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robininthelabyrinth · 11 months

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Delight in Misery - Chapter 12

A/N: Someone reminded me that they really did want to see where this one went, so I went and dug up it up again. Here's one more chapter, at least, and we'll see if I can continue to bring it to a close or if I'll just post the rest of my outline.

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“This is the most humiliating moment in my life,” Jiang Cheng said.

Lan Wangji considered it for a moment, then said, “I agree.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him.

“I meant that it is my most humiliating moment, as well,” Lan Wangji clarified, and the glare disappeared, Jiang Cheng letting his head fall back on the ground with a thump.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered, staring blankly at the sky. “I really just can’t believe this.”

Lan Wangji sighed.

And the day had started out so promisingly, too.

Or at least Lan Wangji had allowed himself to be deceived into thinking it was going promisingly – and that, he supposed, was the problem. He really ought to have learned by now that nothing with Jiang Cheng ever went easily.

Jiang Cheng had stormed away after their conversation with Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen, refusing to even listen to Lan Wangji’s explanations about why they needed to help them with Wen Ning – Lan Wangji had several, all perfectly plausible, that he’d been planning to use, and had planned to only use the real one (that Wen Ning was someone that Wei Wuxian had cared deeply for and would probably want them to help) as a last resort, but he hadn’t gotten to use any of them. Instead, when he’d knocked on Jiang Cheng’s door, he’d been met with a shout that went along the lines that Jiang Cheng had already understood the necessity of helping Wen Ning and accepted it and agreed with it so there was no need to pester him, which had thoroughly cut off most of the rebuttals Lan Wangji would have made.

Lan Wangji had debated making his way in regardless – Jiang Cheng would never actually block the door from him – but ultimately concluded that it was probably one of those times when Jiang Cheng just needed time to cool off. It wasn’t worth pushing him, not when they had guests…not when his temper was so uncertain, as it always was on matters relating to Wei Wuxian.

In the morning, he decided. He’d talk to him in the morning.

He hadn’t gotten the chance.

The moment he stepped out of his room the next morning he discovered that Jiang Cheng had already kicked into a frenzy of activity, which meant he probably hadn’t slept more than a shichen or two. The entire endeavor would be cloaked as a common night-hunt to try to deceive Xue Yang into not realizing that he was their real target, and he’d already pulled together all the things that needed to be arranged for that proposed night-hunt, including several teams that would be sent out to hide the direction they were really going. By the time Lan Wangji caught up with him, Jiang Cheng was already pushing Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen to identify some towns near the area Xue Yang had last been seen and where they’d found Wen Ning.

He’d also pushed them to agree to start to set out as soon as possible, and unsurprisingly they’d agreed.

Lan Wangji thought there might be a little time to talk when Xiao Xingchen had bowed out to go fetch Wen Ning, but apparently they’d kept him quite close as they were back in almost no time at all, not enough time to coax any sort of real discussion out of Jiang Cheng, who was at the moment pretending Lan Wangji didn’t exist – and then, once Wen Ning arrived, even Lan Wangji didn’t have much desire to speak.

Wen Ning was dressed in ragged clothing, his hair hung loose and limp on his shoulders, his limbs bound with chains – his eyes were pure white and his veins raised and black, an inhuman snarl on his lips of the sort that had graced that mindless corpse filled with rage. It was probably what he’d been like all that time ago on the Burial Mounds, before Wei Wuxian had managed to get his consciousness back…it was as if Wei Wuxian had never done anything to him, never returned him to himself, never helped him.

Lan Wangji had barely been able to look at him before.

But all of that jealousy had suddenly seemed useless and petty.

Of course, Jiang Cheng could have spelled his name with the characters for petty and jealous. He hadn’t had any such issues with Wen Ning’s wretched appearance, or at least he hadn’t seemed to – he’d just dealt with the matter practically, ordering his most trusted subordinates to put Wen Ning into a warded storeroom for safekeeping. It happened to be the same one that they used to interrogate demonic cultivators, though Lan Wangji suspected it wasn’t entirely a coincidence.

(He’d been briefly distracted by rolling his eyes in fond amusement at how predictable Jiang Cheng was sometimes, and when he next focused Jiang Cheng had already bound Wen Ning into an array to restrict his movement and posted guards all around.)

“Are you sure about this?” Xiao Xingchen asked anxiously, his eyes drifting over Wen Ning.

“Very sure,” Jiang Cheng said harshly, seemingly cold and careless, the way that had led so many outsiders to misunderstand him in all these years. “Stopping Xue Yang is the priority. Once he’s dead, we’ll help you figure out how to fix up Wen Ning, as agreed.”

But then he hesitated briefly.

“…why didn’t you try taking out the nails?”

That was Jiang Cheng in a nutshell, Lan Wangji reflected. Harsh and prickly on the outside, soft on the inside.

“We didn’t dare,” Song Zichen replied solemnly. “For fear of side effects.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, accepting it, then waved his hand and ordered Jiang Meimei to watch over the children while they went out night-hunting. Lan Wangji had known, of course, that Jiang Cheng could be brutally efficient, but it was still a pleasure to see the Lotus Pier in set into swift and efficient motion: goodbyes were said to the children, work was handed over to the proper places, a delegation of trusted disciples capable of handling themselves selected and prepared, and then they were ready for an immediate departure.

There’d been no time to fret or worry, for Jiang Cheng to torment himself with doubts and self-blame – or so Lan Wangji had thought. Even after they’d arrived to the area Xiao Xingchen had indicated, he was just as efficient, assigning everyone into pairs like he would for a normal night-hunt, sending Xiao Xingcheng and Song Zichen one way and taking Lan Wangji along with him in another…

Lan Wangji thought that Jiang Cheng was handling this whole business remarkably well.

That belief had lasted right up until the pit.

They’d been walking down one of the more obscure paths between the various towns, looking for any trace of a demonic cultivator or any other sign that Xue Yang might have passed this way or that, and there had unexpectedly been a trap laid right in the middle of the path, a gigantic pit opening up under their feet.

Not that such a trap was much of a threat to a cultivator, of course. Lan Wangji had leapt up at once, easily evading it, but for whatever reason, Jiang Cheng had not, falling in with the rocks and the dirt.

Lan Wangji waited, but Jiang Cheng didn’t get out, either.

So he went in after him.

Jiang Cheng was lying on his back and staring up at the sky. He appeared unharmed.

Lan Wangji walked over and looked down at him. After a moment, he extended a foot and prodded at Jiang Cheng’s leg with his toe.

“What,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding irritable.

“I was only wondering when your legs had stopped working,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng snorted and turned his head away.

“After all, if they were working, you could have jumped out, rather than fall in.” Lan Wangji glanced around the pit they were in. It was impressively deep – the rim of the pit was at least twice his height – but that was absolutely nothing to a cultivator. “You could in fact jump out now.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

Ah, Lan Wangji thought to himself, I see how it is.

He really should have expected something like this.

He swept his sleeves back and sat down, settling his clothing around him in a comfortable manner, and reflected to himself that this was probably going to take a while for Jiang Cheng to get over himself.

Not that Lan Wangji wouldn’t help, of course.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked in his most irritatingly solicitous manner.

“Fuck off.”

As expected.

Lan Wangji had long since figured Jiang Cheng out. When bad things happened, Jiang Cheng generally started by getting angry and trying to solve the problem, often violently. When it turned out that the problem wasn’t something that could be solved straightforwardly, he would scream and shout as if he could vent out all his emotions, never causing real damage beyond the most superficial insults that anyone who knew him could easily ignore. Eventually, the storm would pass, and things would resolve themselves one way or the other.

Lan Wangji had, by now, years of experience in dealing with this type of Jiang Cheng.

For matters relating to his parents or sister or Wei Wuxian, though, he’d found that Jiang Cheng had a far less tenable set of reactions. He would turn his violent anger inwards, his mind growing unstable with guilt and self-hatred squeezed into an irrational hatred of everything around him, his never easy temperament worsened by many degrees; he would blame himself for everything, tormenting himself with questions that would never be answered, castigating himself for things that were not and could not have been his fault. If not prevented or distracted, he could even start harming himself through too much work and too little sleep, as if he thought he could simply will himself into having enough strength to never let anyone he loved down ever again.

That was the present Jiang Cheng.

“I thought you’d decided to stop doing this,” Lan Wangji said after a little while had passed without any developments. “On account of not wanting to show the children a bad example.”

“Fuck off.”

In fact, Jiang Cheng had gotten far better these past few years. If Lan Wangji were being honest, they had helped each other get better, dragging each other kicking and screaming down the path towards wellness. No longer did Lan Wangji have to sit by, unable to do anything, as the smell of blood and bile drifted through the wall that separated their rooms, and the days that he classified as Jiang Cheng’s good days – even very good days – were by now far outnumbering the occasional bad ones.

Lan Wangji himself had been getting better, too. Jiang Cheng no longer had to make uncalled for and very pointed comments about unhealthy coping mechanisms, whether alcohol or seclusion or playing guqin until his fingers were raw and bleeding, staying awake to avoid the nightmares or retreating into a stony silence that worried everyone around him – it had taken a series of extremely vicious fights that involved throwing the word ‘hypocrite’ around to make Lan Wangji sore enough to truly rededicate himself to regulating his conduct.

After all, he was a Lan, however differently situated and distanced he’d gotten from the Cloud Recesses. What was the point of wearing his forehead ribbon if he couldn’t exercise self-discipline?

Certainly he could exercise it better than Jiang Cheng.

Lan Wangji meditated on a time on the idea that perhaps Jiang Cheng was his punishment for arrogance.

(Perhaps competitive spite was not quite the behavioral motivator that his ancestors would have preferred, but for a while, it was all Lan Wangji had had. And then, somehow, implausibly, despite himself, it had actually started to work, which was…Lan Wangji was not thinking about that.)

After a long while, Jiang Cheng finally said, “It’s not that bad, actually. It’s just – a lot, that’s all.”

“Mm.”

“…what’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Cheng eyed him sidelong. “That was a very meaningful ‘mm’.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji deliberately used the same inflection and tone, not varying it one iota.

“I will kick you.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes at him until Jiang Cheng seemed to be seriously considering following through on his promise. At that point, Lan Wangji decided to take pity – as much to avoid a footprint on his robes as for Jiang Cheng’s benefit.

“You are experiencing negative emotions in connection with Wen Ning’s reappearance, and your attempt to vent by murdering Xue Yang has been impeded on account of not being able to find him immediately,” he said, his voice carefully monotone and disinterested. It wouldn’t do to show Jiang Cheng that he was emotionally involved in this conversation. “You have accordingly given up on life.”

There were a few more moments of silence.

“…stop knowing me so well. And I haven’t given up on life, I’m just – resting. For a moment. That’s all.”

Lan Wangji pointedly ignored him, repressing the smile that wanted to come to his lips. The fact that Jiang Cheng was talking was, in fact, a good sign, and an indication that he wasn’t doing as bad as all that; he hadn’t lost his reason or become unstable, he wasn’t lashing out, he hadn’t kicked into an unreasonable spiral of self-blame.

Anyway, it wasn’t as if Lan Wangji didn’t have similarly conflicted feelings about Wen Ning that he could use a little more time to work through – and besides, he reasoned, Xue Yang had been on the run for years. He’d be hard to track down, hard to corner, hard to catch.

A short break wouldn’t impede them.

Of course, it was barely any time after he’d thought that when someone came out of the woods near the path they were on and shouted, “Hey, you in there! Fellow strangers! Is something the matter? Do you need help?”

Lan Wangji suppressed a sigh, even as Jiang Cheng twitched, rather violently. Probably he was abruptly becoming aware of how humiliating it would be for cultivators of their status to be found sitting in the bottom of a ditch.

Lan Wangji was also not especially looking forward to that.

He opened his mouth to respond, but unexpectedly, before he could, Jiang Cheng reached out and grabbed his arm, fingers squeezing so tightly that it was almost painful.

Lan Wangji glanced at him, seeking an explanation, but Jiang Cheng shook his head in negation.

“You’re both powerful cultivators, so if everything was all right, you could just jump out,” the person standing above them continued.

Lan Wangji turned his glance at Jiang Cheng into a meaningfully pointed look instead, only to get a crude gesture in return.

Well, at least Jiang Cheng was feeling more like himself.

“I noticed you haven’t jumped out, though, and you haven’t moved for a while…did someone seal your spiritual energy? Is the pit actually a trapping array? Is that why you can’t get out?”

Lan Wangji could feel his eyebrows going up slightly in surprise: clearly, the person who had found them was also a cultivator, apparently, and a clever one, too, to think of valid explanations for their (non-existent) plight.

The part of him that had been assisting Jiang Cheng in running the Lotus Pier for years now immediately thought of recruitment. Much of the current Jiang sect was made up of former rogue cultivators having accepted positions as guest disciples or even been adopted in, yet their ranks were still smaller than the other Great Sects. They could use all the clever cultivators they could find.

Lan Wangji glanced up and saw the face peering down at them from the edge of the pit: his first impression was of shining black eyes and a radiant smile with adorable little tiger teeth that reminded him a little of Mo Xuanyu. The face was handsome, with a high nose bridge and thin red lips, the chin a little pointy in a way that made his whole face seem full of gleeful mischief when he grinned.

It was a nice smile, Lan Wangji thought, cheerful and carefree, and felt a nostalgic tug on his heart.

Even the cultivator’s voice was pleasant enough – light and lively, as if he was at any point on the verge of laughing at some joke as he kept chattering on and on, hypothesizing about reasons they might not be able to get out of the pit, as if he were trying to fill the silence alone. There were a few instances in which he seemed to be attempting to disguise his voice, only to forget a moment later and resume his regular voice, but then he was a little younger than they were; he might just be trying to seem older than he was. They’d certainly encountered rogue cultivators like that before.

“…but I suppose it doesn’t really matter what the reason is! You two just hold on, all right? I’ll go find a rope!”

The face disappeared before Lan Wangji could signal to him that all was well.

Clever, insightful, and resourceful.

“Promising,” Lan Wangji remarked to Jiang Cheng. Naturally he wouldn’t extend an offer of recruitment without approval from the master of the Lotus Pier, especially when Jiang Cheng was there to give it, but Jiang Cheng usually agreed with his assessment –

“You are joking,” Jiang Cheng hissed, and Lan Wangji blinked, surprised at the intensity and venom in his tone. “That was Xue Yang!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened. He hadn’t seen Xue Yang before: he had been in seclusion when all of that had happened, though of course he’d heard all about it later from Jiang Cheng. But everyone had been very clear about how ruthless and inhuman and wicked Xue Yang was, how his eyes were full of disdain towards all living things, how his aura was chilling and offensive.

Nothing at all like the young man that he’d seen just now.

“Impossible.”

“Not impossible. Listen, I was at his first trial – I remember what he looked like. There’s no doubt about it. He’s even missing his little finger!”

That did seem conclusive.

“It seems Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen were right to think he was here,” Lan Wangji observed, and put his hand on Bichen. “Why hasn’t he recognized us and fled, though? He must know that no person from a righteous sect would be willing to tolerate his existence.”

“I was lying flat, he probably couldn’t see me,” Jiang Cheng said. “And you’re wearing the wrong color for a Lan.”

Lan Wangji was in fact wearing one of the sets of robes he used for night-hunts around the Lotus Pier. It had seemed wrong, somehow, to allow the merits of his actions to be ascribed to the Lan sect – only his forehead ribbon remained the same, and the style he had long ago grown accustomed to, but the colors were wholly different. The result was something neither quite of the Cloud Recesses nor of the Lotus Pier…yes, he could see how a cultivator with a weaker golden core might not have identified him.

“It could still be a trap,” he pointed out. “Xue Yang did not escape from his captors so many times out of luck. From what you have told me, he is extremely clever, and extremely dangerous. You remember what he nearly did at the Baixue Temple.”

“Of course I remember. I told you about it myself!” Jiang Cheng frowned, then groaned. “I suppose there’s nothing for it. We’ll have to play along for the moment, since it seems that he genuinely thinks our spiritual energy has been locked away. We hide our faces so he doesn’t see, climb up whatever rope he gets us, and when we get up top, attack before he has a chance to put his own plans into action.”

Lan Wangji nodded. “You attack from the front with Zidian, I will come from the side with Bichen; dodging one will lead him into the path of the other. If we are lucky, we can cut off his head before he can summon any fierce corpse to come to his aid.”

It was an approach they’d used with especially vicious demonic cultivators before with success.

“It’s a plan, then.” A pause. “There’s only one problem.”

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows.

“For this plan to work, we’re going to have to let ourselves get rescued – by Xue Yang.”

Lan Wangji felt his lips purse as if he’d just bitten into a lemon.

“This is the most humiliating moment in my life,” Jiang Cheng announced.

Lan Wangji shook his head but agreed.

Luckily it wasn’t very much later that he heard Xue Yang’s footsteps. Not long after that, the man himself reappeared, still chattering like a monkey – apparently he’d found rope in an old woodcutter’s hut – and then they had to listen to the entire process of him trying to find an appropriately strong tree to tie the rope to, since he didn’t want to risk using his own strength in the event whatever had affected them unexpectedly spread to him.

Lan Wangji spent the time watching Jiang Cheng’s face, which was going through a journey involving at least three epic poems and one war-song that involved self-incineration or possibly honorable suicide.

“All right, update, good news, I finally found a big old one, definitely won’t snap at the first push the way the last one did. This time it’s really going to work. I’m going to throw in the rope now, all right? Stand ready!”

A rope dropped in.

It was helpfully knotted at the end, presumably in case the spiritual suppression that Xue Yang had decided was afflicting them was also affecting their muscles and they needed something to grab onto.

It was very considerate, if utterly unnecessary.

Still, there wasn’t anything for it. Kindness to strangers, if that was what this was rather than some sort of especially clever trap, could not erase all of Xue Yang’s former crimes. They had all agreed: he had to die. They couldn’t even reverse their original position on killing him on sight and try to push for a trial now – a trial was too risky. Xue Yang had escaped too many times before, using the kindness of others as an opportunity to continue to wreck havoc, and Lan Wangji was unwilling to see any more innocent lives be harmed by him.

It did seem a bit of a pity, though. Xue Yang didn’t seem nearly as bad as the stories said…

No, this wasn’t Wei Wuxian all over again. This was different. There were eyewitnesses to Xue Yang’s crimes, which were far more malicious and cruel than anything that had been attributed to Wei Wuxian, and Xue Yang had even admitted to them, swearing that he would continue to act wretchedly.

There was no going back.

Lan Wangji reached out to take the knotted rope in his hand.

Jiang Cheng snatched it away before he could.

Lan Wangji frowned at him, but Jiang Cheng didn’t notice; he was too busy staring at the rope with a slightly wild-eyed expression, like a cat that had just seen a snake.

“Hey, you down there! Did you see the rope? Have you’ve got it now?” The rope jerked a little, meeting resistance from Jiang Cheng’s hands. “Good, I see you have! Now climb up!”

Lan Wangji waited, but Jiang Cheng didn’t move.

Lan Wangji waited more.

“…are you having problems climbing up?” Xue Yang asked. “Do you need me to come pick you up? I could probably manage to carry you in my arms one at a time –”

Lan Wangji had his pride. There was allowing himself to be rescued by the enemy to obtain an advantage in the upcoming battle, and then there was allowing himself to be carried out by a mass-murderer. Intending on forestalling the unthinkable, he reached out and gave Jiang Cheng a firm shove in the shoulder, knocking him sideways and, hopefully, out of his daze.

Jiang Cheng hissed at him like an upset chicken – Lan Wangji owned waterfowl now and was in a position to testify as to the similarity – then turned back to stare at the rope.

“Kuizhou isn’t near the ocean, right?” he asked, voice pitched low. “Or any major river?”

“Not as far as I’m aware, no,” Lan Wangji said slowly, puzzled by the utterly bizarre question. “Why –”

Jiang Cheng was on his feet and leaping out of the pit before he could finish the question, precisely as they’d already agreed they would not do, as it would immediately give away any surprise advantage they might already have.

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, reminded himself that he actually liked Jiang Cheng most of the time, and leapt up after him.

“What’s this?” Jiang Cheng said, shaking the knot at Xue Yang’s face. “Tell me, what’s this?”

“A…rope?” Xue Yang said hesitantly, his eyes wide as saucer plates – presumably at seeing the great and terrible Sandu Shengshou miraculously appear right in front of him – and for once Lan Wangji’s sympathies were entirely with him. He knew Jiang Cheng very well, better, or so he thought, than anyone else currently yet living, and yet he had no idea what was going through his mind right now.

“Xue Yang,” Lan Wangji said, deciding he was done with this conversation and drawing Bichen. “It’s over.”

“It’s…Lan..? Wait, what are you even wearing – oh shit!”

Xue Yang hopped back, ducking under away from Bichen’s first sweep. Normally, this was when Jiang Cheng would whip out Zidian to tangle in the demonic culivator’s legs, but Jiang Cheng still seemed possessed by whatever had gotten into him; he didn’t do anything.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. From over Xue Yang’s head, Lan Wangji could see Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen cresting the horizon, each one on their sword and shooting toward Xue Yang with grim expressions.

Even if Xue Yang summoned corpses now, it would all be over soon.

“Xue Yang!” Song Zichen called, and Xue Yang turned to look. “Your crimes end today!”

Xue Yang took a step back, but Xiao Xingchen was faster – he was already leaping down, Shuanghua leaping up to his hand in a single graceful movement. His white robes swirled around him, and Lan Wangji was immediately reminded that the cultivation world called him “the bright moon and the gentle breeze”, accompanying Song Zichen’s “distant snow and cold frost”.

His strike was sure and true, perfectly aimed. Xue Yang’s hand dropped to his waist, reaching for Jiangzai, but it would be too late, the attack somehow taking him by surprise despite everything –

The ringing sound of metal on metal was nearly deafening, and Lan Wangji stared in shock: Shuanghua’s beautiful strike had been blocked by Sandu.

By Jiang Cheng.

“What are you doing?” Xiao Xingchen exclaimed, startled, and Lan Wangji wanted to ask the same question.

“Don’t hurt him!” Jiang Cheng shouted back, his teeth pulled back in a snarl. “Don’t you dare!”

Lan Wangji stared at him, wondering if Jiang Cheng’s grief and instability had suddenly driven him utterly mad. Why would he defend Xue Yang, of all people?

It wasn’t the first time Jiang Cheng had acted irregularly or irrationally, of course. Demonic cultivators were always a sensitive spot for him, convinced as he was that Wei Wuxian would one day come back, but those episodes only happened when one of the demonic cultivators they found did something that was too familiar, too reminiscent. That sort of thing only happened during a bad day, a bad time, and Jiang Cheng hadn’t seemed that bad.

He’d been talking, even making jokes. He hadn’t seemed near to the point of mental collapse.

Lan Wangji hadn’t expected such an outburst to happen here, given that Xue Yang had never reminded Jiang Cheng of Wei Wuxian before – and anyway what could have been the trigger? The smiling? The chattering? The improbable rescue?

“He’s been affected by something,” Song Zichen deduced, his voice cold as ever. He was flanking Xiao Xingchen, planning to duck around Jiang Cheng’s defense to skewer Xue Yang, who seemed to be having some trouble maneuvering his own sword for some reason, the blade either refusing to cooperate or his muscles seemingly not answering to the actions he wanted. “Hanguang-jun, restrain Jiang Wanyin. We will help him once Xue Yang has been eliminated.”

Jiang Cheng affected? But with what? What could possibly do –

“Lan Wangji, help me!” Jiang Cheng howled, throwing himself forward against Xiao Xingchen, who he had so admired only a few days earlier, against Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle.

The behavior was truly very uncharacteristic of him, completely unlike him.

Lan Wangji drew Bichen, moving forward –

And blocked Song Zichen’s sword with his own.

“You know what you’re doing,” Lan Wangji told Jiang Cheng, meaning you had better and also I trust you, don’t let me down.

Jiang Cheng shot him a look of desperate gratitude. “Don’t let him get away,” he shouted, and for a moment Lan Wangji thought he meant Song Zichen before realizing he probably meant Xue Yang – where had Xue Yang gone? He’d been there only a moment or so before –

Dividing one’s attention during a fight was never a good idea, and it was even less a good idea when the opponent was as skilled as Song Zichen. In that moment, Song Zichen feinted and brought his sword in, Lan Wangji turning to meet him, but he knew he would be too late –

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Xue Yang had managed to get his sword out, and now threw himself out of the bushes to try to defend Lan Wangji. It was rather a beautiful move, too, seamlessly interrupting the flow of Song Zichen’s attack while also leaving Lan Wangji enough room to complete his own parry and start a counterattack – it was so well done that Lan Wangji briefly had the illusion that they had fought together before, familiar with each other’s moves.

“Sect Leader Jiang – Hanguang-jun – what are you doing?” Xiao Xingchen asked, utterly bewildered, and Lan Wangji had to admit he felt the same. “Why is he defending you? Why are you defending him? This is Xue Yang!”

“He’s not Xue Yang,” Jiang Cheng snarled. “He’s Wei Wuxian. And I’m going to kill him myself!”

…oh, Lan Wangji thought. I see.

This again.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wei wuxian #xiao xingchen #song lan #my fic #my fics #delight in misery #it has been literally a year and a half since I updated this #I did not mean for that to happen #I hope that updating it makes someone happy at least #assuming anyone remembers anything that was happening in this fic

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