Lan Wangji is an avenging spirit in white as he races down corridors. Disciples jump out of his way, knowing better than to stick their noses into this.
In the main hall, Tie-daifu and Cang Luoyang kneel on the mat floor before Jiang Wanyin who sits in the lotus throne, Zidian crackling in his hand.
"You allowed an outside sect member into our compound. You showed him weak points in our security. You put us all at risk so soon after the massacre. It is unforgivable."
"Jiang-zongzhu," the doctor begins, dipping his head in submission, "it was my idea, please do not punish Cang-guniang for my own actions."
"Tell me, daifu. Is Cang-guniang of sound mind?"
The man startles, clearly taken off guard by the question. He stammers, "Y-yes. She is of sound mind and health completely."
"Then, why should I not punish her? You did not force her to participate. She could have turned you in and informed me of the plan. She chose to help Lan-ergongzi into Lotus Pier. She is as much at fault as you."
Silence is his only response. "Both of you will be banished from Lotus Pier. Be lucky you are escaping with your lives."
Lan Wangji has heard enough. Straightening his body, he strides into the hall. "Jiang Wanyin."
"Lan-ergongzi, this is a private sect matter. Leave at once."
His refusal to move is an answer written in stone.
"Lan-ergongzi, need I remind you that you are banned from Lotus Pier? I remember Gusu Lan being very strict on rules and propriety. How would your shufu feel seeing you breaking them?"
The doctor was right about the man's tongue. Bites like a viper. He steps forward past the pair of kneeling figures and drops to his own knees. Behind him, there's two sharp inhales of breath.
"Jiang-zongzhu, I claim responsibility for the actions of Tie-daifu and Cang-guniang. I subject myself to your punishment but do not punish them. It was my idea to enter Lotus Pier."
A bitter, twisted laugh echoes around the room. Wangji turns his eyes up to look at the throne.
"Lan-ergongzi, no wonder my brother is so infatuated with you. You both are so dedicated to this idea of justice, I bet you would even foolishly die for it… I accept your appeal for mercy. Tie-daifu, Cang-guniang, you are excused but if I learn you broke a rule, no matter how minor, I will not be as lenient."
"Yes, zongzhu. Thank you." comes the chorus from behind Lan Wangji and a moment later, he is left alone to face fate.
"Stand up. Unsheath your sword. Follow me."
Wangji follows the sect leader out to the courtyard where the other man turns to face him and unsheathes his own sword, an unspoken challenge to a duel.
He nods, acquiescing to the challenge without knowing its terms.
Duels within the jianghu, on the whole, were seen as self-seeking and egocentric. However, the way the man was simmering with rage seemed to suggest the norm would surely be ignored. Filial piety was considered the only exception to these customs but Jiang Fengmian had been killed in the massacre and Qingheng-jun succumbed to his injuries from the burning of Cloud Recesses before Wangji had even escaped the Xuanwu.
So Jiang Wanyin had no grounds - and a seemingly no moral compass - for a duel, and yet seemed intent on having one. But Wangji knew that the man had at least the vestiges of morality, having seen him defend both of his siblings as well as protect fellow cultivators as well as civilians in battle. Where had the man who earned high marks with ease at Cloud Recesses gone? Is this what the war has done to them all? Buoyant, carefree steps of childhood replaced by exhausted, battle-weary marches?
"First blood. You draw it, you can remain in Lotus Pier. I draw it, you never set foot here again."
They exchange blows for minutes, Wangji just letting the man tire himself out. He knew he was the better swordsman, having seen the other man fight before. He knew he could overwhelm him easily.
"Stop!" comes the hoarse cry from the adjacent hallway. Hobbling on legs not yet ready, Wei Ying appears at the threshold. He clutches the column with anguish wild in his eyes, "Jiang Wanyin, what are you doing?"
"Oh of course, blame me as if your Lan Zhan had nothing to do with it."
Wei Wuxian's eyes darken at the man's use of such a casual name. The ebony flute flashes in his hands but his brother seems to not care. The sense of dread that is flooding through Lan Wangji refuses to abate. He sheathes Bichen in an effort to show he is not a threat to whatever is about to happen. The thing that glints in Wei Ying's eyes is not him. This is something older, darker.
In the span of a single breath, three things happen in quick succession.
One, Sandu curves maliciously towards Wangji.
Two, the high-pitched tone of a flute shrieks.
Three, an impossible shadow is cast across the courtyard.
Wei Wuxian's eyes are rimmed with red as he plays, manipulating the swirling black mass that blocks the sunlight. It hovers just above the two of them, tendrils lashing down at them. Sandu is stuck frozen in the air on its deadly arc and Jiang Wanyin's eyes widen as he realises what has happened.
The melody is shrill and spectral, resonating deep in their bones. It sounds wrong.
One of the tendrils whips down and splits a long gash across the smooth skin of Wangji's cheek.
"Wei Ying!"
The flute music stops at once, silence cascading upon them. Wei Wuxian stumbles back a few steps and Wangji darts forward to catch his elbow. The man suddenly looks decades older than he should be, eyes full of so much more sorrow than they ever should have to hold. A shaking hand reaches up to probe at the weeping wound on the other man's cheek.
"Your brother is going to kill me for that…" he whispers and sinks into Wangji's arms, slipping beneath the waves once more.
The clatter of a sword hitting stone echoes behind him. "What just happened?" Jiang Wanyin asks, voice breathless in shock. After the man's shameless behaviour, Wangji does not give him the dignity of a response. In an alarming repeat of yesterday, he lifts Wei Ying's body into his arms and heads in the direction of the infirmary.
Approaching the doors, he hears two familiar voices inside. It's a hushed conversation but distressing enough.
"He'll be alright, Luoyang. He's a cultivator."
"But he took punishment for us. We committed treason against the clan. He could be killed!"
"Even Jiang-zongzhu wouldn't dare execute a Lan, let alone a Twin Jade."
Adjusting his hold on Wei Ying, he nudges the door open with a toe. The conversation behind immediately stops and is replaced with a shocked gasp.
"Wei-gongzi?!"
"Set him down on the bed. What happened?"
Wangji's lips press into a thin line for a moment before he speaks. "Jiang-zongzhu challenged me to a duel. Wei Wuxian broke it off and then collapsed."
The doctor's hands flurry around examining the array of bandages. None seem to have blood on them so they haven't reopened, luckily. "It looks like he just collapsed from exhaustion. His body wasn't ready for what I'm sure was a troublesome situation."
Luoyang inhales sharply when she catches sight of Lan Wangji.
"Lan-ergongzi, your face!"
In his haste to get Wei Ying to the physician, he'd forgotten about the gash on his cheek. It steadily bleeds, a solitary tear track of blood down to his chin. Tie-daifu turns around at the exclamation and then quickly busies himself with finding supplies.
"There is no need, Tie-daifu. It is just a minor injury. Wei Ying is more important."
The man just waves a hand dismissively, "He just needs rest. He'll be fine. I want to clean your wound though. Please sit."
There's no use arguing with him so he does just that, settling his tall frame onto a nearby stool. It's quick work of washing off the blood before the doctor packs a salve into it. It stings at first but settles.
"You can wash the salve off tomorrow. It should heal perfectly fine in a matter of a few days. Try to avoid any more sword fights for a while." The man chides playfully before his expression turns serious. He lowers himself to his knees and bows deep to the Lan. "Thank you, Lan-ergongzi, for accepting punishment for us. It was a merciful and gracious thing to do and we are honoured by your bravery."
"Tie-daifu, please rise. I should be thanking you. I merely stepped in to protest the unfair treatment of innocents. You have cared for Wei Wuxian greatly and taken every step to ensure his comfort, even if it means violating sect rules. That is what bravery should be."
The kneeling man nods, knowing there is no use in arguing the point further. He pulls himself to his feet and grabs Luoyang's shoulder from where she had been standing silently to the side.
"Come on, Yang-xiaomei. We will leave you to rest now, Lan-ergongzi."
Attempts at afternoon mediation are futile. The thoughts in his head are wild curls of wind whistling atop mountain peaks, unfettered and blustery. They are not the careful calligraphic strokes he had become accustomed to, a well-known path of ink and paper he can press weight into without unfurling.
His hands move without noticing, calling Wangji into his lap. The instrument's wood gleams beneath his gentle touch, feeling silk strings settle into familiar calluses on his fingertips. This is not the only guqin he has ever had but it is the only one he will ever need. It is embedded in his soul, to lose it would be to lose his very essence.
He's been working on a new piece and despite a great deal of time spent practicing, it is still not as refined and polished as it should be. The melody wasn't right, the bridge too disjointed and unwieldy.
A knock on the wooden door frame adds a discordant rhythm to the piece and irritation stirs in his chest, "Yes?"
"Apologies for disturbing you, Lan-ergongzi. Jiang Wanyin requests that you join him in the reception hall. A messenger arrived with urgent news."
His trip to the main hall is much slower this time, walking at his usual pace rather than at a run.
The man is dressed in pale greens, identifying him as a neutral messenger, not affiliated with any of the major clans. His hair is pulled fully up into a travelling bun, the guan carved of warm rosewood. Kindness and inner beauty crowned upon his head. Interesting choice for a messenger.
Jiang Wanyin challenges him the moment his foot crosses the threshold, "Lan-ergongzi, for some reason my sister insisted that you be present for this. Don't make me regret it." He turns to the messenger, "Speak."
"Jiang-zongzhu, Lan-ergongzi, I bring news that Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu are dead."
"What? By who? The Jins?"
"They do not know. Their bodies were flayed by some type of weapon. The wounds are too thin to have been from any known sword, unless it was incredibly sharp."
The gash on his cheek stings abruptly and he barely resists reaching up to touch it. Could Wei Ying have done it? No, his injuries were too severe to have killed both Wen Chao and Zhuliu singlehandedly. And Wei Ying still had his core, right? Zhuliu would have melted it before Wei Ying even had a chance to strike. Wangji hadn't checked for the man's blinding core, assuming it would take an ocean to drown its light.
"Jin-zongzhu, Zewu-jun, and Chifeng-zun have all been summoned to Lotus Pier to discuss the situation as the Sunshot Campaign still fights."
"They will arrive in two days time. You're dismissed, qianbei."
Turning to follow the messenger out, Wangji's eyes catch on the hastily repaired building around him. Falsely put together, barely holding on, just enough to look safe.
"We haven't had much time to rebuild." Jiang Wanyin begins without realising. Wangji stops in his tracks and turns around. "Going from the massacre directly into the midst of a war has not afforded us a great deal of time for reconstruction efforts."
There's a pause, as heavy as fallen snow. The Jiang man grinds his teeth, "Lan-ergongzi, I would appreciate it if you would not mention our disagreement in the courtyard to any members of the clans. I'm afraid your brother already holds a certain dislike towards me and I need not add to it. You will be allowed to remain in Lotus Pier."
"Mn."
Wei Ying is still asleep when he returns to the chambers in the evening, curled up against the back of the bed. It doesn't look comfortable, it looks… protective. As if hiding himself from something - someone - and Wangji supposes, he probably is. The man had just returned from who knows where, having been through who knows what. The darkness had followed him home, pervasive even in his sleep.
Wangji feels out of control of his body, he's never felt this way, not this strongly. He can't stop himself from laying down beside the man despite simultaneously reciting dozens of Lan rules that tell him otherwise. The bed is just enough for each of them to not touch, but his heart aches to reach out and grab the man's warm hand.
No, no. He scolds himself, biting in the inside of his cheek to break his head out of this thought. Because he knows he won't be able to stop himself ever again if he allows himself this once. He will not touch the man without his consent, even something as simple as this.
With the steady cadence of Wei Ying's breath as a lullaby, he finally sleeps.
He is vastly more aware when he wakes, launching himself out of bed as he realises what has transpired. A soft thump behind him has him looking down to see a forehead ribbon laying abandoned. His hand moves on instinct, sweeping to pick the sacred item from the floor. But attempts to tie it back into its place faces resistance. He tracks the white silk from his hand back towards the bed and...
Wei Ying is holding his ribbon. It's clutched in his hand, having grasped ahold of it in sleep. Did he not know of its importance? That day in the Cold Pond Cave, he knew, right?
Wangji cannot free the fabric from the man's hand who has it woven through his fingers but he cannot leave the chambers without it. So once more, he settles down to practice the new guqin piece in the quiet of the early morning.
To an outsider, it probably sounds perfect. But to his ears, something just isn't quite right with it. He doesn't get far in trying to root out that problem before there's a knock on the door.
Jiang-guniang's voice is muffled as she asks to enter. He is half-dressed, hair undone, and forehead bare.
He moves to stand just behind the still-closed door, "My apologies, Jiang-guniang but I am not fully dressed and it would be improper."
"I understand. I do not mean to disturb your morning, Lan-ergongzi. I merely came by to invite both of you to a midday meal. A-Xian's favourite soup has been cooking all night and I would very much enjoy your presence with him."
"I would be honoured. Wei Yi-Wuxian has spoken very highly of your cooking prowess."
Wangji can hear the smile in the woman's voice as she instructs him where to find her later. There's a pause where he thinks for a moment she has gone but her voice, delicate and quiet, filters in, "You have saved him, Lan-ergongzi. I do not think you realise just how much."
His stomach twists painfully at the words, reminding him of how they had survived the Xuanwu cave, of the shameful way he left without a goodbye, and of how far they had fallen since.
He had not saved Wei Ying. He had only prolonged the wound.
And he would spend the rest of his life trying to heal it.
1) Rosewood is commonly used to symbolize kindness and inner beauty. It was popular among the social elites in dynastic China as a status symbol due to its rarity and use in the imperial palace.