Work Text:
The first time their swords met on the rooftop, Lan Wangji knew this was no typical student.
They say that when masters spar for the first time, they can tell how good their opponents are within the first move. Wangji would not dare to call himself a master yet, but he felt a startling power and skill behind that first block.
His assumption was soon proven correct. Wangji was the best of his age within the Cloud Recesses, yet the two of them had easily tied without Wei Ying’s sword even leaving its sheath.
Even his brother had remarked on Wei Ying’s abilities. Wangji itched for a rematch.
They exchanged a few moves again by the river after Uncle kicked Wei Ying out of class. But Wei Ying didn’t seem to be in the mood to fight and quickly put his sword away.
It wasn’t until after Wangji tore up that shameless book at the library, that he finally had an excuse to invite Wei Ying to finish the fight that they had started, once and for all.
The two met up at a glade in the back mountain. It was a warm day in high summer. Butterflies fluttered among the wildflowers, and a gentle hum created by the various other creatures—the bush crickets and the grasshoppers alike—permeated the small meadow.
Turned out, physical exertion had no effect on Wei Ying’s incessant chatter. Even after twenty minutes, Wei Ying was still going on endlessly.
“Hey, Lan Zhan, what kind of girls do you like?” Wei Ying asked with a lopsided grin, pressing in with Suibian.
Wangji brought Bichen up just in time to parry.
Yunmeng Jiang Sect’s sword style, true to their origin as rangers, exuded the life and grace of the wilderness. In Wei Ying’s hand, it was even more spontaneous and bold. Fighting with him was like fighting the waves of the sea.
A part of Wangji wished that he could just watch and appreciate its beauty, but Wei Ying’s unconventional moves gave him barely enough time to react and kept him on his feet.
“What’s this? Don’t tell me that you’re such a fuddy-duddy that you’ve never even considered the question.” Wei Ying casually pivoted away from Wangji’s attack and brought his blade around into a sharp right-hand cut. “Come on, tell me, what would she be like?”
Wangji had no desire to answer such an inane question, but an uncooperative voice said in his head: Like you.
Wangji felt heat rushing to his face.
“Pathetic,” He grounded out through gritted teeth. Bichen connected again with Suibian, letting out a chime, clear as a bell.
Wei Ying saw the blush and broke into a large, gleeful smile. It was as dazzling as the sun that lit up the loose strands of his hair and turned them amber.
Wangji caught his breath.
The next instant, Wangji found himself flat on his back, with Wei Ying’s weight on top of him and Suibian held across his neck. The blade felt cool against his skin that was way too warm.
His fall had raised a cloud of dandelions spores. They flew madness about them.
Wei Ying was so close that Wangji could smell the bath soap on him. The standard kind issued to visiting students. And underneath that, the faint scent of clean sweat.
“Ah, cheng rang, cheng rang!” Wei Ying broke the gaze and hopped off him. Wangji immediately felt a loss.
He stuck out a hand to help Wangji up. “Sorry about that, Lan Zhan. Didn’t think you’d actually fall.”
Wangji did not take the offered hand.
He was annoyed at himself for losing. He had not only lost, but lost so thoroughly, and for such a stupid reason. But even more, he was scared by all the other strange things he was feeling.
Better to not risk it. Better to stay far away.
~~~
Wangji avoided Wei Ying for the next few days. Every time Wei Ying bounded up to him, he found an excuse and turned the other way.
Even without seeing Wei Ying, Wangji was often distracted. Uncle kept him back from class the other day and asked him why his calligraphy had suffered, to which Wangji said nothing. He was sent to the library to work on it, as penance.
That was how Wei Ying finally caught him. He sidled up to Wangji and peered at him with a tilted head, a hand propping up his chin.
“Hey, Lan Zhan. Lan er-gonzi. Why have you been avoiding me? You’re not still angry at me for beating you, are you?”
Wangji ignored him.
“I really didn’t mean to make you fall.”
Wangji calmly dipped his brush in the ink and wrote the next character.
“Forget it, forget it. Whatever it is, here, a token of apology.” Wei Ying pulled out a small drawstring pouch from his sleeve and set it on the table. Whatever was inside made a soft clink when it connected with the wooden surface. “I got this at a merchant stall yesterday on the streets. It’s nothing fancy, but I saw the design and thought of you.”
Wangji’s eyes snapped up at that.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“But I want to! Especially if it means you talking to me again, hm?” Wei Ying teased.
Wangji wasn’t sure what to think. He eyed the pouch but didn’t reach for it. After all, Wei Ying didn’t owe him an apology. But he was moved, and a little curious.
Seeing no reaction, Wei Ying stood up and shrugged. “Whatever, keep it if you like, don’t keep it if you don’t. Up to you.
“I should go, though. I promised Jiang Cheng I’d get dinner with him, so I’ll stop bothering you.”
Wangji was about to thank Wei Ying, but the mention of that name put a sour taste in his mouth. He swallowed back the words, brooding.
It wasn’t until after Wei Ying had left that he gave in and opened the pouch. There was a small jade token inside, about two, three fingers width in diameter. Carved in exquisite relief on top were two rabbits playing, their eyes and expressions lively.
Wangji glanced at the doorway of the library, but Wei Ying, of course, was long gone.
He brushed a thumb over the rabbits, and then very, very carefully, tucked the jade token within the folds of his robes.
~~~ Eight years later ~~~
Wangji led A-Yuan down the path toward the back mountain. The only sound was their footsteps and the chirps of birds filtering through the thick bamboo groves.
It was a long way from the creche to where the rabbits lived, especially for one so small. But when A-Yuan had heard about them, he had shyly asked if they could go visit. So here they were.
A-Yuan walked very slowly. Wangji wondered if it was merely due to his small stature or if the child was tired. He had, really, no experience with children.
Wangji bent and held out his arms, thinking to pick him up, but A-Yuan backed out of his reach.
“You do not want me to carry you?” Wangji asked, unexpectedly hurt.
Wangji knew most of the children and junior disciples feared him. He didn’t care, but he did not want A-Yuan to also be afraid of him. The boy he knew from Yiling had no such concerns.
“Auntie Jing said that Hanguang-jun had just recovered from grave injuries, and that I should not tire you.”
Wangji frowned. He knew that the nanny meant well, but was nonetheless mildly displeased by her interference.
“You won’t tire me.” Wangji went ahead and swept the child up in his arms.
He had only recently gotten out of his seclusion. It was true that he still felt generally weak, even if the wounds on his back had finally healed. However, it was not going to stop him from carrying a wispy little thing like A-Yuan.
The two continued to make their way silently down. Having the little bit of Wei Ying alive and breathing in his arms felt comforting in a way he could not describe. When a gust of wind blew and made the surrounding bamboos sway and sing, he instinctively tightened his arms around the child.
A-Yuan let out a delighted gasp when he caught sight of the bunnies. Wangji set him down among the creatures, and a few hopped over to sniff at the boy, who petted them happily.
Wangji watched A-Yuan’s smiling profile and found himself unwittingly searching yet again. He had only seen A-Yuan a few times since he was out, and in the afternoons they had spent together, Wangji kept trying to find traces of Wei Ying in the boy.
But there were none.
Reason told him that it was safer this way. It was safer for A-Yuan that he didn’t remember anything of his past life. Even though Gusu Lan Sect’s teachings preached that children are not at fault for their parents’ sins, the sect had simply suffered too great of a loss in the war. It would be difficult for his people to really accept A-Yuan’s heritage.
But it didn’t stop Wangji from secretly wishing for a look of recognition in A-Yuan's eyes, a phrase of speech, or a gesture, that proved that Wei Ying had not been forgotten.
“Hanguang-jun is sad,” A-Yuan said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. The child scooted over and handed him a bunny, like an offering.
Wangji sat a little straighter, stunned by the child’s perceptiveness. Not even most adults could read his emotions. He accepted the offered gift and smiled faintly. “No matter. If A-Yuan is happy, then I am happy.”
“I’m happy! I like that you play with me.” A-Yuan beamed, no guile in his eyes. “You’re the first adult who plays with me.”
Grief almost drowned him then. And for a moment, Wangji could not speak.
A-Yuan should have something of Wei Ying’s. If not memories, then, at least, something .
Wangji reached behind his neck and unfastened the jade pendant he wore beneath his robes over all these years. He had strung it onto a knotted cord so that he could have it safely on him always.
“A-Yuan, I wish you to have this.”
The child held the pendant gingerly in his hand, almost reverent. “It’s beautiful.”
“It has been very dear to me. It is yours now. Will you keep it on you and take good care of it?”
A-Yuan looked up with large, solemn eyes and promised, “I will.”
~~~ Fourteen years later ~~~
The Liang Manor’s courtyard lacked the usual bustle of its residents and staff, who were under strict orders to stay inside for the night. The junior disciples huddled around the center, making markings on the ground for the formation. An old dagger lay immobile in the middle of it.
The dagger was an old family heirloom passed down over many generations, but it had suddenly come alive and was attacking people in the house. Wei Wuxian and the juniors were on their way home from a night-hunt when they passed by the city and heard about the troubles.
Everyone was exhausted already from the night-hunt, but Sizhui said it didn’t sit right with him to ignore the Liangs’ plea for help.
“Let’s just quickly do this, and we can go home. Is that ok, Wei-qianbei?”
Wei Wuxian agreed, of course.
Being Lan Zhan’s cultivation partner, Wei Wuxian had official status within the Gusu Lan Sect—something Lan Zhan had insisted on. But Wei Wuxian had no desire to lord over the junior disciples. As far as he was concerned, Sizhui was leading the night-hunt. It was Sizhui’s call.
Besides, the juniors were almost of age and really didn’t need Wei Wuxian to supervise, but they adored him and always begged him to come.
Wei Wuxian was more than happy to tag along. He had missed so much of Sizhui’s childhood, any additional time he could spend with the boy—no, the young man now—was very much welcome.
No longer the snot-nosed boy that clung to his leg, Sizhui directed his fellow disciples with grace and confidence.
“Jingyi, would you mind taking the opposite corner, so we can be balanced? And you two, go to the east side. I’ll be the anchor.”
Wei Wuxian leaned on one of the columns on the side and watched him, feeling both proud and wistful.
Even in the last few months, Sizhui’s jawline had lost some of its rounded boyishness. The dramatic lighting from the oil lamps accentuated the outlines of his features, making him appear fully adult.
He had no hand in this, though. It was all Lan Zhan.
His looks, his bearing, his gestures, even the way he waved his qin appear and how he held his hand ready above the strings, all reminded Wei Wuxian of Lan Zhan.
“Wei-qianbei, we are ready,” Sizhui said, nodding to Wei Wuxian.
“Well done!” Wei Wuxian uncrossed his arms and stepped into the circle. “Alright, activate the formation, and I’ll remove the temporary binding.”
The plan was to coax the spirit to rest with Anxi while keeping its violent tendencies suppressed with the formation. And then, eventually, send it onward into its own realm.
Once the temporary binding was off, the dagger floated to midair, glowing faintly.
Sizhui played the first line of Anxi, then one by one, the disciples who knew qin joined in. Wei Wuxian topped it off last with Chenqing. As the soothing melody filled the courtyard, spiritual energy rose and wove between them, ruffling the hems and sleeves of their robes.
The dagger bobbed gently in the air at first and then stilled. Everything was all very normal and going according to plan.
Suddenly, Wei Wuxian felt a shift in the energy of the formation. He swore inwardly. Someone must have lost focus. Somewhere, a corner of it wavered, tilting the balance. Multiple disciples rushed in to stabilize but overcompensated. Within the span of a second, the entire formation collapsed.
The dagger gave a violent shudder and charged straight at Sizhui.
Wei Wuxian’s heart stopped. It all happened so fast. There was simply no time. No time to control it with music. No time to draw a talisman. No time to physically get in front of Sizhui.
Desperate, Wei Wuxian threw out a hand and reached instinctively with demonic cultivation. Drawing on its full power, he seized the resentful spirit inside the blade and forcibly crushed , screaming the command “Down!”
The spirit struggled but was no match to the Yiling Patriarch. It gave a piercing wail and disintegrated. Still, it was just a beat too late. In that same instant, the dagger hit Sizhui’s chest. And then, like a marionette that had its strings cut, it clattered to the floor, lifeless.
Sizhui fell backward.
“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian cried. He started to run to Sizhui, but the backlash from the drastic use of demonic cultivation hit him in full force. The world tipped, and he fell on all fours.
A familiar metallic taste welled up in his mouth. He forced himself to swallow back the mouthful of blood. He was vaguely aware of someone helping him up, but he had only one thought. As his vision blinked in and out, he half staggered, half crawled to Sizhui. “A-Yuan!”
Sizhui sat on the floor in shock, clutching his chest.
Wei Wuxian pushed away Jingyi’s arms, who had beaten him there and was also calling Sizhui’s name. “Let me see, let me see.” With trembling hands, Wei Wuxian uncovered Sizhui’s own from his chest.
But there was no blood.
Had the dagger not hit after all? But Sizhui fell from the impact! And all four layers of Sizhui’s clothes had been cut through. Why was there no wound?
“I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, voice wavering.
Sizhui seemed to have recovered from his shock and looked utterly confused himself. He felt around his chest, and then as if suddenly realizing something, he reached under his inner shirt and pulled out a jade pendant.
“It’s this! The dagger must have hit this, and I guess Wei-qianbei, whatever you did got through in time and the blade didn’t continue...” Sizhui squinted at the pendant. “Oh no! It’s got a crack…”
Wei Wuxian had stopped listening.
That’s...that’s...
Memories from a lifetime ago flashed before his eyes—memories he had long since forgotten.
The swarm of dandelions. The scent of old books. The disdainful turn of his head.
They were just kids then. It was so early. So early. When he still thought Lan Zhan despised him. When getting the tiniest bit of attention from him was a struggle.
But Lan Zhan had kept it after all. And he had given it to Sizhui.
Wei Wuxian let out a sob.
Horrified, Sizhui grabbed Wei Wuxian’s hands. “Wei-qianbei. I’m ok. Really. Please don’t cry.” He tried to catch Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “You stopped it. I’m ok,” he reiterated.
Wei Wuxian pulled Sizhui into his arms and clutched him tightly. “Alright. I won’t cry. Won’t cry.” But his shoulders shook, and tears ran uncontrollably down his face.
~~~
When he heard about what happened, Wangji had one of the worst episodes of post-event panic.
He made both of them sit down in Jingshi. He first checked Sizhui all over to make sure that he was indeed uninjured. Then he brought a thick robe from the bedroom and draped it over Wei Ying, who was pale and weak in qi from the backlash. After that, he went to the kitchenette and returned with a steaming bowl, which he placed in Wei Ying’s hands.
“Ginseng soup. Drink while it’s hot. I’ll ask the main kitchen to send something more substantial.”
“Lan Zhan, please. This is fine.” Wei Ying stopped him, taking his hand. “Why don’t you sit for a while? You’re making me dizzy.” Wei Ying gave him a small, comforting smile.
Wangji complied grudgingly and sat in front of them both. After watching to make sure Wei Ying finished his ginseng soup, he finally began to calm. He breathed out a long, heavy sigh.
“Thank goodness,” he muttered.
“Hanguang-jun, I…” Sizhui said tentatively, expression remorseful. “I’m afraid the jade pendant has a crack. I’m sorry I let it happen. It was my fault for making the decision to take on the task when we’re all so tired. I should have been more careful—”
Wangji shook his head. “It was an accident. The important thing is that you are safe.”
“I’m sorry, nonetheless. It was your first present to me. I really did treasure it.”
“I know,” Wangji said, giving Sizhui a soft look.
“Hanguang-jun, you never said, what is the story of this jade?”
Wangji looked at Wei Ying then. Unlike twenty years ago, this time, Wei Ying didn’t look away.
In that gaze they shared was something boundless that could never be fully said.
Then, to Wangji surprise—as they had always been discreet even in front of Sizhui—Wei Ying leaned forward, and kissed him.
Wangji realized he didn’t mind that Sizhui was there to witness. Nor that the jade token had cracked.
After all, Sizhui was the greatest gift of love from Wei Ying.