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 Six
Lan Wangji stirs naturally at mao shi, confused by the feeling of someone against him at first. Wei Ying is still curled in his arms, his face pressed against his chest, one hand fisted in his robes.
When he tries to disentangle himself, it's more difficult than expected. He finds Wei Ying's other hand is clinging to a lock of his hair, and both fists tighten at the movement.
Then Wei Ying stirs, jerking back immediately and yelping, "Dog!" as though still trapped in his panic of the night before.
Lan Wangji finds himself pulled part way with him, as Wei Ying neglects to release his hair.
"Eliminated, Wei Ying," he says softly, watching the bleariness of sleep slowly fade from his eyes.
Thankfully, the remnants of last night's panic fade with it, and Wei Ying lets go of his hair, wincing in sympathy as he realizes he's pulled it.
"Sorry," he murmurs.
"There is no need, between us," Lan Wangji gently reminds him. "I did not realize you were afraid of dogs."
Wei Ying flinches, and he realizes the fear is strong enough that he reacts to just the word.
"Wei Ying?"
He keeps his tone soft, a request, but one that can be ignored if he so wishes. Instead Wei Ying sighs, and reaches down to pull up a leg of his trousers, revealing flesh marred by old scars.
"The other one is the same," he says. "And they go higher. Living on the streets means fighting dogs for food. You learn pretty quick they're mean."
"How long?" Lan Wangji asks, trying to keep the horror from his voice.
Wei Ying shrugs, rolling his trousers back down.
"I don't remember. A few years. I didn't keep much track of time. Too young when my parents died, and no one really knows exactly when that was."
He can see Wei Ying shiver, and wraps the blanket around him.
"It's only mao," he tells him. "You can sleep longer."
That gets a grimace. "Not likely to sleep. Even if you got rid of that damn thing. I'm surprised it didn't give me nightmares."
"Of your childhood?"
Lan Wangji knew he had cried out about dogs in his fevered sleep, but that was during a fever. Though, perhaps, after trauma…
Wei Ying shakes his head.
"I never told you. In Nightless City, when Wen Chao took me for 'questioning'..."
He trails off, his mouth a thin line, and draws the blanket around him tighter.
"When I didn't have information on the missing Yin Iron he put me in qi-suppressing chains and tossed me in the dungeon, in a cell with a very hungry dog. So big its teeth were level with my face."
Wei Ying smiles, but it's without mirth.
"Said if I was still alive in the morning, all would be forgiven."
Given what had happened only hours ago, Lan Wangji doubts Wei Ying, even with his qi, could have fought effectively. Wen Chao wouldn't have known of his crippling fear, but had not expected him to survive regardless.
He remembers that morning, the blood on Wei Ying's skin, the rips in his clothing, and his show of flippancy. But he also remembers he had been quieter after that, putting on a mask of carelessness, but also careful to toe the line.
Suddenly Wei Ying's fear of dogs in the delirium of fever has a new context.
"You survived," Lan Wangji comments.
Wei Ying laughs shortly.
"Only thanks to Wen Ning. He knocked it out with needles, and gave me energy boosting medicine and herbs to stop the bleeding. I was able to save some of the herbs. That's why I had them in the cave."
For a moment, silence stretches between them, and Lan Wangji reflects on the scene Wei Ying had caused at the banquet, his anger and grief at Qiongpi Path. Wen Ning, who had also saved Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao after the fall of Lotus Cove, who had sheltered them.
Wen Ning, who the Jins and many of the other sects would, and had, happily killed. Just as, he suspects, they would Wei Ying, particularly with the prize of the Stygian Tiger Seal. Jin Guangshan's obsession with it bothers Lan Wangji, with his zhiji now unprotected by a sect, alienated from the cultivation world.
"I would have died in that dungeon," Wei Ying comments, "a warning to all of you to behave, if he hadn't stepped in."
Lan Wangji tries not to imagine it, but he can, all too easily. Instead of Wei Ying joining the line at indoctrination and complaining of hunger and boasting of his glorious scars, his corpse being dragged to be dumped in front of them.
Wei Ying's death would have crushed him, he thinks. With his brother missing and father and uncle injured, his sect decimated, the promise to Lan Yi broken… to lose Wei Ying at that point would have destroyed what was left of his sanity.
Lan Wangji, too, owes a tremendous debt to Wen Ning.
"But maybe they wouldn't have attacked Lotus Pier, then."
It's barely a whisper, one so filled with grief and guilt Lan Wangji is reaching for his arm, gripping it through the blanket, before he realizes it, imaginings of Wei Ying's bloody body in various states of brokenness on the steps of Nightless City haunting his mind. He can feel the tension in his body, as though Wei Ying is on the verge of shattering.
"Wei Ying. They would have attacked regardless."
"They were just going to make it a supervisory office at first. If I was punished."
Lan Wangji isn't sure he wants to know what that entailed, but he asks anyway.
"Punished?"
Wei Ying shrugs. "My hand. It would've prevented the massacre. I think Madam Yu was going to do it, too. But then they mentioned Lotus Cove becoming the supervisory office."
He feels a chill at the idea of Wei Ying mutilated like that, of having never heard him play the dizi, of the pain he would have accepted for the sake of others. This image, so quickly on the heels of the previous… He knows Wei Ying would have given his core anyway, even with such an injury.
"Wei Ying, they only would have started with your hand," he says softly. "They would have come back and wanted more."
He receives no response, and he knows nothing he says will convince Wei Ying that the fall of Lotus Pier, the deaths of the disciples and Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, perhaps even the war itself… None of it was his fault. Worse, he knows Wei Ying would feel any loss on his part would be acceptable, that Wei Ying always feels thus.
But he can't help himself, and can only try anyway.
"You lost enough in the war, Wei Ying. Wen Ruohan was to blame for the fall of Lotus Pier, not you. Likely he was only defeated because of your contribution and sacrifices."
Wei Ying had been avoiding looking at him, but his gaze lifts to meet his finally. His eyes shine as though he is on the verge of tears, and there's a tightness in his jaw. He had this look months ago, during the hunt when Jiang Yanli defended him publicly against the ugly accusations of Jin Zixun. He truly isn't used to being defended, to being valued.
Lan Wangji takes a moment to collect himself, to find words.
"I wish you had not suffered as much as you did. I wish you did not suffer still. You do not deserve to suffer, Wei Ying."
Normally he would expect Wei Ying to be flippant, to make light of everything, but for once his zhiji has let himself be open. Lan Wangji can only hope it means he has regained his trust, but it could simply be the early hour and weariness following the panic of the dog spirit.
"'A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up.'" He tightens his hold on his arm. "You cannot shoulder the burdens of the world yourself. Let me help you."
Silence stretches between them for a short while.
"Lan Zhan, do you think you can help me?"
A year ago, the question would have been asked in a hard voice, defensive. Now, Wei Ying's voice is so small, as though he wonders if anyone can help him. It tears at Lan Wangji, reminds him of how very late he is, reminds him of when he asked Wei Ying to let him help before, and failed to see it through.
He can find no words to answer; instead, he decides to let his guqin speak, let the music speak, and hope his zhiyin truly understands. He lets go of Wei Ying's arm and manifests his guqin, begins the gentle melody of "WuJi."
Wei Ying relaxes by increments as he plays, easing to lean back against the wall of the cave. Lan Wangji runs through the song twice, then stills the strings, dismisses the instrument, and waits quietly.
"I remember where I heard that now," Wei Ying says, breaking the silence left in the wake of the music. "The cave. After we fought the Xuanwu. You sang for me."
"Yes. You were ill from your injuries, from infection."
Wei Ying hums softly, his eyes closed as though remembering.
"I think I asked what it was called, but I don't remember the answer. I must have passed out."
So he truly hadn't heard; his behavior upon his reappearance had been unconnected to what Lan Wangji had thought was his confession.
"You were delirious with fever," he tells him, hedging. "Do you know the significance of the Lan forehead ribbon?"
Wei Ying frowns at him, clearly confused by what appears to him to be a change of subject, peering at him through the dusky gloom of the cave.
"Something about restraint. No one's supposed to touch it."
Lan Wangji sighs softly.
"'To regulate oneself,' more precisely. Only family and cultivation partners are permitted to touch it."
There's a minute change in Wei Ying's expression, but he can't quite see well enough in the dim lighting to tell what it is. He pulls a talisman from his sleeve and activates it, lighting the candles that line the cave on small juts in the stone.
"Do you remember the Cold Spring cave?" he asks, pressing on, watching his face.
Wei Ying is silent, but his brows knot. It takes less than a minute for him to realize, his lips parting in shock.
"We bowed," Wei Ying whispers, his voice hoarse. "That was a handfasting? I didn't know. You never said."
Lan Wangji doesn't know how to reply, so says nothing.
"Why didn't you?" Wei Ying looks confused now. "It's not… We never… You can have it annulled."
He tries to find the words, anything that would help him convey what he means, but speaking is not his forte, especially with Wei Ying trying to point out the marriage is technically not valid because it was never consummated, which isn't the path his mind needs to embark on at the moment.
"I did not wish to," Lan Wangji finally says. "I still do not."
Wei Ying stares at him, looking frozen, as though the words have paralyzed him. He still looks confused, uncertain. Lan Wangji returns to the music.
"The title of the song is 'WuJi.'"
Wei Ying's reaction is a small intake of air, almost a gasp. Emotions flit across his face too fast to decipher, before he hides it in the blanket.
"Lan Zhan."
His voice is muffled and rough.
"I can't cultivate to immortality anymore, Lan Zhan. The resentful energy… you were right, when you said it harms the body and mind. I don't know if I'll even… if I'll even have a mediocre lifespan. I'll leave you."
Nowhere in what he has said, Lan Wangji realizes, is a rejection. Rather, it's an attempt to convince him that Wei Ying isn't good enough, isn't worthy. To remind him that Wei Ying accepted a shorter lifespan and pain to help his brother. As though his selflessness would ever make him unworthy.
Lan Wangji reaches out, grasps Wei Ying's arm under the blanket again. It is still painful to be reminded of the fleeting time they'll have, but at the same time it makes what he has to say more important, makes the idea of wasting any more devastating.
"Then I will find you again in your next life, and every life thereafter if necessary," he promises.
He recognizes the sound Wei Ying makes in response as a choked sob, and pulls him close, into his arms.
"You deserve better," Wei Ying mumbles against him, still hiding his face. "I'm not—"
"Wei Ying," he interrupts, not willing to hear his zhiji put himself down. "I want only you."
Wei Ying's breath hitches, and he finally looks up, his face wet, his lips trembling. Lan Wangji abandons decorum, reaching to card one hand in the hair below his ear, curling his fingers at the nape of his neck, and leaning in to kiss him.
This first kiss is clumsy, as he isn't quite sure what one is supposed to do with one's lips, and it doesn't seem Wei Ying is entirely clear on it either—but Wei Ying is reciprocating. He's reciprocating, and Lan Wangji's heart sings with the understanding that this is truly not rejection.
When he pulls back, Wei Ying looks startled, flushed, maybe even shy. But he doesn't seem to be crying anymore, which Lan Wangji counts as a win.
He finds himself relieved when Wei Ying softly teases him, that he's moved away from the brooding and seriousness that has plagued him since they woke. He's been pulled out of his melancholy depression, and there's a kind of power there—Lan Wangji did that.
"You stole my first kiss," he murmurs, his voice almost coy. "You'll have to take responsibility."
"Mm," he agrees. "I did when we were fifteen."
Wei Ying's startled laugh is like music to him, and he pulls him gently down onto the pallet to kiss him more.
All else can wait.
AND THEY WERE HUSBANDS. I've been thinking about this chapter for a couple weeks now. Glad it's finally written.
"A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up" is a Chinese proverb I felt fit in this situation.