Chapter Text
Everything hurts.
Realistically, that isn’t new. Ever since he started cultivating with resentful energy, pain has been Wei Wuxian’s constant companion. Really, ever since he lost his golden core, but so many things went so wrong in such quick succession after that it’s hard to be sure if losing his core is the problem, or if it’s the resentful energy, or something else entirely.
In any case, it’s practically an old friend, the ache deep in his bones. But this is…different. It’s sharper, like knives digging into his meridians, and the resentful energy that he is so used to guiding and bending to his will feels slippery. Loose. Like he can’t quite get a good grip on it.
There is also blood. A lot of blood. Wei Wuxian is half-aware that Wen Ning probably made most of it, when he launched at Jin Zixun in defense of his Wei-gongzi. That’s bad. Wei Wuxian knows it’s bad. But Jin Zixun was talking a lot of shit for a man in heart-extracting range, and it seems that now all his flapping and sputtering is silent.
“Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan says, standing between Wei Wuxian and the rest of the Jin disciples, “please, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
There is something dark, rising out of the ground of Qiongqi Road, and Wei Wuxian feels it seeking to overwhelm him. It wants to flood his body, and there is so much power there, he is almost ready to let it in—
The sound of a guqin cuts through the haze.
Wei Wuxian nearly drops Chenqing in shock.
“Lan Zhan?“ His voice cracks, which surprises him.
“Ah, apologies, Wei-gongzi,” a voice that is distinctly not Lan Zhan’s says from beside him. Wei Wuxian inhales. No, that isn’t Lan Zhan’s sandalwood scent. It’s something lighter, softer. An Omega, not an Alpha like Lan Zhan. “Wrong brother.”
There’s almost-humor in the voice, which Wei Wuxian realizes must belong to Lan Xichen. He turns, and looks, and confirms it; Lan Xichen is there, plucking at his guqin. Strange, since he usually uses a xiao, but—
Wei Wuxian feels that awful, resentful tide begin to bleed away around him, chased away by the notes of a song he now realizes is “Clarity.”
Jin Zixuan looks relieved.
“Wei Wuxian,” he says, softly, a little desperately, “A-Li is still waiting for you. So is A-Ling. Please.”
Lan Xichen’s playing shifts. Wei Wuxian recognizes this melody, too—“Rest.” He feels a little bitter about it. He’s not a fierce corpse that needs to be put under sedation with spiritual music.
(Although. He supposes. He did just have Wen Ning kill a whole bunch of Jins, and he’s really not sure why he did that, and—
He jerks up, looking past Zixuan, and sees someone else—brown hair, partial high ponytail in a guan, Nie colors, too slender to be Nie Mingjue but not enough fan-fluttering to be Nie Huaisang, so Wei Wuxian really cannot be expected to guess which Nie disciple this is—gently helping Wen Ning stand. Wen Ning looks confused, and then afraid, but whoever it is says something to him, and he relaxes. Okay, at least this person has the decency to talk to Wen Ning like he’s human, that’s nice.)
“I didn’t curse your idiot cousin,” Wei Wuxian says, instead of the million other things he’s thinking, and he sways, trying to resist the calming song, but Lan Xichen is incredibly powerful.
“I know.” Zixuan sounds remarkably confident. Wei Wuxian supposes that’s nice.
He loses the fight with “Rest,” and collapses.
When he wakes again, it is dark, and the soft notes of “Clarity” echo around him. He tries to reach up to grip his pounding head, but finds that he can’t, and he struggles a little before realizing that he is bound very firmly, with ropes that suppress spiritual energy.
Oh. That’s cute. They think he has spiritual energy to suppress. He supposes that means no one really felt around his meridians while he was unconscious, or they probably wouldn’t have bothered, since Wei Wuxian is a factory of resentful energy now. None of the clean stuff to be found.
“Wei Ying?”
The voice that asks is soft, a little tremulous. Wei Wuxian isn’t used to hearing that much shaking in Lan Zhan’s words—it strikes him right in the chest, in the part of him that always feels warm when Lan Zhan turns his attention on him, even irritated attention.
“I’m awake, Lan Zhan,” he says, and he shifts. “Where am I?”
“Cells under Golden Carp Tower.” Wei Wuxian lifts his head, and shakes it a little to get the hair out of his face, and realizes that Lan Zhan is not, as he’d expected, sitting outside his cell. He is, in fact, on the ground, next to Wei Wuxian, fingers carefully moving over Wangji as he plays. “Jin Guangshan was not pleased with your killing of his nephew. Or his disciples.”
“Yeah, I imagine he wouldn’t be,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “Is Jin Zixuan okay? And where’s the Yin Tiger Tally?”
“He is fine.” Lan Zhan pauses in his playing, and frowns, deeply. “Jin Guangshan has put the Yin Tiger Tally under a series of restriction seals, or so he says. He has not allowed anyone else to see it, not even his own sons.”
“If they do exist, I guarantee his seals aren’t as good as mine,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan nods, looking deeply unhappy, and Wei Wuxian frowns. “Knew I shouldn’t have brought it. Couldn’t risk leaving it, though.”
“Mn. Not a good situation, either way,” Lan Zhan says, softly. His eyes move to Wei Wuxian. “What about you? Xichen said that you were behaving strangely, and that your cultivation seemed out of control.”
“You must feel very vindicated,” Wei Wuxian says, dryly, “since you have been warning me—“
Lan Zhan looks so stricken that Wei Wuxian might as well have hit him, which makes him stop speaking.
“No,” Lan Zhan says, very softly. “I do not feel vindicated. While I have had concerns about your path, up until now, you have had your abilities well and under control. You are an exceptional cultivator, Wei Ying. A loss of control like this is alarming.”
“…Wow,” Wei Wuxian says, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
There is something inscrutable in Lan Zhan’s gaze. Then, he begins playing again, and Wei Wuxian huffs.
“I feel fine. Just tell me what I’ve got to look forward to.”
Lan Zhan does not stop playing, and Wei Wuxian can’t decide if he’s annoyed by that or not.
“Jin Guangshan has called an emergency Discussion Conference, to hold a trial for you. Xichen and Jin Guangyao are working to persuade Nie Mingjue to push for an investigation, and I certainly have no wish to see you imprisoned or dead.” He sighs.
This is, actually, a bit of a surprise. Wei Wuxian had sort of expected, from all the times that Lan Zhan has asked him to come back to Gusu, that he did want to see him imprisoned. And yet here he is, saying that he does not as if that is so obvious it need not even be said.
Sometimes, Wei Wuxian thinks he understands Lan Zhan very well, but every once in a while, Lan Zhan will do something like this, and Wei Wuxian is left wondering if he understands anything at all.
“But,” Lan Zhan continues, “it is difficult to predict what Jiang-zongzhu will do, and many of the smaller clans are…” Lan Zhan grimaces. “Not on your side. Especially not given your protection of the Wen remnants.”
“They are elders and children, ” Wei Wuxian says, frustration bubbling in his chest. Lan Zhan inclines his head.
“Yes. And what was being done to them was unacceptable. But, as Guangyao has been impressing upon me,” he looks deeply displeased, “people’s feelings are often not affected by what is true or right, especially in situations like these.”
Wei Wuxian sighs, frustratedly. It’s true, he has to admit. And having two out of four Great Clans on his side might be as much a hindrance as a help, when it comes to the smaller clans—it’s not impossible that they might see it as imposing their will to protect one of their own, even if Wei Wuxian isn’t of Yunmeng Jiang anymore.
“Plus, you’re recently appointed as clan head, and Nie Mingjue is your brother’s husband,” Wei Wuxian says, unhappily. Another bit of political reality that tilts the situation even less in his favor.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan acknowledges. “It is…not an ideal situation.”
“That’s a very nice way of putting it, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. He exhales, and he can’t quite look at his…friend? Are they friends? He really does not know. He does know, though, that Lan Zhan is honorable. A good man. “If Jin Guangshan demands my head,” he says, because it seems smart to plan for it, “please. Protect the Wens.”
“I will do everything in my power to do so,” Lan Zhan says, softly. Wei Wuxian believes him.
The last note of “Clarity” echoes through the underground cell.
Lan Zhan stands, and returns Wangji to its place on his back.
“Wei Ying,” he says, and his voice is soft. “I will also do everything in my power to ensure you are safe.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian starts, but he doesn’t quite know what else to say. There is so much sincerity in Lan Zhan’s voice, and it makes his chest hurt.
Lan Zhan steps out of the door of his cell, and Wei Wuxian is left alone.
“You aren’t stopping me,” Jiang Yanli’s voice says, echoing down the hallway to Wei Wuxian’s cell barely half an incense time after Lan Zhan leaves.
“A-Li, please,” Jin Zixuan says, “we can send food to him another way.”
“I am going to see my brother, ” Yanli says, in her tone that brooks absolutely no argument. Wei Wuxian is very familiar with it; it’s the one she uses on him and Jiang Cheng when she thinks they’re being particularly bullheaded and stupid.
Jin Zixuan makes a noise that sounds somewhere between resigned and distressed, but he blessedly shuts up. He’s gotten more tolerable over the years, but that doesn’t mean Wei Wuxian likes him. Yes, he obviously makes Yanli happy. Yes, he seems far more tolerable than his father or his now-very-dead-oops cousin. But Wei Wuxian has trouble forgetting the cruel way he treated Yanli in the past. No proper Alpha should ever treat any Omega that way, never mind one they intend to bond with.
Wei Wuxian certainly can’t imagine ever accepting an Alpha like that. Not like his field is particularly broad, admittedly—most nice Alphas aren’t fond of demon-summoning Yiling Patriarchs—but still. Principle of the thing.
This time, he sees Yanli and Jin Zixuan coming down—Yanli has roped him into carrying a bowl of soup that fills the air with an incredibly familiar scent.
It smells like lotus root and pork rib and spice. It smells like home .
“A-Xian!” Yanli says, and she pushes the door open, running over to him and kneeling in front of him. Her hands come up to cup his face, and she turns it left and right, and her frown deepens. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she says. “And have you been eating at all?”
“I eat,” Wei Wuxian says, “and I just woke up from a nice long nap!” Yanli makes a face at him that indicates she is not here to tolerate his bullshit.
“Not enough, clearly,” she says, and she beckons Zixuan over. He hands over the bowl of lotus root and pork rib soup, and she frowns. “Surely we can unite A-Xian for this,” she says.
“Ah,” Jin Zixuan shifts uncomfortably. “My father would be…very unhappy.”
“Don’t get into it with your father-in-law over me,” Wei Wuxian tells Yanli. She frowns, but scoops up a spoonful of soup and shoves it in his mouth.
“Fine,” she says.
While she feeds him, she talks—not about the looming trial, but about Jin Ling, and how quickly he’s growing, and how excited he’ll be to meet his uncle. She talks about Madam Jin, who she confesses to not liking very much, which makes Jin Zixuan look somewhat uncomfortable; and about her friends in the kitchen at the Golden Carp Tower, who were stunned to have the heir’s wife come down and join them to cook; and about all sorts of charming gossip, like how excited little Lan Jingyi is that he has a third a-die now, since Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue officially made Jin Guangyao their third. Apparently, that news came to Jin Guangshan’s barely-concealed relief; Wei Wuxian isn’t surprised to hear that he’s happy to have Jin Guangyao out of his hair, truth be told, but Yanli seems very unhappy about how cold he was about his son’s departure. Jin Zixuan looks equally uncomfortable about this, but he does express, rather genuinely by Wei Wuxian’s estimation, that he’s happy that his half-brother is happy, which is something.
He notices that she does not talk about anything to do with Jiang Cheng, or Yunmeng Jiang in general. He wonders if she’s trying to spare his feelings. It does ache, a little, because he’d like to know—he wants to hear whatever nonsense Jiang Cheng is getting up to in his attempts to woo Nie Huaisang, as faltering and ridiculous as they are. He’d like to know how the rebuilding efforts are going, and what the new disciples are getting up to.
He’s never going to see Lotus Pier again, he realizes. He should have lingered longer, the last time he was there. But he hadn’t expected it to be goodbye for good.
Finally, Yanli has finished stuffing him with soup, and she looks miserable as she stands up to leave.
“Jin Zixuan,” Wei Wuxian says, as the two of them start towards the door. Jin Zixuan pauses, and turns to look at him. “How long?”
He doesn’t need to clarify. Yanli looks upset to be reminded of what’s looming over them, but it has to be asked.
“Tomorrow,” Jin Zixuan says. “You slept for five days, so now that you’re awake, Father wants to start moving immediately.” He exhales. “And, for what it’s worth—I’m going to try and convince him to be lenient.”
“Don’t try too hard,” Wei Wuxian says, tiredly. The reality is that Jin Guangshan does not like him very much, and moreover, Jin Guangshan covets his power. He will do anything to see Wei Wuxian dead or brought to heel, especially after the first incident at Qiongqi Road. There is little Jin Zixuan can do, Wei Wuxian suspects, and even less he can do that won’t cause any number of problems for him, for Yanli, and for baby Jin Ling.
“...Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan says. “I like the name. Jin Rulan. It’s a good name, for our son.”
“I know,” Wei Wuxian says, and he grins, wryly. “I’ll see you at the trial.”
Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli leave, and Wei Wuxian is left alone.
No one else visits him. Servants bring him another meal, and he gets the impression from their chatter that Jin Guangshan is not happy about the visits he did receive. He says little, instead focusing on trying to make some sort of plan that ends with him getting out of here and being able to continue to protect the Wens.
Maybe if he throws himself at Jin Guangshan’s feet—Jin Guangshan certainly does have a taste for comely Omegas, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he’s flattering himself by putting himself in that category. But, no. The prospect is deeply distasteful, and in truth, Wei Wuxian is a lot more of a romantic than he pretends to be, so the idea of selling himself off is….gratuitously unappealing.
That kiss from a stranger on Phoenix Mountain still haunts him. He wants to know who it was, desperately. It’s unlikely he ever will. All he knows is the scent of sandalwood and Alpha, and while it had seemed familiar, he still couldn’t quite place it.
So, anyway, attempting to make himself Jin Guangshan’s concubine, off the table. Plus, if he did that, he’d have a whole new Madam Jin-shaped problem, and this is not the time to be making more problems for himself. Maybe he can try to plead his case, though he can’t guarantee anyone will listen.
What happened at Qiongqi itches under his skin. It was wrong. He’d expected to find some resentful energy there, of course, considering what happened, but the amount, and the fervor with which it launched itself for him and twisted itself around him—it didn’t feel right, now that he was away from it.
Maybe he’ll say something to Lan Zhan, if he gets the chance. Lan Zhan will look into it. His unwavering sense of justice wouldn’t let something like that hang in the air.
He does not sleep well, that night, but he cannot imagine that anyone expects him to. His hands are bound, the floor of his cell is uncomfortable, and the closest there is to a bed is a heap of cloth on the ground where he’d first woken up, which does at least soften the discomfort somewhat.
Still, when two Jin disciples come down and very forcibly grab him to drag him out, it feels like not nearly enough time has passed. It cannot possibly be the next day, and he cannot possibly be being hauled up to face whatever accusations Jin Guangshan intends to level at him.
Unfortunately for him, it is. He’s hauled up more stairs than he can count, down hallways, and finally dragged to a room he recognizes from various Discussion Conferences he’d attended in the past. That great, vast Before, when he was Yunmeng Jiang Clan’s head disciple.
There are familiar faces gathered. Nie Mingjue sits flanked by Lan Xichen and someone who is vaguely familiar. A young man, in Nie robes, brown hair in a partial high ponytail not dissimilar to Nie Mingjue’s own style, though a little messier—the “Nie disciple” from the road, the one who had helped Wen Ning to his feet. It seems that Wei Wuxian has guessed quite incorrectly as to his identity, but in his defense, the last time he saw Jin Guangyao, he was still in Jin golds, trying to talk his father down at the first incident at Qiongqi.
Jiang Cheng refuses to even look in his direction, and Wei Wuxian isn’t sure why. Lan Zhan sits next to his uncle, Lan Qiren, and Lan Zhan’s eyes are absolutely fixed on Wei Wuxian.
At the head, on a slightly raised dais, sits Jin Guangshan. His wife is at his side, and Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli sit nearby. Yanli keeps looking over at Jiang Cheng, as if she can use her eyes to get him to do something.
There are plenty of other clan leaders he recognizes, too. Mostly just names—Yao, Ouyang, Qin…too many to think on for long.
The two Jin disciples next to him manhandle him to his knees. Wei Wuxian risks a glance around, and he sees that Jiang Cheng is finally looking at him, and he looks an awful mix of sick and angry. When his eyes find Lan Zhan, he’s stunned to see that while his expression is mostly impassive, his eyes brim with rage.
Wei Wuxian isn’t used to seeing that, to say the least.
“Wei Wuxian,” Jin Guangshan says, coldly, “you stand before the clans accused of multiple murders, including that of Jin Zixun, who had previously declared that he believed you were the cause of the Hundred-Holes Curse he was suffering. Do you deny these charges?”
Wei Wuxian squared his shoulders. Straightens, as best he can against the hands holding him down.
“Categorically,” he says, flatly. “I did not cast the Hundred-Holes Curse. And the people I killed on Qiongqi Road sought to ambush me on my way to my nephew’s full-month banquet. Moreover, I did my best to keep from killing them.”
“And yet, over a hundred Jin disciples are dead,” Jin Guangshan says flatly. “Clearly, your best is not very good. And what of the curse! It’s easily verified, one way or the other—“
“I can personally verify that Wei Ying did not cast the Hundred Holes Curse,” Lan Zhan says.
All Wei Wuxian can think is ‘what.’ Wisely, he does not say it, which is a real victory for him in the field of “keeping his mouth shut when running it would get him into trouble.”
“Oh?” Jin Guangshan sneers. “You make it sound as if you’ve gotten a look at him, Hanguang-jun.” The way he says it drips with contempt.
“Jin-zongzhu,” Xichen says, sharply, clearly prickling at the implied insult to his brother.
“I have,” Lan Zhan says, and if Wei Wuxian hadn’t known better himself, he would believe him, because it’s Hanguang-jun, and he doesn’t lie. “Wei Ying is my husband.”
There’s a series of gasps, a loud “your fucking WHAT?” that definitely comes from Jiang Cheng, and a noise of spluttering fury from Jin Guangshan.
Wei Wuxian straightens up, and turns to look back at Lan Zhan. He cannot believe this. Every gear in his brain has screeched to a halt.
“Wei Wuxian,” Nie Mingjue says, finally, cutting through the crowd with his typical brashness, “is this true?”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, before he can think better of it. “We married in secret, to protect Lan Zhan’s reputation, but—“ It’s a stupid idea. He’s digging the hole Lan Zhan has made for both of them much deeper. “I’m pregnant, so it was likely to come out sooner or later anyway.”
Yanli looks utterly shocked. Jin Guangshan’s mouth hangs open for a long moment, but he closes it, and brings up his fan, snapping it open angrily. It looks much stupider, Wei Wuxian thinks, when he does it, as opposed to when Nie Huaisang does.
“Well. That’s a hell of a surprise to keep for this moment,” Nie Mingjue says.
“Apologies,” Lan Zhan says, smoothly. “We had been discussing when and how to reveal the truth of our union. This was…not how we intended to do it.”
He steps out from behind his table. Moves towards Wei Wuxian. The two Jin disciples jump away, and Wei Wuxian feels a new hand on his shoulder, but it’s gentle. Reassuring.
“However, given the circumstances, I cannot allow judgment to be rendered against my husband without a full investigation. The circumstances of the incident at Qiongqi must be fully turned over, and I wish to know who has framed Wei Ying for the casting of the Hundred Holes Curse.” Lan Zhan’s voice is clear. Confident. Certain. And every time he says ‘my husband,’ a fissure of heat runs through Wei Wuxian.
Apparently, some part of him likes the idea of being married to Lan Zhan. And, if he’s honest, it’s sort of a brilliant play. He’s now married to a Clan Leader—or presumed Clan Leader, at least, he’s not sure how much of the running of things Lan Zhan has taken over just yet—and that means protection. Not just for himself, either.
“And the Wens!” Wei Wuxian pipes up. “Since they’re my people, they’re also my husband’s people, and I think they’d be much safer in Gusu than in the Burial Mounds. I mean, there are children. That’s no place for little ones.”
He wonders if Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue are thinking of little Lan Jingyi—right about the same age as Wen Yuan, if Wei Wuxian thinks about it—growing up somewhere like that. If Jiang Yanli or Jiang Cheng are picturing Jin Ling. If any of the other clan leaders can lower themselves to imagine their own children or grandchildren in such a circumstance.
Probably not. Their arrogance, collectively, knows no bounds.
“And the Wens,” Lan Zhan agrees, easily, “will be under the protection of Gusu Lan Clan.”
Lan Qiren makes a very strange strangled noise, but doesn’t say anything out loud. Wei Wuxian lets himself sag over, leaning his head on Lan Zhan’s thigh—it’s a very nice thigh, he notes distantly—and Lan Zhan’s hand moves from his shoulder to run through his hair, disordered and out of its ribbon. They probably do make the picture of a couple, distressed Omega and protective Alpha, and when Wei Wuxian chances a glance up, Lan Zhan’s eyes are fixed on Jin Guangshan. His expression is all ice-cold challenge, daring Jin Guangshan to publicly accuse a Lan of lying to the entire Discussion Conference.
Jin Guangshan looks like he’s about to qi deviate into next week.
“Fine.” He hisses, coldly. “But I think we also must investigate the circumstances of this…. marriage. It’s quite strange for a clan leader to wed in secret, especially when so many people would have liked to give well-wishes.”
“Considering the circumstances,” Nie Mingjue says dryly, “I can’t exactly fault Wangji for not wanting to be public about this.” Or, in so many words, ‘if I was going to stick my dick in the Yiling Patriarch, I’d be quiet about it too.’ Not an unreasonable position to take, really.
Wei Wuxian has always liked Nie Mingjue. He’s loud, brash, and straightforward. There’s no artifice with him. He has never liked him quite so much as he does in this moment, because whether Nie Mingjue smells bullshit or no—and he’s got a keen nose for it, Wei Wuxian has got to admit—he has clearly decided that he is either 1) feeling extremely helpful towards his brother-in-law, or 2) really invested in his father-in-law having a bad day, or both, and any of those are motivations that Wei Wuxian can appreciate.
“Nie-zongzhu has a point,” one of the leaders of a smaller clan—Tingshan He, Wei Wuxian thinks, and his name is He Su or something?--says, and he is very definitely frowning. “Considering Wei-gongzi’s position, it only makes sense that Lan-zongzhu might prefer a less public ceremony, if the wedding was conducted in haste.”
His eyes flicker to Wei Wuxian’s belly. Wei Wuxian, never one to undersell an act, flinches away and presses closer to Lan Zhan’s leg. If his hands weren’t bound, he would have protectively covered his belly, maybe clung to Lan Zhan’s thigh a little. If they’re doing this, they’re doing this, he’s decided firmly.
“I had hoped,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Wuxian glances up to see that his eyes are entirely on Lan Xichen, who looks, to say the least, deeply upset by the proceedings, “to tell my family, first. Unfortunately, circumstances intervened.” He fixes Jin Guangshan with a flat look, as if to indicate exactly what he means by “circumstances.” “Were Jin Zixun still alive, I would be seeking retribution for his unprovoked attack on my husband. As it stands, I believe that the least Lanling Jin owes Gusu Lan is allowing me to take Wei Ying home, immediately.”
Lan Zhan hasn’t stopped stroking his hair. It feels really, really nice.
“Take him and go,” Jin Guangshan sneers. Lan Zhan finally stops stroking Wei Wuxian’s hair, but it’s so he can draw Bichen and cut free the bindings around his wrists. He resheathes his sword, and helps Wei Wuxian to his feet, then pulls him close against his side.
It feels nice. Held close against Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian realizes that he feels safe, protected—which is not what he would have expected at all. Until yesterday, he really had thought that Lan Zhan had come to hate him—had come to hate what he had become, as the Yiling Patriarch. And yet here Lan Zhan is, lighting his own reputation on fire in order to protect Wei Wuxian.
Lan Zhan scoops him up into a bridal carry, turns on his heel, and heads toward the doors. They open before him with a push of spiritual power, but he pauses before stepping through.
“I expect the Yin Tiger Tally and Chenqing to be delivered to Cloud Recesses,” he says, and his tone brooks no argument. Jin Guangshan turns colors that Wei Wuxian was not aware were possible for human faces to turn, but Jin Zixuan speaks up.
“I’ll deliver them personally, Hanguang-jun,” he says. Lan Zhan nods, and sweeps them out of the room. The doors slam behind them with an air of finality, and Wei Wuxian’s heart jumps.
“Well, Lan Zhan,” he says, softly, “we’re really in it now.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan responds, and he shifts his grip to cradle Wei Wuxian against his chest like something precious. “Come back to Gusu with me,” he says, softly.
It sounds like an offer. Wei Wuxian wonders what might happen if he refuses.
“Okay,” he says, instead, and Lan Zhan turns to press his face, briefly, into Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian thinks he hears his breath hitch, though he can’t guess why. Maybe it’s hitting him that this is real, and he really has dug himself quite a deep hole.
Either way, he shifts his grip, storms out of Golden Carp Tower, and steps onto Bichen.
“Hold on,” he tells Wei Wuxian, who nods. It’s going to be a long flight back to Gusu, and he hasn’t ridden on a sword since he lost his golden core. He should probably be terrified.
…But he’s in Lan Zhan’s arms, and he trusts Lan Zhan.
Bichen lifts into the air, and they’re off.