Wei Wuxian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acrookedpath) wrote2020-09-02 08:36 am
acrookedpath) wrote2020-09-02 08:36 am
[pfsb]
The latest idea that struck Wei Wuxian mid-lunch: if he combined one of the theoretical energy talismans with a paper doll, would that allow him to search the grounds for resentful energy without having to blanket the whole inn with talismans?
It seems like a sound idea! It won't replace the planned night hunt with Lan Zhan -- nor would he want it to -- but if he succeeds, it will be a fun experiment.
First, though: combining a paper doll with a simpler talisman. Which brings us to Wei Wuxian at a table underneath the Observation Window, not an inch left uncovered by his notes, scribbling onto a tiny cutout with a ballpoint pen Bar gave him. (What an invention!) He completes the last character with a flourish and waves his hand over the doll; it springs to its "feet," and, grinning, he directs it toward the empty cup perched precariously on a corner of the table.
It seems like a sound idea! It won't replace the planned night hunt with Lan Zhan -- nor would he want it to -- but if he succeeds, it will be a fun experiment.
First, though: combining a paper doll with a simpler talisman. Which brings us to Wei Wuxian at a table underneath the Observation Window, not an inch left uncovered by his notes, scribbling onto a tiny cutout with a ballpoint pen Bar gave him. (What an invention!) He completes the last character with a flourish and waves his hand over the doll; it springs to its "feet," and, grinning, he directs it toward the empty cup perched precariously on a corner of the table.
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"Wen Qing," he whispers, bleak. "She stopped me from following them. One of her needles."
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So much is explained, now. He had never understood how the Wens could have been taken by the Jin sect in the first place, how Wen Qing and Wen Ning could have surrendered themselves without Wei Ying stopping them. Because he would have, surely he would have, unless he was badly injured in the attack at Qiongqi Way, or worse--
When Xichen had sent word of what had happened, Lan Wangji had broken Shufu's decree restricting him to the Cloud Recesses save for official sect business, part of his punishment for going to Yiling before, and had traveled as fast as he could to the Burial Mounds, terrified at what he might find.
Wei Ying had not been there. Instead, he had found only A-Yuan, alone and feverish. Frantic with worry, he had nevertheless taken the time to bring the child to a doctor in Yiling, leaving him there with a promise to return, before he sped to Nightless City, only to arrive too late.
Too late.
"I knew something must have," he manages, each word half-choked by the tightness in his throat.
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He's crying freely again, one hand fisted in the collar of Lan Zhan's robes.
"I tried to break through it. I couldn't move fast enough. How could they? There were old women, children -- "
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Unthinkingly, he begins to rock back and forth, very slightly, trying to comfort him further against an impossible, vicious grief.
"It was wrong. They were innocents. It was wrong."
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He has just enough presence of mind to know Lan Zhan would be horrified if he spoke that thought aloud. But there are times when he has dreamt of the Wens, and awoken howling his grief into his pillow, when he wants to rip the entire mattress apart with his bare hands. When he screams not in heartbreak, but in a rage that threatens to break his mind open again. When he could inflict the full horror of the Yiling Patriarch upon the clans, everything they believed him to be and more, and still it would not be enough to satisfy him.
That little spark of fury dries up some of his tears. He draws a long, shuddering breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and sniffles again, trying to pull himself back to some distant relation of steadiness.
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It gives him the strength he needs to relax his hold, albeit only slightly.
"I am sorry."
For so many things, including not only his own failure, but that of Gusu Lan.
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As Lan Zhan loosens his hold, so does he, forcing himself to uncurl his fingers from the other man's robe. He pulls away just far enough to straighten up; his head stays bowed, most of his expression hidden behind his hair.
Clumsily, he scrubs at his eyes and draws another long breath.
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He rests that hand lightly on Wei Ying's arm and waits, silently, giving him all the time he needs.
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Very softly, at last: "Do you remember A-Yuan?"
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"I do."
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Simply said, his voice still thick with tears.
"I don't remember seeing him with -- with the others. Over the gates. I suppose I should be grateful they thought that much a step too far. Hanging a child's body up for display, like that."
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Even though he is still certain in the decision he had made previously, he cannot, he cannot let Wei Ying suffer, believing this.
"He did not die, Wei Ying."
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"What?"
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"A-Yuan is alive."
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Wei Wuxian breaks into a disbelieving laugh, still staring at Lan Zhan. He covers his mouth as another rush of tears stings his eyes.
"Lan Zhan, how?"
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He makes his voice stay as even as possible, trying as hard as he can not to let any of the panic he had felt that day show through - not now, not here, not when Wei Ying is still shaken from his nightmares.
"He was ill. I took him to a doctor, in Yiling. He survived."
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He's alive.
He's alive, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly smiling as bright at Lan Zhan has ever seen him -- though his eyes are still red, though his cheeks are still damp -- and with no further warning than that, he grabs Lan Zhan in a tight embrace.
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He can infer what must have happened after A-Yuan was left with the doctor. If he was severely ill, Lan Zhan may have already been in seclusion by the time he was better -- and while he does not trust Lan Qiren to have been kind to a Wen, even one as small as A-Yuan, maybe Zewu-jun was able to arrange something. A family in Yiling, or elsewhere, willing to take in a child. Willing to give him a good life.
A-Yuan is alive.
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He says it with quiet certainty.
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He was there when Wei Wuxian could not be.
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"So did you."
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In lieu of saying anything else, he lets go of Lan Zhan -- but only so he can shift close again, hands in his lap, and set his head back on Lan Zhan's shoulder.
He's alive. He keeps repeating those two words in his mind, silently marveling. Not everything was lost that day.
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He leans his head against the other man's and just breathes, quiet together in the darkness of the room.
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He still feels as if he'll crumble, should he move too suddenly. But he can breathe; his eyes are dry. And Lan Zhan is here. Their beds are barely a meter apart, but that feels much too far away right now. He isn't ready to move.
(Briefly, he wonders if he should push their beds closer, and dismisses the thought before it can take root.)
But some indeterminate time later, he catches himself nodding off against Lan Zhan's shoulder. With a reluctant sigh, he raises his head, blinking sleepily.
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