Heat.
Blistering heat pressing in on him from all sides; thick black smoke clogging his lungs; the scent of burning filling his nose.
Burning wood, burning cloth, paper, ink, and flesh. Choking on the foreign stench of cooking meat; trying not to wonder which of the disciples it might be – his people; as future sect Leader, they were his people, all of them.
Forcing himself to focus on the task before him, reminding himself that Wangji – Oh, gods, Wangji; his didi – no; not the time – was risking so much for him to have this chance; out there at the forefront of the fighting, leading the resisting disciples against the invading Wens as the representative of their family while he and Shufu fought to save their legacy...
...Running, running; endless running, weighted down with numerous qiankun bags filled with as much of the vast library and ancient treasures of the Lan Sect as they could get their hands on in the time they'd had.
Choking on his tears and grief, wide-eyed with horror; frightened down to his bones.
Trying not to think, to dwell, to wonder who had been lost – did he know them? He should at least know their names – was Wangji...?
No, no; he couldn't go there; not here, not now. Not until it was safe.
This was his duty, his burden; to ensure the survival of their Sect.
Oh, but it hurt.
It hurt so badly.
His soul wailed in endless mourning; staggering beneath the unbearable weight of his grief; his heart cried out in fear for his didi, his people, his home.
Would there be anything left? Anyone?
He didn't know; couldn't know, and all he could do was run, run, run...
Xichen woke with a gasp; soaked in sweat, face streaked in tears.
Lying on his borrowed bed, shaking and panting as he tried to catch his breath; to slow the frantic pounding of his racing heart.
Curling onto his side, he lifted shaking hands to cover his face and muffled his sobs.
All he could do right now was weep helplessly, as if he were nothing more than a defenceless child once again; feeling so weak and small, utterly powerless and unspeakably, terrifyingly young. Fragile and incapable of accomplishing anything alone.
He was just so very, horribly, soul-shatteringly alone. Alone, and irrevokably lost.
Silent tears and heartache kept him company for the long hours until his eyes ran dry and he could only stare unseeingly into the dark, feeling absolutely hollow; carved out and left empty, hopeless and achingly numb.
Exhaustion eventually pulled him under once more; the prolonged use of inedia, untreated burns, bruises and other minor wounds, combined with the constant exertion and hypervigilance of the past couple of weeks dragging him irresistibly back into unconsciousness.
Even then, there was little true rest to found.
His worries and his broken heart continued to haunt him; the vicious spectre of the burning of Cloud Recesses looming over him, following him even into his now mercifully dreamless sleep.
Throughout the remainder of the uneasy night, the occasional shudders which racked his frame were the indication that he still breathed.
So completely worn by his flight and his midnight breakdown, he was shockingly late to rise the next day. It was already well into the afternoon when his rescuer woke him; looking apologetic at having roused him when he was so clearly in desperate need of rest.
"You need to eat," the young man told him gently.
He spoke in such a soft, compassionate tone that Xichen felt tears prick his eyes at this stranger's unexpected kindness.
The unprovoked and unanticipated attack on his Sect had left him deeply shaken, uncertain in his formerly-steadfast belief in the inherent goodness of his fellow man.
Receiving unlooked-for care and unquestioning aid without any expectation of return from a complete stranger was just as shocking in its own way; but it served to restore his faith in humanity and give him hope. It made him feel just a little more like himself again, and he was humbled and grateful beyond words for everything the selfless man had done.
As Xichen took the bowl of stew his unexpected saviour pushed into his hands, he considered the blessed stroke of good fortune that had brought them together.
Meeting Meng Yao was unquestionably one of the best things that had ever happened to him.
Perhaps the only better one was his friendship with Yanli.
He found himself dwelling on her; the memory of her letters to him, and of their time together during the recent Discussion Conference. The thought of his friend brought him a degree of comfort during his misery, and he clung to it fiercely.
A swell of gratitude filled him for the knowledge that he could be certain that at least one person who was precious to him was safe.
The very idea that anything terrible might happen to her was maddening; he couldn't bear it if she were harmed in any way, especially not after everything that had already happened. So the fact that she was nowhere near Cloud Recesses, away from danger was vastly relieving.
While he ate he centered himself by focusing on her, considering his growing affection and admiration for her and reflecting on the changes she had wrought in him.
Because he had changed.
Not at his core; not in the fundamental makeup of who he was, but in the way he saw and understood things.
She had impacted the way he made decisions, what information he considered relevant to understanding a situation, and the numerous and at times multi-layered motivations and reasoning people had for their actions.
If he'd met Meng Yao before he got to know Yanli; before he was influenced through the advice, suggestions, and alternate viewpoint she offered him to recognise how much more complicated and varied people and their circumstances could be from his own experiences; before learning to recognise shades of grey in morality and character, he might have unconsciously idealised the other man.
While he certainly thought well of him, was grateful to him and wished to repay his assistance and goodwill; he wasn't going to assume this meant the man was wholly, completely and unquestionably good. A good man? Absolutely. His gracious and charitable actions had mended part of what the Wens had broken in Xichen, and he was as grateful for that gift as he was for the more tangible help the other had given him.
But that did not mean it would be wise to assume that Meng Yao was always righteous in his heart.
Xichen knew that without Yanli's assistance in expanding his understanding of people and comprehension of their complexities and contradictions, he would have likely decided then and there to become Meng Yao's most loyal and devoted friend. Although he was still determined to befriend the smaller man, he was aware that they were virtual strangers to each other, and it would be foolish of him to assume he knew everything about the other's character simply from their limited time together.
Meng Yao could be a good person; could do incredibly selfless things, yet still have intentions that Xichen would need to be wary of.
He was human, and people were complicated.
Overall, Xichen felt that he owed his rescuer the benefit of the doubt; but he knew himself well enough by now to realise that he was too likely to take things at face value to rely solely on his own judgement with regards to people's intentions, motivations, and possible agendas without at least attempting to gain a second opinion from someone he trusted.
Perhaps with a bit of effort, he could develop enough of a suspicious, questioning nature to always examine things more deeply on his own; but he was content as he was.
He didn't want to become cynical enough to change himself so much; which was part of why he was so grateful to Meng Yao for stopping him from losing his ability to believe in people.
He was content to rely on people he trusted like Yanli and Míngjué to offer him their advice when they thought he was being naïve about someone.
After all, the important thing was that he knew he might actually need that second opinion sometimes.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't help wondering if Yanli would be proud of him for remaining true to himself despite the recent tragedy giving him cause to doubt his largely positive worldview.
For all that not only his future, but even his present was so uncertain, as he reflected on Yanli and how much her friendship brought him joy and enriched his life he felt remarkably at peace.
"Do you have anyone special waiting for you?"
It was a casual question, with an easy and obvious answer.
Yet the moment A-Yao asked him that, he almost couldn't stop himself from blurring out, "Yes."
The moment he realised it, it was as though all of the pieces fell into place.
He thought back on it; and upon reflection he realised that even without being consciously aware of his choice, his heart was already hers.
Somehow, without even realising it, he'd gone and fallen in love with Jiāng Yànlí. He hadn't even noticed it until now; but now that he had, it seemed obvious. She'd made her home in every corner of his heart, and just remembering that she existed was enough to make the world seem less awful when everything else was falling apart.
Loving Jiāng Yànlí was as easy as breathing in fresh air, and as natural as the sunrise.
He felt somewhat foolish for how long it had taken him to recognize the true nature of the affection he had developed for her; but now was not the time to dwell on it.
For now, he couldn't afford to let himself think of Yanli; not when he had to pretend that his condition when they'd arrived had been due to the reaction of his strict family to learning he was a cutsleeve. Not when he couldn't afford to be Lán Xīchén right now.
Instead, he was Xian Cheng, and he wasn't running and hiding from anything worse than angry parents.
Right now, he had to pretend to be A-Yao's cutsleeve lover; the two of them seeking refuge in this brothel from his disapproving family while A-Yao tended to him and nursed him back to health after their violent reaction to learning of his orientation.
It was going to take all of his effort to avoid giving himself away.
There would be time to think about Yanli later; time to consider his feelings for her, and what they meant for him, for them. Time to figure out just what to do about them, and how.
Hopefully, after this whole mess with the Wens was over, he would be able to convince her to let him court her. He didn't know the first thing about courting; but he would learn, and hope that she would eventually consent to be his.
He was already hers, after all.
A/N: This is part one of a series called, A Love Both Gentle & Sure. While both this fic and the second one can be read as stand-alone fics, they are companion fics which each tell one side of the story between LXC and JYL. They are both three chapters long each.
Like Flowers Blooming tells JYL's side of the story. Yours Upon Reflection tells LXC's. If you can't find the next one, it's on my profile page, posted under "The Untamed" - even though these are set in the novel-verse.
In addition to these two there are two side fics in this series - Letters From Wei Ying To Lan Zhan & Back; as well as LBG&S Side-Stories & Short Fics. These can be read at any time without giving spoilers. LFWYTLZ&B was originally written as a multi-media fic; you can find the letters (from both boys) and drawings (from WWX) in the original multi-media format posted on the archive. (Of our own organization.)
There are two fics that follow these two as well.
As The Sun Goes Down continues the story from shortly before the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign to its end; though it can also be read as a stand-alone fic. Springtime Contemplations rounds out the series by going through the aftermath of the war, marriage, and focuses a lot more on the WangXian relationship than the earlier fics do.
I may eventually follow these up with a couple of one-shots about baby Lans (and possibly a PWP or two about the making of them, as well as LXC/JYL's wedding night), and their life together. And/or a few more WangXian-centric fics in this verse.