Despite the circumstances behind Jin Zixuan's sudden departure from Carp Tower, there's exists a more pressing matter to consider upon his arrival in Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian has yet to heal.

A-Li, who had practically raised him, is a haggard shell of herself. It is not a physical manifestation- A-Li is as beautiful as she has always been: pale skin, small nose, rogue-red lips, and delicate fingers.

It's the way she greets Jin Zixuan: eyes shadowed, her smile a wane crescent moon. It's the way she reaches out for their son and draws him tightly to her breast, as if doing so would keep him from some similar fate.

A-Li doesn't tell Jin Zixuan what she feels exactly- not in so many words- but when she takes his hand in hers and squeezes, he can, for a moment, parse through the thickness of her despair.

Wei Wuxian, who no longer associates with the rest of the Cultivation World-

Wei Wuxian, whose legacy has driven itself into the bowels of the earth-

Wei Wuxian, who A-Li cannot openly care for, who is her younger brother and closest friend is dying.

And his death, though it would be far from sudden, will destroy A-Li utterly- is already destroying her, although it has yet to happen.

That's the issue, however. More than opportunistic assassins and the death of Jin Zixuan's father, conflicted as he is by its happening. Because although they have Wen Qing, and access to the Lan Clan's veritable Library through their Second Heir… Wei Wuxian has been bedridden for months- supposedly since far before A-Ling's One Month Celebration. Even for a Strong Cultivator, such a long-persisting disease is cause for concern. That Wei Wuxian has apparently spent years without his Golden Core already-

"We still have more time," Jin Zixuan says, just as they cross through the gates of Lotus Pier.

A-Li turns so her nose is tucked into A-Ling's swaddled shoulder- to hide her expression from him, perhaps, as if she were again a shy maiden. Her answer for him, upon his prompting, is simple enough. A quiet, "I don't think so, A-Xuan."

There's more to it, he thinks. More than the slump of A-Li's shoulders and the weight that drags her feet across the courtyard. A-Li has always been optimistic to a fault, stubborn, and incredibly strong-willed. Although Wei Wuxian is her brother, seeing him ill should not have taken those most fundamental pieces of her personality.

"A-Li," Jin Zixuan calls to her. He can see the red beneath her eyes when she turns to face him, her small, silent frown. The words, the short assurance he had thought to give her, dies on his tongue.

"It will be okay, A-Li." He ends up saying, and it falls so completely short of what he means.

"I know, A-Xuan." A-Li answers. It's obvious, just through the quick flash of her smile, that she's only indulging him. Jin Zixuan, who can barely stomach long conversations with others- even family- is forced to concede before this devolves into something else. A-Li's quiescent anger, if he is lucky. A-Li's tears, his own horror, and her brother's wrath if he isn't.

"Come along," A-Li picks up their conversation again, just as they clear away from the Disciple's Training Grounds. "A-Cheng will be expecting dinner shortly, we will assure that the proper arrangements are in place, then we will greet him."

The communal kitchen is a hubbub of activity: closed pots over orange licks of flames; servants with their rattan fans and fire-irons; other servants still with a various assortment of fish, vegetables, red meats, and seasonings. If one did not know the circumstances that had taken Lotus Pier to its knees, one wouldn't have even realized anything was wrong just by looking at it.

This particular excursion ends up being a short one. More so that A-Li could tell the servants where to send all their food than anything else.

"I apologize, baobei." A-Li whispers to him as they again avoid the corridor that would lead them to their rooms. "I know that the journey would have tired you, but A-Xian…"

"I understand, A-Li." Jin Zixuan does, in the barest sense. He doesn't quite love or care for A-Yao as deeply as A-Li does her younger brothers, but he understands devotion and wanting to ease the pain of slow illness. While Jin Zixuan can still say with certainty that there is no love lost between he and A-Li's brothers- Wei Wusian, especially- he will not begrudge her this wish. A-Li had made it abundantly clear from the day A-Ling was born and every day since: A-Xian will be excited to meet his nephew, and nothing should take precedence before this exact thing.

"Be kind, A-Xuan." A-Li reminds him, just as they turn to face Wei Wuxian's room door.

"Of course." He answers, knocking.

Jiang Wanyin is the one to open the door for them both. His scowl is not as severe as it tends to be. A-Li is here, for one, and she holds in her hands his beloved nephew. Jin Zixuan, his eyes quickly skip over, like ignoring faded words beneath aged papyrus. There because of history, but ultimately unimportant.

"Wei Wuxian is out on the veranda." He grunts. From behind him, Jin Zixuan hears a sharp gasp, and after, a warbled, "My nephew?!"

"Hello, A-Xian." A-Li greets, her brows raised as if to say: 'stay put.' Wei Wuxian, who seems to have gained at least some bits of his weight since last he's seen him, laughs sheepishly before making grabby hands for their son, smile wide.

"Ah! He looks just like Shijie!" Wei Wuxian crows, although A-Ling's face is still tucked into the crook of A-Li's neck. Jiang Wanyin thunders his way over to the back of Wei Wuxian's chair and holds him by the arm before A-Li arrives.

"Careful, idiot." He scolds. The slap across the back that usually follows is absent.

"Oh shush, Jiang Cheng. Look at him! Look! He's so beautiful, Shijie, it's like all of his peacock genes are absent!"

"A-Xian!"

The irritation that used to swell within him after Wei Wuxian's comments doesn't deign to visit him. Instead, Jin Zixuan finds his mind afloat somewhere that's not quite here.

Wei Wuxian, though sick and dying, is as happy as he ever seems to be. When A-Li hands A-Ling over, he takes him with both arms, shaking as they are, and laughs as if there aren't tears running down his cheeks.

"Look at you." Wei Wuxian whispers, bowing so his forehead is pressed against the top of A-Ling's head. "You're so, so beautiful. I'm so glad to meet you!"

Jin Zixuan looks away from the scene, although he is technically family to all parties. This scene just feels so incredibly private. A-Li is on her knees, helping to steady Wei Wuxian's arm as he holds her son for the very first time, wiping his tears even as new ones race to replace them. And Wei Wuxian has not stopped babbling, has not stopped running his fingers through A-Ling's hair as if he's surprised to even meet him.

It's like the stage-plays in Lanling's city square, the ones Jin Zixuan used to disguise himself for, just to witness. Like those quiet moments beneath the moonlight, the calm before the storm that hails every tragic ending.

Jiang Wanyin, when he turns to him, is in much the same position. Frown reaching his chin, arms folded as he watches, saying nothing at all.

"Shijie," Wei Wuxian's voice breaks through the silence, thick with emotion. "Thank you so, so much, Shijie."

"A-Xuan brought A-Ling here, A-Xian. I only went out to greet them."

Jin Zixuan doesn't actually expect Wei Wuxian to turn to look at him afterward; nor does he expect the quiet, happy smile that lingers across Wei Wuxian's cheeks.

"Jin Zixuan," He says, hugging A-Ling close just as he starts to awaken. "I don,t really like you, but I don't think I can ever repay you for allowing me to- yeah."

"Thank you."

Three weeks. That's how long it takes before Wei Wuxian's possible death starts becoming an absolute inevitability.

Wen Qing is long gone, by the end, and Lan Wangji, though still in Lotus Pier, steadfastly adheres only to his useless ideal of letting Wei Wuxian decide his own faith.

As if Wei Wuxian hadn't given up on living past the age of twenty the moment the war had ended.

It's mostly happenstance that leads Jin Zixuan to Wei Wuxian's rooms again. Happenstance, and the surety that Lan Wangji has gone off to personally take care of Wei Wuxian's dinner instead of looming over him like an old guard dog.

"Jin Zixuan," Wei Wuxian rasps, seemingly not at all surprised by his appearance. He tips his head across his pillow and wobbles through a greeting smile as Jin Zixuan makes himself comfortable on the stool beside his bed. "Took you… long enough."

"Lan Wangji." Is all the explanation Wei Wuxian receives from him. It's not as if his wits have been affected by this mysterious illness, and Jin Zixuan has made his position known since the day he figured him out.

Wei Wuxian, as always, it seems, laughs until his breath rattles his chest. When blood pours from his nose, he only gestures towards the bowl of clear water atop his work table, and the folded strips of cloth beside it.

"Shijie- Shijie definitely didn't force you here," Wei Wuxian whispers, smiling even as Jin Zixuan steadily rubs the cloth over the side of his cheek. "Jiang Cheng didn't, either. And Lan Z-Zhan really- really dislikes you."

"Lan Wangji dislikes everyone." Jin Zixuan says, rinsing the bloodied cloth only to have to rub it across Wei Wuxian's cheek again when more blood pours from his nose.

"You've never done t-this for me before," Wei Wuxian mumbles, nose scrunched. Jin Zixuan sighs.

"Fuqin- Jin Guangshan was sick, too, before. Not the same thing but… you get used to stuff, I guess."

Wei Wuxian hums in response but says nothing else. The question hangs in the air, known to them both, though Jin Zixuan struggles to parse it. It's so big- too big- and difficult besides.

A-Li should be here, speaking to her brother. Jiang Wanyin should be here, ready to know the truth.

Jin Zixuan shouldn't have involved himself. He's- not quite hated but- never liked Wei Wuxian. Not as a friend, not as A-Li's younger brother, and not even as a person. He had respected him- still does, to be sure- but respect doesn't amount to much when it comes to relations with others. He respects Lan Wangji for his Cultivation, his discipline, but he does not like him and never will. Wei Wuxian is a different type of dislike, pettier and older, like scabs over an old wound.

Unlike with Lan Wangji, he thinks, given time, they could reach an understanding. More than respect and simple acknowledgment, at least.

"I met Xiao Xingchen, coming here." Is how he starts off. A simple enough statement, maybe. Wei Wuxian never did know what became of him.

"Just earlier?" He asks.

"No. While… while traveling from Lanling."

"Oh."

There's more blood, though mostly trickles. Jin Zixuan rinses the cloth again and silently cleans it away.

"You don't have a Golden Core." He says as bluntly as he can manage. Wei Wuxian still flinches, however; still looks at him, papery skin and all, as if the ground were falling out from under them. "But Wen Zhuliu never touched you, not once."

Wei Wuxian is not nearly as strong as he used to be: his new mediocrity coupled with his illness has made sure of that. Still, his fingers dig groves into the skin of Jin Zixuan's arm, and the pinch of his nails is a very real, if only mildly irritating sort of pain.

"Get to the point." Wei Wuxian grounds out.

"Baoshan Sanren is not capable to conjuring something out of nothing," Jin Zixuan says, world-weary. He doesn't pull his arm away, not even as Wei Wuxian sneers at him, tears in his eyes. "You were never going to tell him, were you?"

"You- You know no-thing! Y-You-"

There's more blood. Wen Qing and the other Jiang Physicians had warned them of this, before. Disturbances in Wei Wuxian's temperament, physical strain, and the like, could now cause him further injury.

(The knots brewing in his chest will only coagulate as time goes on, threaded to the Resentful Energy still clinging to his skin like a lifeline. His death is an eventuality, an end that creeps closer with every hour past.)

(Wei Wuxian has already survived two high fevers since coming here. He will not survive a third. )

This little bit of physical contact, even if it is from Jin Zixuan and by necessity, seems to calm him. When he sighs, he takes most of the tension from his shoulders and breathes it out.

"Don't misconstrue, Jin Zixuan. Regardless of- of what I say, there is nothing left to be done."

There are more answers in the long silence afterward. Despite his usual outward exuberance, in private spaces like these, it is very easy to see Wei Wuxian's relation to A-Li. They think along the same lines: family, togetherness, others before themselves. Jin Zixuan knows, even without his saying, that maybe, perhaps, this illness is not nearly as irreversible as they had all feared.

He also knows that even if it were true, even if his hunch were correct, Wei Wuxian would not allow them to take care of it.

"They will find out, eventually. A-Li… A-Li already knows the bare minimum- she's the one that figured it out."

"I know." Wei Wuxian says. At least, this time, he doesn't sound as defensive. As angry. When he bows his head afterward, Jin Zixuan can see where the blood had dried as it passed the curve of his ear unimpeded, the speckles of blood lining his pillow and clumped in his hair. "I do-don't trust you. You're a Jin, for one. A-and you always hurt my sister, before. But…"

There are tears, too. They fall into Wei Wuxian's open palms like drops of rainwater and collect into a small puddle of their own. Jin Zixuan, at least, has the decency to turn away from Wei Wuxian, to give him this small piece of solitude to pull himself back to rights in secret.

"I know." He chokes out. "I know they'll f-figure it o-out. I kn-ow that they'll hate me f-f-for le-aving. But- but I chose this!"

"Jin Zixuan, I-I was always g-going t-o get h-hurt, to die! Always! I… I swore an oath to p-protect m-y siblings! I- I…!"

"Wei Wuxian…" Jin Zixuan chances when he's finally run out of words. The puddle of tears in his palm glistens across the purple sheets covering his legs, and Jin Zixuan takes no pride in watching Wei Wuxian's palms shake as he continues on. "Don't you think your siblings would want to be a part of this decision?"

Wei Wuxian laughs, then. So loud, and so deep in his chest he falls into a coughing fit again.

"Sh-shijie is happy. She has her son. She has you. And Jiang Cheng… Jiang Cheng's lived without me forever."

"Those are just excuses. It'll devastate them."

Jin Zixuan isn't looking at Wei Wuxian's face, but he can hear the way he frowns just listening to him.

"I r-really don't like you. I d-don't. But-" Wei Wuxian sighs again. This time, however, he makes an effort to face Jin Zixuan himself, and holds his gaze from beneath the wiry mess that has become of his hair. "There's a r-reason you're confronting m-me instead of speaking with Shijie. I think… you un-understand why."

"I'd never do it." Jin Zixuan says. "I'd never consider it, not for anyone. But."

"Family is special." Wei Wuxian answers for him, a smile patched across his face once again. "You… You don't get why, or h-how, but it is. Even- even the ones you make for y-yourself."

"Yes." Jin Zixuan says, just as the room door opens. There's more of the conversation to be had. He doesn't have all of his answers: how Wei Wuxian did what he did, for starters, and what he plans should happen to the poor Wen's he'd sequestered away nearly to years ago, now.

But Lan Wangji is here again, tray in hand, glare more than evident. And Wei Wuxian, though he doesn't say it, is much more tired by this conversation than he lets on.

"I will speak with you again, Wei Wuxian." Jin Zixuan says, giving both he and Lan Wangji a silent bow before he leaves the room entirely.

Of course, if he had known this would be the last conversation he shared with the man, perhaps he would have stayed for longer. Lan Wangji was more frigid glares than anything, these days, and Wei Wuxian had him on a relatively tight leash as well.

But he hadn't, and even if he was more perceptive than most in terms of Wei Wuxian's mortality, well.

Wei Wuxian had lived through far worse circumstances than Jin Zixuan could ever hope to imagine and come back alive from. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that even those who present themselves as infallible are merely human, in their own way.

As it stood, Jin Zixuan quickly journeyed back to his rooms, his beloved wife and son so as to find comfort for himself. It will only be weeks afterward, sequestered within the lonely confines of his own bed chambers, when he would come to regret it.

Wei Wuxian dies in the early hours of the morning. Spring had just settled in, and the dew hadn't dried off the grass before Jin Zixuan awakes to the sounds of a sharp, strangled cry.

'Jiang Wanyin.' He thinks, scrambling awake. Jiang Wanyin, of course, had only enough time to spare his brother in the early morning: tea and conversation, as far as he knew.

Jin Zixuan's thoughts spin rapidly, recklessly inside his head.

What to do, what to do, what to do- A-Li!

When he stumbles out of bed, it is to another cry, sharper and far more familiar. A-Ling, who rather prefers to shriek in laughter, who- though normally quiet and easy to handle- now screams himself through his tears.

The bed had been empty when he'd awoken. A-Li will be in the nursery, not nearly far enough away to avoid Jiang Wanyin's-

"A-Li?" He questions, falling to his knees in front of his wife. She says nothing: not to him, and not to their child screaming in her arms. She merely stares at the wall in front of her, the tapestry he had commissioned for her as part of her dowry: lotus flowers made of pink, purple and red threads.

Slowly, slowly, he coaxes A-Ling out of her arms. A-Ling who, by the looks of him, was distressed for reasons outside of his usual frustrations, food, and other amenities.

Jin Zixuan bites into his lip, running his hand over A-Ling's back as he tries to carefully get a hold of A-Li. He doesn't make it. Not at all.

The moment her hands lose contact with A-Ling, she breaks into herself. Dry, heaving sobs that wrack through her entire body; wordless screams that bring her to her knees.

And all Jin Zixuan can do is watch her as she unravels in front of him, hands around their crying son as the sun slithers cheerily through the open balcony.

Wei Wuxian doesn't get a funeral as grandiose as Fuqin's, as widely attended. There are his siblings and nephew; a few Jiang servants, disciples, and physicians. There's also, somehow, Jin Zixuan, and Lan Wangji.

Spring is not an inauspicious time to pass away, Jin Zixuan decides. Not if one was always going to die, anyway.

For one, there is an abundance of flowers ripe for the gathering, and the warm weather is especially sweet. The only drawback, perhaps, would be the happiness of it all: spring is, after all, usually a time of new beginnings.

Yet, in a way, this can also count as a start to something… not different, but not quite the same, either.

Fuqin is newly dead, and the position of Jin-Zongzhu remains unattended. Muqin will have settled things as far as she were able, by now, and Jin Zixuan has always been his parent's only heir.

There are no guards to escort him to Carp Tower this time around, and Jiang Wanyin doesn't spare them much of an entourage. Six guards, just for his sister. They will accompany her throughout her journey home, and return her in three days' time to help settle things in Lotus Pier.

It is… far from the ending Jin Zixuan had imagined for himself when he'd first come out of the war alive and surprisingly unscathed. It is far, too, from the reality he had envisioned for his family when he had first invited Wei Wuxian to A-Ling's One Month Celebration.

But the tides of fate are ever fickle, and though those who have passed may leave their imprint, the road ahead is forged by those left behind.

"Jin-Zongzhu." A-Yao greets them, standing on the steps of Carp Tower. His smile comes in the form of deep dimples in his cheeks, and a glint in his eyes that is not quite teasing. "Welcome home."