大家好！这个故事已经持续了一段时间。
Hello all! This story has been in progress for quite a while.
If you are on AO3, you will notice that story is familiar. This is exactly the same fic, it's just finally being posting here. It's fully completed and will be posted weekly.
This fic has depictions of canon-typical violence as well as panic attacks. Please take notice of this if you believe it will upset you.
Rather than using an English translation of everyone's titles, I use the pinyin romanization of them. Therefore, words like gongzi (公子) will be written as such rather than "young master". A glossary will be included at the end of each chapter that introduces a new word. If this is too confusing or frustrating, I will gladly change it.
Come find me on Tumblr at DynamicDiplomacy. It's a miscellany of many different interests and I'm sure there's something for everyone.
Three months is a long time. Three months and the world seemed to have decided to shove off the memories as if they never existed. As if he never existed. He had been a blight to them, and now he had been conveniently removed, erased, forgotten. Why did he expect anything else from his fellows?
Three months is a long time. It had seemed both a lifetime and just a moment. He had felt Wei Ying's absence like a wound, long-healing and endlessly aching. He had been gone for three months. He might be dead. No, no. Wei Ying was stronger than that. He wouldn't be killed that easily. He would never leave, haunting the steps beside Wangji for this lifetime and probably the next.
The morning air is damp with the anticipation of rain, thick in his throat. It mirrors the sinking dread that seems to permeate his bones more and more everyday. Jiang Wanyin had sent out patrol after patrol to look for his brother with no luck. Wangji had wished to go on every single one because maybe maybe if he went, it would be like a lantern that calls his best friend home. But instead, he had been stuck here, out of place in white robes, trying to rebuild his sect alone.
Three months is a long time.
The rain is falling densely now in a soaking wet curtain. But amidst the stone courtyard, there's a smudge of black. A drop of ink on a sea of parchment, the relief of shade on a bright summer's day.
A best friend returned from a disappearance.
Wei Ying.
His shoes slipped as he sprinted across the wooden decking, the voice of his uncle unbidden reminding him running was uncivilised. For once, Wangji didn't care about the rules. It had been three months of choking down the smoke and ruin of his life. Wei Ying was fresh air, purifying and boundless. He needed to breathe.
But this wasn't the breath he was gasping for, no. This seemed wrong, unnatural.
His black robes were tattered and torn around his shoulders and Wangji could see the raw soles of his feet through the holes in his shoes.
"Wei Ying!" He can hear someone shout, maybe its his own voice.
From the nearby dining hall, there's the clatter of swords and feet. A contingent of off-duty soldiers clammer into the courtyard, on the ready to defend their still-wounded clan.
"Wei-gongzi!" One of them shouts, stopping just a metre from the unconscious man. Lan Wangji bundles Wei Wuxian into his arms, ignoring the very public nature of his surroundings. It was pouring rain and Wei Wuxian did not need to add sickness to his likely long list of trauma.
"Find the physician." He manages to say, his baritone voice staying remarkably steady. A soldier nods and runs off, sword rattling beside him.
Wei Ying did not stir even as Wangji hustles across the compound, favouring expediency over elegance. As he settles him down on the infirmary bed, the Lan places a finger under his nose. The man was just so still, a mere page from death, he had to check. A steady but shallow breath warms his fingers and he breathes out a sigh like he never had before.
A few moments later, the door slides open and a man steps in, panting. Acting on impulse, Wangji turns and glares down whoever would dare interrupt him. He doesn't miss the brief glimpse of fear in the other's eyes.
Smoothly gliding from fear into decorum, the man bows. "Lan-ergongzi, I am the physician of the Jiang clan. My name is Tie Xiuying but most just call me Tie-daifu."
"I found Wei Wuxian in the courtyard. He is unconscious."
Xiuying nods once and begins his examination. He is efficient, disrobing the man, careful to avoid aggravating any potential injuries. Lan Wangji looked away as the physician pulled off Wei Wuxian's outer layers, leaving him just in a pair of trousers. When he looked back, he had to physically stop himself from gasping.
Wei Ying had always been lean and trim. But now… now he just looked ill. Like he had gone three months without the sun, pale waxy skin stretched over bone. Too much like a corpse. He forces his eyes away, unable to stand the thought of such. The physician meanwhile carefully inspects every inch of him, finding a littering of wounds. A hand on his back comes back wet with blood and the man makes a startled noise.
"Could you assist me in turning him over?"
Wangji nods, unable to find the voice to respond. Crisscrossing the wings of Wei Wuxian's shoulder blades are the frayed, jagged scars indicative of Zidian. There are other wounds, whip strokes and neat sword swipes but he finds he cannot tear himself away from those electric scars, barely healed. The thick fabric of his hanfu had kept the blood contained but now exposed to air, the wounds had begun bleeding freely, making the already pale man even ghastlier.
The door behind them slams open and Bichen is unsheathed before he can even realise it. Jiang Wanyin stomps in, "Was anyone going to tell me that my missing brother showed up? Or were you just going to keep that a little secret?"
Lan Wangji knows at least part of this anger is not for him but it still makes the hand on his sword clench. Jiang Wanyin parades around the world boasting about how much he loves his brother but in every case, he will choose controlling him over understanding him.
"Jiang-zongzhu, please keep your voice down." The physician admonishes and Lan Wangji is impressed with his bravery.
A tiny wounded noise from the bed makes all conversation, civil or otherwise, stop.
"Wei Ying?"
The man, wraith, on the bed quivers. His head tosses from side to side weakly as though trying to dispel a fog. Mumbled words and pleas escape his lips. In a violent jolt, he nearly throws himself off the bed. Immediately Wangji is there, calloused hands holding his legs.
Behind him, the pieces start to click in Jiang Wanyin's mind and fury burns vibrant in his veins. How dare he think he is more to Wei Wuxian than me?
"Get out." His voice is steadfast.
Those sharp eyes lock on his but he will not let the intimidation bother him.
"Jiang-zongzhu, mind your words." The Lan's voice is deep and rumbling, speaking to thunderstorms and earthquakes all the same.
"I said GET OUT! You are no longer welcome in Lotus Pier. Someone will escort you out of the gates. From there, you can find your own accommodation. I'm sure your clan can afford it."
Jiang Wanyin knows, oh does he know, that he has gone a step too far. They should have been kin, sworn brothers. The two remaining heirs of two once powerful sects. But he has always been prone to anger. And anger burns hotter than sensibility.
Lan Wangji's eyes are no longer fixed on his. Instead they stare lower. Right at the silver ring sparking against his skin. Bichen is no match for Zidian, Jiang Wanyin finds himself thinking as if violence would really improve this already tense situation.
If Zewu-jun had been there, or any remaining member of the Gusu Lan sect, they would have been horrified at the expression on Lan Wangji's face. It spoke of rage as irrepressible as the tides and frustration as wide as the valleys. It was old and potent, bottled away for too many years. But the only other man who could read it was unconscious on the bed beside them, the very reason this whole situation had begun.
The man unfolds to his full height, drawing up to an intimidating frame. One hand, clenched around his sword, the other tucked behind his back, his white robes too clean, too blinding.
"Thank you, Tie-daifu for your care of Wei Wuxian." are his only words before giving a deep bow to the doctor. He neither speaks nor acknowledges Jiang Wanyin's presence as he leaves.
And after the door has slid shut, Jiang Wanyin is hit with the feeling that he has just meddled in something he should not have dared touch.
1) 宗主 (Zōngzhǔ): head of a clan/sect
2) 大夫 (Dàifu): an old colloquial term for a doctor of medicine. 医生 (Yīshēng) is a modern term for doctor.