the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break
by Rose Thorne
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with The Untamed, and make no money writing fanfiction.
Chapter Nineteen
Despite the late night, Lan Wangji wakes at mao as he has the majority of his life. He still aches in a pleasant way, a reminder of the night before. He wishes he could simply lay and savor it, but he knows he needs to check on Wei Ying.
A crease in his brow, even asleep, urges him out of bed, and he tucks the blankets around his husband before he seeks Wen Ning; if what Wen Qing said is correct, he is likely in constant pain, but he will not let it go unrelieved with an injury adding to it.
He finds him starting to prepare to cook breakfast—millet congee from their new stockpile of food, likely with some of the other provided foods available to be used as toppings. Wen Ning pauses immediately to bring him medicine he brewed in the night with the expectation it would be needed, along with a promise to direct his sister to the cave when she wakes, which Lan Wangji knows will not be long as she is also an early riser.
Wen Ning is so obviously flustered upon realization of the nature of the injury that Lan Wangji excuses himself quickly so as to let him recover. He's sure the young man would have been blushing, were he still capable of doing so.
Wei Ying has only just finished the medicine, having been reluctant to wake and requiring some gentle coaxing, when she sweeps in.
"Wei Wuxian, what the hell did you do to yourself this time?"
Lan Wangji expected Wen Qing to be angry, or at least irritated, but she is more resigned than anything, referring to it as a 'sexual misadventure,' which possibly embarrasses Wei Ying more than anger would. A musical acupuncture session helps, though he's even less thrilled with the use of needles, remaining tense through the placement of them.
Wen Qing manages to relax him, oddly enough, telling him of the sexual misadventure injuries she had treated in her time in Nightless City—apparently Wen Chao was especially susceptible.
"I refused to treat him the time he managed to fracture his penis. No way was I touching that, though if I'd used the needles just right I could have made him either impotent or incontinent. Or both, I guess."
She laments the oath of the healer in a way that makes it clear she's trying to provide levity, and she is partially successful.
Wei Ying is trying not to giggle, while Lan Wangji is actually more than a little horrified at the idea of a fractured penis.
"How does one fracture a penis?" he finally asks after she sets the last needle.
"It's less common among cutsleeves. Men don't seem to realize that the vagina is only so long. Or they slip out and thrust against the pelvis. The bone doesn't give."
She gives them both a stern look.
"Speaking of. No sexual activity for the next few days."
"Wen Qing, so cruel!" Wei Ying squawks in dismay, and Lan Wangji can feel his ears heating.
"You could easily worsen the injury with any strenuous activity," she says, unimpressed. "I'll send A-Yuan to bed with you to make sure you're not tempted. I swear, you two are insatiable—and loud about it."
She scowls at Wei Ying as she says the last bit, and he blushes fetchingly—then the look she gives Lan Wangji tells him she sees his ardor as well, and he has to concede she is not incorrect.
The musical acupuncture session eases Wei Ying's pain and relaxes him into sleep, as the other sessions have. Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji another session later should finish healing the muscle, perhaps two.
"It was a pull, not a tear. I think the resentful energy that's seeped into his muscular tissue has made him more susceptible to these sorts of injuries, so we should work to clear what we can."
Neither of them say the obvious: that the sooner Wei Ying is out of the Burial Mounds, the sooner the Seal is destroyed, the sooner they can work to completely clear out the resentful energy that has burrowed its way into his body, the better it will be for his health.
Wei Ying doesn't stir as she removes the needles, and Lan Wangji is relieved they did this on the bed, so he can simply cover him with blankets to keep him warm and let him rest instead of needing to wake him.
"You're good for him, you know," Wen Qing tells him before she leaves the cave. "He's sleeping regularly and eating well with you here."
He inclines his head and her smile tells him she sees right through him, knows he anguishes over his prior decisions that left his zhiji alone without aid, and that her words are meant to remind him better late than never. It helps a bit.
Lan Wangji settles beside Wei Ying, opting to watch him sleep over any of the other things he could be doing. He knows of Wei Ying's nightmares, and has soothed him back to sleep on some nights when he wakes with them; others, he has woken to his frantic movements in sleep, and has been able to ease them without him waking.
He can only guess that one of Wei Ying's coping mechanisms has been avoiding sleep until he is too exhausted to keep going, perhaps in the hopes he will sleep too deeply to dream then, and wonders if it was like that at Lotus Pier before he rescued these people and defected—he's certain he knows the answer, though, and that is what draws him to watch the peaceful expression on his sleeping husband's face, the way his lips are parted slightly in pure relaxation.
Before long, A-Yuan enters the cave carrying a bowl of millet congee, trailed by popo. The congee is topped with a variety of ingredients, some he's certain Wen Ning and popo added—coriander for pain relief, for instance—and has a healthy portion of chicken and mushrooms, as well as a liberal amount of the chili sauce the Jiangs left with them, if the fiery color is any indication.
"Gugu said a-die is hurt, so A-Yuan brings breakfast!" the boy says, clearly pleased with himself.
The gesture is sweet, but in a sad sort of way that implies the boy takes note of what Wei Ying eats in the way Lan Wangji does, to ensure he has what he likes and eats enough.
"A-Yuan made this one for you, Lan-gongzi," popo says, gesturing to the second bowl she is carrying.
Lan Wangji is only a little wary, but as she steps forward he sees the contents are not colored red with chili sauce as Wei Ying's are, instead seeming to contain mushrooms, sliced pickled radish, sweet mung beans, and what looks like halved eggs; either Wen Ning harvested nests overnight, or the Jiangs left salted duck eggs. He's touched that A-Yuan has remembered he prefers not to eat meat and has instead provided different protein.
"Thank you, A-Yuan," he says with a nod, gesturing to the small table next to the bed, which had been cleared for his guqin earlier. "I will wake your a-die."
The boy sets down his burden, then takes the second bowl from popo to set beside it. He comes to sit on the bed as Lan Wangji leans to murmur in Wei Ying's ear, hoping to rouse him gently.
By the time Wei Ying is awake, his robes back on properly, and seated somewhat painfully on the bed with the help of several pillows behind his back, with A-Yuan tucked against his side, popo has excused herself to attend to other matters.
Though Wei Ying's smile is strained from the pain, he still exclaims over the congee and eats every bite without requiring prompting. He seems to bask in A-Yuan's happiness that he has done well in preparing breakfast—and he did, even if he likely had help doing so. Lan Wangji makes sure to compliment the boy as well on knowing his tastes.
"A-Die married Zhan-gege," the boy says after they finish eating and Lan Wangji has set the bowls aside to take to the kitchen later.
"Mn," he confirms. "Wei Ying is my husband."
He revels in the blush that spreads across his husband's cheeks at the statement, even now after they've been intimate so many times.
"Is Zhan-gege a-niang?" A-Yuan asks.
The question is so innocent and sweet Lan Wangji can only gape, while Wei Ying starts to giggle helplessly even as it obviously pains him.
Lan Wangji is honestly at a loss, and is relieved when Wei Ying finally calms and pats A-Yuan's head gently.
"Aiya, A-Yuan, maybe you can call Lan Zhan baba or fuqin, if he's okay with it."
"Can I call you baba?" the boy asks, looking up at him seriously.
He doesn't hesitate to say yes, though he wonders if they should talk to Wen Qing so she can tell A-Yuan about his birth parents—they should not be forgotten.
"I will be your second baba," he tells A-Yuan. "Your gugu can tell you about your first baba, and your mama."
Before A-Yuan can respond to that, Wei Ying goes rigid, wincing at how the movement hurts his back, and Wen Ning practically flies into the room at the same moment.
"Someone is at the wards," Wei Ying says, his voice hard.
Lan Wangji goes cold; with the wedding going on in Lanling, and perhaps all eyes of the cultivation world focused on that, an attack is not out of the question, would even make a certain amount of sick sense.
And Wei Ying is injured…
Wen Ning takes A-Yuan, who has gone silent and still, picking up on the alarm.
"I will—will take him to popo and m-meet you," he says as he rushes from the cave.
Lan Wangji helps Wei Ying from bed and dresses him in the formal robes given by Jiang Wanyin, knowing that such a statement may be necessary.
In the end, it turns out to be unnecessary, their guests a group of Jiang disciples wearing nondescript hooded cloaks, a cart of supplies with them, and Wei Ying breaks into a smile when they lower their hoods, recognizing them as his fellows.
They greet him as 'da-shixiong,' and appear thrilled to see him, having known Wei Ying before the war, a group that had been away from Lotus Pier for various reasons when the Wen showed up, and who had fought throughout the war for Yunmeng Jiang. They're startled when Wen Ning appears, but it seems they've been forewarned enough, as none of them move to attack—Jiang Wanyin has clearly done work in the last several days. All of them exclaim excitedly when the fierce corpse picks up the cart, which is too wide for the path to the community, as though it weighs nothing, then runs off with it atop the jutting rock that surrounds the Burial Mounds as a natural barrier against the outside world.
"We brought medical supplies," one of them, a young woman, says.
She eyes Wei Ying in a way that tells Lan Wangji she's caught onto his stiffness and knows he's injured, perhaps knows his tendency to hide his hurts.
"Ah, shimei, it's nothing," Wei Ying says with a weak chuckle, but he cows under her unimpressed gaze.
She huffs at him, looking fond even as she's trying to look stern.
"I'm filling in for you as first disciple, and I expect you to start taking back duties soon—we'll share it."
Her tone implies someone has told them Wei Ying has no core, if not how he lost it. She turns to Lan Wangji and bows when Wei Ying doesn't respond, looking flustered; it's clear he also understands the implications of her tone, is unmoored by casual reference to what, only weeks ago, was his closest-held secret.
"Hanguang-Jun, this one is Min Cenxi. Thank you for caring for my ridiculous shixiong. I am here in part to measure both of you for wedding robes—though I will need to make sure his can be let out, as he needs to get to a healthier weight."
Lan Wangji returns the bow, feeling his ears heat at the mention of wedding robes—Jiang Wanyin has wasted no time, clearly. He appreciated her bluntness, and her astute and too-true observation about Wei Ying's health.
"I hope to assist my husband in his duties as first disciple, as well," he tells her.
The look she gives him is one of utter relief.
"Oh, good. I'm only da-shijie by virtue of being one of the only survivors of the massacre of Lotus Pier, by dumb luck since I was visiting family. I'm the strongest of the few of us left, and everyone else is basically a trainee, even if some of them served in the Sunshot Campaign with us."
Lan Wangji can't help but reflect that Gusu Lan was, in some ways, lucky, in that the massacre was not complete in the way the one at Lotus Pier had been. The burning and loss of knowledge still stings, but much of that knowledge still exists in the minds of the survivors, and they have many more than Yunmeng Jiang.
He gestures to the path and then takes the lead with Wei Ying, keeping the pace sedate so his injury won't be jostled.
"I'm not qualified in the least, but I'm trying," she says as she follows, the other Jiang disciples falling in line behind her. "I would be grateful for your wisdom."
"Don't sell yourself short," Wei Ying says before Lan Wangji can collect his thoughts. "You had to fill in for me before I left, and you were doing just fine."
There's a rueful undertone to his husband's voice, an unsaid apology, as he briefly acknowledges his poor coping mechanisms following the war.
"Make it up to me in the future, da-shixiong," Min Cenxi says, and it's clearly forgiveness from the way Wei Ying smiles.
They lead the Jiang disciples up the path to the community, and shortly they can hear A-Yuan crying for his a-die. Lan Wangji keeps an eye on Wei Ying as they quicken the pace. He cuts him off before he can try to take the boy into his arms and strain his injured back, lifting the child himself.
Wei Ying pouts at him, but there's gratitude behind it, and he quickly turns his attention to his—their? Lan Wangji is a baba—son, reassuring him that everything is safe and wiping away his tears.
Wen Qing nods to Lan Wangji, letting him know she'll handle the Jiang disciples and any discussion, and he nods his thanks. Min Cenxi is staring at them, at A-Yuan in particular, her face a complicated mix of emotions, but at the forefront possibly horror at a child living in this mass grave.
"A-Yuan, you get to meet my shimei today," Wei Ying says, seeming to notice as well. "She came to visit."
The boy starts to put his fingers in his mouth, but is prevented by Wei Ying chiding him. He watches Min Cenxi shyly.
"It is nice to meet Wei-xiao-gongzi," the young woman says with a bow, then pulls a qiankun pouch from her belt. "Your shushu and guma sent gifts for you."
This makes it clear Jiang Wanyin has informed at least these disciples of A-Yuan's adoption. Lan Wangji is reluctantly impressed.
A-Yuan cheers, immediately over his trepidation at a stranger, and Lan Wangji lets him down when he squirms.
The bag is filled with toys, candy, tiny Yunmeng Jiang disciple robes (clearly a message from Jiang Wanyin), smallclothes, a ribbon for his hair embroidered with lotuses, lush bedding and blankets, a little bathtub, all the toiletries and soap he might need… A-Yuan looks both thrilled and overwhelmed by what to him is likely an embarrassment of riches.
Then Min Cenxi removes three small boxes, and Wei Ying makes a choked sound when they're opened to reveal Yunmeng Jiang clarity bells.
"Jiang-guniang intended to give you yours when she visited," she says quietly. "Instead they decided to give all three at the same time."
The Jiang disciples have gathered around, smiling widely, and Lan Wangji realizes that they have just been formally welcomed into the Jiang sect, as the first disciple's husband and son.
Min Cenxi affixes Wei Ying's bell to his belt, not waiting for him to finish processing, then turns and does the same with Lan Wangji.
She smiles at A-Yuan and explains the significance of the bell to him, how he'll learn how to make the bell ring by manipulating spiritual energy when he starts to form a golden core, before presenting it to him.
Wei Ying lifts his own bell with his hand, staring at it with blank eyes, his jaw lax. With the mention of the bell being rung with spiritual energy, Lan Wangji realizes it's a reminder of what he gave up, something perhaps as difficult for his husband to look at as Suibian. He notices his gaze, and offers a wan smile, letting the bell fall from his hand to swing silently from his belt.
He would like nothing more than to hold Wei Ying, to comfort him, but they have guests who must be managed… except Wen Qing comes and takes A-Yuan, giving him a significant look to remind him, again, that his husband is his only duty.
Lan Wangji draws Wei Ying close, walks with him toward the cave. No one seems surprised by their departure. Behind them, Min Cenxi is thanking Wen Qing for her service to the Jiang sect during the war, for saving Jiang-zongzhu, and it's clear they'll be fine without them.
In the cave, away from the noise of conversation and unloading the cart, in the privacy of what is currently their home, Wei Ying sags, allowing the pain and exhaustion to show in his expression. Far too often he hides it, and Lan Wangji is relieved he is comfortable enough with him to be vulnerable, that the miscommunication that had plagued them before has not cast a lasting pall over their relationship.
For a while, he simply holds his husband, offering what comfort he can, letting him sag into the embrace as tension leaves his body. He knows his husband is exhausted, though, that the pain saps what energy he has, and so he leads him to the bed.
Wei Ying gives a token protest when he gently removes his outer robe and tucks him in, but is easily settled with sweet kisses and reminders that his health is important. Once he's cocooned in their marital blanket, Lan Wangji tends to his hair, gently unbraiding it, combing it out, and rebraiding it. Wei Ying is asleep within minutes.
Later, he hopes to take Wei Ying to the backwater pool and wash his hair with the fragrant and decadent soaps that are still in his qiankun pouch, hopes to comb it out with oil and take care of it properly, but for now he knows his ministrations are soothing, and he is happy to touch his husband's hair anytime. It's almost a disappointment to finally tie off the end of the braid and let it fall to the blanket.
Lan Wangji lifts the clarity bell from where it hangs at his waist, his thoughts a jumble, his emotions torn over the gift. The bell is typically only given to Jiang disciples, which he is not. His connection is through his husband and son, but he is still Lan. He's uncertain whether it's appropriate to wear the bell, if it would call his filial piety into question.
But he decided, upon staying in the Burial Mounds, that his loyalty, his piety, is owed to his husband above all.
He lowers the bell, dismissing his uncertainties, then retrieves a stack of Wei Ying's messy notes to organize and transcribe as he sleeps.
The world outside the cave can wait a while.
Cenxi, characters 岑希 (steep/peak/precipitous and rare/hope/strive/expect). Min, traditional character 閔 (grieve/mourn or incite/urge on), simplified 闵, is an uncommon surname slightly more common in the Hubei province that is typically mapped as being Yunmeng.
Life got away from me recently in sometimes unpleasant ways. I'm shocked to see I haven't updated this since July. I know it will likely take me time to get the next chapter out. I'm hoping by the end of the year but life has been hard recently and writing has been slow, so I can't guarantee it in that time frame. I'm participating in the WangXian Winter Solstice gift exchange, so that will delay the next chapter as well.
On the bright side, "a grain of millet drifting" is complete and no longer in the queue unless I decide to make it a series. Now it's "and sings the song without the words" and "this body yet survives," with a few one-shots for series in slow progress. And, you know, flights of fancy as they occur to me.