As Spring Will Surely Come 8/10

[silver_sun]

Part 8

Although it is well after the time that he should be sleeping, Lan Wangi is still awake, only recently having finished work allocated to him by his uncle. Beside him in bed, Wei Wuxian is reading the second in a series of texts about musical cultivation.

While the lingering discomfort in his shoulder has all but disappeared, which should allow him to sleep, the unsettling dreams have yet to resolve themselves. So more and more he has put off sleeping at the proper hour in favour of working or spending more time with Wei Wuxian.

The knock at the door to the Jingshi takes them by surprise.

“It’s so late, who could it be?” Wei Wuxian asks, placing down his book. Past curfew there should be no one paying them a visit without a truly urgent reason.

“Stay in bed,” Lan Wangji replies, trying to push down the rush of fear that it concerns his brother. “I will go.”

There is another knock, louder and more urgent, before he has time to reach the door.

Well wrapped up against the bitter winter cold the doctor’s apprentice, Gu Shen is waiting outside, snow fast settling on his hair.

“It is past curfew.” It seems a ridiculously obvious thing to say, but concern about what this visit means nothing else comes to mind.

“I apologise for the intrusion, Hanguang-jun, but it is an emergency. Doctor Lan sent me to wake you.”

Fear coils in his chest, rising up in his throat, threatening to cut off the air. “My brother?”

“No. It is Grandmaster Lan, he has been taken ill.”

“My uncle?” That it isn’t about his brother does nothing to ease his fears. His uncle wouldn’t ask anyone to break curfew unless the situation was extremely serious and needed immediate attention. “He requested this?”

“It is Doctor Lan’s recommendation.” There is a moment of hesitation as if Gu Shen is trying to decide if saying more would be considered to be talking behind someone’s back or gossiping. Then he says, “Grandmaster Lan’s condition is very serious. Doctor Lan is concerned that if we wait until morning it might be too late.”

The words seem to buzz in his ears, the enormity of it too much to take in. He feels disconnected from the world around him, his own voice coming from far away. “Return now, tell Doctor Lan I will come at once.”

Sagging against the edge of the door, he watches Gu Shen leave, white robes and white cloak soon lost in the swirling snow of the winter’s night.

Wei Wuxian appears behind him as soon as Gu Shen is out of sight. Wrapped in the blankets from their bed against the cold night air flooding in. He takes one look at him and puts the blanket around him as well.

“It’s much too cold to stand in an open doorway. Ah Lan Zhan, your hands are freezing, you’ll get a chill. Come back to bed.”

“Not cold.” He’s numb. Too numb to notice anything so inconsequential as weather. The doctor Gu Shen studies under is Lan Qiuyun, and Lan Wangji knows that she is not given to exaggeration in anything. If she believes that his uncle’s situation is so serious, then it is. “I have to go.”

“Go where? It’s the middle of the night. I thought that was against the rules.”

“It’s my uncle, he’s ill.” He feels faint, the worries and fears choking him. “I have to go or it may be too late.”

The words are barely spoken before Wei Wuxian wraps his arms around him, holding him tight. “Then I’m coming with you, I’ll stay out of his sight, I know he won’t want me there, but I’m not staying in bed and letting you go alone. Not if it’s this bad.”

The words ‘if he dies’ has not been spoken, but it’s clear that it is what is meant. Lan Wangji doesn’t reply, just holds Wei Wuxian tight, while the world feels like it’s crumbling away beneath his feet.

Within minutes they are both dressed and making their way through the swirling snow storm to his Uncle’s home.

Gu Shen meets them at the door, ushering them in. If he is surprised that Lan Wangji hasn’t come alone he doesn’t show it. Instead he greets him and Wei Wuxian respectfully and takes their snow covered cloaks to hang up to dry.

The air is heavy with medicinal incense, the stillness only broken by the sound of unsteady breathing. Although Wei Wuxian had said he’d wait outside of Lan Qiren’s rooms, he does not. Instead he holds Lan Wangji’s hand, trying to offer him some measure of comfort as they go in.

Lan Qiren is in bed. The cover has been pulled up to his chest, his arms resting at his sides on top of it. Eyes closed, there is a sickly pallor to his skin and an unnerving quality to his stillness.

The left side of his face droops down, so the corner of his mouth is slightly open, the air that is escaping producing the sound of uneven breathing.

He looks older and smaller than Lan Wangji has ever seen him, as if somehow this sudden illness has aged him rapidly overnight. Dressed for sleep, his hair now more grey than black, is unbound. It feels wrong to see him like this.

It takes a moment before he can speak, and even then the words seem to stick in his throat. “Will he recover?”

“It is possible. We do not know the extent of the damage yet,” Lan Qiuyun says, “But it is best to be prepared in such situations as these. Grandmaster Lan is not a young man and you must be aware that his health is not always good.”

Lan Qiren has always been a very private person and never one given to talking about himself. So while Lan Wangji is aware that his uncle has been ill on a number of occasions in the past the nature of the illness was never shared with him nor did it seem to last more than a day or two each time.

Wei Wuxian looks over at Gu Shen who is now heating water for tea, at the number of cups he has set out and then back to the door. “Aren’t you wanting for Zewu-Jun?”

“Who was sent to him?” Lan Wangji asks, concerned that his brother isn’t yet here. Although the house he is using during his seclusion is a little further from the Lan Qiren’s home than the Jingshi it is not substantially so. Surely word would have been sent to Lan Xichen first?

Lan Qiuyun pauses for a moment, then answers, “No one had been sent. The Sect Leader gave his express orders last month that he wasn’t to be disturbed for any reason. I cannot go against his wishes.”

As someone not of the Sect Leader’s immediate family Lan Qiuyun is only doing what is expected of her, and under any other circumstances Lan Wangji thinks that he would agree with her. But not in this case. He cannot believe that his brother would not wish to know.

“I will go,” Lan Wangji says, hoping he is making the right choice. He doesn’t want to leave his uncle’s side, but he doubts that anyone bar himself will be able to get Lan Xichen to leave his seclusion even temporarily. Perhaps Sizhui might, but he is not about to wake him in the middle of the night and bring him into such a distressing situation. In the morning there will be no avoiding it, but for now he can allow him a night of rest.

Grateful that he isn’t having to face this alone, Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian. “Stay with him. If he…”

“You don’t have to say it. I understand. If it comes to that I’ll come find you as fast as I can?” Letting go of his hand, Wei Wuxian hugs him tight, stopping him from saying more, “You know I will. Go on, get Zewu-jun. I’ll stay here.”

The snow is falling faster than before, swirling with the rising wind, another winter storm fast brewing as Lan Wangji hurries across the Cloud Recesses.

Whatever rules he breaks in his haste to get to his brother’s home, he no longer cares. What does it matter that he runs? That he is out after curfew? That he is improperly dressed to be where people can see him? That he is disturbing a sect leader’s seclusion? This is his uncle and his brother, and nothing in the world will keep him from doing what he needs to do.

The snow is already knee deep in the hollow where Lan Xichen’s small home is located, his clothes wet and weighted with it, but it doesn’t slow him.

The house is dark and silent, but he cannot waste even a moment to knock politely and wait for admittance. Neither he or his brother had been able to be there when they’d lost their parents. To lose their uncle too, to not be able to say a proper goodbye to the man who’d raised them is unthinkable.

Three loud knocks is all it takes to bring Lan Xichen to the door. Although he is dressed for bed, the dark hollows beneath his eyes show this is not his only recent sleepless night.

“Wangji? You’re not supposed…Whatever has happened?’

“It is our uncle.”

“What has he said?”

It is, for a moment, as if no time has passed since their youth, and Lan Xichen had listened with patience to his complaints about how his uncle was using the rebuilding of the library to keep him permanently within the boundaries of the Cloud Recesses and prevent him from travelling.

“He is unwell. Seriously so.” The sick fear that it may be past that point already feels as if it is choking him. “We must prepare for -”

Before he can finish, Lan Xichen stumbles back half a step before he crumples to the ground with a broken cry.

Hearing him weep as if their uncle has already passed on is more than Lan Wangji can bear. Dropping to his knees beside him, he pulls his brother into his arms, holding him close. He feels impossibly fragile. Wasting away, Lan Wangji’s mind unhelpfully informs him. You’ve let him do this to himself. You knew how he was and you did nothing.

Kneeling in the open doorway, heedless of the snow swirling about them, he rocks him, trying to offer what comfort he can. No words will come, because really what can he say? What comfort can he give when he can offer no reassurance that everything will be alright, because he has no way of knowing if it will be.

Lan Xichen is trembling uncontrollably, tears falling fast and unchecked, as he sobs, near incoherent apologies falling from his lips. What is clear however is that he is blaming himself for their uncle’s ill health, certain that he has caused it by going into seclusion.

“Xiongzhang, please,” Lan Wangji is not even sure what he’s asking for now, whether it is for his brother to come with him or if it is him to be alright. He feels like breaking down with him, yet what use would that be? More so now than ever, he tells himself, he has to remain strong. Because if he does not he might lose them both.

There is no time to delay further, he decides. Standing up, he pulls Lan Xichen to his feet with him and walks him inside.

The room is untidy. Partially eaten food left on the table to go stale, the brazier meant to heat the room is cold and clogged with ash.

Lan Wangji allows himself no time to dwell on it and he guides Lan Xichen over to the bed.
“Wait there. I will find what you need. You must dress warmly. Then we will go.”

There is little sign that his brother has heard him, but he does sit and wait.

Making sure that he is fully dressed will take more time than Lan Wangji is willing to spare. An outer layer to cover his nightwear, a cloak to protect him from the bitterly cold night and shoes will be enough.

Lan Xichen doesn’t resist as Lan Wangji helps him to dress, nor does he assist. He does as directed, nothing more or less, silent tears still running down his cheeks.

“I can’t,” Lan Xichen says, voice hoarse and unsteady, once his shoes are on and he realises that he will have to leave the house. “I can’t go. I can’t. I’ll make things worse. He must hate me. I ruin everything.”

“Uncle could never hate you.” Pulling him to his feet, so that he is standing in front of him, Lan Wangji wraps the cloak about his brother’s shoulders. “He misses you. As do I.”

Leaning forward, Lan Xichen sags against him, seemingly too exhausted to stand. “You miss who I was. Not this. I don’t even know who I am any more. I’m nothing.”

It is a thought that Lan Wangji had had often enough during his own seclusion, his body alight with pain and his heart filled with grief. It felt like all traces of the person he’d once been had been stripped from him and cast away, never to return. Swallowing past the lump in his throat hurts and his voice refuses to steady itself, as he says, “You are my brother.”

His brother’s hair, once well kept, is lank and tangled. Washing it and brushing it seemingly forgotten as his depression worsened. Lan Wangji strokes it all the same, letting his brother rest his head on his shoulder. “You will find yourself again. I will help you. I won’t let you go. As you never let me go.”

Clinging to Lan Wangji’s arm for support, Lan Xichen is barely on his feet by the time they reach their uncle’s home and step out of the bitter winter’s night and into the lamp light and warmth of the house.

Lan Qiuyun greets them, her shock at Lan Xichen’s appearance is clear, but she doesn’t speak it aloud. She bows, “Sect Leader, if you will follow me.”

Not wanting to risk his brother collapsing to the floor again, Lan Wangji keeps an arm around him until they reach their uncle’s bedside. He can feel how Lan Xichen is trembling, cold, exhaustion and shock making him unsteady on his feet.

Although Lan Qiren is their uncle he has been more of a father to them than their own ever had been. He had been one constant parental figure in their lives. Strict in what he believed was in their best interests, even when it conflicted with their wishes, everything that he had done was to hold together all that was left of his family. To lose him will leave a hole in their lives that can never be repaired.

---

Dawn light slowly creeps through the shutters, but there is no substantial change in Lan Qiren’s condition. He had woken briefly twice during the night. Confused and disorientated, it had been hard to tell if he was because he was still partially asleep or if it was due to damage caused by the stroke.

Exhausted, Lan Wangji stops playing, the strings of his qin blurring as he looks down at them. Wei Wuxian had brought it to him after his uncle had woken for the first time, in the hope that playing for him would help.

Whether it has or not Lan Wangji has no way of knowing. All he can do is hope. He hasn’t played for so long for a long time and his shoulder is starting to ache from it, while his eyes sting, dry and gritty from lack of sleep.

Not that he can sleep yet, he tells himself. Not until he knows if his uncle is going to be alright, and not until he sees his brother wake and eat something.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, Lan Wangji tries to push down the rising feeling of hopelessness. Give him something he can fight and he will fight it, but none of this can be solved with physical strength. He can share energy or play for them, but he knows that will not resolve his brother’s depression or grief, perhaps it will assist his uncle, but there is an equal chance that it will not.

The door behind him opens, and Lan Wangji lowers his hands, trying to compose himself.

“You’ve been here all night,” Lan Qiuyun says, as she returns carrying a tray. “You need to rest.”

“It is not time to sleep.”

“Perhaps not, but you need to eat and drink,” she replies, placing food down on the table next to him. “Your brother does also.”

He should eat, it is the proper thing to do, but worry has robbed him of any appetite.

“Grandmaster Lan has made it through the night,” she reassures him. “That is a good sign. He won’t seem like his usual self at first, when he wakes so you need to be prepared for that. He’s going to be confused and probably afraid. He may be difficult to understand and he might not understand what we are telling him.”

“Will that pass?”

The pause before Lan Qiuyun speaks confirms Lan Wangji’s worst fears. “It is too early to say. Some who suffer this recover very well, others do not. All we can do is look after him to the best of our abilities and hope that he responds to it.”

Part of Lan Wangji wants to argue that this sounds like giving up, that they should do more. Yet what more can be done than their best?

She looks at Lan Xichen who is asleep on the floor. “Grandmaster Lan’s health was the most pressing matter last night, so I did not speak to you of our Sect Leader’s wellbeing, but it does need to be addressed.”

Lan Wangji nods. He cannot deny it, but even now he cannot voice his fears about his brother’s health.

“His use of seclusion has become improper and detrimental to his health. I am aware that Grandmaster Lan had informed him of this on many of his visits, and that it had become a great source of stress to him.” She pauses for a moment, considering options and then says, “I would like him to remain here with his uncle until they both improve in health. Do you think he will agree to that?”

“He will.” Lan Wangji is aware that Lan Xichen might not initially be willing to do so, but he also knows that his brother will not refuse a request for help. He remembers from his own time in seclusion, that his brother had come and had cared for him even when he’d been deeply upset by the news of Nie Mingjue’s passing.

“Then I will leave that matter to you, Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Qiuyun replies. “Remember to tend to your own needs as well. You will be of no use to them if you do not.”

It is a harsh way to phrase it, but Lan Wangji understands her meaning. So he thanks her, and hopes that he will be able to do all that is needed of him.
 

Part 9 - https://silver-sun.dreamwidth.org/273989.html#cutid1