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 Eighteen

Lan Wangji comes to learn what Wen Qing meant about Wei Ying's bad days—how he's sometimes barely functional, his 'bad days' taking the form of almost complete mental withdrawal at times, at others a hyperfocus on talisman invention, and a mood that seems to shift drastically from one minute to the next. Noise and touch sensitivity are also issues, with Wei Ying losing his temper far too often for Lan Wangji's liking. He takes to playing the songs of cleansing more often, but it only helps so much.

Popo keeps an eye on A-Yuan when he comes to see Wei Ying, seemingly conscious of what these times entail, and the boy also seems aware, speaking quietly and asking for hugs instead of just snuggling close to his father like normally does. Wei Ying seems conscious of his own temperament, but still occasionally snaps when frustrated, something A-Yuan retreats from, occasionally tearfully, but it nearly always breaks Wei Ying from his funk, reminding him that the child sees him as a father, and he does his best to comfort the boy. On the occasions Wei Ying doesn't break from his temper, Lan Wangji comforts the boy and lets popo lead him away so he can play 'Clarity' for his husband, which always helps, leading him to seek his son and apologize.

It's heartbreaking to see, in no small part because he knows he could have helped his husband, if only he'd come sooner.

On the second day of this, Lan Wangji waits until they're down for a nap before seeking out Wen Qing and explaining his concerns.

"If he's actually sleeping, this is mild," she tells him. "He's overwhelmed and likely in pain, and being in this place doesn't help—he can't even talk about what it was like before, when Wen Chao threw him in here. When he gets like this, sudden noises and movement can trigger him. He'd be numbing himself with alcohol if we let him."

As he had done at Lotus Pier prior to absconding with the remnants of the Dafan Wen, Lan Wangji knew. Xiongzhang had expressed worry about this after their encounter in Yunmeng, and yet it had still taken him so long to defy shufu and come to Yiling to see his zhiji.

"What can I do?" he asks, at a bit of a loss.

"Honestly, the best you can probably do is distract him," Wen Qing says with a sigh. "We'll keep with the baths, and I'll get him to take medicine, and maybe we can do more of the music therapy to see if that helps with the pain, as well."

None of those address the root causes, but Lan Wangji knows that is more easily said than done, trapped in the Burial Mounds with meager resources as they are, that sometimes all one can do is treat symptoms and seek to enhance comfort. He'd much rather there be a way to fix it all, to help Wei Ying become hale and healthy, to protect him from the darkness that sometimes seemed to overpower his ability to function. But if all he can do is distract him, he can manage that, as well.

Dinner brings the revelation that Jiang Yanli left sacks of millet, dried beans and noodles, and a variety of preserved and dried fruits and vegetables, as well as a qiankun pouch filled with various meats, the pouch serving to keep it in stasis until use. Meals the previous day, and breakfast and lunch today, involved leftovers from the banquet, so popo only mentions it when they gather for dinner.

"Shijie," Wei Ying murmurs at the news.

His voice is rough, and Lan Wangji knows his feelings are mixed, to say the least. His sister has shown her love for him by stocking them with food to last probably a few months, even if they don't supplement it, but at the same time he cannot attend her wedding, is losing her in a different way. Her love for him has often taken the form of food, Lan Wangji knows, their sort of love language since he was brought to Lotus Pier a scared and starving waif.

The fare is almost as robust as the feast, and again includes millet pudding with mulberries, since Wen Ning harvested more overnight. There is even a stock of tea for them to enjoy, a spiced one that he knows Wei Ying enjoys, though his husband barely seems to notice what he's eating. But he is eating, which seems to be of concern to Wen Qing and popo, who keep filling his plate—something he also doesn't seem to notice, simply eating what's in front of him. Occasionally A-Yuan breaks through his fog, offering him tidbits from his own bowl, snuggling close and eating whatever Wei Ying offers in return. His presence seems grounding for him.

Lan Wangji starts his own distraction plans after A-Yuan is bundled off to bed by popo, after they've returned to the cave, gathering himself enough to ask about something he's thought about since Wei Ying seemed amused that Xichen paid a bride price—he pulls Wei Ying into his arms and asks him to fuck him.

The look his husband gives him, his eyes dark with desire, is worth the embarrassment of asking. It is, at least for now, completely distracting.

"You're sure?" Wei Ying asks, running a hand up Lan Wangji's arm, looking a little uncertain.

"Very," he murmurs, catching his hand and bringing it to his lips. "Since you mentioned me being the bride to xiongzhang."

That earns a huff of laughter from Wei Ying.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says softly, but the flush to his cheeks, the way he seems present, makes it clear he's interested.

Lan Wangji is of the opinion that the opposite is more likely, being able to draw on his golden core as Wei Ying cannot, but he knows better than to mention that.

"I trust you," he says simply.

It's the right thing to say, Wei Ying's response a soft exhale, as though it still surprises him that Lan Wangji trusts him, and it reminds him of how poorly he expressed his feelings before, that his concern had seemed mistrustful.

They take their time disrobing, the maddening friction of their clothing between them, the fumbling of with the folds of their robes, the sloppy, needy kisses making it seem almost like the first time all over again.

Lan Wangji comes back to himself in snatches of sensation—sweat-slick fingers still loosely curled around his own, moisture where he's drooling slightly on his chest.

"I don't think I can move," Wei Ying slurs, his lips moving against the oversensitive skin of Lan Wangji's chest, close to his nipple.

He gives himself ten seconds to enjoy the glow, then disentangles their limbs. Wei Ying hisses when he lifts him off.

The bath awaits, and Lan Wangji can tell from the way fluid drips down his thighs when he stands that he will need one as well. He lifts Wei Ying and enters the tub with him, easing them down into the water to bathe together, deciding this is the most expedient option.

Wei Ying slumps against him, moaning softly as they are engulfed by hot water, his breath hot against his chest. He seems already half-asleep, or at least in a post-coital daze, so Lan Wangji bathes them both efficiently, then leans him against the side of the tub and gets out, placing the sachet of herbs Wen Qing prepared into the hot water, leaving him to soak. Wei Ying lets out an unintelligible sound of protest, so he leans in and kisses him softly before moving to dry himself, dress, and clean up the bed.

Tomorrow, he thinks, as he returns to settle beside the tub, letting Wei Ying's hair down and running a comb through it, they can visit the stream and he'll wash Wei Ying's hair, perhaps encourage him to take a nap with A-Yuan in the sun instead of in the cave. He sections off his husband's hair and braids it efficiently, tying it with a segment of cloth instead of a ribbon for tonight.

When he lifts Wei Ying from the tub, he stirs with a pained hiss, and Lan Wangji takes care in lowering him to the bed, concerned. At first, he wonders if it's a reaction to leaving the warm water for the cool air of the cave, but once he's helped him dry, Wei Ying lets out another pained noise as he tries to help him into his zhong yi.

"Wei Ying, you are hurt?"

Wei Ying's expression twists in irritation.

"I'm a fucking invalid. Can't even fuck my husband without throwing out my back."

There's frustration in his voice, and Lan Wangji knows his limitations grate on him. Not just the lack of a golden core, which Wei Ying has confessed feels like a yawning emptiness, a coldness that pervades him from the hole he feels is left behind, but also the weakness of his body, impacted by the resentful energy he wields and that surrounds them, as well as a third period in his life facing starvation.

Knowing Wei Ying, he likely would have tried to hide the injury if he could. Even now, he sees himself as a burden he must lessen. If not for the fact that those who instilled his lack of self-worth are likely dead, Lan Wangji would have words for them. Or, at the very least, the sharp end of Bichen.

Lan Wangji tries not to feel guilty for having made the request, even as he aches in a pleasant way where Wei Ying was, even though he wants it again. He acknowledges the guilt, but also the fact that they could not have known this would happen. More than anything, it's a reminder of his need for further recovery.

"Your body is recovering," he says, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "More food and treatment will help you improve."

Wei Ying grimaces, but he can see how much emotion he's holding back. Lan Wangji knows he doesn't regret the sacrifice he made for his brother, for the war (as much as the cultivation world refuses to acknowledge it), for the people he now protects.

"I was once your equal," Wei Ying says tightly.

Lan Wangji cups his cheek, running his thumb across the slant of his cheekbone gently, as though wiping the tears he knows his zhiji won't allow to fall.

"You still are," he tells him.

His strength may not lie in his golden core, in his weakened body right now, but it is still there, in his sense of justice, in his refusal to give up as so many others might. Lan Wangji saw other cultivators who had lost their cores to Wen Zhuliu, and many of them had given up on life, not wishing to face life mediocre—as Jiang Wanyin had apparently also felt. Wei Ying not only willingly gave his core, but insisted on still moving forward, hiding his pain and trauma to try to do what was right.

"Wei Ying is good. Kind. Generous. Selfless and self-sacrificing," Lan Wangji murmurs, kissing him with every other word. "Wei Ying is used to hiding his needs and caring for others. He needs to let others care for his needs and let himself recover."

His husband huffs at him, but half-heartedly and with a shy smile. He has never seemed to take these sorts of compliments easily, perhaps not used to the praise; Lan Wangji intends to change that.

"We will speak to Wen Qing tomorrow," he tells him decisively. "Another musical acupuncture session, concentrating on the injured muscle, should help."

"Ugh, needles," Wei Ying grouses, grimacing again.

"Mm. My husband is brave. He will persevere."

Wei Ying's smile is a little wider when he kisses him again, nuzzling close.

"Aiya, Lan Zhan. What did I do to deserve you?"

"You are Wei Ying," he says softly. "You need do nothing but be yourself."

He can feel Wei Ying relax by degrees, his frustration mollified for the moment, though he knows it will return. They give up on the zhong yi, but, being gentle and patient, Lan Wangji manages to get him into a soft inner robe.

With a little more work, he's able to help his husband find a less painful position in which to sleep and soothes him to sleep humming 'WuJi.'

Lan Wangji doesn't sleep immediately, instead enjoying the afterglow of sensations in his body, even after the bath, enjoying the peace in his husband's expression as he sleeps—hopefully deeply and without nightmares tonight.

Logically, he knows he is doing all he can for Wei Ying, but it never feels like enough, not after he abandoned him in the rain and dark. He also knows Wei Ying holds no grudge over it, largely holds no grudges except for the understandable one he had against Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu.

Even in the worst of the war following that, Wei Ying hadn't been as cruel as he'd seen him in the systematic hunting and killing of Wen Chao. The man who had ordered he be thrown into Burial Mounds had died castrated, disfigured, and terrified, having eaten his own fingers. At the time, he had been horrified, but knowing his husband still couldn't talk about what he had endured in the Burial Mounds before he managed what no other cultivator had and conquered it.

And he'd done it all after having endured major surgery that left him without a golden core.

Lan Wangji wishes there was a way to restore it, even if it would mean giving up his own, but Wen Qing confirmed to Jiang Wanyin the lowered odds due to Wei Ying's poor health and the resentful energy shredding his meridians. Nothing could be done about the latter until they were able to leave the Burial Mounds and find a way to destroy the Stygian Tiger Seal—something apparently difficult in its own right, with Wei Ying's attempt after the war ending in an explosion that destroyed a forge.

Wei Ying would never accept such a gift, so the point was moot.

For the moment, helping him become healthy was the only path available, and aside from ensuring he sleeps regularly—sex, he's found, is very effective in wearing Wei Ying down so he sleeps afterward, sometimes even getting more than eight hours—and eats enough to recover from his third experience with starvation in his life, Lan Wangji is at a loss as to what more he can do.

This is, perhaps, something Wen Qing can advise him on, so that he can care for his husband as he deserves, and thus a conversation for the morning.

It's far past hai shi, his ingrained schedule impossible in the Burial Mounds, but he doesn't mind it. He is not in the Cloud Recesses, and he's usually awake at mao anyway, more able to handle less sleep than anyone else here.

And if he was truly tired at any point, he could simply take a nap with his husband and A-Yuan.

Lan Wangji settles close to Wei Ying, twining their hands to give contact, so if he wakes from a nightmare and is confused, he knows he isn't alone.

He decides to sleep on his side, not properly on his back, so that he may gaze upon his husband, so he will be the last image before sleep takes him.

His guilt can only serve as a reminder to honor his husband now and as they move forward; he cannot change the past, no matter how he might wish he could, can only work to make the future better for Wei Ying.


Something of an interlude but dealing with Wei Wuxian's poor mental and physical health and all the difficulty those entail. While being without a golden core isn't considered a disability for anyone but a cultivator, the health impacts of resentful energy and bodily trauma he faced, along with the psychological impacts of those as well, have left Wei Wuxian barely able to function.

Lan Wangji is trying to navigate how best to care for his husband, and in part that involves grieving what Wei Wuxian has lost. There's guilt, too, of course.

This is also a part of my 'let wwx/lwj have awkward sex' agenda. Last chapter was a first time blow job, and this chapter is a pulled muscle during sex. Uncensored version is on AO3.

Again, happy Disability Pride Month. I suffer from a chronic pain condition, double depression, and anxiety, and am working on trauma recovery. The two fics I've updated this month seem to have a theme involving disability and recovery/coping, and the schedule just worked out that way.