yiling_laozu | (no subject)

(no subject)

He's so tired. So heavy. He's been fighting the current for what feels like hours, yet the shore he can scarcely make out through the water in his eyes never draws closer.

Arm over arm. Kick. Kick. Breathe.

They're motions Wei Wuxian could make in his sleep. For the first time since he startled from slumber to the phantom slither of a whip, Wei Wuxian wonders if he'll die making them too. He should have ignored it, ignored her, but even in death Madam Yu is not a woman who will hear no.

Not even fully corporeal, her specter stands on the far shore, watching him struggle with disapproval in every hard line of her face. Despite his fatigue, Wei Wuxian shudders, words from long ago rising to his ears as if carried on the wind.

If you want to slack off and swim while the others train, swim then. Swim until I say you can stop. Zidian is waiting for you if you fail, boy.

In his youth, Wei Wuxian survived by making a game of it. He treated her torments and tests as trials to make himself stronger, more resilient, a better disciple for Yunmeng whether she wished it or not. He'd been younger then, stronger, and even when she whipped him Wei Wuxian still had a core.

Now he has nothing but the faint lights of home at his back and a growing sense of despair. If he stops now, he'll be lucky if Zidian is the worst thing to find him, for the current of the river is only growing stronger, threatening to sweep him away the moment he falters.

Surely he can stop soon. Surely, even at her angriest, Madam Yu wouldn't actually kill him.

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Wei Wuxian draws a shaky breath as a strength not even the water could take from him returns to his limbs. Lan Wangji is his husband, his zhangfu. He belongs to him more deeply than he ever belonged to Yunmeng. Wei Wuxian grips Lan Wangji's wrists, taking comfort in strong bones and warm flesh beneath his fingertips. His Lan Zhan won't allow her near him again, no matter what argument Wei Wuxian's guilty conscience might make.

"I'm yours," he agrees, smiling despite his pallor. "Ah, my Lan Zhan is so handsome when he says such things."

"Ridiculous," Lan Wangji huffs as he hugs Wei Ying close, frowning as he feels his cold body shivering against his own. He needs to be warm and safe, now.

"Will fly us home, faster than carrying," he announces, Bichen unsheathing with a flick of Lan Wangji's fingers, floating alongside them. He stands smoothly, lifting Wei Ying's too light body with little effort as he carefully adjusts him in his grip.

"Agree?" He will do so without agreement, but likes to offer the choice. Even if it means nothing.

Wei Wuxian nods at once, eager to be in the safety of their home. He ought never have left it, regardless of the smear of purple he'd seen out their bedroom window. "Lan Zhan," he says, snuggling shamelessly into him. Every breath he takes still burns, the ache worsening in the cold, but it's not his first concern just now.

He peers over Lan Wangji's shoulder into the darkness. "What if she's still there?"

He steps neatly onto the sword, rising carefully into the cool night air, keeping a keen eye out for exactly such a threat. His arms are iron bands around Wei Ying, his one and only priority. Even if she is there, if Wei Ying is started, he will be safe in his zhangfu's arms.

"If she is there, I will take care of it," he bites out as they head back up over the river, no such purple glow showing itself yet. "I am Hanguang-Jun. She will fall if she attempts to harm you, again."

For once, Wei Wuxian is quiet. He drew too much notice from the Qishan Wen and brought ruin unto Lotus Pier. If she wishes to harm him, she has every right. Unless, of course, his zhangfu refuses...

"You are Hanguang-Jun," he repeats, relaxing slightly in Lan Wangji's arms. "She will listen to you no matter how angry she is." Madam Yu might have been frequently unreasonable, but she wasn't mad.

"I am uninterested in discussing anything with that woman," he growls, hovering in the air as he looks carefully over their property, incensed as he realizes she must have trespassed their wards. He will have to do better.

He pauses, waiting until he catches Wei Ying's gaze, floating carefully down to their front yard. "Beat down thirty three Lan elders. I can handle Madame Yu. She will never look your way again."

Lan Wangji received the scars on his back for that fight, but a bit of warmth floods Wei Wuxian anyway. How magnificent must he have been then, and all to save Wei Wuxian's empty home and little radish, too!

"I would be glad for that," he admits in a rush of filial impropriety. "I've never made her happy once in my life. It would be a relief never to have to try again."

He suspects Wei Ying does not fully understand his meaning, that he would strike to kill if she showed her face, again. He has watched Wei Ying die once, will not do it again and certainly not at the hands of the woman responsible for so many of Wei Ying's incorrect opinion of himself.

There is no need to clear it up he thinks as Wei Ying would take no joy in it. He would find some way to blame himself if that wretched woman ended up dead. It is irritating enough that Wei Ying feels the need to pay filial piety to her at their family altar.

He pushes into the front room and starts a roaring fire with a wave of his hand before grabbing two soft blankets from a basket. He'd found this world's fascination with blankets very strange until he'd realized how cold Wei Ying often is and immediately purchased twelve of them.

"We will stay here until you are warm," he murmurs, lowering Wei Ying onto the first blanket, unhappy with his still pale lips as he moves to pull Wei Ying's boots off.

Before a fire with his beloved sounds very fine indeed. With the solidity of their walls around them, the last of Wei Wuxian's adrenaline is rapidly fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake. He struggles even to remain seated upright, but pushes the sodden tangle of his hair over his shoulder so it will stop dripping all over him. With the soreness of his back on top of his overused muscles, he doesn't know if he'll ever make it out of his robes, and so he waits in pitiful silence for his Lan Zhan to do it for him.

Wei Ying looks a bit like a wraith, Lan Wangji observes grimly as Wei Ying's boots are set in front of the fire and his deft fingers quickly undo Wei Ying's robes. He is all pale skin and sharp corners and dark hair and Lan Wangji wonders how he stands the winter in this place. Perhaps Lan Wangji could construct a way to heat their bed.

He moves behind Wei Ying to gently peel off the sodden fabric and stills at the deep bruises across his back, nearly identically placed to Lan Wangji's own ridged scars. "She did this?" he asks, voice strained as he moves again, sliding the sleeves all the way down to remove the robe.

Drowsy, Wei Wuxian frowns before he recalls the stripes Zidian had placed on him before he made it to the water. He shifts experimentally, but the marks only ache - it must be courtesy of his thicker sleeping robes that he hadn't been burnt.

"The marks won't last long," he says before remembering that the last time he met Zidian before this, he still had a core. "With herbs, probably."

"You will have herbs and my healing," he promises, running two fingers over Wei Ying's narrow wrist to check his meridians. They are never what they ought to be without his Core but he can feel the qi running, albeit sluggish and weak. His own qi ought to help.

He works his hands down to Wei Ying's trousers, untying a stubborn knot as he tries to ease them down Wei Ying's hips, blankets at the ready.

"Anywhere else? Concentrate. Anywhere else to direct healing?"

Trembling now despite the fire, Wei Wuxian concentrates as he's asked, but he doesn't note anything he hasn't before. He lifts a hand, rubbing at his chest where the ache and itch persist. "I breathed in water," he says. "Aiya, so embarrassing, Lan Zhan!" he laments. He lived nearly his entire life by the water, swimming fearlessly even in the currents of the river.

He pouts with still blue tinged lips. "How will you ever take swimming lessons from me now?"

"Not embarrassing when one is drowning," he huffs, immediately bundling Wei Ying up in two blankets and grabbing a third and setting it aside before raising a hand at Wei Ying.

"Stay exactly there. Will be right back."

He hurries to the kitchen and grabs a tea set for Wei Ying and water, carrying all of it back quickly, not bothering to heat the water just yet. He sets the water to heat with a touch, leaning against the chaise and pulling Wei Ying in between his legs, third blanket thrown over them both.

Wei Wuxian snuggles in shamelessly, greedy for the furnace that is Lan Wangji's body. He lays against him as limp as a noodle for a time, until the growing guilt within him wins its battle with exhaustion. Wei Wuxian sighs.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," he murmurs, cheek pressed against his husband's chest. "I shouldn't have gone outside at all. You sleep so poorly of late as it is. I should have stayed here with you where my heart actually lies. It's been years and I still jump when she commands it."

"I am far more guilty of obeying when I should not. Wei Ying owes no apologies," he assures, reaching over to steep the leaves with the now hot water, the scent of jasmine filling the air. Lan Wangji frowns and dislodges Wei Ying just enough to slip his own robe off, not wanting to further cool him down with his own damp robes.

"It could be this place and not truly her," he says as he pours the tea and brings the cup up to Wei Ying's lips. "Regardless, she will not touch you again. Wei Ying owes her nothing. She will take nothing."

He does owe her, it's why he went outside in the first place, but there's no merit in arguing the point. Calm though it is, Wei Wuxian can hear the anger in his husband's voice, and he doesn't wish to stoke it. He opens his mouth instead for the tea, wincing as it burns, then gulping at it when the searing warmth carves a path through his chilliest places.

Once he's swallowed, Wei Wuxian considers properly. "She wasn't...she didn't seem quite right, now that I think on it," Wei Wuxian admits. "I'm not sure she even spoke. I just knew what she wanted."

He is pleased that Wei Ying drinks without coaxing, holding the tea perfectly steady for Wei Ying when he is ready.

He rubs his cheek against Wei Ying's damp hair, frowning as he pulls a corner of a blanket up and over his head, swaddling Wei Ying further. "Thought I saw my mother at the park, along the river," he admits, wondering how she'd have acted if given a chance. This place does not seem to bestow blessing as much as it does terrors. "Thought I was tired. Perhaps it was something of the same. This place."

Surprised, Wei Wuxian sits up, nearly upsetting the tea cup. "Your mother?" he says. "You didn't say! What if it was her?" The city is such a strange place that even one's own eyes are not to be believed, but even the possibility is incredible.

Unless...the city's strange power had shown Lan Wangji such a vision just to hurt him. Wei Wuxian feels the stoke of an anger he's heard in Lan Wangji's voice all night. "She would appear in your phone," he says quietly. "Klaus taught me. Everyone who is still here will be inside there."

He shakes his head, immediately attempting to stuff Wei Ying back into the blanket pile, tea cup floating back towards his mouth, even as he speaks.

"She was there and gone in seconds," he answers, not having wanted at the time to admit more madness to Wei Ying, not when Lan Wangji had already been acting so strangely. Wei Ying not wanting to wake Lan Wangji, worrying about him, had put him at risk tonight.

"Had it been her, she would not have known who I was. She would remember five year old Lan Zhan, not Lan Wangji."

Edited 2023-11-02 06:30 (UTC)

"I think she would know you," Wei Wuxian murmurs before the teacup makes speech impossible. He takes a hasty sip and swallows. "She's your mother, after all." Unless she isn't, and is indeed another specter of this place.

"Aiya, this land is so confusing sometimes," Wei Wuxian complains. "It doesn't follow any rules at all." He gasps then in revelation. "Is this why most find me so annoying all the time?"

Wei Ying's revelation is, unfortunately, somewhat correct but Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to confirm so he attempts to silence him once again with more tea.

He hopes his mother would recognize him, but is not sure. Another thing he will not voice for fear of dashing hope that Wei Ying might have about his own mother.

"Wei Ying, how does your body feel?" he asks, resting the back of his hand against his cheek and forehead, trying to discern if the growing heat is from the fire or something more nefarious. "Breathed in water, yes?"

Wei Wuxian lifts a hand to scratch uselessly at his chest again. The irritation is significant, but even more troubling is the sensation that he can't seem to get enough air. He'd thought himself merely exhausted, but his energy isn't returning at all.

"I'm tired, Lan Zhan," he admits. "I want to cough but I'm afraid it will hurt too much. Each breath hardly seems to make me feel any less breathless."

Lan Wangji frowns, hitching Wei Ying up to sit a little straighter against his chest, capturing his hand to stare at his nailbeds, not blue as they were but still too pale.

"Wei Ying will let me heal you tonight and tomorrow we can find a local healer if needed," he proclaims, knowing that even if Wei Ying does not agree, he will be far too weak to stop Lan Wangji from doing so.

He suspects that is a wrong thing to think but he cannot always trust Wei Ying to take proper care of himself.

"If water was in your lungs, you must cough. Out rather than in is best."

Wei Wuxian lets Lan Wangji manhandle him in silence, but he frowns at such a proclamation. "I'm sure Lan Zhan can heal me," he says, but he can't help the seed of doubt that forms within him. He'd felt more awful in the Burial Mounds for different reasons, but he's never felt quite like this. It fills him with unease, and he leans back against his husband.

"Can you do it now, Lan Zhan?"