A/N: I'm exhausted, stressed, and sorry for not getting this chapter out earlier this month. I made the mistake of taking online classes at the same time as working fulltime and finding free time has become a chore. I have no beta and haven't edited this yet. I'll do it tomorrow.

In short: no beta, no edit, I die like Wei Wuxian.

Chapter summary: In which Nie Mingjue makes a terrible discovery, Lan Xichen finally knows, Healer Devan has never had to describe how vomiting blood is not okay, ever, until now, and someone gets a message not meant for them.

10: Knowing

He staggered back, shocked and betrayed and so very mortal. Stunned, Nie Mingjue fell to his knees, leaning heavily on Baxia and pressing his free hand to his chest. He couldn't feel his golden core. He knew it was still there, but he couldn't feel it.

It should be right there pulsing and thrumming with power just below his solar plexus. But now something shielded it from his sight, from his reach, from him. How- Horrified, he lifted his dark eyes and stared into a pair of wide eyes he once trusted with his life and Clan. Eyes he would never trust ever again.

Meng Yao released a gasping breath and stumbled back, staring at Nie Mingjue, then at his own hand. He swallowed thickly, clenched his hand into a fist, turned on his heel, and fled. Watching his former most trusted advisor flee from his presence ignited a fury and bloodlust like very little else could.

How dare he?!

Nie Mingjue pushed himself to his feet, only to sway and fall back to one knee. The Wen soldiers were approaching. He had already lost some of his men here in this skirmish, too many. Wen Xu had been expecting him and his people to be here and had prepared a well thought out defense. The effectiveness shocked Nie Mingjue in the heat of battle, but now, watching Meng Yao flee, he understood.

He knew what had happened. Meng Yao. Why? When Nie Mingjue banished the youth from his Clan, he had done so as a mercy. Had he allowed Meng Yao to stay, he would have been subjected to the punishment of the Nie Clan for his act of murdering the captain of the guard. That penalty was death.

By banishing him from Qinghe and the Nie Clan, it allowed Nie Mingjue to spare Meng Yao's life. He knew the youth was one of the many illegitimate sons of Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. He had sincerely hoped Meng Yao would seek out Clan Heir Jin Zixuan. The Jin Clan Heir was more socially awkward than a wild horse in a tea shop, but he was a good and honest young man. He would at least try to help Meng Yao.

Apparently, that hadn't been where Meng Yao had fled to. It broke his heart and infuriated him almost beyond reason to see red and black robes advancing on his own position while ignoring the fleeing white and tan robes of their little spy.

Because that's what Meng Yao had become, he realized. A Wen spy. Why? Of all the Clans to flee to, why choose the Qishan Wen? Why would-

Pain lanced through Nie Mingjue, sharp and sudden and stinging ripping a startled cry from him. He may not be able to reach his golden core, sealed as it was, but he could feel this. It wasn't his golden core, but he could feel the tiny threads of this feeling yanking limply on the connection that should be there.

Cries of Nie Clansmen rushing past Nie Mingjue's kneeling form, clashing with the cultivators from the Qishan Wen became nothing but background noise. He felt like something was tugging his heart out of his chest and failing.

Xichen!

Reaching for his spiritual energy was like trying to catch the ephemeral mist. He couldn't do anything but feel his zhiji's pain lancing through him as if it were his own. Nie Mingjue was helpless to stop it or ease or try funneling spiritual power through their tenuous connection. It felt like flames and it terrified him.

Flames. Gods above. Xichen!

He could barely think through his fury at his own helplessness. So he did the next best thing. He swung Baxia with all his strength at the nearest red and black silk robes. It wasn't as strong or as effective as it should be, but he was a Nie. Sabers were heavy blades that demanded physical strength as well as spiritual strength. He could wield Baxia and cleave a head without his spiritual energy just as well.

It wasn't nearly as satisfying, but it allowed him to scream and vent.

When the burning and stabbing pain vanished as quickly as it appeared, he almost wished it hadn't. Wen Clan bodies littered the ground around him as ghosts in Nie Clan gray and green gathered up their injured and dead. He couldn't feel the bond anymore, as if it too had been sealed away with his golden core and spiritual power.

He knew patience and meditation would return his access to the latter two. But the first… That he did not know.

And that terrified him.

"When it comes time for you to become Clan Leader," his uncle said, his eyes serious and piercing, "you will know."

He had always assumed Lan Qiren meant Xichen would know because he would be told, or the circumstances would make it obvious, or even that the rites would be publicly carried out.

Oh, how wrong he'd been. He would know indeed. Is this what Qingfeng-jun felt as the leader of the Gusu Lan Clan? Is this what he felt as he wasted away his years in seclusion and solitude? Is this what he felt when Young Master Wen Chao threatened Wangji under Xichen's roof? Is this what he felt when Young Master Wen Xu laid siege to Cloud Recesses and his clansmen, turning them into puppets and fierce corpses and laying waste to all the Library Pavilion and all the Lan Clan held dear? Is this what he felt? This is what he knew?

And he did nothing?

Fury Xichen hadn't experienced since he was a child defending his injured brother surged through his veins, burning his meridians and fueling the spiritual energy swirling in his golden core. Shuoyue hummed in his grasp, vibrating in her sheath, and responding to his righteous anger.

They were far away, as far as the stars in the sky it seemed. Lans, his Clansmen, survivors, were suddenly there at the edge of his awareness, shimmering and flickering with life and emotion and existence. And he felt each and every one of them. He felt them as they pulled at him with strings he couldn't see but could feel with his mind, his soul, his golden core, and his Empathy.

Pinpricks of emotion brushed his mind, most too quick and faint to distinguish. It was like background noise, there but easily ignored. Except when one flared up with startling intensity, shining bright and brief and demanding. He felt that flare as a breath of cool air or a tiny ripple in an otherwise smooth pond. Small but drawing his attention by its very nature.

How could Qingfeng-jun have ignored this? How could he? Even now, Lan Xichen could feel his own sorrow as he tried to reach out to his clansmen and offer them his strength. But he couldn't, he was too far away. Worse. Some of the flickering stars, his kin, were guttering weakly until, finally, inevitably, one winked out.

His breath left him. They were dying. His clan, his people who have already suffered so much, who lost their homes and then their Clan Leader, were dying and Xichen couldn't reach them fast enough to stop it. He could just exist in this not-space and know that he could feel them and do absolutely nothing.

Then, one star burst in an explosion of luminous white accompanied by what he almost, almost thought was a note from a guqin. Wangj? Desperate to reach out to the brilliant star, to aid his brother, to share his spiritual energy, to do something! He reached and reached and reached until it felt like he was being stretched into oblivion.

But he touched it. It was brief, like the wispy kiss of mountain mist. But for that instant, that moment seemed to last forever. It was Wangji. He was alive. His brother was alive!

But he wasn't well. Emotion, as bright and vibrant and powerful as Wangji's always were, assailed Xichen with enough force to nearly severe their tenuous connection. No! No, he would not lose his brother. Not now. Not ever!

Straining his senses to their utmost limit, he clung to his brother's star and pushed. All around his brother, Xichen could hear flames crackling, voices screaming, and swords clashing. Fear, rage, and the fierce determination and immovable stubbornness so intrinsic to his brother's nature was a geyser in its ferocity. Another chord sang from his brother's treasured guqin vibrating Xichen's nerves and dancing through his meridians to his golden core.

Much like how Xichen imagined a spirit reacting to the Song of Inquiry.

He couldn't think on it further. The pain in his own mind and body was nearing peak intensity. Already, their connection was wavering, shattering, and slingshoting him back to his own body.

:Xichen!:

…Gala?

:Xichen! Chosen, lean on me. Let me help you! Please, Chosen, lean on me.:

…Lean?

Ah. Ah! It hurt. Everything hurt. It felt like his skin was on fire. Emotions grating on his senses, colors flashing across his eyes, spiritual energy stinging through his meridians, voices ringing in his ears, hands touching him-

:Stop! Let me!:

Silence! So miraculously silent. His head pounded and his skin tingled and his golden core was trembling erratically in his chest, pulsing Qi through his body with enough energy to rip through the delicate spiderweb of meridians. Habit took over and he closed his eyes -they'd been open?- and focused on shutting out distractions and meditating. He had to calm his Qi and slow the flow of energy before he damaged his meridians beyond repair.

It was harder than he remembered to summon the still, mountain spring in his mind. It felt sluggish and cloudy, as if the air was enshrouded in fog and the water clogged with mud and muck. Then a comforting presence settled over his sense of self and his mental haven began to clear

Gala.

Xichen breathed and envisioned the fog hovering just above the spring's smooth, undisturbed surface. He sat in the center of the pond, his robes splayed out around him, wet where they touched the water and more tattered than he remembered them being. The fog caressed his skin, soothing away the hurts and swirling in tiny eddies with his every breath.

No birds sang. No fish swam. No water trickled. No wind blew. It was eerily still. It shouldn't be still. Where were the fireflies he remembered dancing across the pond's surface? Where was the cool mountain breeze teasing his hair? Why was it so lonely?

When his breathing had finally slowed from the frantic, shallow gasping it had been, Xichen allowed his shoulders to slowly, deliberately droop. His mental world was quiet and still. Safe. His golden core hovered within his chest, just above his solar plexus, swirling with spiritual energy like a beating heart. It felt steadier than it had over the past…. How long had he been struggling with the instability? How long had it been since he'd walked in the waking world? Surely not more than a few hours.

Shaking away the thought, Xichen returned his focus to his cooling his meridians and soothing the damage he could feel in his meridians. The delicate golden threads of his meridians branched out from his core. Some of the pathways were frayed from the sudden demand for dangerously powerful energy followed by an abrupt, extreme drain.

Xichen bowed his head with a heavy sigh, and noticed something he'd missed before. The Nie Clan braid A-Jue had woven into his hair the night they swore their oaths in secrecy brushed his cheek next to a still damp tear trail and rested on his right shoulder. At the same time, he noticed the distinct lack of the familiar pressure on his forehead where the Lan Clan ribbon should rest. Instead, one end of his Lan Clan forehead ribbon looped securely around his right wrist while the other end trailed deep in the water, pulled comfortingly taught by the other wrist he remembered binding it to. Together, the braid and the bound ribbon anchored him to this place, assuring him that the world had not fallen apart quite yet.

But there were other threads anchoring him as well now. They were numerous and glittering blue-white with spiritual energy in his still, mental pond. These thin vines of mountain mist sparkled like a thousand diamonds. They rose from here he sat, weaving and twisting around each other as they rose towards the heavens. This thick trunk of vines branched out to form more wispy vines until it almost resembled a tree. Each branch of energy extended to a single star that shimmered in the dark sky above. The centermost vine, however, towered above the rest, thick and strong and rooted in Xichen's soul. It touched the lone, white star twinkling directly above his head.

Wangji.

He could feel his little brother far away. He knew Wangji was alive, though, remembering the vague impressions he felt from his fevered visions, perhaps not well. He didn't know where Wangji was or what was happening to him, but just the knowledge his didi was alive and well was enough of a comfort to ease the remaining tension he hadn't realized was still gripping his heart.

Gala nudged him with her consciousness, encouraging him to rest and breathe. Wearily, Xichen allowed himself to lean on her mental and emotional support, no matter how much her emotions stung his senses. He felt her regret, her guilt, and her worry and is comforted him even through the stung of his raw senses.

Which brought up another hurt that he had been striving to ignore since he returned to this semblance of consciousness. A hurt that should, perhaps, be more immediate. But it wasn't. it felt… It hurt, but it felt distant. Abstract almost.

Qingheng-jun was dead. His… father… was dead. Lan Xichen was now the Clan Leader of the Gusu Lan. A tear slipped unbidden down his cheek as he closed his eyes to mourn in the silence. He never truly knew his father. The former Clan Leader had shut himself away in seclusion and remained that way since as far back as Xichen could remember. Unlike his mother, whom Xichen could put a face and voice to, Qingheng-jun was nothing but a vague memory.

It felt cruel to be so detached from a loss as close and immediate as the death of a father. But, however much Lan Xichen may have loved Qingheng-jun, that love had cooled somewhat over time. After requesting to speak to, or at least see his father over his nineteen years, and facing rejection after rejection, the love Lan Xichen felt for Qingheng-jun had waned and twisted into an aching feeling of not-worthy that ate at him.

Even over the eight years since his mother's death, Qingheng-jun had never once left his seclusion. Not when Wangji sat outside their mother's home day after day, not when Xichen or Wangji got sick, not when Xichen was officially named Lan Clan Heir, and, as far as Xichen was aware, not even when Cloud Recesses burned to ashes around them.

Nothing was good enough. Nothing was worthy enough. Nothing could pierce Qingheng-jun's seclusion and rejection of anything and everything that was the world outside that seclusion. A dark, angry part of Xichen hissed and snapped a nasty comment about whether Qingheng-jun had even bothered to cultivate during his seclusion if the man had allowed resentful energy to linger and grow to the point Xichen could feel it when he passed by the building.

He still felt the loss like a knife through his ribs.

Biting back the pain and spiteful feelings, Xichen drew a deep breath, lifted his hands to his chest, and began pulling spiritual energy from the air around him to cultivate. He needed to concentrate on something other than his own feelings.

No wonder his Qi deviation had been so devastating. Now that he could think clearly, if a bit slowly, he could more accurately analyze and diagnose what had happened. Too many things had gone wrong all at once. Had he been calm and in control of himself, he likely would have been able to react properly to the sudden loss of Qingheng-jun and his own subsequent rise to the position of Clan Leader and all that position change had unexpectedly entailed.

But when combined with the strain on his spiritual power, the overextension of his Empathy, the abrupt severance of his spiritual connection from not one, but two different people in quick succession, as well as the injury he felt Nie Mingjue suffer-

Nie Minjue was injured.

A-Jue?!

Swallowing back his rising panic, Xichen shuddered and grasped at his chest with clawed fingers. Mingjue! He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Xichen could still feel the soulbond with his zhiji holding strong next to his golden core. He couldn't feel the man like he could feel his Clan right now or how he could feel those around him with his Empathy, but he knew Mingjue was alive. Injured, but alive. Xichen could work with that.

Ancestors have mercy. As soon as he returned, war or no war, Xichen was going to work on convincing Mingjue to be his sworn brother. He couldn't live with this knowing but not feeling. Once they were sworn brothers, their bond would become something even Nie Mingjue could feel. Or so the many texts in the Library Pavilion led Xichen to believe.

…used to be in the Library Pavilion…

Oh. Had he grabbed those texts before he fled? Had he missed them in his hurry to escape the smoke and flames and blood and death? Were they damaged? He hadn't bothered to take out the texts he did grab and stuffed unceremoniously into his four qiankun bags to examine the contents for damage.

He should do that once he came back to himself in the waking world. It would give him something to do to keep his hands busy and his mind from dwelling on darker thoughts. It needed to be done anyway. He could organize them by subject or author or-

The air around him stirred in a gentle breeze before feather soft fur warmed his skin. More tears slipped from his control as Gala pressed her nose against his check, then his neck, then… Xichen blinked out of his thoughts and sighed. Right. He shouldn't be distracted right now. He needed to heal, cultivate, and wake up.

He couldn't stay here. He needed to check on Dirk and Elspeth. They may not have suffered a Qi deviation like he had, but Xichen was certain they had suffered something similar. He was fairly certain the people of Valdemar did not move their Qi like martial artists and cultivators of Jianghu, but they did have a power that apparently his own Empathy originated from. Xichen knew from experience that his Empathy could give him headaches if overused. He had no doubt Elspeth and Dirk were suffering from headaches like that, if not something worse.

And Talia… Xichen did not know the woman, but she hadn't looked alive when Dirk and Elspeth Fetched her into their small tent. She had been alive, Xichen confirmed that, but she certainly hadn't looked alive. Her injuries were extensive and severe. Xichen would have been hard pressed to find a cultivator who had suffered such wounds and could recover quickly, efficiently, and completely. A regular person?

Talia needed help. Xichen was willing to offer it. He would just be more careful this time. He would help her recover. She may never recover completely. She may never wake up at all. He couldn't work on her forever, but he would try to do what he could for as long as he could. He was in no state to fly back to Jianghu right now anyway let alone use a Transport Talisman.

He needed to recover his reserves. He needed to cultivate. He needed to practice his sword and exercises. He needed to create a reserve of talismans for a day when he would be this drained again.

He should go ahead and create a Transport Talisman too while he was at it. He could fly on his sword back to Jinaghu just like how he'd arrived here. But if he did that, then Gala would be forced to run on the ground below on her own. She was almost as fast as a cultivator's sword, but she was also a living creature. She could only keep up that speed for a while before she would need to slow and eventually rest. It would be best if Xichen and Gala split the strain of returning home to Jianghu.

Which brought to mind the question: where in Jianghu should he return to? Or, perhaps more accurately, where in Jianghu could he return to? Cloud Recesses was burned which meant the Gusu territory was compromised. He could go to the Jiang Clan in Yunmeng, but the Jiang shared a longer border with Qishan than Gusu did. If the Wen were bold enough to invade Gusu and attack the Lan Clan at their heart in Cloud Recesses deep in Gusu territory, then Xichen had no doubt the Wen would be ready to do the same to the Jiang. Going to Lotus Pier would bring the Wen directly to their doorstep, if they weren't there already.

Yunmeng Jiang was off the table.

Lanling had long been allied with Qishan. Xichen doubted the Lanling Jin would openly take a stance against the Qishan Wen. In fact, Xichen wouldn't be surprised if Clan Leader Jin Guangshan chose to betray whoever- whatever Clan came to him for help and hand them over directly to Clan Leader Wen Ruohan.

Besides, Xichen did not like the way Clan Leader Jin acted around beautiful people, women especially. He did not, nor had he ever felt safe in Koi Tower. Thus, the Lanling Jin were not an option either.

Of the Five Major Clans, that left the Qinghe Nie. The aching desire to see Nie Mingjue tugged at his heart. It really had been a long time since they'd seen each other. Xichen wasn't above admitting he missed his zhiji. Even before their soulbond was discovered, the man knew Xichen like few ever could, Wangji aside. Mingjue would offer him a safe haven without question. It had been where Lan Xichen had originally been heading before ending up in Valdemar.

But it would also draw the Qishan Wen's attention to Qinghe. Of all the territory capitols, the Unclean Ream of Qinghe was the closest to Wen territory. Then again, Qinghe and Qishan had been enduring a cold war of sorts since Nie Mingjue's father had been assassinated.

Because it was assassination. Lan Xichen knew it. Lan Wangji knew it. Xichen suspected the Yunmeng Jiang knew it despite holding their opinions behind tightly sealed lips since the event. Only the Lanling Jin dared to openly speak of it. And when they did, it was to call it a Qi deviation.

Which wasn't exactly incorrect either. Former Clan Leader Nie did die from a Qi deviation. But he only started suffering from Qi deviations after Wen Ruohan shattered his saber.

Xichen shuddered and reached for the pommel of Shuoyue. He could only imagine the soul-shattering consequences of surviving long enough to witness his spirit sword broken into pieces. It would break him. The Nie sabers were just as spiritually cognizant as spirit swords, and much more opinionated than their sword counterparts.

It was an assassination.

:Your politics are truly vicious.:

Xichen chuckled grimly. It is all I have ever known. The politics of Valdemar are so… tame in comparison. I pray they remain so.

Gala nuzzled him and he saw himself through her mind's eye. Her strong white body lay in his pond, wrapped around him protectively, her neck curving around his chest so her forehead could press against his cheek.

She shared his heartbreak, his pain, and his soul-deep longing to go to his Clan, go to his brother, go home. He could excuse his absence before now. He was just the Clan Heir keeping his clan's relics and ancient texts safe from enemy hands and eyes. But now he was the Lan Clan Leader and his place is and always would be with his clan. He had to leave.

:We will, Chosen,: Gala whispered, almost too softly to hear. :We will. But for now, rest. Heal. When you have recovered, we will go.:

…together?

Gala tilted her head, pulling him backwards so he no longer sat in the rigid, upright lotus pose. She pulled until he was leaning against her flank, surrounded by her white, living warmth. He was wrong before. This was safe. This, wrapped as securely as a well-loved blanket, was safe. Gala held him. She would watch so he could… rest.

"How is he?"

Healer Devan sat back and ran a hand through his hair in relief. "Better," he assured the young princess.

To be quite honest, Healer Devan wasn't exactly sure what was ailing his foreign patient. Herald Trainee Lan Xichen's Companion Gala had filled him in as best she could. But he had never heard of a Qi deviation. It acted like a MindMagic Gift backlash on the channels that moved the energy used for MindMagic. It also responded to Devan's treatment in a similar fashion as Gift backlash. That was a relief.

However, the channels Healer Devan treated for backlash damage in Lan Xichen were most definitely not the same as the Gift channels he was used to seeing in Heralds and Healers. Those channels were fairly well-defined mental pathways with each channel indicative of a particular Gift.

Lan Xichen did have those channels too. His Empathy Gift channel was large and flowed with energy readily. It wasn't as large of a channel as Herald Talia's Empathy, but it was certainly larger than any other Empathy Gift channel he'd seen.

There was also a respectably sized channel open and flowing with energy that Healer Devan could not remember ever seeing in a Herald before. It had been Gala who informed him that the Gift that channeled energy to was the Gift of Tongues. Truly fascinating.

There was also a small channel for Mindspeech that had energy flowing through it, but not much. Devan would wager the only person Lan Xichen would ever be able to Mindpseak to was his own Companion. Maybe, if he pushed himself hard, he could Mindspeak to someone else. But Devan didn't think that would be easily done or be without consequences.

Other than that, Lan Xichen had no active channels. None for his Heraldic Gifts, anyway. That fine network of pathways threading throughout his body like blood vessels was entirely new and something Healer Devan badly wanted to study further. He could sense the energy moving through Lan Xichen's vast network of pathways, but it wasn't the same energy as Heraldic Gift channel energy.

Or… No. It definitely wasn't the same. But it did feel similar. Similar like how fire heat and sunlight were both forms of heat, but not the same heat. Devan shook his head and pressed his fingers to his temples.

On the bright side, Lan Xichen was not physically injured. His Gift channels were raw from backlash much as Princess Elspeth and Herald Dirk's had been. But he couldn't examine Lan Xichen's pathways as well as he could examine Heraldic channels.

Not yet.

He was a Healer. And if there was one thing Healers and Heralds all had in common, it was the incessant need to poke something new until it revealed its secrets. Heralds tended to poke the more explosive problems, figuratively and literally. While Healers poked at the more medical problems.

New patient with symptoms of a new illness? Pokes. New wound from whatever nonsense a Herald got themselves stuck in after poking an explosive problem? Pokes. New Gifts that haven't been seen in a long time like the Gift of Tongues? Pokes. New energy pathways that can act alongside but separate from Heraldic Gift channels? Pokes!

Unfortunately, Lan Xichen wasn't Healer Devan's only patient.

Sitting back, wincing at the ache in his back from holding his slouched position for so long, Healer Devan reluctantly stood, nodded respectfully to Gala who lay still by her sleeping Herald, and made his way out of the tent in the courtyard and back into the fortress.

It was a brisk walk to the room where Herald Talia was resting. He pushed open the door and looked into the quiet room where Herald Talia slept on in a death-like sleep.

Between Devan and the rest of the Healers now stationed in the border fortress near Queen Selenay's camp rather than the tents, they'd managed to remove the remains of the argonel from Talia's system. He hated himself for even thinking it, but… Honestly, had Talia not been as gravely injured as she was, then the dose of argonel she took would have killed her very quickly. As it was, the injuries left by whatever monster or monsters had tortured her had actually saved her life. Talia's own body had utilized the majority of the argonel to ease her pain. The argonel left over in her system after that was still deadly, but not too much for a group of driven Healers to remove.

It had taken time. Days. But she was no longer at death's door. Her injuries were still grave, but no longer life-threatening. She was no longer under the influence of argonel or any Healer-made medical sleep.

She just wouldn't wake, and no one knew why or how to wake her.

Thank the gods Herald Dirk was finally awake and sane. The backlash he suffered from the overuse of his Gift was the worst case Healer Devan had ever seen. The worst case he'd ever read about. In fact, it was the worst case any Healer in the fortress had ever seen or heard of.

From a living Herald, that is.

The fact Dirk was alive at all was a miracle. The fact he was sane, thinking, and talking as coherently as he was after that blessed mess he'd gotten himself in was a godsdamned miracle. And Healer Devan thanked the Havens for it every single day.

Lan Xichen was physically uninjured and well on his way to recovery. Gala was fairly certain he could wake up today if he wanted to. But Talia would not wake up today. Nor would she wake up tomorrow. In fact, unless Devan was way off in his understanding of the situation, Talia would never wake up unless she was called by someone she had a strong emotional and Empathic bond to.

Get well Dirk. Get well and come get your girl! A lifebond was the only thing left to try and possibly the only bond strong enough to reach Talia.

Even Rolan, Talia's Companion, had tried to call to her. Devan wanted to believe Rolan failed simply because the Companion had been in such a bad way when he'd arrived in Valdemar after racing here from the capitol of Hardorn. Emaciated, exhausted, depressed, and bearing a grave message from Herald Talia in the form of the Queen's Arrow Code: Herald Chris was dead and Herald Talia was captured with no hope of rescue.

Watching the hope ignite in Rolan's clear blue eyes when Queen Selenay informed him that, not only was Herald Talia safe, she was actually here in her camp… Devan shook his head. He'd seen that look in the faces of family members who'd been so certain their loved one had died, only to find out that wasn't the case. It had taken a royal command from Queen Selenay to rest to keep Rolan away from his Chosen.

Yet, even recovered, Rolan hadn't been able to pull Talia from her comatose state. Rolan doubted he would be able to do so alone. Both Rolan and Devan suspected Talia's lifebond with Dirk was the only bond strong enough to work. Ah, true love. Romantic. Just, he glanced in the direct of Dirk's darkened room, inconvenient. Dirk may be awake now, but he was in no shape to get up and none of the other Healers would tell him anything.

Devan secretly hoped that the lack of information on Talia as well as their very pointed avoidance of talking about her would drive Dirk to get up and look for himself. As far as Devan knew, that might be the only way to force Dirk to acknowledge the lifebond's existence. Damn stubborn Heralds and damn stubborn Dirk.

Devan was still grumbling to himself and sorting out the next dose of medicinal herbs when a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Lifting his gaze from his desk, he was pleasantly surprised to see Lan Xichen standing in the doorway to the courtyard. His Companion was right behind him, her bright blue eyes sparkling with joy Devan could feel.

Still.

"You really shouldn't be up and about yet," Devan said, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. He offered his patient a tired smile. "Although I am glad you're awake. You had us worried."

The look Lan Xichen gave him was quiet and contemplative, and unexpectedly shy. There was a flush in his cheeks that spoke of more than just health and he seemed to be forcing himself to look Devan directly in the eye. It would have been adorable had it been almost any other situation. However, considering Lan Xichen was a recovering patient-

"How are you feeling?" Devan asked, narrowing his eyes at his patient's face and watching the man's every move for any signs of a fever.

Lan Xichen carefully did not shuffle from foot to foot even though he very much looked like he wanted to. His hands twitched, one clutching his ornate sword close while the other toyed with the flaps of his white shirt, tugging them closed to cover what little of his chest was visible. He'd put his shoes on before trudging across the rain-wet grass of the courtyard and herb garden to get to this little room. His long black hair hung loose down his back with the sole exception of his odd blue ribbon and those four little pouched hanging from Lan Xichen's waist that Gala had refused to let anyone touch.

He did wonder what that was. But it wasn't important then and it wasn't important now.

Instead, Devan crossed his arms and considered the silent man in front of him carefully. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite come up with the words to say. The Companion nudged her Herald Trainee gently in the shoulder and Lan Xichen sighed, his shoulders drooping as if in defeat.

"Where are my clothes?" Lan Xichen asked, sounding very much like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

Well, that certainly hadn't been what Devan had been expecting. "Um. They're still being washed at the moment," he said. "We're not sure what type of fabric they're made of so their taking as much care as they can to keep from damaging it."

The flush in Lan Xichen's cheeks darkened. "I can clean them myself."

Devan blinked. Now that almost sounded like a whine. A very dignified, polite whine.

"Please, can I have them back?" Lan Xichen asked again, his hand wringing the white fabric of his shirt nervously. "This is very…" His blush darkened and bright amber eyes flickered away.

Oh! Oh dear.

Devan glanced at the Companion still standing in the doorway behind her Chosen and grimaced. "Are you…" He pursed his lips and considered his next words carefully. "I'm guessing you're used to wearing more clothes."

The blush was nearly rosy at this point.

"I…" Lan Xichen hesitated, tilting his head slightly to the side as if listening to his Companion's mental whispers. Then he sighed, straightening his shoulders, and met Devan gaze directly. "In my culture, I would be considered very… inappropriately dressed." He swallowed and smiled. It was a perfect smile and, considering how much emotion was no longer visible, an excellent mask tailored to the twists and turns of court. "What may be acceptable attire in your culture is considered underdressed in mine. I would like my robes back. Or something else to wear in the interim so that I am not…" The mask slipped briefly.

Havens have mercy.

Devan stood and offered Lan Xichen a smile. "Of course," he said quickly. "Why don't you come inside and I'll be right back with some clothes. I'll ask after your robes too, don't worry."

"Thank you," Lan Xichen said, smiling gratefully. He stepped fully inside the small room, leaving the door open so his Companion could stick her head in. "Also, do you have a place where I can… if I need to, I mean… ah, cough?"

"Cough?" Devan hesitated, frowning in confusion. Lan Xichen could cough in his sleeve if he wanted to. Why would- He noted the faint paleness in his patient's face and understood. "Oh!"

He darted over to grab a nearby pan. He'd been using it to toss out old herbs that were no longer of use until he could properly dispose of them. But it would serve to catch vomit as well as anything else. He pushed it into Lan Xichen's hands.

"Use this if you need to," he said. "Try not to spill any. If you do throw up, I want to check it to be sure it doesn't look like you ate something that disagrees with you. Understood?"

Lan Xichen took the offered pan and nodded, his odd amber eyes wide and friendly. He took one quick glance at the Companion before stepping out of the room and hurrying down the hall to the washroom. It was easy to spot Lan Xichen's clothes. The startling blue helped them stand out amidst a sea of white. And just below the blue robe was the sheer, white robe and belt. Scooping them up into his arms, he quickly made his way back to his little room.

When Devan nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, it was to find Lan Xichen on his knees coughing over the pan. The Companion had her head resting on Lan Xichen's shoulder in a comforting manner as the young Herald Trainee coughed up a glob of dark red.

Blood?!

Devan immediately dropped the clothes and raced to Lan Xichen's side, holding back his hair to keep it out of his face and the bloody vomit. Because the closer Devan looked, the more he realized that it really was blood. There was nothing else he expected to see in vomit such as bile and the like. Just blood, some bright red and runny, but most of it dark and clumped together in the glob his patient had just coughed up.

Damn. This was worse than Devan expected. He couldn't remember feeling any damage in Lan Xichen's lungs or esophagus. Had he missed something? Pressing a hand to his patient's back, he used his Healing Gift to feel for any damage, injury, or illness. Oddly enough, he couldn't find anything. As far as he could tell, Lan Xichen was in perfect health, if physically exhausted.

When he was done coughing up his own lungs, Lan Xichen slumped and gasped. Carefully, he set the pan down on the floor and reached up to wipe his mouth with his hand.

"Don't!" Devan said, grasping Lan Xichen's hand just short of touching his face. "Use this."

Devan reached up to his workbench and grabbed one of the clean cloths he kept on hand for making poultices. He pressed it to his patient's mouth, wiping away the blood still dribbling from Lan Xichen's lips.

"Now," he said once his patient's breathing had evened out and his shoulders were no longer shaking and drooping, "I need you to answer me honestly. Did you eat anything since you woke? Drink anything? Anything at all?"

Lan Xichen shook his head and sat up fully, offering Devan a wan smile. "It is fine. I was expecting it."

Devan blinked. "You were expecting to cough up a blood clot?!"

Lan Xichen hesitated at Devan's tone, giving him an odd look. After a moment, his amber eyes widened and he sat back, murmuring something under his breath in a language Devan didn't recognize. Then louder, he said, "I apologize. I forgot myself."

Placing both of his hands on his lap and shifting so he knelt facing Devan directly. "I truly am much better. I did not mean to frighten you. Truly, nothing is wrong with me now."

"You coughed up blood," Devan argued, gesturing to the evidence still in the pan on the floor.

"Yes, I did," Lan Xichen agreed, a slight flush to his face. "It happens."

He could not be hearing this right. "It… happens," Devan repeated in a flat tone.

The Companion whickered in what Devan swore of a horsey laugh and, based on the deepening blush in Lan Xichen's cheeks, guessed correctly that she was laughing at her Chosen.

"Ah, hm. I supposed it isn't common for Heralds to experience such things?" Lan Xichen asked.

Devan couldn't believe this. "Quite frankly? No. Not unless it's due to an illness or ailment of some kind,"

This time, Lan Xichen looked surprised. "Truly? Using your Gifts to such an extent as we did… It does not cause such side effects?"

Oh. Fascinating. Devan leaned back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not that I know of, no," he said slowly. "The usual side effect of overuse or overextension of a Gift is an extreme migraine, nausea, and exhaustion. Not vomiting up blood clots."

"Oh."

Interestingly enough, Lan Xichen appeared genuinely surprised. Which wasn't exactly the best news of the day.

"Are you saying vomiting up blood clots is a common side effect of your other, non-Heraldic Gifts?" Devan asked.

Lan Xichen nodded to which Devan sighed and rubbed his head. "Well, I suppose that's good to know for the future."

His patient smiled apologetically. "I would have mentioned it if I'd known it would catch you by surprise. I thought…"

Devan waved his hand. "No, it's fine. I understand why you didn't think to mention it directly. Although, thank you for asking for…" he gestured to the pan on the floor. "That's a lot easier to clean up than the floor."

That pulled a smile from his patient which was always a good thing.

"Are you Healer Devan?" his patient asked.

"I am, yes," he replied, nodding.

Lan Xichen straightened his back immediately and smiled in relief. "Gala told me about all you've done to help me recover from my Qi deviation." Devan watched as his patient lifted his arms in front of him, pressing his hands together to form a circle, and bowed. "You have my thanks."

Flustered, Devan placed a hand on his patient's shoulder and pushed him back up. "Please don't bow to me. It wasn't anything I wouldn't do for anyone else. And, to be honest, you were the easiest patient out of the lot of you. It really was no trouble. Although," he added thoughtfully, "I would love to learn more about this Qi deviation. I've never heard of such a thing before. What is it exactly?"

Lan Xichen sat back and tilted his head in consideration. "Qi is the inner energy we move through our meridians-"

"Meridians," Devan interrupted. "Is that what you call that vast network of channels throughout your body?"

Lan Xichen's smile widened as he nodded. "It is, yes. We channel our Qi through our meridians for many reasons such as our martial arts, healing, meditation, among other things. A Qi deviation is when something happens to disrupt the normal, safe flow of Qi through our meridians causing it to, well, deviate. It can be minor, such as what happened to me-"

"That was minor?" Devan gasped.

"It was, yes," Lan Xichen replied, looking somewhat sheepish. "I haven't suffered any permanent damage. No memory loss, eyesight loss, or loss of my martial arts. I just had a breakdown, I suppose. Under normal circumstances, I likely could have handled everything had they happened one or two at a time. But all of that, all at once, in the compromised state I was in…" His lips pressed together in a thin line. "I was… vulnerable."

Before Devan could press for more details, Lan Xichen spoke up once more. "How are the others? Princess Elspeth, Herald Dirk, and the Herald Talia?"

And there we return to work. "Princess Elspeth is doing much better," Devan began. "She actually came to visit you earlier before you woke up. She's still tired and needs to rest more than usual, but she's recovering quite well. Dirk is awake and sane. Last I checked, his migraine was mostly gone. He just has a lingering headache which is easily managed with medication."

Some of the tension in Lan Xichen's shoulders eased at the news.

"It's Talia we're worried about," Devan admitted, picked up the bloodied pan and getting back to his feet. Lan Xichen hurried to follow. "She's alive and we've done what we can for her injuries for now. We have to be careful about how often and how long our healing sessions are. Our Healing draws on the body's own energy to increase the speed and efficiency of its own natural healing. Given her state, we don't dare use too much of her energy. We don't know how far we can push before we lose her."

"She hasn't woken then," Lan Xichen sighed.

"No," Devan said, shaking his head and setting the pan aside to wash. "She hasn't. She's been largely unresponsive since she arrived. She's alive, she's breathing. She simply won't wake up. And we don't know why," he added with an aggrieved sigh, shoulders slumping in exhausted worry.

Lan Xichen winced and dropped his gaze. His eyes settled on the pile of clothes lying on the floor where they fell when Devan came back. Crouching, he picked them up and draped them over his Companion's neck. She didn't seem bothered by his actions, whickering and nipping his hand gently as if in jest.

"Perhaps…"

Devan paused halfway down into his chair to look back at his patient currently tightening the sheer, white underrobe in place. After a moment, Devan slowly eased himself down to into his seat and waited for his patient to continue.

"Princess Elspeth," Lan Xichen said carefully, avoiding Devan's eyes as he spoke, "where can I find her?"

Devan hummed thoughtfully. "Probably sitting in on the war meetings with her mother," he said finally. "Either that or in the practice fields doing some light practice." He grimaced. "I'll hear it soon enough if she's pushing herself too hard. f you plan on joining the princess of the practice fields, then you take it easy as well. I don't want or need another patient if I can help it."

His patient was quiet as he pulled on his blue over robe and tied it in place with his belt. With a flick of his wrist, a long, silvery woodwind instrument appeared in his hand. The abruptness of it startled Devan out of him thoughts. He had to once again go over everything he remembered examining about this patient and he definitely did not remember detecting any Fetching Gift. Was this what Elspeth meant about Lan Xichen had a habit of pulling musical instruments from mid-air?

Then his patient reached out and retied those four little bags to his belt, took up his sword, and prepared to leave.

"By the way," Devan called, waiting for Lan Xichen to pause and turn back to him," how did you know she'd been poisoned with argonel?"

Lan Xichen hesitated. "Herald Chris told me," he said softly.

Amber eyes flickered to Devan, glittering softly in the sunlight above a quiet smile. Then his patient strode away, one hand holding his sword close to his side while the other held his flute. The Companion trotted close by his side, her nose occasionally bumping his shoulder. Devan shook his head and went back to work.

It wasn't but a few minutes later when Dirk finally opened the door to his little room and asked after Talia. Devan sang praises to the Havens. If Dirk was finally ready to admit he not only had a lifebond, but that it bound him irrevocably to Talia, then they might actually have a chance of seeing Talia wake.

He was so focused on trying to subtly convince Dirk to try his hand at calling Talia, that he missed the tiny shimmer of a golden butterfly fluttering by his window and off into the cloudy sky.

She was pushing it. She had already tipped her hand a bit too soon. She might have gotten away with it had Wei Wuxian been more careful and not stared at her so fixedly. Then again. She wasn't free of blame herself either. She should have at least tried to be more subtle. But she hadn't and she would pay for it.

Worse. Her little brother might pay for it.

She stumbled when a cultivator pushed her hard from behind, driving her towards the ropes dangling from the cave cliff. Wen Chao was in a rush to escape the Xuanwu, without a single care for the cultivators struggling, fighting, and dying behind them.

She wanted so badly to help them. But if she did, then her brother's life, already tenuously dangling from Clan Leader Wen Ruohan's string, would be lost. So she took hold of the rope in front of her and dragged herself up the cave wall. Torchlight flickered around her casting uncertain shadows on the walls and the red and black robes of her fellow Wens.

Swallowing at the sound of another pained, terrified scream from below, she risked a quick glance back over her shoulder. Perhaps that was the only reason she noticed the tiny, fluttering butterfly dancing along the stones towards the cultivators left behind.

She wasn't particularly religious. But in that one, brief moment, she sent up a quiet prayer to Guanyin that that tiny butterfly messenger reached its recipient. And that said recipient survived and escaped this underground grave.

His lungs burned and his silk robes were heavy in the dark, murky cave water. Lan Wangji was right though. There was an opening. It was deep down near the bottom of the cavern lake. The sun was low in the sky outside so the light filtering through the opening and into the water was dim. If they wanted to find the hole and get out of this deathtrap that bastard Wen Chao dumped them and left them in, then they would need to go now.

He was a Jiang. He'd spent his entire life growing up at Lotus Pier, swimming, fishing, and hunting in the lakes and rivers of Yunmeng. He could hold his breath for a respectably long time for a Jiang. For a cultivator from another Clan? He winced. He would need to guide them down to the hole.

Hopefully, it wouldn't take as long to get there and swim out now that he knew where the hole was. Once he'd guided the first group of cultivators down, he'd swim back up to the surface to get his brother. Because there was absolutely no way he was leaving Wei Wuxian behind. If he had to grab his brother by the collar and toss him into the water himself-

Hell. If he had to toss Lan Wangji into the water on top of Wei Wuxian to make sure his brother same out of here safely, he would do it.

Then he broke the water's surface. He had to catch himself at the last moment to keep from gasping loudly and drawing the attention of the Xuanwu monstrosity. It wasn't easy making his way out of the water and across the dirt and stone ground to his brother and the other injured and frightened cultivators. His silken robes, sodden and heavy from the water, weighed him down and slowed his movements just enough to be frustrating. He secretly thanked his mother for forcing her children to learn to swim fast, deep, and effectively fully clothed.

He didn't even notice the dim glow of a messenger butterfly near fluttering near the ground until a tingle of startlingly cool spiritual energy zinged through his accompanied by an unexpected yet familiar voice.

:Wangji…:

Lan Xichen?!

:I'm sorry. I can't come back yet. …too far… I'm trying… But… something's not right. My Qi… it burns… didi…:

Startled, Jiang Cheng stiffened. Instinctively, he froze and blinked into the dim light from the guttering torches on the cavern floor near the water's edge. Lan Xichen?! Why would he send a message to Jiang Cheng?

He didn't though, did he? That message had clearly been for Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng swallowed back his guilt and scanned the cave and dark waters for the Xuanwu. From his perspective half hidden in the shadows behind a large boulder in the water, Jiang Cheng could see one torch still burning in the dark. Large eyes and long, curved, vicious fangs gleamed in the dim firelight revealing the Xuanwu's serpentine head and neck.

Someone must have tossed the torch there to distract the monster from Jiang Cheng. It may night have particularly good sight, but firelight seemed to be an effective distraction.

Until the monster sprayed gunk and who-knows-what-else liquid at the torch, drowning the fire and allowing the darkness to swallow the cavern once more. The three guttering torches left on the ground were the only other sources of light Jiang Cheng could see. Just enough for him to make out the forms of his brother, Lan Wangji in his beacon-pure white robes, and the other cultivators clustered behind a stone wall well out of the Xuanwu's reach.

For now, anyway.

With any luck, whatever was keeping the Xuanwu from moving far from its position in the water would keep working.

Jiang Cheng rubbed the water from his face and staggered awkwardly out of the water and over to his brother, using the sound of the Xuanwu's liquid spit to cover the sound of his footsteps. Wei Wuxian grabbed him and pulled him back behind the stone wall and Jiang Cheng used the opportunity to catch his breath.

"There's a hole near the bottom of the lake," he whispered just loud enough for cultivators to hear. "The sun's setting so the light's uncertain. We need to go now if we want to make it to and out of here before nightfall."

Wei Wuxian grimaced but nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "Lead the first group," his brother commanded. "I'll distract it and follow last."

Exactly like Jiang Cheng knew he would. So he nodded and turned to the others. Unfortunately, the first face he saw was that peacock Jin Zixuan. It was a valiant effort not to roll his eyes on principle. He was proud to admit he resisted the urge and instead relayed the plan as quickly and succinctly as possible. There would be plenty of time to jerk the peacock around after they survived this debacle. Surprisingly, Jin Zixuan could not only follow the orders without question, but chose to guide the others into the water after Jiang Cheng rather than jump in first.

It seemed their luck wouldn't be looking up quite yet though. The Xuanwu noticed the first group of cultivators breaking cover and screamed, lashing out at them. Two fell before Wei Wuxian, like the brave, idiotic, and worrisome big brother he was, cast a fire Talisman at it. The flames burst forth in brilliant orange-yellow light, effectively blinding the monster.

Jiang Cheng used the opportunity to dive down under the water's surface and lead the swimming cultivators to the opening. Satisfied they would allow follow the leader in the correct direction, Jiang Cheng swam back to the surface and sloshed to shore.

"Wei Wuxian!" he called loudly enough to be heard of the Xuanwu's roars. "Come on!"

His brother, damn him, looked right at Jiang Cheng and hollered, "Go on! I'll follow!"

No. He was not going to leave his brother behind. Over his dead body!

"Wei Wuxian!" he shouted, picking up his water-heavy feet and hurrying towards his brother.

A flash of white silk, shining bright in the cavern's darkness, swept between Jiang Cheng and his brother. "Don't worry," Lan Wangji said, his face as serious as always. Except for the spark of something that could almost be confused for determination flaring in his golden eyes. "I'll stay with him."

He hated this. He hated it.

But he trusted his brother and he trusted Lan Wangji to fight like a beast sword or not if need be. Still.

"Wei Wuxian!" he shouted over Lan Wangji's shoulder. "You'd better come out of here alive after us or so help me I'll…" He swallowed against the very real threat of never seeing his brother alive again. "I'll drag you back here and kill you myself," he finished weakly.

His brother's favorite red ribbon flashed in the light of the flickering flames revealed a sly grin and stressed silver eyes. There was just enough fear there that Jiang Cheng couldn't fight the urge to dash forward to join his brother anyway. They were the Twin Prides of Lotus Pier. They couldn't be separated. Not now, not ever!

Jiang Cheng was the Clan Heir of the Yunmeng Jiang. He was a cultivator and thus stronger than the average person. But wet silk was heavy and hampered movement, especially outside of the water. Thus he couldn't move fast enough to dodge Jin Zixuan's reaching arm that flashed into his peripheral vision, grabbed his sleeve, and yanked hard enough to knock him off his feet and back into the cold, dark water.

"He said he'd follow, Jiang Cheng," Jin Zixuan said urgently. "Trust him. We can't leave the others alone. What if Wen Chao and his men are out there waiting to attack them? We still don't have our swords."

Sandu.

The reminder of the loss of his spirit sword made his chest ache with longing as his golden core and soul called out for what was his and what belonged by his side always. He trusted Wei Wuxian. He trusted Lan Wangji.

But first, "Lan Wangji! Your brother's alive! Lan Xichen's alive."

Golden eyes whipped around, round and bright with shock, fear, and hope. More emotion than Jiang Cheng could ever remember seeing in the Second Jade of Lan. With one last, reluctant look over his shoulder, Jiang Cheng drew a deep breath and allowed Jin Zixuan to pull him underwater.

He wouldn't see his brother again for three agonizing days. He wouldn't sleep during that time either, too afraid of missing his brother surface in the lake outside. Alive or dead.

How?! How did he know?! Lan Wangji could barely breathe past the tumultuous thoughts whirling in his mind. How did Jiang Cheng know xiongzhang was alive? How-

The Xuanwu shrieked and Lan Wangji dismissed his shock in favor of focusing back on Wei Ying. The Xuanwu snapped out, trying to attack Wei Ying through the wall of Talismanic fire. One strike came too close for comfort and he couldn't think about his missing xiongzhang any longer. Not if he wanted Wei Ying to live.

He moved with all the speed his injured leg would allow, grasping Wei Ying's shoulder and tossing him back just as sharp fangs slashed through the space he'd been standing an instant before. The Xuanwu tossed its head in fury, roaring out its frustration at having its dinner thrown out of its reach as the rest of its captives escaped under the water.

It couldn't give chase, thank Guanyin, and Lan Wangji wasn't going to question its disability. Not as long as it worked to his advantage. Once they were out of here and getting the medical attention he knew Wei Ying needed, he could think on the curiosity. Until then, he needed to dodge!

Too slow.

It was with sickening clarity that he knew he wouldn't escape this without injury. Then fangs as sharp as a spirit sword slashed at his already injured leg. He barely managed to land on his feet, biting back the cry of pain. He staggered in place, staring up at the enormous Xuanwu looming above fire and water.

Then something changed. He didn't know what it was. But something deep inside his soul shifted and he knew his father had died. He couldn't explain it, nor could he understand it, but the absolute finality of the knowledge wasn't something he could deny. His father was dead and Lan Xichen was alive but missing and he was trapped here with Wei Ying and-

Cool spiritual energy that could not possibly be here flowed into him through his golden core from… somewhere. It wasn't for more than a moment. But for that one moment, he felt like his xiongzhang was here pressing a hand against his back and flooding Lan Wangji with his spiritual energy. It surged through Lan Wangji, boosting his own spiritual power, soothing away the sharp pain in his leg to a dull thrum, reinforcing his strength and determination, and bolstering his courage.

It lasted long enough for him to stand firm and dodge the Xuanwu's next attack without wincing or flinching. Then it was gone, leaving him staggering. His father was dead, but xiongzhang was alive and… while he wasn't here, he was here.

Warm, living, solid hands grasped his shoulders from behind and yanked him behind the cavern wall and through an opening too small for the Xuanwu to breach. Wei Ying was here. Lan Wangji wasn't alone. He would survive this. Wei Ying would survive this. They would live.

They had to.