#but it turned out to be a long text about xxc's abandonment issues

[i-love-xiao-xingchen]

Xiao Xingchen's abandonment issues

Yesterday I was thinking about the fact that Xiao Xingchen was roaming the world with A-Qing until they found Xue Yang. I hadn't thought about this before, but almost since they arrived in Yi City XXC was naturally like "well, guess this is home now" (the fact that he got some stuff to fix the roof for A-Qing and then his answer "he [Xue Yang] will leave when he recovers, who would want to live here with us" suggests he intended to stay in Yi City even after the "stranger" was gone).

And it made me think about XXC's need (probably unnoticed even by himself) of settling down with, let's say, a pack of his own? (XD) I mean, since he left the mountain his only friend (and figuratively his only home) was Song Lan. They roamed the world together and they had a common goal, but even then they were sometimes away from each other (remember the scene in CQL when XXC is fighting XY and SL appears to help, he [SL] said he happened to be night-hunting nearby so he and XXC weren't together by then). Nonetheless, XXC knew he could always find Song Lan (he was a "home" to come back let's say) and eventually they were roaming the world side by side, so it was something to hang on. He didn't have the family he left behind but he had a friend (and probably soulmate) instead as well as his purpose of saving the world.

Later everything changes terribly. XXC not only loses his sight, but also his best friend (and beloved) blames him for the death of his people and tells him to go away and never meet again. He believes SL's words, that he actually doesn't want to be his friend anymore, and as as XXC loves and respects him he leaves. He's on his own again, like the first time, only this time he's also blind and heartbroken. He feels guilty for SL's tragedy and grieves his friend's loss and his own (losing SL).

He keeps roaming the world, helping people same as before, but it's more out of habit than anything. He had a purpose that drove him out of the mountain and into the world, he still has (or wants to believes he does) but it's not as strong as before. He feels raw and grieving, there's an inherent sadness to him (that's what I thought when I saw him again in the CQL after A-Qing bumped into him), an additional shadow of white (mourning) to his figure. He doesn't look as bright as before.

Due to his fame, probably the world have always thought of XXC as unreachable. Now his new layer of sadness gives an stoic and almost legendary point to his looks, making him seem more "out of this world". Despite his blindness, he still bears Shuanghua as if he hadn't lost his sight at all. He must look more unreachable than ever. Besides, he never was that good at making friends in the cultivation world (his only friend was SL actually) and he did not belong to any sect.

Then there's the fact that somehow XXC accepts solitude as a "punishment" (although he probably doesn't acknowledge it). It seems to me that he feels he doesn't deserve friends or he's afraid of hurting them or driving them away (apart from the fact that most people find him unreachable). He doesn't try to forge new relationships as the grief he feels after losing SL is still too raw. He can't bear losing a loved one again like that. He even doubts someone would want to be with him.

Just remember when he met A-Qing. When she asked if she could keep him company XXC naturally thought she wanted to become a cultivator, not that she actually liked XXC because he was obviously good-natured and caring so she felt safe with him. And then when she told her the reason why she wanted to follow him and asked again if she could, he did not said yes, but he didn't say no either. He just started to walk away BUT lingering a bit, like he wanted to know if she would actually follow him, probably a part of him wanting (very much) that she would. Because why would she (or anyone) walk with him again? After all, he thought (or tried to convince himself) that she was intelligent enough to take care of herself, she didn't need his help to survive so why would she want to be with him? But then A-Qing follows him and after a while he accepts she's there to stay and automatically considers her his family. He's naturally protective towards her ("you sprained your foot, do you need me to carry you?"). They arrive in Yi City and he refers to "us" (A-Qing and XXC). But then he assumes no one (the stranger they found) would want to live with them (not just because Yi City looks like a depressing place to live but because of his deeply rooted believing that he does not deserve friendship or even company).

As soon as they arrive in Yi City he assumes A-Qing and him are staying there. No more roaming the world, that's not really important now, although he keeps going on night-hunting frequently. In the mountain he had a home and a family. After coming down he had a purpose and a friend who was also an anchor, similar to what home and family meant to him. When he lost that, it was difficult to live only on purpose. As I said, he kept roaming the world out of habit, because he hadn't known any other way. But meeting A-Qing and arriving in Yi City to nurse a "stranger" back to health was an opportunity to meet and fulfill his longing for home and family. He still could be faithful to his purpose by night-hunting and doing good deeds. He could have both purpose and a place to come back to, where people he loved would be waiting for him. He had a new anchor for him to keep going.

Furthermore, the "stranger" chooses to stay. XXC didn't ask for his name or background in the first place because he thought the man would eventually leave. But he doesn't. And XXC doesn't ask now. Why? Perhaps out of habit, perhaps because he actually doesn't want to know, or doesn't want to be conditioned by a name or probably because he feels he has not the right to ask (as he believes he has not the right to ask for gratefulness, kindness, company, friendship). He gives but does not expect something in return because he believes he is not deserving of that (even if he doesn't acknowledge it right back).

He doesn't want to force anyone to be with him. But the stranger stays. He goes night-hunting with XXC as he is a cultivator too, helps them with the chores, makes him laugh his guts out. He tells him what the sky or the mountains look like when the sun sets over them and how the surrounding fields change their colors over the seasons. The stranger becomes family too. And XXC doesn't question any of it. He is content with this life, even if it is a lie, it doesn't matter, he probably never thought about it, he didn't bother to. After a while he accepts the stranger is staying (as he did with A-Qing) and he is somewhat relieved. He doesn't bother to imagine the day this domestic bliss will end.

And eventually SL finds him.

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Days 24-30: Chapter 5, Picnic (Day 27)

(I posted this as an AO3 link only a couple days ago but my text post issues seem to have resolved themselves, so here it is! I removed the original link post)

Part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series:

XXC Prequel | SL Prequel | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Also available on AO3: link

4,827 words

Chapter 5: Now on their farmhouse vacation, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen seek out Wen Ning’s help and expertise. 

Note: this chapter depicts something resembling therapy, but as I am not in any way a trained mental health professional, any similarities are to be taken with the assumption that I am taking artistic liberties.

Three squeezes, and Song Lan pulled Xingchen’s hand towards the soil to show…

“Zichen! They’re sprouting!” Xingchen gushed.

Song Lan smiled, but he was watching not the growing stems but the growing smile on Xingchen’s face. Song Lan loosened his grip, letting Xingchen’s hand move freely, but left his hand resting on the other’s as his partner’s fingers gently brushed the tips of the new leaves.

That smile. Soft. Unthinking. Simple.

How had Song Lan thought that the smiles of the past few weeks had been anything to match this one? Those had been purposeful, forced. Only a shadow, not a reflection, of true joy. Though of course, he reasoned, even the faintest light after years of darkness could seem overwhelming.

He shook his head, letting himself melt back into the moment, back into the smile. It didn’t matter. Here, now, at Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun’s farm, Xiao Xingchen was happy. And what else mattered, truly?

“Zichen?” the gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts, perhaps concerned at his stillness, “How are you feeling?”

Good. Love.  Song Lan played the chords on the guqin, a now near permanent feature wherever the two sat together. At peace. Relaxed. In love. All things he wanted to say, but not yet part of his nascent vocabulary. But the smile, that lovely smile, grew nonetheless. Because Xiao Xingchen knew. He knew what Song Lan could say and what he couldn’t. He knew that “Good” and “Love” meant so much more than what those two words alone implied.

Xingchen flipped his hand over, his palm now meeting Song Lan’s, and let their fingers intertwine. Xingchen’s grip was soft, strong. Just like he himself was. Xingchen leaned over and offered a kiss. Small and light, on the cheek, as kisses always were when they were outside, and around…

“Get a room!” a voice came with a laugh.

Song Lan looked up, hoping the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t too visible. Four figures had just come up into view from the direction of the orchard. Jin Ling, arms crossed but with the twitch of a smile threatening his lips. Lan Sizhui, smiling softly, apologetically. Ouyang Zizhen, eyes shining and hands covering his mouth as though he might burst if he didn’t physically hold his excitement in. And of course the laughing, jovial source of the laugh, Lan Jingyi.

Xingchen started at the sound, head swiveling towards the four, and Song Lan couldn’t help but appreciate the blush now painting those cheeks, “Ah, Lan-gongzi. I’m sorry. Zichen and I were just…”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Jingyi waved a hand dismissively, chuckling, “Sizhui and I have to live full time in the general vicinity of Hanguang-Jun and Wei-gongzi so trust me, that was nothing to-”

“Jingyi!” Sizhui interjected, scandalized, quieting him but still earning a snicker in response from both Jingyi and Zizhen.

“Dinner’s ready.” Jin Ling said stiffly, chin held high but his eyes twitched and he bit his lip as though trying not to laugh himself.

“It smells sooo good.” Zizhen sighed dreamily. Song Lan couldn’t help but smile at Jin Ling’s bashful sideways glance in response. Since arriving at the farm a couple days ago, Wen Qionglin and Jin Ling had cooked every meal. Each one was more delicious, more fragrant than the last (though that hadn’t stopped Wei Wuxian from complaining to Jin Ling that none were as spicy as he would like, no matter how appreciative of the meal he was once his nephew was out of earshot).

There was a sudden shuddering against his shoulder. Song Lan turned in alarm. But Xingchen was only laughing, hiding his grin behind a fist as though that could possibly be preferable to seeing a laugh light up his face.

The sun was warm. Friends waited. Crops grew.

Xingchen took the arm that Song Lan offered, more out of habit for both of them than necessity. Xingchen grew stronger by the day, and had in fact delightedly lifted and twirled Song Lan earlier that day, cheerfully informing him that he was feeling particularly good after his morning stretches.

They were happy. They were strong. There was dinner waiting. And they were going to talk to Wen Qionglin.

--

The farm was far from the humble farmhouse Song Lan had expected when Wei Wuxian and Xingchen had first mentioned the idea to him. It was much closer to the large residences their hosts were accustomed to. Bridges crossed the small river, which help budding lotus plants. The various paths and bridges led back and forth to the farm’s rooms and residences. A small bamboo grove was visible just past the central area where the kitchens were. It wasn’t Lotus Pier or Cloud Recesses, and Song Lan was sure that to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji it seemed modest, but there was never any concern for space even with this extended group of visitors.

Despite the availability of a dining hall, they took their dinner outside as usual. The Juniors had wanted to come the moment they heard there was a chance for not only more farm time, but also more time with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. Jin Ling had even gone all the way back to Koi Tower and joined them at the farm bearing armloads of paperwork so that he could take an extended leave from his sect. After the first dinner with the Juniors, Xingchen had had to assure Song Lan that he was definitely ok eating as a group, that he liked being around everyone. It had still taken many dinners before Song Lan had believed that Xingchen was saying this truthfully and not just trying to be a good guest. Even then, Song Lan couldn’t help but smile appreciatively at the glares from Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun (the latter’s being far more effective) whenever the Juniors started to get too rowdy.

Today, instead of seeking out their usual spot, seated on a blanket laid out in the grass under a young pear tree, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen approached the kitchens. Song Lan knocked lightly on the doorframe. Rapid footsteps approached and Jin Ling appeared in front of them, carrying a covered bowl.

The young Clan Leader’s eyes widened, “S-Song-daozhang! Xiao-daozhang!” he stammered, “Sorry this took so long, Wen-xiong and I tasted it and realized at the last minute that we needed a bit more ginger and…”

Xingchen held up a hand, kindly as always, “Jin Ling, don’t worry. Dinner smells delicious as always. Zichen and I both trust and look forward to your and Wen-gongzi’s culinary expertise. We are happy to wait for any finishing touches.” Jin Ling beamed, and Song Lan wished Xingchen could see the effect his words had on the boy. Xingchen continued, “Zichen and I only wanted to ask Wen-gongzi if he could help us with something?”

“Oh! Uh…” Jin Ling glanced down at the bowl in his hands, then back towards the door to the kitchen proper, then back towards the two cultivators in front of him, “Uh… yes! I’ll go get him right away.”

Song Lan, able to see the dilemma Xingchen could not, reached out for the bowl. Jin Ling handed it to him, smiling gratefully, before rushing back to the kitchen. It seemed that Xingchen had heard the clatter of the lid as the bowl was passed, as his mouth made an adorable little “o” shape before returning to its gentle smile, “Thank you, Zichen.” He said quietly. Song Lan intentionally brushed up against Xingchen’s shoulder as he turned to deliver the food, letting Xingchen know he was going.

By the time Song Lan returned, Jin Ling was already passing him by with a second bowl, and thanked him again as he passed. As Song Lan approached the kitchen, he could only see Xingchen’s back, a bit odd-looking to Song Lan without Shuanghua draped across it, but Song Lan was well used to its familiar weight on his own back. He was happy to carry it whenever Xingchen had one of those days where he wanted the sword close, but not on his person. He was sure Xingchen would get used to carrying the sword again eventually. Xingchen was speaking to Wen Qionglin, and whatever he was saying clearly held its usual charm, given the earnest nods coming from Wen Qionglin.

“You’re sure, Xiao-daozhang?” Song Lan heard once he was close enough.

“Yes. Based on what Zichen has told me, I wouldn’t trust anyone’s skills more on this matter.” Xingchen replied.

Wen Qionglin’s smile broadened, his eyes squinting in appreciation, “Thank you, Xiao-daozhang. I hope you will both find it helpful.”

“Wen Ning, are you abandoning your poor old Yiling Patriarch?” Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun had appeared, the former bearing an overexaggerated pout, “Just tell me if you decide to leave me for Xiao-xiong, otherwise I won’t be able to bear it.”

Song Lan looked over just in time to catch the end of the special eyeroll Hanguang-Jun reserved for his husband’s antics.

“Wei-gongzi, I…” Wen Qionglin sighed, ready as ever to apologize. Song Lan knew Wen Qionglin well enough to know that he understood that Wei Wuxian was teasing. He was only too polite to not take Wei Wuxian at his word, just in case.

But Wei Wuxian waved him off, “I was kidding, just kidding! Besides, I know you still know a lot of my darkest secrets that not even my dear husband knows about yet, so I know you’ll stick around.” Song Lan couldn’t help but smile at the frown, the glance from Wen Qionglin, back to Wei Wuxian that this inspired in Wei Wuxian’s said husband, especially when he saw that Xingchen was biting his lips back, clearly trying to stop himself from chuckling at this display.

Wei Wuxian noticed Hanguang-Jun’s expression and sighed deeply, “Ah, Lan Zhan. You worry too much. It’s nothing important. And nothing I wouldn’t tell you if you asked nicely enough,” Wei Wuxian finished slyly.

Hanguang-Jun demonstrated his eyeroll for a second time, “Wei Ying is sorry for interrupting,” he said, before grabbing his husband by the arm and pulling him towards their spot by the river.

Song Lan joined his own partner, who had turned back to Wen Qionglin. Song Lan put a gentle hand on Xingchen’s shoulder, letting him know he was there, never tired of the flutter of a smile that this brought to Xingchen’s face.

Song Lan signed quickly to the Wen healer, So you are willing to do it?

“Yes. I am more than willing, I am happy to do it, Song-daozhang.” Wen Qionglin answered. Song Lan was grateful for the deliberately complete answer, keeping Xingchen more naturally in the loop of the conversation.

Xingchen smiled, “Thank you, Wen-gongzi. Come sit with us, we can sort out the details there.”

The evening passed pleasantly, Xingchen’s laugh rang out more than once. Wen Qionglin interpreted for Song Lan. Song Lan felt warmer, more at peace than he had felt in a long time. Something about the fresh air, the budding life surrounding them day in and day out had brought back a lightness to Xingchen that the Song Lan of twenty years ago thought he would never meet again, that four years ago he thought would never live again, that two months ago he thought could never be again. Song Lan sighed happily, sweeping his gaze over the group of laughing, happy people. A word came to mind, another thing he thought he had lost for good, long ago. Family.

Song Lan and Xingchen said their good nights after dinner, retreating back to their room. The moonlight peaked through the curtains, washing one side of Xingchen’s face with a glow Song Lan couldn’t help but reach for, brush with the back of his hand. Xingchen leaned into the touch, humming contentedly.

They settled into bed, Song Lan closing his eyes but keeping the image of Xingchen’s bright, laughing face in mind even as he began to doze.

“Zichen?” a soft whisper came from next to him. Without opening his eyes, he reached over and combed his fingers through Xingchen’s hair, letting him know he was listening, a small sigh, “I’m glad we’re going to speak with Wen-gongzi. He seems… he seems like he might be just the person to help.”

And if Song Lan had somehow forgotten, if the pleasant evening had somehow drawn out of his mind, exactly why he and Xingchen had approached Wen Qionglin earlier, how there could be anything wrong, any problem that Wen Qionglin’s specialzed techniqus could address, anything more to wish for than to be here, with his Xingchen in his arms? Then the sobbing scream in the middle of the night, the quiet shaking sobs which followed in a belated attempt to keep Song Lan from waking, the hours of patting small circles into Xingchen’s back until the shaking stopped, and exhaustion lulled him back into a still fitful sleep? Xingchen would claim he didn’t remember his dream. He never did. But Song Lan would. As much as Wen Qionglin could help Song Lan speak, he hoped he could also help Xingchen talk.

--

They met in Wen Qionglin’s rooms. Song Lan had visited his friend in many temporary offices over the past couple of years, always set up just as carefully and neatly whether it was an inn more used to housing locals sleeping off hangovers than traveling cultivators, or the extravagant rooms he was provided when visiting Cloud Recesses. Scrolls piled up neatly on the table, medicines brewing merrily in the corner. Song Lan understood the feeling of picking up loose threads. Shuanghua’s weight still pressed against his back. He recognized the drive to make something meaningful out of unfinished work left behind. He clutched Xingchen’s hand harder, selfishly grateful that his loved one was back by his side, while Wen Qing’s presence was only felt in the décor which mimicked what Song Lan remembered of the Yiling Supervisory Office.

“Zichen, it’s ok. Don’t be nervous.” Xingchen said quietly, lacking any context to understand what had affected his partner. Song Lan could only squeeze Xingchen’s fingers in reply, thanking him for the reassurance even if misplaced.

They sat at the table across from Wen Qionglin, each with a cup of tea set before them.

“Should we begin?” Wen Qionglin asked, breaking the silence, which had probably only felt tense to Song Lan, given the earnest and gentle smiles on Wen-gongzi’s and Xingchen’s faces respectively. Song Lan squeezed Xingchen’s hand twice for yes and nodded to Wen Qionglin, as Xingchen agreed aloud.

“Mmm. Ok. Song-daozhang, I know you have already heard all this, but I want to explain how this will work to Xiao-daozhang, and either of you can ask any questions, ok?” They each offered their agreement again, “Good. Ok, so as I’m sure you both know, my branch of the Wen clan focused on healing, and what we will be doing today, and for as many sessions as seem helpful to you, will be a sort of healing that we were not allowed to practice openly for many years, as the… as the main family prioritized physical or spiritual based injuries over mental ones.” Wen Qionglin took a breath, looking towards the scrolls on his table regretfully, “Since I… since I have been able to, I’ve been trying to relearn a lot of these techniques. They are not perfect but… well, they seem to help people.” Wen Qionglin finished, looking up to meet Song Lan’s eyes. Song Lan nodded encouragingly. Wen Qionglin smiled weakly, “Well, as I know he’s told you, Xiao-daozhang, Song-daozhang was one of my first patients under these techniques and… and I’m glad he’s pleased enough with them to think they might help you both now as well.”

Xingchen, who had been nodding eagerly throughout Wen Qionglin’s explanation, spoke, “. I thank you for everything you’ve done for Zichen over the years. And we thank you for agreeing to meet with us. I look forward to getting started.”

Wen Qionglin smiled back, but it was a faltering one, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Xiao-daozhang, but I do have to warn you, these techniques, they’re not always easy. In this space, you have to think of me as your doctor, not your friend. These techniques work best when these sessions are the only relationship I have with the patients, but given the circumstances, it’s me or it’s no one.” Wen Qionglin’s smile held a touch of sadness, “I will be asking things of you that you might not want to answer or do. You can always say no, and I won’t stop you from leaving, but know I’m always coming from a place of trying to help. You can trust me or not, either is ok, but the techniques work best when you do trust, so please let me know if there is anything stopping you, and I will do my best.” Wen Qionglin offered a small bow at this, at which Song Lan responded with the same, tapping the space between Xingchen’s shoulder blades gently to signal that it was a moment for him to do the same.

“I understand, Wen-gongzi, and appreciate the warning.” Xingchen answered from his bow, “I am ready to get started, so long as Zichen is ready as well?”

Zichen had no concerns beyond the ones they were there to address, and so they began.

--

Wen Qionglin was good at what he did. Song Lan had long accepted that no one could resist opening up to Wen-gongzi’s earnest face, his patient silences, his gentle pressing when his patient needed to reconsider or reframe their questions or thoughts.

The sessions had been going well, Song Lan thought. Xingchen was naturally a trusting person himself, and it wasn’t long before Song Lan thought Wen Qionglin was mostly up to date with what Xingchen was struggling with. His struggles to readapt to loud spaces, coping with a body that was only slowly getting back to being as responsive as he remembered, sleep disruptions from nightmares, and so on.

Through a combination of these sessions and the general peaceful atmosphere of the farm, Xingchen seemed to get ever closer to his ordinary self. He had more good days than bad, now eager and able to help with even the most physically taxing of farm chores. He rarely if ever had to leave a situation due to overstimulation, a milestone which Wen Qionglin celebrated with them when Song Lan brought it up. They had fallen into a routine - a comfortable routine. The Juniors had left for the lectures at Cloud Recesses. Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian now spent less time at the farm, attending to various duties elsewhere but returning regularly for their guqin lessons. Either they or Wen Qionglin were always at the farm, sometimes all three at once, and so there was never a moment when Song Lan and Xingchen were completely lacking an interpreter. One was needed less and less frequently now, though, only truly being needed when Song Lan was particularly eager to share one of his new poems with Xingchen. He did not yet have quite the literary vocabulary he would need on the guqin to share his writing otherwise. Song Lan knew Xingchen still had nightmares, but they didn’t seem to interrupt his sleep too much any more, and since Xingchen told him he never remembered the dreams, there didn’t seem to be too much harm. Song Lan was content, proud of his partner for overcoming so much, for coming back to him.

Song Lan sometimes wondered if Wen Qionglin’s weekly sessions were even still necessary. Time passed strangely on the farm. An evening could last forever, but the weeks flew by: it always seemed that it was time for another session. Maybe the sessions could be reduced to monthly, like Song Lan’s had been after his first year? He suggested this to Xingchen, who smiled and said he would bring it up with Wen Qionglin.

And so, Song Lan settled into place, relaxing as Xingchen opened their next session saying, “I feel like things are going well, and Zichen and I thank you for all you have done, Wen-gongzi.” Song Lan passively observed Wen Qionglin’s soft nods and hums to indicate that he was listening, mostly thinking about the new guqin words he had learned that day rather than the session at hand. Xingchen went on, “Zichen and I have been talking and… well, we know it must be a lot of trouble to come all the way out here so often, and still have to travel to all your other patients.”

“Don’t worry, Xiao-daozhang. It’s no trouble.” Wen Qionglin replied pleasantly in the pause Xingchen left open.

Xingchen smiled, nodding in response, “You are kind to say so. We just… we were wondering whether given how things are going, we should reduce the sessions? Make them once a month, rather than once per week?”

Wen Qionglin leaned forward, eyebrows scrunching together, tilting his head as he rested his elbows on the table, “We can talk about rearranging the sessions if you want, but... What do you mean by ‘how things are going,’ Xiao-daozhang?”  

Song Lan raised his head, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected any push back on this. He felt Xingchen’s arm tense next to him, but he replied, “I just mean,” Zichen, now at full attention, didn’t fail to notice Xingchen’s Adam’s apple bob as he gulped, “Zichen and I, we’re… we’re doing better, I think.” Zichen wanted to help here, Xingchen never really liked talking this directly about his overall wellbeing. But Wen Qionglin had made it clear early in their sessions that if he directed a question at one of them, the other should not intervene.

Wen Qionglin remained silent, waiting. He clearly didn’t find Xingchen’s explanation satisfactory. It was painful to sit there, waiting, watching Xingchen bite his lip, looking for words to explain, to say he was ok, to tell Wen Qionglin they didn’t need as much help as they had needed at first.

“I…” Xingchen finally said, after what felt like a whole session’s worth of time, though Song Lan knew it had only been a minute or two, “I… haven’t felt as overstimulated recently?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Wen Qionglin responded, encouraging, acknowledging, but still not accepting this as a complete answer.

“I- I think… I…”

This was too much. Song Lan raised a hand, ready to sign a rather terse What more do you want? at Wen Qionglin, but had barely signed the first word before Wen Qionglin shot him a glance, still gentle, still patient, but obviously a warning. Song Lan lowered his hand, resting it onto the fist Xingchen held clenched on his thigh.

“I… feel ok?” Xingchen tried, “Most of the time?” Faint pink spots started to appear on the cloth over his eyes as he was once again met with frustrating silence. Song Lan could tell from the frown on Wen Qionglin’s face that this wasn’t what he was looking for either. Song Lan eyed the guqin lying next to him and wondered how Wen Qionglin would react if he offered Xingchen a few comforting chords, which would be incomprehensible to Wen Qionglin.

Wen Qionglin sighed, apparently convinced that whatever he was waiting for wasn’t going to come out without some prompting, “That’s good, Xiao-daozhang.” He emphasized, his praise genuine, “I can see that you have both worked very hard and have progressed a lot. I’m just worried that reducing our sessions now would be too… too soon.”

“Too soon…?” Xingchen asked, his whole body seeming to stiffen beside Song Lan, who had been unable to resist signing Why? himself.

Wen Qionglin took a deep breath, then asked bluntly, “Why does Song-daozhang still carry Shuanghua for you, Xiao-daozhang?”

Song Lan blinked, startled. He had become so used to Shuanghua over these past four years that it had become almost second nature to strap it alongside Fuxue to his back, as he had done since Hanguang-Jun first placed it in his hands, as he had done without Xingchen asking any time Xingchen left it in its place instead of strapping it to his own back in the morning. Now that Wen Qionglin brought it up, however, he realized two things. First, it had been weeks since Xingchen had carried Shuanghua, had even so much as touched Shuanghua, himself. Song Lan realized with a shock that Xingchen that he could not remember Xingchen wearing the sword since they had been in Cloud Recesses. Second, and more disturbing, Xingchen did not object to Wen Qionglin’s question. He did not try to explain or laugh it away with an easy “oh, I guess I just got out of the habit.” Instead, he had slumped, had pulled his hand out from under Song Lan’s, had turned away but not before Song Lan could see the clenched jaw, the pink spots over his eyes becoming more saturated, more red.

“Xiao-daozhang,” Wen Qionglin said evenly, “Xiao-daozhang, I think we might have more we should talk about. What do you think?”

Silence, stillness. And then a nod. Small, slight, but there.

A hesitating smile from Wen Qionglin, “Good. We can end here for today if you would like? I know we only just started but we can resume tomorrow morning after you have-“

“Why?” Xingchen’s uncharacteristically bitter tone pierced through Song Lan’s heart, but he didn’t know whether he should reach for Xingchen again, after his partner had pulled away from him so firmly.

Wen Qionglin did not have to wait nearly as long this time for Xingchen to elaborate. “Why do I…? I do feel better. I do! And you have all been so kind.” A slow, careful swallow, “And it is so wonderful here. And Zichen,” Xingchen’s voice hitched and he extended a hand, reaching, finding Song Lan’s, “Zichen, you have learned a whole language. Just for me. And I am grateful. I truly am. I don’t have anything more I want. I shouldn’t…”

Song Lan reached for the wet cloths Wen Qionglin always was sure to have available during their sessions, touching it to the back of Xingchen’s hand to let him know what he was about to do before reaching to wipe the red tracks now running down the other’s cheeks.

“Let’s go back to what you feel.” Wen Qionglin said, pulling Xingchen back, “Not why, not should or shouldn’t. Just what.”

Xingchen took a deep breath, “I’m… I don’t know. I feel,” he pursed his lips, squeezing Song Lan’s hand in a mirror gesture to Song Lan’s way of apologizing to him. Xingchen bowed his head, “I feel afraid.”

Every muscle in Song Lan’s body tensed at these words.

“Of what?” Wen Qionglin pressed.

“I… I don’t know.” Xingchen answered, his breaths coming more quickly, one after the other, “I just… I shouldn’t… I mean, I should… sorry…” He sounded exhausted.

Song Lan shot Wen Qionglin a look from beneath lowered brows, before shifting to place a hand to rub small circles into Xingchen’s shaking back. Xingchen let the hand support him but the breaths were still short, shallow. Wen Qionglin seemed to agree with Song Lan that it was time to calm things down, nodding back to Song Lan, saying, “Xiao-daozhang, let’s take some deep breaths together.” Xingchen nodded and Song Lan could feel, could hear the shuddering slow inhale his partner took. His heart ached for him, wishing he could help, but barely understanding what was wrong. Wen Qionglin had sometimes pushed back in his own one on one sessions with him over the years, but usually those were about training in new ways of thinking, not in objecting over the necessity of the treatment in the first place. Xingchen had said he was ok, so wasn’t he?

Wen Qionglin kept talking, voice steady and soothing, “Good. I… I want you to know. I think we’ll be able to get to the root of this with some more hard work, though, ok?”

Xingchen nodded, his breathing becoming steadier even as Song Lan reached for another cloth.

“Ok,” Wen Qionglin smiled, “I think we should end here for today, if you feel ok leaving it here for now?”

“I think so,” Xingchen said, voice husky.

Wen Qionglin chewed his lip.

Song Lan frowned, What is it? He signed. Xingchen turned to him and tilting his head in confusion at the loss of Song Lan’s touch. Wen-gongzi wants to say something, Song Lan explained with a few quick guqin chords before returning his hands to Xingchen’s hand and his back.

Wen Qionglin sighed and sent Song Lan a look that could only be interpreted as apologetic, “Xiao-daozhang, how would you feel about doing the next session just with the two of us?”

Song Lan gaped at Wen Qionglin, grip tightening on Xingchen’s hand.

A squeeze, another apology, from Xingchen, who replied, “I think that might be a good idea.”

Next: Chapter 6, Bliss: Life on the mountain now seemed more like a story he knew rather than a memory he had lived.

Also: sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! It turned out to be more challenging than I expected, alongside ongoing studying. I'm not going to commit to a specific timeline going forward, but just know I am always working on the next chapter so keep an eye out!