As Spring Will Surely Come 5/10

[silver_sun]

Part 5

If there are dreams or nightmares that night Lan Wangji remains unaware of them, exhaustion keeping him deeply asleep until mid morning.

It is long past the hour he should normally wake, but he had not slept until well past midnight, so he is willing to be charitable to himself in this matter. Winter sun filters in through the shuttered windows of the inn and the brazier still burns to heat the room. Despite this, the blanket over him and Wei Wuxian curled against his side, he’s chilled to the bone and shivering.

He can feel his hair sticking damply to the nape of his neck, while his throat and lips are parched dry.

Fever.

Perhaps it is to be expected given the nature of the injuries that he’s received, but it’s disappointing all the same to wake up like this. He lays still watching dust motes raised into the air by the brazier drift in the thin rays of morning sun until they blur and he falls into exhausted sleep once more.

When he wakes again the room once more lit by lamp light, the evening sun having faded to almost nothing outside. Whether he’s slept through the whole day or if he’s woken previously and forgotten about it he can’t tell.

The pain in his back is worse, eclipsing the heavy congested feeling in his chest and even the ache in his shoulder. Nerves once damaged by the discipline whip burn like molten metal melting through in his skin. Inflammation and infection from the spirit infested river water that had soaked into the wounds driving the pain. There is no escape from it. No relief.

The fever is worse too. Freezing and burning at the same time, sweat beading and pooling on his skin. He can feel it gathering in dips and hollows on his skin. At his collar bones, the back on his knees and in the pitted scar on his leg where the Xuanwu of Slaughter had bitten him so many years before.

It’s hard to focus his thoughts, but he still thinks it is ridiculous that compared to the pain in his back that he should even notice this small annoyance or that it should bother him so much. But it does.

He kicks at the covers, trying to remove them, but they tangle damp and sticky against his legs.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Wei Wuxian places a wonderfully cool hand on his forehead. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

“Wei Ying.” He leans into the touch. It doesn’t help with the pain, but the comfort of knowing he is truly there makes him feel weak with relief. Dizzy with it, he thinks, the room moving like it’s a ship at sea, although that might be the fever also. “I am unwell.”

“I know you are.” Wei Wuxian strokes his hair, trying to soothe him. “My poor Lan Zhan, you had me so worried earlier.”

Earlier? What had happened earlier? Lan Wangji’s thoughts refuse to order themselves and provide him with any kind of answer.

“Don’t go back to sleep yet.” Wei Wuxian says, his hand leaving him, the dip of the thin mattress disappearing as he is no longer sitting beside him.

“Don’t go.” Lan Wangji reaches out, pain flaring worse with movement, but meets with only empty air. There had been so many times when he’d been recovering in seclusion when he’d imagined Wei Wuxian beside him, when he’d stumbled from his bed trying to chase after what was present only in his mind. Tears form, the room blurring. He can’t lose him. He can’t. He won’t survive it a second time. He has to go with him, no matter where it is, he has to follow him.

As he pushes up from the bed, forcing himself to sit, ignoring how the fragile scabbed wounds on his back open again. He tries to reach out again, the room spinning wildly as he does. “Wei Ying, don’t go, don’t leave me here alone.”

Wei Wuxian’s arms are around him in a moment, preventing him from toppling out of bed. “Stop that, don’t get up. I’m not leaving you. What a silly idea. As if I’d ever do that.”

Closing his eyes, Lan Wangji sags in Wei Wuxian’s arms. He’s not been this sick in years, not since then and he’s suddenly absolutely certain that he’s making a fool of himself. He is supposed to set a good example. He’s letting everyone down. He is a disappointment. He’s failed when people needed him, when…

“You’re not. No one thinks that. You’re so good. To me, to everyone. You really are the best.” Wei Wuxian wipes the spill of tears from his flushed cheeks. “It’s just the fever talking. It’s got you bad, hasn’t it?” Leaning in, he kisses Lan Wangji’s forehead. “You’ll be well again soon, but I want you to let me spoil you until then, yes? You’ll let me take care of you?”

He nods, the pain and fever making him feel dazed. He’d not even realised that he’d spoken those fears aloud. The only thing he is truly sure of is that he wants to make Wei Ying happy. Anything his Wei Ying wants he will give it to him.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so sweet, even now.” He strokes his hair, trying to reassure him. “There is only one thing I want and that’s for you to get better. So I want you to wait here while I get your medicine ready, no more trying to follow me and falling out of bed.”

The medicine is bitter, but Lan Wangji drinks it without complaint, as well as the water that Wei Wuxian holds carefully to his lips, not wanting to disappoint him. It takes time to work, for the searing pain that’s eating through him to dim. It doesn’t disappear entirely, but eventually it is muted enough that exhaustion wins out, and Lan Wangji falls asleep once more.

It is later that same evening when Lan Wangji wakes again, Wei Wuxian carefully waking him to let him know that Doctor Hui has arrived to check on him.

It would have been preferable to stay asleep given how awful he feels, but Lan Wangji knows that this isn’t something he can avoid. He tries to take some comfort in the fact that the medicine seems to have prevented any worsening of his condition.

All the same it is an unpleasant experience. Not that he expected having the bandages changed to be anything other. The blood has dried into the cloth and removing it dislodges the scabs, setting fresh bleeding down his back.

He doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to have to see him like this, but having him there while the injuries are cleaned helps his mind stay in the present. So he leans against him, letting him support him, shivering from pain and fever as the wounds are cleaned again and redressed.

He lets Wei Wuxian do most of the talking, replying only when Doctor Hui asks him anything directly.

Finally it is done and he is allowed to lay down once more. Despite how unwell he is feeling it is reassuring to have a doctor tell him that it isn’t a particularly surprising or worrying development, more of an expected one really, which should pass in a day or two. It seems to reassure Wei Wuxian as well, who looks as if he has barely slept.

Closing his eyes, Lan Wangji drifts on the edge of sleep, as he listens to fragments of Wei Wuxian’s conversation with Doctor Hui. There are more medicines for him to take, a blend of herbs to be mixed to form a salve for the wounds. There are instructions to try to make sure he drinks more and to eat something if he can.

---

The next day is hazy, the passage of time still distorted by illness, although not entirely absent from Lan Wangji’s mind as the previous one had been. He still spends much of it either asleep or trying or attempting to meditate to assist in the healing process. It is working, even if it is slower than he would like. So while he knows that none of what he is suffering is life threatening, it is a miserable experience all the same.

He blinks awake from where he’d fallen asleep after meditating to the sound of the door closing and Wei Wuxian returning to his bedside.

“Who visited?” he asks, feeling muddled from feverish sleep.

“Just the boy from the mill, he came by with your qin,” Wei Wuxian says, as he sits on the edge of the bed. “He was so careful with it. He’d not come sooner as he didn’t want to disturb you as he’d heard you weren’t well. He reminded me of Sizhui a little, so earnest and helpful. I bet his makes his parents proud too.”

“I left it.” Everything from the time he was dragged into the water by the spirit is jumbled. He’d been playing, asking the spirit. Then he’d turned and… The memory of icy water rushing over him makes him shudder.

“It’s not your fault. It was left on the river bank. I think it might have been in the water for a little while, but it’s alright, it’s not damaged. I didn’t think about it before. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. I know I should have. I’ll make sure it’s cleaned and tuned, so you can play when you’re well again.” He laughs, but there’s no humour, it’s shaky from exhaustion, as if it is that or cry. “It will give me something to do.”

Wei Wuxian’s temperament isn’t suited to remaining idle or passive, and he knows that it would provide him with a distraction. All the same Lan Wangji cannot place the responsibility on him, when it was his own carelessness, as he sees it, which had caused it. “Do not trouble yourself.”

“But I want to.” He takes hold of Lan Wangji’s hand. “I won’t damage it, I promise. I can’t sit here all day doing nothing.” Turning his head, Wei Wuxian looks towards the table, where the qin has been placed, and sighs. “Ah I should have worked harder on how to play healing songs on Chenqing. I could have been helping you, not sitting here doing nothing.”

Adapting things such as Rest or Cleansing to be played on another instrument is difficult. Using an instrument such as Chenqing, with its troubled history, would make it harder still. Yet he knows that in time Wei Wuxian will manage it. Lan Wangji has unshakable faith in his husband to do what others think of as impossible.

Yet where the main difficulty lies is in Wei Wuxian’s still developing core. The path that he’d developed and cultivated, coreless and desperate to survive, wasn’t suited to any kind of healing. So any attempts at playing would have to wait until the golden core in this body was strong enough to sustain the energy needed to play them with the intent of healing.

“You are helping,” he reassures him. “Do not doubt that.”

“But I could be doing more! Whenever I’ve been hurt you’ve looked after me, you’ve played for me, made sure I got better quickly.” Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sag. “What can I do?”

“You are here, that is enough.” He holds Wei Wuxain’s hand a little tighter. “Lay down beside me. I know you are tired.”

There is a pause when Lan Wangji thinks that he is going to refuse, then Wei Wuxian nods.

Neither of them sleep, but there is comfort to be found in laying down together which both of them need.

---

Another sunrise and Lan Wangji wakes to a by now familiar thrum of pain. His shoulder and back throb, the nerves inflamed so that any kind of movement is unpleasant and limited. The congested feeling in his lungs and the heat of fever have left him, leaving him weak and exhausted but fully aware of everything around him. He lies still. Around him the inn is quiet, preparations for breakfast have yet to start, the other guests still asleep.

Beside him Wei Wuxian twitches in his sleep, eyes darting beneath lids darkened by lack of sleep.

A nightmare.

Not an uncommon occurrence for either of them, but one that has been getting better the longer they have been together. After the last few days that they have had is hardly unexpected that they might resurface.

“Wei Ying.” He places a hand against the side of his cheek, stroking it gently. “I am here.”

With a strangled cry Wei Wuxian wakes, sitting bolt upright, a look of panic on his face, his whole body shaking with the horror of whatever it was he’d seen. He looks wildly around, not sure for a moment when he is, breath coming in ragged gasps, before he slumps forwards, covering his face with his hands.

A bad one then.

Moving is uncomfortable, but Lan Wangji ignores the sharp flare of pain in his shoulder as he pulls him into his arms. He cannot and will not leave him alone to suffer like this. “I’m here. You’re here.”

There is no response apart from choked back sob.

A very, very bad one.

He no longer asks what these nightmares are about. Wei Wuxian will not speak of them, but the haunted look in his eyes is enough for Lan Wangji to know that whatever it is is awful beyond anything that he will ever be able to comprehend. Instead he holds him tight until tears have ceased and Wei Wuxian stops shaking.

Wei Wuxian’s voice is still unsteady, haunted by the horrors of his mind by the time he manages to speak. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It is already morning.” Certainly well past the time when, if he were well, he’d normally be awake.

“But you still need to rest. You have to get better.”

“I am. You must rest also.” It’s an awkward and painful manoeuvre to lay back down, but Lan Wangji does so, pulling Wei Wuxian with him. “It is early. Sleep again if you can.”

There is no reply. Only Wei Wuxian laying still and quiet apart from his breathing, his face turned against Lan Wangji’s chest. Enough time passes that he wonders if he has fallen asleep again as he had suggested.

Then Wei Wuxian speaks.

“I was so scared.” His voice is quiet, as if he can’t quite believe he is saying it aloud. “When you’d been in the river for so long…” He swallows wetly. “I didn’t know if-“

“Do not speak of it.” Lan Wangji holds him tighter. He knows how hard it is for Wei Wuxian to admit fears like this, to trust anyone with an admission of vulnerability, yet what good can come of talking of this now? He wants to put it behind them, to give it no importance and no place in his mind. “It is past. You saved me. That is all that matters.”

“Not fast enough. I thought I’d lost you, like I’ve lost everyone.”

Although Lan Wangji can’t see his husband’s face, he can feel the hot, damp tears soaking through the thin underclothes he’s wearing to bed. “It was enough. I’m here because you saved me.” It hurts to move, but he strokes Wei Wuxian’s hair, hoping that he finds comfort in it. “I am here, Wei Ying. I am here. You have not lost me. Nor will you.”

“Lan Zhan.”

Curled against each other, drawing comfort from each other’s presence, they sleep once more.

---

It takes another day for Lan Wangji to feel well enough to leave the bed and a further two before Doctor Hui is satisfied that the scabs and new scar tissue on his back aren’t likely to split open again if he starts doing anything more strenuous than sitting up in bed or walking slowly around the room.

At nearly a week, it is the longest that they have been away from the Cloud Recesses since their elopement and Lan Wangji knows that his uncle will be concerned. His brother will be also if he misses another visit. Provided of course if his brother has noticed what day it is. Which given the last visit isn’t a certainty.

There is nothing that can be done about any of it, Lan Wangji decides, by staying in Luhe village. He has lingered here in bed long enough and it is time to go home.

They don’t fly non-stop back to the Cloud Recesses despite Lan Wangji’s intention to do so.

They are barely a quarter of the way into the two hour flight when the ache Lan Wangji’s shoulder and back grow too much to ignore. He had decided against using the sling while in flight, preferring both arms free to assist with balance. The lack of support, combined with the bitter cold of the windchill and the difficulty of maintaining balance in the increasingly blustery wind, increases the strain on the still injured muscles.

He draws more energy from his core and tries to ignore the growing discomfort. It helps that he is the strongest cultivator of his generation and that he has been training hard for a long time. All the same, his core is not an inexhaustible well of energy and he has been using more than usual to speed recovery.

Flying, especially with a passenger, requires a lot of power. Drawing additional energy to negate the effects of his injuries makes it harder still. He cannot stop, he tells himself, even as feels his mind and vision tunnelling. He just needs to focus.

If he keeps focused he can get home. He has to get Wei Ying home. He has to focus. If he focuses he can keep him safe. He blinks. The cold bright winter sun seems dimmed and he can almost taste the ash of the Nightless City in the air.

They are flying now. Flying high and safe. Safe. Keeping Wei Ying safe is all that matters now. Once they are safe he can rest.

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian tugs at his arm. “Stop. We need to stop.”

“No.” He feels dizzy, the low angle of the morning sun hurts his eyes. “We can’t.” His back throbs, but he has Wei Ying. He was in time. This time he was in time and he is never letting go.

“Lan Zhan, please.” Wei Wuxian stops tugging on his sleeve, and places a hand against the side of his face. “Look at me. That’s it. We need to land. Now. It’s okay. We’re safe here.”

“Safe?” It seems at odds with the fear in Wei Wuxian eyes. How can he believe it when knows that Wei Ying would sacrifice himself if it kept those he cares about safe?

“Yes. It’s okay. We just left Luhe, remember?”

Luhe. The river spirit. The inn.
It’s correct, but he’d been so sure just a moment before that the Nightless City was just behind him. What if he’s wrong again? What if they’re still in danger?

Dizzy, he feels nausea clawing at him. He closes his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to collect himself.

“Hey! Lan Zhan, don’t do that. Keep looking at me.”

There is something close to panic in Wei Wuxian’s voice now, and Lan Wangji feels Bichen dipping and weaving beneath them. He’s losing control. He opens his eyes and they water in the light.

“Come on, Lan Zhan, that’s it. We can land soon. I saw a little tea stall I really want to try. You’ll like it too. I know you will.”

He keeps talking until they reach the ground. The landing is less than graceful, but it is controlled enough that they don’t plummet and finally they both step down from Bichen with no damage taken.

Lan Wangji is aware he is shaking. He can feel it, yet it almost feels like he is watching someone else. Shivering almost violently. He feels frozen. As cold as he was when he crawled from the river. Colder perhaps. Was the spirit still attacking him? Were they under attack? Or cursed? He calls Bichen to his hand, holding it ready.

“Come on, let’s sit here for a moment,” Wei Wuxian says, leading him over to a fallen tree. “My legs are so tired, Lan Zhan, yours must be too.”

He sits down, legs suddenly not seeming to want to support him. He doesn’t resist as Wei Wuxian takes Bichen from him, placing it back in its sheath, before returning it to him.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, first patting Lan Wangji’s knee, then holding his hand. “I bet your rabbits would like it here too. Lots of plants and trees and green things. They’d eat so much and get so fat. Then they’d have lots of fat little babies. They’d be so cute, wouldn’t they?”

Lan Wangji nods, not able to do more for the moment, his throat feels tight. He feels Wei Wuxian’s hand tighten on his, holding him here so he doesn’t drift off again. He listens to him talk of everything and nothing, just something else to keep him present.

It is strange to be the one being taken care of. Nice, despite how awful things have just been. He feels guilty for liking it. For needing it. He is the one who protects. Wei Wuxian had given so much of himself to protect those around him, that Lan Wangji wants him to never feel like he has to do that ever again.

“Do you want to go to the tea stall now?” Wei Wuxian asks, once Lan Wangji’s hand no longer trembles against his own. “A hot drink is good on a cold day, don’t you think? Wine would be better, but tea is good too.”

He knows Wei Wuxian is only humouring him by pretending to be tired - he must have been concerned by what had happened. Yet what can he say? How can he admit that he became lost in his own memories? That he lost control? That he hadn’t known where he was? That he could have crashed and hurt them both?

That in the midst of what had happened in the air, Wei Wuxian had not only seen the tea stall, but had thought to use it as a reason to land, to give him something else to focus on, amazes him.

Yet isn’t that how Wei Wuxian has always been? He thinks. Noticing things which others miss, constantly alert to his surroundings, thinking how it can be used.

Because he has had to live on his wits. On the street as a child, during the battles of the sunshot campaign and after as an outcast from society in the Burial Mounds. Do you really still want him to feel like that? Like he has to be on alert at all times? That he cannot rely on you?

Although he doesn’t really want to move or go to drink tea and be around other people, Lan Wangji stands and says, “It is too early for wine. We will have tea.”

A short time later they sit at the small roadside tea stall, drinking the barley tea that the elderly woman who runs it is selling to passing travellers.

It’s hot, that is as much as Lan Wangji can say about it. He barely tastes it, his mind still preoccupied by what has happened and with the fear that it could do so again. There have been enough times over the years when he’s woken from nightmares, convinced that he was somewhere or some when else, but for such a thing to happen while he is awake is new.

It was due to the combination of pain and tiredness while flying, nothing more or less, he tells himself. If he is careful it will not happen again.

“Are you feeling any better?” Wei Wuxian places his hand over his, stroking the side of it with his thumb. “If you don’t feel well you know we can stop. We don’t have to go back today. We can find another inn. I’m sure the nice old aunty who owns the tea stand will know where the nearest one is.”

Lan Wangji nods and then shakes his head. He feels chilled and a little shivery, but no longer frozen. Mostly he feels stupid. It isn’t justified, but he cannot stop himself. He had lost control of himself and placed them both in danger because of it. He would rather that Wei Wuxian was angry at him than looking at him with such open concern and worry.

“What do you want to do? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

He’s cold, aching and abysmally tired, but he feels in control of himself once more. “I am well,” he reassures him, certain that he’s caused him far too much worry over the last few days. “We will return home.”

Part 6 - https://silver-sun.dreamwidth.org/273296.html#cutid1