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rosethornewrites · 1 year

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Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 14

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Near Death Experiences, Attempted Murder, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Siblings, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective Lan WangJi, Protective Lán Qǐrén, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Bad Parent Yú Zǐyuān, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Depression, Minor Injuries, Painting, Gift Giving, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Has a Fear of Dogs, Good Sibling Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Good Sibling Jiāng Yànlí

Summary: A confrontation.

Notes: See end.

Parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

AO3 link

——————

After dinner, Jiang Yanli dressed Wei Ying like he was going to war, which Wangji had to admit, he was in a way—even identifying the culprit who applied the locking talisman, Jiang Wanyin had pointed out, didn’t mean there was only one. Hers, however, was a war of symbols.

The robe she chose for him to wear was one he hadn’t seen before, and from Wei Ying’s reaction, he hadn’t either. It was clearly made for a special occasion, not to be worn daily.

The embroidery was intricate and reversible, the look as delicate as a painting while using the five-color system. The fabric was a deeper blue, with a prominent motif of plum trees and blossoms across the bottom, most of the way to the simple light blue belt, done in delicate predominately white embroidery to enhance the symbolism of courage and moral purity. A pair of magpies graced the branches of the trees, a reminder of their impending marriage. Stalking the trunks, a beautifully-rendered tiger, representing Wei Ying’s courage and strength, but also a symbol of protection. Blue dragons stretched up the sleeves, their heads resting on the chest, symbols of healing and harmony. Across the back was a nature scene filled with animals and foliage that kept to a similar motif, from bamboo along a river to soaring cranes.

Included was a modest detachable collar, a four-panel yunjian that had ornate embroidery of mountains and clouds, the first to indicate steadfastness, the latter to remind that Wei Ying was now of GusuLan. Each shoulder was graced with a blue and silver butterfly among the clouds, a symbol of happy marriage.

Wangji wondered if this had been meant to be a wedding gift, and Jiang Yanli was now using it to send a message. It had clearly been made with Wei Ying in mind, the sleeves narrower at the wrists as he preferred. Something so ornate showed his worth and status to any who looked, a statement piece to be treasured.

She offered no explanation for the robe, simply choosing comfortable blue under-robes for it and ordering Jiang Wanyin to help him change. Wei Ying made no effort to protest, clearly overcome by the gift.

When Wei Ying emerged, he was resplendent, the belt resting at the narrowest part of his waist and accentuating his slim (still too-slim) figure. Wangji was stunned silent and Wei Ying blushed under his gaze.

Jiang Yanli then tackled his hair, taming it carefully with comb and oil, then using one of the more intricate Lan hairstyles she had learned to weave the forehead ribbon into the crown. She presented a new ribbon to him, made of mulberry silk, a brilliant crimson embroidered with delicate silver clouds. She used the gentian guan and the plum blossom hair stick, more clear messages about his status.

When she was finished, she draped the cloak from Wangji over his shoulders, fussing so it was open enough to show his clothing and thus make her intended statement—which seemed to be in part that Wei Ying was worthy of such finery.

It was nearing the end of the dinner hour when Jiang Yanli finished by straightening his headband and tweaking his nose, smiling.

Jiang Wanyin stood and handed Wei Ying his sword, and he slid it carefully into his belt as they left the guest house. They applied the locking talisman, which Wangji knew would continue to be used even after the attackers were rooted out, the incident having shattered the sense of security in the Cloud Recesses.

They made their way to the mingshi, in the chill of the late evening, the scent of impending snow on the air. From a distance, they could see the crowd, hundreds of people, all disciples and servants, even elders.

Wei Ying reached out subtly, grasping blindly, and Wangji took his hand immediately, squeezing gently to reassure him.

Such an act would send its own message, would show their relationship clearly and make Wei Ying’s connection to the Cloud Recesses inviolable. The Jiangs flanking them, they skirted the crowd and joined Shufu and Xiongzhang on the porch of the mingshi. A few murmurs broke out, the crowd having otherwise been Lan-silent, as they did. Their appearance made it clear the investigation into the acts against Wei Ying was complete, and would be dealt with tonight.

Wangji was struck suddenly by the symbolism of choosing the mingshi, the implication that a malevolent spirit would be summoned and dealt with. No doubt some of the clan recognized the message, at least those who had some proficiency in the gentlemanly arts. He was certain the more advanced also were reading the meaning of Wei Ying’s robe. He wondered how much of this had been coordinated with Jiang Yanli, or if the marriage of symbolism was a happy accident.

Glancing at Wei Ying, he could see that he had made the same realization and was worrying at the inside of his lip with his teeth. Wangji squeezed his hand again, hoping to remind him he wasn’t alone, and was rewarded with a soft smile.

Shufu cleared his throat and the murmurs died into silence, not even the sound of shifting bodies, as the crowd waited for what would come, a sort of breathlessness.

“I have gathered you here to root out the evil in our midst,” Lan Qiren announced, “so that they may be exorcized from our clan.”

Wangji was pleased Shufu made the implicit, explicit, leaving no room for ignorance on the symbolism that had been carefully brought together for this moment.

The silence in the wake of his announcement was so complete it was almost unnerving, and Wangji made himself survey the gathered mass of people for expressions that might betray the culprit even before their unmasking, but too many people looked upset and unnerved for him to tell.

The safety and serenity of the sect had been shattered by these events, and Wangji knew from having overheard disciples’ conversations that this unease and sense of mistrust had not been limited to Wei Ying and himself. What had been done was an evil againt the Cloud Recesses, and even exorcising it would still leave the unease and mistrust behind, wounds the sect would need to heal from.

Lan Qiren held up the talisman Wei Ying and Lan Tayi had produced, and Wangji realized he hadn’t seen the talisman master in the crowd, but remembered his comments about experimental talismans—he was likely toward the back, perhaps with other trusted clan members who had been ruled out, ready to stop anyone who might consider escape.

“The last craven attack on Disciple Wei involved a talisman charged with the attacker’s qi, which we managed to preserve, and we have discovered a method to track that qi to the jindan from which it originated.”

Xiongzhang presented the intact locking talisman, displaying it for the clan, and without any further pageantry Shufu affixed the tracking talisman to it and activated it.

As designed, the newly-connected talismans sent a wave of qi through the crowd, causing an odd sort of collective flinch. The effects of the talisman weren’t painful, but an unexpected wave of qi rushing through one could be very startling.

“Check the hands of the cultivators to your left and right,” Shufu ordered, and immediate rustling broke out as the crowd did just that.

In barely a moment, someone cried out in surprise.

“Report.”

Lan Qiren��s tone brooked no argument.

“Disciple Su’s hands, Lan-xiansheng! They’ve turned black!” a voice rose, edged with confusion.

Almost immediately, the area around the voice cleared to create space around him, revealing the speaker and a disciple trying to hide his hands in his sleeves.

Wangji took a moment to place him as the mediocre guqin player who had accompanied him and Xiongzhang to deliver the betrothal gifts. Who had therefore heard Jiang Wanyin tell him of Wei Ying’s fear of dogs, his reaction to lotuses, and had attacked Wei Ying with the very things Wangji was supposed to protect him from.

A rage unlike any he had ever felt before consumed him, only tempered and controlled when Wei Ying squeezed his hand. He took several deep breaths, focusing on his beloved, and only when he could resist the urge to unsheath Bichen did he dare turn his attention away.

There was no killing in the Cloud Recesses.

“Disciple Su, explain yourself.”

Xiongzhang’s voice was absolutely frosty, his words clipped in his anger, and Wangji realized that if he had recognized Disciple Su he could be blaming himself.

Disciple Su—soon to be former, at least—gave up trying to hide his hands and sneered.

“Why should I be ashamed of protecting the sect? That arrogant nobody, marrying into the main family? It’s disgraceful that the Second Jade has lowered himself to this trash, and he should be the one censured for sullying his robes in the gutter.”

Wei Ying’s grip on his hand became momentarily painful, and Wangji wondered briefly if he thought he would lose control, until he spoke.

“Judge me all you want, but you are not qualified to judge Lan Zhan.”

The grip had been unconscious, Wei Ying’s own rage and protectiveness of him, and Wangji was torn between wanting to insist that he also defend himself and wanting to do inappropriate things to him in public; he loved him so much.

“You were expelled from your sect for your overreach. A servant’s son should respect his betters,” Disciple Su spat. “Dogs—”

Abruptly his mouth shut and instead of finishing the crass chengyu, he made protesting noises—Shufu had Silenced him, blessedly cutting off the abuse.

Wangji was also disgusted at the poor use of the proverb; even if he was trying to disparage Wei Ying’s parentage, the phrase was about bad habits, not social status or caste. He was clearly a poor student.

“Some judgment, coming from a sneak-thief who would seek to harm our brother,” Jiang Wanyin hissed, his words audible to all gathered.

“Enough. Gossip is forbidden,” Shufu reminded the crowd. “You committed crimes against an inner disciple, the future husband of the sect heir. You have damaged the security of the entire sect. Punishment has been decided. Exile, recompense for damages, and kun xing.”

A shocked murmur ran through the crowd, though many faces showed approval. Disciple Su might have allies, but the vast majority of GusuLan clearly disapproved of his actions and saw the punishment as just.

Wangji was more focused on the emphasis on Wei Ying’s status as his betrothed, but it seemed Shufu was making clear that the attempt to prevent their marriage was unsuccessful.

Su Minshan drew his sword and spit blood on the ground as he forcibly broke Silence, and those around him backed off further.

“Wei Wuxian, I challenge you.”

A duel would change nothing, but Wangji’s best guess was that he was trying to save face or go out with a fight. Or perhaps he did not know of Wei Ying’s prowess and actually thought he could harm him, further solidifying Wangji’s poor opinion of his worth as a disciple.

He wasn’t prepared for Wei Ying to let go of his hand, turn to Shufu and Xiongzhang, and bow.

“This disciple requests authorization to answer Disciple Su’s challenge, Lan-zongzhu.”

There was no sign of his prior reluctance toward this course of action, and the change was stunning to Wangji, the serious set of his brow as he stood resplendent in robes that displayed his status beautifully. This was not Wei Ying putting on an appearance of being okay to reassure. This was a Wei Ying he had seen infrequently, usually during night hunts or at competitions—his true strength, not a show. This had been absent the last several years, and Wangji took in the sight with joy and relief.

Further, Wei Ying’s act of following the rule against fighting without authorization, in front of the entire sect, made it clear he was of GusuLan, the image clearly already placing Su Minshan as the one breaking clan orthodoxy so publicly.

Xiongzhang glanced to one side and Wangji followed his gaze to the head healer, who nodded. The healers would monitor Wei Ying, but he was medically cleared to fight.

“Permission granted, Wei-gongzi.”

Wangji could see the reluctance in Xiongzhang, his fear that perhaps Wei Ying, while able physically and in cultivation, could falter under the stress of the situation, could be injured. But Wei Ying’s demeanor was promising, though Wangji couldn’t help but be concerned anyway. He knew his skills, but could not help fearing for his safety.

Wei Ying turned to him and offered a gentle, reassuring smile, then asked him sweetly if he would hold his cloak for him so it wouldn’t be damaged, calling him A-Zhan in front of the entire clan when he did and setting his ears aflame at the intimacy of his tone.

“Of course, A-Ying,” he returned.

He kept his voice just as conversational as Wei Ying’s, ensuring his words would also be heard, pleased when his cheeks reddened and he ducked his head. It was delightfully shameless in front of an audience, but he didn’t care.

Wei Ying hopped off the porch of the mingshi to approach Su Minshan, who was scowling deeply. He stopped about ten feet away, and bowed, as was polite.

Su Minshan did not return the gesture, instead adopting an aggressive stance.

Wei Ying unsheathed Suibian and dropped into an advanced GusuLan style stance, rather than a stance from the Jiang style that he had grown up with, one that was visibly better than his opponent’s.

“You should rotate your left foot a little more,” Wei Ying said mildly.

Su Minshan reddened and glared, scoffing

“How arrogant—you barely know the Lan style!” he spat. “You and Lan Wangji, looking down on everyone like you’re better than them, it makes me sick.”

Wangji could see Wei Ying’s jaw clench, his anger never on his own behalf.

“Lan Zhan doesn’t look down on people; if anything, you’ve done nothing to merit his notice.”

The comment was not well-received, not that Wei Ying had intended it to be, and Su Minshan charged with a sloppy swing that Wei Ying easily avoided with a nimble flip over him, then lashed out with his sheath to smack his opponent’s sword arm, nearly disarming him. It was the sort of thing a training instructor would do to scold a junior.

“Your grip is faulty, and you broadcast your thrusts, making them predictable.”

“You—!” Su Minshan hissed before whirling and slicing at him, but Wei Ying was already moving smoothly back, the blade cutting nothing but air.

The move also pulled him off-balance, and Wei Ying told him he needed to plant his feet better to avoid losing his footing, which only served to enrage him further.

Wangji realized abruptly that Wei Ying had turned this into a teaching match, as though a duel with Su Minshan was beneath him. He was handily demonstrating the man’s mediocrity as a Lan disciple to those gathered, an extra sort of humiliation. He knew well enough that Wei Ying wasn’t doing so in anger over what had been done to him—instead it was likely a reaction to Su Minshan’s insults toward Wangji. He hoped someday Wei Ying would value himself as he did others.

The match also served to show exactly why Wei Ying had been so high ranked among their generation, the skills and talent he had with the sword. He had taught at Lotus Pier, Wangji remembered, before everything, and he wondered if Wei Ying would enjoy such a role at the Cloud Recesses at some point. This displayed his knowledge of the fundamentals, the need to control one’s body precisely in the art of the sword.

Altogether, it was riling Su Minshan’s temper, making him sloppier.

This continued for some minutes until a leg thrust out from the crowd in an attempt to trip Wei Ying. Wangji’s heart clenched, but he avoided it with a short hop that didn’t interfere with his retreat from Su Minshan’s blade in the least. He could hear Jiang Yanli’s gasp behind him.

In another moment, the perpetrator was on the ground, wrapped in a green rope of energy that writhed around him, and the crowd parted around him as he struggled. One of Lan Tayi’s talismans, he guessed, and a co-conspirator outed.

The bout continued, Wei Ying continuing to defend, never going on the offensive. Wangji’s unease was growing, but he wasn’t certain why until, as Wei Ying was parrying a blow, he broke from his stance to pivot suddenly, narrowly avoiding a blade stabbing at him from behind. Jiang Yanli yelled his name in alarm, but he quickly handled this situation, lashing out with his sheath, cracking the offending disciple across the face. The young man dropped like a stone, his nose clearly broken, dyeing his robes with his own blood.

“No killing in the Cloud Recesses!” Su She hissed, as though he was affronted by rule-breaking after all he’d done.

“I pulled the blow,” he answered, swiftly wiping blood from his sheath onto the downed man’s robes. “He’ll live, but he won’t be happy about it for a while once he wakes up.”

Wei Ying was purposefully luring out the co-conspirators with this battle, Wangji realized hollowly, leading them to feel Su She was being disrespected through his treatment of the duel so they would seek to help, putting his life at risk to root them out in this manner.

He didn’t dare turn from the fight to look to Xiongzhang or Shufu, to see if they had realized and would put a stop to it, nor the Jiang siblings. Wei Ying was dodging an attack, Su She vocally angry about his dismissal of the well-being of his unconscious co-conspirator, who was already being attended to by a healer.

Wangji tensed as Wei Ying cracked a reaching hand behind him with his sheath, ready to put a stop to it, but Jiang Wanyin grabbed his arm before he could.

“He has to do this. You know that. He’ll be fine.”

The next time someone tried to come from the crowd, bystanders restrained him and he never had the opportunity to attack, disarmed and thrown to the ground. A talisman was applied, and the young man was immediately restrained by thorny vines that shot from the earth around him to hold him fast. It restored some of his faith in his sect.

Wei Ying was being supported and defended by his fellow GusuLan disciples, perhaps the impact of his respect for the rules, perhaps based on his prowess with the sect fighting technique after only about a year of training, or perhaps because they knew his circumstances, how badly he’d already been abused, and this allowed them to help him find some justice. But also because these attacks had violated their home, destroying their sense of security.

He forced himself to relax his muscles, though his grip on Bichen was still tight.

If he intervened in this fight, he would also be undermining Wei Ying’s decision and his newfound confidence, which could have disastrous effects on his mental state in implying he needed Lan Wangji’s assistance.

Wangji wanted so badly to jump in, but he had to trust Wei Ying, could only support him from the sidelines, could only hope that this would help his zhiji instead of setting his recovery back.

The fight, if it could be called that, continued, Wei Ying’s swordsmanship clearly li above Su Minshan’s, with Wei Ying commenting on his sloppy footwork and occasionally hitting him across the fingers with his sheath when he was particularly sloppy with a swing, and offering advice on correcting his form. The comments and advice were delivered mildly, in sharp contrast with the blows—Wangji was fairly certain he’d broken at least one of his opponent’s fingers—the sound of which reverberated in the hush.

Another co-conspirator wound up with his own clothing going rigid and rendering him immobile, and another sunk abruptly into the ground like it was quicksand, and then it solidified around him, trapping him up to the shoulders with his head and forearms above the surface.

Six co-conspirators so far, each of them outer disciples, their ribbons plain.

After that one, Su Minshan paled and began making more unsavory comments, impugning the honor of Wei Ying, but also Wangji. This blurred the lines on which of them he truly took issue with—and Wangji hated the idea that Wei Ying could have been targeted to hurt him.

A period passed without any outside attempts to sabotage the duel. Su Minshan’s moves became more desperate, and finally he reached into his sleeve and threw a talisman at Wei Ying, a dirty move that made Wangji himself shout in wordless outrage, but Wei Ying simply bisected the talisman neatly with a slash of qi that sent Su Minshan tumbling.

Su Minshan lost hold of his sword and crawled toward it as though to continue the battle, but Wei Ying advanced and simply poked a spot on the back of his neck with his sheath, and his opponent’s body went limp, though he yelled accusations of cheating, slanderous lies, and obscenities until Shufu again Silenced him.

“Wen Qing taught the Lan healers how to immobilize me, since movement could worsen my wounds,” Wei Ying said to address the accusation, his voice hollow in the way it got when he was remembering unpleasant things. “I remembered.”

He shoved his sheath into his belt and picked up the pieces of the talisman, holding them up for all to see that it was meant to immobilize him, the sort of thing used to immobilize yao on night hunts.

“I only succeeded where you failed,” he said.

Wei Ying grabbed Su Minshan by the hair, carefully avoiding touching his ribbon, and placed the flat of of Suibian against the nape of his neck, ignoring his muffled protests and looking to Lan Xichen.

“Zongzhu, permission to begin kun xing?”

Xiongzhang looked frozen for a moment, clearly startled by how the match ended, but then he nodded minutely.

Wangji wanted to stop him, wanted to disabuse Wei Ying of his misplaced notion that this punishment had to be started by his hand, knowing it could haunt him, but he could only stand in silent support.

In one clean slice, Wei Ying’s blade sheared Su Minshan’s hair, some of it nearly shaved to his scalp, while wisps of longer strands fell around his ears. The rest would need to be shaved, but it was a start.

Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd as Wei Ying let him drop to the grass like a rag doll. He let the thick locks of hair and guan fall from his hand to land next to his tormentor, where he could see the remains of his honor.

Then Wei Ying traversed the field, stopping at each co-conspirator and applying Wen Qing’s immobilizing spell to each. He asked Xiongzhang for permission each time, and each time left the former disciple with the shorn hair. Then he sheathed Suibian and returned to the porch of the mingshi.

He was shaking minutely, so subtly no one would notice if they weren’t close to him, and Jiang Yanli drew him close and fussed over him, clearly making sure he was truly uninjured. Jiang Wanyin went to his other side and subtly let him lean on him.

“I don’t think you got any blood on your new robes,” she finally said, tweaking his nose. “My Xianxian is so talented!”

“Thanks, Jiejie,” he murmured, letting her dote on him, letting his brother support him.

Wangji wrapped him in his cloak, then gently took his sword hand and massaged the pads of his fingers and palm, feeling the taut, almost frozen muscles, and trying to help relax them. He longed to hold him, but had to refrain, the courtship too new to permit such an intimate act in public.

Xiongzhang stepped forward, and the crowd fell silent again.

“Bear witness to this punishment,” he told the crowd. “Any who dares attack a fellow disciple as Wei Wuxian has been attacked will face similar punishment.”

A team of disciples and servants finished the job of shaving the conspirators in front of all of GusuLan and, once Lan Tayi released them from the various talisman effects, carried them into the mingshi. When they were hauled out, all of them were wearing the unadorned green linen robes of criminals, and all of their swords and entry tokens had been confiscated. Even their boots were dyed green, something Wangji suspected had been done with a talisman. None of them wore their ribbons any longer.

Some of them looked stunned, as though they somehow had thought they would get away with their attacks on Wei Ying or perhaps hadn’t expected the severity of the punishment. Others looked angry, Su Minshan among them, glaring at Wei Ying from where he was held up between two disciples; Wei Ying didn’t spare him a glance. One disciple looked resigned, which meant perhaps there was hope he’d reform, not that Wangji cared. The one with the broken nose had been treated by a healer and had regained consciousness.

All had clearly been Silenced, some making muffled sounds of protest.

“We are not heartless,” Shufu announced. “Each of you will be given pouches with enough food to last through the borders of Gusu territory, nothing more. Beyond that, you are on your own. You are permanently cast out, never to return. If you violate your banishment, you will be further punished.”

A disciple placed a cloth with the seven culprits’ ribbons on the ground before the mingshi. Others stepped forward with the hair Wei Ying had cut, and piled it atop, handing Shufu the seven guan that had once crowned the culprits. They would be part of the recompense for Wei Ying, Wangji knew, though he hoped they would be melted down into something new.

Lan Xichen used a talisman to set the ribbons and shorn hair alight, sending the crowd reeling. One of the stunned-looking culprits burst into tears.

It was a shocking thing, to see the sacred ribbons burn, almost a sort of purification, an implication that the ribbons had been tainted by the ill intent and actions of those who had worn them. The symbolism piled up, the implication that this was an exorcism of an evil that had threatened the clan. In many ways, it was.

Wangji understood the need for these implications, but the layers of meaning exhausted him; he just wanted the culprits gone so that Wei Ying could have some peace.

Xiongzhang gestured, and a group of older inner disciples stepped forward, some from the group that had finished administering kun xing, likely chosen because they’d been ruled out as suspects. They joined those disciples flanking and carrying the immobilized criminals until there were enough for two to three per criminal. They attached small pouches to the belts of the seven criminals.

“You will be escorted to ensure you leave Gusu,” Xiongzhang says, his voice cold. “They are authorized to use force if attacked. I suggest you proceed peacefully. The immobilization spells will be lifted when you have exited the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Xichen did not specify ‘non-lethal,’ Wangji noticed.

With another gesture, the disciples carried their burdens toward the gates of the Cloud Recesses, carrying their burdens with them.

Once they were gone, Xiongzhang dismissed the assembly, bidding them to adhere to curfew, and the field quickly emptied, those gathered clearly eager to process what had just occurred. Lan Tayi bowed to them and left as well.

When only they and the healers remained, Wei Ying swayed, and Wangji and Jiang Wanyin caught him together, easing him down until he was seated on the wooden planks of the porch, in no danger of falling. Jiang Yanli made a distressed noise and dabbed at his nose, which was bleeding sluggishly. His eyes were unfocused, and he clutched at Wangji’s hand.

The head healer rushed over and checked him, examining his qi in case it had been disrupted.

“He simply needs rest,” she said after she let go of his wrist. “He would be most comfortable doing that with you, rather than the infirmary.”

Wei Ying took a deep breath, clearly making an effort to focus.

“Jingshi?” he asked, his voice small.

His voice was shaky, and Wangji wondered if he had expended all the strength he had and was seeking strength in numbers, maybe even a sense of security in the home they will share once wed.

Wangji looked to Xiongzhang, who nodded.

“I’ll have the servants bring bedding and join you shortly.”

“I can do that and handle any remaining issues tonight, Xichen,” Shufu said, stroking his beard. “See to Wei Wuxian’s comfort.”

Xiongzhang bowed to him, looking relieved and wrung out himself. It had been difficult for him to order this punishment, Wangji knew, his heart wishing to believe the best of all people. These events had likely challenged his faith in people a bit, and being around good people tonight would help.

“Wei Wuxian, you did not need to push yourself,” Shufu said gently. “Take more care, and trust us to shoulder the burden.”

Wei Ying nodded, but seemed distantly confused, whether because of his exhausted disorientation or something more troubling, Wangji didn’t know. He could feel as though he couldn’t trust others to do so, and given how his former sect had failed him, that sentiment would be understandable, if heartbreaking.

Jiang Wanyin pulled Suibian from Wei Ying’s belt and handed it to Jiang Yanli. With the help of a healing apprentice, he maneuvered Wei Ying to the edge of the porch.

Wei Ying cooperated, though he refused to let go of Wangji’s hand. When Jiang Wanyin hoisted him on his back, he simply hooked his free arm around his brother’s shoulder without protest, letting his younger brother carry him, a clear indication of how exhausted he was.

“I will play for you,” Wangji told Wei Ying, squeezing his hand. “To help you rest.”

Wei Ying’s answering smile filled him with relief.

The full impact of tonight wouldn’t be clear until morning at the earliest, but at least it hadn’t taken his smile.

—————

There are multiple styles of Chinese embroidery. It’s interesting reading.

Yunjian are ornamental embroidered collars, also known as cloud collars because they generally had cloid embroidery. Depending on the dynasty, they were worn by both men and women.

The chengyu Su She is prevented from finishing is one I used in “the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break,” ‘dogs can’t help eating shit.’ In this context he’s trying to say Wei Wuxian is low-born and no matter what he does his origins define him, but it’s poorly chosen. Basically Su She is trying to seem smarter than he is and it instead outs him as the opposite. He might also have chosen it to prey on Wei Wuxian’s fear of dogs.

Wei Wuxian keeps getting bloody noses in my fics. They can be an indication of qi disruptions, which can become deviations and cause damage, as I’m exploring in another fic. High emotion can disrupt qi (ex: wwx after the confrontation with jc at Lotus Pier).

Glossary:

Jiejie = older sister

kun xing = punishment of head shaving

li = a unit of measurement; 3.2 li is about a mile

mingshi = underworld room for summoning spirits

shufu = uncle

xiansheng = teacher

xiongzhang = elder brother (formal)

zongzhu = sect leader

In other news, I move tomorrow. I have no internet so I am posting this chapter using my phone. It’ll go up on FFN later, once I’ve moved.