#rolls in poem symbolism for lans

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Do you know why is 云深不知处 popularly translated as cloud recesses? As far as I know (by that I mean recesses), it makes no sense? Like what about recesses makes them unknown or deep

(Ngl when I first heard 云深不知处, I thought it was 云深不知出 and if you called some place that, no wonder someone would think you’d be trying to imprison them lol)

Hi there!

For context for others and the original poem this comes from first:

Traditional Hanzi:

1 松下問童子

2 言師採藥去

3 只在此山中

4 雲深不知處

Simplified Hanzi:

1 松下问童子

2 言师采药去

3 只在此山中

4 深不知处

Pinyin:

1 Sōngxià wèn tóngzǐ

2 yán shī cǎi yào qù

3 zhǐ zài cǐ shānzhōng

4 yún shēn bùzhī chù

English (Just gonna have to deal with my shoddy attempt):

1 Beneath the bow of pines, I asked a disciple

2 My Master has gone to gather herbs that grow wild, he said

3 Somewhere on these mountains

4 Hidden in the clouds unknown

And here we have chù and chū at the end of these sentences. Simplified 处, Trad. 處,. And 出 which is what areuils is speaking of! The character to classify a location a place (usually somewhere that's pretty official, think office, facilities departments, etc) as well as 出 being used to classify dramas and opera plays. The 处, 處, character also heavily denotes punishment and discipline. This makes it seem a lot more intimidating and nightmarish. For the teenage boy that Wei Wuxian was at the time, it kind of makes it a fun little word play of his expectations and early views of the Lans and Lan Wangji and his own wild imagination at times.

For the English choice that the original translator chose (ExR) I at least thought it was wanting to stick to the spirit of the ideal monk-like ambience the original poem was portraying and took some heavy liberties for an English audience to keep in mind that the Gusu Lan clan are heavily monastic in living and tradition and are also mysteriously ethereal and untouched by the world (like the master we never see on page). Recesses sounds more monastic and peaceful I suppose in English even if it's not linguistically similar in the slightest to the hanzi and denotes a pathway more so than the actual unknown of mountains.

I personally enjoy the shrouded steeps as one translation to go with, as you said the official English denotation lacks the feel of a lurking unknown that the boy in the poem seems worried over and still too immature himself to go in like his hermit master.

I was also not one to enjoy how 乱葬岗, Luànzàng Gǎng is translated as Burial Mounds, as that still feels far too respectful for it, even if meant ironically in English.

But the woes of translations eh? And that footnotes cannot be chapters in themselves for readers because it's all just so brilliant and wonderful to delve into.

[grapefruitsketches]

What We Wish For

For fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 5: Lantern

Rated G, 566 Words. WWX-centric, Post-Canon, Nostalgia, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending, The Lantern Scene(TM)

Also available on AO3

Surveying the scene, Wei Wuxian was hit with a heavy wave of nostalgia.

Rings of young cultivators, grouped together to form an even greater circle. All wearing Cloud Recesses white. All preparing their lanterns, varying expressions of concentration, frustration, laughter across their faces.

Each one with hopes, dreams, fears, anxieties.

Each one putting who they were into their lanterns.

Wen Ning and Sizhui smiled softly as they painted the Wen sect symbol together. Their own modification – different enough that no one would conflate it with memories of the war, similar enough that the residents of Dafan Mountain, the little family in the Burial Mounds, would have recognized it.

Jin Ling and Jingyi lounged by their lantern, instructing Zizhen, the appointed artist, to add this and that. The lantern was covered in a jumbled mishmash, each angle revealing a different image: a dog, a donkey, a peony, and what looked like the first line of a poem that Zizhen had been composing and recomposing aloud to himself throughout this visit.

All the lanterns were made of standard, Gusu-sourced materials. There was no priceless paper from the Cheyun Works in sight.

Sometimes Wei Wuxian wondered what the others had wished for back then. Should he have asked? Waited for a true answer? Had Wen Qing been calculating, even then, how to keep herself, her family safe? How to get them out of an impossible situation? Wei Wuxian remembered that Nie Huaisang had laughed later that day, saying  he had only wished to never have to come back to Cloud Recesses. Jiang Cheng had rolled his eyes and it was impossible to tell whether his flush was one of anger or of embarrassment when Wei Wuxian said he must have wished for his dream girl to come to him one day. Had Shijie really wished for him to mature gracefully, to be well-behaved, or had she actually wished for a good marriage? He hoped the latter. He wanted to believe that his Shijie had had at least some of her wishes granted.

That had been almost 20 years ago. Now, not one of them was here.

“Wei Ying?” his husband gently cut into his musings.

“Ah, it’s nothing, Lan Zhan,“ Wei Wuxian said quickly, “I was just thinking about wishes and…” he shook his head, smiling softly, “It’s nothing.”

Lan Wangji looked at him skeptically, but seemed to decide that this was neither the time nor the place. “Are you ready to launch ours?”

Ours. Wei Wuxian looked down at the lantern. His carefully drawn rabbit next to the first few notes of their song, carefully written out by the composer. Another change from back then, but a welcome one.

His smile grew warmer, more heartfelt, lighting from within.

“Mnm. Yes.” Wei Wuxian nodded.

He looked around one more time. He recognized each one of the young faces in the clearing, not all by name, but certainly by the wonder on their faces. The unknown, unwritten futures each of them represented.

They launched the lanterns as one, flames lighting up the sky, paper lanterns rising like snow that didn’t yet know it was meant to fall.

As they all closed their eyes, Wei Wuxian was once again already sure of his wish.

I, Wei Wuxian, wish that whatever these young disciples wish for, so long as it comes from the heart, will come to pass. Without suffering. Without regret.

[alchemist-shizun]

Anagnorisis

(AU belongs to @pistachiolan​. Check the notes for more info!)

ἁναγνώρισις: Sudden and unexpected recognizing of the identity of a character in tragedies or other written works, which often determines the turning point in a story. (Latin: Agnitio)

Merry super extra late Christmas aaand at this point this can count as a happy new year gift? I've been literally working on this since last decade, this is some dedication. I hope you like it Lan!! Lov u

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 3,812

Characters: Roman, Virgil (Patton and Logan are mentioned), Thomas

Pairing(s): pre-Prinxiety

Warning(s): Migraine (and its symptoms), implied mind control, self-harm, crying, implied panic attack, some metaphors might be a bit graphic, please tell me if I missed anything!

Summary: Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people. And then came the headaches.

Song used: Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty

A/N: I now have Once Upon a Dream stuck in my head. I like to call this "let me just take all the creative liberties I can get and distort everything about the plot". Okay I have no clue if this is at all the idea you had in mind so I improvised thanks to the lyrics, I hope this isn't too far off? Either way, enjoy the angst and these two pining boys cause I sure as hell had a good time. To all my regular readers: you have no idea what’s coming. (Don’t forget to check out @pistachiolan’s profile for their fantastically marvellous au which you can find in their blog under the #TsCultAu tag) The poem Roman recites is a rough translation I did of Catullus's 48th carmen (had a book of his poems and ended up using my fav ofc). The narrated parts in cursive are either thoughts or past events, the parts in cursive and bold are the song lyrics.

✾

❝I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts.

Cause I don't care if I lose my mind,

I'm already cursed ❞

I know you!

A hand flew to Roman's face, which was contorting with unwelcome pain he hadn't seen coming, before he could even register it was his own.

His fingers pressed on a spot between his eyes and the bridge of his nose, his skin wrinkled around them and he had to steady himself against the rocky wall that led to the dungeons.

The dungeons.

Roman attempted to take a look at the stairs he was on: he was met with a flash, or maybe they were multiple flashes, attacking his vision like sharp blades diving into your skin numerous times, one right after the other.

He was blinded.

Eyes closed again, a whimper came out of his mouth; his free hand found its way to his forehead, getting warmer by the second along with his face, then it slid through his hair, barely able to feel its texture.

Too much of a recurring sensation.

Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people.

And then came the headaches. When he forced himself to remember or clear the discordance in his memories, pain would come.

Oh, come on Roman, his head would reprimand, didn't you learn by now you shouldn't do that?

Headaches turned into fully-fledged migraines.

And hallucinations.

At least that was what he called them. He would be certain of events that had never taken place.

For instance, dungeons.

Roman had been walking down the path leading to them when his mind started to drift away: it happened the same way you look at an object and a memory hits you before its meaning.

For some reason, he remembered being there with Virgil in the past, they had conversations about carvings in the back of the furthest cell, which became the symbol of a legend kids told to scare each other.

It was insane.

Insane his mind could ever fathom the possibility of interacting with Virgil.

Sure, his distress towards Virgil had diminished the more he'd been around without causing any trouble or suspicion, but a memory was a memory. They had yet to have a serious conversation that wasn't necessary, a memory meant they had already spent time alone together as if they had been childhood friends.

Doubt came in, but there had never been solid proof of Virgil himself being up to something, so he had decided to drop that theory.

Roman fell down, but didn't rise up like he usually did in conflicts.

The pulsing in his head made him nauseous; everything was spinning, even the void he was met with once his eyes were closed.

His arms went over his head, trying to shield it from any other malevolent deity that had decided to plague him.

It just all felt so real.

As if he had known Virgil all along.

I walked with you once upon a dream.

Months, months and still no sign of defeat.

Now, who the hell was thinking that messing up with Roman's brain was a fun activity to spend time with?

Even his subconscious had to shove him further down the hole confusion had created: his dreams often displayed all too familiar situations, all too familiar events he knew he had been in, but with that one particular difference in them.

Virgil was present in every single one of them.

It made him lose his mind, so much that he was barely able to bear his sight anymore. He'd feel somewhat embarrassment, he'd turn away after a single glance, as if he had gotten burnt by it.

And then he'd never tear his gaze off of him because, gods of the Empyrean, that boy had to be up to something or else he had no idea where to begin to look for clues.

What a terrible mistake.

Instead, he ended up with the image of Virgil constantly occupying his mind, everywhere he went to, there wouldn't be a moment where his thoughts wouldn't drift away from his task and focus on him.

Daydreaming and migraines became one, distinguished only by the type of pain they caused. Emotional and physical.

Overthinking was his main daily pastime.

And what if his mind was actually trying to tell him something? Dreams often had meanings, so what was his subconscious up to exactly?

That was Roman's train of thought upon waking up from one of those fated dreams, the pounding in his head a visitor who had now become a close friend.

Only thing he was sure of, was that what he had to concentrate on was the fact that it involved Virgil. He tried to recall all of his past hallucinations, all the fake memories, trying to connect the dots between them.

If only he had Logan's skills, he would've had cleared it up in a second. Of course, this one thought was something he was never going to admit and that he would have willingly taken to his grave.

Going into detail was a mess, all the events that had displayed in his mind or in front of his eyes had no correlation whatsoever; so he started looking at the big picture, put labels onto what he remembered.

Those memories. They were all … happy. Carefree little quotidian life bites.

And he felt serene, something that had to be ruined by the massive physical pain. His thoughts told him to stay in those memories, to hold onto them the longest he could, to endure the constant aching so he could stay that additional moment.

It was another him, another Roman who was desperately trying to catch his past and bring it back to himself.

Present Roman wouldn't have been able to perceive that conclusion.

Actually, present Roman was currently losing his mind.

Because just what if what he hadn't realized by then was exactly what he had been focusing on all along?

Feelings. Feelings for someone who had been infesting his thoughts ever since he had arrived.

I know you!

Roman was a knight walking around the village in a busy afternoon at the marketplace. One turn towards a figure in front of a stand, a few feet away, and he switched to distressed knight mode.

« You've got to be kidding me. »

Virgil kept himself from jumping in surprise and faced the owner of the voice right behind him. A single infuriating eyebrow was raised in confusion.

« Pardon me if I dare to show up and get Patton the stuff he needs. » everything was accompanied by a whispered “geez” and an eye-roll.

Again, infuriating.

« That's not- ugh, you're always putting words in my mouth! » Roman watched as Virgil started to walk away.

But he didn't sense the bitterness left in the boy's chest, the one he felt every single time their conversations resulted into senseless bickering.

Then, it happened again.

Virgil stood next to the fountain and Roman's head started spinning.

The way the sun rays hit the water, glimmering in delight, the sparkles that reflected onto Virgil's clothes, the sound it made when he quickly passed a hand through the small cascade.

Dumbfounded, the knight approached him again, searching the scene with his eyes for even the smallest clue to prove him either right or wrong, he simply wanted to get it over with.

Of course, the other noticed his staring. « Like what you see? » Virgil jokingly asked, a hint of sarcasm never leaving his voice.

Yeah, I'm trying to figure that out. Roman stayed silent for another second.

« Are you going to walk back? »

« I don't have a carriage, I apologize. »

He sighed and wondered if he really was considering having feelings for such a … a-

Virgil chuckled right after, ducking his head toward his hand, which shielded his smile.

Gosh, he was gorgeous.

Roman fought a peculiar instinct to pull the hand away and let the whole world be blessed by such a sight. And maybe it was the first time he had smiled like that in his presence, maybe it was the first time after so long of not being able to do that.

Maybe it wasn't the first time at all and Virgil was simply a master at hiding it when Roman wasn't looking. When he didn't want him to realize the truth that could've hurt both of them in brutal ways.

« Well, » Roman snapped back to reality, trying to ignore the headache at best. « It just so happens that I have a horse. » he gestured to the beginning of the plaza.

« No, you don't. » a cryptic expression crossed Virgil's face.

« Wha- » Roman turned just that much to notice that, yes, his horse had definitely freed himself and was now on the loose around the village. « Oh my gods. Oh- Oh my gods. » his hands flew to his hair. « Nope. No. Absolutely unreal. This isn't happening. »

« Dramatic much? » Virgil approached the broken ladder still tied to a fence and started examining it.

« What are you doing? »

« Helping you. »

Roman was getting drunk by all the deja vus he had been getting that day.

Virgil showed him the direction in which the horse had run away, judging by what was left of the ladder. « He might be in his favourite spot. »

« Favourite spot? » his words felt almost slurred, like he had cotton in his mouth.

The other pretended he didn't notice how odd his behaviour had been for the past week. « You don't remember your horse's own routine? »

Roman didn't even know he had one.

After some sighs and an incredulous conversation, they reached a clearing in the woods, where the horse was promptly considering whether or not to swiftly jump and reach one of the fruits on the trees.

« Samson! Really, running off like that on me? »

The animal happily trotted towards them, resting his face against Roman's hand before facing Virgil and surprisingly nuzzling his cheek. For some reason, Samson had always taken a liking into Virgil, which had made it really difficult to interact with the boy in the past.

It was as if Virgil had been his best friend before he was Roman's.

Like he had known him for as long as they did too.

The headache hit his forehead once more.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

Relax time, Patton had called it.

Stressful weeks had been pestering Roman, Virgil and Logan, all for different reasons, yet there never seemed to be time to catch some breath.

Patton had insisted some untroubled hours at night, sat around a little welcoming fire, would have helped their constant stiffness.

So there they were, watching flames try to reach the sky and fail with every attempt.

Oddly enough, their conversations were … simple. Nothing too heavy, no bickering or sarcasm, some jokes but not an overbearing amount.

Roman had his eyes fixated on the fire.

The voices started to drift away from his hearing and everything became muffled as he zoned out, leaving space for the familiar buzzing of nightly insects.

« Earth to Roman, did the gods finally take you away? »

Of course he was sitting next to Virgil.

Of course his whispering would bring his attention back despite having ignored any other louder noise.

He turned his head slightly, his head was resting in his crossed arms on his knees.

« I wish. » he let it out before he could stop himself.

Virgil simply chuckled. « Same, but I don't think Pat would be too happy with that. » And some others, too.

He faced the fire and let its light reflect in his eyes.

Roman believed he could see the stars. « Mhm. »

Virgil seemed to ponder something, reflect on a decision; he could have stayed silent, he could have simply not indulged in a certain matter any further, because that would have costed his life. But he needed proof.

And so he spoke.

« You'll be fine, princey. None hates you here. »

There it was again. Virgil made his best not to immediately check his reaction, but he could see from the corner of his eye how Roman was already raising a hand to his head.

Okay, he thought, something is up.

He bit his lip and ignored the anguished feelings rising in his chest.

Yet I know it's true the visions are seldom all they seem.

Where did that even come from? Why did he call him that, why did it feel so normal as if he'd been used to it his entire life?

What was happening?

Why was his heart beating so fast as he replayed the scene in his head? With Virgil's eyes glimmering against the sky and that smile hidden in the dark.

Who dared to send him so deep in the admiration zone to forget about the continuous pain he was subjecting himself to while being around Virgil so much?

When exactly did he sign the “I will dedicate my existence to destroy myself in order to be around such a human” contract?

To think that months prior he would have called him monster.

Then again, what a peculiar word it was. A mixture or positive and negative meanings, it was the extraordinary, a prodigy, a miracle. That incredible thing that also presented itself as a heinous atrocity.

And it had devoured his mind.

Here he was, now, countless migraines after, finally accepting his feelings because he was at the last stop before having that nightmare finally end.

Except it didn't.

Except non-existent memories of him and Virgil in a past he had never experienced came back to him at once and stronger than before. He couldn't almost breathe and he had no idea where he was going.

But he needed to find Thomas.

Last resort, as they say. A literal deity would have solved the problem in the blink of an eye.

Right.

Thomas had a weird twinkle in his eyes when Roman explained how often he had been getting the headaches and what was the recurrent situation the dreams displayed.

He made him sit down somewhere … he was too clouded by the pain to understand where he was exactly.

« I perfectly know what's going on. » Thomas had reassured him. « Trust in me, everything will be alright soon. »

Yet, when he placed his hands above Roman's head and he closed his eyes not to be blinded by an all too familiar glow, “alright” would have been the last thing he would have felt.

Or it wouldn't have been a word at all, because with the persistent twisting and turning and deleting and reforming of his thoughts and memories in his mind, there was no way he believed there could have existed anything else but pain in the world.

Roman didn't even have the strength to scream anymore.

And it was agonizing. Dangerously agonizing, as he fell to his knees and couldn't even feel the touch of his own hands vehemently pressing on his eyes, strong enough to push them far back into his eye sockets.

Maybe he was actually shrieking so loud his hearing had failed him long before.

His fingers dug onto the sides of his face and fell down on his cheeks, the nails traced red paths down both of them, white bits of dead skin left by them crossed paths with bitter tears that were somehow able to escape the limit his palms put.

« Everything will be alright. » Thomas had repeated while he nonchalantly destroyed the poor boy's mind. « You don't need him. »

That was the downfall of his discernment.

« I'll fix it for you. »

But if I know you,

When the blinding light ceased to hit his face, Roman's entire body plunged into the pavement for a split second, before immediately scrambling back to his feet.

His vision was back, the headache was gone.

But the confusion …

The thoughts that were now forming into his mind. Those were the doleful sting of skin thrown carelessly into flames: just as the skin burned and turned into an ashen damaged substance, so Roman's memories were filled with blank gaps and eroded by the flames of Thomas's power.

« I need- » he stormed out of the room without ever completing the line.

What he needed was actual reassurance.

If before his memories only conflicted with each other, now Roman felt like his whole life he had lived an illusion.

Gods, what was even true at that point?

So, he needed.

He needed answers, confirmations, he needed to feel authenticity.

Roman knocked on a door.

When Virgil opened it, he was met with the sight of a dishevelled and devastated boy, with red on his cheeks and in his eyes. This boy suppressed a sob, barely able to keep his lips from trembling.

« Are you even real? »

It was the exact same feeling as having a crowbar hitting his teeth: insanely painful and impossible to bear.

Followed by colossal quantities of resentment.

Virgil moved carefully, he let Roman in before closing the door behind them and let him sit on a chair in his room. In a second, he was already at the knight's side with a glass of water placed on the desk next to them. Eyes wide with concern, trying to fight the angered shaking of his hands.

He knew it all. That was just the confirmation. Yet, he couldn't talk, only help. Which was the first priority at the moment: care for Roman.

« What happened? » nothing. « Are you hurt anywhere? » still nothing.

His lips contorted with concern; Virgil watched the other try to steady his breath, looking around the room to see if he could still distinguish whether or not he was hallucinating.

Roman raised his arms and pulled Virgil close to him. It felt real. He buried his face in his chest, and still felt real. The tears wetting Virgil's shirt were real.

Real, real, real.

You're real, Roman. He's real. Your feelings are real.

He held him closer.

I know what you'll do.

How long Virgil had denied everything in favour of his safety.

And anyway, as soon as he was back, Roman had instantly hated him, who could even blame him for suppressing the truth?

Then things changed. He had noticed the alterations in Roman's demeanour, the loss in his focus, how disoriented he had started to become.

Townspeople constantly told him to pray to the gods, go visit Thomas for some “blessings”.

Yeah, right.

Virgil's heavy knot contorted in his stomach at the sole thought.

Instead of burdening himself even more, he passed a hand through Roman's hair, maybe embracing him with his other arm a little too tightly.

His feelings blossomed at once again, so much harder than before, as if he had bottled them up for so much time that they exploded simultaneously at the first display of affection he received.

Too long he had waited for something as simple as a hug. And there was only one to blame.

Roman wasn't even able to talk, he didn't want to move and face his issues, there was no way he would have wished to speak up about anything that had happened.

He felt damaged. He barely knew his identity at all and Virgil's presence was so grounding that he would have stayed in his arms forever.

Which Virgil would have gladly accepted.

« Can you tell me a place? » Virgil lowered at his level so he could look him in the eyes. « Somewhere safe, a comforting space? »

Roman sniffed one last time before being finally able to respond.

« The Black Lake. »

You'll love me at once.

Seeing someone calm down on the spot, with the breathing evening out nicely, was a rather cathartic experience, Virgil's own tight chest could finally be released from the grip of anxiety.

The two were sitting by the limit of the Lake, which was enlightened by the moonbeams.

« Follow me now. » Virgil called for Roman's attention. « Focus on the water. »

Roman did as instructed.

« What's your name? »

Grounding exercises.

« Roman Kingsley. »

« How old are you? »

« 22. »

Virgil waited for Roman to take a deep breath.

« What's your title? »

« I'm a knight. »

What is the name of your brothe- « Tell me the name of one of your friends. »

« You. Virgil. »

How can you even exist?

Virgil tried to hide a wide smile at best, while his heart jumped happily.

« Where do you live? »

« In this village. »

« Where are you now? »

« At the lake in the forest. » Roman took more breaths with his eyes closed. « You're with me. You're a friend, I think? I don't know it's all so confusing- »

« It's okay, let's talk about something else. » Virgil let the silence sink in purposefully, so the other could regain his focus.

He watched as Roman moved closer to the water and immersed his hand in it, pushing the water away in vain.

« Can you tell me something you learnt by heart? »

Roman didn't take his eyes off of the water.

He seemed to think about it for a second. « If someone, Juventius, would let me kiss your honey-like eyes to the bitter end, » the steady movement of his hand was almost hypnotizing. « I'd kiss them three hundred thousand times; never will I feel like I'm satisfied, » he raised his hand and stared at the drops falling back into the lake, creating the chaos that mirrored the one in his head. « Not even if the harvest of our kissing were to be thicker than the dried ears of corn. »

Virgil snapped back to reality when he felt Roman's head rest on his shoulder, his eyes closed again, but this time they weren't squeezed shut with pain.

« Thank you. » he whispered.

And, for once, nothing was wrong.

✾

« Want to know why this is my favorite place? »

In another memory, in another past, Virgil had turned to Roman with a small but expectant smile. « Why? »

« No matter how many times I come here, » Roman had returned the smile, holding so many more things he was never going to be able to tell him. « You're always here with me. »

The way you did once upon a dream.