As Spring Will Surely Come 4/10

[silver_sun]

Part 4

Ice cold water rushes in again over his face and shockes back to consciousness. Gasping and shivering, Lan Wangji manages with Wei Wuxians assistance to get to the river’s edge, crawling up onto the bank.

The chill of the night air against his wet clothes is painfully cold, but it barely registers compared to the grinding agony in his shoulder. His chest burns as gasps, trying to fill his lungs, the bruising on his ribs from being crushed down against the river bed pulling impossibly tight.

He can’t breathe. He feels himself start to panic, heart hammering, blood pounding in his ears. His lungs feel heavy, his chest heaves, coughs and coughs until he is almost certain he’s going to suffocate.

Although he is shaking from the cold and his own swim in the river, Wei Wuxian pulls him as carefully as he can so that he is half laying on his lap.

“Lean forward on me, there we go, there’s nothing pressing against your chest now,” he says, as strokes Lan Wangji’s hair. “That’s it. Keep breathing. As deep as you can. I know it hurts. I grew up on the lakes of Yunmeng, we learn all about people who’ve fallen in the water. That’s it, you can cough the water out, you’ll feel better if you do. I’m here. You were underwater for so long, but you need to breathe. We all need to breathe. You’re not a fish.”

It takes a few minutes before Lan Wangji finds that his breathing, if still deeply uncomfortable, has improved enough so that the fear of choking or suffocating to death has ebbed away. He can manage now, he tells himself, he well knows how to breathe through and around pain.

Once, admittedly long ago now, there would have been a time when Wei Wuxian’s constant chatter would have annoyed him. In the time that they have been living together he has come to a deeper understanding of it: It is a defence mechanism. It’s there, for the most part, to deflect people from seeing any kind of hurt or weakness or fear.

They are two sides of the same coin. Both hiding their hurts and worries, not wishing to be an inconvenience to those close to them. Himself through frosty silence, Wei Wuxian by inane chatter.

Knowing this however means being fully aware of how worried, borderline terrified, Wei Wuxian is right now about what has happened. What so easily could have happened It’s more than Lan Wangji can bear.

Moving to a seated position hurts and uses far more energy than it has any right to, but lying in a prone position for any length of time takes his mind back to places that he doesn’t want it to go. It is a conversation they are yet to have, but now is not the time.

There is no possibility of moving his right arm, which hangs worryingly immobile at his side, but he used his left to wipe water from Wei Wuxian cheek. “Wei Ying, you are safe.”

“Of course I’m safe. What spirit can stand against me and Chenqing?” In the moonlight his eyes look red and glassy. “Lan Zhan, you scared me so much. How could you?” There is meant to be a teasing edge to it, it’s meant to ease the tension and fears, but the way Wei Wuxian’s voice cracks gives away his own fears. “I’m much too young to be a widow.”

“I’m sorry.” Closing his eyes, Lan Wangji leans forward and rests his head against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He feels sick. He’d known that the night hunt could be dangerous. He’d seen what the spirit had done, yet he’d come to face it with little planning. How could he have been so careless?

He had risked Wei Wuxian’s life as well as his own. He’d risked their future.

If the spirit had pulled Wei Wuxian into the river and trapped him there he wouldn’t have survived. It had refused to answer the qin, so how would he have fought it? How could he have rescued him? He could have lost him and it would be entirely his own fault.

He feels another bout of coughing building, water clogged lungs trying to clear themselves. It’s needed, but he knows it will make the pain in his shoulder worse. He already feels faint, but if he passes out again it will worry Wei Wuxian. He can’t cause him any more worry. He’d promised to himself that he would protect him in every way he can, that he would never be a source of sadness or worry for him, that he would never doubt him or cause him distress.

He chokes on the cough as he tries to suppress it, the sound coming out as something far too close to a sob for comfort.

“Please don’t cry! You’re safe now. If you cry I’m going to start too. Then where will we be?” Wei Wuxian’s voice sounds wrecked, as if he has already been weeping. “It’s alright, Lan Zhan. I’m here. You’re here. Both of us. We’re both here. No one else is going to get hurt.”

Head pounding and uncertain if he is going to stay conscious, Lan Wangji can only manage a weak nod in reply.

“We need to get back to the inn,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding more certain now he has decided on a course of action. “We can get warm and send for a doctor. You’re going to be alright. A few days and we’ll be back home.”

The walk to the mill had taken barely twenty minutes on the way there. Walking for that long now sounds like torture. Yet there is no other choice. They are much too far away to send up a distress flare that would be seen by anyone in the Cloud Recesses. Even Wen Ning, who would come whenever Wei Wuxian called, was too far distant at the moment, travelling the lands that had once belonged to the Quishan Wen sect. Neither would anyone from Luhe be close - everyone from the village avoided the mill at night.

“Wait a moment!” Wei Wuxian says, before grabbing the soaking wet hem of his under robe. It only takes him a moment to tear a long strip from it. “You need a sling for your arm. It will feel better like that.”

It doesn’t. The pain is unrelenting despite the fact his fingers are feeling increasingly numb, and it is all Lan Wangji can do to remain stoically silent while the sling is positioned and tied.

You have walked far further with a broken leg, Lan Wangji tells himself. You have flown from Gusu to Yiling and back again, the disciple whip injuries raw and burning with fever. Do not doubt your ability to endure. You are able to do this. You have to do this.

He grits his teeth as they stand, pulling energy from his golden core in an effort to remain conscious and mobile. He still sways on his feet, off balance and dizzy. Without a word, Wei Wuxian puts an arm about his waist, holding him close.

Even with the sling that Wei Wuxian has made, his shoulder grates and grinds against the edge of the socket in which it should sit. His bruised ribs and abused lungs creak and rattle with each breath, while blood seeps sluggishly from the torn skin on back, the long healed whip scars ripped open. The cold is disorientating too, he feels dizzy from it, thoughts growing slow and sluggish. He’s stopped shivering, but he can’t bring to mind why that might not be a good thing.

Beside him Wei Wuxian looks ghost-pale. Half frozen from the cold, his clothes dripping river water, he’s exhausted from having destroyed the spirit using Chenqing.

They are stumbling, leaning against each other to stay on their feet by the time they reach the inn, and stagger inside.

There is a brief moment when Lan Wangji is aware that the innkeeper and the other patrons of the inn are staring at their battered and bedraggled appearance, before another wave of dizziness hits him and his legs buckle beneath him.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian drops to the floor beside him, gathering him into his arms. “We’ve got back to the inn. It’s going to be okay now. Please.”

There is a look of panic on the innkeeper’s face at what is going on in his otherwise respectable inn, and the other patrons start talking, speculating on what must have happened.

“Room. Our room. We need to rest.” It’s distressing, Lan Wangji finds, to hear how weak his voice sounds, how disjointed and unlike himself it is. His mind feels like it’s drifting, he can only grab words as they float by. It’s too cold. The water will freeze. Then they won’t float and he won’t be able to say anything.

He drifts, not quite unconscious, but somewhere on the edge of it, as Wei Wuxian tries to move him to a sitting position as he’d done on the river bank.

“Yongqiang!” the innkeeper calls, beckoning over a large man who’d been sitting with a group of farm workers at one of the tables. “Don’t just sit there, give your uncle a hand to help these young masters to their room. Your next jar of wine will be on the house.”

“I’ll help without that, shushu,” he says, getting up and walking over. “You know I will.”

Supported between Wei Wuxian and Yongqiang, Lan Wangji is half walked half carried to their room. It is embarrassing, he thinks, to be carried like this. He is the one who is supposed to protect people, the one who gets them to safety, he shouldn’t need this.

The room seems to spin even while he is laying on the bed. He should get up and remove his wet clothing. Remove his outdoor footwear too. He should display good manners at all times.

“Uncle has sent one of the serving girls to fetch Doctor Hui,” Yongqiang says to Wei Wuxian. “If he’s home he’ll come quickly, he doesn’t live far.”

“If he’s not? Is there anyone else?”

“If he’s not, I’ll go and look for him.” There is a pause and then Yongqiang adds. “Don’t think badly of Luhe village, young masters. We are only a small place, so we only have one doctor.”

Wei Wuxian nods, but looks far from happy about it.

“I’ll get some hot water sent up and an extra charcoal brazier for the room. It won’t take long.”

With Yongqiang gone, Wei Wuxian sits down on the edge of the bed next to him, and strokes his hair. “It’s going to be alright, did you hear that? There’s a doctor on the way. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji manages in agreement.

“You should get out of those wet clothes before the doctor comes or he won’t think I take very good care of you. You don’t want him to think I’m a bad husband, do you?”

“I would not let him.”

Wei Wuxian gives a short laugh, worried and relieved all at the same time. “Are you starting to feel better already?”

The honest answer is no, but neither does he feel any worse, so Lan Wangji nods, to avoid causing any more worry.

“That’s good, you had me so worried earlier. You can’t get hurt like this Lan Zhan, I can’t take it.”

Lan Wangji can feel Wei Wuxian’s hand shaking. Mostly it is from cold and exhaustion. Mostly. He knows too well how his husband will hide his fears behind jokes, teasing and flat out denial. “I will try to avoid it.”

“Good, that’s good.” Wei Wuxian rubs a hand across his eyes. “Ah how is there still water dripping from my hair?”

“Change first.” As much as Lan Wangji would like to be out of his own cold, wet clothes, he knows it will be painful and time consuming, both in getting his arm out of the sleeves and in removing the material that is drying and sticking into the wounds on his back. He cannot abide the thought of Wei Wuxian shivering in his own freezing and soaking wet clothes as he tries to help him.

“But you’re hurt, I’m only wet. It should be you first.”

“No. You will need to assist the doctor.” Stopping, he tries to fight another wave of dizziness. “Change first before he arrives.”

For a moment it seems as if Wei Wuxian is going to argue, then he pats Lan Wangji’s hand and says, “I’ll be quick.”

Despite his haste, Wei Wuxian has barely had time to shed his soaking clothes and pull on more before there is a knock at the door to their room.

Barefoot and hair untied, he opens the door. “Are you Doctor Hui?”

“Yes, young masters, I was told you were in need of urgent assistance. How can I help?”

Doctor Hui is young, only around his mid twenties, and still gangly in a way that makes him look younger still. The attempt to grow a dignified looking moustache looks like that a child might draw on while playacting.

There is a brief moment of confusion as he sees their swords leaning against a shelf by the bed, as he realises that he is going to be treating a cultivator rather than his usual patients who tended to be farm workers or shopkeepers.

“I’m alright,” he replies, taking the young doctor by the arm and pulling him into the room and over to the bed. “It’s Lan Zhan, he has hurt his shoulder and he nearly drowned.”

Doctor Hui looks at where Lan Wangji is weakly leaning against the headboard of the bed, taking in how one shoulder is dropped well below the level of the other and how his breathing is laboured. He notices too, the bloodstains on the bed where Lan Wangji had initially lain down.

He takes Lan Wangji’s pulse, which he seems satisfied with, but his expression turns to one of concern as he listens to his patient’s breathing and finds that there is little movement in his right hand and that it is colder than the rest of him.

“You will need to undress so I can treat you fully. We should start at once,” Doctor Hui says. “I can ask your friend to leave if you prefer to be…”

“My husband stays.” For all he is in need of help, Lan Wangji cannot and will not let anyone disregard Wei Wuxian.

“Your…oh right.” There is something slightly shy in Doctor Hui’s expression before he manages to hide it behind professionalism. “Well in that case,” he says to Wei Wuxian, “Would you assist your husband to undress.”

As much as Lan Wangji hates the idea of anyone apart from Wei Wuxian or his family seeing the scars, there is no choice in the matter.

It has not been many hours since the gasps and moans that he had made in that room had been ones of pleasure, now they are ones of agony as his dislocated arm is eased from his sleeves and the material that is sticking and drying in the wound on his back are removed.

Lan Wangji can feel his core surging with power, working hard to clear the water that has got into his lungs. For now there is little spare capacity for it to do anything else.

Doctor Hui looks at the dropped shoulder and the bulge at the back of it where the head of the humerus is no longer in its socket. He looks too at the lattice of old scars that cross Lan Wangji’s back and in places extend to his shoulders and sides. He looks at the scrapes and gouges left by the millwheel, where it has left river mud, fragments of wood and moss in the wounds. He presses carefully on the bruises starting to blossom across his ribs, feeling for any breaks.

Finally he nods and says, “You probably know this already, but your shoulder is the most pressing issue. So I’ll get it back in position and then, the wounds on your back can be cleaned. The longer your shoulder is left the more it is going to swell, which will make it harder to get back in position.”

Shivering with cold and pain, Lan Wangji says sharply, “Then do it.”

“I know it doesn’t feel like it,” Doctor Hui says, undeterred. “But it’s lucky you’re as cold as you are. The cold has limited the swelling to some extent and will have helped with the pain. Although I imagine it’s still giving you a good amount of discomfort.”

Discomfort is an understatement, but all Lan Wangji replies is, “Yes.”

“A lot of that should ease once it’s back in. Although getting it there will be rather unpleasant. I’ll try not to make it last too long.” Picking a folded sheet from a chest by the bed, he tests its strength for a moment, then says, “This should do nicely.”

Before he can explain what he needs it for there is another knock at the door. It is Yongqiang returning with an extra braiser and fuel for it.

“That’s good, we need a third person,” Doctor Hui says, ushering Yongqiang into the room. “Put that down there.

“For what?”

“Getting your arm back in place. It’s quite simple in theory really,” Doctor Hui says, as he hands the sheet to Yongqiang. “The sheet goes around your chest, and is held tight by Yongqiang here so you don’t move. Then I will hold the injured arm under tension and slowly rotate it to reposition it. Finally, young master Wei will need to be behind you, so he can reach your shoulder.”

He turns to Wei Wuxian. “You will need to keep firm pressure on the protrusion as I rotate his arm. Once it reaches the correct position the head of the arm bone should then pop back into its socket.”

“In theory?” Wei Wuxian says, sounding less than reassured by what Doctor Hui has said. “Do you mean you’ve not done this before?”

“I have assisted, but my teacher always made a point of saying that each time is different. The theory is sound, but each person and each situation are not the same.”

“Isn’t your teacher around? Could he come?”

“He is the capital, where I trained. I was not able to stay,” he replies, with a small sad smile. “My eventual wish for marriage such as yours would have ended my career there, and possibly more. So I am here.”

Although he feels sorry for the young doctor, Lan Wangji doesn’t want the conversion between him and Wei Wuxian to drag on. It is bad enough being half naked, his wounds and scars on display to the doctor, never mind the fact that the innkeeper's nephew is now apparently going to be a part of it all.

“Wei Ying, let him try.” All he wants is it to be over and done with, so they can be alone again. He has confidence in his cultivation level that once his shoulder is returned to its proper position it will heal.

They get into the positions Doctor Hui has asked of them and then they begin.

He feels Wei Wuxian’s hands falter slightly each time he shudders in pain. Perhaps it is selfish to want him to stay and do this, but knowing that Wei Wuxian is there helps.

All the same it feels endless. The pressure on his already aching ribs from the sheet around him pulling one way, the grinding agony of the Doctor Hui pulling on his arm as he rotates it and the even sharper pain of where Wei Wuxian is pushing down and down.

He can’t stop himself from crying out as the top of the bone moves back over the edge of the socket and returns to its correct position.

The room greys out for a moment and when it brightens once more, Wei Wuxian is holding him in his arms. Petting his hair, he is keeping him upright so that Doctor Hui can check that everything is back where it should be.

The feeling in his fingers returning in a rush, the numbness being replaced by tingling and a pins and needles sensation that for several minutes hurts as bad as the wounds on his back.

Wei Wuxian lets him hide his face in the crook of his neck and strokes his hair while he rides out the worst of the pain. Once he would have resisted such a thing, when he would have forced himself to bear everything alone and in silence.

The pain decreases as Doctor Hui had said it would, but does not disappear. He could bear it, if he had to, Lan Wangji thinks, still dizzy and slightly nauseous from it and his other injuries, as well as exhaustion from all that has happened and having been awake far longer than usual.

Leaning against Wei Wuxain, he wishes that it was all over, that this was all that needed to be done and that Doctor Hui could leave them alone now.

“I know you must want to rest now and I’d normally suggest lying down while I do this, but I’d rather you weren’t placing too much weight on that arm yet,” Doctor Hui says. He looks at a long low seat that has been placed against the wall in the corner of the room. “Do you feel well enough to sit up for a while longer?”

The truth is probably not, but the thought of lying there prone in bed, while a doctor works on the bloody, raw skin of his back has so many awful memories attached that Lan Wangji cannot bear the idea of submitting himself to it again even for a moment. “Yes.”

He holds up a hand as Doctor Hui moves closer to assist him, determined that he will do this for himself.

Standing and walking the few steps to the seat are far harder and more unpleasant than anticipated. He feels breathless even with directing as much energy as he can towards supporting them. It’s hours after he would normally sleep and he is exhausted, pain and the feeling that he can’t get a full breath only make it worse.

Two steps more and he feels the room start to tilt alarmingly, halting only when Wei Wuxian, who had moved the seat close, holds him steady and guides him to sit down.

Sitting astride the bench, with Wei Wuxian in front of him, a pile of blankets between them to support his arm, Lan Wangji leans forward across them until his forehead rests on his husband’s shoulder.

It helps, his breathing feels a little easier like this, while having his arm supported reduces the stress on the strained muscles and tendons in his shoulder. From past experience, he knows that finding positions that hurt less, rather than not at all, will be a feature of the next few days.

The scars themselves don’t bother him, there is virtually no feeling left in them. Beneath though, the muscles had been torn and twisted, while the repeated, often near fatal infections that followed his return from Yiling had caused lasting damage to the nerves so that bouts of numbness or pain have been all too frequent occurrences thereafter.

His three years of seclusion had, for the first year, been a physical necessity, while the remaining two had been a mental one. In the end he had healed. Body first, then heart and mind. At least as much as any of those things were able to heal after all he’d experience. So while his back would carry the visual representation of it for the rest of his life, so, even if hidden from the world, will his mind.

The wounds on his back now are nothing in comparison.

Having the cuts and scrapes on his back cleaned is painful, the worst being where the edge of the mill wheel had gouged across one of the deepest and most troublesome of his scars.

The comfort of having Wei Wuxian holding him makes it more bearable. It’s not that it lessens the pain, but gives him something else to focus on. It’s the knowledge that he is not alone, that he is anchored there by gentle, careful touches, which stops his mind drifting back to another time now long past.

Lan Wangji turns his head, not wanting to see the bowl of water and clothes stained red. His whole body seems to throb with exhaustion and pain.

Finally it is done. Wound clean and bandages in place.

“You’re going to have to be very careful not to tear these for the next few days, healing skin as badly scarred as yours takes more time,” Doctor Hui says, as he busies himself in taking things from his case. “Given the age of these scars, you’ll be very familiar with how the nerve and muscle pain from them feel. If you start to feel pain that's different or that’s getting worse, send for me. Otherwise I’ll come back in the evening to change the bandages.”

Even though he feels a little disconnected from everything going on, he can feel Wei Wuxian tense at Doctor Hui’s words. It had been the truth when he had told him that the scars did not hurt him and that he did not regret the actions that led to them. After all, nerves and muscles are not scars.

While Doctor Hui had worked, Yongqiang had stripped the bed of its wet and blooded covers, brought in fresh and remade it, before leaving, his assistance no longer required.

Grateful for Wei Wuxian’s steadying arm about his waist, Lan Wangji leans against him as they walk the few steps back to the bed.

Sitting on the edge of it, he waits while Wei Wuxian pays Doctor Hui, takes the medicine from him and listens to how to prepare it.

Many would think Wei Wuxian too wild and careless to be entrusted with such things. Lan Wangji knows differently and is content to leave himself in his care.

Finally they are alone. It’s late. Far later than he would normally be awake, past even the time that Wei Wuxian would join him in bed.

“Ah I must be getting old,” Wei Wuxian says sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed. “I’ve not even had any wine and I’m ready to sleep.”

It is not age. Both of them are aware of that, yet neither want to speak aloud its true cause. The exhaustion is caused by submitting his growing core to the negative forces of demonic cultivation.

“Then sleep. It is late.”

“Late for good little Lans,” Wei Wuxian replies, but starts to strip down so he can sleep. “I used to stay awake sometimes just to see the sunrise.”

“Rise early, then you will see it.”

“But where is the fun in that?”

There isn’t anything fun Lan Wangji can think of that would mean missing a whole night of sleep. Even their everyday, even if they are feeling particularly creative, doesn’t last an entire night.

Everyday.

They’ve not missed it, not even once, since that impulsive moment at the roadside. Yes, it’s not always taking Wei Ying so roughly every time - although he loves it just as much as Lan Wangji does himself. Sometimes it’s slow and soft, mouths and fingers.

“Lan Zhan? Are you alright?” Wei Wuxian asks, stroking his face. “I mean I know you’re not, but you’re not feeling worse or going to faint or anything like that are you?”

‘No.” His right arm is still much too sore to move easily, so he catches Wei Wuxian’s hand with his left and brings it to his lips, kissing the fingertips. “I may not be able to manage it tomorrow. I will try.”

“It? What do you…oh” There is a confused look on Wei Wuxian’s face for a moment, then he flushes. “You’re thinking about that even now?”

“With you, how can I not?”

Wei Wuxian laughs, impossibly fond, then leans in and kisses his cheek. “Whatever shall I do with you? You’re insatiable.”

“Do what you wish. I will not deny you.”
“Maybe when you feel better I will.” There’s something more serious in Wei Wuxian’s voice now. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to see you hurt like this ever again. I thought….” He stops and shakes his head. “Look at me talking nonsense, I told you I was tired.”

“Then sleep.” Lan Wangji won’t press him on. He knows what he was going to say and hearing it aloud won’t make things easier for either of them.

“I will. First though, you have to take the medicine Doctor Hui left for you.”

Wei Wuxian won’t ask for time to compose himself, even when he needs it, rather he will make excuses, finding things to do, to be useful, to distract himself rather than admit that he needs some time. While Lan Wangji would rather that he was honest about his needs, he knows the feeling and how it becomes impossibly hard to ask for anything like this. “Then do so.”

It’s bitter, but Lan Wangji drinks it without complaint. Then he lets Wei Wuxian brush his hair, readying him for bed and sleep.

Wrapped with bandages to cover his wounds and stabilise his shoulder, finding a comfortable position to sleep is going to be difficult. He cannot lay on his back as the pressure on the new wounds make the damaged nerves and muscles around and beneath old scars flare with such pain that sleep would be an impossibility. Nor can he abide the thought of trying to sleep on his front because of the memories it brings. Which leaves sleeping on his side. On his left side, as the right isn’t an option either.

He can feel his core thrumming with energy, working hard to help him heal, warming his still chilled body. It has its priorities and dealing with lingering breathlessness caused by near brush with drowning seems to be at the top of the list. Whether it will help or hinder the cuts and deep scratches on his back, Lan Wangji has no way of knowing. It can’t heal the scars left by the discipline whip. Nothing can, but where these new wounds cross them are uncharted territory - perhaps there might be some improvement, the new wounds taking precedence.

His aches all over, but the medicine prescribed by Doctor Hui eases it just enough that exhaustion finally wins out. Laying on his side, he leans against Wei Wuxian, drawing support and comfort from his presence, he sleeps.

Part 5 - https://silver-sun.dreamwidth.org/273128.html#cutid1