wuding | yiling.

[When Lan Zhan puts it that way, it does make him feel somewhat superstitious. Would he risk their marriage upon unstable spiritual grounds? He wouldn’t feel comfortable marrying him in the Burial Mounds itself, but does that extend to all of Yiling?]

It’s more like Yiling will be blessed by our marriage, huh? I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to marry you all over the world, but maybe we’ll see how we feel after we’ve finished what we came here to do.

[Along the way, Wei Wuxian spares Lan Zhan anecdotes about A-Yuan’s exploits as the youngest member of their group. He doesn’t have as many as he would otherwise like because he’d spent an unreasonable amount of his time holed up in his cave tinkering and working. Especially at first before he’d been able to restore Wen Ning’s consciousness. But he has a few cute stories to share.

As they get closer to their destination, his commentary becomes more scarce. He still points things out, but it’s more surface-level instead of personal. Until they’re finally in the territory of the Burial Mounds where the atmosphere feels heavier and the stench of the dead lingers on the breeze.

Little Apple seems displeased by the new location, so he jumps off him and has to tug him along.] Why are you like this? We’re not going back to town today, so you may as well get used to it. It’ll be safe, I promise. Here, have a bite of apple. If you want the rest, you’ll have to follow us.

[He looks at Lan Zhan, noticing at once that his hackles are up, too. He feels the hairs on the back of his own neck rise too, but he’s more used to it than either of his companions.]

Good idea.

[He hands off Little Apple’s reins and half-eaten snack so he can use Chenqing. He can feel the hum of resentment energy flowing through it even before he brings it up to his lips. His commands are simple today and the dead seem willing to listen to the message carried through the subdued notes. Rest.

He’s pleased when the shuffling slows as the spirits respond to his command. There are a lot of dead here, even more than there were when he’d lived here after so many corpses were desecrated and moved here after being stripped by Jin Guangyao from their proper burial sites. But they respond much the same way as the ghosts that came before them.

If they ever decide to cleanse the whole of the Burial Grounds, they‘ll be here for months. Today’s task alone will likely take days or even weeks.]

They’re responding to me, so that’s a good sign. Let’s get into the cave and I’ll get those wards up. If any of them get too close, I trust that you know what to do.

( The donkey and its apple surrendered, turned to Lan Wangji for safe-keeping. Wei Ying himself removed, subject to the silent whimsicality of his powers, unshackled. From a timid distance, Lan Wangji only... watches in silent wait of all that which he has been bred to disdain, cultured to question. Resentment grows and bolsters and yet never bursts, a dead weight on his shoulder.

He shudders, gut lead and iron and all things dark, and spirits coiling and winding before him. His mouth turns terse and a hard line — and then, he remembers himself. Wei Ying is not the enemy, but his single, most beloved companion. What lies before him is a show of strength, not one of competition or unkindness.

He must educate himself back into that discipline, must not waver. First, he peels away parchment, summoning the tools to crystalise a ward that enshrouds him and Wei Ying. The energies might not wish to feed off his husband, but they are unlikely to make the softest attempt, under the circumstances.

At first, he hovers, hand tender as it lands on Wei Ying's back to convey less his strength than merely his approval, leading them into the cave. It is... as he expected. A relic, struggling on its feet, massively deteriorating. Time has not spared it, nor improved its circumstances. The stench of blood sleeps long. )

Half a shichen. No more. The energies will corrupt us past — ( No sense to speak to Wei Ying, who does not believe in crafty tricks, of purity. Better: ) Efficiency. Agreed?

( His mouth seeks to shed its tension, while the rest of his body bears it. He cannot say what he will do, if Wei Ying denies him. )

[The atmosphere in the Burial Mounds is so oppressive that those without a hint of a gold core can feel the weight of it viscerally. For someone like Lan Zhan, it must be nearly overwhelming. He can see it in his husband’s posture and on his face as Wei Wuxian brings the flute away from his lips after Lan Zhan wards the two of them.

The ghosts are as settled as they’ll ever be. Some of them meandering about while others fall into dormancy. It’ll be enough to give them the time they need to prepare the cave for its visitors and the work they mean to accomplish.]

Time to get to work.

[He lets Lan Zhan guide him into the cave. It’s still light enough outside that he can see the state of it without any illuminating talismans or lanterns. He shudders a little when he hears a phantasmal welcome that prickles the back of his neck like a cold breeze. You’re home now.]

Half a shichen. [He agrees, looking around for the source of the ghostly voice. He assumes Lan Zhan hasn’t heard it.] If that includes the time it’ll take to ward the place, we won’t make any progress until later.

[They can negotiate a schedule when they take their first break. For now, he goes deeper into the cave to make sure there are no ghosts to evict before he gets started.]

Still think you’ll be able to sleep in here?

( This is his partner, his companion. The man to whom Lan Wangji owes care, consideration, the dignity of a fair response. And so, pained by his own limitations, he still murmurs as he enters the cave as if it is the mouth of madness — )

I do not know. ( A hard truth and bitter medicine. He does not think of the tarnish the admission gives to his pride. Wei Ying is his lover, yes, but also on this day, his partner in their night hunt. To lie to him is to endanger him — a fault inadmissible.

Deep inside, the cave feels — husked, gored of its entrails. Left barren, like the womb of a crone. Everywhere Lan Wangji steps, trails of resentment follow, curious and drawn to him like moths to a flame. He hears them whispering sweet nonsense in his ear, touching his arms, kissing his cheek. At times, they call out to Hanguang-Jun, darkly knowing. At others, their trembling exhalations betray their sullen anguish.

It is inevitable, when he follows one too closely to the belly of the cave, where the dregs of blood waters linger, and he looks in to see rippling, to see his broken quietude, to see his face — then Wei Ying's, as he once was. Feverishly furious, confident, strong. Repudiating him.

He kneels down, hands hovering over the waters, still recalling enough of his old cautions not to touch. So beautiful. )

[He starts by assessing the condition of his old wards, ultimately deciding he’ll need to start from scratch. He can hear Lan Zhan’s footsteps behind him going deeper into the cave. He’s not too worried about him, since he’s an excellent cultivator and night huntsman, but he remembers the way this cave in particular can chip away at the psyche.

As it is, the spirits seem exceptionally chatty. Even though he should be used to the whispers of the dead in this cave, it’s enough to raise his skin in goose flesh.

It sounds like Lan Zhan’s stopping at the blood pool. Is he using the time to investigate for their work? Curious, he follows after him.]

Lan Zhan?

[Alarmed to see Lan Zhan so close to touching the blood water, he slows his approach so as not to startle. He can almost see the expression on Lan Zhan’s face, but not quite. As worried as he is, he’s a little irritated too. He won’t have time to do any work if he has to babysit his husband. Really, he should know better than to get so close!]

What’s gotten into you?

( For a moment, he cannot peel himself away, impossibly enraptured, in awe of the cherished thing before him. Then, Wei Ying speaks again — and he murmurs his acknowledgement, slow to loosen from the waters.

He falls back, nearly. Watches, hopes, waits. Then, softly behind himself: )

Nothing. ( As if it will help. As if Lan Wangji, served the same answer, would he himself believe it. But they are not of a kind, and Wei Ying has ever surrendered more prettily to his husband's pronouncements.

With a parting look to the blood-born reflection, he scuttles close to Wei Ying, trailing after his lover's long shadow. )

Forgive me. I dallied.

[He takes a step closer, pausing when Lan Zhan moves back much less gracefully than he usually would. He knows that the spirits here are strong enough to play tricks on the living. To lure them in with promises of power, but Lan Zhan isn’t the sort of man to fall prey to that sort of thing.]

It’s a lie.

[What is? The unconvincing way Lan Zhan denies there’s something going on? Well, that’s obvious. But he’s talking about the spirits.]

They’ll make promises they can’t keep and use you up until you’re almost as dead as they are if you let ‘em. You should know that already.

[There’s only one thing that he can think of that would make Lan Zhan stumble and he doesn’t like it one bit. He reaches out and takes Lan Zhan’s hand, tugging him further from the pool and closer to him.]

You’re good?

( He bristles, the cut of Wei Ying's voice far too sharp for their typical kindness and indulgences. There is a point past which he cannot suffer his lover's appetite for cruelty, so seldom stirred. But then, Wei Ying was raised in Yunmeng, unwanted child at the door of a venom-tongued mistress. He has learned the drip of her toxicity.

Obediently, he trails after his lover, hand soft and limp in Wei Ying's grasp, attentively pursuing. Beneath his feet, gravel rolls and pebbles quake, and spirits whisper. This is how it starts, this is how he was, before.

Cold. Indifferent. Prone to rejection. The Wei Ying of them, entrapped in the blood waters Lan Wangji peers at again, to catch parting glimpses of the reflection. )

See to your work. I shall... ( And what can he do, then? ) Hold the ground.

[This had been a mistake. He doesn’t like how limply Lan Zhan’s holding his hand. He doesn’t like that he’s getting annoyed by his husband’s behavior. He doesn’t like the tendrils of resentment preying on them. He tries to resist, as he always tried, but it feels freeing to give into his negativity. Without the tiger tally, he should be able to resist for longer.

He lets go of Lan Zhan’s hand when they’re closer to the mouth of the cave. He needs to work quickly to shut out all the voices.]

If you want to do something, you could collect the old wards or see to Little Apple. It’s probably best we go back to town tonight, so we can come back tomorrow without her.

[He glances over at Lan Zhan as he takes his blank talismans out of his qiankun purse and sets them out on a convenient rock he used to use as a desk. His wards before were all demonic cultivation, but he can mix in a little traditional cultivation this time. He hopes it will make them more effective.

Maybe it will clear the air so he can feel a little more like himself again.]

( If he wants to do something. As if Lan Wangji is a burden, an attachment, a child. He feels — brittle, all at once, keenly aware that he would not have breathed such disappointment mere days gone, and that his vulnerability is only the relic of revisiting a troubled, haunted place.

Wei Ying attempted to warn him, in his own way. To remind Lan Wangji that the grounds of Yiling were the territory of troubled paths and that they chance their own undoing, tempting fate as they visit. He has only himself to blame for persisting, as he withdraws once his lover relinquishes his hand, seeking his purpose on the opposite end of the cave.

The wards, Wei Ying instructs. So be it. A simple task beneath the notice of even a skilled junior disciple. Lan Wangji still applies himself, determined to prove that he was assigned deftly and will not fail Wei Ying in his responsibilities: first, disrupting the lingering flows of energy with his own talismans. Then, collecting the parchment or wiping loose the blood seals that had sealed the wards. Finally, he eliminates the last of the residual, tainting presence with a soothing purification song on his hastily summoned guqin.

It is slow, meticulous work, repetitive. He thanks his years of training at Uncle's knee for the ability to perform it without question.

In the end, he crawls back to Wei Ying, soul fragile but mind steadied, anchored and calmed by exercise. )

Twenty-eight pieces. ( An excess, in any house but this. ) You are holding pace?

[He focuses on his work, quiet other than when he mutters nonsense to himself. He doesn’t really notice he’s doing it. He barely notices any time has gone by until Lan Zhan is back at his side. He doesn’t look up from his work, knowing that once he sets the wards, things will be better for both of them.]

Only eight are missing?

[He takes the time to gesture towards the pile of talismans at his side.] Want to start placing these where you found the others? [He can take care of any adjustments that need to be made when he’s finished with his current task — he’s well over halfway done. And all that would be left is activating them.]

Once the wards are up, the air will clear a bit.

[Unfortunately, he doesn’t notice quite yet that Lan Zhan is anything but fine.]

( Once the wards are set up. They must be, and quickly. He expedites, hand soft but swift to take control of the fresh, recently charged talismans, calculating the perimeter of their new placements before sitting each in its rightful corner.

Apart, every talisman has potential, a quiet but absurd, shrill and undeniable apart. Together, they vibrate in synchrony, the strength of their eradicative cleansing building up to purify the grounds.

It is slowly, tenuously done, but he is pleased to greet the end of it, satisfied with his arrangement. It is for Wei Ying to activate them now, unless — )

Shall I feed them my qi? ( ...unless he surrenders that duty to Lan Wangji. )

[He finishes the last of the talismans, then joins Lan Zhan in setting them into place. He skims over his husband’s work, and it’s as immaculate as expected. He takes a step towards Lan Zhan with one blank talisman in hand.]

At the same time?

[He takes a small knife out of his purse and holds it against his thumb. He just needs a drop of blood for this method of activating the talismans otherwise it would take a lot longer and he’d have to channel the resentment through his body. As it stands, he feels like it’s getting to him faster than it used to.

He signals to Lan Zhan to begin as he slices into the pad of his thumb. He smears a red streak onto the talisman paper, then blows on it to spread the range of the reagent. The air darkens as the resentment gathers then spreads across each of the talismans.]

Just weave your qi through mine. [By ‘his,’ he means the resentment qi he’s controlling.] Don’t back down if you feel any resistance.

( There is no resistance — it is a tidal, unwavering force turned hostile and immutable the moment that Lan Wangji reunites his qi with his husband's energy. Already, the union is volatile and difficult to control, Lan Wangji's qi at once eradicative and preyed upon by resentment. He feels as if he must combat both Wei Ying's power and the dark, wicked energies that coil, surrounding them, and he lacks the vigor to sustain both campaigns.

He flinches, but forces himself to stand in place, accepting Wei Ying's energy alongside his own and, as the twain bind, watching coils of resentment and spiritual debris be banished in harsh wisps that overwhelm the cave. A chill spreads, malignant, while spirits scream, wail or sob.

Don't back down. Hissing, he injects more of his qi, whiling the storm until it finally breaks, the cave rattled by gasps and spasms of raw power, Lan Wangji himself brought to one knee — before their wards finally activate, holding back the remainder. Peace, for a time. He senses, as no doubt will Wei Ying, the underlying tremors of spiritual resentment that still lingers.

His mouth feels raw, limbs cold, fingers clenched. He searches Wei Ying's face. )

You are well? ( Neither of them, he suspects, will be well for some time. )

[Controlling one type of qi takes a certain amount of focus and strength, but forcing the yin and yang energies into harmony is a different beast entirely. He's only accustomed to it because of practice, but he'd overlooked how much that practice is essential for things to go seamlessly. Lan Zhan's qi is pure and clean and it acts as a repellant more than his own qi seems to do. Does that mean that even though he's in a new body, he still has some amount of corruption from the Yin Tiger Tally? He must harbor it in his soul.

When the task is complete, he puts a hand on Lan Zhan's shoulder to steady himself when he feels a wave of lightheadedness from the sudden spiritual suppression. Still, he nods his head and meets his husband's gaze.]

Yeah. At least, I think so. That was trickier than I thought it would be, but it seems a lot quieter in here now.

[The ghosts that had been needling their way past his personal defenses are quiet now, at least. In fact, it seems stiller and more calm than it ever did when he had been here on his own. He can tell that there's still malevolence brewing in the blood pool, but his wards had never fully quieted it before, either.

He offers Lan Zhan his hand and a half-smile.]

Want to take a break before we assess the state of the blood pool?

[He doesn't want to let Lan Zhan near it without supervision after he saw how close his husband had been to touching the cursed thing.] Think you can eat? I'm not hungry myself, but we need to keep up our strength.

A break.

( He agrees, but neglects both Wei Ying's hand and his second question, faintly uncertain on his feet as he rises to evacuate the cave. His husband will follow, he knows, and bitterness refreshes him on the sharpness of Wei Ying's retorts, mere moments prior.

To their fortune, Little Apple has stayed a loyal thing, waiting obediently outside the structure as if the great tremors of resentment meant little to its leathered hide. Lan Wangji greets the donkey, content to stroke the silken spread of its mane and whisper his apologies that they delayed for so long, conveying so little. It forgives them, he supposes.

Then, finally, he turns to his husband again. Here, even among a theater of stone, crisp air in his hair, the world feels a safer, normal place. )

We underestimated the cave. ( He underestimated it. )

[It’s not like he doesn’t remember being short with Lan Zhan earlier; it’s that he doesn’t think it had been such a big deal. He’s only confused for a handful of moments when he doesn’t feel any of the warmth Lan Zhan usually spares him. His hand drops his husband’s shoulder and he follows at a sedate pace.

The air outside the cave still feels oppressive without the wards he had set up around the tiny village, but compared to the cave, it feels easier.]

Hmm? Yeah, I suppose we did. It’s grown in resentment since I lived here. [No doubt in part because of the sieges that took place.] It feels more personal now. I’m not sure if having a golden core is making it worse or better.

[He leans against the mouth of the cave and watches Lan Zhan interacting with Little Apple. Had he been too harsh? Probably. He’d been easily irritated. Scared. He’d been worried after seeing Lan Zhan at the blood pool and it came out colder than he intended.]

You’re okay? [He wants to ask about the blood pool but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea until they clear the air first.] I was a jerk.

( And is he okay? He watches Wei Ying return to himself, visibly startled, and he briefly curses his own reticence. For all his questions, he should not withdraw from his husband, a man too readily and repeatedly bereaved. Wei Ying has suffered more true tragedies than any cultivator of their generation. What is Lan Wangji's bristling, compared to that?

Instead of persisting, he nods faintly — both answering his lover's question and accepting his pronouncement — before silently holding out his hand to interest Wei Ying in the promise of affection. Whatever happened in the cave can rest there. They need not carry it with them for the rest of their afternoon. )

You performed well. ( As matters of cultivation go. And it feels somehow safer to approach this part of their day's feats, rather than their emotional upheaval. ) Regrettably, I do not believe I can withstand the corruption for extended sessions. Will require pauses.

[He relaxes when Lan Zhan offers his hand. What happened in the cave will need to be addressed eventually or their work may suffer. Their hearts, maybe, too. But for now, he’s alright with moving forward. He pushes himself off the stone and closes the distance between them with a few steps so he can take Lan Zhan’s hand in his own.]

It can get nasty in there. It should be easier on us both now, but the blood pool never rests no matter how many wards I put up.

[He squeezes Lan Zhan’s hand and brings it close for a few tender kisses.]

It would be a bad idea to try to sleep in there. We could camp out here in a pinch, but our best bet is to travel between here and town.

[He has a feeling that the blood pool is going to cause more problems than it already has. Places like that never want to be cleansed. It’s already targeting Lan Zhan. He doesn’t know exactly Lan Zhan saw when he looked in there, but the look on his face… there really could have only been one thing that would make Lan Zhan look like that.

He just hopes he can compete when the time comes.]

Should have secured the inn.

( The fault of that was his own — this time, of overestimation. Whatever his skills, they appear to pale before the ancestral curse that assails these territories, and the humbling of the past half a shichen has served him a profound, if perhaps required lesson.

In his grasp, Wei Ying's hand feels warm, lively... small. Smaller than what greeted him in the blood pool's reflection, than the man who once stood nearly shoulder to Lan Wangji's shoulder. He gazes down at the tender, thin fingers of Mo Xuanyu, then up at the inherited silver of the Jin glance. For a moment, he sees before him a perfect, if lovely stranger.

He tugs, dragging Wei Ying after him in one hand and catching Little Apple's reins in another, before gently steering both farther out toward the main road, only to introduce a few hundred steps of distance. He only stops by a small meadow in wild territory, grass already showing the coppers of the new season. After, the typical practicalities: blankets, a few packaged meals; he sets both down neatly, recalling to honor Little Apple with hey and water. )

If you will not eat, rest. Our strength, beloved.

We’ll just have to knock on the door to the inn until someone answers when we get back to town.

[His head tilts to one side when he catches Lan Zhan looking him over. Somehow, he doesn’t get the impression it’s for an adult sort of appreciation. There’s something missing in that gaze in that moment and he feels something inside himself chip.

This was a mistake.

He lets himself be tugged along to wherever Lan Zhan is taking him. Maybe Lan Zhan has just been thinking about something else. Or maybe he’d been imagining it. It’s not like he’s perfect at recognizing his husband’s moods all the time. Maybe he’s upset about what happened in the cave, too.]

Yeah, right. I’ll try to eat something, anyway. [He sits close to where Lan Zhan is finishing setting up. There’s a chill on the breeze and he considers putting on another layer, but he doesn’t move to do it.] Lan Zhan, I’m cold.

[Will his husband offer him his warmth or the warmth of a blanket?]

( Cold, and the reaction is both meteoric and instantaneous: he reaches out, clumsy for his urgency, drawing both of Wei Ying's hands in his own to apply a hearty amount of simmering friction. With it, warmth. )

Perhaps you expended too much energy. ( And Wei Ying's body, bereft of its unnatural resource is making up its absence by draining away the supplies of his flesh, leaving him susceptible to the elements. It is no small thing, to power a drove of talismans without benefitting from the natural advantages of an overpowered core. )

You are certain we may continue today? ( They could also retreat to the inn and return with morning — extending their journey, but eliminating the likelihood of Wei Ying's sickness or exhaustion. )

[Maybe Lan Zhan has a point. This body is a lot more fragile spiritually and physically than his original body and he hasn’t had the chance to really test out how much it can take before it starts losing consciousness or spewing blood from its apertures. All he knows is that’s the last time he was here, he’d pushed himself past the point of exhaustion.

He sighs and leans into Lan Zhan’s warmth, pleased with the reassurance but kicking himself for seeking it.]

I can keep going. We don’t have to stay long or anything, but there’s a few more talismans I want to hang near the blood pool before we go back to town. It won’t take long at all. A quarter of a shi, half at the most.

[Somehow, Lan Zhan wanting to stay away from the demon quelling cave makes him feel a little better. So does the warmth he’s providing.]

I’ll prep the talismans out here, so all we’ll need to do is set and activate when we’re inside.

( No need to linger, says Wei Ying, but they both, all the same, still dally. There is a need to reassure one another through physical contact and to regroup their forces that Lan Wangji is determined not to neglect, for all it is tempting to simply walk away from their previous interaction. To pretend they were unharmed, unhindered and unchanged by the handful of minutes spent in the cave.

Drawing Wei Ying to himself again, he kneels on the blanket, coaxing his husband to rest his head in Lan Wangji's lap, if he does not wish to eat immediately. Come what may, despite the chills of the day, they should have their rest and a semblance of relaxation before resuming their exertions. )

As you lead. ( He can accept allowing Wei Ying to guide their efforts, in an environment where Lan Wangji's very qi appears antithetical to the forces on ground. )

It aches to think you dwelled in such circumstances.

[He moves closer, following Lan Zhan’s lead. He doesn’t realize how tired he is until he’s laying on the blanket next to his husband with his head comfortably elevated on his lap. He sighs out a long, heavy breath and shuffles around until he feels more comfortable on his back. This way he can look up at his husband’s lovely face.]

It was the only place I could think of that would accept the Wen remnants. It’s grown since back then, too. [He reaches up to touch Lan Zhan’s cheek.] It’s all in the past now. I’m here with you and that’s all that matters.

[It hasn’t been long since they exited the cave and every moment that passes feels clearer than the last. He had been too cocky and walked right in like he still owned the place. If he’d been smart, he would have prepared himself better. He wouldn’t have let the spirits get to him and he wouldn’t have upset Lan Zhan, either. At the very least, he could have warned his husband about some of the trickster spirits.

It’s too late now.

There’s something on his mind that he can’t shake. He thinks he knows the answer, but he needs to hear Lan Zhan say it.]

What did you see in the blood pool?

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