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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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An Imperfectly Remembered Life, Ch. 2

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (as Mo Xuanyu at first)

Tags: Modern AU, Plenty of OOC Moments, Memory Loss, Grief, (Mentions of) Alcoholism, Some Physical Violence (eventually), The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Hidden Identity, Found Family, Fake Marriage, Story Told Partially Through Flashback

Summary: Mo Xuanyu didn't know when he took the internship at one of the largest companies in the city that he'd be running into a face he'd thought (hoped) he'd never see again. Filled with regret and guilt over the accident, and a dark secret about his life before the Jiang family took him in, Wei Wuxian can only hope that Lan Wangji doesn't recognize him and that he can survive the internship unscathed.

This Mo Xuanyu sparks traces of memory in Lan Wangji the day he shows up to start his internship. He can't place the too-familiar face and it bothers him, though he tries to deny the familiarity. But the more it eats at him, the harder it is to ignore the dark haired man with the easy smile that keeps reminding him of something... something important... something that's been missing...

Title from this quote: “An imperfectly remembered life is a useless treachery. Every day, more fragments of the past roll around heavily in the chambers of an empty brain, shedding bits of color, a sentence or a fragrance, something that changes and then disappears. It drops like a stone to the bottom of the cave.” ― Barbara Kingsolver, The Lacuna

Chapter 2 below the cut.

2... The days passed slowly. Mo Xuanyu kept his head down, did his work, and did his utmost not to draw the attention of those around him. He spent his days comparing physical files to digital ones. Leave it to him to show up right as the company was trying to move from the paper age to the computer one, but at least it kept him busy. The more he stayed in one place, the less likely he was to run into people he didn't want to face. In his third week, he started to relax and took a few more chances to get up and visit the break room. They usually had good coffee and pastries in there, he'd found. It was a Thursday and Mo Xuanyu was feeling particularly tired, but with a crying toddler at home, it was expected. He was stirring some sugar and creamer into his cup, yawning as he turned to go back to his desk when he was stopped short by a figure in the doorway. Nearly dropping his cup, Mo Xuanyu took a step back and nodded politely, greeting his manager softly. His eyes darted around for an exit, but Lan Wangji was standing squarely in the door frame, his sharp eyes boring into him. "Good afternoon, sir," he said, licking his lips nervously. "Coffee's fresh if that's what you're here for."

Lan Wangji didn't move, simply continuing to star at him as he fought to keep from fidgeting.

"Sir...?"

"You're Mo, correct? Mo Xuanyu?" Lan Wangji's voice seemed deeper than it had seven years before and Mo Xuanyu swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am. Is there something I can...?"

"You're rather diligent in your work."

"I do what I'm told, Mr. Lan. That's all."

Lan Wangji studied him for a few more moments before stepping fully into the breakroom. Mo Xuanyu suddenly realized no one else was in the room with them and he gripped his coffee cup harder in his hands.

"You'll be joining the other interns for the welcome dinner tomorrow night, correct?"

Lan Wangji was still moving into the room and Mo Xuanyu was running out of space to retreat. When the other finally stopped, he realized that Lan Wangji must have hit another growth spurt in high school because there were at least two more inches of height between them. The next thing he noticed was the way Lan Wangji's button down shirt lay across his shoulders and chest, his lack of suit jacket making his fit stature more than obvious. It made Mo Xuanyu a little self-conscious in his own clothes. He took care of himself, but not to the same extent, apparently.

"I, uh... I haven't decided yet, sir." He cleared his throat, trying to get his vocal cords to calm down. "I'd have to check with... well, I haven't decided. I might, though."

"You should." Stepping around him, Lan Wangji picked up and cup and selected a teabag from a box. "We managers go to great lengths for this dinner."

"Yes, sir. I understand." Mo Xuanyu smiled brightly, nodding his head a few times. "Like I said, I might. It will depend. If you'll excuse me, I'll get back to work."

He made his way across the room, trying not to look like he was running away. He was almost to the door when Lan Wangji's voice stopped him again, halting his steps immediately. Mo Xuanyu turned enough to look over his shoulder at his manager.

"Mo Xuanyu." Lan Wangji still had his own back turned toward him, his neat braid hanging neatly against the middle of his shirt. "I expect to see you there. Despite whatever excuses you might make."

Mo Xuanyu made some sort of noise in response, remembering well how that tone always had him doing whatever Lan Wangji told him to do in high school. Though mostly he used it to force him to study properly for exams. Clearing his throat, he gave a light affirmative and continued his escape back to his desk.

When he arrived home that night, Mo Xuanyu sat in his car for a few minutes. He was tired, but he knew relaxing was not in the cards for him. Letting out a breath, he got out and headed into the little house, a bright smile already on his face.

"Uncle 'Anu!"

Mo Xuanyu barely had time to drop his bag on the floor before his arms were filled with squirming three year old boy. Sticky kisses were planted on his cheeks and he laughed, feeling much of his days stress melting as he carried the child into the living room.

"A'Yuan, what is all over your cheeks?" he asked, shifting him to one arm so he could poke at the mess on the boy’s face.

"He just finished a popsicle." Wen Ning stepped out of the kitchen, a wet cloth in his hand. "I was trying to clean him up when he heard you coming in. Sorry."

Mo Xuanyu smiled, shaking his head as he held A'Yuan still so Wen Ning could wipe his hands and face. A'Yuan fussed and wiggled, but in the end the two of them were able to get most of the mess off of him.

"Popsicle before dinner?" Mo Xuanyu eyed Wen Ning with a teasing smile. "I'm guessing your sister isn't home yet?"

Wen Ning's cheeks colored and he fidgeted, his hands gesturing helplessly.

"He's been a good boy today," he said, his voice stuttering a little. "Took his nap like a champ and ate all of his lunch. I didn't think it would hurt. Please, don't tell my sister."

Mo Xuanyu laughed, reaching out his free hand to grip Wen Ning's shoulder, giving him a soft shake.

"It's alright. I won't. It will be just between us, as long as A'Yuan doesn't tell." He gave another shake to get a little smile out of his brother-in-law.

"Let me get changed and I'll watch him while you get dinner started. Alright?"

Wen Ning nodded and took A'Yuan, hushing his fussing as Mo Xuanyu went back to the front hall to collect his bag and went upstairs to his bedroom to change out of his suit. There was a large sticky handprint on the shoulder now, so he put it aside to go to the cleaners.

Settling onto the edge of his bed, he tugged the elastic band from his hair, letting it fall around his neck and shoulders. Sighing, he ran a hand through it, giving it a shake before bringing his hand to his lap. Lan Wangji's voice had stirred so many memories, so many moments in time that he had forced himself to not think about in the last years. Memories he didn't deserve.

***

Wei Wuxian was the last person to step into the classroom, the fingers of his right hand twirling a pen deftly between long fingers. Dark eyes skimmed the room, ignoring the curious looks he was being given. He was no stranger to being the new kid in class, spending much of his childhood moving from place to place with his parents. He'd long since gotten used to it.

His eyes lit up as he found an open seat near the back and he headed for it. Dropping into the hard plastic chair, he set his books down and looked to his left and right. On one side, a girl was immersed in her phone, ignoring the world. To the other, a guy with long black hair sat ramrod straight, already reading the chapter of their textbook. Wei Wuxian snorted and shifted, turning toward him and forgetting the girl.

"Hey. I'm Wei Wuxian." He held his hand out across the aisle. "It's my first day. What do they call you?"

There was a brief moment where the other guy didn't move, his eyes continuing to skim the lines printed on the page. Wei Wuxian's smile began to fade and he was just about to withdraw his hand when he moved. Closing the book, the long haired boy turned enough to reach out and grasp Wei Wuxian's hand, the grip surprisingly firm as their eyes met.

"Lan Wangji."

Wei Wuxian was caught off guard by the voice, more-so than he was by the strength of the handshake. His smile brightened and he gave a squeeze before releasing the hand in his own.

"Lan Wangji. Nice to meet you. Do you always just read the textbook?"

Lan Wangji's eyebrow twitched minutely and he turned back to the book.

"I like to be prepared."

“On the first day? Wait, don’t tell me you read them during the breaks. Do you?”

There was a twitch in Lan Wangji's eyebrow again and he made a sound that Wei Wuxian took as an affirmative.

"But... why?"

Lan Wangji glanced at him, a tiny frown pulling the corners of his lips down for a moment. Instead of answering, he turned his attention back to the book, carefully turning the page. Wei Wuxian laughed and sat straight in his seat again, fingers twirling the pen once more.

"Suit yourself."

He barely paid attention when the class started, following along only enough to look the part, but he spent more time doodling on his notebook paper and casting glances at Lan Wangji to his right. He was intrigued by the guy, in the way he kept up, the way he never slouched, and although he looked smart as hell and probably knew the material, he never raised his hand to answer a question. Shifting, he looked over at the notes Lan Wangji was taking and was not surprised in the slightest by the immaculate handwriting.

When the bell rang, Lan Wangji was packed and out the door quickly, leaving Wei Wuxian laughing in his wake. As he made his way into the hall to his next class, Wei Wuxian realized he really wanted to be friends with Lan Wangji.

***

Mo Xuanyu shook himself from his thoughts and began unbuttoning his shirt. He was just hanging it on the closet door when there was a knock at the door and Wen Qing let herself in. He gave her a smile and a nod, continuing his efforts to change his clothes by tugging off the white T-shirt he wore beneath the dress shirt.

"Welcome home," he said, tugging his belt free from his pants. "How was your day?"

Wen Qing sat on the bed with a shrug. She was still wearing her scrubs, but she'd unpinned part of her hair.

"Same as ever. Too many people coming to the emergency room lacking emergencies." She shrugged again, reaching to pull more pins from her head. "It was quiet, at least. Yours?"

Wei Wuxian finished changing, pulling on sweatpants and a dark T-shirt before he responded.

"I need to ask you a huge favor," he said, turning to face her. "Mo Xuanyu needs his wife tomorrow night. Do you think you can free yourself up for a few hours?"

Wen Qing smiled and raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

"What happened?"

Mo Xuanyu went to the other side of the bed and flopped down onto it, groaning as he rubbed his face.

"I've been told I have to attend the dinner tomorrow night. The one I told you about last week. Lan Wangji cornered me and basically told me I have to show up." He turned his head as Wen Qing laid back beside him, giving her his best pout. "I can bring a plus one. Will you please try to come with me?"

She looked back at him and considered it quietly.

"I know you work the night shift tomorrow and it would cut into your sleep," he went on quickly. "And you know I'll make it up to you, but I just really need you to be there. Mo Xuanyu needs his wife."

"You're really shaken by this, aren't you?" she asked softly after a few more moments of letting him squirm.

"Shaken... maybe." Mo Xuanyu sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "But if he remembers... I just need a reason to not speak to him. Or anyone, really. And you're better at the social thing than I am. I tend to make an idiot of myself. I need you there to keep me from being stupid."

Wen Qing laughed, reaching over to pat his arm before sitting up. "Fine. I'll go with you for a few hours, but I have to leave by eight thirty to make my nine o'clock shift. And you owe me big." Rising from the bed, she turned to face him, hands propped on her hips. "I'll figure out your payment later. Right now, I'm going to take a shower before dinner. Go play with A'Yuan so he lets go of A'Ning's leg."

She left the room, but Mo Xuanyu stayed put on the bed for a little longer. He was beyond grateful for Wen Qing and all that she'd done for him in the last few years. She knew some of his past, but only enough to understand his current situation. But she was loyal and solid, and he really could have done worse. Far worse. It took him another minute or two before he got up and went back downstairs, greeting A'Yuan's delighted greeting with a laugh and a smile.

***

Mo Xuanyu was back on full alert in the office the following day. He kept his head moving any time he was away from his desk, trying hard not to get snuck up on again. It was stressful, but he was enjoying his work and he really didn't want to leave it. Not yet, anyway. This city was a far cry from his family and that part of his life he was trying to avoid, much less think about. He took his lunch in the breakroom, facing the door. He had a book on the table to make himself look distracted if he needed to, but he mostly picked at the container of leftovers from dinner the night before.

Just as he was giving up on eating and putting the lid back on, a familiar figure appeared in the door. Mo Xuanyu couldn't reach for the book without dropping the food container, so he froze as Lan Wangji crossed the room to make his cup of tea. God, the man had not changed the tiniest bit in almost eight years. It was almost infuriating, but he had no right or reason to be angry.

He was still sitting there staring when Lan Wangji turned and spotted him. There was that subtle twitch in his eyebrow before he approached the table and took a seat, setting his cup down quietly.

"Did you decide?" he asked, his voice as flat as ever, though his gaze was sharp.

"Huh?" Mo Xuanyu twitched and blinked. "Oh... right. I did." He busied himself packing his lunch away, refusing to look up as he did so. "I'll be there tonight. I'm bringing a guest, since we were told we could."

"Oh? Who, if I may ask?"

"Um... my w-wife." He glanced up with a smile. "She said she'd like to meet the people I work with, so she's going to join me before she goes to work tonight."

"Wife?" Lan Wangji's expression shifted subtly for a moment and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, it will be nice to meet her."

"I'll be sure to introduce you. Excuse me, please."

Mo Xuanyu grabbed up his things and hurried away, leaving Lan Wangji at the table with his steeping cup of tea and his thoughts.

Mo Xuanyu's file didn't mention that he was married. That portion was left blank. Probably an oversight on the man's part. For some reason, the thought that Mo Xuanyu was married irked something in his mind. He turned his head, catching a last glimpse of dark hair as the man exited the breakroom. Letting out a soft breath, Lan Wangji did his best to push the feelings away. There was no reason to feel that way, he had no idea why he was even bothered. Taking his tea, he returned to his office to prepare for his afternoon meeting.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mxtx #mxtx fanfic #mo xiang tong xiu #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei ying #wei wuxian #mo xuanyu #wen qing #wen ning #a'yuan #wen yuan

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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Winter's Heart and Summer's Smile, Ch. 2

Fandom: 河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021) / 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers

Ship: Zhou Zishu/Han Ying, Zhou Zishu/Wen Kexing (Zhen Yan)

Summary: Zhou Zishu has spent enough winters alone on the mountain. He's ready to join the world and shed his immortality. Echoing his path from what seems a lifetime ago, he gives himself three years to experience what the world of man has become, reclaiming the name of Zhou Xu once again. He has become cold and distant, indifferent to everything, but soon he is meeting familiar faces, sensing familiar souls gathering around him. Try as he might, he cannot avoid what fate is giving him, though he isn't sure if he should be grateful or not, especially when feelings flare between himself and the subordinate of his past life. Confusion and acceptance battle

Until the day he meets a strange, and strangely familiar, man with hair as white as snow.

Can the reborn Wen Kexing, now Zhen Yan again, thaw the ice that has surrounded Zhou Zishu's heart for hundreds of years? Can Zhou Zishu accept this reincarnation that is so different from his Lao Wen?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2...

8 Months Later

Of all the things Zishu had trouble adjusting to, it was the fashion. Up on the mountain, he still wore his robes, kept his hair long with the half-pony and decorative accessories or a pin. Now, he wore jeans and shirts, shoes with laces instead of his soft boots. Everything seemed fitting and tight compared to what he'd spent his existence wearing, a sensation he was still getting used to. He found he liked suits, though, when he had the occasion to wear one. A few simple rings and a silver bracelet replaced the pieces he'd worn in his hair, along with the silver chain around his neck, the tiny opal stone hanging from it carved in the shape of what looked like an opened paper fan. He'd been passing one of the many stalls that people set up on the street to sell trinkets to tourists a month or so ago when he'd spotted it. Something had made him go back and buy it, spending a little more than he'd meant to that day, but he couldn't help himself. He'd acted on impulse and a deep yearning that had cried out to him. Standing in the tiny bathroom of his tiny apartment, Zishu held the pendant between his fingers, studying his reflection in the mirror. He looked so different in his own eyes, especially in these clothes. Sighing, he tucked the pendant beneath the shirt he wore for his job and picked up his hairbrush. In the first few weeks of coming down from the mountain, Zishu had cut his hair. It fell just short of his shoulders now instead of the middle of his back. It had taken a long time to get used to and even now, his reflection startled him sometimes. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he quickly tucked it back into a short ponytail at the base of his skull, tucking the shorter pieces behind his ears. Leaving the bathroom, Zishu sat on the couch to put on his shoes. His living space was sparse with only a few pieces of furniture in it, enough to suit his individual needs. He had a few pieces of cheap art on the walls for color, nothing he was particularly attached to but it made the place feel a little more hospitable. He never had company, so he didn't really care to do too much with it. He existed within these walls, that was all.

Glancing toward his closed bedroom door, Zishu thought about the only two items in the world that he treasured more than anything that were hidden behind it. His sword and Lao Wen's jade hair pin were all he'd brought down with him, and both were hidden in the back of the closet, wrapped in a blanket and kept out of sight. He took them out now and then, polishing the blade and sheathe and simply holding the pin. It had meant so much the day Wen Kexing had taken it from his own hair and slipped it into Zhou Zishu's, a promise and a show of trust. Zishu had made sure to retrieve it as soon as he was able, happy that it had not been broken in the avalanche that had buried the armory entrance. He had thought to bury it with Wen Kexing, but in the end he'd simply wrapped it up and kept it safely hidden within his clothing. Now, it rested with Baiyi, within reach but out of sight the majority of the time. He must be in a sentimental mood today. Frowning, he grabbed his wallet and keys, leaving the apartment without a backward glance. Zishu had always been in intelligent man; he'd always known how to survive. That in part had been why he'd made so many trips down from the mountain in the years before leaving it completely. He'd come to observe and learn, to make the plans he would need to get by. In these times when everything was loud and fast and colorful, he'd been overwhelmed at first, nearly terrified when he walked the streets of the city, uncomfortable in the clothes he'd donned to blend in. But each visit after had become easier and he'd learned quickly what he had to do. He managed to find some people who could help him in exchange for a few of the relics from the armory, a deal that had been hard to make with these particular people though he'd convinced them in the end. By the time he entered the city for good, he'd had an entire life that wasn't his mapped out from birth to present. Documents and identification cards had been handed to him, as well as currency to get him started. It had all been very strange and oddly surreal, leaving Zishu wondering just how in the hell he'd managed to get what he needed without much explanation. He wasn't stupid, though. He made sure what he paid far exceeded their help, leaving them little need to seek him out for further compensation, but keeping enough credit that he could use them again if needed. Zhou Zishu was once again calling himself Zhou Xu and was the ripe young age of 25. Xu had a hometown, parents, school reports, a lifetime of 'memories' to his name, everything. The finer details were his own to decide, but on the surface he was legitimate. Zishu wasn't close to anyone, though, so no one really asked too many questions of him. The job he worked at the convenience store down the way from his apartment had been set up for him as well, helpfully avoiding the question part of the process. The manager of the store wasn't a nosey man, thankfully, and they and the other two men that worked the store got along well enough. It helped the days pass, at least.

> The crowded sidewalks didn't bother him so much anymore, his cloud step skills still sharp as he moved through the mass of people, avoiding touching anyone around him. He kept his eyes forward as he went, ignoring the appreciative glances he got from the majority of people, men and women alike it seemed. From what he'd observed, people were far more open with their affections and attractions, so the looks he received didn't bother him in the least. Besides, others had looked at him all his life. None of them were his Lao Wen, though, so it didn't matter. They meant very little to him. The walk to his job was short and as usual he blinked hard when he stepped into the brightly lit building. The fluorescent lights stung his eyes until he adjusted as he made his way to the back to punch in for his shift. Five in the evening until two in the morning was relatively quiet after at least seven, so he spent his time reading history books and learning new languages. One of his coworkers teased him a little, but Zishu only said he enjoyed learning before going back to the page he was on. He wasn't unkind to the others, just indifferent, and they left him alone for the most part. Zhou Zishu didn't want to make friends if he could help it. His mission was simple and streamlined. He knew his own endgame and he would not let anything deviate him from that path. Not again. He was leaving this world at the end of this, no questions asked. That was that.

> Nearing midnight, Zishu was behind the cash register, seated on a stool and engrossed in a book about World War II when the door chime sounded. Marking the page, he stowed the book and got to his feet. A warm breeze blew in through the open door in the few moments it took them to slide back together, ruffling papers that were posted around the check out stand. "Welcome," he called out, smoothing his shirt out as he looked up to greet the customer. "If I can help with..." He stopped, staring outright at the man moving through the building toward the drink coolers. Zishu's heart thundered in his ears and nostalgia washed over him, causing his skin to tingle along his arms and neck. Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he quickly closed it and swallowed hard. No... no, I'm seeing things, he thought, rubbing his eyes with his fingers before looking again. It can't be. It couldn't be. It's not possible. How is it him? He looks exactly the same! Zishu was still staring when the man approached him, a few bottles of water and a bag of gummy candies in his hand. Seeing the expression on Zishu's face, he frowned a little, tilting his head. Meeting his gaze, Zishu was so very close to absolutely certain that what was behind those dark eyes really was who he felt it to be. "Are you alright?" he asked, setting the items down. "What? Oh... sorry." Grabbing for the bottles, Zishu forced himself to look away and focus on his task. "I'm fine." Relaxing, the man pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket. "Okay. You just looked like you'd seen a ghost." "I thought I did," Zishu replied, but didn't look up again. "You look like someone I knew a long time ago. I apologize for staring like that." "It's fine. As long as you're alright." Zishu nodded and told them customer his total, giving his change and receipt quickly. He only looked up again when the man turned to leave, smiling a little when he glanced back and gave a short wave. Then, he was gone into the night. "Han Ying..." Zishu whispered, falling back onto the stool, clutching at the place over his heart. "Han Ying. Is it you? Is it really you?" On the trail of that wonder came another thought, painful and unbidden from the recesses of his mind. If Han Ying has been reborn... then... who else... who else...? He fought to shove it away, to steel himself against the thought, the hope and desire for it. It wasn't possible. Even this moment felt impossible. Han Ying. So many hundreds of lifetimes later and Han Ying was in front of him again. Alive. Breathing, living, alive. Calling out to his coworker where he was cleaning up some of the shelves, Zishu fled to the back so he could sit and think for a while.

#word of honor #word of honor fanfic #zhou zishu #zhou xu #shan he ling #woh #han ying #priest fanfic

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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Fractured, Ch. 3

Gif created by @nyx4

******

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying

Summary: Three months after his disappearance, Wei Wuxian walks out of Burial Mounds, full of malignant power and a thirst for revenge, not only against the Wen clan, but ALL of the clans.

Weeks later, a lost and confused Wei Ying arrives in Yiling with no memory of who he is or where he's been. Worse, he seems to have momentarily lost every skill he's ever learned, leaving him defenseless against anyone mistaking him for Wei Wuxian.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian shows no sign of slowing down in his mission to bring the cultivation world to its knees.

Chapter 3 below the cut.

3...

Wei Ying slept solidly finally a few hours before sunrise. Lan Zhan was exhausted, but he remained awake and vigilant regardless. He would sacrifice a night's sleep to ensure that Wei Ying didn't have more nightmares. Once he was certain the man was fully asleep, he returned to his guqin, but didn't play again. He simply sat before it, meditating to rest his body while remaining alert. When it was fully daylight, he was going to send a message to Xichen, though he wasn't sure how he would explain the situation.

How was he going to explain the man sleeping in his bed here at the inn, this man who was an exact doppelganger for Wei Wuxian. From his voice to the scar on his chest, down to the tiny beauty mark just beneath his lip. Though he wouldn't admit it, Lan Zhan had found other things that proved Wei Ying's identity while he was trying to clean him up and dressing him. What he could see amidst what looked like repeated beatings, that is. His hands clenched into hard fists against his knees, his jaw clenching hard. He'd love to find whoever did that to Wei Ying and return the favor.

Lan Zhan's eyes snapped open, startled by such a thought. He knew he was breaking a fair number of his sect's rules already, and that was yet another. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Wei Ying where he slept, his chest rising and falling steadily, his fingers twitching where they lay on the blanket that covered him.

It had taken a while to calm him when he'd sprung awake in a panic, clutching at him so fiercely that Lan Zhan feared his robes would be ripped. " Lan... Lan Zhan... Wha... what ha-ha... have I... done?"

He'd had to ask repeatedly what Wei Ying meant by that, but the frightened man hadn't known, or his words failed. There had only been moans and sobbing, incoherent sounds that were probably supposed to be words until even that had run out. Wei Ying had laid in a stupor for a while after that, refusing to let go of his sleeve as he sat on the edge of the bed. Lan Zhan had allowed it, watching him closely. Eventually, Wei Ying's grip loosened and his lips had moved without a sound, but Lan Zhan knew the words. "I'm sorry."

Reaching out, he'd pushed a bit of hair from Wei Ying's face, offering a tiny rare smile to the other.

"Don't be," he said softly. "We will get you better, I promise. Rest, Wei Ying. It will all look better tomorrow."

Obediently, Wei Ying had closed his eyes, sinking into the deep sleep he was now in. Lan Zhan sighed and closed his eyes again, returning to his meditation. Looking at the other had calmed him somehow, soothed the ragged edges of his nerves just enough. He wasn't sure how Wei Ying was here and out there in the world at the same time, but he would find out somehow. First, he had to help Wei Ying find his voice again it seemed.

Lan Zhan left the room quietly once the sun had risen, going downstairs to the innkeeper to order a hot bath, tea, and light foods delivered to his room. He set a gold ingot in front of the man, ensuring that all of his requests would be met as quickly as possible before returning to the room. Wei Ying was sitting up on the edge of the bed, eyes wide as he stared around, clutching at the clothing the was obviously Lan Zhan's.

He visibly relaxed when the other entered the door, letting out a slow breath.

"Wei Ying," he said, closing the door and crossing the room quickly. "Are you alright?"

Wei Ying shook his head, then shrugged one shoulder.

"D... dream..."

"Another nightmare?" He settled beside him on the bed, gently pressing fingers to Wei Ying's wrist, only slightly surprised when the man jerked away.

Frowning, Wei Ying crossed his arms across his stomach, hiding his hands from Lan Zhan as he worked his jaw. Lan Zhan waited patiently, letting him take his time.

"You... you le...ft..." he managed, though it seemed to take more energy than he had.

"I went to order a bath and food for you," Lan Zhan said gently.

Wei Ying shook his head, looking frustrated, reaching up to hit himself in the head a few times. Lan Zhan caught the hand, unsurprised again when Wei Ying pulled away, tucking it back out of sight.

"In your dream?" he offered, earning a nod. "I won't do that, Wei Ying. I won't leave you."

The other looked skeptical, but he nodded again. Lan Zhan couldn't blame him, not with as confused and distraught he seemed to be.

"I mean it," he insisted, laying a gentle hand on Wei Ying's shoulder, outwardly ignoring the flinch though it stabbed at him. "Not without saying and not without assuring you that I'll be back. You have my word." Your word? Wei Ying heard in his head. Haven't you broken that before? When you left Cloud Recesses without me?

Frowning, Wei Ying shifted away from Lan Zhan, wondering where that thought had come from. Everything was foggy in his head, memories a mess of colors and loud sounds. He felt dizzy and made himself stop thinking about it, hating the reactions he was having to his own mind. Closing his eyes, he breathed slowly until the feeling passed. Once he felt a bit steadier, he looked at Lan Zhan again, smiling a little.

"I... I know," he said slowly. "Trust. Trust you." Do you? Do I? Should I?

He ignored the voice in his head, watching as relief briefly colored Lan Zhan's face before he was on his feet, going to answer the knock at the door. Servants filtered in, bringing the tub and buckets of hot water, towels and soaps. Others brought the tea and food, laying it out neatly on the table for them. They moved quickly and efficiently, bowing and leaving before Wei Ying really registered what was happening. Lan Zhan closed the door and returned to him, holding out a hand.

"Come. Eat. Or would you rather bathe first?"

Taking the offered hand, Wei Ying got to his feet, wincing as pain shot through them. Lan Zhan kept him upright with an arm around his waist, sending a familiar tremble through him. He looked up gratefully at the other, smiling again. Looking back and forth between the table and the tub, he pointed to the former first. The food would be fine cold, but the bath would not. Lan Zhan nodded and helped him over to it. They were both only slightly embarrassed as the Lan helped him undress and get into the water. Wei Ying hissed, then groaned as the hot water surrounded him, making every cut and bruise on his body scream.

Gritting his teeth, he waited for it to pass, vaguely aware of Lan Zhan behind him, working his hair free from the mess it was tied up in, deft fingers easing knots out of it gently. Closing his eyes, he focused on that instead, letting it soothe him. By the time it was done, he had become accustomed to the throbbing pain and started to relax.

"Thank you," he whispered, sinking further into the water, his hair floating around him.

Lan Zhan hummed and politely turned away, not that it did much good now, but he still wanted to give Wei Ying something akin to privacy to bathe. He heard splashing as Wei Ying went under the water completely to wet his hair. Sitting at the table, his back to the tub, he poured himself a cup of tea, refusing to eat until Wei Ying joined him. It took some time and lots of scrubbing before Wei Ying felt clean. Some of his bruises were ugly and his hand was still an angry color. He was sure Lan Zhan would have medication for that and he could find something to wrap it up with. Standing up carefully, he used his uninjured hand to wring his hair before stepping out and drying himself carefully. Glancing at his quiet companion, he carefully redressed himself, wrapping one of the towels around his shoulders to keep his wet hair off of the shirt before going to join Lan Zhan.

"Mu... much better..." he said with a nod and a smile, sitting down across from him.

"Mm. Good." Lan Zhan poured another cup of the tea and handed it across the table. "Eat now. You need your strength."

Taking the cup, he saluted with it and took a drink. It was still warm and splashed heavily in his empty stomach, which growled loudly in protest. Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on the blush that fell on Wei Ying's cheeks in response.

As hungry as he was, Wei Ying ate slowly, letting it settle a little at a time until he felt he wouldn't make himself sick. Lan Zhan watched as color returned to Wei Ying's skin, his body already reacting to the nutrients it seemed to need. Even his body language was improving, the tension easing out of his shoulders and neck, his eyes less frantic every time he looked around. Catching himself staring, Lan Zhan looked down at his own bowl, realizing he wasn't really eating much himself.

"Wei Ying," he said softly when the other seemed to be slowing down. "I will need to go out. You need clothes. I will go buy you some."

Blinking, Wei Ying looked down at himself as if realizing he was wearing what was technically underwear. Lifting his gaze again, he laughed for a moment, shaking his head.

"Just..." He stopped, his mouth working again. "Just loan... me yours." Wei Ying looked pleased, gesturing at Lan Zhan. "Don't spend... your money."

He pointed at himself, shrugging as if to say, 'I'm wearing them already anyway.' Lan Zhan stared, his mind rushing to the image of Wei Ying in Lan robes, wrapped in blue and white. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and gave a nod. If that was what Wei Ying wanted right now, he'd broach the subject of purchasing him clothing again later.

It turned out that Lan Zhan's imagination was not on par with reality as soon as Wei Ying was wearing a spare set of his blue and white travel robes. He'd managed to settle them onto his frame in such a way that one wouldn't be able to tell that they were slightly too big for him. He sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting the sleeves a little, a content little smile on his face.

Lan Zhan was still at the table, watching. Wei Ying's hair was still damp in places, still loose and hanging around his face and shoulders in soft waves. Lan Zhan was sure he'd never seen anyone else so beautiful in his life as he openly stared. He was drawn roughly from his musings as Wei Ying hit the floor with his heel, holding his wounded hand out. Clearing his throat again, Lan Zhan launched into action, producing medicine and a cloth, wrapping the hand carefully.

"Is that too tight?" he asked, holding Wei Ying's arm carefully as he made sure the bandage was secure.

"No. It's good." Wei Ying smiled, flexing his fingers. "Thank you."

Lan Zhan looked up from where he crouched in front of Wei Ying, caught by that smile. He'd missed that smile these past months, had dreamed of it over and over as he'd desperately searched for him.

"What?" Wei Ying asked, shifting a little.

Shaking his head, Lan Zhan rose gracefully to his feet and stepped back.

"If you trust me, I'll comb your hair," he offered, unsure why he felt bashful all of the sudden. Wei Ying looked surprised, smiling widely before shaking his head.

"You don't have to," he said with a little effort. "I will manage. Might be... messy... but I can."

Lan Zhan sighed and shook his own head. "I want to. Your hand." He motioned.

Looking down at it, Wei Ying flexed his fingers again, then shrugged. Directing the other back to the table, Lan Zhan spent time combing Wei Ying's long hair until it was fully dry, then styled it in the fashion he knew Wei Ying liked, affixing the red ribbon and leather cuff back into place, the only part of the other's attire that hadn't been damaged or stained somehow. Stepping away, he poured them both more tea, using it as an excuse to keep from looking at Wei Ying for a few moments.

"Thank you," Wei Ying said softly, the words a little easier this time.

Nodding, he handed the cup across the table, their fingers brushing slightly in the exchange. They sat quietly for a time, neither speaking as they enjoyed a comfortable silence. Lan Zhan broke it first, setting his cup down with a sharp thump.

"Wei Ying," he said softly, but firmly. "What happened to you?"

For his part, Wei Ying looked confused, his eyes casting back and forth over the table top as he tried to think, tried to make his thoughts fall into place.

"I don't know," he got out, choking slightly on the syllables. "I don't know. Can't think. Remember." He tapped his temple, looking unhappy. "Messy."

Lan Zhan nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure what he meant. Had something happened to Wei Ying's memories? That seemed likely, given the few words he was managing. Frowning, he found he was disturbed by the fact that Wei Ying was having so many issues with his words. He could tell he knew what he was trying to say, his own frustration evident each time he tried to express himself. What had happened in the months that he was missing? And who was this other person that was with Jiang Cheng?

Studying Wei Ying as he tried to work more words onto his tongue, Lan Zhan decided against telling him about the other Wei Ying... Wei Wuxian... that was with his brother right now, terrorizing Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu.

"Messy," he mumbled, refilling his cup. "Perhaps a head injury?"

Wei Ying shook his head. "No pain. All down." He pointed to his shoulders, then swept his hand downward over the rest of himself. "Head is fine."

Lan Zhan nodded again, looking down at the liquid in his cup. He'd checked for wounds while he'd attended to Wei Ying's hair and had found none, not even the telltale swelling that came with a blow to the head. It was part of why he'd insisted on doing it.

Still, even without there being proof, a head injury was still possible. It could account for lots of things. But Wei Ying's expression was sure, so Lan Zhan was inclined to believe him. It would take time, but all he could do was continue to engage the man in conversation, to coax the words out of him until they were normal on his tongue again. It meant that Lan Zhan would have to do the majority of the talking for a time, but it was yet another sacrifice he would make for Wei Ying.

"How do you feel otherwise?" he asked, looking him over from his place across the table.

Wei Ying frowned a little, tapping his nose.

"Sore." He seemed pleased with the word, then lifted his arms to flex a little. "But good. Tired."

Lan Zhan understood, having seen the damage that had been done to Wei Ying's body up close. He couldn't say much for his internals, though, since he seemed adamant about keeping Lan Zhan away from his pulse points, but his eyes were clear and he didn't seem weakened in any way. So for the moment, Lan Zhan took his friend at his word, letting himself believe it for now.

"Liquor," Wei Ying said suddenly, holding up his tea cup with a bright smile.

Lan Zhan couldn't help the disapproving look that crossed his face.

"Not until you are healed properly," he said firmly.

Wei Ying pouted, propping his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. Lan Zhan held back a smile, holding firm in his denial. Wei Ying's body needed time to rest and heal, his mind needed to remain clear if he was to get his mental cognition back in order. Alcohol would not help. But, oh, how he'd missed even this pouting expression.

"One week," Wei Ying said, daring to look hopeful.

"Two," Lan Zhan countered.

"One and a half."

"Two."

Wei Ying huffed, then sighed. "Fine."

Lan Zhan did smile then, even letting himself chuckle softly. Unlike his run-in with Wei Wuxian, this felt more natural. Other than the obvious, there was nothing off about the Wei Ying before him. He didn't set his nerves on edge and he didn't feel the need to clutch his sword at the ready. The entire feeling of Wei Ying now was very similar to the days only a year past when they'd first met and Lan Zhan's own emotions had gone awry. Lifting his cup, he hid a smile behind it, looking away from Wei Ying again.

Wei Ying retreated when the servants came in and cleared away the dishes and bath, staying on the far side of the room and eyeing them warily. Lan Zhan remained in place, giving them specific times to return with meals and tea, not wanting their unexpected arrival to upset Wei Ying further. He wasn't worried about the other hurting himself or someone else, but he wasn't going to risk it. Wei Ying's trauma seemed to run deep if he was forgoing his usual desire to make friends with everyone in exchange for cautious distance. He only returned once they'd gone, looking sheepish and apologizing. Lan Zhan waved it off and poured another cup of tea.

Over the course of the day, Lan Zhan found topics of conversation to keep them talking, patiently waiting out Wei Ying's bouts of frustration when the words wouldn't come. As the hours passed, Wei Ying was finding it easier, but he was also becoming more tired, his shoulders sagging a little. He retreated to the bed just before their evening meal was brought in, laying with his back to the room. Lan Zhan sighed, rubbing his jaw as he studied Wei Ying's figure. He'd spoken more in this one day that he likely had in an entire month of his life so far, he thought. But it was worth it as Wei Ying's sentences were getting stronger and his casting about for the word he wanted to say didn't take him quite so long.

Rising, he moved to the small desk to one side and set brush to paper, giving as much detail in as few words as possible in a letter to his brother. He rolled and sealed the paper, handing it and an appropriately sized silver ingot to the innkeeper when the meal was delivered for the fasted delivery he could manage. It would take half a day to reach the Unclean Realm, and if Xichen rode his sword, his brother would be in Yiling before nightfall tomorrow. As much as he didn't want to overwhelm Wei Ying, he felt Xichen would be more help in this matter than anyone.

"Wei Ying, come eat," he said as soon as the door was closed. "You are not asleep, and you still need to build your energy."

Smiling, the other rose obediently and shuffled back to the table.

"I know," he said softly. "I won't ask how much money you're spending on this room and service. But I thank you for your... your... care."

Wei Ying drew his arms up, touched his fingers together, and bowed. Lan Zhan moved forward quickly, taking hold of Wei Ying's arms to stop him. He didn't want this from Wei Ying, this propriety and respect. They knew one another too well, were too equal. Outside of public spaces, he only wanted Wei Ying to be himself.

"You are welcome. Now sit. There is no need for this."

Smiling, Wei Ying nodded and pulled away, taking his seat. Lan Zhan remained standing for a few moments, looking at his hands. Sighing faintly, he took his own seat again and they ate in silence this time.

Xichen arrived the next evening as their dinner was being brought into the room. He politely waited until everyone had left before knocking, earning a happy little smile from Wangji when the door opened.

"Brother. Come in."

Stepping inside, Xichen was caught off guard by the sight of Wei Ying standing in the middle of the room in Wangji's robes, looking nervous as he shuffled his bare feet against the floor. Swallowing hard, Wei Ying saluted the older Lan.

"Z-Zewu-Jun," he said. "It is... good to see you."

Rising, he looked pleased with himself, glancing at Lan Zhan, his expression turning slightly accusatory for a split second. They'd both been happy when Wei Ying's words were still flowing and getting stronger. He still had sporadic moments of struggle, but they were getting fewer. He hadn't told Wei Ying that Xichen was coming, though, hadn't mentioned the letter to him. He worried that Wei Ying would retreat somehow, or else leave for some reason. He wasn't sure why he'd thought that way, but the look he was given caused him no regret.

"And you as well, Wei Ying," Xichen replied with a gentle smile. "You look well."

Wei Ying shrugged, moving to sit. Lan Zhan followed, motioning Xichen to join them. He'd asked for an extra setting for his brother. Wei Ying shifted awkwardly throughout the quiet meal, picking at this and that despite Lan Zhan's repeated efforts to get him to eat more. The other's appetite fluctuated with his mood, it seemed, but some was better than none, so he eventually left him to do as he pleased.

Once the meal was eaten and they were sitting with their cups of tea, Xichen broke the silence.

"Wangji, your letter was sparse. Please, bring me up to speed."

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mxtx #mxtx fanfic #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan xichen #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

Text

An Imperfectly Remembered Life, Ch. 1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (as Mo Xuanyu at first)

Chapter 1 below the cut

Chapter 1:

"Hello. I'm Mo Xuanyu and I look forward to working with everyone."

Lan Wangji drew his eyes up from the tablet cradled in his left hand, his right hand holding the pen that he was tapping against his lower lip. His gaze rolled up slowly over the sharply fitted suit of the man who had just introduced himself, taking in the perfect cut to the slender frame, up to an easy smile and dark, deep eyes beneath shoulder length jet black hair that was pulled into a neat tail at the base of Mo Xuanyu's skull. The voice had caught him, but it was the smile that flickered something in Lan Wangji's mind, some lost and distant thought shrouded in a cloud for the last nearly eight years. But the flicker faded and he frowned, pulling his eyes away from Mo Xuanyu to study the other interns that were joining them today.

One of the other managers was talking, handing out duties and department assignments, so he went back to his tablet, studying his schedule for the day. Interns came and went, so today wasn't very special in that regard.

Mo Xuanyu lifted himself from his bow and caught the gaze of one of the managers on him. His heart skidded and jumped in his chest and it took every ounce of will power to keep his smile in place.

No... no way... it can't be...

Those eyes were older now, but still just as sharp and cutting as they'd been years ago. His hair was a little longer now, too. Lan Wangji was never one for short hair, and anything above the middle of his back was unacceptably short. Neatly braided, it lay over his shoulder, trailing nearly into his lap. Mo Xuanyu swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from wincing at the frown that creased Lan Wangji's face, at the blank expression and the lack of recognition. So what he'd read in the newspaper back then was true. Lan Wangji really didn't remember.

It was for the best, though, because if he ever remembered what happened, he'd hate him.

He'd hate me more than I hate myself, Mo Xuanyu thought, keeping his face carefully in check as he accepted his department assignment. And I hate myself more than anything.

Leaving the conference room, Mo Xuanyu didn't join in the banter of his fellow interns as he chewed his lip, flipping through the papers in his hand. Skimming a page, he found which manager he'd be working under and stopped short, someone colliding with him from behind with a grunt. He ignored the man mostly, apologizing softly, but his eyes read and reread the name.

Fate hated him. The universe despised him. No other companies were taking on interns now. He was so fucked.

His manager was none other than Lan Wangji.

***

"I missed half of the notes in Algebra. Let me get them from you."

Wei Wuxian threw his arm around Lan Wangji's shoulders, carefully navigating the waterfall of hair on the other's head to avoid pulling. He put on what he considered his best and most winning smile, cracking the carefully maintained mask his best friend wore as a single eyebrow twitched. Silently, Lan Wangji considered the slightly shorter boy before giving a slight nod.

"I'll bring them to lunch. You can copy them then."

"What? And waste a perfectly good lunch hour when I could be napping?" Wei Wuxian laughed, giving Lan Wangji a quick squeeze before dropping his arm back to his side. "I guess I'll take it since I know you'd rather throw me off of the roof than let me take them home overnight." He laughed again at the sharp glance the other gave him. "See? You even thought about it! Didn't you?"

Lan Wangji sighed faintly, giving his friend a nudge to the ribs before breaking off and heading for his next class, Wei Wuxian's amused laughter following him into the crowd. Beneath his loose hair, Lan Wangji's ears burned bright red, though the blush didn't reach his cheeks, thank heavens. Honestly, how he'd managed to land Wei Wuxian of all people as what was considered his best friend, he still couldn't fathom. It had just happened nearly two years ago, and their peers were only just now starting to ease off the teasing. Not that it bothered either of them, honestly, but it had gotten annoying. There were very few friend sets in their school that were made up of a severe introvert and an excessive extrovert. Somehow, though, it worked.

Taking his seat, Lan Wangji took a hair tie from his pocket and secured his hair into a neat knot at the base of his skull, keeping it out of reach of the girl that sat behind him. She had a bad habit of playing with it if he left it loose or in a simple tail, which annoyed him greatly. He had requested she stop repeatedly, but she refused until he started tying it up. He suppressed a smile at her huff when she sat down, simply opening his text book.

Wei Wuxian made his way to his own class, dawdling outside of the door as long as he could before going in and sliding into his seat just behind his adopted brother. He gave the other a playful nudge in the back, earning an annoyed sound as Jiang Cheng reached back to blindly swat at his leg. Wei Wuxian shifted out of reach with a laugh, but left the younger teen alone for the time being. He'd been warned plenty of times to stop distracting Jiang Cheng in history class, and he really did try to behave. It wasn't easy all the time, though. But right now, the last thing he needed was Miss Yu on his case again, causing him more stress than he wanted to deal with. Exams and prom were soon, both of which he had vested interest in.

He had a date.

Sure, it was just Lan Wangji, but they had plans for dinner with Jiang Cheng and their older sister Yanli, as well as Lan Xichen, the elder Lan brother, before the dance. There was a party after that he'd worked hard to get Lan Wangji to agree to go to with him, so there was no way in hell that he was going to get grounded or forbidden from any of those events. Sitting back in his chair, he opened his text book and did his best to pay attention, though his mind continued to wander over their plans, looking for any flaw or detail that needed to be worked at. Lan Wangji was stepping out of his shell for one night only, and he wanted to show his best friend that it was well worth the experience.

***

Mo Xuanyu sighed, looking around the little cubicle he'd been assigned to, eyeing the stack of paperwork he was supposed to be matching to the files in the computer. Instead, he was getting lost in his own thoughts. Years had passed since high school, years he tried not to think about if he could help it. No one knew for sure what had happened that night after the prom, and he knew that the Jiang's were still searching for him though the statute was quickly coming where he would be declared officially dead. That suited him just fine, too. Let them think he'd gone off and died in a gutter somewhere after what had happened. Miss Yu probably already thought that, anyway, and who was he to disappoint his adopted mother?

Reaching up, he absently tugged his ponytail, sharply, drawing himself fully back into the present. So long as Lan Wangji continued to look at him blankly, as long as there was no recognition in those sharp eyes, Mo Xuanyu was okay to stay here for a little while. He needed the job. He needed to work. He needed the money that would come if he made it through the internship to actually having a job.

Just stay out of his way and out of sight, he told himself. As long as I'm careful, neither of us should be hurt by this. As long as I'm careful...

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mxtx #mxtx fanfic #mo xiang tong xiu #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei wuxian #wei ying #mo xuanyu

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

Text

Fractured, Ch. 2

Gif created by @nyx4

******

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying

Summary: Three months after his disappearance, Wei Wuxian walks out of Burial Mounds, full of malignant power and a thirst for revenge, not only against the Wen clan, but ALL of the clans.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian shows no sign of slowing down in his mission to bring the cultivation world to its knees.

Chapter 2 below the cut.

2...

For three months, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng had searched for Wei Wuxian. It was hard not to fear the worst as every lead ran them into dead ends and no one they spoke to had seen him at all. What made it worse was that the place in the back of Wangji's mind where the mental connection he and Wei Ying had made when battling the Tortoise of Slaughter still lingered remained stubbornly silent. In the time between their separation and Wei Wuxian's disappearance, there had been a constant soft whisper that he'd learned to ignore for the most part until the noise grew and he knew something was happening. He didn't know if Wei Ying was aware of it, so he kept himself as calm and quiet as possible. Now, he regretted not knowing as the silence loomed day by day.

"Kneel," he growled, his face hard as he faced down the soldiers of the Wen army, disgusted at their drunkenness, appalled by their blatant disregard for Wei Wuxian's life. "Now."

The trembling men fell to their knees, swords clattering to the ground as they whimpered. Lan Wangji's face remained hard and impassive, even as Jiang Cheng arrived just ahead of the Lan disciples that he'd brought with him. Swords were trained on the cowering men, keeping them in check.

"Where is Wei Wuxian?" he asked, his voice dangerous, causing even Jiang Cheng to flinch.

Terrified glances went around, but no one answered, the swords drawing closer to the gathered prisoners. A hand rose, the man gagging where the zither string held him fast to the stone leg of the torch. Lan Wangji raised his hand and the man was released, leaving him to gasp and wheeze as he crawled forward.

"W-we... we dropped him in the Burial Mounds!" the insect babbled, his head nearly touching the ground. "Th-there isn't anything l-left to find! Not body or bone or soul!"

It took every ounce of will power Wangji possessed not to end the bastard's life right there. Jiang Cheng's face contorted in rage and grief, but he, too, kept himself still. He refused to believe what he heard. The two exchanged a look before Wangji ordered the men taken into custody and turned away, making his way back down the steps, Jiang Cheng following a few steps behind.

The two of them had been traveling together for a while, though they rarely spoke to one another. They didn't really need to, both knowing they had the same goal in finding someone they both cared about. It was an alliance of necessity, even if Lan Wangji wasn't particularly fond of Jiang Cheng most days. Months of watching the new clan leader scold Wei Ying for every minor thing while they'd been in Cloud Recesses, then blame him for just being himself when they'd been held by the Wen Clan for indoctrination had not endeared the younger man to him in the slightest. He understood that their relationship was complicated, but he still didn't like it. Standing near one another, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng made awkward small talk, both skirting the edge of what they really wanted to say until Jiang Cheng couldn't help himself.

"He's still alive. I can feel it."

Lan Wangji wanted to agree, but his rational mind had a tendency to override his heart. As much as it pained him, he couldn't ignore what was likely the truth. Especially after he was given Wei Ying's sword. It felt good to have Bichen in his hand again, the weight of it a familiar comfort. But Suibian made his heart ache because when he held the grip and gave a slight tug, the blade would not move. The silence in his head deepened somehow and Wangji had to remove himself before anyone saw the tears threatening to fall. He hated to cry and he'd be damned if anyone saw him do it.

He and Jiang Cheng traveled to the Unclean Realm, arriving in the aftermath of a great and bloody battle. Leaving the other to greet his sister, Lan Wangji surveyed the bodies strewn across the ground. Beside him, Jin Zixuan was talking, but there was a pounding sound growing in his ears, making it hard to concentrate. He let the sound of Jiang Yanli crying behind them answer Zixuan's question, his hand tightening where he held both swords.

"Congratulations on your victory," Jiang Cheng was saying, drawing Wangji out of his thoughts. "By killing Wen Xu, you've taken off one of Wen Ruohan's arms."

"But it isn't enough." Nie Mingjue's face was dark, a storm of emotion where he sat on his dais, hands clenched in hard fists on the surface of the table before him. "There are still too many grievances unanswered. We need to remove the head." He slammed a fist against the table, knocking over an empty wine jar and causing his ink pot to splash. "If we could do that, this entire war would be over in an instant."

Jiang Cheng was nodding in agreement, his own expression cloudy as he thought of his parents and his home. And Wei Wuxian, lost somewhere among the dead. Lan Wangji remained impassive, his eyes directly ahead, his mind following paths of thought he had never entertained before. Something in his heart was darkened, and he wasn't sure if he disliked it or not. The conversation continued around him and he responded automatically when addressed, but he kept his silence otherwise.

Finally, he approached the sect leader, bowing deeply.

"I request a battle assignment," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jiang Cheng was immediately at his side, requesting the same. Lan Wangji was not surprised. They had been thinking the same things for the last few weeks, after all.

"Where?" Nie Mingjue asked after a few moments consideration.

"Yiling," they said together.

It was there that they started seeing the evidence of someone's dark cultivation. Bodies sprawled in a courtyard, each death painful and terrifying. Walking amongst the corpses, both men felt a mixture of revilement and excitement. Someone who could inflict this much damage on his own was surely powerful and not to be trifled with. While Jiang Cheng's mind was filled with thoughts of bringing whoever this was to their side in an effort to change the course of the war, Wangji's heart was filled with worry. This person was risking damnation following this course. He wondered if it was Wei Ying, but kept those thoughts to himself.

They followed the path of bodies through Yiling, finding more and more of them scattered on the ground. For four days, they tracked this mysterious being, growing numb to the discoveries of Wen clan bodies. Jiang Cheng constantly mentioned forming some sort of alliance if they could find this person, ignoring the looks Wangji gave him each time it came up.

"I'd rather this person be my friend than my enemy," Jiang Cheng said, pointing at yet another group of dead Wen clan soldiers. "If he turned this power on the rest of the clans, we'd be decimated in days if not hours."

Wangji couldn't help but agree with that assessment, but he chose not to respond. It wasn't worth discussing.

The full moon was creeping into the sky on the fifth night when they spotted a familiar figure on the rise ahead of them. Drawing their combined disciples to a stop, Jiang Cheng and Wangji moved forward together, staying in the shadows. Wangji kept his grip on Bichen, his eyes on the man standing in the middle of the path, watching the moon climb its slow way up.

"Jiang Cheng." The figure turned, smiling in their direction, hands folded behind his back.

"Wei Wuxian..." Jiang Cheng broke cover and hurried up the hill before Wangji could stop him, fear and relief on his face as he made for his brother.

Hesitating a moment, Wangji stepped out and followed. His steps were careful and wary as he approached, finally seeing Wei Wuxian's face in the moonlight. He was smiling, but it was slightly off from what Wangji remembered. It set him on edge.

"Wei Wuxian, where the hell have you been?" Jiang Cheng grabbed his brother's arm, not registering that Wei Wuxian flinched slightly at the touch. "We've been looking for you. Here." Pulling Suibian from his belt, he pressed it into the other's hands. "We've been carrying it around, hoping to find you. Now you can take it."

Wei Wuxian accepted the sword, stepping back a few paces as he pulled the blade free. It glowed faintly in the moonlight as he examined the edge, smiling wider at the sharpness. He sheathed it and held it at his side.

"Thank you, Jiang Cheng," he said, and Wangji felt that even his voice was slightly off. "For keeping it for me. It's good to be reunited."

"Wei Wuxian... I have to ask. All of these bodies that we've seen, and the talismans..."

"Yes," Wei Wuxian said, nodding. "That was me."

Jiang Cheng's facial expression battled with his emotions. He was disturbed by and proud of his older brother all at once. In the end, he simply punched Wei Wuxian in the shoulder, but said nothing.

"How did you do it?"

Finally, Wei Wuxian let his gaze travel to Wangji where he stood behind Jiang Cheng. The clan leader turned to look at him.

"Is that really important?"

"It is." Wangji glanced at Jiang Cheng, taking a few steps closer to the two of them. "Wei Ying... how did you kill them?"

"Kill them?" Wei Wuxian laughed. "I didn't kill them. They either killed each other or themselves. I did not lay a hand on them."

Wangji's eyes narrowed. Wei Wuxian was deliberately twisting things.

"Whether or not you did it, something tells me that you caused it. So tell me how."

"Lan Wangji, now isn't the time," Jiang Cheng said, taking hold of Wangji's arm. "We can talk about it later, not in the middle of the road like this."

He shook Jiang Cheng off, still unsettled by something about Wei Wuxian's face. He took a step forward and the man in question took a step back.

"Wei Ying..."

"My brother is correct, Hanguang Jun." Wei Wuxian's voice was soft, low in the darkness that seemed to grow around them despite the full moon. "Now is not the time or place. In fact, I think Jiang Cheng and I should take it from here. You're on Wen Chao's trail, too, right? Well, I know where he might be going, and this is a matter for the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng to deal with. You can take your disciples and go."

Wangji's heart twisted at the dismissal, his expression turning angry. He made to move forward again, but Jiang Cheng stepped in front of him, putting a hand on his chest.

"Lan Wangji," he said softly. "Maybe Wei Wuxian is right. Your revenge has been taken with Wen Xu's death. Now it's our turn. Go back."

Glaring, Wangji brushed Jiang Cheng's hand off, stepping back finally. This entire situation felt wrong and he wondered why Jiang Cheng didn't see it. Something about Wei Wuxian was different, and not in a way that made sense or felt safe.

"We should all go back," he said roughly. "The other clan leaders will want an explanation for your absence."

"That's where you're wrong," Wei Wuxian said, folding his arms over his chest. "The only clan leader that needs or deserves my explanation is my brother. He is right here and I will explain it to him. Like I said, you can go back now. Tell them whatever you want."

Wei Wuxian turned away and Wangji saw the flute tucked into the back of his belt. He couldn't see it clearly, but he didn't like the feeling he got from it.

"Look," Jiang Cheng was holding his arm again as Wei Wuxian walked down the other side of the hill. "I'll find out what's going on and I'll convince him to come back somehow. Just tell them... tell our sister... that he's alive at least. Will you do that for me?"

Clenching his jaw, Wangji stopped himself from brushing the clan leader off again. He had to remind himself that Jiang Cheng was young and his only remaining family were his older brother and sister. It wasn't fair that he was letting his personal feelings for Wei Ying get in the way of that. Looking down, he finally nodded. Jiang Cheng gave a tight smile and let Wangji go, calling out to his disciples to come up to him. Standing with his own followers, Wangji watched the Jiang clan members disappear into the darkness. His mind whirled and worry built, but still there was relief. Wei Wuxian was alive and still in the world, despite something being fundamentally wrong with him.

"Let's go," he said, turning to go back the way they'd come. "There's nothing else we can do here."

Word came in over the next few days, then couple of weeks, that Wen's Chao and Zhuliu had been seen in different towns and cities in different regions. Wen Chao, it was reported, had gone mad and was always raving from beneath his cowl, practically being carried by Zhuliu as they fled something. Or someone. It seemed that any time they got close to Qishan, they were redirected and ended up somewhere else entirely.

Wangji was certain it was Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. They were toying with the Wen's and the longer it took and the wilder the stories were, the more frustrated he became. They should just end this, not torture the men. It didn't make sense, this behavior, and he was left wondering why Jiang Cheng was allowing it. Then again, considering that Wei Wuxian had little trouble convincing his brother to do anything...

His fingers stuttered over the strings of his guqin, the sound as unhappy as his thoughts. Wangji had not left the Unclean Realm, thinking that Jiang Cheng would steer their path back to this place. But time was passing faster than he liked and there was no sign of the two at the gate. The clan leader had sent a few messages at first, but those had stopped quickly. Other leaders were starting to demand answers he didn't have.

Lost in his thoughts as he was much of the time anymore, Wangji almost missed the knock on his door.

"Come," he called out, getting to his feet to greet whoever it was.

The door slid open and Xichen stepped inside, quickly closing them behind himself. Gasping, Wangji crossed the room quickly, reaching to grasp his older brother's hands.

"Xichen," he said, giving a bow without letting go. "I..."

"I know, Wangji," Xichen smiled, pulling his little brother into a rare hug. "It's alright. I'm sorry I took so long. Things were happening so fast."

Awkwardly, Wangji returned the embrace, feeling the first spark of happiness he'd felt in months. Closing his eyes, he let out a shuddering breath before pulling free of his brother's arms. Xichen let him go, looking the other over carefully.

"Wangji, you're getting too thin. Aren't you eating properly?"

Shifting, Wangji half turned away, looking at the floor.

"As you said, things are happening so fast. It's hard to maintain my personal schedule, much less remember meals some days. Come sit, let's talk. There's things to catch up on."

"I wish I could, Wangji." Xichen bowed his head. "I haven't been to see Mingjue yet. You were my first concern, but I must go." His smile bloomed again. "Come with me. You can hear everything as I report it."

He was quick to agree, collecting Bichen and following behind his brother. Having Xichen in his sight again seemed to anchor his mind and he was able to think about Wei Wuxian without feeling anger rise in his chest.

Listening to Xichen recount what he'd seen and heard while he was making his way to Qinghe and the Unclean Realm, Wangji realized that things were worse in some places and better in others, but no clan, be they gentry or not, was left untouched. Only a handful of scattered small clans had somehow managed to hold their ground and chase the Wen clan off. It seemed, too, that after the death of Wen Xu, morale in their forces had begun to fall away.

"But there's something else happening," Xichen said. "Someone else is out there decimating the Wen clan forces. Very few if any are left alive, and those who haven't gone completely mad speak of flute music in the night."

Wangji, who had just lifted his tea cup for a drink, dropped it back onto his table. Mingjue and Xichen both looked at him in alarm, but he shook his head, accepting the maid who quickly appeared to clean it up and pour him a fresh cup. The older men exchanged a glance and Mingjue shrugged. The matter was left for the moment.

"The puppets are also growing in number," Xichen continued. "Though oddly I have heard that they have begun turning on each other in large groups. It's strange."

"Let them kill one another," Mingjue said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We have more important matters to deal with. Like taking out Wen Ruohan."

The doors opened and a Nie clan disciple rushed in, dropping into a deep bow.

"Clan leader, forgive my intrusion, but we've just gotten word that someone was seen leaving the Burial Mounds and heading for Yiling. Do you wish us to pursue them?" Mingjue frowned. Only Wei Wuxian had been there recently, if what Wangji and Jiang Cheng had reported was true. It was strange that someone else would come out of those cursed mountains.

"I'll go," Wangji said, already getting to his feet. "I'll investigate and report back."

Another glance passed between the clan leaders and both men rose, coming to meet Wangji. Mingjue waved the disciple away, only speaking again when the doors were closed.

"What are you thinking, Wangji?" Xichen asked.

Wangji quickly brought his brother up to speed on the search for the missing Wei Wuxian, of finding him ahead of a trail of dead bodies, and the conversation they'd had before Jiang Cheng had left with him.

"So, you think this person is connected to it all somehow?" Mingjue inquired, his expression thoughtful.

"Yes."

"Alright. Go. But you have five days to report back, or I'll come myself," Mingjue pointed a finger at Wangji. "Five days. Understand?"

"Yes, clan leader." Wangji bowed deeply to the two men in turn, catching his brother's eye for a long moment before leaving the hall.

"Was Wei Wuxian really in Burial Mounds for three months?" Xichen asked, turning to Mingjue. "How could anyone survive that?"

"Wei Wuxian has always been special," was all Mingjue could think to say as he returned to his seat and his bottle of wine. "I hope one day he will appear and explain it himself."

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mxtx #mxtx fanfic #lan xichen #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxain #wei ying #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #mo xiang tong xiu

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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Just some Photoshop edits of my pieces.

#mxtx #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #wen ning #wen qing #jin guangyao #lan xichen

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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Winter's Heart and Summer's Smile, Ch. 1

Fandom: 河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021) / 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers

Ship: Zhou Zishu/Han Ying, Zhou Zishu/Wen Kexing (Zhen Yan)

Until the day he meets a strange, and strangely familiar, man with hair as white as snow.

Chapter 1 below the cut:

1. If it weren't for Chengling, Zhou Zishu was certain he'd have gone absolutely mad. If it weren't for the children, grandchildren, and many times great grandchildren of Chengling and his sect, Zhou Zishu was certain he'd have ended his immortality long ago If it weren't for...

The Yin Yang Book had failed him. He was sure he'd followed every instruction perfectly, down to the tiniest detail. The steps, the words, the items needed for the ritual. All of it. But in the end, Wen Kexing, his Lao Wen, brother, best friend... soulmate... had remained still and lifeless on the floor. He'd tried again and again, but Lao Wen had not come back to him, had simply lay there with the content look on his face as if he had been perfectly happy to go once Zhou Zishu had been saved. He had cried and railed at the other, accusing him of things, begging him to come back. With the knowledge of his new immortality came a sudden and overwhelming fear of being alone. Utterly alone in this place of ice and snow, trapped for an eternity with nothing but echoes. When his own voice had finally fallen silent, his hands had been gentle as he touched Lao Wen's face. Leaning close, he kissed cold lips and whispered his love, his thanks, and his promise to never forget. He then carried his soulmate into a small chamber and laid him beneath a blanket, knowing the cold that filled the armory would preserve the body until spring when he might be able to bury him. Chengling and Shen Shen had come once the snow melted and the door to the armory was once more revealed. They ignored the other bodies that emerged from the melt, their objective solely on the two men that were not among them in the aftermath of the avalanche. There was only one place to find them, and the teen was beside himself at what they would see once they got inside. They found Zhou Zishu deep within the armory, clutching the Yin Yang book in numb hands, staring at nothing. Chengling threw himself at his foster father, eyes frantically searching for his uncle. "Master? Master, what happened?" Chengling gripped Zishu's shoulders tightly, shaking him a little. "Master!" Slowly, Zhou Zishu looked up, his eyes red and swollen, his face slightly frostbitten from all of his tears freezing on his skin. "He's gone," he whispered, the bamboo slats of the book creaking in his tightening hands. "Lao Wen is gone. It didn't work." Chengling looked down at what his father was holding, then back up to the stricken and grieving face before him. Tears spilled hotly down his face as realization sank in and he wrapped his arms around Zishu, practically crawling into his lap as they both gave in to the pain. Zhou Zishu held onto the boy, letting him cry, letting him get it out. He himself had no more tears despite how his eyes ached and burned. His entire being was simply numb. Afterward, he took Chengling to see his uncle, had let him cry again while all he could do was stare down at the beautiful still face of his soulmate. He couldn't feel anything right now. "It's alright, Uncle Wen," the boy was saying, gripping the cold hand of the man before him. "Brother and Sister Cao will take care of you. I'm sure they've missed you. Say hello for us." Zishu turned away. Later, they buried Lao Wen outside of the armory. Shen Shen had done the majority of the work digging into the frozen ground, using it as a way to vent his own grief. Wen Kexing would always be Zhen Yan to him, regardless of what the young man had claimed. Shen Shen would fester the guilt of the boy's loss for the rest of his own life. "I'll make sure it goes better for you if we meet in the next life," he said to the mound of dirt that covered Wen Kexing. "If you wish to meet me, that is. But if we do, I'll make sure... I'll make sure..." The normally brusque man choked and stopped talking, lowering his head. Chengling set a hand on his sworn uncle's arm and stepped forward himself. Following his foster father's lead, he forced himself not to cry again.

"Uncle Wen... don't worry. I'll take care of master. And so will my descendants. I promise. He'll never be alone." The boy glanced at Zishu, who stared back at him with slightly widened eyes. "But you have to be reborn some day. You know that, right? You have to come back to master. Don't make him wait too long, though. Okay?"

Zhou Zishu, though numb with grief and cold, felt something warm spread in his chest at Chengling's words. Leave it to the brat to say something so childish yet so mature. His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile and he went to Chengling, folding his idiot child into a hard hug. It was close to evening by the time they moved away from the grave and Zishu bid the two of them to go back to the city, as the mountain was too cold at night and he wouldn't risk their health. Chengling argued, but between his master and his uncle, he gave in. Shen Shen offered to have a gravestone made and Zishu thanked him. His own hands, which could craft poisons and traps with ease, did not feel adequate to the job of creating a marker that would be suitable to Lao Wen's tastes. "Just remember the name he chose," Zishu warned, though there was no malice or threat in his voice. "For this... it is Wen Kexing. That is who he was." Shen Shen nodded. "I understand. It will be as you say." Zishu stood in the growing dark long after the two figures had faded from his sight. > The next day, he buried the rest of them in a clearing near the foot of the mountain, away from him and Lao Wen. He'd leave it to Shen Shen to decide if they would receive gravestones or not. He was well away from the realm of giving a damn about anyone but those he loved. The months began to pass and Zhou Zishu eventually laughed and smiled again when he was given good reason, though it was hard and not as natural as it had once been. True to his word, Chengling visited as often as he could, opting to found his own sect rather than take up his father's mantle. The Five Lakes Alliance was gone, after all, so there was no use in trying to rebuild his childhood home. He married Gao Xiaolian eventually, having let the natural flow of things bring them together rather than the arrangements of others. Zhou Zishu left his mountain briefly when their first child was born, a girl they called Nian Xiang. With a tear in his eye, he told them that Wen Kexing would have appreciated the name. Ye Baiyi appeared a handful of times in the first year, his hair progressively whiter and his body progressively smaller. He had few words for Zhou Zishu, preferring to spend his time sitting beside Wen Kexing's grave, mostly silent but sometimes he'd talk to the stone. Perhaps it was guilt for the way he'd treated the other, or his own form of grief, but Zishu never bothered him when he was there. Partway into Zishu's second year, Ye Baiyi showed up without his sword, looking haggard and ancient. "You understand, right?" he asked as they sat in the sunlight. "When you tire of this existence, you know what you'll need to do." "Yes," Zishu answered. "But that day, if it ever comes, is a long, long way off. I can't let Lao Wen's sacrifice go to waste." Baiyi nodded, his old voice cracking. "I know, you brat. I just wanted to be sure you understood before I die. Because I am going to die, Zhou Zishu. I don't have the strength left. I'd like to die... with a friend." Zishu nodded, watching the clouds float by above them. He was so cold, so numb, even the pain of this loss was nothing to him. He buried Ye Baiyi a few yards away from Lao Wen, and when Chengling visited again with his children in tow, he looked at it but didn't comment. >

The snow fell and melted in repetitive seasons on the mountain, but Zhou Zishu barely noticed. The disciples of Chengling's sect would come to him and he would instruct them. He would take short trips down the mountain into the nearby cities and villages for supplies or just to hear other living voices for a day. He would return and talk to Lao Wen about his day, hearing the man's voice in his head occasionally, just a laugh or a smug remark. Little things that kept his soulmate alive in his heart. Children were born, they grew, Chengling and his wife eventually died, as did their their descendants. Zhou Zishu remained. He watched the world change, noted that fewer disciples came to him, though the direct line of his foster son continued to come see him for a few generations. From his mountain, high above the world, he watched the horizon change, watched the world of man move on from martial arts and magic. It became something else, something strange, and his visits to it were sometimes scary. It was loud and full of color, and oh-so-angry sometimes. He wasn't sure how people survived it all. It had been eighty years now since anyone from Chengling's line had come to see him, but Zhou Zishu understands. They've either died out or have stopped telling the stories or they've simply moved away. Either way, it's for the best, because now, finally, so many hundreds of years later... Zhou Zishu is ready. He has made enough short trips into the world in the last few years to know how things are and he knows he can easily find a way to blend in. He'll give himself three years... the same he gave himself all those ages ago... to live and experience. Then, in the manner that Ye Baiyi had instructed him, Zhou Zishu will leave the world finally and reunite with his Lao Wen in whatever next life he was given. I'll be there soon, he thought to himself as he looked down at the grave that he has meticulously cared for all these years, the stone barely touched by the ravage of time. Please, wait just a little longer for me. Letting out a soft sigh, Zhou Zishu turned away and began his final descent from the mountain, knowing he will likely never return.

#word of honor #zhou zishu #wenzhou #shan he ling #woh #wen kexing #han ying #priest fanfic #word of honor fanfic

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

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Fractured, Ch. 1

Gif created by @nyx4 - an absolute lovely angel

******

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying

Summary: Three months after his disappearance, Wei Wuxian walks out of Burial Mounds, full of malignant power and a thirst for revenge, not only against the Wen clan, but ALL of the clans.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian shows no sign of slowing down in his mission to bring the cultivation world to its knees.

Chapter 1 below the cut.

1... Someone was screaming, loudly and breathlessly, the sound full of pain and just a touch of terror. The sound was loud enough to echo back on itself and something in the distance was howling in response. Slowly, the screams died away, leaving pitiful whimpers and gasps in their place. How much more can you take? As much as is necessary! For all I know, this is killing you. I... I don't care. I have to do it. It's too late to go back now. I warned you... Wen Qing... I know... I knew before we started. Ju... just keep going... finish it... please... The screaming began again, though the voice cracked and shattered as the night went on. By dawn, there was no more voice to scream, but there was agony in the sounds that still filtered from the man lying on the ground, writhing, fingers digging into dirt. A strong set of hands held his shoulders tightly, holding him in place as the man's head thrashed against his thighs, the face hovering above it all twisted in concentration and worry. A woman knelt to the side, her hands slowly, painstakingly drawing the golden core from the man. Behind her, another young man lay silently, waiting, unconscious and unaware of what was happening. The other three knew he'd object harshly and loudly if he were awake, so they were grateful that the sedative was still doing its work. Almost. Endure it. It will be over soon. I promise... *** Dark eyes opened slowly, their vision blurred and shaky as they rolled side to side, trying to make out the surrounding area. A hand swam into view, drawing the focus of those eyes until things began to come into clarity. He was laying on the ground again, he could feel it cold and hard beneath him, but there was no sky above him. Only more cold, unforgiving stone. A groan left the man as he began to move his limbs, feeling stiff and sore from head to toe. Why am I barefoot? The thought sounded funny in his head, his inner voice unfamiliar and echoing. Rolling to his side, he forced his body to sit up, feeling a wave of nausea overtake him at the movement. He dry heaved a few times, coughing painfully. My ribs are bruised... what happened to me? It took a while before he got to his feet without falling, and when he finally managed it, he was nursing a gash on the palm of his hand from catching himself on a jagged rock. His head swam and he felt like he was drowning despite being able to breathe. Where's Lan Zhan? I need to find... wait... who's Lan Zhan? Step by stumbling step, he made his way toward the source of light across the cavernous room, the ragged red robe he was wearing dragging on the ground around his feet. Blood dripped from his hand, leaving a trail of tiny droplets in his wake, but he didn't notice, not really. All he wanted was the sunlight. His entire being throbbed and he wondered if he'd been in a fight and lost. Everything ached and screamed, even his teeth. He finally made it to the mouth of the cave and looked out, squinting against the bright light. Where am I? Using his clean hand, he shoved at the mess of his hair where it lay in his face, taking slow steps out into that light, feeling it warm him so suddenly that he shivered violently. He dropped to his knees, dry heaving again as the warm wind stirred up the dirt in the courtyard, sending it into the air in tiny tornadoes. His stomach ached and his ribs felt tight around his lungs. Panting, he remained on his hands and knees for a time, fingers making furrows in the hard packed earth. When the vertigo passed, he got to his feet again, looking around through burning eyes. … Burial Mounds... this is... this... he threw me in... how... did I live? Trying to remember made his head spin and he nearly fell again, so he shoved the thoughts away. Instead, he focused on walking, one foot ahead of the other, and staying upright. From the tilt of the sun, it was early in the day, not yet noon, and it was already getting hot. Sweat gathered on his brow and neck, running down his skin in sticky streams, making the robe he wore stick to him. He knew there were other layers

he should have on, but he had no idea where they'd gone. Best not to think about that right now. At the head of a path, he had to lean on a tree, using both hands now to shove at his hair, uncaring of the blood he was adding to the dirt already in it. He was hot, he was exhausted, and worst of all, he had no idea what had happened to him. He stopped, his eyes going wide with shock. Who am I? No. No, don't think about that. He had to keep moving. It took him hours to descend the path, his legs repeatedly giving out and spilling him into the dirt again. He lay there longer each time before he was able to get up again and keep moving, tears cutting clean tracks in his dirt stained cheeks. He could imagine what kind of fright he must be. When he finally reached the bottom and stepped out of the dark, twisted trees, he thought his lungs might burst as the air was suddenly clearer in them. Stumbling forward, he cried out and collapsed into the tall grass, feeling the sunlight burning into his back, even warmer than it had been on the mountain. Rolling over, he let it bathe his face as he lay there, crying again though he didn't know why. Panting, gasping, his entire body sobbing with pain, darkness stole over his vision and he fell away into nothingness for a time. Something licking his fingers woke him hours later. Turning his head slowly, he watched a fox kit nudge his hand and lick at him again, making soft chirping sounds. His fingers twitched and the kit took off into the grass. A moan filtered from him as he pushed himself upright, though he felt a little clearer this time. His hand wasn't bleeding anymore and the cut had started to scab up, though it was an angry color. Reaching for the tattered hem of his robe, he yanked off a large piece and wrapped his hand tightly before getting to his feet again. Which way? Turning in a slow circle, he chose at random and began to walk. The day dragged on but he fell a lot less the more he moved. The foothills slowly fell away to an open plain and in the distance, he could see a city. Obviously, he'd chosen correctly in which way to go, so he kept his eye on it. As the sun was setting, he found himself looking at a river he hadn't even realized he was following. Stripping out of his clothes, he threw himself into the icy water, drawing a series of loud gasps from his lungs as he scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and hair. His feet were the worst, torn and bruised from the rocks and hardpan earth he'd traveled all day. Afterward, he sat naked on a rock, letting the warm evening dry his skin before pulling his robe back on and wrapping his hand with another strip from the bottom of it. He felt a little better as he twisted his hair to wring it out, tossing it back over his shoulder where it finally stayed put. It wasn't clean by a long shot, but he could manage it now. He started to walk again, feeling the first faint rumble of hunger in his stomach, but he had no food and he was worried that drinking the water in the river would make him throw up, it was so cold. So he walked and he ignored it, the city coming closer a little at a time. It was full dark when he finally reached the gate, his hair dry and his feet aching worse than ever now. Sticking to the shadows, he slipped inside the city, hurrying into the first alleyway he spotted. Why am I hiding? He didn't know, but he did it anyway. Probably because he looked so bad. As he moved slowly and carefully at the fringe of the evening crowds, his mind kept flashing back to a pair of child sized hands reaching out to vendors stalls, sometimes able to snag some tiny morsel, but more often than not those hands were slapped and their owner cursed and beaten. Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts aside, ignoring the growling in his stomach as the smell of food wafted over him. Blinking, he realized that he was standing behind one of the food vendors, an arm outstretched as if to take the meat that lay so tantalizingly close. Just as he was about to draw away, the vendor turned and spotted him, giving a shout as

he lashed out. The words jumbled in his mind as he backed away, making sounds he hoped were words, his hands up in surrender. He tripped and fell over the display of the vendor beside the food stall, bring more shouts and waving arms. He was grabbed by the two men and dragged into the alley where they set upon him with fists and feet, shouting unintelligibly as he simply tried to protect his head. From the other end of the alley came the sound of a zither chord being struck, hard, followed by shouts as the men beating him were sent flying. He lay on the ground, trembling, his vision blurring again. Something swam into view, a face, he could see the mouth moving. I know that face... Blinking, he reached out his bandaged hand to the one before him, but barely touching that face before his strength failed him and his arm dropped back down. "Wei Ying...? Wei Ying!" The words suddenly came to him clearly and he sighed, a tiny smile curling his lips. Yes. Yes, that's my name. I'm Wei Ying. I remember now. Hands were on him, lifting him and he gasped as new pain settled over his old pain. The hands gentled, but still lifted him firmly, carrying him away. His vision danced and his mind floated in and out, but he clung to the other, fresh blood dripping from him, his clothing further torn and tattered. He was a wreck, probably a terrifying mess, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. His mind floated away again. Coming to, he felt something warm and wet against his cheek, jerking away from it involuntarily, grunting softly. "Wei Ying. Be still." The voice, low, deep, comforting, settled him and he leaned into the feeling when it came again. It took a while, but he got his eyes open and the face leaning over him slowly came into focus. I know you. I know you. Don't I? I feel like... But his head swam and he bit back another groan, feeling like it would further upset the man who was currently tending his wounds. If the other guy's expression was any indication, he was plenty upset already. Reaching up a shaky hand, he took a weak hold of the other's wrist, stopping his motions. Blinking a few times, he stared up at him, concentrating as hard as he could, knowing he knew who this was, desperate to remember. "La..." he tried, though it felt like he was choking on his tongue. "Lan... Lan Zha... n..." He frowned, knowing he could say it, he'd been speaking in his own head all day. "Lan... Zhan..." "Yes," came that voice again, though it was flooded with relief now. "Wei Ying, it's me." "Lan... Zhan." Wei Ying gave a weak nod, smiling faintly. "I... I know you... I... but I..." "Don't speak. Rest." Lan Zhan carefully removed his wrist from Wei Ying's hold, leaning aside to rinse his cloth so he could continue to clean the other's face. "We'll speak of all of this later." Wei Ying closed his eyes again, feeling exhaustion and pain pulling him down. Lan Zhan's hands were gentle and he felt safe here with him. He let himself fall into a deep sleep, unaware that Lan Zhan, against all of his levels of propriety, removed the tattered remains of his clothing to clean the rest of him. He missed the hard look that crossed the other's face at the cuts and bruises that covered him, most certainly older than the beating he'd just taken. He carefully redressed him in clean pants and a soft shirt, then left him to sleep. He sat himself at the low table with his zither, playing the Song of Clarity, both for himself and for Wei Ying. Something was definitely wrong, but he would have to wait to find out when Wei Ying was ready. *** There was screaming again, but it wasn't the kind he'd been dreaming of before. Where that had been his own voice echoing off of mountains, he now realized, what he was hearing now was a cacophony of voices screaming out in agony, terror, desperation, and some laughing madly all around him. He curled in on himself, his face soaked with tears as unseen hands reached out for him, clawing at him, trying to rip him to shreds, screaming and wailing in his ears, in his head. Please. Please stop!

Please, let me go! The screams grew in pitch and volume, as if the number of unseen souls had doubled, then quadrupled. I don't want to die like this! Laughter now, and he recognized it as his own, so very close but not coming from his own lips. "But this is how you'll die," he heard his own voice whisper in his ear, inside his head as well as from by his side. *You are weak. You are nothing. I will do what must be done. You just lay here and die." No... no! What are you saying? What are you doing? The laughter faded, but the screams did not, the tearing hands now claws that were tearing and scratching and rending his flesh... Wei Ying jerked awake with a yell, bolting upright in the bed, straight into Lan Zhan's hands. Tears spilled from his eyes as his hands gripped pure white robes in a white-knuckled grip, staring into Lan Zhan's eyes desperately. "Lan... Lan Zhan..." he panted. "Wha... what ha-ha... have I... done?"

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mo xiang tong xiu #mxtx #mxtx fanfic

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burdswritersblock · 2 years

Text

Second Chance, Ch. 1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)魔道祖师 / 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Ship: Wei Ying/Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji

Summary: What began as a wild and terrifying dream ends up being a reality that Wei Wuxian wants to avoid at all costs.

Waking up to the feeling of having died, Wei Ying slowly regains memories of a life he never lived. Realizing what's at stake, he must decide what he can change and what must remain the same to keep the tenuous balance between what is, what was, and what could be.

Through it all, he must find a way to convince those closest to him that he isn't losing his mind even as he fights the shroud surrounding the truth buried in his memories.

Chapter 1 below the cut.

1... I'm falling... Why... why am I...? "... W... ing...!" What was that? "Wei.... ing...!" That voice... what is that voice...? The rush of wind sounded in his ears, loud and unforgiving. The feeling of falling, his body hurtling downward, free-falling into the hot air and jagged stone beneath the mountain keep. "Wei Ying!" Dark eyes pry themselves open and through a veil of tangled hair, he sees... a shining point of light against the rising of a bloody dawn. He can't see their face, but just knowing that person is there... he smiles and closes his eyes again, letting the abyss swallow him whole. *** Wei Ying jerked awake in the darkness of his bedroom, gasping as he bolted upright. His blanket was tangled around his legs and his body was drenched with sweat, his hair sticking to his neck and cheeks. Wide eyed, he searched the room, peering hard into the shadows, looking for something. The manor was quiet save the early morning birds singing in the gardens. Only the morning servants would be up right now, preparing for the day while the Jiang family slumbered. They'd been up late the previous night, having a bit of celebration before sending Wei Ying and his siblings off to Cloud Recesses for the Lan clan lectures. Perhaps he'd had too much to drink... what sort of nightmares had he had? Still trying to catch his breath, Wei Ying kicked and shoved the blanket away and swiveled around, putting his bare feet on the cool floor. A shiver ran down his spine and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the room had become a little brighter as the sun began to crest the horizon. Jiang Cheng would rise soon, like clockwork, for his morning exercises. The idiot was good with his sword, but he insisted on continuous training anyway. Wei Ying smiled to himself, fondness blooming in his chest and chasing some of the bad feelings the dream had left away. Shoving himself to his feet, Wei Ying padded silently to the basin in the corner, dipping his fingers into the cold water, bringing cupped hands up to splash against his face. It shocked him slightly and he gasped, but he did it another two times before he felt a little better. Grabbing the cloth, he made quick work of wiping his neck, shedding his shirt to wash away the sweat from his chest and arms. Really, what sort of dream was that? he wondered, rinsing the cloth and hanging it up. Where was that? And why was I falling that way? As he began to dress for the day, another thought occurred to him, bringing a frown to his usually smiling face. "Who called my name that way?" he muttered. "No one calls me that anymore..." Pushing thoughts of the dream and his name aside, Wei Ying tamed his hair and took up his sword, beating even Jiang Cheng to the training grounds, proclaiming he wanted to train with him when his sworn brother finally arrived. The younger was surprised, but pleased and agreed. Soon enough, the two were sparring, neither thinking of the trip they would make to Gusu that day, neither worried about what would happen tomorrow as their blades clashed and rang out into the morning. The two young masters of the Jiang clan, so alike but so different, simply pushed themselves to near collapse until Yanli showed up to call them to breakfast. For Wei Ying, he only wanted life to be this simple for the rest of it; to be with his brother and sister, to bicker and quarrel with Jiang Cheng and to be spoiled and doted upon by Yanli. He was protector and tormentor to them, but the three shared a bond that was unbreakable, a love beyond Heaven and Hell. As he trailed behind the two, smiling happily, Wei Ying couldn't help noticing the feeling at the back his his mind, some warning. Beware. Be careful. Remember.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mo xiang tong xiu #mxtx #mxtx fanfic

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