—disregarding the fact whether it came from the waters of a clear pond, or from the heaviness brought by the yearnings in his chest. It was then that the happiness he felt after seeing the flower tainted with blood made him gasp in horror. Not because there was blood, but because such a beautiful, elegant white lotus is tainted with red—with his own blood, and he wondered why.
Before he could even call for help, a handful of white lotus continued to emit from his mouth. And it was so painful, so so painful that he could not bear adoring such familiar flowers. Instead, he was starting to resent the view—of white lotuses, as pure and noble—was tainted with the blood of his grief. Was he that desperate, that lonely that even white lotuses decided to grow inside his empty heart and bloom until it corrupted him?
The white lotus that came out from his mouth all fell from his trembling hands until it finally halted. He coughed for a few more, spitting out remaining blood as a few drips in the corners of his tattered lips. He looked at the lotus, a sudden thought coming to mind, but he was only stopped when he saw a disciple wearing the Lan sect uniform coming to him with a horrible expression.
"Hanguang-jun, I apologize for my sudden appearance but, I had just received a message that the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian, has already perished!"