Day Five

“Shijie.”

It’s such a faint sound that Lan Wangji is sure that he’s imagining it, but then Wei Ying calls for his sister again.

“Shijie… I’m hungry.”

He appears to be talking in his sleep. Lan Wangji can tell that his fever is up again because his tall frame is curled in on itself even underneath all of the layers that have been piled on him. Wei Ying does have a tendency to demand for attention, but it’s never a plea like this one. Compared to the need to keep the fire going and to tend to their injuries, hunger has not been at the forefront of Lan Wangji’s thoughts.

He made sure you ate more than him, of course you don’t feel it as much as he does.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji shakes him lightly, hoping to rouse him from the dream that’s making him talk. It doesn’t work. Wei Ying mumbles something unintelligible, but he doesn’t wake. “Wei Ying!”

Wei Ying’s fever burns as if it’s a sentient thing, as if it has some sort of vengeance against the body hosting it. Lan Wangji pushes the robes aside to take his wrist and calls up his own golden core-

-and nothing comes.

He searches himself, looking for the vestiges of his spiritual energy, and commands its obedience; it burns through him as he dredges it out of himself and he’s barely transfused anything into Wei Ying before the wispy blue stream sputters and dies.

Frustrated, he curses himself.

He’s useless.

He can’t heal Wei Ying, can’t feed him, can’t even keep him warm enough. There’s nothing he can do.

There is.

He fashions a torch for himself from the longest branch in the pile of firewood and a strip of cloth torn from the hem of his robe, and with that in hand he sets off to find the supposedly impossible-to-reach opening.

*

Just as Wei Ying had described, he eventually reaches a dead end, and just as Wei Ying had described, the cave instead extends upwards. The torch’s flame is too small to show him the roof of the cave, so all that he can see above him is a well of darkness. No matter, Lan Wangji isn’t afraid of the dark.

The walls of the cave are a little slimy, with a combination of what must be rainwater and lichen, but also uneven; he’ll be able to find handholds and footholds to assist his climb, but it’ll also be slippery.

He pokes the bottom end of the stick through his wrist wrappings, allowing it to rest against the back of his hand; the heat from the flame is a little uncomfortable at this distance, but as long as he doesn’t forget himself and try to touch his face or body, he’s not at risk of being burnt. He’s a little proud of himself for figuring out a way to have both hands available for climbing whilst still keeping his torch.

Please, let this work.

He doesn’t know who or what he’s praying to.

*

Darkness above, darkness below.

He can’t tell how far he’s climbed, nor how far he has left to go. It has not been easy; as much as he’s climbed, he’s also slipped back, and his shoulders and legs ache from the effort of clinging to unforgiving rock.

He’s tired.

But having made it so far, he’s not giving up now.

He reaches out, using the dim light of the fire and his sense of touch, to find an indent or ledge he can use as a handhold, and finds one just above his left shoulder. He grabs it-

-pain flares in his hand-

-he instinctively he pulls back-

-and falls.

*

Blood from the re-opened cut on his hand makes the climb more difficult, but Lan Wangji soldiers on. He’s learnt to reach with his right hand now, and this time he makes it past the ledge that had cut his left hand earlier. This time, when he falls, it’s because a foothold crumbles under his feet.

*

On the third fall, the torch – which is close to burning out anyway – snaps in half, leaving him with a useless stick tied to his wrist and a broken end with a flame barely larger than a match would provide. His nails are cracked, his knees are scraped and his wounded leg throbs with fresh pain. On the third fall, Lan Wangji hits the ground and stays there, wallowing in damp, darkness and despair.

Damn Xue Chonghai for creating the Yin Tian.

Damn Lan Yi Qianbei for her arrogance in thinking she could control the Yin Tian when everyone else had failed.

Damn Wen Ruohan for his madness.

Damn Wen Chao for his cruelty.

Damn Jiang Cheng for his ineptitude to do something as simple as returning to the cave with some ropes.

Damn Wei Ying for his self-sacrificing recklessness.

And damn him. Most of all, damn him.

*

Wei Ying is lying across the ground, so close to the fire that he risks being burnt by a stray spark. At least, Lan Wangji thinks, he’s not awake to witness his defeat. How embarrassing it is that, for all of his effort, he hadn’t even been able to see the opening that Wei Ying had – presumably – easily located with a talisman.

I will convince Shufu to expand education on talismans, he thinks.

Then he remembers. Who’s to say he still has a Shufu? Who’s to say that there still exists a Lan clan with disciples he can educate?

Since Wei Ying doesn’t seem to be able to sleep upright, Lan Wangji hauls him a little further from the fire and balls up the thin overcoat so that he can pillow his head on something softer than stone.

“Wei Ying.”

He doesn’t wake up.

Lan Wangji lays a hand – his clean, not-bleeding hand – against his cheek, ostensibly to check on his fever but that’s just an excuse. Even unconscious with fever, Wei Ying is enthralling. His lips are full and curved, accentuated by that little mole that just begs to be kissed, and the line of his jaw is unbelievably sharp. Lan Wangji’s admiration of him in this moment is shameless, he knows, but it is a temptation he’s not strong enough to resist.

Ji-xiong. Lan Wangji. Lan Er Gongzi, won’t you spare me a glance?

Wei Ying had once pestered him for a mere glance, not knowing that he’s had all of Lan Wangji’s attention from the moment their paths had crossed.

I am looking, Wei Ying. Won’t you look back?

*

The Tulu Xuanwu’s pond reeks of death. Lan Wangji tries to repress his disgust, but his stomach roils until he finds himself on his knees, retching even though all he has to bring up is bile. The thought of entering that pond fills him with dread.

But it also hides a way out, so enter it Lan Wangji does.

The water is cold. Lan Wangji of Yunshen Buzhichu is no stranger to cold water, but this is different. Water is beloved by the Lan clan because it is the source of life, because it is itself alive, but the water here is frigid and as unwelcoming of life as the Tulu Xuanwu itself.

The water is also murky. He can’t see anything underwater, other than to make out the vague shape of the dead Xuanwu. He swims in what he approximates to be the direction of the escape route, hoping to find some clue as to where it might be. Wei Ying had mentioned that the Xuanwu had blocked it, but if he can find it, he can figure out a way to unblock it somehow.

He sticks to the edges first and tries to feel his way around, but it just leads him to swim in circles around the pond – which is a lot larger than it looks at first glance. He tries diving deeper then, but the edges of the pond are too shallow to conceal any escape routes and closer to the centre, it’s too deep for him to reach the bottom no matter how long he holds his breath and dives.

Dead ends, that’s all Lan Wangji finds.

*

Lan Wangji hobbles back to the fire, drenched and limbs near-frozen, with the intention of warming up a little before resuming his search for the escape route.

What actually happens is that Wei Ying, who is by some happy chance awake, takes one look at him and cycles through every emotion from relief to concern to anger before he can even figure out how to look less pathetic. “Lan Zhan!”

He struggles to his feet, but by that time Lan Wangji reaches the fire and all but throws himself down in front of it.

“Why are you wet?”

Isn’t it obvious, Lan Wangji wonders. He’s wet because Jiang Cheng hasn’t come to rescue them, because Wei Ying’s fever won’t heal, because the pond once opened to the outside world and Lan Wangji can’t afford to sit around and do nothing when there’s a possibility that he can get them out.

Before he can answer, Wei Ying works it out for himself. “You went into the pond?”

It’s not like Lan Wangji needs his permission. “Yes.”

Viper-swift, Wei Ying grabs the skirt of his robes and yanks it up, and his pants too, revealing his injured leg. The splints are still firmly in place – Wei Ying had done a good job tying them with whatever material that is – and the wounds left by the Tulu Xuanwu’s teeth have scabbed over.

Given how much his leg hurts, Lan Wangji had expected either one of those injuries to have worsened. It’s a relief that that’s not the case. If anything, he’s lucky to have come away from a day full of misadventures with only minor injuries – if they can even be called that. His knees are scraped and bruised; likely from climbing and falling. Some of the scabs on the wounds have peeled open, revealing pink skin and, in a few places, fresh blood.

Lan Wangji reaches out to pull his robes back into place, only to have Wei Ying smack his hand away. He looks furious. “What has gotten into you?” he hisses. “What are you trying to do?”

“The same thing you did,” Lan Wangji answers. “At least the Xuanwu was dead when I went into the pond.”

“I told you it blocked the exit. It’s caved in, there’s no way even the two of us can dig a way out again. Don’t you listen when I talk? It’s lucky I caught you now, otherwise you might have tried to climb out of the back, and I’d have woken up to find you with both legs broken, or… or your stubborn head smashed open, because you wouldn’t care that you can’t make a talisman-”

“I had a torch.”

That does nothing to appease Wei Ying’s anger, which is just as well because Lan Wangji isn’t trying to.

“You know what, I’m finally beginning to understand why you have so many rules to live by, because you’re clearly insane otherwise.”

“Who do you think you are to speak to me like this?” Lan Wangji is at the end of his patience too; he can’t understand why Wei Ying is making such an issue of him trying to get them out when Wei Ying had attempted the very same thing just days earlier. Why do different standards apply to each of them?

Wei Ying’s face is twisted with rage. His next words are low, hissed. “Who am I?” And that’s not fair because that’s not how Lan Wangji meant it. “I’m the one who had to watch you nearly die from blood loss. I’m the one who had to watch you suffer, I’m the one who’s had to live with the guilt. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I happened to have the right type of medicine for your leg or that some of the people who died happened to be carrying food and water? It took so much luck and effort to keep you alive, did you even stop to think how it would all go to waste if you hurt yourself even more?”

I didn’t ask you to anything for me, Lan Wangji thinks, but he recognises how petulant that thought is the moment it crosses his mind.

*

“If you don’t mind, I could carry you.”

Wei Ying is so earnest in making the offer, so casual, as if it’s in his nature to flitter about scattering kindness at Lan Wangji like a farmer scattering seed at a chicken.

It’s a pity that Wei Ying doesn’t stop to think about the consequences of his offer. Of all of the disciples here, Wen Chao hates him the most. Wei Ying has deflected some of that hatred towards himself, but it’s still true that Wen Chao would like nothing more than to see him broken, to see him compromise his dignity, to see him admit weakness. He cannot accept help from anyone – no matter how well-intentioned – without inviting Wen Chao to shame his clan. And setting all of that aside, Lan Wangji is of similar height and weight to Wei Ying. Wei Ying might be able to carry him for a while, but all the way up the mountain? That’s too much to ask for.

But that’s Wei Ying, Lan Wangji has learnt by now. He’s so eager to help that he doesn’t stop to consider what it might cost him or others.

“How boring.”

He walks away.

Wei Ying doesn’t offer again.

Instead, he abandons Jiang Cheng and the rest of the Jiang clan disciples to become Lan Wangji’s shadow. There’s nothing Lan Wangji can say or do to get rid of him; he’s free to walk wherever he wants and if they start arguing, it’ll attract Wen Chao’s attention. Lan Wangji can’t even glare at him, because, like a shadow, he walks a step behind.

Truth be told, Lan Wangji doesn’t want to get rid of him.

This hunt is unexpected, and so is its toll on him. Having Wei Ying by his side is a relief; he doesn’t have to think about anything more than taking one step at a time, because he can trust Wei Ying to be able to spot any sign of danger and to give him enough warning of impending trouble.

As the day passes, Wei Ying grows bolder. He stops walking a step behind and stops hiding his concern. He starts kicking sticks and stones out of Lan Wangji’s path and holds shrubbery out of the way. Any Wen clan soldier who so much as glances in their direction gets stared down to the extent that the soldiers stop checking if they’re still following. When, by some luck, they stop for a break and Wei Ying goes to fetch him water he can’t even muster the energy to pretend that he doesn’t need or want help.

Wei Ying gives him water in a leaf carried in carefully cupped hands, and he shields him from view as he drinks. The water is cool; it quenches a thirst Lan Wangji didn’t even know he had.

“More?” Wei Ying asks, with a voice is so soft that it feels like a gentle caress against Lan Wangji’s bruised soul.

Before he can answer, Wen Chao puts an end to the break.

*

“Knowing how much your life is worth to others, how can you be so careless?”

Lan Wangji has no defence to that accusation. He knows he’s been reckless with his well-being – using the excuse of Wei Ying’s fever – and he has made a mockery of everything Wei Ying has risked and sacrificed for him thus far.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes.

Going on the quest for the remaining shards of the Yin Tian was a mistake; the Wen clan and Xue Yang already had them all, so all he accomplished was to alert Wen Chao to the fact that he had a shard too. Taking the Yin Tian back to Gusu after that failure of a quest was also a mistake; the Wen clan had attacked Yunshen Buzhichu because they knew it would be there.

Every decision I’ve made has turned ill; every step I’ve taken has lead me down a road darker than the last.

And yet, I don’t regret doing what I did. Even if it wastes every last bit of the effort Wei Ying put into saving me, I don’t regret trying to find a way out for his sake. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.

Doesn’t that make me a bad person?

I don’t know what to do anymore.

“Lan Zhan.”

What more does Wei Ying have to say?

“Lan Zhan, look at me.”

The tone of Wei Ying’s voice has changed; it’s mild, mellowed of all of the anger it held earlier. Lan Wangji would find it funny if it weren’t also so humiliating. He’s not so delicate that he’ll wither from a few harsh words.

A hand finds his shoulder, the touch hesitant.

“Lan Zhan.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Will he ever tire of asking, Lan Wangji wonders. He does as Wei Ying asks and looks at him, taking in the fevered glaze of his eyes and the paleness of his skin. “You look unwell.”

That gets a chuckle out of Wei Ying. “Oh, so you can joke with me now? You scared me, Lan Er Gongzi, I thought you were never going to speak to me again.” Wei Ying bumps their shoulders together. “Jiang Cheng and I, we argue a lot. He has a bad temper, and mine isn’t great either, and we can be cruel to each other sometimes. I can’t imagine Zewu Jun ever being rude, let alone cruel. I bet guys don’t even argue.”

That’s not true, but Wei Ying is correct in his assessment of his brother.

Wei Ying sighs. “I know you’re not careless. Of all of us, you’re the last one who can be described as careless. It must have been hard for you, trying to climb out. And knowing you, you wouldn’t have given up quickly.”

Lan Wangji would pick the climb over the foul pond anytime, though he keeps this thought to himself as Wei Ying rambles on.

“And I know that you’re doing all of this because you’re worried about me, but,” Wei Ying bumps his shoulder again and flashes him a bright smile “I’m alright. It’s just a fever. It’ll get better eventually.”

“Not if we don’t get food or water.”

“Jiang Cheng will be here by then.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t contradict him, doesn’t point out that he was unshakeably confident on that first night that Jiang Cheng would be back in no more than two days.

“So let’s just be patient. Just… wait here with me? It scares to death me every time you disappear somewhere.”

The irony of Wei Ying being the one to ask him to be patient doesn’t escape Lan Wangji, but he doesn’t comment on that either. “Okay.” It’s easy enough to make the promise now; his spiritual energy is all but spent, the possible escape routes are nothing more than dead ends and there’s no hope of climbing out the way they came in without ropes. There is nothing Lan Wangji can do apart from wait.