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The world blurred every night, giving way to a heavy slumber.
In the middle of the Jingshi, rebel lights still shone. Which sane cultivator could still be awake, wondered the new, little inner disciples.
Respected HanGuang-Jun wasn’t inside his room, but in a peaceful clear, sitting, guqin on his lap, ready for another night of “Inquiry”. Prepared, yes, because he knew the notes by heart, but… unready as ever to receive only disappointment, again, in response.
From that darkened clear patch, the same melody wafted through the air, as every night before, since who knows when. Delicate, coaxing souls to come closer and give a word to that overwhelmed mortal playing the chords. How could not everyone know? Lan WangJi had interpreted the song for years.
Lan XiChen, on the other hand, concealed the pain in his features every time the music started. He knew, he had seen it all a long time ago. If only it hadn’t been him, if only things had been different, then…
The first chords took away his thoughts with them, and traveled through thin air and thick mist. The guqin trembled under Lan WangJi’s firm hands, the man everyone held in such high regard since he was a kid… as he crumbled apart, note by note, in his unbridled sorrow. He had followed the rules, so why did this have to happen to him? He had been good, just as Mother had told him, but then he couldn’t visit her anymore. He had tried to take Wei Ying back to Gusu, to protect him from any possible danger, even if he had to become like his Father for the rest of his life… so, why was he playing alone?
What have you done, Wei Ying? Where have you gone?
As his eyes glistened quietly, and souls gathered around his guqin, the melody turned into a magical scene. In front of the glass-like eyes, a wisp of spirit played the notes with him, answering his questions delicately. A small frown, and then… nothing.
The magical scene faded into the night. The clear eyes were moist, but no tears fell. Two hands rested on top of the seven strings, and a heavy heart placed itself on top of them. With the fall of a leaf, and like a breath of wind, the ethereal figure disappeared. In less than a minute, the Jingshi’s lights had been turned off, smoke rising to wave them goodbye.
Lan WangJi’s figure couldn’t be distinguished from the shadows, but his eyes were clear as ever, although empty and aloof. By five o’clock, he was wide awake as per habit, and he cleaned and dressed himself as usual.
That’s how life had been for him these past years. From rescuing people in distress, cultivating in secluded meditation, and taking care of his juniors, everything was done impeccably. His title of “Appearing wherever chaos was” hadn’t been earned in vain. Every day, he took BiChen and WangJi, and looked for whoever needed his help, even if they only needed help, and not him.
His hope of finding Wei WuXian in some stranger’s eyes had never faded, but sadly, nobody could tell his gaze apart from the usual cold demeanor he had acquiesced to since he was young. His facial paralysis, as some liked to call it, made him some sort of unapproachable, and only his little juniors held him close to their hearts. Apart from his Brother and Uncle, nobody but them could claim to have a place in HanGuang-Jun’s heart, but all of them together also weren’t enough to fill in the gigantic gap that Wei WuXian’s death had left inside him.
From sunrise to sunset, his white robes reflected mourning, but also his desire to wipe off any remains of that yearning that made him brandish a hot iron and slam it into his chest. His will had never faded, and he was stubborn as ever, but his heart wanted a different thing. Even if he saved every single person in this world once or twice, no one could ever amount to the strength with which Wei Ying clung to his very being, draining his body of life and taking him back to the solitary clear in the Cloud’s Recesses, to play an entire melody of yearning all over again.
He had never wanted to harm himself, but if he could have Wei Ying’s scars, maybe he’d linger closer to himself, like the soft wings of a dragonfly couldn’t touch the water even if it was grazing the lake. He had never wanted to die, but he couldn’t live a fulfilled life, either. All he could do was mourn in silence, wear his usual white robes, and be a hero to all the people that Wei Ying had wanted to protect once. Get out of his room, away from the hidden jars of Emperor’s Smile, and save everyone, because he couldn’t save himself. Live a good life, going through the motions, until the day of his demise, when he could finally let go of all worldly bindings, and perhaps reunite with Wei Ying in eternal slumber.
With the same two hands he had shielded Wei Ying from his own elders, he played the guqin and wielded his sword, leaving peace after himself. The vivid image of dignity and grace, hiding the pain and yearning of a lifetime of regrets.
Until the day he heard it.
A melody that could only live in his dreams, along with his desire to kiss that young boy that night in the cave, where he had bandaged his injures and taken care of him so meticulously, only to end up saying nonsense about that Mian Mian.
The tension in his hands couldn’t rival the thundering of his heart, and the same two eyes that gleamed and glistened every night since his departure had come back to life. If anyone could see him, the would’ve been taken aback for sure. Stone walls that he had erected around himself fell to the ground soundlessly, dissolving into paper cranes that flew into the blue sky.
Leaving nothing but dust after his steps, he flew for dear life, clinging to the horrible sound that only he could’ve recognized, for all the years he had played it inside the tightly shut Jingshi. Behind those walls, where he kept the little pouch of herbs close to his heart, and his forehead ribbon somewhat crooked, so that Wei Ying could fix it for him. Sword in one hand, as he had always done, but shaking with the force of its owner. Guqin in the other, quickly being discarded into thin air.
Not even all three thousand rules in this world could compare to a single, no, to half of a jar of Emperor’s Smile.
The ghostly streets and empty mountains gained color all over again. The greenery seemed to be even greener, and the pain shattered into a million pieces before him, with the sound of a flute that was haphazardly made.
Masked in somebody else’s body, but with the same enchanting personality, a crazed little Wei WuXian had just alarmed everyone bringing the Ghost General from who knows where. Lan WangJi’s face was frozen for all eternity, but his heart was about to explode. With moist eyes, he couldn’t resist it anymore, when the soft, warm and terribly alive young man bumped into him.
One gaze was everything they needed to go back again. One tune, one heart and soul, and the silent promise of never letting go again in a lifetime.
Wei WuXian smiled, spouting nonsense again. And then, like the sun that finally rises after a stormy night, a smile.
Wei Ying… you’re back.