#anyway the overbearing concept behind this fic was that the main stumbling block in canon

[carolyncaves]

It’s been three days since I posted a ficlet, but that’s because my hand Really slipped this time and I wrote a canon divergence ‘post-Burial Mounds Wei Wuxian actually goes to Gusu’ fic. I’ll call this Day 19: Journey, but it also includes days 17 and 18 Rest and Breath for bonus points. 3680 words, WWX, LXC, LWJ, JC. Alcohol, vague mental illness (it’s post-burial-mounds wwx), strong undercurrent of wangxian (it’s lwj), angst, tenderness, golden core reveal.

also on ao3

“You do not necessarily need to take up the sword at once,” Lan Xichen called after Wei Wuxian, perhaps too desperately, but it mercifully stopped him in his tracks. “You can come to Cloud Recesses and simply consider it further there.��

“So instead of agreeing to take up the sword, Zewu Jun would like me to agree to agree to it in time. A grand distinction.” Wei Wuxian tipped his head back and drained the rest of the jar of baijiu. When he drew it down and looked at it, the rigid arrogance etched into his profile was mixed very briefly with a desperate despondence. Lan Xichen might not have noticed it, were it not for his conversation with Wangji.

Wei Wuxian had been somewhere terrible for three months, and he was not well. Wei Wuxian needed help. Wangji was forbidden to come, so Lan Xichen had to do this in his place, and please, Xiongzhang, you must get him to agree to come to Gusu, whatever it takes.

After what he’d seen so far of Wei Wuxian’s state, Lan Xichen was not sure it would be within his power. But Wangji had placed his trust in him.

“You will not be required to do anything, if only you will come.”

“I do not recall when Zewu Jun gained the authority to require things of me.”

That hostility could bring them to failure. Lan Xichen needed to shift to his reserve approach. He thought, given the circumstances, Wangji would consent. “To speak even more plainly, it would please Wangji very much to see you. You were correct when you said so yourself. He has been anxious since the close of Sunshot, and lonely at Cloud Recesses. I am asking you for this favor, as his closest confidant, for the sake of my brother’s happiness – so I will not be easily discouraged.” Those words were all true; it had become clear Wangji’s happiness depended very much on Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian’s expression softened once again, this time toward affection. Lan Xichen gave his words time to sink in, and then followed them with a wager: “It will be an opportunity for you to rest.” Despite Wei Wuxian’s bright smile and earnest greeting when they’d met on the street, Lan Xichen had sensed underneath it that Wei Wuxian was haggard and worn.

Wei Wuxian finally turned and looked at him again, and his agitation had fully melted back away. Lan Xichen felt the gentle lift of hope.

“I’m a member of the Jiang sect, aren’t I?” Wei Wuxian asked. “My brother has been named Sect Leader, and needs me now more than ever in his life. How can I go to Gusu with you?”

“Please allow me to ask him,” Lan Xichen said immediately. “On my own behalf, please give me your leave to request of him that you come visit us.” He did not mention, and only barely allowed himself to think, that if Wei Wuxian was here in town drinking baijiu in the middle of the day, he was probably not giving his brother the support he needed regardless.

Wei Wuxian stared at the floor for a very long time. He gave a hollow laugh. “All right. If Jiang Cheng gives you his blessing, I’ll go to Gusu with you.”

Lan Xichen had swayed one immovable stone, only to find another in its shadow.

/

Jiang Cheng received him almost immediately in Lotus Pier’s Sword Hall. He sat on the carved lotus seat, looking every inch a Sect Leader despite his youthful face. Wei Wuxian stood slightly to one side, looking carefully at the opposite wall instead of either of them.

“Take Wei Wuxian to Cloud Recesses?” Jiang Cheng kept his voice even and respectful, for now, but his features clearly displayed his incredulous irritation. “And you want to go, I suppose,” he added, much more acidly, to Wei Wuxian. “You’d like to run off and see Hanguang Jun, nevermind Yunmeng Jiang.”

“Zewu Jun has asked it of me,” Wei Wuxian said lowly. “Should I just refuse him out of hand?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Lan Xichen could almost hear his rejoinder – So you make me do it instead? “Have you been drinking? I needed you today. Look at you.”

“Sect Leader Jiang, I am asking this of you as a personal favor,” Zewu Jun said, hoping to coerce Jiang Cheng into discussing it with him instead. “I’m hopeful spending a measure of time together at Cloud Recesses will be beneficial for both my brother and yours.”

“Hanguang Jun is more than welcome to come to Yunmeng,” Jiang Cheng countered.

“Currently Wangji has sect matters he is required to attend to,” Zewu Jun answered, before immediately wincing.

“And Wei Wuxian doesn’t?” Jiang Cheng snapped. He looked incensed with a fire more furious than this one conversation would ignite, implying Wei Wuxian’s truancy today was not an isolated incident; this request was precisely the fuel to grow a smolder into a blaze. “Not that he’s been doing them. Are you planning to stand by my side and help me at any point, Wei Wuxian? Have you no sense of responsibility?”

Lan Xichen saw those words hit Wei Wuxian like a blow, but he was surprised when Jiang Cheng flinched as well. Perhaps he had not intended the second meaning – the implication of blame, as well as duty.

Jiang Cheng took a breath to recover, and apparently that gave him the time he needed to reconsider.

“Forget the thing I just said. You should go with him.”

Wei Wuxian looked right at him, then, for the first time in that conversation, and his face was masked with slow confusion and hurt. “Jiang Cheng …”

“Don’t argue with me! Go cheer up Lan Wangji and yourself, and come back. You’ve been impossible and stubborn since you got back from wherever on earth you were, and I need you to get your head back on straight.” Wei Wuxian’s face had gone blank again during that tirade. Jiang Cheng snorted in exasperation and added, “Don’t forget to take your sword with you, and see if you can come back riding it.”

Wei Wuxian stiffened, and Lan Xichen was briefly terrified the situation would collapse mere inches from success. He stepped forward, clamped a hand down hard on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, and said, “We will bring the sword with us.” He hoped Wei Wuxian would remember the assurances Lan Xichen had given him, so he wouldn’t have to repeat them in front of Jiang Cheng. “Where is it, Wei-gongzi?”

/

Lan Xichen escorted Wei Wuxian to collect the sword and some personal effects from his room – thankfully, Jiang Cheng remained behind. Suibian was tucked behind a chest of drawers, where Wei Wuxian would not see it as he went about his daily life. Wei Wuxian retrieved it and stared at it like it was alien in his own hand, in contrast to the dark flute he held as at his side as an extension of himself in the other.

He thrust his arm toward Lan Xichen.

This disturbed Lan Xichen, the way Wei Wuxian seemed actively averse to the sword’s presence, but he said nothing; he was on the verge of achieving his mission. All this could be discussed in the fullness of time once Wei Wuxian was safely at Cloud Recesses. He took Suibian in his own hand, for the time being. He would bear this person and his sword to Wangji.

Wei Wuxian was slow and lethargic in his movements, some combination of mood and intoxication. It took all of Lan Xichen’s discipline not to rush him. It felt as if every moment that elapsed could bring some unforeseen stimulus that would knock Wei Wuxian off this vital and fragile course. Eventually he was ready, and as soon as they had sky over their heads, Lan Xichen took him on Shuoyue and maneuvered them into the air.

Lan Xichen relaxed, since they were now underway, which seemed a significant milestone in making this more difficult to stop. Wei Wuxian clung to him in strange desperation with the arm that wasn’t holding Chenqing. He stared down and around and out, face wide and wild as they climbed into the dusky sky, and as the minutes passed he began to shake. Did he feel unsafe relying on someone else to maneuver the sword? Had something happened that had instilled in him a fear of heights?

“Hide your eyes, if you would be more at ease,” Lan Xichen told him. “I assure you, Wei-gongzi, I will deliver you safely.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened ever so slightly in Lan Xichen’s robes, like he was hesitating, fighting a silent battle. Finally, his head collapsed onto Lan Xichen’s shoulder, his face angled into the side of his neck. Otherwise he said nothing, and did nothing. It was so far distant from the buoyant young man who had come to Gusu for lectures and even the sharp, bright, terrible one he’d seen glimpses of during Sunshot. Wangji had been correct. Wei Wuxian was deeply not well. Lan Xichen had been moderately convinced by the end of their conversation at the inn; now he was beyond certain.

The flight was long, but at the end of it, the patch of garden in front of Wangji’s jingshi came up to meet them, and Lan Xichen set them safely down. Wei Wuxian had made the journey.

///

Lan Wangji heard a sound he quickly placed as Xichen maneuvering Shuoyue, and he was out the door of the jingshi as quickly as he could physically manage it. First, because Xichen would not maneuver the sword within Cloud Recesses if he were not on some urgent mission, and second, because Lan Wangji would not have been able to hear him if he were alone and unburdened.

Sure enough, he was met with the sight of Xichen ushering a rigid Wei Ying from the steel onto the grass. A relief so intense it threatened to send him to his knees expanded through Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” he said reflexively, closing the space between them.

Wei Ying turned to him with glazed, hazy eyes.

“He may still be intoxicated,” Xichen said, “and he has been harrowed by the flight.”

Lan Wangji stopped just before he touched Wei Ying, remembering him step away from him at Yiling Supervisory Office, turn away at the cliffs at Nightless City. This time, Wei Ying let him slowly move in and take him by one wrist. It was hope, and forgiveness, and a plea.

“Let’s get him inside,” Xichen said, which meant Lan Wangji had to release him. He followed as Xichen escorted Wei Ying up the walk. By the time they reached the open doorway, Wei Ying had recovered some of his senses, and he pulled himself out of Xichen’s hold.

“You don’t have to … you didn’t have to,” Wei Ying said coldly. “I shouldn’t be here. I should go back.”

Lan Wangji’s stomach sank, but Xichen just said, “Wei-gongzi, surely you aren’t suggesting I fly you back to Lotus Pier by sword this very moment.”

Wei Ying flinched, even as he scowled at himself for it.

“You must at least take dinner with us, and stay the night,” Xichen continued. “We can discuss it further in the morning if you like. You’re no prisoner here, just a welcome guest.” Xichen extended his arm, gesturing for Wei Ying to continue into the jingshi.

At length, he did.

Wei Ying stopped in the center of the room, standing aimlessly as Xichen and Lan Wangji came in around him. “I’ll go have someone prepare us a meal,” Xichen said. He held out Suibian, which for the first time Lan Wangji noticed he was carrying.

Wei Ying stared at him. He made no move to take it.

Xichen smiled sadly and went to set the sword at one of the places at the table.

Lan Wangji said stepped forward and took Suibian from his hand. “Xiongzhang,” he said, bowing formally with Wei Ying’s sword clasped in his hands, “thank you for bringing Wei Ying here. Now I will speak with him.”

Xichen briefly looked taken aback. Then his gaze floated from Lan Wangji to Wei Ying before returning. “I told Wei-gongzi we would not force him to take up his sword if he came here. That we would not require anything of him if he was unwilling.”

Lan Wangji imagined how the conversation must have gone, for Xichen to make that assurance. “Thank you,” he said again, and he hoped Xichen understood him.

Xichen nodded. “I will have the meal sent over for you.” Xichen acknowledged Wei Ying and left, surrendering Wei Ying into Lan Wangji’s custody.

Wei Ying was here. He had come to Gusu, however tensely. Lan Wangji was not helpless any longer. He could do something. He looked at the sword in his hand. Wei Ying’s wild Suibian. “I will play Clarity for you until the dinner comes,” he said.

“Lan Zhan, you can’t help me.”

“You said you would allow me,” Lan Wangji pushed back, pacing around Wei Ying to face him. “You came here.”

“No, Lan Zhan. You can’t help me.” Wei Ying looked up at him, expression gaunt. He was still thin, from wherever he’d been when he was away. If he was intoxicated, it was the morose kind. “You can play Clarity for me until your fingers bleed. I still won’t take up the sword again.”

“Why not?” Lan Wangji bit out, clenching Suibian in his grip. “What happened, Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying’s gaze was heavy on the sword in Lan Wangji’s hand. He thought for a great, long silence. “You have to believe me this time,” he said, swaying a little on his feet. “If I tell you, you have to believe me.”

Lan Wangji had not believed him when he spun a tall tale about a book and a cave with a dark, haughty grin. He had been afraid to believe him when he mentioned the Burial Mounds with a smile. Now, with Wei Ying standing empty in the jingshi, a silent tear rolling down his face, having relented and left his home so Lan Wangji could help him, Lan Wangji was prepared to believe anything he had to say. Lan Wangji nodded.

“It’s a secret,” Wei Ying pressed instantly, and more tears followed the first. “You need to swear to me you’ll keep it a secret. From Zewu Jun, from your uncle, from everyone. I would die rather than have it be known. Do you understand, Lan Zhan? It’s a secret I was going to die to keep.”

That image, the one of Wei Ying dead, frightened Lan Wangji more than anything had previously in his life. A year ago, it would have seemed impossible – his overloud, overfamiliar other, taken by death. Now, it seemed possible. Now, Wei Ying was barely held together by resentful energy and thin wire.

Lan Wangji raised his head, decided. He crossed the room, to the sword stand where his own Bichen stood. He put Suibian to rest alongside it. Then he turned. Wei Ying had turned to watch him.

Lan Wangji held out his hand, palm up. “Then tell me. We will keep it together.”

Wei Ying looked at his hand like a man going to his death. He looked at it like a man who wanted to be saved. He barely took his eyes off it as he took the three steps sideways necessary to walk over and place Chenqing on the corner of the table. Then he took the three steps back – toward Lan Wangji – and Lan Wangji’s hand in his own.

He drew it toward him and pressed it against his lower abdomen.

It took Lan Wangji a second to process this strange action, and another to follow its implication. He controlled his spiritual energy, reached in to touch Wei Ying’s spiritual core.

Nothing.

Lan Wangji’s hand clenched, pulling in a handful of Wei Ying’s clothes. He could feel his own breath begin to accelerate. Wei Ying’s cultivation was a match for Lan Wangji’s own. How could Wei Ying lack a golden core?

Wei Ying had bit his lip so hard he bled. Lan Wangji raised his other hand instinctively, to wipe the blood and tears away.

“Hanguang Jun,” came a voice from outside, and the door slid open.

The junior disciple holding the tray with their dinner froze on the threshold. Fortunately, Wei Ying was facing away from the door, so the tears on his face would not be visible. Lan Wangji could not begin to imagine what his own showed.

The disciple opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Place it quickly and go,” Lan Wangji said, his voice harsh even in his own ears. The disciple leapt forward to obey, practically diving across the room and setting the tray on the table. Her sleeve brushed against Chenqing as she withdrew, sending it clattering to the floor. She winced and reached for it.

“Leave it,” Lan Wangji commanded. The disciple gave the quickest bow he had ever seen and fled the jingshi, banging the door closed behind her.

Wei Ying gave a wet laugh. Lan Wangji’s hand was still on his face. “Lan Zhan, that disciple surely thought you were in the middle of ravishing me. By morning, every junior in the Lan sect will be talking about Hanguang Jun and his secret lover.”

Lan Wangji drew Wei Ying into the circle of his arms and crushed him to his chest.

“Wei Ying,” he said into the side of his head. He clutched at him, dug one hand into his hair. “Wei Ying.”

“It’s all right, Lan Zhan, really,” Wei Ying said, voice hollow. “It’s not so terribly bad. I’m practically used to it at this point. But you see why I can’t take up the sword anymore.” Wei Ying was still babbling. “Do you see, Lan Zhan?”

“Enough talking,” Lan Wangji said. His mind was beginning to seek causes and effects. “Wen Zhuliu?”

“I thought you said enough talking,” Wei Ying deflected.

The Wen soldiers had said things that hadn’t made sense to Lan Wangji. They’d said the heir to the Jiang sect had been burned down into a mediocre person. The pieces rearranged themselves, and Lan Wangji spat, “Jiang Cheng. Wen Zhuliu, and Jiang Cheng.”

“Enough talking,” Wei Ying whispered, but his hands finally came up and wrapped around him. He finally took hold of Lan Wangji. And he began to cry. It was quiet. Listless. Unlike everything Wei Ying was.

Lan Wangji held him until he stopped.

He didn’t realize tears were on his own face until they dampened Wei Ying’s shoulder and he felt the coolness.

When eventually they pulled back, Wei Ying was barely on his feet. Lan Wangji walked him over to the table. He food had gone cold, but he needed to eat. Wei Ying picked up Chenqing and placed it back on the corner of the table with a shaking hand. Lan Wangji sat beside him instead of across from him, an arm still wrapped around his waist. He did not know when he would be willing to let go of Wei Ying again.

When Wei Ying finished eating, he realized he would have to.

“I will play Clarity for you,” Lan Wangji said, though it came out more stifled than he intended.

Wei Ying shook his head ruefully. “I’ve taken you too off-guard, Lan Zhan. I’m sure you could if my life depended on it, but you don’t need to play it tonight.”

Perhaps that was best. Lan Wangji did not feel even remotely clear himself. He shifted so he could draw Wei Ying back against him, back pressed against Lan Wangji’s chest. As if it were possible to hold him close enough to make this all right.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I didn’t know you were going to be quite so possessive of my spiritual power,” Wei Ying said – joking even now, joking already. He tipped his head back on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, showing his exhaustion. “Ah, well, now you know the truth. You can send me back to Lotus Pier tomorrow with a clear conscience.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. Slowly, several times. How could Wei Ying say such false things, even in jest? Lang Wangji cupped a hand under his chin, angling his face up slightly.

Wei Ying stared up at him. “Lan Zhan …”

Lan Wangji leaned down and kissed him.

It was brief and light. Lan Wangji could taste the whisper of baijiu on his breath. Then it was over.

Wei Ying stared up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips hanging ever so slightly agape.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. “You said you would allow me to help you.”

“Oh,” he said, as if he were truly surprised. His chin drifted back down, and he stared across the jingshi unseeing in thought. Then he took one of Lan Wangji’s hands in both of his own and raised the back of it to his lips. “Thank you, Lan Zhan.”

It was barely seven thirty, long before even the Lan sect’s curfew, but soon Wei Ying was starting to drowse in his arms. Lan Wangji wanted to continue to hold him, but he had been exhausted even when he stepped off Shuoyue. He needed to rest.

Lan Wangji might have carried him to the bed, but he woke and was already pulling himself up before Lan Wangji could arrange it. Instead, he walked at his side, supporting him.

Wei Ying slept the sleep of the bone-weary. Lan Wangji sat beside him and watched. This was worse than anything he’d imagined. But now he understood, and he could stop wasting energy on the false problem and help Wei Ying with the true one.

Wei Ying had dark circles under his eyes and alcohol in his blood and no golden core, but he was safe in Lan Wangji’s bed at Cloud Recesses. As long as that was true, hope was not gone.

part two