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Disgusting.
The cave reeks of contaminated water and death old and new with the recently killed Wens already starting to release their bowels. All this alone would make Lan Wangji’s stomach sour even without the combination of meager meals and his leg hurt twice over. His injuries throb to the beat of his heart. Even with all that, he thinks he’d be able to bear the strain with equanimity. Unfortunately, his head also aches and it has nothing to do with injuries or incoming dehydration, and everything to do with—
“Lan Zhaaaan.”
Lan Wangji’s jaw tightens another notch as he tries to shift in such a way to dry as much of himself as possible while also keeping his back to the source of his ire.
“Lan Zhaaa— Oh, ew, this is gonna be such an ugly scar.”
Wei Ying who, even when in a situation as grim as this one, can’t stop running his mouth or body. Wangji ignores his fellow prisoner’s wriggling and whining as much as possible as he stares into the fire. He can’t understand how nothing seems to dampen Wei Ying’s mood. They’re trapped with no rations or clean water, have no idea when or if they’re going to be rescued, both of them are injured, and the Xuanwu roars are frequently enough to show it knows they’re still there. How in heaven’s name can he not see the bleak possibility of their leaving this cave with their lives?
In such a time as dire as these, things truly could be worse. Their wounds aren’t yet infected and no others are trapped with them. Weak or brash cultivators can and will make everything worse and feed off Wei Ying’s energy. Someone of Nie Huaisang’s disposition would only hold them back as he’d previously shown, and Jiang Wanyin—
No, his headache will only grow if he thinks about that person.
(Annoying. Loud. Ill-mannered. Wei Ying hangs off him. Nobody should be touching Wei Ying like that but me. Disrespectful.)
“Hey, Wei Wuxian!”
Wangji twists around sharply and is mentally horrified to see the object of his scorn scrambling his damp way across the rocks like some sort of waterlogged nightmare beast.
“Jiang Cheng!”
He will never think that a situation could be worse ever again.
- - -
Jiang Wanyin explains how, after escaping the cave, a small contingent of Wen cultivators appeared but were quickly overwhelmed by their larger group. He had instructed the Jiang disciples to follow Jin Zixuan’s orders and head to Koi Tower for help before diving back into the water.
“What’d you do to piss it off so bad?” he asks, scowling at Wei Ying even as he swats at his hands and peels open damp robes to show burnt skin. “The Xuanwu caused a cave in and sealed the exit.”
“And you always tell me to stop playing the hero!” Wei Ying crows, clearly pleased by the attention even as he and Jiang Wanyin get into an immature slap fight as they try to control how much or little skin is being covered. “Aiya, a-Cheng, you see enough of my chest as is! Are you insatiable?”
“You—!” Jiang Wanyin’s scowl grows darker and he jerks Wei Ying’s robes closed. “Who wants to see your chest anyway!” Violet colored spiritual energy gathers in his hand even as Wei Ying bucks him off and scoots backwards. “Get back here, idiot! I’m trying to heal you!”
Shaking his head quickly, Wei Ying catches the hand aiming for him and the energy briefly flares red then settles on purple as they push at one another until he manages to get enough space between them. “You need to save your strength too! Didn’t you come back to save me? How do you plan on doing that if you’re drained?”
“Wha—Who said anything about saving you?!” Jiang Wanyin bellows, his face an ugly red color as he jerks away from Wei Ying, allowing him to scuttle to the far side of the fire. “Obviously I came to save Lan-er-gongzi!”
Wangji glares at this and Wei Ying opens his mouth but his retort is cut off by another roar and the three are silent as the cave trembles around them.
When it becomes clear they won’t be crushed by falling rocks, Jiang Wanyin snorts and flicks his energy at an unconcerned Wei Ying. Wangji’s breath freezes and he shifts to throw himself forward to block the attack, only to be stopped by his leg. To his astonishment, Wei Ying easily catches it with his fingers. Somehow, he’s able to mold the energy into a ball and add his own to change it back to a purple color. Once done, he flicks the ball towards Jiang Wanyin who easily catches and fires it right back.
The precise control both have leaves Wangji astonished and he watches the ball zip back and forth between them. That amount of energy could serious injure a normal cultivator and yet they’re treating it like some easy game. Never has he ever seen something so reckless and he realizes they’ve both been idly chatting this whole time. Unbelievable!
“—coward. That Wen Chao.” Wei Ying clicks his tongue and his eyes roll, matching Jiang Wanyin’s. “Bet he wouldn’t be nearly so tough if Core-Melting Hand wasn’t at his beck and call.”
“He wouldn’t, but that’s not the point. You’ve really pissed them off now. Taking Wen Chao hostage like that, are you stupid?”
Wei Ying gasps and presses a dramatic hand to his chest. “Me? Stupid? How could you say something like that when I do everything for you. Maybe you’re the stupid one, a-Cheng!”
“You—! There’s not even a brain in that skull of yours, just loose lotus seeds!”
“At least they’re seeds! They’ll grow a sprout beautiful thought flowers. You only have two stones. Pebbles!”
Grinding his teeth, Wangji squeezes his eyes closed and tries to block out their arguing with meditation. It’s harder than he thought, what with him being attuned to Wei Ying’s voice (good) as well as Jiang Wanyin’s (bad).
(Does Wei Ying endure such insults all the time? It’s obvious he says them in jest while Jiang Wanyin seeks to harm him. Gossiping is forbidden, but he clearly remembers the talk at the lectures of how hated Wei Ying is by the mistress of Lotus Pier. Nie disciples claimed regular beatings while several Jin hissed about seeing whip scars along his back from when they’d been to Lotus Pier and seen Wei Ying swimming with his shidi and shimei.)
Wangji forces himself to breathe and opens his eyes to tune back into the conversation now that his two companions have finished fighting.
“—shell is the biggest problem,” Wei Ying is saying as he leans against Jiang Wanyin’s side. The sight makes Wangji squeeze his eyes close again. They’re both where Wei Ying was sitting alone previously which means Jiang Wanyin had to have moved over at some point. “Maybe we can get inside somehow and blow it off. We can carve it up after and have soup for years.”
Jiang Wanyin snorts but asks, “How do you expect to do that? You’re running low on energy as is.”
“Ah...the bodies might have something on them? We can go down and search while it’s distracted or asleep or something.”
While looting doesn’t sit well with him, Wangji sees the merits. They’ve been stripped of their swords and any additionally equipment won’t be unwelcome. Rations or clean water would be an even greater boon.
When he once again focuses on the conversation, he has a sudden, terrible realization: Wei Ying, who spent his few months of study at Cloud Recesses, had attached himself to Wangji and focused on him nearly more than any other single person.
(It had rankled him to no end with how the tranquility of his home had been disturbed with running, laughing, fish catching, pheasant hunting, and Wei Ying’s constant chatter. Never had he heard someone speak so much about senseless topics. What did favorite colors or foods matter? Living without preference suited him just fine. To say how fast you swam or bragging about the beauty of one’s home was pure vanity and pride. The constant invitations to town were clearly attempts at pulling Wangji into whatever that day’s mischief would entail.
It was an honest relief when Wei Ying was expelled. His studies were once again peaceful and no one else asked for his time apart from his brother or uncle. It was quiet (lonely, so lonely and empty), just how he liked it.)
But this Wei Ying hasn’t spared Wangji a glance since Jiang Wanyin joined them. No invitations to join their conversation had been forthcoming, and it’s Jiang Wanyin who glances at him with any sort of frequency. Even as he watches and tries to catch Wei Ying’s eye, he finds it impossible as Wei Ying’s sole focus remains on his shidi.
Wangji had thought the constant cries of his name and attempts at gaining his attention were annoying. Bothersome. Yet he’s now finding himself trying to get a single acknowledgment of his presence to no avail.
To Wei Ying, it’s as though Wangji doesn’t exist.
- - -
The casual touches between the two are pure agony.
As though rehearsed, Jiang Wanyin nudges Wei Ying to sit in front and takes his ponytail down. With patience born of practice, he runs gentle fingers through Wei Ying’s partially damp hair as they talk without pause, trading jokes and jabs with ease. When Wei Ying acts as though to pull away and whines about every tangle, Jiang Wanyin responds with a snort or a curse and a tug on the offending piece of hair.
It’s so casual and near domestic that Wangji finds himself feeling some measure of guilt to even witness the two in this state.
Perhaps even worse is when Wei Ying has his fingers in Jiang Wanyin’s hair. The purple ribbon is tied to Wei Ying’s wrist and Wangji feels physical pain in his stomach that has nothing to do with hunger. Those delicate wrists had starred in many a shameful dream, either bruised by Wangji’s fingers or trussed in his own ribbon. To see another man’s there so casually makes him sick.
And all the while the two continue talking and talking as though they can’t imagine stopping.
“Ugh,” Wei Ying’s nose wrinkles (and Wangji’s wishes to throttle the part of his mind which finds this enchanting) as he unwinds his shidi’s braids, “the water smells like shit.”
Without a glance, Jiang Wanyin reaches up and lands a flick perfectly on Wei Ying’s nose. “You smell worse.”
Gasping, a hand once more goes to Wei Ying’s chest, and he performs his shock for an unseeing audience. “a-Cheng, so rude!” His cheeks puff and lips form a pout as he goes back to finger combing Jiang Wanyin’s hair. “Anyway, no one can smell as bad as—”
“Meishan eel noodles,” they say simultaneously and, as one, they both laugh.
(Wangji had thought he’d known Wei Ying’s laughs and joy. But what he’d seen before was the moon when compared to the pure sunlight of Wei Ying’s uncomplicated joy. His throws his head backwards and laughter peels out of him, unrestrained. Even the Xuanwu’s answering roar does nothing to dim the glow of warmth surrounding him.)
(He wants to look away as much as he wants to remember the sight and so remains frozen and stupidly silent.)
Eventually, the roaring ceases, as does Jiang Wanyin’s smacking at Wei Ying’s arms and head while they both remain breathless with laughter. As the firelight lowers, the two of them settle further into each other.
“Jiang Cheeeng, your chest is so hard,” Wei Ying complains where his head is pillowed. He whines piteously when Jiang Wanyin wriggles as though to push him away. The effect is ruined with how tightly his hand is gripping the back of Wei Ying’s robes, thus shaking them both more than freeing himself.
“I didn’t say I’d be your pillow! Get off me!”
“Noooo~”
Wangji’s finally able to force his gaze away and he glares into the fire’s embers, hoping it’ll sear away the scene he’d been forced to witness.
(If he took a burning stick and blinded himself, would he be able to forget the softness of Wei Ying’s mouth and his fluttering eyelashes as he readies for sleep?)
Indistinct murmurs and whispers chase him into closing his eyes tight. He tries to once more force himself into meditation and, when this fails, prays for a dreamless sleep. Even the oblivion of liquor seems better than this.
With nothing but torturous thoughts to accompany him, so passes the longest night of Lan Wangji’s young life.
(So far.)