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Lan Wangi hadn't told him where they were going.
In fact, he hadn't told him to come along at all. Wei Wuxian had just followed him, not realising they were even going anywhere until they'd passed through Cloud Recesses' northern gate. The path they stepped onto was broad and led up and into the woods at a slight angle. The packed dirt absorbed the sound of their steps, cushioning each one with a pleasant amount of give.
He considered testing Lan Wangji, stopping in his tracks to see if he would notice, would wait for him. But before he had even gotten the chance Lan Wangji had already slowed, his head inclined slightly.
Ah. He'd stopped talking. Wei Wuxian had been babbling about something or other, and then gone unexpectedly quiet. Now he couldn't even remember what he had been saying. When Lan Wangji turned around to face him Wei Wuxian just shook his head, smiling, and fell into step next to him.
Wei Wuxian had slipped into old habits since he woke up in the jingshi, himself again if only because he'd been recognised by the only one who could. But it was all knee-jerk reaction. He felt out-of-body. Transparent and insubstantial.
The building that seemed to be Lan Wangj's living quarters was surrounded by a network of roofed passages and gated gardens like the rest of Cloud Recesses, but they were completely void of disciples. Wei Wuxian had kneeled and run a hand over the smooth, dark wooden planks, tangled his fingers in the beads hanging from the half-curtains, pressed his face to the white pebbles to look at the dusty expanse under the boards. It all felt the same against his fingers. Smelled the same. But it did little to convince him he wasn't a ghost - the lingering breath of someone who used to talk and laugh here.
Lan Wangji didnt help.
He'd aged, for one, in that inexplicable way only made clear by direct comparison. And Wei Wuxian was in a unique position to compare.
Lan Wangji had lost the baby roundness to his jaw and mouth that he'd kept far into his late teens. His skin was slightly rougher, like when you've laid a smooth river pebble out in the sun to dry. His shoulders were wider, his hair longer. He felt... slower? It was gone, that drawstring tension that had made Wei Wuxian want to tease him until he snapped when they were kids. Now he looked as he only ever did when he slept. Peaceful, except his eyes were open. It was unsettling.
No, Lan Wangi didn't help. He reminded Wei Wuxian that almost 20 years had passed, sure. That the world had moved on without him but that he was still here, in this dream dimension where everything was still and quiet and intent on reminding him of everything he had destroyed. At least the chaos of Mo manor and Jiang Cheng's whip had kept him awake and scared and real.
The light was dimming, the last sunlight licking the tops of the trees with a final strip of saturation. Wei Wuxian craned his neck to catch the last of it before it blinked away.
Lan Wangj was ahead of him again, gait straight-backed and steady. Even when the packed dirt path turned into a crooked trail braided with buried branches and rocks he never hesitated, each step intentional, gaze locked towards their mystery destination. His robes glowed a pale blue in the dark. The same bright beacon Wei Wuxian had imagined in the Burial Mounds.
It had been cold the past few days and today was no different. Wei Wuxian was wearing four layers of borrowed Lan white, but still felt a nip in his nose and the tips of his fingers. When the trail turned thinner though, the air seemed to warm. The woods felt a little denser, lush green moss climbing onto the rocks crowding the trees.
Moments later they stepped into a clearing of more packed dirt, outlined by a dry stone wall. It was hard to make out clearly in the dark, but Lan Wangji retrieved a bamboo lighting rod from a dark corner and used it to light lanterns affixed far up on the trees surrounding it.
The warm light revealed the beginning of a rock wall, recessed to form a sort of spring basin at its base. The dry stone wall hugged the spring, making it look kind of like a bathtub. The low wall was topped with square slabs of smooth rock, creating a shelf perfect for sitting.
Wei Wuxian gaped. Surely this was a luxury way beyond the Lans' utilitarian sensibilities. A secret hot-spring!
He crossed the packed dirt in two strides and stuck his hand in the water, eager to warm his cold fingers, but then immediately ripped it out with an anguished howl. The water was ice cold, impossibly even colder than the ones he had found Lan Zhan in when they were kids. He whipped around, hand cradled to his chest.
"Tsk. I should have known. I've got another rule for you since you guys seem so fond of them. How about no playing with a poor man's expectations!"
Lan Wangji had retrieved a piece of neatly folded fabric from yet another dark corner of the clearing, and as Wei Wuxian was muttering he pressed it to his hand. The fabric itself was pretty cold, but he sandwiched it between Wei Wuxians hand and the two of his, and at least now he was dry.
Wei Wuxian looked past him and made out a crude rock structure by the entrance. It was a shelf of sorts with three levels, two of them holding square netted baskets with lids. Next to it was a bench. He frowned.
"What is this place? Will you finally tell me why you brought me here?"
Lan Wangji released his hand then sat down on the slab next to him. He turned his head slowly as he looked at the water behind them.
"I visited this place often as a boy."
"Aiyoh, what a strange child." Wei Wuxian felt the urge to pat Lan Wangji's knee goodheartedly, but decided on dropping the piece of fabric in his lap instead.
"What would a young master want with an ice spring of death when he had miles of forests and streams and waterfalls to explore, eh?"
Lan Wangji considered this for a moment. A very long moment.
Wei Wuxian couldn't help grinning. "Lan Zhan-ah, Lan Zhan... You are not nearly old enough to look quite that wistful reminiscing!"
Lan Wangji looked down and there was a distinct twitch in the corner of his mouth. Wei Wuxian almost fell forward bending low trying to catch sight of it. Yes, definitely a smile. He straightened, glowing, nonsensically pleased. Can a man not appreciate the rare? In these dire times?
They sat in quiet for a bit. The water was still but made a muffled rippling sound, as if the water entered and left the pool somewhere beneath the surface.
Wei Wuxian studied his hands, one of them still angry red from the cold.
It was a strangers hands.
He'd had this thought a few times before, and every time the pain of it flashed white and sudden. Fear at first. Like seeing a face in the dark. Then confusion, and as the mind caught up, the dawning dread and grief. His hands were gone forever. His feet and knees and the mole on his knuckle.
His new hands were smaller. Phantom lengths told him that. A dry stretch in his palm. His nails were neater, paler. No mole.
A new thought came to him. Grim. Wading through muddy water, flipping over soaked robes and bloated bodies. Looking into dozens of pale faces trying to find the one he hoped he'd recognise. In the end he barely did.
If Wei Wuxian died there would be no physical trace of him left. Nothing to bury. He was an unfettered Hun soul now, piloting someone else's skin.
Would he recognise Lan Wangji's corpse? He was spiralling now. Would he be able to identify him only by his hands?
He looked at Lan Wangji's hands then. He was folding the cloth in his lap, measuring up the edges into crisp corners. His fingers were long and square, ending in broad nails trimmed short. The sight calmed him a little.
"Lan Zhan."
"Mn."
"You said he looked for me, but found no body."
Lan Wangji tensed.
Wei Wuxian smiled humorlessly. "That's not possible. I died there. I remember it."
A fizzy rush of adrenaline, like jumping from the highest ledge of the waterfall behind Lotus Pier, wind battering you into a shape meant for falling.
"They didn't find a body, but they found something. Didn't they?"
He couldn't remember the last part, but it wasn't hard to imagine. The human body can withstand a lot, but rushing towards black rock, the earth swinging you with all its might, meeting your momentum... You can't feel pain when you're no longer in the shape of a person.
He tried to imagine Jiang Cheng and the Jiang disciples in the depths of the canyon, picking their way through volcanic rock, dark and shot through with red. He would just have been part of the scenery. The idea cheered him up somehow.
"A slurry of flesh and shadow..."
Lan Wangji hadn't said anything for a long time, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Wei Wuxian considered what he had said in the jingshi, that he'd gone back himself only three years later. Why had he waited? What had he expected to find?
Maybe he had come to play for him. Inquiry.
Wei Wuxian shook his head. Ridiculous, pitiable thought. What would he ask? His cause of death was clear, Lan Wangji saw it himself. He was out of control, thoroughly corrupted by resentment and listless with grief.
Maybe he had been looking for a sign Wei Wuxian had turned into a resentful ghost. Making sure the Yiling Patriarch hadn't returned to wreck even more havoc on the common people and their protectors.
In his heart of hearts Wei Wuxian wanted to believe Lan Wangji visited the site of his death out of respect. Burned joss paper. Lamented the tragedy and loss of potential. It wasn't hard to believe because that was the kind of man Lan Wangji was. And they did have a kind of relationship, didn't they? One where the sadness wouldn't solely be because of the loss of a life, but the loss of this one in particular? Wei Wuxian would've liked to believe that.
He turned to study Lan Wangji's face, maybe to gauge somehow if it was possible or even true.
Lan Wangji's brow was in a deep frown, furrowed over his eyes so low wrinkles exploded from each corner. His face was in profile, but Wei Wuxian felt the expression as if he'd grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into him, nose to nose. He'd never seen his face do anything like this before. It was an expression he'd seen a thousand times on a thousand faces, but on Lan Wangji it looked like the lines had been carved deep into his skin with knives.
"Lan Zhan? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, what did I do? Are you angry?"
His chest moved, just barely, in an uneven rythm, as if he was finding it hard to breathe.
"I'm just curious, you see! I was there but I wasn't exactly lucid, was I?"
Wei Wuxian put his hand on Lan Wangji's forearm where it was resting in his lap. "I believe you…?"
Lan Wangji released a puff of air out of his nose.
Wei Wuxian hesitated. "What can I do?"
Lan Wangji closed his eyes and Wei Wuxian watched him control his breathing, one slow breath at a time. When he finally turned to him his face had smoothed out, but his expression was intent.
"Never speak ill of the deceased. Say your condolences to those experiencing loss." He took another breath. "Never pass directly in front of someone praying."
Wei Wuxian nodded, more to appease him than out of understanding. "Okay."
"Okay," he said again. "But I'm the one that died."
Lan Wangji shook his head. "You are flippant. It is insensitive."
"To whom? To me? Is it not my singular privilege to talk flippantly about my own death? I didn't even say anything, it was only a question!"
"To me."
Wei Wuxian frowned. "What."
Lan Wangji turned to look at him again and his expression made Wei Wuxian's heart jump. "It is insensitive to me."
Wei Wuxian blinked. It felt like his brain had stuttered to a sudden and complete halt.
"That's-…"
His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. He took a few controlled breaths, the slow rush of air an easier sensation to focus on.
"Why didn't you go with Jiang Cheng, back then?" He asked, because he had to say something. And because he was suddenly desperate to know. "...Why did you wait?"
Lan Wangji looked away. "It was difficult."
"Because of… Jiang Cheng?"
Lan Wangji blew air out of his nose again. Wei Wuxian had always read it as an expression of anger, but now he wasn't so sure. It was… a sigh? Lan Wangji was exasperated. A part of Wei Wuxian was exasperated at himself too.
"No." Lan Wangji said.
"You were sad."
"Mn."
"And the thing with the flesh and-"
Lan Wangji froze.
"Sorry. You were- That was upsetting to you?"
Lan Wangji nodded.
"I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian said again.
He didn't feel sorry. He felt a bit manic, actually. Light.
Lan Wangji was watching him, searching his face. Then he frowned, a slight movement to his brow.
"Is it strange to you, that your passing would upset me?"
Wei Wuxian laughed. It felt good after all that tension. Lan Wangji was concerned about him. Which, now the he thought about it, he might've been for a good amount of the time they had known one another. It wasn't that strange. It was a bit embarrassing, not realising it all that time, but Lan Wangji was not an easy man to read.
"No. It's not strange." Wei Wuxian reassured him. "I'm honored. And relieved."
Lan Wangji tilted his head in question.
A million memories flashed through Wei Wuxian's head. Fear, grief, anger. The docks of Lotus Pier. The primordial darkness he'd tasted in the Burial Mounds, and then met for real when his body hit the rocks below Nightless City. Jiang Yanli in her mourning clothes. His brother.
But more than anything he thought of Lan Wangji's unyielding softness. And the fragment of it that had been directed at him all along. He imagined holding it to his own chest, glowing like a core, feeling greedy and warm all over.
Wei Wuxian smiled.
"Let's go back, Lan Zhan."
"…Mn."
And they did.
**
The cool, earthy smell of the forest path gave Lan Wangji a significant sense of peace. Walking it felt like floating, so familiar was every rock and root.
The familiarity came from infinite days of guilt and teenage frustration, of fleeing, punishing his treasonous body with numbing cold. But now it was like his thoughts had sprung out of his head and inhabited this place. Manifested into the bright, formidable force of temptation that drove him here in the first place.
Wei Wuxian's red ribbon was dancing as he walked the path in front of him. Not a memory. Not a figment. If Lang Wangji reached out he would feel him. If he spoke his name he would turn to face him, smile at him.
For sixteen years he had searched for the smallest sign of the friend he had lost. A rumor. A ghost story. A tone in response, plucked invisibly on his guqin.
Anyone would say that the man in front of him had little in common with the one he'd been looking for. But Lan Wangji had searched for the smallest sign of the friend he had lost. And what he had found crackled and sparkled like more of Wei Wuxian than he thought he would ever be allowed again.
This time Lan Wangji would follow him on any path, no matter how dark.