wuding | yiling.

[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?

( For a moment, they are permitted their slow rest, Wei Ying's head a pleasant and anchoring weight as Lan Wangji begins to gently wade his hand through his husband's tresses, releasing long, silken hair from its binds. Ah, and what toil it is to keep it so soft and ink-like, cured of its knots and coils.

His thumbs parade down to circle Wei Ying's temples, as he applies himself wholly to the task of relaxing his husband before they return to their task. If Wei Ying will not
fill his belly, let him at least replenish his forces otherwise. )

A fleeting mirage. ( A boy, beautiful and strange. His eyes shutter, brow tense and hand rigid where it crosses Wei Ying's forehead. He startles himself back to attention. )

We need not speak of it.

( He suspects they both know the truth, and that it is best left unshared between them. Surely, no good can come of mourning a living man. )

[His hand stills on Lan Zhan’s face as he considers pushing the subject. For once, he makes the sensible decision and lets sleeping dogs lie. Lan Zhan had seen him, he’s sure of it. Likely the way he used to look. These ghosts had known him for years and it would be well within their power to conjure up his image. It’s the only thing that he can think of to cause Lan Zhan to have a lapse of judgment like he had done.

He wonders, not for the first time, how much happier Lan Zhan would be if he had his original body. There’s nothing left of it, as far as he knows, so he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to recover it.]

There was a considerable amount of resentment in there. You can meditate after we eat, if you want. We won’t start the heavy work until tomorrow, so there’s plenty of time.

[He hates feeling powerless, but there’s nothing he can do to help Lan Zhan recover besides being here with him.]

( For once, the prospect of meditation neither eases nor attracts him, sensitive to the inevitability that he is only delegated the task because he has failed, horribly and unerringly, to prevent resentment from tarring him. A short nod, grudging but fairly admitting: Wei Ying speaks reason he cannot deny.

On the footsteps of that, he rights his posture, slowly starting to churn the energies within himself and to study the qi that courses through his veins, even without plunging fully into meditation. That privilege can be safeguarded for after he has finished attending to Wei Ying. )

Your husband is not the cultivator he once was. ( And to think they say Hanguang-Jun is immune to jests. ) He cannot withstand all threats as readily.

( He can be allowed a brief moment of self-pity, as he gathers back his resources and strokes his lover's hair. ) You must defend him.

[He watches Lan Zhan straighten, caressing his cheek for a few more moments before he drops his hand and rests it on his own belly instead. He feels… not good, but better the longer they’re out here. Even Little Apple’s braying and kicking are pleasantly familiar.]

You weren’t the only one who underestimated the cave. [It’s a gentle correction.] I let it get to me. Being back here… well, it’s too easy to fall back into my old ways.

[He knows that demonic cultivation can cause corruption, but it’s the first time he’s really felt it since coming back with a new body. He also tends to overestimate his tolerance for such things. He doesn’t want to be like he was anymore than he wants to deal with the other emotional side of being back here. Even now, he can almost hear A-Yuan playing and Wen Qing fussing about him taking a tumble and scraping his knees.]

But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you! I’ll keep you safe and you can keep me safe, too. We’re going to need to work together on this or we won’t make it out unscathed.

We will prevail.

( Simple, iron-clad. Voice half steel, half stone, and all of him hardened. There is an edge to him when he faces the possibility of Wei Ying's suffering, when he looks at his husband and glimpses a world in which the Yiling Patriarch is once more bled, sundered or torn.

Not him. Not again. His hand joins Wei Ying's on the gaunt stretch of his belly, trickling warmth in the wake of a friction-led, hard caress. He catches Wei Ying's fingers, curling in. )

Then I shall take my husband to bed in an inn that charges coin obscenely. Five times the going rate.

( They will make do on the coin of Cloud Recesses, satisfying their base interests. In truth, Lan Wangji spends little as acting head: nothing on opulent silks, less on jewellery. No retinue, no choice cinnabar or waxes for his seals. No gifts, no flourish.

A rare, trip of luxury can surely be permitted. )

Yeah, we will. Nothing can stop us when we work together.

[He watches Lan Zhan with a little smile, urging him mentally to be the strong, capable cultivator he knows and loves. They both stumbled earlier, but that won’t happen again. He won’t let it. As long as they tread carefully and understand the dangers of their work, they’ll finish what they set out to do.

And if they can’t fully nullify the resentment of the blood pool, they’ll get stronger and return in a few years to try again.

He lifts their hands and brings them to his mouth for a kiss.] I like the sound of that. Somewhere with warm blankets, a soft bed, and an extra large tub for soaking. You know, I never hated baths before but I didn’t enjoy them unless I felt especially filthy. You’ve made me appreciate them a lot more.

[He kisses Lan Zhan’s hand a few more times before he sighs and moves to sit up again.] If I keep laying on you like that, I’m going to fall asleep. What did we bring to eat?

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