#(b) the burial mounds being the only thing left that feels familiar to wwx but only in the worst of ways

[weiwuxiian]

Because I am a fool and I love Lan WangJi with all my heart. This is all in LWJ’s POV. Even though I’m a WWX blog I’m posting about his family ok.

Objectives: 1. LWJ needs more love 2. I love family feels 3. Since Wen Yuan is introduced in the Eng translations lately, I felt like it’s appropriate to post this 4. Slight novel spoilers altho I feel like all of u might already know 5. Might add a bit and then publish it to AO3 maybe P.S:  Personal blogs please DO NOT REBLOG this post. Comments, however, are welcomed.

Lan WangJi took thirty-three strokes of whip marks to his back.

When the whips were carried out, all he could think of is that it also took thirty-three strokes to write his name. To write three letters: Wei Wu Xian.

Lan WangJi never uttered a single word, never even released a pained groan as the Gusu Lan Sect’s whip bit into his flesh. A loud whack resounding in the air repeatedly. Again and Again. Lan XiChen caught him biting down on his lip as sweat gathered above his brows, yet his expression remained passive, natural, as they always had.

He knelt in front of the altar for three long hours. And next, three years on bed awaited him.

Lan WangJi had fallen into a coma.

When he woke up, everything felt like a bad dream.

Lan XiChen was the first one to greet him. Lan WangJi sat up, his eyes drifting down to the thing in his elder brother’s hand. Lan XiChen had brought him a walking stick.

“You will find it easier to move around with this.”

Lan WangJi nodded, “Thank you, brother.”

It was difficult sitting up. Lan WangJi had never felt so clumsy before in his life until Lan XiChen grips his arm, helping him sit up and guides the stick onto his hand. For a long while, Lan WangJi didn’t speak. He only watched the concerned expression forming on his brother’s face.

“How long?”

“One week. Seven days.” Lan XiChen answers casually as if he’d expected WangJi to ask such questions. “Does it still hurt?”

“...A bit. It will heal in time. Brother need not worry.”

Lan XiChen’s look of concern never left his face. He added quietly, “Uncle is angry.”

Lan WangJi froze visibly, but only barely. His grip around the handle of the walking stick tightens as he answered with a determined gaze. “I know. I will explain it to him. However, my answer will be the same.”

“Why?” Lan Xichen let out a long sigh. His brother was impossibly stubborn, just like his uncle. After a moment of thought, he finally offered, “No need to see him. I will talk to him. He might listen if I beg.”

Lan WangJi thanked his brother the second time that day in their short confrontation.

After he managed to figure out how to walk with a stick, the first thing he did after he steps out of the Jingshi was to visit his rabbits. Over the years, they multiplied. Or rather, at first there were just two, then one day, another pair of white and black rabbit appeared. The two he originally had apparently found their mates.

Then from there, more and more rabbits began to appear.

They greeted him whenever he visited the garden at the black of the Cloud Recesses, piling up excitedly to greet him. Lan WangJi didn’t like to speak, and the rabbits couldn’t speak, preferring to show their excitement through their actions. Round, fluffy things gathered around him as he limped his way into the valley, leaving a small space between themselves and his walking stick, deciding the strange new object wasn’t something they should touch or topple over.

Lan WangJi found a tree and knelt beside it. His back still ached from those thirty-three whip marks.

When he sat down, his lap was immediately filled with rabbits. Of course, they missed him. He’d been in a coma for almost an entire week. Lan XiChen must have fed them for him.

“...”

Bright, golden hues stared down, and it seemed as though the rabbits had gotten used to his stoic, cold, facade somewhat and didn’t feel the same sense of intimidation others would have felt. Perhaps they couldn’t tell. Perhaps they trusted Lan WangJi’s touches that were soft and gentle in contrast to his face.

Lan WangJi patted them with a single hand, while his other hand held on to his stick.

“Lan Huan! Look after your brother!”

It was the voice of an elder of the Lan Sect. Hundreds of disciples were rushing out to gather at the bottom of the Cloud Recesses, apparently, they were ready to take down the Yiling Patriarch as a means to an end. Lan WangJi had woken up in the middle of the night with a blank expression, proof of being uninformed. But Lan XiChen’s own face contradicts his own. His brother knew.

“Elder brother, what is happening?”

“They’re doing what they should. We were given orders to stay out of it.”

Doing what they should? Doing what? The door was locked, XiChen standing next to it as if he was guarding it. Even a fool could tell something wasn’t right. Immediately, Lan WangJi reaching to the corner of his bed where he had kept his walking stick only to find it gone.

Immediately, he pulled himself to the window of the Jingshi, looking down below. Hundreds of angry cultivators and villagers were gathered at the bottom of the Cloud Recesses, angry expressions written all over their faces. Some holding pitch forks, lanterns, and torches; but the most eye-catching one of them all were the ones holding up wooden signs with red paint written in large, bold letters: ‘Kill the Yiling Patriarch’.

“...No.” Lan WangJi has always been composed, calm, but in this instance, he’d let out a word he hadn’t intended to.

Without his walking stick, he continued to drag himself stubbornly to the exit of his room. Lan XiChen immediately stood between the door and himself.

“Leave!”

Lan XiChen’s eyebrows narrowed. “I am sorry, WangJi.”

What does he mean by that?

He’s finally desperate. “Leave,” he repeated, attempting to shove Lan XiChen away, but his hand was caught by the elder of the two Jades.

“Master Wei should have expected this coming. There is nothing we can do. His errors have transcended his reputation, WangJi. Protecting him would mean going against the entire cultivation world!”

“I cannot care so much.” Lan WangJi shook off his grip, “Those people don’t know what they are doing!”

“Your body is injured to this extent; what can you do, and where can you go? Going alone would only mean killing yourself!”

As much as he hated to admit it, his elder brother does have a point. Lan WangJi reminded himself to calm down, to stop panicking, giving it some thought. “Look for Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Jiang Cheng? Jiang WanYin?”

Lan WangJi nodded. Jiang Cheng was previously the younger brother of Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi knew they shared an intimidate bond. Surely, he will hear him out and discuss matters with him? Surely, they could conspire a plan to rescue Wei WuXian from the fate that awaits him downstairs?

However, what had been a faint candle of hope were instantly blew out the moment he saw the look on Lan XiChen’s face.

“There is something you don’t know, WangJi.” Lan XiChen’s face looked pitiful. As if the moment he feared the most has finally arrived. “The raid to annihilate the Yiling Patriarch…”  he said, “...is led by Sect Leader Jiang.”

Everything was over in a day.

The Yiling Patriarch is dead.

Lan WangJi hasn’t slept since, and already, dark circles were forming under his eyes. It’s been three days since he was locked in his room, and finally, on the third day, a junior disciple was ordered to unlock his doors.

When the junior disciple walked into the Jingshi to serve their HanGuang-Jun his meal, he was greeted by three trays of cold food that were previously brought to his room before this.

But Lan WangJi was nowhere to be found.

With a broken branch as his temporary walking stick, Lan WangJi limped his walk from Gusu to Yiling and finally up the Burial Mounds. The stench there was unbearable to any ordinary human being. If given the chance, no one in their right minds would willingly settle down in such a place. Unless they had no choice, with nowhere else to go.

For two days he wandered the mountains with only his new walking stick to defend him. Bichen hung by the side of his waist. But due to his injury, he couldn’t use too much spiritual energy at the moment, so the need to unsheathe Bichen was kept at a minimum.

Finally, three days have passed. He found nothing. Except for broken items and houses Wei WuXian had kept, not a single corpse or sign of life was present. It was as if all traces of the Yiling Patriarch had vanished into thin air.

Batted, dirty, and tired, Lan WangJi managed to drag himself to a stump of a tree and sat on it, inhaling aggressively to regain all the oxygen he has lost while travelling here. His breath is the only sound that could be heard in the Burial Mounds.

It was Winter that year. Snowflakes had begun to fall, along with ashes from the fires and smokes of the siege that had taken place several days before. Mixing into one, black and white particles fell from the sky.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a child sniffing.

Lan WangJi immediately stood up. There is zero chance that it could be Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi recognized his voice anywhere, but this one also sounded familiar. Grabbing his stick, he quickly limped across the thin layer snow, following the source of the sound.

It led him to an old oak tree. In the heart of the tree, there is a hollow.

A child is wrapped up in a thin layer of cloth. The cloth was something familiar to Lan WangJi’s eyes. Only months ago, Wei WuXian was wearing it when they were having a meal together.

“A…..A-Yuan….wants…. A-Yuan wants Granny.”

A-Yuan…? Wen Yuan…?

“B-Brother Xian…. Brother Xian where are you?”

“Why haven’t... Brother Xian come back? A-Yuan…. hungry and cold.”

Almost instinctively, Lan WangJi took him into his arms, wrapping his own cloak around him. He immediately felt around his head, unsurprised to find that A-Yuan is having a fever. Like any child, especially since he was left in the cold and alone for many days, A-Yuan’s tiny arms clutched his robes as if he was afraid whoever the person has come to pick him up would leave him.

Wen Yuan barely managed to open his eyes, “Brother Xian…?”

“Mn.”

He nuzzled into Lan WangJi’s chest, burying his face in his chest. Within a few seconds, Lan WangJi felt the child’s grip on his robe loosens. Probably, Wen Yuan had either fallen asleep or passed out.

“We go home.”

Wen Yuan was still wrapped in his own cloak when Lan WangJi was carrying him, his tiny head lying on its side on Lan WangJi’s shoulder. The younger of the Two Jade of Gusu Lan was kneeling before the gate of the Cloud Recesses. Lan WangJi’s expression remained neutral, unfeeling, expressionless. However, his grip on Wen Yuan was tight and almost defensive. Several disciples had offered to take Wen Yuan the moment Lan WangJi returned to the Cloud Recesses, but he refused. The wounds of his back had split open once more after limping for hours without the aid of a walking stick and carrying a child.

Lan QiRen had been so angry that he only spared him a glance before turning away and returned to his room.

The last time Lan WangJi saw of him was Lan XiChen following after his uncle. And it had been twelve hours since.

The snow had gotten heavier. His hands were growing cold. But Lan WangJi held on to Wen Yuan, refusing to let anyone touch him.

“...”

The shadow of an umbrella overshadows his figure. Lan WangJi looks up at that and saw a junior disciple holding an umbrella, his eyes pitifully looking down at him with a mixture of confusion and sympathy.

“Go in if you don’t want Master Lan to discipline you.”

The junior disciple shook his head. He looked only about four or five.

“...” Lan WangJi didn’t know what to say, “...what is your name?”

“Lan JingYi.”

Lan WangJi says slowly, “Go in.”

Lan JingYi shook his head. Then, staring at Wen Yuan, Lan JingYi felt his head as well before he immediately withdrew his hand as if Wen Yuan’s forehead had burned him. “Is he sick?!”

Lan WangJi nodded. “Fever.”

Lan JingYi steps back a few paces before he ran into the Cloud Recesses, dropping the umbrella as he did.

Lan WangJi picks it up and holds it above Wen Yuan.

An hour later, the gate of the Cloud Recesses opens again. This time, Lan XiChen stepped out, bidding him to come in with a hand and a solemn expression although his usual smile is still there. Lan WangJi stood, shivered a little when his legs tried to adjust to a standing position after kneeling for so long. He looks around. Lan QiRen and Lan JingYi were nowhere to be seen.

Once he got in, Wen Yuan was immediately put to bed and nursed by the medics of the Gusu Lan Sect.

Two days later, Wen Yuan woke up.

“Who… are you?” the child had asked. “Who… am I? Brother Xian said no talking to strangers…”

Lan WangJi had been the only one by his bed when Wen Yuan woke up. He blinks in slight surprise. “...”

Had Wen Yuan lost his memories?

“Am I… not familiar to you?” he asked.

Wen Yuan stares at him with his large, round, toddler eyes and shook his head. “We… met?”

Lan WangJi nodded. “Once.”

“If you want to keep him, then he is your responsibility.”

Lan WangJi was sitting under the same tree behind the Cloud Recesses where his rabbits roamed. A wooden table was set before him, a brush and paper spread across the surface of the table. Whenever it was peaceful times like these, Lan WangJi spent his time writing poems about the scenery or practised his calligraphy.

It was as if the rabbits knew when to pester him and when to not. Such as now, they didn’t gather all around him like they usually would.

A moment later, Wen Yuan wandered into the same garden Lan WangJi was in. Rubbing his face, he apparently seems to have just woke up and decided to take a stroll in the garden.

Seeing Lan WangJi, he wanders up the small slump of hill and sat beside him, watching at whatever he was doing with keen interest.

Lan WangJi stared back at him, an eyebrow raised.

Wen Yuan appeared to be troubled, somewhat. After a while, he begins. “HanGuang-Jun, do you think Master Lan, Lan QiRen, hates me?”

Now, Lan WangJi understood but instead, he asked, “Why?”

“Um…”  Wen Yuan never thought he needed to explain in such detail, “He doesn’t look at me. During class, he never asked me questions or spoke to me. Have I done something wrong?”

Lan WangJi turned back to his paper and brush. “He does not hate you.”

“Then why he treats me like this?”

“...” Lan WangJi didn’t know how to explain that Lan QiRen hated him and not Wen Yuan. So he picked up his brush and waited for a moment before saying, “Would you… like to write your name?”

Hearing this interesting topic, Wen Yuan immediately dropped their previous topic. “Yes!”

So Lan WangJi settled down to work, drawing his brush over the paper. He never did ask Wei WuXian what the character of Wen Yuan’s  ‘Yuan’ is, so Lan WangJi used another character that also pronounced as ‘Yuan’, but with a different meaning.

He placed the brush back down when he was finished. On the paper, in large, calligraphic letters, were five letters.

                Lan Yuan

Courtesy Name: Lan SiZhui

#;; drabbles #// now I have a dinner / gathering ttyl