Chapter Text
Damn, thought Wei Ying as he awoke, his mind still foggy. The last thing he remembered was the final breath of his 'little radish'—his A-Yuan, Wen Yuan, Lan Yuan, or Lan Sizhui. In his final moments, A-Yuan had been surrounded by family, in the heart of the Cloud Recesses, as the cherished sect leader of the Lan Clan.
Wei Ying took a slow, cautious breath, trying to grasp where he was now. He was lying on a bed, yet the surface beneath him felt strangely warm and damp. And then it hit him—a golden core. He felt his golden core. He blinked, opening his eyes slowly, letting the dim moonlight reveal the room around him. He found himself in the Cloud Recesses, in a room with a young Jiang Wanyin, fast asleep.
Shit, Wei Ying thought. He somehow traveled back, back to the lectures at Cloud Recesses. The very night he’d been disciplined alone with the discipline paddle for drinking alcohol with his 'friends' and met those free-running corpses.
“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “Now I’m lying in my own blood. Again.” Pushing through the soreness, he dragged himself out of bed, wincing at every movement. His body throbbed painfully, but he knew he couldn’t stay here.
Not entirely sure what to do next, he decided to sneak out to the Cold Pond to ease his wounds. The familiar chill of the night air made him shiver as he slipped through the quiet corridors, his mind racing with questions. Why have I been brought back? Why here, of all times? And why now?
"…Wei… Wei Wuxian? Why is he here? Last time, he wasn’t here…" a quiet, familiar voice whispered, tinged with disbelief.
"Qing-jie?" Wei Ying called out, his voice much too loud for the tranquil silence of the Cloud Recesses, much too loud for this hour... whatever time it was.
"What are you doing here?" Wen Qing’s voice was full of worry, her gaze fixed on him with a mix of confusion and concern.
"No, what are you doing here?" Wei Ying countered, surprise and relief mingling in his voice.
"I mean… what exactly are you doing here and now, in the Cold Pond, Wei Wuxian?" Wen Qing demanded, crossing her arms as she gave him a look that brooked no nonsense.
"Jie… I, well, I just wanted to—" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Get to the point, idiot. Don’t deflect!" Wen Qing scolded, her voice sharper now.
With a sigh, he dropped his gaze to the ground. "When I woke up, my back was bleeding… the discipline paddle reopened some of the Zidian wounds from a couple of months ago," he explained quietly.
"Turn around and take off your robe!" Wen Qing ordered, her tone both exasperated and gentle. "Don’t be startled. I’m going to apply some qi to a few places; tell me if you feel anything."
With a mix of reluctance and relief, Wei Ying turned his back to her. Wen Qing began examining the scars, ones she recognized all too well—scars she had seen in her past life but had been helpless to fully heal, with so many other lives to protect, so many battles to fight.
"Almost done… tell me, what did you feel?" she asked, glancing at him skeptically. She had half-expected him to flinch every few seconds, muttering "ouch," or complaining it was too cold or too hot. But he hadn’t reacted at all.
"Uh… it kind of tickled… a little, I think?" he mumbled, grateful he didn’t have to meet her eyes.
"Tickled? You think? Are you stupid?" Wen Qing snapped, exasperation and anger now clear in her voice. "You complete idiot. Do you have any sense of self-preservation? How can you let that insane family treat you this way? Are you a murderer? No. Are you a thief? No. Are you a traitor? Absolutely not! Then explain to me why your back is covered in scars, some of them years old, and the newest just two months ago. I can’t believe it!"
Her voice softened as she let out a frustrated sigh, her hands hovering over his injuries. "A-Ying, your nerves are damaged and two of your vertebrae are cracked. How long do you think you’ll be able to keep walking if this keeps up? Why? Why do you let yourself be whipped like this?"
"Come on, tell me, why were you whipped? We lived together long enough for you to know that silence won’t get you anywhere!" Wen Qing scolded, her voice sharp but her eyes filled with worry.
Wei Ying sighed. The better question is, why wouldn’t I be whipped? he thought. "It’s usually because I do something better than Jiang Wanyin… or worse than Jiang Wanyin. Madam Yu thinks I’m not taking my training seriously. And it’s better if I’m punished than if my shidis or shimeis are—it could actually harm them. Sometimes it’s because I was… well, mischievous—that’s fair, I guess. I’m unruly. Other times, I’m ‘ungrateful’ because I mess up, despite Madam Yu letting me live at Lotus Pier. I owe her and Uncle Jiang, for my golden core. I would have died on the streets without them. At least this way, I had food, clothes, a roof over my head." He paused, his gaze dropping, voice quieter. "And… well, there’s always the rumour that I’m the bastard of Sect Leader Jiang. Or the son of a servant. One contradicts the other, but if I ever pointed that out, she’d probably strangle me with Zidian… though…" he trailed off, thinking for a moment. "Qing-jie, how long does it actually take to be strangled?"
Wen Qing’s eyes widened as he turned to face her. She looked stunned, her face paling.
"Don’t even think about it," she breathed. "What about A-Yuan? What would happen to him?"
"He should be with his real parents. And if not… then with Hanguang-jun again." A soft smile crossed Wei Ying’s face as he spoke. "Ah—Qing-jie, you should have seen him! After my death I became a spirit I think. Attached to A-Yuan... I watched our little radish become the most precious Lan. He was so adorable in his white robes, with those chubby, well-fed cheeks and so serious. He was a real mini Hanguang-jun, my heart was melting, really. You’d have loved it," he said, clearly pleased to be steering the conversation away from himself.
Wen Qing’s face fell, her voice turning sad. "I was with A-Ning," she murmured, gently helping him slip his robe back on, wincing at his pained movements.
"Oh… I miss A-Ning," Wei Ying said softly. "But he was dead?"
"He wasn’t dead, he was held captive… Jin Guangyao, that filthy rat, along with Xue Yang, tried to turn him into a puppet. A-Ning spent years in a dungeon at Jinlintai before someone finally… well," her voice faltered. "Someone finally ended his suffering nearly two decades later. Only then could I finally pass on," Wen Qing whispered, her eyes haunted.
She sighed, composing herself. "Anyway, before we figure out what to do next, let me ask you this." Her voice hardened as she looked him straight in the eye. "Would you ever expect A-Yuan, or any child you took in, to owe you something? Would you find it acceptable for a child to suffer for the inferiority complex of an adult? Do you believe an orphan's life is worthless?"
Wei Ying shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. "No… of course not. To all three."
"Good," Wen Qing said, her relief mixed with a fierce determination. "If you’d said yes to even one of those questions, I’d have kept A-Yuan from you this time." She huffed, crossing her arms.
"Now, here’s what we’re going to do." Wen Qing leaned closer, her eyes narrowing with resolve. "And I mean we, together, because I don’t trust you to keep yourself alive on your own. Sorry not sorry—the truth can be harsh." She held up a finger. "First: no more alcohol."
Wei Ying looked up, his mouth half-open in protest, but she continued firmly. "No. Alcohol," she said, her tone final. "Your golden core is strong. Just like your… shall we say, fondness for alcohol when you're facing difficulties. And you’re, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? First rule: no more alcohol."
Wei Ying groaned, looking away, but Wen Qing pressed on, her eyes glistening with both concern and a no-nonsense attitude.
"Second: if you ever want to see A-Yuan again, leave the Jiangs. You and I both know these people are trash, even if you refuse to admit it." She gripped his shoulders, her voice rising with each sentence. "You gave your golden core to that bastard, and he still wanted to destroy you. The current sect leader lets his clan be run by a tyrant. A woman who abuses children because she’s blinded by her inferiority complex. The girl so foolish that she thinks marrying into a clan that wants to tear you down is somehow okay—don’t look at me like that! I don’t care if she loves Jin Zixuan or not. If she loved you as a brother, she wouldn’t have done this. I don't buy any of that, she can't be that blind and deaf." Wen Qing’s eyes filled with tears as she tightened her hold on his shoulders. "All four of them are trash. So leave them, Wei Ying. You don’t have to suffer because you’re good. Their insecurities are not your fault. You’ve given more than you’ll ever get back. I beg you… open your eyes and see the truth."
Wei Ying’s expression softened, but before he could respond, Wen Qing shook her head, her brow furrowing in concern once more. "And you…" She looked at him, his back still sore from the punishment he had endured. "We’re going to the Healing Pavilion at sunrise. I’m not leaving you like this. You need herbs and those wounds need to be properly treated and bandaged. You won’t be able to move properly if we don’t take care of this." Her voice softened, her eyes determined, but there was a deep tenderness in them too. "So stop pretending you don’t need help."
Wei Ying opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by her firm gaze.
"Let’s not waste time," Wen Qing continued. "I’ll apply the right herbs to help the qi circulate and then we’ll bandage you up. I’m not letting you suffer any longer than necessary, you understand? You’ve been through enough."
Wei Ying nodded reluctantly. The weight of Wen Qing’s words hung heavy in the air and despite his pain and exhaustion, a small part of him felt the warmth of her care. For a brief moment, it almost felt like home.
But that sense of calm was fleeting. There was something else on his mind, something he couldn’t shake.
From the shadows, Lan Zhan remained silent, the faintest creak of wood underfoot betraying his presence. He had been listening to the entire conversation. His grip tightened around the wooden beam in front of him and his eyes remained on Wei Ying. Despite the overwhelming emotions that stirred within him, he remained still, unseen but attentive, processing everything he had just heard.
Wei Ying and Wen Qing did not notice him, caught up in their own discussion. But the air had shifted, and Lan Zhan, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, felt the weight of his own emotions begin to crack open.
Lan Zhan walked quickly to the Jingshi, his thoughts in complete disarray. Excessive emotions, he thought, trying to school his features into calm. Too much, far too much. Every moment spent in Wei Ying’s presence seemed to unsettle something deep within him and now, after overhearing that strange conversation, the feeling was almost unbearable.
Wei Ying is… He didn’t have the words. The image of Wei Ying injured, calmly discussing his punishments as if they were a part of life, had struck Lan Zhan with a strange, painful pang. His pulse quickened, his chest tightened, but he had to keep these emotions in check. This… reaction, he told himself, is excessive. I must calm down.
How could Wei Ying speak so easily of what he endured? Lan Zhan’s jaw clenched at the thought of Wei Ying hurt like that—so casually hurt. But he had to look away, couldn’t linger on it, because each time he thought of Wei Ying in pain, a wave of anger and worry crept up, disturbing his balance.
He closed the doors of the Jingshi and tried to steady his mind, but the strange mix of emotions only surged. Wei Ying, he repeated silently, but instead of clarity, his thoughts only spiraled further. He felt his face grow warm, his heart racing. Wei Ying’s injuries, his resilience, even his laughter at his own pain, it was more than Lan Zhan knew how to process. How can he… how can he pretend it means nothing? Who did he gave his golden core? When did that happen? Who tried to harm him? WHO is A-Yuan?
A quiet shame crept over him. Why am I… concerned? Concerned to this degree? Lan Zhan closed his eyes, struggling to focus. No one had ever affected him this way, especially not with such intensity, and he did not know how to contain it.
Should I speak with brother? The thought was tempting, but as soon as it appeared, he dismissed it. He couldn’t bring this to Xichen. His brother would only tell him to treat Wei Ying as he would any other, to maintain the standards of a Lan disciple or he'd tease him to no end. Lan Zhan had tried to see Wei Ying as anyone else, but somehow, with him, he could not. Wei Ying had unsettled him, his mischief sparking irritation and something else that Lan Zhan could not name. But now, Wei Ying's pain, his vulnerability… it was something entirely different.
Lan Zhan’s fingers dug into his robes, his breath unsteady. I need to control this, he thought. I cannot let myself feel this much. These emotions more than he knew how to deal with. Wei Ying was just… Wei Ying. And yet, he wasn’t.
How could Wei Ying be the source of such chaos in him? He is reckless, unrestrained, Lan Zhan reminded himself, but those thoughts felt hollow now, an excuse to ignore what he couldn’t understand. Wei Ying wasn’t supposed to be important to him. And yet… feelings remained, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t dismiss.
Should I tell Uncle? But he knew that was impossible. Uncle would scold him, tell him that he should not let any individual, especially someone unruly as Wei Ying, draw such a response. That the intensity, the disturbance, was unacceptable.
Then why can’t I let it go? His grip on his robes tightened. He couldn’t fathom why Wei Ying, of all people, should make him feel so deeply, so disruptively. With anyone else, he could be still, composed, but with Wei Ying… his control slipped.
But there was one undeniable thing, even if he didn’t fully understand it: No one should have to suffer like that.
As dawn began to paint the sky over the Cloud Recesses, the low, clear chime of the Mao-gong resonated through the tranquil grounds, marking the arrival of a new day. Its echo was almost soothing, even to Wei Ying, who shifted gingerly beside Wen Qing.
“Do you think you can walk? I mean… without too much pain?” Wen Qing asked, giving him a searching look. The healing pavilion wasn’t far, perhaps a ten-minute walk, but his condition worried her.
Wei Ying shot her a mischievous grin, despite everything. “Oh, I’ll manage. It’s not like you could carry me there.” He raised his eyebrows in playful challenge.
Wen Qing rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a slight smile. “Well, I could always ask your Lan-er-gongzi to carry you instead. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind… if he’s already taken in A-Yuan, like you told me…” She let the words linger, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Wei Ying’s face flushed faintly, but he quickly looked away, feigning exasperation. “That’s a problem for another time, please, Jie, not now,” he murmured, his tone light but his steps cautious as he leaned on her arm for support and hobbled toward the healing pavilion.
Inside the pavilion, the healers gasped when they saw him, their expressions going from shock to swift action. A senior healer immediately administered a mild sedative and Wei Ying’s body relaxed under its effects. As his wounds were carefully cleaned, treated, and bandaged, they moved him gently onto a cushioned bed to rest.
When he woke later that morning, Wen Qing was seated by his side, watching over him like a silent sentinel. She leaned closer as he stirred, telling him that the Lan healers were deeply concerned but relieved that his meridians seemed unaffected. Wei Ying sighed in relief, and after a few moments, their conversation drifted back to lighter topics, both of them feeling oddly comfortable in the quiet sanctuary of the pavilion.
But just as Wei Ying was beginning to settle, he suddenly felt the familiar presence of Jiang Cheng approaching, his martial brother’s fiery energy unmistakable even from a distance.
"Jie, please, I’ll pretend to be asleep," he whispered hurriedly. "Cover for me. I… I can’t talk to him. Not yet."
Wen Qing nodded, her gaze softening. "Alright," she whispered back. "Leave it to me."
The doors burst open and before Wei Ying could even catch his breath, Jiang Cheng’s voice sliced through the calm of the pavilion like a blade. "WEI WUXI—"
"Shut up." Wen Qing’s voice was icy, entirely devoid of the respect most people offered the Jiang sect heir.
Jiang Cheng froze, his eyes narrowing in fury. “Who do you think you are?”
“Someone with a balanced temperament who happens to be treating the wounds of the Jiang sect head disciple,” Wen Qing shot back, her tone level but unyielding. “The wounds you somehow overlooked, it seems. But no matter. I’ll have to ask you to leave. The patient needs rest and you’re disturbing it. Feel free to return later… when he’s awake.”
Jiang Cheng’s face twisted with irritation. He took a menacing step forward. “Wei Wuxian,” he snapped, “do you know what an embarrassment you’re making of the Jiang clan? Lying around here, acting weak. Do you plan to avoid training? Everyone else can manage it, but you—you would just bring us shame! Mother was right.”
Wen Qing’s gaze grew icy. “Then please, by all means, continue berating him here while he’s sleeping, barely able to move from those very wounds.”
Jiang Cheng’s face flushed a deep, furious red, his clenched fists barely containing his anger. For a moment, he looked like he might explode, but finally, he spun on his heel with a harsh, “Fine!” before storming out.
After a few beats of silence, Wen Qing looked over at Wei Ying, who slowly opened his eyes again, now gazing at her almost timidly. She raised her eyebrow. “Do you understand now?”
Wei Ying’s gaze dropped and he gave a small nod.
“Jiang-gongzi looked like an angry grape,” Wen Qing said pointedly, softening the tension and Wei Ying had to stifle his laughter. Before they could speak again, another presence entered the pavilion, one far quieter than the first.
A soft voice broke the stillness. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan whispered, his tone laced with concern.
Wei Ying’s breath hitched, startled. “Lan Zhan…” he murmured back, as if in disbelief.
Lan Zhan stepped forward, eyes steady, with a quiet intensity Wei Ying had never quite seen before. “I want to help you,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.
Wei Ying opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. The weight of it all, the pain, the night’s events and now, Lan Zhan’s earnest gaze, overwhelmed him. A tear slipped down his cheek, unbidden, and as he closed his eyes, the dam finally broke.
“Why would you help me, Lan Zhan?”