The world was swimming when Xue Yang woke up. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his brain, his eyes burned behind the eyelids, and he had a slight headache. His body felt heavy, limbs sore. All over he felt cold yet hot flashes still ran across his body continuously. The sheets were clammy with sweat. Pain dunked in his stump with every heartbeat. What bothered Xue Yang the most was that he could tell that his hair was greasy and disgusting and most likely a little tangled. He felt deeply uncomfortable.
With some effort Xue Yang opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of his room in the coffin house. It was daytime by the look of how the sunlight was streaming through the window. The next thing he noticed was that his tongue felt dry and rough. He had probably been fever-ridden for a while.
"Song Lan" Xue Yang called out in a weak and cracked voice.
The light hurt Xue Yang's eyes, so he covered his face with an arm. After a few moments he heard the sound of footsteps approaching before he could feel Song Lan standing in the doorway, awaiting.
"Get me water." Xue Yang said, thinking of something else. "And get me some clean sheets."
Nothing happened. That was strange. Song Lan should have obeyed him by now. Annoying.
Sometimes in drunkenness, Xue Yang had discovered that Song Lan wouldn't carry out commands if Xue Yang's speech was too slurred to be understood. Granted, his voice was strained from illness at the moment, but he thought that he had made out the words clearly enough.
Xue Yang hmmph'ed in frustration.
"Didn't you hear me?" Xue Yang said. He lowered his arm and turned his head to Song Lan. "I said-"
Startled, he saw Song Lan in the doorway. Song Lan had a hard expression on his face, his entire body rigid. His shoulders were trembling slightly in barely contained anger. This was in stark contrast to how he usually were, passive and indifferent as a dead man. Xue Yang was completely dumbfounded, Song Lan had never behaved in this way.
Xue Yang's instincts certainly told him that he was in danger, but he hadn't entirely figured out why on a cognitive level. Bewildered he scrambled his ill-riddled thoughts together to figure out what was wrong and why Song Lan didn't behave the way he used to. And then in it clicked.
The nails in Song Lan's head had been removed. Song Lan was free again.
Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. The encounter with the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun, Lanling Jin and his travel back to Yi City. Then there was Song Lan. He barely remembered encountering him on the road. It felt like a fever dream, and in some sense, he supposed it was.
Now, Song Lan was looming over him with an air of defiance.
"Shit." Xue Yang mumbled angrily.
Song Lan audibly huffed through his nose. Xue Yang could actually see how his nostrils flared. It would have been funny if his life wasn't at the other's mercy. Song Lan was leering down on him with a disgusted look, nose up in the air and everything. As if he was better than Xue Yang.
That long, difficult, and humiliating journey back to Yi City, to reach Xiao Xingchen, just to end up being executed by his former puppet. And he had been so close too. The heavens and gods just liked to shit in his dinner, Xue Yang supposed.
During the travel, Xue Yang's wounds and reopened from his exertions and they had caught an infection despite his best efforts to change the bandages and clean the wound with water from rivers. Yet halfway on the journey the infection had caught up to him anyway, and it didn't take long before the fever followed. It had gotten increasingly worse, and he was somewhat surprised that he hadn't expired on the way.
Maybe Jin Guangyao was on to something when he had called Xue Yang a cockroach.
Xue Yang remembered something else too. He lifted his left arm and sure enough, there was a stump. It was difficult getting used to that. The road hadn't left him much time to contemplating his missing part.
It didn't matter now, anyway.
"I guess you want me lucid for when you finally kill me." Xue Yang said through gritted teeth. "Well, I'm awake now, so get on with it."
Xue Yang looked up at Song Lan haughtily. Song Lan didn't move despite the constipated look on his face as he was containing his anger. Xue Yang couldn't see his hands under his sleeves, but Xue Yang bet that they were balled into tight fists.
Still, Song Lan didn't move.
Oh, Song Lan wanted to kill him, that much was clear. Yet he still just stood in the doorway like an asshole. That endlessly pissed off Xue Yang.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Do it!" Xue Yang hissed.
Song Lan still didn't move. Xue Yang growled deep in this throat. He really shouldn't let Song Lan get under his skin, but he still crept under there just by standing in the same room, looking at him. Even if he was unable to fight, to defend himself, Xue Yang still wanted to get up to get all up in Song Lan's face, to show that he wasn't scared.
Struggling, Xue Yang managed to raise his head if just barely and he moved to heave himself up into a sitting position, but a sharp pain shot through his chest, and he was forced back into the mattress. His entire body began to tremble. He told himself that it was because of anger.
"Fuck" Xue Yang wheezed out at the pain. His cheeks warmed with anger, hatred, and possibly fever.
All the while, Song Lan just stared at him with that piercing gaze, as if he could see right through Xue Yang.
He hated this. He hated the helplessness and the raw vulnerability. The feeling that his life and fate was in another's hand. He especially hated the fact that it just had to be Song Lan. Why couldn't Wei-qianbei just have finished the job if this was how Xue Yang would have ended anyway. That way he would at least have been killed off in battle by the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation himself. Now, that would have been grand.
But no, he would lie here in pools of his own fucking sweat, killed by guy, a pretentious piece of shit who believed himself better than anyone else because he grew up in a temple of morals or whatever, who thought he deserved to be the jury and executioner of others because he thought himself so much above everyone else. But Xue Yang knew he was a hypocrite, just like every lord, lady, and cultivator who talked about ethics and philosophy and shit, but ultimately were just as selfish and greedy as everyone else. They just pretended otherwise.
"Fuck. You." Xue Yang said in a low voice, looking back at Song Lan and stared him right in the eye.
Not knowing what was going to happen next was more unsettling than Xue Yang wanted to admit. Xue Yang tried to make the shaking and shivers subside and failed.
Song Lan even seemed to smirk faintly at Xue Yang's weak display. That fucker.
For what reason had Song Lan kept him alive? Song Lan had not only chosen to not cut him down on the road, but he also went through the trouble of bringing him back to the coffin house, right to his own bed.
Xue Yang gave a loud snort in amusement to which Song Lan frowned suspiciously with a down-turned lip.
"Wait, are you keeping me alive just so you can turn me in to one of the major sects?" Xue Yang laughed cruelly despite it stabbing daggers into his chest. "Because that turned out so well for you and daozhang last time."
Xue Yang could see in the way that Song Lan's eyes got harder and how his mouth tightened to a line that the remark had gotten to him, and Xue Yang gleefully counted that as a small victory. But not for long. To Xue Yang's frustration and disappointment, Song Lan almost immediately schooled his expression to a neutrally disdainful one. Otherwise, he didn't react.
"Is that it? Or is there some other reason you're keeping me around?" Xue Yang asked. He could feel himself getting even more agitated.
Song Lan gave no inclination to whether that was what he intended to do or not. He just stood there, leering down at him, and Xue Yang felt cold sweat prickle at his spine.
"Do you want to torture me before killing me off? Make me atone for my crimes, is that it, huh?" Xue yang asked. He tried to sound intimidating, but it was difficult as the breathing had become heavy and hard.
Song Lan still didn't react.
Coldness settled in Xue Yang's core. The trembling became even more uncontrollable, but he kept staring back defiantly at Song Lan. Though, Song Lan didn't seem impressed by this.
They kept staring at each other like that while Xue Yang waited in apprehension. Xue Yang could feel the tendrils of fear creeping around his throat despite his best efforts to convince himself that he absolutely wasn't afraid.
Suddenly, Song Lan just huffed and left.
"Hey, where are you going?" Xue Yang said in alarm.
Song Lan didn't stop or pause. His footsteps told Xue Yang that he was leaving the coffin house. Rather than being relieved that the immediate threat had left, Xue Yang felt himself tremble even harder and more uncontrollably, so much so that it was agitating his chest wound. Being left alone was even worse than having the dead man looming over him like a dark cloud.
Now what's going to happen?
Xue Yang was left there to wallow in anxious uncertainty, until he eventually heard Song Lan approach his room. To Xue Yang's astonishment, Song Lan had actually brought him a bucket of water and clean linens.
The items were laid on the floor before Xue Yang, and he was too dumbfounded to say anything as Song Lan briefly left the room to retrieve a cup. Song Lan lowered the cup into the bucket and got the water with one hand. With the other he reached for Xue Yang, and Xue Yang couldn't help flinching.
At this Song Lan actually smirked. He was having fun at Xue Yang's expense. Xue Yang had always known that the daozhang wasn't as virtuous as he wanted the world to believe. He was a self-righteous asshole.
The hand went behind Xue Yang's neck, and Xue Yang couldn't suppress a shiver of fear at the touch, and with surprising gentleness, Song Lan lifted his head and tipped the cup towards Xue Yang's lips. Xue Yang didn't drink and instead just looked at the cup suspiciously and then at Song Lan. In response, Song Lan quirked an eyebrow which Xue Yang could just tell communicated 'What. It's not poison if that's what you think'.
Xue Yang opted to shoot Song Lan another suspicious glance for good measure before allowing himself to drink. It wasn't before the cool water hit his tongue that he realized just how thirsty he had been, and he soon gulped it down greedily. When he was done, he took a deep breath. Without being prompted, Song Lan refilled the cup and gave him more.
It wasn't before the second cup that Xue Yang noticed that his trembling had subsided to a faint shiver here and there. Some of the tension relieved by Song Lan's odd actions.
A third cup was brought to his lips and drained, before Song Lan just as gently laid his head down on the pillow again, and Xue Yang felt just how weak he was.
The blanket was pulled from Xue Yang, and being too weak to move, he was forced to watch Song Lan as he replaced the damp sheets and linens with the clean ones. Without much choice, Xue Yang let himself be shifted around so Song Lan could reach the linens underneath him.
Soon Xue Yang found himself lying in clean, dry sheets that he would undoubtedly soon sweat through anyway.
Song Lan left the bucket and gathered up the dirty linens and made to leave, all the while Xue Yang scrutinized him. If Song Lan was bothered, he didn't show it.
"What do you want with me?" Xue Yang asked tiredly. He wanted to say that with more heat in his words, but the excitement and agitation had sapped what little strength he had, and he was left utterly exhausted.
Song Lan didn't answer, and just left with the linens.
Xue Yang really didn't want to sleep in the fierce corpse's presence, but he could feel his head fill up with cotton and his sight got blurry in that way before unconsciousness took hold.
When Xue Yang woke up again, Song Lan wasn't there. The sheets were clammy and disgusting. The air held the scent of medicinal herbs. Thankfully, the stump and chest wound weren't pounding any longer and the fever had gone down a little.
Xue Yang was semi-conscious of his surroundings. He didn't know how long he laid there before footsteps resounded through the coffin house.
Song Lan appeared in the doorway and Xue Yang became more aware and alert. Xue Yang closed his eyes and exhaled, slightly relieved at his presence.
"Thirsty" Xue Yang said quietly, and Song Lan obeyed the implicit command.
Soon, a hand went under his neck and tilted his head slightly before a cup were at his lips. Xue Yang was drinking when a sudden realization shot through him, and he immediately guffawed in a highly undignified manner and stared wide-eyed at Song Lan. The water went down his chin and soaked the hem of his robes.
That fucker Song Lan just looked amused.
Seeing as the cup was empty, Song Lan refilled the cup once again and brought it to Xue Yang. All the while Xue Yang just looked bewildered at him, until he caught himself and tried his best to scowl at him, but it seemed that any chance of having a tense and suspenseful silence had been squashed. Xue Yang wanted to know why he was here and not dead, and moreover, he really didn't want Song Lan of all people to tend to his injuries and nurse him back to health. He wanted to take the cup and throw it to the floor in an act of defiance.
Nevertheless, Xue Yang drank what he was given. He didn't know for how long he had been unconscious, and the thirst that didn't allow him to refuse the offer.
When he was finished, he asked "Why am I not dead yet?" Xue Yang narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Song Lan made no inclination to answer and refilled the cup.
This pissed Xue Yang off endlessly. The cup was brought to him again and he drank a fill. He stopped drinking and looked at Song Lan expectantly. Song Lan looked back with a raised eyebrow as if to say 'Now what?'.
This was when Xue Yang squirted water right in his face.
The expression on Song Lan's face was the funniest that Xue Yang had ever seen. His eyes widened till they were almost round, and his mouth hung open in shock.
Xue Yang burst into a fit of giggles. It didn't escape him that Song Lan began to exude quiet anger and indignation. That just made it all the funnier. The hand around the cup tensed so hard that Xue Yang was somewhat impressed that the cup didn't break.
While laughing, Xue Yang fully expected Song Lan to retaliate in some way. Perhaps smacking him across the head or simply leave like a sulking child, or maybe deciding to finally kill off Xue Yang. But none of that happened to his surprise. Song Lan just sat there.
Eventually, they both took a deep breath. Xue Yang to reign in his laughing fit and Song Lan presumably to calm down. They looked each other in the eyes again and the moment evaporated.
"Seriously, why am I here? What are you planning on doing?"
Song Lan just gave him a level look.
"Not talking huh?" Xue Yang said before thinking. He laughed quietly to himself which made Song Lan huff.
The laugh died down quickly and he looked at Song Lan with a serious expression.
"Don't I deserve to know? Shouldn't I know how and when I'm going to die, so I can make peace with it or whatever?"
Song Lan stared off into nothing with a contemplating look. After half a fen he sighed deeply as if in resignation and stood up. He briefly left the room and returned with paper, brush, and ink. He sat at the spot by Xue Yang's bedside and began to write. He held up the paper so Xue Yang could read.
"I have no plans of having you killed."
Xue Yang read the words.
Then he read the words again.
"I don't understand." Xue Yang said, once again dumbfounded.
Song Lan gave him an unimpressed look. Then he put the paper down and began to write again. He held the paper up with the added sentence.
"Are you unable to read?"
"Fuck you!" Xue Yang said angrily, his cheeks warming. "I can read. I just don't understand why."
Xue Yang waited expectantly for Song Lan to write something more, but it didn't happen. Instead, Song Lan got up and left, and didn't come back for the time being. By the sound of the footsteps, he left the coffin house to go who knows where.
In a daze, Xue Yang thought about the words that Song Lan had written. What could Song Lan possibly gain from keeping him alive? A flurry of theories flooded Xue Yang's mind. None seemed likely, other than Song Lan was lying, and he did in fact mean to have Xue Yang killed. Did he want to torture Xue Yang? Song Lan didn't strike him as the type, but then again, he hadn't known him that well, and perhaps the past couple of years had changed his mind on the matter.
Xue Yang was forced to simply wait and see.
During the days while Xue Yang recovered and his fever at times died down just to frustratingly flare up again, both he and Song Lan fell into a routine.
Everyday Song Lan would change the sheets and linens that Xue Yang had soaked through with sweat, and Xue Yang assumed that Song Lan washed the dirty ones every day too. After Xue Yang had regained consciousness, Song Lan had started feeding him simple bowls of soup that was easily digestible. Song Lan would assist Xue Yang to sit up against a wall so he could eat and ease back down into the bed when he was done. The first time that happened, Xue Yang had halfway panicked until he realized what Song Lan was during. As Xue Yang recovered and regained some of his strength, Song Lan would instead feed him plain rice and congee, and he no longer needed to lift Xue Yang's head to drink.
Most embarrassingly, Song Lan also had to help Xue Yang relieve himself into the piss pot. Mercifully, Song Lan didn't make any non-verbal remarks during these times. Perhaps it was just as embarrassing and awkward for him as it was for Xue Yang. It was during these times that Xue Yang discovered that it was difficult dressing himself with only one hand, something that Xue Yang hadn't thought about until this point. The one hand thing was going to be annoying.
Once or twice, Song Lan even had Xue Yang stripped naked so he could wash him with a wet cloth. At first Xue Yang had flinched away and tensed up as Song Lan washed him, but soon relaxed. It was nice to have all the sweat and grime be washed away.
During these days, Xue Yang was too exhausted with fever and exhaustion to do anything else other than resting in bed, and the days bled together. Xue Yang would attempt to enquire further of what was going to happen next, but Song Lan didn't take up the paper and brush again. All Xue Yang's attempts at communication were rebuffed, and Song Lan refused to as much as nod or shake his head at simple yes and no answers.
The smug bastard.
Once Xue Yang had regained enough strength, he had started to use his golden core to speed up the healing process as he had done in Lanling Jin. This time, however, the looming threat of being tossed out into the street wasn't hanging over him. As a trade-off, the only other person in several lis radius was Song Lan.
Oddly enough, it felt comfortable being cared for by Song Lan. As the fierce corpse didn't communicate in any way, it was actually easy for Xue Yang to pretend that nothing was different. It even felt like some of the times that Xue Yang would fall ill with the flu and had to be cared for by him. The only difference was that Song Lan didn't heed every request or command.
Thinking back, Xue Yang began to remember the time he had spent with the fierce corpse. He wondered whether Song Lan could remember everything, if anything at all. Xue Yang hadn't experimented on Wen Ning long enough to find out if the nails messed with the memory in any way.
Heavens, Xue Yang really hoped that Song Lan didn't remember anything. There had been some… weak moments. Xue Yang had mostly treated Song Lan like a tool or an object, so he hadn't actually cared if he had done anything private while in the other's presence.
Xue Yang remembered the way he had screamed and begged for Xiao Xingchen to wake up while Song Lan was there. How Xue Yang had debased himself by lying on the floor, pulling out his hair and weeping for lack of anything else to do.
Covering his eyes with the stump-arm, Xue Yang cringed to himself.
Then he remembered all the other embarrassing things he had done when he thought that Song Lan would never be free again. There had been times where Xue Yang had felt so miserable after failed attempts to bring daozhang back, moments where he had felt all hope had left him and that Xiao Xingchen would never come back. He had needed a shoulder to cry on, and Song Lan was the only one there.
Xue Yang groaned.
It was worse than waking up from a massive hangover and remembering what you had done the previous night and dreading finding out the stuff you had forgotten about. In this case, the 'previous night' had lasted for years.
There had even been times where Xue Yang had felt so isolated and alone in the coffin house that he had commanded Song Lan to stay in the bedroom with him with a candle burning in the corner, to keep him company until he felt asleep. He tried desperately not to think about the last couple of years, but his mind was treacherous. It constantly recalled flashes of when Xue Yang had been weak or lonely in Song Lan's presence and how he had acted on those feelings.
Xue Yang really hoped that the nails messed with the memory. He didn't know how he could live it down if it wasn't the case.
As if on cue, Song Lan appeared with plain rice. Xue Yang tried to shake the damned thoughts away, but he couldn't help the heat that crept into his neck and cheeks.
Song Lan sensed the odd mood and gave Xue Yang a puzzled look.
"Just give me the damn rice" Xue Yang grumbled.