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 Five
The trip to town is blessedly uneventful. Wen Qing sends one of the older aunties, who had introduced herself as Meilin-yi at breakfast and who is put in charge of the money, and Wen Qionglin, who insists Lan Wangji call him Wen Ning.
He sends the missive to Xichen first, then does his best to distract himself from what must follow before his brother's arrival: a long overdue conversation with Wei Ying. After his musings of the morning, Lan Wangji had realized perhaps the best way to minimize damage and protect his zhiji was to, with his consent, formalize the handfasting from years ago.
He only hopes the idea does not upset or offend Wei Ying; Lan Wangji himself has no scruples on the matter. His understanding of his feelings toward his soulmate have cleared since coming to Burial Mounds.
With the letter sent, Lan Wangji has only days to approach him.
Wei Ying is, unsurprisingly, easily sidetracked in each shop, flitting around to browse while Meilin selects supplies for sewing blankets and fibers for the making of bedding. Lan Wangji is pleased when she asks his opinion when it comes to fabrics for the more practical robes the aunties will sew for him, letting her explain the benefits of certain fabrics. Ultimately the choice is simply a matter of color.
Lan Wangji is practical, and chooses the least expensive option, an undyed fabric that's a mottled cream. His choice receives a nod of approval from Meilin. She easily haggles the price down further by buying a bulk amount, clearly planning to make more robes.
"On the way home, we'll harvest bamboo leaves," she tells him, and pats his arm with a smile. "We can use them to dye the fabric a pale green for you. Very light, but it will even out the color, make it look nicer. We'll get a cheap mordant in the market."
Her thoughtfulness toward him, when he's foisted himself on the refugees, is touching.
Wei Ying chooses that moment to wander over. "Light colors stain so easily, though."
Meilin only laughs at him. "Not everyone is like you, young master. There are other dyes we can create for you, darker ones. I was once a seamstress, you know!"
Lan Wangji had never considered the art of fabric dying to be something he would learn, but he is willing to help the aunties if needed; any learning is worthwhile.
She chooses other, heavier fabrics for use creating blankets and bedding, haggling ruthlessly but buying in large enough quantities that the shop owner is satisfied.
A bookstore is nearby, giving Lan Wangji the opportunity to quickly peruse books about plants and farming.
"Carrots, beets, squash, beans, tomatoes," he reports when he rejoins them outside.
He feels mildly guilty for perusing without purchase, but practicality dictates his actions now.
"There are a lot of v-varieties of squash," Wen Ning contributes. "So we can t-try to grow several?"
"Not potatoes?" Wei Ying asks, sounding a bit put-out.
"Wen Qing is correct in that they are not as easy to grow," Lan Wangji tells him.
Wei Ying just sighs. "Well, at least it's something other than radishes."
Meilin insists they have a bit of lunch to tide them over, purchasing inexpensive food from street vendors. Wen Ning does not require food, and Lan Wangji claims to be practicing inedia and insists Wei Ying eat his share. And with the three of them watching expectantly, he for once doesn't argue.
Since they expect Xichen in the coming week, Wen Qing had given them leave to purchase a small amount of tea. Lan Wangji selects based on scent, choosing one he is certain his brother has never tried, but is likely to enjoy.
After some time in the market purchasing plants, seeds, herbs, produce, meat, and building material, it becomes easily apparent that bringing their purchases back to Burial Mounds will not be a simple endeavor. Meilin's suggestion that they buy a cart, which will also be useful during farming and building, is a welcome one.
By the time they head back toward Burial Mounds, Wen Ning pushing the laden cart, the sun is starting to set, and dusk is fast approaching when they reach its borders. The trek to the small settlement leaves them nearing twilight. Though it is still hours until hai shi, Lan Wangji's day has been full, and he looks forward to rest. He can only imagine Wei Ying, whose body is weakened by prolonged lack of food, is exhausted.
Wen Qing seems to agree. She takes one look at him and tells him to go lay down "before I make you," holding up a needle.
While Lan Wangji prefers she not threaten him, he also knows his stubborn nature likely has made that a necessity. Wen Qing waits until Wei Ying is past her on his way to the cave, then looks at him pointedly and jerks her head subtly in a silent order to go with him.
He leaves the rest of the settlement to unload the cart, his mind turning once again to the need to address their relationship, the need to address what he knows Wei Ying does not understand about what happened in the Cold Spring cave those years ago.
A-Yuan's interference, running for Wei Ying the moment he sees him and insisting upon being picked up, allows Lan Wangji to catch up. Popo is lagging behind the boy, looking quite tired.
"Ah, Wei-gongzi, A-Yuan hasn't taken his nap yet. He was too excited waiting for you."
The slight smile on her face tells Lan Wangji that the elder had made sure of that; it's nice to know these people are also trying to care for Wei Ying however possible.
Wei Ying doesn't seem to notice the smile, swinging A-Yuan around in his arms. "Okay, my little radish, let's get you a nap before dinner."
Lan Wangji offers a short, polite bow to popo who waves it off in embarrassment, and follows them to the cave.
"I will play 'Rest,' so he may sleep easier."
That gets a sideways glance from Wei Ying, but he seems to accept that Lan Wangji isn't going to yield.
While they nap, Lan Wangji attempts meditation, but is kept from it by his own thoughts, his own fears. Instead he finds himself watching them, Wei Ying curled around the boy protectively, A-Yuan's face snuggled against his chest.
He expects Wei Ying will be angry he never told him of the handfasting, but he also fears he will be against the very idea. Lan Wangji feels as though they have danced around defining their relationship for years. During the Phoenix Mountain hunt, he thought perhaps that had changed when Wei Ying called him zhiji.
But there were different types of zhiji, and he has never asked what Wei Ying means by it. Lan Wangji would be happy for Wei Ying to be his zhiji, his zhiyin, and beyond. His everything.
He longs to be the same to Wei Ying.
He fears his regard for Wei Ying surpasses Wei Ying's regard for him, that he will regard Lan Wangji with disgust.
It is an old fear, one he is well-acquainted with, and one he can no longer allow to control him.
He also hopes to convince Wei Ying to confide in Xichen about his golden core—at least about no longer having one, if not how. He does not usually keep secrets from Xichen—the handfasting is the exception. But even though Wei Ying had not asked Lan Wangji to keep his secret, he will not reveal it to Xichen himself.
Lan Wangji has already done so much to lose Wei Ying's trust, and he never wishes to give him reason to doubt him again.
Eventually Wen Qing comes to summon them for dinner. They exit the cave to find red lanterns hung on the trees and structures, and only then does Lan Wangji remember her comment about a "special dinner" the night before.
Wei Ying looks surprised to see the Wen remnants waiting in the communal area. They stand and gather around when he walks in.
"Ah, you're all still awake? Isn't it late?"
Lan Wangji realizes that they probably retire shortly after dark, keeping to the schedule of farmers.
"All these lanterns… Aren't the lanterns too costly?" Wei Ying asks.
"We made them, of course," Wen Qing replies, carrying in a plate of food and setting it on one of the tables. "We'll hang more along the mountain path. The last thing we need is you slipping and breaking a leg, making more work for me."
Wei Ying laughs softly, and sits at a table. None of the others move.
"What, you haven't started dinner yet?"
"No. We were waiting for you."
Wei Ying blinks at Wen Qing.
"Why did you wait for me?"
She offers him a cup, acting as a proper hostess.
"You've worked hard," she tells him.
Though he takes the cup, Wei Ying looks uncomfortable. Lan Wangji knows he's never been comfortable with gratitude, even though he's often earned it, almost as though he still feels unworthy. When he thanks others, it's often in a self-effacing way, as though he is undeserving of the kindness he has received.
"You're suddenly talking so nicely to me," he comments, grinning. "I'm a little scared."
His voice is undeniably fond, and another laugh ripples through the small group. There's a camaraderie among these people, one Lan Wangji hopes he might be able to join. These months and their struggles have made them close, though he doubts Wei Ying allows himself to feel a part of it.
This dinner, he realizes, is the way they have chosen to let him know he truly is family. Wei Ying adopted them when he saved them from certain death, and they have adopted him in return.
Wen Qing smiles. "In fact, they all wished to have dinner with you. To thank you. But you're always running around and busy, or shutting yourself in your cave for days on end not letting anyone disturb you, and they didn't want to disrupt your work and annoy you."
Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying, the way his face slackens from the smiling expression he usually maintains, the words of gratitude making it hard to maintain the mask he presents to the world.
"They thought you didn't like interacting with others and didn't want to talk to them," Wen Qing scolds gently, "so they were too embarrassed to protest."
A murmur of agreement rises among the Wens.
Surprise crosses Wei Ying's face, and Lan Wangji realizes he had probably kept his distance believing the Wens would want little to do with him. Regardless of the unconcerned face he presents to the world when he's criticized and when crass and slanderous stories about him are shared, he knows his zhiji feels them deeply. The smiling mask he presents to the world hides the pain of all the traumas and ills he has suffered.
And with Wei Ying's role in the war, he had probably assumed despite having saved them they would fear him. So he had kept his distance, had split from his adopted clan to appease cultivation politics, and had accepted loneliness as his only companion all these months.
Lan Wangji's heart aches for him, remembering his reaction over lunch just yesterday to the news of his shijie's impending wedding, the excitement so quickly followed by a forlorn dejection as he realized he would never see it, that he had sacrificed that ability through his choice to remain true to his sense of justice and righteousness.
Wen Qing smiles at him again with a soft sigh, the expression gentle as though she too knows Wei Ying's pain.
"Now a-Ning woke up, and we've been busy celebrating. Hanguang-Jun's decision to stay, we've been busy with arrangements. Meilin-yi said you had a nice lunch in town, but even if you're not hungry, please sit with us and chat and have a few drinks."
The Wens take this as a call to disperse to the gathered tables to eat, and Lan Wangji takes a seat at Wei Ying's table, along with popo, A-Yuan, Wen Qing, and jifu.
Wei Ying's expression is momentarily reflective, but then perks up.
"Drinks? There's liquor here?"
He is clearly excited, as though Lan Wangji hadn't bought him wine during lunch just the previous day. Wei Ying's obsession with alcohol, combined with his mental state, worries him.
Someone brings over a jar, and jifu opens it, smiling widely.
"Fruit wine," he clarifies. "Made from the wild fruit growing on the mountain."
Lan Wangji focuses on filling his bowl, not commenting as he would like that perhaps the fruit would have been better for Wei Ying to eat, given his emaciated state. But this is not his celebration, and the Wens are obviously elated to be able to offer a luxury to their benefactor.
But given the spread of food on the tables now, the fact that there are still funds remaining, the comments he'd heard over breakfast about the impending radish harvest, he can focus on helping ensure Wei Ying gains health again.
These refugees and Wei Ying deserve a bit of luxury in the face of all they have lost. Such small luxuries offer slivers of hope in the darkness they have faced.
"Jifu likes drinking. He knows how to brew, and he made it especially for you," Wen Qing tells him. "He's been trying for a while."
"Really? I'll have to try some!"
Wei Ying sounds excited and eager, the first Lan Wangji has seen since Yiling the previous day, and his excitement only grows when he tastes and deems the wine delicious. Jifu watches, laughing, his expression one of paternal affection.
When jifu offers some to Lan Wangji, he thanks him but declines. Wei Ying's laugh is unexpected, his eyes turning to half-moons with glee.
"Lan Zhan has no tolerance for liquor!" His smile is true and beautiful, the kind he hasn't seen from him in what might be years now, since before the war perhaps. "I once tricked him into drinking and he passed out after only one cup! If all Lans have such low tolerance, no wonder alcohol is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses!"
Gentle laughs rise up from the tables around them, but Lan Wangji isn't offended. Though he had submitted himself for punishment, that the memory gives Wei Ying joy now is enough compensation for him.
"Ah, I was a brat," he comments. "But somehow we became close anyway."
"You still are a brat," Wen Qing tells him.
Wei Ying makes a show of being offended, but is quickly distracted when Wen Ning brings out more food and jifu pours him another bowl of wine.
Through the conversation, Lan Wangji learns Wen Ning has cooked all the dishes, is a proficient chef. He gathers the food is better prepared than they are used to, with a wider variety of flavors. He doesn't contribute to the conversation while eating, and Wei Ying explains that Lan principles prohibit speaking while eating, and the Wens nod in acceptance. They still speak to him, but don't expect a response.
A-Yuan giggles at Wen Ning's appearance, as he has streaks of charcoal across his face from cooking, and calls him Coal-gege, to the laughter of the group. Wen Qing stands to wipe his face gently, in a motherly way.
Wei Ying's eyes grow distant at that, the smile fading a bit, and Lan Wangji knows he is thinking about what he lost. He starts filling his zhiji's bowl, taking care to avoid radishes, and it has the desired effect of distraction.
"You're spoiling me, Lan Zhan," he murmurs, his smile still dimmed, but firmly in the present again.
"You're too thin," popo tells him. "Always giving your food to A-Yuan."
"Mn," Lan Wangji agrees, skirting the line of the principle about speech without directly violating it.
He is, after all, not in the Cloud Recesses, even if he chooses to follow the rules regardless.
"And no one wants to have to carry you drunk to bed," Wen Qing adds, "so you need to eat if you're going to drink more."
More soft laughter follows, along with a toast to "Wei-gongzi." Lan Wangji joins with his cup of water. The atmosphere of the meal, the soft chatter at each table, is wholesome and comfortable, and very different to what he is used to, lacking the silence of Cloud Recesses or the strained feeling of banquets.
Distinctly distant from his own experiences, a sort of controlled chaos, and yet he finds it soothing.
Too soon, it seems, it is hai shi. Lan Wangji bids the room goodnight. Wei Ying waves as he heads out, still engaged in lively banter and drinking with several of the uncles, including jifu. Popo carries a sleepy A-Yuan from the area, accompanying him partway to the cave.
"Goodnight, Rich-gege," the boy murmurs, half asleep. "I'm glad you're staying."
"I am as well."
He pats the boy's head before retiring to the cave.
Lan Wangji is still only somewhat familiar with life on Burial Mounds, and though he would normally wash his face before sleeping he will need to learn where to go for water in the morning instead.
Hours later, he's woken by a shout of panic and a thump, followed by Wei Ying tripping over him blindly. He lights a talisman to find him plastered against the wall, his eyes wide and wild.
"Wei Ying?"
Wei Ying barely glances in his direction, then back to the center of the chamber, his flute held out like a shield.
"Dog. Dog, Lan Zhan."
His voice is filled with more panic than Lan Wangji has ever heard from him, even in the midst of the worst battles in the war.
A growl catches his attention and elicits a whimper from Wei Ying.
Near the boulder Wei Ying uses as a bed, Lan WangJi can make out a pair of glowing red eyes. As he focuses, he can see the outline of a large dog, its body made of and leaking resentful energy. Animal ghosts aren't uncommon, but this one seems especially hostile.
The normal protocol is to attempt liberation first, followed by suppression or elimination if necessary, but Wei Ying is pressed against the wall, curled in on himself, his voice a hoarse croak.
And so Lan Wangji does not feel guilt manifesting his guqin and using Chord Assassination to eliminate immediately, rending the resentful energy into wisps that dissipate into the shadows. He dismisses the instrument, and turns to Wei Ying, who is shaking, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Wei Ying, it's gone."
Wei Ying looks his way again, and Lan Wangji realizes he's beyond words, his pupils blown wide in terror. He's beyond even speaking, just mouthing "dog."
Lan Wangji worries that manifesting his guqin again could send him into a full panic, that he could hurt himself. So instead he imbues his spiritual energy into his voice and hums "Clarity," letting the song reach out to him to soothe.
It takes a couple of verses before Wei Ying's tension starts to ease, the flute lowering. But his shaking doesn't stop. Lan Wangji reaches for him slowly, pulling him away from the wall, closer to him.
"It's gone, Wei Ying," he repeats.
"Gone?"
His voice cracks in the middle of the word.
"Eliminated," he clarifies. "It won't come back."
The sound Wei Ying makes in response is almost a sob, and he goes almost boneless in relief on the cave floor. Even now, he's trembling, his breathing erratic, and Lan Wangji recognizes he's having a mild panic attack.
He didn't know Wei Ying was so afraid of dogs, never expected a phobia of this intensity—he's seen him face down some of the most terrifying monsters with barely a blink, but he's been sent into a state of near-hysteria by a ghost dog.
But Wei Ying is in no condition to explain, and he's still in the throes of panic; he shouldn't be alone. He doesn't resist when Lan Wangji pulls him closer, shifting on the bedroll to share it, covering them both with the blanket, barely reacts at all. Wei Ying's breath smells of alcohol, and he's certain it made his fear worse.
Lan Wangji imbues his voice again and hums "Rest," letting his zhiji settle against him. When he's still, his breathing even, he softly sings "WuJi" to him somewhat self-indulgently, then listens to Wei Ying's breathing until he, too, has fallen back to sleep.
Meilin's name means "plum jade." Wen Qing seems to refer to Fourth Uncle as shifu, but I did excessive research and it can also be jifu, so I went with that. Yes, I brought in the concept of zhiyin, which has historical origins and has been talked about as a word that could have been used in The Untamed, a missed opportunity that means both "soulmate" and more literally "understanding the music," as in of the heart/soul. Which, given that Lan Wangji wrote Wei Wuxian a love song and they play a duet of it near the end of CQL, like omg.
I did far too much research on shit like dying cloth and what plants grow best in poor soil, etc. Some dialog is adapted from episode 29 of CQL.
