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They were back at the Guanyin Temple, with Jin Guangyao trapping Wei Wuxian with a cord at his neck. The red line already drawn across his skin taunted Lan Wangji, demanding that he obey the callous murderer who so casually held his life in his hands. He stepped back when he was told. He sheathed Bichen as instructed. He cut off the connection to his spiritual energy, feeling a weakness seep through him that made his breath catch in his chest.

He did all that Jin Guangyao told him to, because the threat to Wei Wuxian was infinitely more important than his pride or reputation. It didn’t even matter that his own brother was watching him choose Wei Wuxian over the chance of returning with reinforcements to bring Jin Guangyao to justice; all that mattered was that he lived. But his obedience meant nothing when a swift movement from Jin Guangyao had blood flowing freely from Wei Wuxian’s cut throat.

Lan Wangji’s eyes flew wide in horror, and he quickly caught Wei Wuxian as he staggered forward in surprise, hands wrapped around his throat in a fruitless attempt to stem the flow of blood. He carefully lowered them to the ground, cradling Wei Wuxian against him, blind to what the others were doing around them as he moved to immediately start passing his spiritual energy over, only to remember that it was sealed off when nothing came forth.

"Wei Ying," he breathed, his eyes wide with fear. He could not lose him again. He covered Wei Wuxian’s hands over the wound, looking around desperately as his brother knelt beside him. “Xiong Zhang,” he said brokenly, a desperate plea for help dying on his lips as Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled around his and drew his gaze back down.

“Lan Zhan,” he mumbled with difficulty, blood at his lips. His hands were shaking.

Lan Wangji adjusted his hold, trying to make him more comfortable while still securely covering his injury. “It’s alright,” he murmured, distantly registering Jin Guangyao’s laugh in response to his words. “Wei Ying, I—”

Before he could speak the words, Wei Wuxian’s eyes closed, and his body went limp. 

Lan Wangji looked down at him in utter horror. “Wei Ying?” There was no response. He tried to swallow down his panic, the blood pounding in his ears drowning out his brother’s quiet attempts at comforting him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Everything was supposed to work out in the end. Wei Wuxian was supposed to live, and they would return together to the Cloud Recesses before they parted. Wei Wuxian couldn’t possibly be dead.

He lost the fight against the panic, and desperation flooded through him. “Wei Ying.” The broken cry escaped his lips as he folded in half over Wei Wuxian’s body, clutching him to his chest as tears began to fall down his cheeks. “Wei Y—”

Lan Wangji opened his eyes, his heart pounding as he silently gasped in the darkness, Wei Wuxian’s name breaking the silence in the Jingshi. Sweat dampened his brow as he stared out into the room and tried to catch his breath. He replayed the true sequence of events at the Guanyin Temple, reminding himself that Wei Wuxian was alive and well, that he had just received a letter from him less than two weeks before. He was fine.

Unable to fall back asleep despite knowing that it had only been a nightmare, Lan Wangji sat in an uneasy meditation until it was time to prepare for a day of attending his duties as the Chief Cultivator.

The following evening, after enduring an entire day of meetings with various demanding and condescending sect leaders and delegates, Lan Wangji returned to the Jingshi with a tray of food a while after curfew, eager to be able to remove his heavy ornamentation and eat his dinner in silence after having to suffer through the inane chatter of those who believed him unfit for his position. He set the tray on a table and went behind a privacy screen to begin removing the hair pieces that were contributing to his headache. 

As he set the first aside, he heard quiet footsteps entering the Jingshi, and he frowned. Even Lan Xichen and Lan Sizhui would knock before entering, and surely no one else would dare be so brazen as to intrude without asking permission. He picked up Bichen, keeping the sword sheathed but ready as he stepped out from around the screen, only to stop short when he saw who was there.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian was sitting at his table. Here, in the Jingshi. Here, in the Cloud Recesses. He’d been given no warning that Wei Wuxian was planning to return in his last letter. In fact, he had said that he was going to be in Hedong in Lanling, but then, he had only been just over a week’s travel on foot from the Cloud Recesses at the time. He must have wanted to surprise him, and he certainly had. Lan Wangji felt something overwhelmingly soft and fond come over him as he watched the familiar smile start to spread across Wei Wuxian’s face.

He was slouched inappropriately in the way he normally preferred to sit, his legs splayed aside with an elbow propped on one knee, Chenqing and Suibian on the table beside him. He was in the robes that Lan Wangji had had made for him before he had set out on his journey. He looked much the same, if just slightly thinner, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek which Lan Wangji longed to brush away. After he’d been gone for so many months, all he wanted to do was take care of him as he reveled in his presence. Their time together after his resurrection had been so short before they parted, and Lan Wangji could not be more grateful that he had finally decided to return.

Before he realized that he had moved, he found that he was kneeling in front of Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying,” he said again. He managed to gain enough control over his body to stop himself from reaching out for him, but the tips of his ears burned anyway.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, and where Lan Wangji couldn’t, he crossed the space between them. His fingers curled around Lan Wangji’s and squeezed them gently. “I missed you.”

“Missed you,” he echoed mindlessly, still trying to catalogue any differences in Wei Wuxian’s face, in his voice. He looked and sounded exactly as he had imagined him to. “You’re here. Wei Ying.” He turned his hand in a moment of bravery to twine their fingers together, and his heart leapt when Wei Wuxian allowed it.

“I am here, Lan Zhan, and you’re here, and we missed each other." His smile was soft, and his thumb traced over the back of Lan Wangji’s hand. “What do you think we should do about that?”

Lan Wangji swallowed, and he struggled to find a response to that as his heartbeat quickened and the room suddenly felt warmer. It didn’t help that his headache had only worsened, too. He opened his mouth to respond, but Wei Wuxian’s stomach growling broke the silence before he could. Wei Wuxian laughed and tried to wave it off, but Lan Wangji frowned. “You are hungry.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “I’m fine, Lan Zhan. It can wait.”

“Hm.” Lan Wangji gently reclaimed his own hand, studiously ignoring the adorable pout that followed the movement, and began serving Wei Wuxian from his tray of food.

“Lan Zhan, you really don’t have to—”

“Eat. Please,” he urged him quietly, watching contentedly as Wei Wuxian sighed but obeyed, picking up the proffered chopsticks and starting on the meal.

“It could use some flavor,” Wei Wuxian commented after a few bites, making a face.

“I did not expect you. Next time, I will prepare something more to your liking,” Lan Wangji assured him, settling into a proper seat and smoothing out the creases left in his robes.

Wei Wuxian grinned. “My Lan Zhan is too good,” he said, eating in silence for a few minutes when prompted, but then he coughed quietly and rubbed at his throat. He gratefully took the tea that Lan Wangji set before him and drank it, but he kept coughing afterward. “Sorry, I don’t think that’s going down right.” He frowned and sat back from the table, rubbing his chest. 

Lan Wangji had stood from his seat in concern when Wei Wuxian started struggling to breathe, and he knelt back beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Wei Ying?” he murmured, his eyes wide with worry. Wei Wuxian grabbed his hand again, this time in desperation, and Lan Wangji quickly felt for his pulse, measuring the flow of the weak, unformed core as it signalled that something was definitely wrong. He quickly opened his own spiritual pathways and began transferring energy to him.

“Lan Zhan,” he forced out between gasping breaths. “Who made your food? I think… you need to be careful…” He was becoming lightheaded from nearly hyperventilating, and his grip on Lan Wangji weakened slightly.

Lan Wangji shook his head in disbelief, his mind desperately struggling to catch up with the situation. “Poison?” It was just dinner, on a night like any other. Surely it couldn’t be poison. Surely Wei Wuxian couldn’t be dying. “Wei Ying—” He swept Wei Wuxian into his arms when the man began listing to the side, tucking an arm under his knees and around his back as Wei Wuxian’s eyes began to fall shut. “Wei Ying, stay awake,” he ordered tremulously as the gasps grew muffled where Wei Wuxian pressed his face to Lan Wangji’s neck. Fear burned through him like a wildfire as he raced to the healers.

There was a stuttering breath against his skin, and Wei Wuxian’s fingers spasmed where they were curled around Lan Wangji’s robes, and then he was still.

“Wei Ying?” The words tore violently from Lan Wangji’s throat, mired in grief and desperation even as he refused to believe what must be true. His feet would carry him no further, and he sank to his knees, supporting Wei Wuxian against his chest as he felt for a pulse that was no longer there. Wei Wuxian’s eyes were closed, a line of red dripped from his nose to his lips, and his face was slack. Just like that, he was gone.

Lan Wangji barely had a thought to spare on considering that perhaps his dream had been some sort of premonition, the warning to save Wei Wuxian’s life squandered, before he was curled over Wei Wuxian’s body, wet trails running down his cheeks. “Wei Ying,” he murmured brokenly, clinging to him as though his own frantic need for Wei Wuxian to live could somehow bring him back to life.

“Hanguang-Jun?”

He gave no indication that he had heard Lan Jingyi, who must have been assigned to patrol tonight and had been summoned by Lan Wangji’s anguished flight through the Cloud Recesses.

“Hanguang-Jun, are you alright?” Lan Jingyi landed behind Lan Wangji, then walked around to his front. “Han—” He gasped. “Senior Wei! Hanguang-Jun, is he okay?” He dropped to his knees beside them, and still, Lan Wangji couldn’t bring himself to move. Lan Jingyi only grew more concerned in his silence, and after trying a few more times to get a response, not quite brave or foolish enough to attempt to wrest Wei Wuxian from the Chief Cultivator’s arms, he ran off with assurances that he would bring back help.

Lan Wangji forced himself to straighten slightly, allowing him to look at Wei Wuxian’s face. He delicately traced a finger along Wei Wuxian’s jaw, then brought his own sleeve to gently wipe away the blood from his nose before cradling his face in his hand. Dark hair spilled over his arm to just barely brush against the ground, a familiar red ribbon cutting through the shadow. It caught in the breeze, swirling with life in the wind and twisting around Lan Wangji’s arm. He watched its entrancing dance as his fingers continued to caress that face that was so beloved to him, the weight against his chest belying the vivacious presence that Wei Wuxian had been only minutes before. Lan Wangji wanted to scream.

The moon peeked through behind the clouds, shining a mournful spotlight on the macabre scene in which Lan Wangji was an unwilling participant.

The ribbon brushed lightly against his arm again, and then it seemed to begin flaking off into the air, tiny shreds of it pulling away and disintegrating into smoke.

“No,” Lan Wangji said disbelievingly, clutching Wei Wuxian closer as the effect spread to him as well. “No, Wei Ying—” In moments, he was holding nothing, surrounded instead by a small cloud of glittering fog that was quickly stolen away by the wind. “Wei Ying!” He was on his feet, grabbing uselessly for anything that he could touch, but it all slipped through his grasp. Was this an effect of the array that had brought Wei Wuxian back to life? Would Lan Wangji once again not even be left with a body for the sake of a pitiful degree of closure?

Quick footsteps were approaching from behind him, but he made no move to acknowledge them as he stared at the place where the fog had dissipated.

“Wangji?” Lan Xichen was the first to come before him. “Wangji, what’s happened?”

Were he more coherent at the moment, he would have felt guilty for his brother being dragged from his seclusion, but his thoughts were entirely focused on one thing only.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen repeated, a soft frown on his wan face. “Lan Jingyi said that Young Master Wei was here. That he was hurt. There are healers here, if you will bring us to him.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji choked out.

“Yes?” Lan Xichen prompted, growing only more concerned by his unresponsiveness. “Is he in the Jingshi?”

“Wei Ying is dead.”

“Dead?” The elder suddenly looked terrified, and he carefully scrutinized Lan Wangji’s face. “Wangji, don’t do anything rash,” he pleaded immediately.

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure what he’d seen in his expression, but he really didn’t want to know. Nothing mattered now. Wei Wuxian was gone.

Two others were quickly approaching now, disregarding the rule against running, and Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui skidded to a halt before their elders, bowing swiftly and perfunctorily. “Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Sizhui said, out of breath and barely put together enough to be in public. Lan Jingyi must have dragged him out of bed. “Zewu-Jun. Senior Wei?”

Lan Wangji didn’t think anything could have possibly made this night worse, but the look on Lan Sizhui’s face destroyed him. “Sizhui,” he croaked. He cleared his throat, but he found that he couldn’t continue.

“Wangji.” Lan Xichen’s hand was on his shoulder now. “Are you certain of this? Perhaps you were sleepwalking. Young Master Wei was not even in Gusu.”

“Zewu-Jun,” Lan Jingyi said shakily. Lan Sizhui was clinging to his arm. “I saw him.”

“I did not imagine it. Wei Ying was here.” Lan Wangji took a breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure for his son’s sake. “He came to the Jingshi. I served him my food. It was poisoned. Before I could—” Lan Sizhui’s gasp of understanding cut him off, and he bowed his head. “I could not get him help fast enough.”

Lan Sizhui shook his head while Lan Xichen quietly sent one of the other Lan disciples off toward the Jingshi. “No. Senior Wei isn’t… He couldn’t just…”

“I am so sorry, Sizhui.” The words sounded mechanical even to his own ears, but he couldn’t seem to change his tone.

“Where is he?” Lan Sizhui asked in a tiny voice, his eyes welling with tears.

Lan Wangji didn’t have an answer for that. “He… dissipated.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Wangji,” Lan Xichen said gently.

Lan Wangji shrugged helplessly. “His body… faded to smoke, then was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s brow furrowed. “How could this be? Is it something to do with cultivating resentful energy?”

“Xichen,” Lan Wangji said, his bone deep exhaustion pouring through in his words. Discussing why it had happened wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring him back.

He reflected painfully on just how happy he’d been when Wei Wuxian had appeared. How long had he even been there for? Did they even make it five minutes before tragedy struck? Lan Wangji felt a sick darkness when he realized that Wei Wuxian had eaten food that was specifically prepared for him. He was the target, but Wei Wuxian had died in his place. He sank to his knees.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen crouched beside him, taking hold of his arm.

“It’s my fault.”

“No. No, Wangji, it is not. And even if it were, he would not blame you.”

Lan Wangji grabbed at his sleeve, looking for the spot of blood that must have been left when he’d wiped it from Wei Wuxian’s face, desperate just to find some proof that he’d been in his arms, but he couldn’t locate it. He scoured every inch of the fabric, until Lan Xichen asked what he was doing and he tried to explain. Wei Wuxian was gone without a trace.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he was brought back to the Jingshi by his brother. The minutes blurred into hours, and after Lan Wangji had failed to respond to anything that anyone said to him, Lan Xichen and Lan Sizhui had eventually walked him back home.

The tray of food was missing when they got him inside, as were Chenqing and Suibian, and Lan Xichen and Lan Sizhui spent the rest of the night just sitting beside a dumbfounded, grieving Lan Wangji. Lan Xichen despaired at his inability to comfort his brother and nephew.

The morning brought with it a report from the disciple that Lan Xichen had sent off, and he rose to speak to them quietly while Lan Sizhui looked to Lan Wangji.

“Should someone notify Sect Leader Jiang?” he asked in a small voice. “And Jin Ling?”

Lan Wangji slowly opened his eyes, moving for the first time in hours. His gaze slipped for a moment to where Wei Wuxian had sat the previous night before he focused on Lan Sizhui. “I will write to them,” he said slowly, already dreading the task.

Lan Xichen rejoined them, a perplexed look on his face. “Wangji, I had the food tested,” he said slowly. “There was no trace of any kind of poison. The meal should have been fine.”

“That makes no sense,” Lan Wangji said brokenly. “He died.”

“I understand,” Lan Xichen said, though he didn’t sound like he did. “But apparently the healers were baffled enough that after they tested the food beyond a doubt, one even tried it, and she is fine.”

“Then why—” Lan Wangji’s words were choked off. “Then why would he....?”

“Perhaps he was already ill?” Lan Xichen suggested. “By all accounts, Wangji, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Could it be that it wasn’t Senior Wei?” Lan Sizhui asked eagerly. “Perhaps it was a shapeshifting demon of some sort, or a huli jing. Senior Wei could be fine!”

“It was Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, dashing his hopes in an instant. “How he spoke, how he acted, even moved.” He trailed off, then shook his head. “This was no demon, no spirit who stole his form. Sizhui, I know Wei Ying,” he said when Lan Sizhui looked ready to protest again.

The disciple flushed. “Forgive me, Hanguang-Jun. I wasn’t going to say that you didn’t, only that there must be another explanation. Surely Senior Wei wouldn’t just… He couldn’t die so simply like this.”

“If he knew he was ill,” Lan Xichen interjected. “Then perhaps he made his way here to say goodbye, but just found his time cut short.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “He made mention of the food. He told me to be careful of whoever had prepared it.” He lowered his gaze. “He did not come here expecting to die. He would have refused to eat in silence if he had known. He would have taken every moment that he had.” He had to stop speaking as the words came out rough and quavering with emotion, and he heard Lan Sizhui sniffling quietly beside him.

“What could it have been then, Wangji?” Lan Xichen asked helplessly. “If not poison or illness, then a curse? It could explain why the body—” He went silent at a glare from his brother. “I will bring some books back to the Hanshi with me. We’ll figure this out.”

Lan Wangji made no response to that, simply bowing to his brother as he returned to his seclusion. There seemed to be little point to finding out what happened when the results remained the same. It would be like the last year had never happened, and he would return to his endless period of mourning. The grief was familiar, and he tried to convince himself that that made it bearable. He knew how to survive without Wei Wuxian. He’d done it for longer than he had known him alive, and he could survive his death again. But all he had done in the past was follow a routine and do what was expected of him. Outside of moments where he was raising Lan Sizhui, everything largely blended together into a cycle of monotony that lasted well over a decade until that song cut through the air to find him again, and light was breathed back into his life. Now, it was like the color had been stolen from the world again. Wei Wuxian had spirited it away with him, leaving only the white of mourning behind. Lan Wangji looked down at his pale blue robes, the color he had started wearing once the need to mourn was gone, and absently registered that he would need to return to his old wardrobe.

“Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Sizhui said tentatively, drawing him from his contemplation.

“Yes, Sizhui?”

He shifted on his feet. “Is there truly no way that it might have been a spirit manifesting itself as Senior Wei? If they observed him beforehand, they might have been able to adopt his mannerisms enough to convince—”

“I would not be fooled, Sizhui.” He had replayed their short exchange in his mind a thousand times over. It was exactly the Wei Wuxian of his memory. No creature could have so thoroughly replicated him enough to convince Lan Wangji that they were him.

“I wasn’t trying to imply that you don’t know him best, Hanguang-Jun, I just…” he trailed off, blinking away a tear.

Lan Wangji sighed heavily. “Sizhui.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

The tears welling in Lan Sizhui’s eyes spilled over, and he nodded shakily. “Oh.” He bit his lip. “I—I’ll take my leave now, Hanguang-Jun.” He dropped into an unsteady bow. “Please excuse me.”

“Sizhui, if you need to skip your classes today—”

“I would appreciate the distraction, actually,” he said quickly, still in a bow. 

Lan Wangji pulled him upright. “If you need me at all, Sizhui, please come back. I will be here for you.”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “I know you will. Thank you.”

“There is no need for you to thank me.” He squeezed Lan Sizhui’s shoulder for a moment. “Go on.”

“Yes, Hanguang-Jun.” Lan Sizhui gave him a weak, watery smile before leaving the Jingshi.

Lan Wangji was then left alone, the silence of his quarters suddenly too oppressive to bear. Just last night, for the shortest moment, they had been so undeniably full of life and love. Now, there was nothing. 

He drew in a long breath, trying once again to force himself to be calm and steady. Regardless of what he had endured, he would still be expected to behave as the Chief Cultivator. He would not be able to simply eschew his duties when there were still people depending on him. So, he prepared himself in a haze, then passed the day in distraction, every glimpse of a dark robe or the sound of distant laugh catching his attention and cruelly getting his hopes up. His head was throbbing by the end of his last meeting, when he was handed several letters by a disciple before heading back to the Jingshi.

Several were official business for the Chief Cultivator, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw writing on the last. He would recognize that hand anywhere, and there wasn’t anyone else who would be brazen enough to call him by his birth name anyway. “Wei Ying,” he murmured, reverently smoothing his fingers over the surface of the letter before setting the others aside and unfolding it. 

Hi Lan Zhan!

You’re probably tired of hearing from me already, but you might be getting some guests soon because of me, so I thought I’d send you a warning. Guess who I just ran into in Hedong! Jin Ling was passing through with some of the Jin Sect disciples, so I’m spending these days in good company. Anyway, I may have invited Jin Ling to the Cloud Recesses on Sizhui’s behalf. Sorry for overstepping! My nephew is prickly and needs friends, though, and he seems fond of Sizhui. Like anyone wouldn’t be—he’s the best! But I’m just letting you know, because who knows if Jin Ling will think to say anything before he turns up in Gusu. It might not be for a while though, because he’s invited me back to Koi Tower with him after we finish his night hunt. Let’s see if this ends up better than last time, right?

How are you doing, Lan Zhan? I know you must be so busy as Chief Cultivator. I can’t believe that you have to deal with people like Sect Leader Yao every single day. I wouldn’t be able to do it, but I hear that you’ve been doing an amazing job. Everyone respects you so much, even in Lanling where they can be so stuck up sometimes! Your character is truly beyond reproach, Hanguang-Jun. Ah, but you already know that. 

Anyway, Lan Zhan, if you wanted to, if you have time, you could write back to me at Koi Tower. I’ll be there long enough for a reply to arrive. If you don’t want to, that’s fine! I know you must be so busy, way too busy for writing letters to me! I’ll understand completely, so please don’t feel obligated in any way. 

I hope that you’re all doing well, Lan Zhan. Please give my best to A-Yuan.

Yours,

Wei Wuxian

Lan Wangji’s fingers were trembling, and he couldn’t look up from the paper until a drop of water smudged part of a sentence and he jerked back, carefully setting the letter down on the table before him so that he didn’t wrinkle it any further than he already had by unintentionally clutching it so tightly.

Lan Wangji struggled to reconcile what he had read with what he knew. If Wei Wuxian really had been in Hedong when he sent this, then there was no way that he could have gotten to Gusu fast enough to be in the Jingshi the previous night. But it had definitely been him here, and at the same time, the letter was undoubtedly written in Wei Wuxian’s sprawling calligraphy, using his own words. The evidence was irreconcilable, and yet it gave Lan Wangji the smallest spark of hope. There was just the slightest chance that Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually dead.

He ignored the rest of the letters and left for the Hanshi, barely remembering to wait for permission before entering.

“Wangji.” Lan Xichen looked up from where he was sitting. He gave his brother a pitying smile. “How are you?”

“I received a letter from Wei Ying,” he said quickly, the letter quivering in his trembling grasp. “Somehow, Sizhui must have been right. It truly must not have been him.”

Lan Xichen’s eyebrows drew together, but he nodded slowly. “I had been coming to the same conclusion myself. Here,” he said, shifting the scrolls and books that were on the table so that Lan Wangji could more easily see the spread of information. “I spent the day researching why the body would disappear in such a manner as you described, and I came upon this curse.” He looked overwhelmingly concerned as he pointed out the section he was referring to. Lan Wangji tamped down his staggering relief and followed where his brother indicated. “The Curse of the Grave, known among many common people as the Death of the Waking Nightmare. It seems to fit, Wangji. The person affected will see their worst nightmare played out in front of them before all evidence is stolen away in the wind.” He clasped his shaking hands together. “You believed him to be Young Master Wei because he was drawn from your mind, from your memories and your hopes. He could not be anything but what you expected.”

“Then he is alive.” Lan Wangji felt the crushing weight of uncertainty leave him in one fell swoop, and he reverently cradled the letter to his chest.

“I believe so, Wangji, but this curse is dangerous. There is no record of any cure being discovered.”

“But Wei Ying is alive. You do think that this must have been what affected me.”

“Yes, Wangji, but you seem to be willfully ignoring my point. This curse ends in death. It takes your spiritual energy to manifest the nightmare, which is likely why Lan Jingyi was able to see Young Master Wei and why you could touch him. It stole enough of your core to become tangible. It will continue happening until you go into qi deviation and die.” He grabbed Lan Wangji’s arm. “I beg you to take this seriously, Wangji. Young Master Wei may be well, but you are not.”

“I understand,” Lan Wangji said slowly. He recounted his last few days, wondering when a curse could have been placed on him. It must have been at least a day before Wei Wuxian’s likeness appeared before him, because he could hardly discount the previous evening’s nightmare as a coincidence at this point. He had assisted Lan Sizhui and some other juniors on a night hunt the day before that, but he could not recall anything strange happening during it. There had been a yaoguai that had been difficult to fight, but it was not the sort of creature capable of bestowing curses, and they had defeated it anyway. There must have been something else that they had missed. “Do you have any estimate for how long I would have to solve this?”

“Let me see,” Lan Xichen said, reaching out to feel Lan Wangji’s pulse and trace his spiritual pathways. The furrow in his brow deepened, and he opened his eyes. “Wangji, take stock of your spiritual energy. How did you not notice it depleting so much?”

Lan Wangji almost shrugged. “I thought it to be the result of grief.”

Lan Xichen sighed deeply. “The difference is certainly noticeable. If I had to estimate, I would say that you could only survive perhaps four more apparitions. I need to get to work on finding a cure right now.”

“Only you?”

“You need to find Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Wangji tipped his head slightly. “I had planned to anyway, but why?”

“If this is what is happening to you, then the only notes I can find on even delaying the inevitable end would be having the object of your nightmare within sight. It seems that if the real Wei Wuxian is with you, then he can stave off the apparitions, giving us more time to figure this out.”

“I will go to him promptly, Xiong Zhang,” Lan Wangji said, bowing low.

Lan Xichen shook his head tiredly. “I’m sure you will. Get him and bring him back here as quickly as you can.” The smallest smile touched his lips. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this order more than any I’ve ever given you, but Wangji, make sure to never let him out of your sight.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Do you know where he is?”

“Koi Tower, in Lanling.”

Lan Xichen nodded. “Take Sizhui with you. Perhaps Lan Jingyi, as well. I’ll write to Uncle to explain the situation for you. He still won’t be back for a few days.”

“Thank you for all of this, Xiong Zhang,” Lan Wangji said quietly. “Your support… it means a great deal.”

Lan Xichen smiled graciously, though the heavy weight of their new knowledge still threatened to drag him down. He had thought he would lose his brother to grief, but now he might only have days before it was death that claimed him instead. “I will always help you, Wangji.” He squeezed his brother’s arm.

Lan Wangji’s reply was cut off by a shuffling noise outside of the door, then a thud against it. The brothers looked to each other quickly then took hold of their swords.

“Who is there?” Lan Xichen called.

“Lan Zhan,” came the weak, pleading response, and Lan Wangji went pale at the voice and raced to the door, pushing it aside and dropping to his knees beside Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying,” he breathed. Wei Wuxian offered him a red-toothed smile in return, the front of his robes already torn and wet with blood, and Lan Wangji’s eyes went wide with fear. “Wei Ying—”

“It seems we were right,” Lan Xichen said, sounding strangled. Already they had lost more time to this curse. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby. “Wangji, let’s go back inside.”

Lan Wangji gathered Wei Wuxian into his arms, quietly apologizing as Wei Wuxian whimpered and curled his fingers in his white robes. Lan Xichen slid the doors shut behind them, turning to find Lan Wangji already laying Wei Wuxian out on his bed and methodically removing his robes to get to the wound.

“Wei Ying, what happened?” he murmured, panic alight in his eyes.

“What do you mean, Lan Zhan?” he coughed, bringing blood to his lips. “Anyone in the world would take the chance to get rid of the Yiling Patriarch if they could. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” His trembling fingers went to Lan Wangji’s cheek, leaving a grim red trail over porcelain skin. “I’m always fine, Lan Zhan.”

“You are not,” Lan Wangji choked out, pushing his robes aside and locating what appeared to be several stab wounds in his abdomen. He let out a shaky exhale and immediately moved to start transferring spiritual energy to him, but Lan Xichen caught his wrist and held him back. “Xichen—”

“It’s not him, Wangji,” Lan Xichen said solemnly, unable to hold his brother’s attention when Wei Wuxian’s quiet pleas drew his gaze back. “You’ll only decrease what time we have if you offer more of your energy to this curse.”

“What if this time is real, though?” he asked desperately, wrenching his hand away.

“Then allow me to do it, Wangji,” he offered, immediately kneeling beside the bed and taking Wei Wuxian’s wrist to pass him spiritual energy.

Lan Wangji nodded, still unsteady, and went about bandaging the wounds. “Wei Ying, why are you not in Lanling?”

He groaned quietly, keeping a tight hold on Lan Wangji’s sleeve as he worked. “I left right after I sent the letter. I left Little Apple with Jin Ling to get here faster. Sorry for the surprise,” he panted.

Lan Wangji shot his brother a panicked look, but Lan Xichen remained steadfast. “Wangji, he knows everything you know. This is not confirmation that it’s really him.”

“Really me?” Wei Wuxian gasped for a breath, blood painting his chin. “Zewu-Jun, what do you mean?”

“It’s fine, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji soothed him quietly, his hand going to cup Wei Wuxian’s cheek. His thumb smoothed over his cheekbones as a tear ran down his own cheek. Wei Wuxian reached up to brush it away, leaving another streak of blood on Lan Wangji’s face. “Just… focus on healing.”

“Lan Zhan is too perfect to cry,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, his hand falling back to his side. “You shouldn’t cry over me. ‘m not worth it.” His eyes fluttered closed, and he didn’t seem able to gather enough energy to force them back open. He just turned his head weakly into Lan Wangji’s touch and sighed heavily.

“Wei Ying, hold on,” he begged. “Stay.”

The corner of Wei Wuxian’s lips turned up just slightly. “Where else would I go when this is where you are, my Lan Zhan?” he breathed. The smile slipped from his lips.

Lan Wangji blinked away tears and turned to his brother. “Xiong Zhang—”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen cut him off, slowly setting Wei Wuxian’s hand on the bed, meeting Lan Wangji’s terrified gaze. “It’s over.”

Lan Wangji stared at him with an agonized lack of understanding before grabbing Wei Wuxian’s hand and feeling his pulse for himself. He found nothing. “No.” The word tore from his throat, and his grip on Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened. “I can’t… Wei Ying.” He stared down at the body, unmoving.

Lan Xichen watched him pityingly for a moment then stood, going to his door and calling over the first disciple that passed and instructing them to send Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi to the Hanshi ready to travel. He then returned to his brother’s side, standing as an unwilling witness to his grief.

Minutes passed in silence, offering enough time for Lan Xichen to worry that this had in fact been the real Wei Wuxian, before the same strange effect that had claimed him the previous night took him yet again, any evidence disappearing out of the open window. Even the blood on Lan Wangji’s face fled with the body, leaving nothing behind.

Lan Wangji was quiet, just sitting with his eyes closed for several minutes until there was a tentative knock on the Hanshi’s door. Lan Xichen answered it and returned with Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi behind him.

“Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Sizhui said quietly, drawing Lan Wangji’s attention.

“Sizhui,” he said. He swallowed and pushed himself to his feet, almost staggering when he realized how suddenly drained he felt. Not yet taking stock of his own core, he wondered how much of that could be attributed to the curse and how much was just emotional exhaustion.

“Wangji will explain the situation on your way,” Lan Xichen said, clasping his hands behind his back. “But I need you two to accompany him to Lanling immediately. There is no time to waste.” He turned to Lan Wangji, who looked worryingly unsteady. “I didn’t expect to have our suspicions confirmed so quickly. Wangji, you must leave now. If you fly fast, you may make it in well under two days. If this happens each night…” He shook his head. “I will handle everything here. Go.”

Lan Wangji made no protest. He simply bowed to his brother and headed straight for the door. It was still a couple hours before curfew. They could make it a decent distance before resting, then hopefully arrive at Koi Tower before nightfall the next day.

The juniors trailed after him in confusion, but they were silent and obedient as they took to their swords behind Lan Wangji and sped through the sky. The hours passed quickly, and Lan Wangji grew somewhat frustrated at having to pace himself so that he wouldn’t leave the disciples behind. He knew Lan Xichen was only concerned about him going alone, but he would have been able to make the journey faster by himself.

He eventually had them land by a small town to request rooms at an inn for the night. It was late enough that the innkeeper didn’t seem to be eager to make food, but he looked over their attire and apparently deemed their status enough to warrant decent pay for his troubles. 

While they waited for their food around the small table, Lan Wangji took the chance to explain the situation, though he left out the fact that there was no known cure for his curse.

“So Senior Wei is alive?” Lan Sizhui said happily, his eyes bright. “He’s alright?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji nodded, something softening in him at his son’s relief.

Their food arrived then, and they ate in silence then retired to their rooms. In the morning, their breakfast was prepared early as Lan Wangji had requested the previous night, and they were well on their way by six o’clock. The day flew by, lost to their fast paced trip, and neither of the younger Lan Sect members complained despite the weariness they must have been feeling.

When the sun began its descent, they heard a cry from the forest below, and Lan Wangji stopped abruptly, closing his eyes for a moment. He had so hoped that he could make it to Wei Wuxian before this happened again.

“Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Jingyi called.

“Come,” he said, before flying down to a clearing below and dismounting Bichen. The juniors landed behind him and followed him into the trees. It was only a minute before he located the source of the sound. “Wei Ying,” he murmured brokenly. This time, now that he was paying attention to it, he could feel the distinct drain on his spiritual energy. Still, when he saw Wei Wuxian weakly hanging off of a tree trunk, trying futilely to support his own weight, he couldn’t help but go to him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, his eyes widening in surprise but then settling into something warm. “Lan Zhan, what are you doing here?” He staggered forward, barely making it two steps before falling into Lan Wangji’s waiting arms. “Ah, Hanguang-Jun, I never would’ve expected you to turn up here just when I need you.” He stumbled even with Lan Wangji’s help, and they both sank to the ground. Lan Wangji propped him up against a tree, the scene feeling far too similar to when they had fled Koi Tower together.

Lan Wangji looked him over for injuries, but aside from some small cuts and bruises, he looked to be alright. That didn’t mean there was nothing hiding under his robes, though, and his suspicions were confirmed when Wei Wuxian coughed and spat out blood. “Wei Ying,” he breathed, unable to convince his traitor heart that this wasn’t real and feeling the fear seep through his blood.

“Ah, it’s nothing, Lan Zhan,” he wheezed, waving a hand flippantly. “Those fierce corpses were just really strong. A couple of them got in a few good punches before I could handle them.” A shaking hand went to his chest, and he winced. 

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi caught up to them then, and both gasped and ran to drop beside Wei Wuxian. “Senior Wei!” they chorused, matching expressions of panic on their faces despite Lan Wangji having explained the situation. 

Wei Wuxian smiled, reaching up to pat Lan Sizhui’s cheek. “Sizhui, Jingyi,” he said quietly, with an undercurrent of delight. 

“Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui stammered. “What are you doing out here? Are you hurt?”

“It will be fine, Sizhui,” Lan Wangji said quietly, leveling him with a pointed look that seemed to prompt Lan Sizhui’s understanding, but he, like Lan Wangji, still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was real.

“Yes, listen to Hanguang-Jun, A-Yuan. Everything will be alright.” Wei Wuxian took one of Lan Sizhui’s hands in his and squeezed it gently before promptly having a coughing fit. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he mumbled. He tipped forward, dropping his head against Lan Wangji’s chest. “Lan Zhan, just hold onto me for a minute, will you? I’ll get up in a second. I just need to rest.” His words were coming slower and slower, growing gradually more slurred, and Lan Wangji brought a hand up to hold the back of his neck, forcing down the urge to cry. “Just for a minute, Lan Zhan.” He coughed again, the sound grating and awful. 

Lan Wangji flinched, then held him closer, making sure he was supporting him without hurting him further. “Rest as long as you need to, Wei Ying,” he murmured, stroking his fingers through his hair.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers twitched in Lan Sizhui’s, and the younger man held his hand close, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched helplessly.

Wei Wuxian hummed quietly, and he sank further into Lan Wangji’s embrace. “Feels nice, Lan Zhan,” he breathed. He shifted and let out a quiet whimper.

Lan Wangji’s breath hitched. “It’s alright, Wei Ying.” He continued trying to soothe Wei Wuxian with his fingers until the breathing against his skin slowed, then stopped entirely. He exhaled hopelessly, shifting the body to the ground, leaving his head cushioned on his lap. 

Lan Sizhui was still clinging to his hand, his cheeks wet. “Father,” he choked out, looking to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji froze. Lan Sizhui only called him that in company when he was truly distressed. He took one hand from Wei Wuxian’s body and brought it to Lan Sizhui’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “He is alive and well at Koi Tower. We will see him likely within the hour,” he said, forcing the despair from his tone. Lan Sizhui nodded shakily, but his eyes darted back to the corpse bearing the likeness of the man who had been his second father. Lan Wangji got to his feet, pulling Wei Wuxian up into his arms. The minutes it would take waiting here for him to disappear would be better spent being put toward finishing their journey, but he couldn’t just leave him behind. He stepped up onto Bichen, and the junior disciples followed after him, Lan Jingyi still uncharacteristically speechless. “We are not far now,” he said to reassure them, and they set out.

It was only a few more minutes of flying later that the wind caught Wei Wuxian and took him away. Lan Wangji could hear the twin gasps behind him, but he did not slow, only adjusting his stance for the lost weight and carrying onward. The drag from the missing spiritual energy was truly beginning to have an effect, and Lan Wangji spared a moment to be grateful that Wei Wuxian was not any farther away than Lanling. He wasn’t sure that he could continue to push so hard through a longer journey.

“There it is!” Lan Jingyi called as the Koi Tower came into view in the distance, and they all steered right up to it, landing atop the steps. Several Jin Sect disciples ran around at their arrival, some presumably going to alert their sect leader that the Chief Cultivator had made an impromptu appearance.

The sun had set behind them, leaving the encroaching dark of night as their backdrop as they were escorted inside to where the Jin Sect was apparently having dinner.

Lan Wangji remained perfectly composed as they entered the room that was mostly empty, with only a few disciples dining with their sect leader, but the moment that he saw Wei Wuxian sitting beside Jin Ling and happily chatting with him, relief swelled in his chest, and he had to stop himself from running to his side. The last few days had taken such a toll on him, but he truly had not realized how much until the pain and grief were suddenly alleviated. “Wei Ying,” he breathed, ignoring the Jin Sect disciples who were talking about preparing rooms and offering baths and tea.

Like he had heard his name whispered from across the room, Wei Wuxian looked up, the remnants of his laughter still shining on his face. He froze when he saw Lan Wangji, tipping his head to the side in endearing confusion before a smile lit his face and he leapt to his feet. “Lan Zhan!”

Jin Ling looked up at that, then quickly got to his feet and bowed to Lan Wangji, the rest of the room following suit. Lan Wangji forced himself to acknowledge them properly before his gaze zeroed back in on Wei Wuxian, who had blatantly ignored propriety and run straight to him, stopping only a couple feet away and grinning brightly.

“What are you doing here? I really didn’t expect to see you! And you brought Sizhui and Jingyi, too!”

The two Lan Sect disciples were watching him with a perplexing mix of bafflement and relief, as though they weren’t quite sure that this was the real Wei Wuxian either but they were happy to see him nonetheless. 

Wei Wuxian’s smile slid off of his face at the lack of reaction from any of them, and he looked around in confusion, ignoring Jin Ling’s hissed admonishments of his behavior. “Is something wrong?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji finally managed to say, the words caught in his throat. “I…” How he longed to reach out to him. It was taking every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from pulling Wei Wuxian into his arms in full view of the Jin Sect disciples.

Wei Wuxian bit his lip, then stepped back and gestured to the table. “Do you want something to eat? We were finishing now, but there’s still food. And I’m sure Jin Ling won’t mind having something made up for you. Is it only the three of you here?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. “Could I… speak to you in private?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, of course. Uh, Sizhui! Jingyi!” He grabbed their wrists and pulled them along to where Jin Ling was sitting, prodding them into the space he had just vacated. “How perfect is this? My three favorite juniors all get to spend some time together.” Jin Ling acted like he took offense to that, but he looked privately pleased. Lan Jingyi just grinned, seeming to have accepted that this Wei Wuxian wasn’t going to drop dead in front of him and choosing instead to appreciate how he’d been claimed as one of the elder’s favorites. Lan Sizhui had trouble letting Wei Wuxian go, though, and Wei Wuxian’s face softened when his fingers wrapped around his wrist as he pulled away. “A-Yuan,” he murmured, keeping his voice low enough that the others nearby couldn’t hear. “I’m just going to talk to your Hanguang-Jun. I’ll come back and see you soon, alright?”

“Promise?” Lan Sizhui asked in a moment of weakness.

Wei Wuxian shook his head and gently extricated himself from Lan Sizhui’s grasp. “Silly boy. Of course, I promise.” He left him with a soft smile before returning to Lan Wangji’s side. “Alright, Lan Zhan,” he said, turning and saluting Jin Ling almost as an afterthought and then leading Lan Wangji out into the night. They came to a familiar outlook point, stilling and leaving the evening’s breeze to caress them as Lan Wangji’s eyes remained glued to Wei Wuxian. “Are you alright? What is it?” Wei Wuxian asked, tilting his head. He looked nervous. 

Lan Wangji supposed he had given him no reason not to be, but he was too lost in relief to attempt proper reassurance. “Wei Ying,” he said, the words coming unbidden from his lips. He could not seem to say anything else.

Wei Wuxian’s brow furrowed, a line of worry appearing. “Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”

Tentatively, Lan Wangji reached out, wrapping gentle fingers around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, privately pleased when he was allowed to do so without question or resistance. There had once been a time when Wei Wuxian had hidden himself from him. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, monitoring the small but steady flow of yang energy coursing through Wei Wuxian that definitely had not come as a manifestation of Lan Wangji’s stolen core. He let out a low sigh and lowered their hands, though he still kept his loose hold on Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying,” he repeated, meeting his warm, concerned gaze. “You are well?”

His confusion only seemed to grow. “I’m fine. Better than fine, really, now that I can live off the Jin Sect for a bit.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji nodded, pleased. Wei Wuxian should always be spoiled. It was time that others realized this. 

“Lan Zhan, what is this about?” Wei Wuxian asked softly. He still made no move to reclaim his hand. “Surely you didn’t fly all the way here just to see me.” There was a timid uncertainty to his tone that was underwritten with something dangerously nearing hope. 

“I did,” Lan Wangji said, hoping the darkness covered what must surely be red ears, given how they were burning. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and he quickly forced himself to explain. “I have been cursed.”

Anything other than grave concern promptly fled from Wei Wuxian’s expression, and he twisted his hand in Lan Wangji’s grasp, switching their positions and monitoring Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy. His eyes flew to Lan Wangji’s, a deep terror burning in them. “Lan Zhan,” he breathed, his grip tightening. “What is it? How do we fix it? You—You needed my help, right?”

“Wei Ying, be calm,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “There is time.”

“Time. Time before you die, you mean.” Wei Wuxian dropped his hand and stepped back, tight fists at his sides.

“Time to solve it.”

Wei Wuxian looked up at him, his expression twisting into something hopeful. “You do know the cure, then? You just needed help?”

“The cure… is not known,” Lan Wangji answered, and he detested himself when Wei Wuxian deflated at his words. “But there is a temporary remedy to give us more time to find one.”

“What is it?”

“Let me explain, first. I already have it.” He paused, marveling in that statement. After nearly a year away, he had Wei Wuxian back before him. “This curse siphons my spiritual energy to manifest my worst nightmare before me. After it plays out, it vanishes, taking that portion of my core with it. It will eventually deplete.”

“Sending you into qi deviation,” Wei Wuxian said quietly, horrified. “It’ll kill you.”

Lan Wangji nodded. “If we do not find a cure, yes. But to stave off the effects, I need only to have the subject of my nightmare before me at all times. Supposedly, the nightmare cannot manifest itself then.”

“So what is it, then?” Wei Wuxian asked. “We have to buy as much time as we can, Lan Zhan. What the hell scares Hanguang-Jun? What’s the subject of your nightmares?”

Drawing in a deep breath, forcing away any embarrassment at the admission, Lan Wangji spoke. “You.”

Wei Wuxian’s face shuttered, and his gaze dropped. “Oh.” When he looked back up, there was a fake smile plastered in place, one that Lan Wangji had seen far too many times before. It was one that said he was hurt, but he would hide it for the sake of others. “Of course.” He swallowed. “Well, at least I can do this one thing for you, then. I’ll stay right by your side until this is over, Hanguang-Jun. We’ll figure it out and remove your curse. I promise.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, not having expected quite that reaction, but while it wasn’t an outright rejection, Wei Wuxian certainly didn’t seem happy. At least he had agreed to help—not that Lan Wangji had doubted he would. He was an honorable man and would do the same for anyone who had found themselves in this situation. “Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian laughed bitterly. “You don’t need to thank me, Lan Zhan.” His fingers curled restlessly at his sides. “So what do you need me to do?”

“I just… must be able to see you. At all times,” Lan Wangji said, flushing slightly at the implications therein.

“You’ve got it, Lan Zhan. I won’t let you down,” Wei Wuxian vowed.

“You never could.”

Wei Wuxian faltered at that, then regained his composure. “So, do you want to have dinner? You should really replenish your energy, if it’s being stolen like this.”

“Alright,” Lan Wangji said, and he followed Wei Wuxian back the way they had come. They reentered the dining hall, Lan Sizhui looking up at their entrance and relaxing into his seat, smiling widely at Wei Wuxian, who returned a more muted smile of his own as he settled into a seat beside Lan Wangji and set to serving him himself.

Wei Wuxian questioned him after the meal was complete, gleaning everything that Lan Wangji had learned from his brother back in the Cloud Recesses. He then got to his feet. “You just need to see me, right? So I can go over there and it’ll be alright?”

Lan Wangji nodded, then watched Wei Wuxian run over to Jin Ling and converse with him for a few minutes before patting him on the head and darting away back to Lan Wangji’s side.

“Jin Ling said we can take whatever books we need from the Jin Sect’s collection. Come on, we can check there before it’s your bedtime.”

Lan Wangji stood and easily followed Wei Wuxian, leaving Lan Sizhui with a nod and the instruction to be prepared to leave early in the morning. They then spent the next hours perusing the Jin Sect library, which was admittedly disappointingly small compared to that of the Lan Sect, but they still found several books on rare curses that looked promising and could prove helpful. They gathered them and left for the room that had been quickly prepared for Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian immediately settled at the little table in the room, spreading the texts out before him and immediately delving into one with a look of intense concentration while Lan Wangji found himself frozen in place, only watching him fondly. How he had missed him. He then felt himself blushing furiously when he realized that letting Wei Wuxian out of his sight for a moment would invite another apparition, but he had hoped to bathe away his rigorous travels. He would resign himself to going without, but then he considered how it would work when he slept as well. His eyes would close, and Wei Wuxian would no longer stymie the curse despite being in the room with him still.

He cleared his throat quietly. “Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian looked up from the first book. “Yes?”

“Would you…” He pressed his lips together, wondering how he could even phrase the request.

Wei Wuxian looked concerned, and he stood up. “What is it? Are you hurting? Did something happen?”

“No,” he said quickly. He was starting to struggle to keep his eyes open, and after pushing so hard in his travels, he didn’t think he would manage to stay awake much longer, as it was already past nine. “If I sleep,” he began, unable to continue. He cursed himself for succumbing to embarrassment, cursed his upbringing for instilling such extreme modesty that he could not even ask for what he needed to have the best chance at survival.

Understanding flashed in Wei Wuxian’s eyes immediately, and Lan Wangji loved him all the more, despite not believing he could possibly love him any more deeply than he already did. “You won’t see me,” he finished, and Lan Wangji nodded. “Do you think…” He bit his lip. “Would holding onto me do the job? You’ll still know it's me.”

“I believe so,” Lan Wangji said quietly.

“Okay.” Wei Wuxian kicked off his shoes and picked up two of the books, bringing them over to the bed. He sat on the floor next to it, leaving his hand on the bed and waiting for Lan Wangji, who merely watched him silently. “Go ahead, Lan Zhan. It’s after nine.”

Lan Wangji shook his head and removed his own shoes, then, after a moment’s hesitation, his outer robes and headpiece. Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows raised as Lan Wangji crossed over to him and gracefully got into the bed. “There is no need to sit on the floor, Wei Ying,” he said, facing Wei Wuxian, who looked hesitant. “Please.”

Wei Wuxian sighed and drew himself up beside Lan Wangji, sitting up with the books on his lap and holding his palm up expectantly to Lan Wangji, who tentatively took his hand. “Sleep well, Lan Zhan,” he said quietly.

“Make sure that you rest too, Wei Ying,” he said, considering the texts that had joined them in bed.

“Don’t worry about me, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian waved his concern off, but his face was soft when he looked down at Lan Wangji. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji intertwined their fingers, watching Wei Wuxian for any discomfort and finding none before letting his eyes slide closed. With the combined exhaustion of grief, travel, and the depletion of his core, it was only moments before he fell asleep. 

Wei Wuxian joined him hours later, both texts read and discarded on the floor in frustration at their uselessness before Wei Wuxian dropped onto the pillow and watched Lan Wangji breathe peacefully for several minutes until the steady presence lulled him to sleep.

Lan Wangji woke before the sun, startled out of the memory of Wei Wuxian slipping from his blood soaked hands to fall to his death at the base of the cliff in the Nightless City. Unlike when he normally woke from these nightmares, however, his eyes opened to the sight of Wei Wuxian sleeping beside him, alive and well. His fingers were still entwined with Wei Wuxian’s, and the other man was cradling their hands to his chest, his other hand keeping them close. Lan Wangji was overwhelmed by the softness and intimacy of the moment, and he could not hold himself back from brushing a stray lock of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, baring his face. He then sighed and was about to leave the bed before he remembered how counterproductive it would be to do that without Wei Wuxian, and he guiltily settled back down into the comfort. The movement disturbed Wei Wuxian, however, and his eyes blearily blinked open moments later.

“Lan Zhan?” He yawned, then recalled the situation. “Lan Zhan, you should’ve woken me sooner!”

“I only just woke myself,” Lan Wangji said, reluctantly sitting up when Wei Wuxian took his hand back, stretching out his slightly numb fingers. 

“Back to Gusu, then?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother may have found something.” He paused. “I am sorry to pull you from your nephew.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him incredulously. “Lan Zhan, he’ll still be here later. I can come back. You are dying. That’s obviously infinitely more important. Don’t apologize for stupid things.” He got to his feet and adjusted his belt that had loosened in the night, slipping his shoes back on as Lan Wangji sat up. “I’ll go get us br—” He cut himself off and turned around. “Right. I will not get us breakfast. We’ll go together.”

Lan Wangji nodded his thanks and stood to get ready for the day, They eventually met up with a tired looking Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi as they prepared to leave. Wei Wuxian suggested letting them stay to rest longer, but both protested that they were fine and wanted to come, and they eventually all headed out on their swords.

Lan Wangji proudly watched Wei Wuxian balancing atop Suibian. Such a feat would have been impossible for him when they had parted last. He must have been doing an impressive job cultivating his new core. Lan Wangji said as much, and Wei Wuxian blushed beside him, protesting that a child would likely be stronger than him.

The journey proved grueling for them all, with Wei Wuxian’s budding core, Lan Wangji’s depleted core, and the constant travel with little rest that had been afforded to the junior disciples. Still, they decided as a group to push on, eventually arriving at the Cloud Recesses only an hour after curfew.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” Lan Wangji said to Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, who quickly protested his thanks and then took the dismissal for what it was and went off to find food and rest. He then looked to Wei Wuxian, who was slightly paler than normal and was doing his best to hide how he was panting with exertion. Lan Wangji frowned. “You should have said something if you feel unwell, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian waved away his concern. “I’m fine, Lan Zhan. Getting here was important. It’s just the farthest I’ve flown since… since a lifetime ago.” He looked around. “Everything looks exactly the same as when I left.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. He gently took Wei Wuxian’s wrist and led him toward the Hanshi. “My brother will wish to know that we have returned.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said, skipping a bit until he was right beside Lan Wangji, resting in his peripheral. 

When they arrived, Lan Xichen quickly answered the knock despite the late hour, looking between his brother and Wei Wuxian. “Wangji,” he said in relief, stepping back to let them through. “Is this really Young Master Wei?” 

“It’s me, Zewu-Jun,” Wei Wuxian said, tugging his hand free of Lan Wangji’s grip and bowing. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

Lan Xichen’s eyebrows raised. “That’s unnecessary, Young Master Wei. You were not involved in this. In fact, your presence can only be helpful.” Still, he reached forward, waiting for a nod before feeling Wei Wuxian’s pulse and ensuring that it was indeed him. When he was satisfied, he released Wei Wuxian and clasped his hands behind his back. “Wangji, are you well?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “It happened only once on the way to Lanling, and not again since we arrived at Koi Tower.”

The relief showed plainly on Lan Xichen’s face. “So Young Master Wei’s presence is enough to keep the curse at bay.”

Lan Wangji nodded gratefully to Wei Wuxian. “It seems so.”

“Good,” Lan Xichen said, leading them farther inside and gesturing to his table of research. “Because I have not been successful yet in finding a cure.” The words looked to distress Wei Wuxian more than Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian drew out a qiankun bag and held it up. “Jin Ling let us borrow some books that might help. I only got through two last night, but there might be something useful in the others.”

Lan Xichen dipped his head. “Thank you for your help, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “It’s nothing. We’ll figure this out.”

They ate what food Lan Xichen had had brought for them and then took several of the texts that Lan Xichen offered them from the Lan Sect library along with what Wei Wuxian already had and set off for the Jingshi, bidding Lan Xichen goodnight but guessing that the man would find little rest until his brother was freed from his curse.

Once in the Jingshi, Lan Wangji determinedly drew up a bath, desperate to wash over three days of grime from traveling off of him but unsure of how to do so with his new limitations. When he opened his mouth to broach the subject with Wei Wuxian, he found the other man grabbing a book and walking to the center table. “Wei Ying—”

“I’ll just be here, Lan Zhan. Reading, and not turning around. Okay?” he called over his shoulder, keeping his eyes forward.

Lan Wangji shook his head and nearly smiled. “Thank you, Wei Ying.” Even with the promise not to look, Lan Wangji still felt a surge of self consciousness as he disrobed and stepped into the bath without a privacy screen. He forced down the traitorous part of him that shouted how it wanted Wei Wuxian to look at him and quickly went through the motions, cleaning himself and then hurrying out to dress in fresh robes, the entire process feeling strangely intimate and performative as he had to watch Wei Wuxian’s back throughout all of it. “I am finished,” he said once he was dressed. That quiet traitorous part of him spoke up again, begging him to ask Wei Wuxian to comb his hair, to feel him close, but he ignored it and met Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he turned to face him. “Would you like me to draw you a bath as well?”

Wei Wuxian snorted. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. You’ll either have to be watching me the whole time or sitting next to me and holding my hand, right?” His eyes lingered on the damp, loose hair no longer adorned with anything but his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s ears flared red. “Of course. My apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian stood up and cracked his back. “Anyway, we might figure this out tomorrow, right? Then you won’t have to worry about watching me anymore, and I can get out of your hair again.”

A heavy weight settled in Lan Wangji’s stomach as he was reminded that Wei Wuxian was only here because he had to be, that the last year he had spent traveling was enough for him, that he didn’t need to be with Lan Wangji to be happy, even though that was exactly was Lan Wangji needed to find his own happiness. “If not, we can go to the cold spring.”

“Good idea!” Wei Wuxian grabbed a book off of the table and held it out to Lan Wangji, who went to him and took it.

They sat together for hours, researching well past midnight. Wei Wuxian occasionally scribbled down a note when he found something that might be useful, but the time was largely spent with him making small, frustrated noises as each chapter he finished proved useless. Lan Wangji stayed silent throughout, but he was privately getting increasingly concerned. He was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die, especially now that Wei Wuxian was alive again, now that he was his friend and might come to visit from time to time. He didn’t want to miss out on a single second with him. But if they didn’t find a cure, then this might be all the time that he had.

They eventually capitulated for the night and crawled into bed together, Wei Wuxian offering his hand again and Lan Wangji taking it a bit too eagerly. Lan Wangji drifted to sleep, overwhelmingly grateful not only for Wei Wuxian’s presence, but for the fact that he had not had to watch him die that day. If he clutched his hand a little too tightly, Wei Wuxian didn’t complain.

In the morning, Lan Wangji was pulled back to consciousness by a quiet gasp and the hand in his tugging and then going slack. His eyes flew open and he shot upright, but it was too late to do anything. Wei Wuxian was lying beside him in bed, his eyes wide and unseeing, his chest unmoving. Lan Wangji was stricken with agonized terror.

“Wei Ying!” he cried, taking his face in his hands. “Wei Ying, no—”

Quick footsteps raced into the room, but Lan Wangji ignored them until his face was in someone’s hands and being pulled away from his devastated stare at the body. He had only just gotten him back, he couldn’t be—

He looked up when he was forced to, and he saw Wei Wuxian, his eyes wide and scared as he tried to calm Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan, it’s okay. I’m right here. You’re fine, it’s fine,” he said soothingly, brushing his thumbs over Lan Wangji’s cheeks. “I’m right here, Lan Zhan. It’s okay. Breathe. Breathe for me, Lan Zhan. There you are,” he murmured, his hands shaking but firm as Lan Wangji slowly regained control and registered the gaping new hole in his core. When he looked back down to the bed, the body was already gone. “I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian breathed, tears in his eyes.

“It’s my fault. I called you away,” Lan Xichen said from the threshold, a look of regret on his face as he watched the scene. “I… will leave the information here for you. Please take the time to recover, and call on me if you need anything before I return.” He looked to Lan Wangji and apologized again before backing out of the Jingshi.

Lan Wangji slowly caught his breath and found that he was clinging to Wei Wuxian’s wrists so tightly that it would likely leave bruises. He forced his fingers to uncurl, leaving them trembling at his sides as Wei Wuxian slowly released him too.

“I’m really sorry, Lan Zhan.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lan Wangji said quickly, forcing himself to look away from where his corpse had just been. He focused instead on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he grabbed his wrist again, Wei Wuxian allowing it easily.

The Jingshi was left in a pained silence for several minutes as Lan Wangji composed himself and endlessly traced Wei Wuxian’s spiritual pathways and monitored his pulse until he had managed to convince himself again that he was fine.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian finally said quietly. The morning light coming through the windows caught his skin and lit it up golden, and Lan Wangji found himself utterly entranced by the ethereal image. “Your nightmares… Are you afraid of me dying?”

Lan Wangji looked to him in confusion. “I told you this,” he said, the admission costing nothing anymore. He would happily have Wei Wuxian know his heart and reject it, so long as he lived. 

“No. No, you said that I scared you, that I was your nightmare.”

Lan Wangji had a sudden flash of understanding for Wei Wuxian’s reaction in Lanling. “You misunderstood me,” he said, cursing his own inability to ever find the right words to articulate his feelings. “I am not afraid of you, Wei Ying. I am terrified of losing you again.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and his hold on Lan Wangji grew gentler. “So… So you haven’t been watching me, I don’t know, torture innocent children. You—”

“I have been watching you die,” Lan Wangji confirmed.

Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip trembled for a moment. “Lan Zhan,” he whispered, and Lan Wangji’s fingers brushed over his wrists. “You…” He shook his head, blinking away a tear and forcing himself to refocus on their predicament. “After all of this is over…” There would be time to sort through feelings later. He collected himself and sighed. “So that was the third time then, right? The third since Zewu-Jun said you could only survive four more.”

Still slightly reeling, Lan Wangji struggled to keep up with Wei Wuxian, but he nodded.

Wei Wuxian sighed. “Zewu-Jun brought over some notes of what he found last night. I’m going to go through them now. Do you want to go back to sleep? I promise I won’t leave your side again.” 

Lan Wangji shook his head. “No. I’ll join you.” He got up and dressed, barely blinking as he watched Wei Wuxian. He then settled in across from him at the table, feeling guilty for leaving the work to save his life to Wei Wuxian alone, but he had Chief Cultivator business to attend to that he had previously abandoned. They shared breakfast while they worked, then eventually lunch as well. An hour before dinner, Lan Wangji finished a letter and then stood, drawing the uncharacteristically quiet and focused Wei Wuxian’s attention.

“Lan Zhan?” he said, voice rough from the prolonged silence.

“Would you like to go to the cold springs now?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “No. No, I’m sure I can figure this out if I just keep at it—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said softly. “Take a break.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “Your life is on the line, Lan Zhan. No breaks.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji sighed, contemplating the best course of action. “Wei Ying, I would like to go.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said. He stood up. “Sorry. Sure, let’s go.” He grabbed the book that he was halfway through and looked expectantly at Lan Wangji, who only shook his head exasperatedly then gestured to the door as they began to walk together. 

They trekked through the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji acknowledging the disciples who bowed as they passed by until they were secluded at the cold springs, disrobing down to their inner robes and climbing into the water. While Wei Wuxian was complaining about the cold, Lan Wangji snatched the book away from him and tossed it behind him, the text landing neatly atop his folded robes.

“Lan Zhan!” 

“No books in the cold springs.”

Wei Wuxian huffed, moving to get out. “You should have said. I’ll just wait for you to finish, then.”

Lan Wangji caught his elbow as he tried to pass. “If you get out, I will not turn, and then another nightmare will manifest.”

Wei Wuxian sputtered incredulously. “Lan Zhan! I’m trying to save your life here, you stubborn idiot. Why don’t you want me to?”

“Wei Ying needs to take a break.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “Lan Zhan,” he drew out the name. “You claim not to lie, but didn’t you trick me to get me here? You didn’t need a break at all, did you?”

“If you will not take care of yourself, then someone else must,” Lan Wangji said easily.

“Well, I was a bit busy taking care of you. You know, trying to make sure you don’t go into qi deviation and die?”

“A half hour will not set us back,” Lan Wangji said. “Rest. Bathe.” He let go of Wei Wuxian’s arm. “Nothing bad will happen so long as you are in my sight.”

Wei Wuxian blushed slightly, but he acquiesced. “Fine. But then we’re right back to it, okay? I think I almost have enough information to make an array that might undo it.”

Lan Wangji was surprised. “So quickly?” Generations of past cultivators could not discover a cure, but in a day of research, Wei Wuxian might already be close to succeeding.

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Maybe. Obviously I can’t be completely sure until it’s tested.”

“Impressive,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian’s cheeks went red and he spun around, putting his back to Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan! You can’t just say things like that!”

“I mean it,” he said unapologetically. He settled into the water, keeping an eye on Wei Wuxian and marveling at how he was allowed to have this, temporary and forced as it was. When Wei Wuxian decided to leave again after this, he would be bereft.

They left after nearly an hour, dressing and then returning to the Jingshi after stopping to pick up dinner. Wei Wuxian plopped right back into his seat at the table, absently eating with one hand and writing with the other, refusing to stop even when Lan Wangji asked him to.

They eventually retired for the evening, their sides pressed closely together in fear that the morning would repeat itself. 

The following day was much the same as the last, though without the terror that Lan Wangji had woken up to before. They worked together, then around lunch, Wei Wuxian set his notes aside and stretched.

“Lan Zhan? You don’t know who put this curse on you, do you?”

“I do not,” he replied, setting down his brush to give Wei Wuxian his full attention.

“Hm.” Wei Wuxian’s finger brushed his nose, and Lan Wangji almost smiled at the familiar gesture as Wei Wuxian puzzled through something. He then crossed the room to his bag and drew out a jar, bringing it back to the table and taking one of the teacups from the tray beside them, filling it to the brim. “Lan Zhan, this is a healing drink I got on my travels. I think it’ll help the situation. You just have to drink it all at once, okay?”

Lan Wangji looked to him in confusion but took the proffered cup. “Wei Ying?”

“Please just drink it, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian watched him expectantly, with a hint of worry.

With that request, Lan Wangji downed the cup, setting it back on the table before the flavor hit him. “Wei Ying,” he said with a frown, already starting to feel fuzzy.

Wei Wuxian had come around to his side of the table. “Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“This is alcohol.”

“It is.”

Lan Wangji looked to him incredulously. “How will getting me drunk help, exactly?” The words came out a bit slower than he planned.

“Well, unless your tolerance has increased, it’ll put you to sleep and let me do what I need to.” He dropped beside Lan Wangji, propping his head up and watching him expectantly.

“Wei Ying, what do you…?” The question trailed off into the air, and Lan Wangji slowly felt his eyes beginning to close regardless of how forcefully he ordered them to remain open. His last awareness was of falling against Wei Wuxian’s chest, arms coming up to catch him carefully as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When Lan Wangji awoke, he was in his bed, and Wei Wuxian was not beside him. He had so quickly gotten used to their new arrangement that his absence sent a spike of fear through him when he realized what the consequences must be, but as he rushed to his feet, no phantom of Wei Wuxian appeared just to die before him. Instead, there was just a quiet curse outside of the Jingshi in a voice that was beloved to him, and he rushed out.

“Wei Ying.” He stopped behind the man, who glanced back at him over his shoulder.

“You’re awake,” Wei Wuxian said, throwing a smile at him. 

Lan Wangji was struck by it for a moment, then gathered himself. “Why did you want to put me to sleep?”

“Because you would have stopped me,” Wei Wuxian said flippantly, turning back to his task. With his hair pulled up away from his face while he worked, Lan Wangji could see the darkness of a curse mark poking out above his robes to cover the back of his neck.

Lan Wangji’s heart dropped, and his hand went to the same place on his own body, feeling the skin there smooth and undamaged, save for the scars that were already present. “Tell me you didn’t, Wei Ying.”

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence, Lan Zhan. Besides, you can’t be mad at me. I solved it.” He finished drawing a character on the ground with a flourish and then stood, turning to Lan Wangji. “I figured out the whole array we’d need to undo the curse, but a crucial part of it is including the name of the person who originated the curse for you. Since we don’t know that, we’d never be able to cure you.” He rubbed at the curse mark, wincing. “But for me, the origin of the curse would be you, so I only need to use your name. Once we have enough people to power the array, we’ll all just activate it, and this won’t be a problem anymore. And anyway, I—” He bit his lip, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m pretty sure I’m good as long as I can see you, too.”

Lan Wangji’s lips parted at the admission, and he reached out for Wei Wuxian’s hand, taking it tenderly in his own. “Wei Ying.” 

“Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“This was foolish. Reckless.”

“And necessary,” Wei Wuxian countered. “Am I just supposed to sit around and watch you die when I can do something about it?”

Lan Wangji sighed and shook his head. “You know how to cure the curse?”

Wei Wuxian nodded eagerly. “The array is done. We just need two other people to power it. Obviously Zewu-Jun would be our best bet, and I’d like Sizhui to be involved. He was really so worried about you, so it’ll be nice to let him help fix it.”

“We will send for them now, then.” Keeping his hold on Wei Wuxian’s hand, he left immediately for the Hanshi. Time was now precious, and the walk suddenly seemed more urgent than the last few days had been, now that it was Wei Wuxian’s life on the line. On the way, he told a passing disciple to find Lan Sizhui and have him waiting for them back at the Jingshi. 

Lan Wangji knocked on the door, and his brother quickly answered, looking like he’d barely slept since the first night that this curse had made itself known.

“Good news, Zewu-Jun!” Wei Wuxian said brightly, waving with their clasped hands. The elder watched them wearily, though with a sudden delight when he noted their position. Lan Wangji found his ears reddening as his brother drew incorrect conclusions. “Lan Zhan’s curse is gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes widened, and his entire body deflated as relief swept through him “Is it truly?”

“Wei Ying transferred it to himself,” Lan Wangji said unhappily, sending a glare at Wei Wuxian, who only squeezed his hand in return.

Lan Xichen shook his head. “How? This curse should not have been able to be transferred, or else I—” He pressed his lips together, and a soft fondness filled Lan Wangji’s chest.

“It was difficult, but I managed. Anyway, I would appreciate your help with curing me now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen said quickly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just lend some energy to the array I drew up, if you would.”

Lan Xichen nodded, then bowed deeply to Wei Wuxian. “I am in your debt, Young Master Wei. I will do anything I can to help you.”

Wei Wuxian blanched, then quickly broke away from Lan Wangji to bring Lan Xichen back upright. “Zewu-Jun!” he cried. “Ah, you brothers are impossible!”

Lan Xichen smiled fondly. “Young Master Wei, if you’ll lead the way?”

Wei Wuxian still mumbled under his breath about how unbelievable the Twin Jades were, but he grabbed Lan Wangji’s hand again and tugged him along, Lan Xichen following close behind with a bright smile adorning his face.

They came upon the Jingshi, seeing Lan Sizhui waiting by the door already, out of breath but lighting up when he saw them approaching. “Senior Wei, Hanguang-Jun, Zewu-Jun.” He saluted them, then straightened. “Is everything alright?”

“Wei Ying solved it,” Lan Wangji said, and Lan Sizhui beamed.

“Really? Senior Wei, how did you do it?”

Before any of them could answer, there was a cry from behind the house near where Wei Wuxian had drawn the array. They all immediately looked worried and went to respond to the call, but Wei Wuxian went deathly pale and staggered forward before any of the rest of them could move, recognizing the voice of the one who had once been his most beloved person in the world.

“Shijie!” he cried, sprinting around after the sound. 

Lan Wangji exchanged panicked looks with Lan Xichen and then took off after him, with Lan Sizhui trailing behind. They came around the back to see Wei Wuxian cradling the bloodied form of Jiang Yanli, looking exactly as she had when she died seventeen years before. “Go to the array,” Lan Wangji said quietly to his brother, who nodded and led Lan Sizhui to the large circle of runes and characters drawn across the ground. “Wei Ying,” he called, slowly approaching him, but Wei Wuxian couldn’t hear him, lost as he was in his own nightmare.

“Shijie, Shijie it’s okay, you’ll be alright,” he said frantically, pouring his energy into her. The wound she had earned willingly through her love for her brother stood bright against her white mourning clothes. “Just hold on. There’s healers here, good ones. Lan Zhan will make them fix you. It’ll be fine.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli breathed, bringing a trembling hand to his cheek. She smiled at him, so weakly but so full of love. Her adoration was plain for anyone watching to see, but her attention was fully on Wei Wuxian. “My XianXian, why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” he lied, shifting her gently so that she could rest in his arms while he covered the phantom wound. “There’s no reason to cry, because you’re going to be perfectly fine. I’ll help you this time. I’ll save you,” he vowed between harsh sobs, wavering slightly as he was already beginning to run low on energy.

“Hm,” she smiled softly even as blood dotted her chin from a rough cough. “You’ve always been so determined to take care of me, silly boy, but wasn’t it me who raised you?”

He nodded, and Lan Wangji felt his heart break at Wei Wuxian’s desperate sincerity as he knelt down unnoticed beside him. “You’ve always looked after me. It’s my turn. I should have—” he lost his words to his tears. “Shijie, A-Ling—”

“My A-Ling has his two uncles to take care of him now. I know that he’ll be loved and well cared for.” Jiang Yanli’s expression twisted in pain, and she gasped. “XianXian,” she choked out, cupping his face and clutching at his robes as he held her so carefully. “Everything that you think you need to be forgiven for, I will forgive you. You are my brother, and no others can judge you. Your home is with me always.”

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his tears falling onto her robes. “Please. Please, don’t…” He poured all that he could into her, willing it to be enough to heal her and bring her back. Lan Wangji watched helplessly, going entirely unnoticed as he monitored Wei Wuxian’s spiritual energy beside him, making sure that he could stop him if he started to go too far.

Jiang Yanli smiled sweetly, her face pained but undeniably filled with love. “I wish we could have been together just one more time. We three…” she breathed weakly, her eyes closing. “We are the closest in all the world.” She exhaled slowly, tipping further into Wei Wuxian’s embrace. In another moment, she was gone.

“No,” Wei Wuxian said brokenly, staring down at her in disbelief. “No. Shijie—'' His breath hitched, and then he was clutching Jiang Yanli’s body to him, pulling her head into his shoulder and crying into her hair. His muffled pleading was audible across the clearing, and Lan Xichen and Lan Sizhui turned away, wearing matching expressions of pity and sorrow. “Please, come back,” he begged quietly. He let himself fall back against Lan Wangji’s chest when his hand came to his shoulder for support, and Lan Wangji immediately wrapped his arms around him, tucking Wei Wuxian’s head under his chin. He ended up holding them both, and he supported Wei Wuxian’s hold on Jiang Yanli just as much as Wei Wuxian himself, as she was truly a piece of Wei Wuxian’s golden core made manifest that would quickly be lost.

Wei Wuxian trembled against him, seeming to eagerly accept his support as he cried. Then, all too soon for Wei Wuxian to come to accept that as any sort of closure, the body started to fade, disappearing into shimmering fog and fading away into the sky. Wei Wuxian followed its path as it fled until it went beyond their sight, and he sagged against Lan Wangji, bringing his hands up to hold the arms that were wrapped tightly around his chest.

“Lan Zhan,” he croaked, staring blankly ahead.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said softly, sadly.

He swallowed, tears still falling silently down his cheeks. “Is that how it was for you?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly, Wei Wuxian able to feel the movement with their closeness. He could not claim to have the same bond that Wei Wuxian had shared with his sister, but each time, he had felt his loss so acutely that it was like his own soul was being carved away. He would suffer hundreds of lashes from the discipline whip before ever allowing Wei Wuxian to come to harm again.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, struggling to collect himself before pulling away from Lan Wangji and staggering to his feet. “Let’s get this done,” he said flatly, walking over to the array.

“Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui said when he got close enough, his eyes shining.

Wei Wuxian smiled weakly at him. “It’s alright, A-Yuan,” he murmured, squeezing his arm. He took a deep breath and stepped into the center. “So.” He cleared his throat, scrubbing quickly at his eyes and looking determined to pretend that the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “Zewu-Jun, if you direct your energy here,” he pointed out parts of the array. “And Sizhui, you go here, and Lan Zhan goes here, then that should do it.” He dropped into the lotus position on the ground in the center of the array, pressing his palms flat against the characters on either side of him. “Ready?”

Three nods answered him, and he closed his eyes as they began feeding spiritual energy into the different points of the array. Slowly, the sigils began to glow and trace their way to Wei Wuxian, and then he grimaced as the curse mark flared.  Lan Wangji would have pulled back in concern if he didn’t trust in Wei Wuxian’s work, but he was left watching for the next minute before the lights dimmed and Wei Wuxian dropped his head, panting.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji called, entering the array and helping Wei Wuxian to his feet. He then turned him around and pulled down the back of his collar, checking to make sure that the curse mark had faded entirely. All that met his gaze was smooth skin, and he finally, for the first time in days, relaxed. “You did it.”

“Mhm,” Wei Wuxian said, sagging against Lan Wangji’s side. An arm came up automatically to support him. “Ah, Sizhui. Zewu-Jun.” He looked between them. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui said with a soft smile. “I am always happy to help you. But is this array how we will remove Hanguang-Jun’s curse then, too?”

“Ah, right. His curse became my curse, so now we’re both all good, thanks to your help.” He patted Lan Sizhui’s shoulder and received another smile in return while Lan Xichen stepped forward.

“I’m glad that you are both well now,” he said sincerely, looking between his brother and Wei Wuxian. “I think that we should take our leave.” He gestured to Lan Sizhui to follow him, and neither Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji protested when they left with a last goodbye.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said quietly, his gaze downcast. “Can we go home now?”

Delight leapt in Lan Wangji’s chest at the realization that Wei Wuxian was referring to the Jingshi, and he quickly nodded and began leading him inside. It was quiet between them, Wei Wuxian left utterly exhausted by what he’d had to endure, and he crossed over to the bed and flopped down into it, looking up at Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he said lowly. “I know you don’t have to anymore, but would you stay with me?”

Lan Wangji was by his side in an instant, climbing into the bed beside Wei Wuxian when he shifted to make room for him. “I will always stay with you,” he vowed. “For as long as you will allow me to.”

That brought a smile back to Wei Wuxian’s lips, though it was a teary smile. “You know, I really thought that I’d be okay with you in my sight. Maybe I was right. Maybe you both would have appeared to me, and I would have had to deal with losing you and Shijie together.” He shook his head, then shamelessly pushed forward to lay his head on Lan Wangji’s chest, stretching an arm around his waist. Lan Wangji curled his own arm around him in return, wondering if he could somehow be dreaming. Surely he wasn’t allowed to have this. Surely Wei Wuxian didn’t feel the same way for him. “Lan Zhan, I can hear you thinking,” Wei Wuxian said, eyes closed and voice muffled against Lan Wangji’s robes. “Just rest with me, Hanguang-Jun. We’ve both had a rough few days.”

Needing no more convincing, Lan Wangji relaxed into the bed, marveling at how perfectly Wei Wuxian fit into his embrace as he slowly drifted off to sleep despite the afternoon light shining over them. Lan Wangji watched him for a while, cataloging his features and memorizing this moment in case he was misunderstanding Wei Wuxian’s implications and all of the words that he wasn’t saying. It truly seemed, though, that after years of miscommunications and separation, they might finally have arrived at an unspoken understanding of what they were and what they could be to each other.

He settled in beside his soulmate, smiling as quiet breaths warmed his skin and lulled him to sleep.

He woke to Wei Wuxian leaning over him, his hair falling in a curtain around his face. 

“Wei Ying?”

“I’m tired of being apart from you,” Wei Wuxian said simply.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world, in the next moment, their lips were pressed together, and Lan Wangji felt every past pain and sacrifice slot into place, aligning to create the perfect future that allowed him to have Wei Wuxian in his arms.

His hands came up to hold Wei Wuxian’s waist, pulling him over him and clutching him close, one hand moving to bury in Wei Wuxian’s hair as Wei Wuxian smiled against his lips and supported himself with a hand on Lan Wangji’s chest, the other curling around the back of his neck as he broke away after a long minute, panting. Lan Wangji chased after him, capturing his mouth again and nibbling at his bottom lip, his hands freely roaming over Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji gasped when Wei Wuxian’s fingers settled over his belt teasingly, then danced back up to his face, his hair, his arms, his chest, touching Lan Wangji in a way that he had never fully allowed himself to imagine that he would. When Wei Wuxian attached his mouth to Lan Wangji’s neck, he drew out a moan, and Wei Wuxian straightened above him, his lips kissed red and decorated with a mischievous and adoring smile.

“Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“Wei Ying,” he said brokenly, reaching up to take Wei Wuxian’s face in his hands. “Wei Ying, you have to know…” A tear slid down his temple into his hair, and Wei Wuxian leaned down to kiss the trail away. Lan Wangji’s eyes fluttered closed.

“I think I know, Lan Zhan. I think I’ve known for a while and didn’t really let myself think about it.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji stared up into Wei Wuxian’s warm eyes.

“Because it’s scary to feel like this and to not know for sure that it’s reciprocated. And it’s even scarier if it is.” He dropped back onto his heels beside Lan Wangji. “I used to think that liking someone like this would be like leashing yourself. I thought it would trap you. But Lan Zhan, I’ve never been freer than when I’m with you.” His smile was heartbreakingly earnest, and Lan Wangji couldn’t resist taking both of his hands. “I was so scared when you said you were cursed. I’d thought before that I could give you space to do your Chief Cultivator thing without my reputation hurting you, but the second you told me that, I knew I’d wasted too much time. And I thought I could be sure about how you felt, but then you said I was your nightmare—”

“I should have clarified—”

“I understand now, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian finished, bringing their intertwined hands up and kissing each of Lan Wangji’s so softly. “And after having to relive Shijie’s…” He swallowed and banished the dark thoughts. “I’m not going to wait for anything else to happen to one of us. Lan Zhan, I like you so much. I want to stay here with you. I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up every morning to your face. I want to night hunt with you and help you with your duties and eat dinner with you every day. I want to kiss you every time I see you.” He let out a shaky breath, and his hands trembled in Lan Wangji’s. “I love you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji watched him in awe, then pushed himself upright so they were sitting together. “Wei Ying,” he said slowly. “I cannot imagine my life without you again. I have loved you since we were teenagers, and I love you more still.” He leaned forward, catching Wei Wuxian’s lips in a tender kiss that lingered with his reluctance to pull away. “I never want to be parted from you.”

A silent, happy tear fell from Wei Wuxian’s eye to the blanket below. “I’ll make sure you never have to be, my Lan Zhan.”

The quiet of the early evening soothed them with a welcome breeze through the window, catching their hair and blowing it about in a delicate dance. The two remained caught up in their own world, their confessions so sudden but also two decades in the making. They delighted in each other’s company for some time, now without the looming threat of death hanging over either of them. Eventually, they collapsed back onto the pillows, breathless and light. 

Wei Wuxian turned his head to Lan Wangji, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “You know, now that this is all over, we’re going to have to go back to Koi Tower for Little Apple after you so cruelly made me leave her there.”

Lan Wangji huffed a quiet laugh, pulling Wei Wuxian into his side and pressing a kiss to the top of his head, rejoicing in his newfound freedom to do so whenever he pleased. “Whatever Wei Ying wants.”

Wei Wuxian hid his face against Lan Wangji’s chest. “Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that.”

“Mean it,” Lan Wangji said. “For the rest of our lives. Whatever you want.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips pressed directly over his heart, his fingers smoothing over the fabric afterward as he tipped his head up, resting his chin on Lan Wangji’s chest so that he could look at him with eyes twinkling with happiness. “My Lan Zhan is too good.”

The words echoed those of a nightmare now buried in the past, somewhere they could no longer hurt him. “Never too good for Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said softly.

Their nightmares behind them, entwined in each other’s arms, they slept, a new future awaiting them on the other side of dawn.