Chapter Text
It had been two days and two nights.
Two days and two nights since their success at the Battle of Nightless City.
Two days and two nights since their defeat of Wen Ruohan, ending the murderous reign of the Qishan Wen Sect once and for all.
Two days and two nights, and Wei Ying had still not woken up.
He was breathing, and had suffered no external injuries to speak of. The Jiang clan doctor who examined him said there was no clear sign of internal injuries, either.
Yet still, he did not wake.
He, Clan Leader Jiang and Lady Jiang had all been watching over Wei Ying since, ensuring that he was never alone. Sometimes they were there together – not as friends, exactly, as Lan Wangji had never had much in the way of friends. But he and Clan Leader Jiang had spent three months together searching for him and – even though the experience did not make them friends – they were at least allies, and he was sure of their shared belief that Wei Ying must be protected at all costs.
Even from himself.
There was usually little in the way of conversation – as was Lan Wangji's way – but it was the same for Wei Ying's siblings, also, as if they too could feel the emptiness of the room, the way the silence filled all four corners without the happy timbre of Wei Ying's voice. When they did speak it was with quiet, hushed whispers, as if somehow their voices would stop Wei Ying from ever waking up.
Neither one of them was there as much as they would've like. Even with their success in battle there was much to attend to – treating their injured, burying the dead, taking stock of their remaining resources and determining their next course of action.
Nevertheless, Lan Wangji ensured that every morning and evening he was there, sitting over his guqin to play Cleansing. He was certain he knew the cause of Wei Ying's coma – the darkness he had let spread within him, through his stubborn insistence at his choice of cultivation.
He did not understand it. He did not think that he ever would.
It scared Lan Wangji more than anything he had ever known.
Among the hardest pieces of music to master, Cleansing took great concentration as he focused on the complicated finger work at the same time as he channelled his spiritual energy through the guqin – suppressing the hostile energy within Wei Ying's body and clearing the mind.
Sometimes, when he had finished – pushing aside the strain the effort had put on him – he opened his eyes to find Lady Jiang studying him curiously from across the room, as if she was never quite sure what to think of him.
It was a look he was familiar with. Very few had ever understood him.
He worried, sometimes, that that included Wei Ying.
On the evening of the third day, he was alone when there was a knock on the door. Knowing it was unlikely to be either of Wei Ying's siblings – the room had been allocated as their space, and they came and went as they pleased – he rose and opened the door.
“Hanguang Jun,” the man greeted, bowing, and Lan Wangji recognised him immediately as one of their own doctors – their best, in fact.
“Lan Bo,” he said, bowing in return.
“Zewu Jun sent me,” Lan Bo explained, confirming Lan Wangji's suspicions. “He explained that you requested me as soon as I was available. I'm sorry I could not attend earlier,” he apologised, bowing slightly again.
The man was clearly exhausted, pushed beyond limits by his hard work these past three days. “You are here now and that is what matters,” Lan Wangji told him. “When you are done here you are to take a full night's rest.”
“Thank you, Hanguang Jun,” he nodded. “Please show me to the patient.”
Lan Bo spent the next few minutes sitting on the edge of Wei Ying's sickbed, studying him carefully – his eyes, mouth, wrists. Lan Wangji offered to leave in case the doctor wished to perform a further examination, but Lan Bo deemed it unnecessary.
“I understand why you sent for me,” he explained, placing Wei Ying's arm back down on the bed. “This is not an injury to his body or mind – not in the traditional sense. It is a sickness of his spiritual power.” Lan Bo specialised in providing treatments and remedies to those who had suffered damage to their spiritual power – the very reason Lan Wangji insisted his brother send him.
“I have tried transferring my own spiritual energy to him directly,” Lan Wangji told the doctor, “and while it seems to help, it is not as effective as it once was.” That was very much the case. When he had done the same in Xuanwu Cave, it had been much clearer to him just how much the transfer of spiritual power was helping Wei Ying recover. This time, the effect had been much reduced.
Nodding at this information, Lan Bo closed his eyes and held a hand a few inches above Wei Ying's body. After some seconds, he started frowning. His other hand moved to join the first, both now hovering above Wei Ying. The frown only grew more pronounced. “This cannot be...” he muttered, appearing genuinely shocked.
Concerned, Lan Wangji took a step closer. “What's wrong?”
“I keep checking, in case I'm in error,” Lan Bo told him, finally pulling his arms back as he stood, facing Lan Wangji, “but I am not,” he said definitively.
“Explain yourself,” Lan Wangji insisted, because if there was something greater – something worse – he had to know.
“I thought to examine Young Master Wei's golden core,” Lan Bo shared quickly. “Given his low level of spiritual power, I thought it might have suffered some damage. But it's not damaged. It's not there.”
Dread crept through Lan Wangji's mind at the very idea. It could not be true. These could not be the words that he was hearing. “Repeat yourself.”
“It doesn't exist,” Lan Bo announced firmly, gesturing to Wei Ying's body, “I cannot heal the sickness of his spiritual power, because there is nothing to heal. He has no golden core.”
“Explain,” Lan Wangji demanded again, stepping closer still, Bichen materialising into his hand on instinct.
Lan Bo glanced down at the weapon but did not step back. “I cannot. I know not how or why it was removed – just that it is gone.”
Stunned, horrified, confused – Lan Wangji stared down at Wei Ying's resting form and in a rush every interaction they'd had since his return, almost every conversation they'd shared...suddenly made sense.
He knew.
But of course Wei Ying knew. It was his body, his golden core – of course he knew it was gone. No doubt the very reason for his new cultivation and all of his actions. If the cultivation world ever knew that he was mediocre they would turn their backs on him and throw him to the wolves as soon as-
His attention snapped back to the doctor. “You are to tell no one.”
Lan Bo did not seem surprised. “I take my patient's confidentiality seriously,” he announced. “In truth I should not have told even you, Hanguang Jun,” a statement that Lan Wangji found both true and displeasing, “but I was so surprised...” Shaking his head, he turned to look back down at Wei Ying in disbelief. “I can only imagine how painful it must have been.”
Nausea rose at the back of Lan Wangji's throat. “It was not destroyed by Wen Zhuliu?”
“No,” Lan Bo assured him. “I am familiar with his handiwork and Young Master Wei's golden core wasn't simply crushed or destroyed – it's just...gone.”
“Through magic or a medical procedure?”
“I'm unsure at this time,” he said honestly. “I sensed no obvious scar tissue above the area, but if the incision was small enough, if the doctor was skilled enough and had a strong enough level of spiritual cognition...”
“They could hide any evidence,” Lan Wangji concluded.
“As you say,” Lan Bo agreed.
He stared at Wei Ying's peaceful face, untouched by so much that had troubled him lately – and now he knew the cause. “Can anything be done?”
“Short of attempting a transplant myself? Which I'd give no greater than fifty per cent odds to even succeed – at best. And who would ever willingly give up their golden core? No,” Lan Bo shook his head sadly, “nothing can be done. He is mediocre, now, for the rest of his life.”
Lan Wangji said nothing more, because nothing more could be said.
After a long silence – during which he reached the same conclusion – Lan Bo excused himself and left.
The moment the door slid shut Lan Wangji folded in on himself, losing his grip on Bichen as he shakily collapsed onto the nearest flat surface – Wei Ying's bed.
His mind raced as never before as he tried to understand, tried to comprehend the how and the why. He wondered, at first, if it'd happened to him in the Burial Mounds – a place said to be so horrific that nothing of you could ever survive, not even your spirit.
Wei Ying had proven that wrong, but perhaps to survive he'd had to sacrifice his golden core?
But then he remembered a conversation with Clan Leader Jiang, during the three months Wei Ying had been missing. Where he revealed that his own core had been crushed by Wen Zhuliu and that – miraculously – his brother had located Baoshan Sanren, the one person who might be able to heal him. How he'd had to travel to the location blindfolded.
And Lan Wangji knew, then, the truth. There had been no Baoshan Sanren. No healing. Wei Ying had given up his golden core willingly because he could live with what his brother could not. Lan Wangji may not have known the details, but he was as certain of this as he was about nothing else in his life.
Wei Ying had given his golden core to his brother.
Unbidden, tears began to run down his face. He tried to stop them, but then – was this not something worth crying over? The magnitude of Wei Ying's sacrifice. Willingly making himself mediocre purely out of his love for his brother. The pain he must have endured. The taunts he faced from his brother and the other cultivators for not using Suibian. Even the disagreements Lan Wangji had with him, his own concern for Wei Ying making him angrier, more judgemental than usual.
Wei Ying had borne it all without complaint. To protect himself, yes, but – as Lan Wangji greatly suspected – more to protect his brother. Knowing this would only make Clan Leader Jiang's obvious issues with his own inferiority even worse.
No one else knew. And no one else could ever know.
The sound of the doors sliding open startled Lan Wangji into standing up, grabbing Bichen as he went. Turning around, he saw Wei Ying's sister smiling as she walked towards him.
“Second Young Master Lan, I-” Her face went pale, suddenly, the moment she saw his. “Is A-Xian-?”
“He's fine,” he promised her, looking away. He gestured to his face. “This is not-” For him, he'd been about to say, but then that would've been a lie.
Relieved, she studied her brother – perhaps to check that his chest was still rising and falling – before speaking again. “Then, Second Young Master Lan,” she asked carefully, “are you okay?”
He still did not look at her. He could only imagine what he must have looked like, crying over her brother's unconscious body. “I am simply tired,” he offered. “These last few days have been extremely taxing.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “You had the great battle, and I know that Cleansing uses a great deal of spiritual power.”
He suspected she didn't believe a word of what she was saying, but he was grateful to her for it nonetheless. “I must leave,” he announced, unable to bear the conversation any longer.
Lan Wangji had almost reached the doors when Lady Jiang spoke again.
“If you are not here when he wakes,” she told him, making him pause, “I will tell A-Xian that you were here, every day. How worried you've been. I know it will make him happy,” she said at last, and it sounded as if she might have been smiling – but Lan Wangji was already walking out the door.
He kept his head raised high as he crossed The Unclean Realm, the way he always did. He saw more than one reaction when someone caught sight of his face – the tears had stopped, but there was no denying their evidence – but he ignored them, heading straight for the only place he would find refuge right now.
As he'd hoped – and feared – Xichen was already in their room when he opened the doors. Pausing in the middle of whatever communication he was writing, Xichen carefully placed his ink brush down – until he saw Lan Wangji's face.
“Wangji,” he breathed out, rushing to his feet and quickly moving over to him. “Is Young Master Wei-?”
“He lives,” Lan Wangji interrupted, causing his brother to close his eyes in relief.
“I'm pleased to hear that,” Xichen said without rancor. “Did Lan Bo make it to you?”
“He did,” Lan Wangji confirmed. “He agrees with the Jiang clan doctor. All will be well, eventually.” The lie stuck in his gut like a blade, but it wasn't the first time he'd lied to his brother about Wei Ying – and now it wouldn't be the last.
“More good news,” Xichen smiled softly. “But if that is the case, then...” His words drifted off, the implication clear: then what has made you cry? “I have not seen you this way since our childhood.”
He'd been upset, certainly. Had had tears in his eyes, definitely. But he honestly didn't think he'd cried in all the years that had passed since their mother had died.
But though his brother had always been his greatest ally and – until Wei Ying – his only friend, there were things they didn't discuss. Lines they didn't cross.
This was one of them.
Deciding simplicity was best, Lan Wangji stared straight ahead and repeated the story he'd told before. “I am simply tired. These last few days have been extremely taxing.”
“I see.” His brother did not believe him for a second. He did not press him on it, either. “That being the case, perhaps you should retire early.”
“I had planned to,” he announced and, without a further word, crossed the room to his bed.
There were no more words for some time after that. Lan Wangji prepared for bed and extinguished the candles nearest him – but sleep did not come.
Perhaps seeing this, Xichen started talking – about the letter he was writing to the Grand Master, the success the Jin clan were already having in tracking down Wen remnants, now that they'd finally joined the fight. About Meng Yao finally being recognised by his father for his bravery and becoming Jin Guangyao instead – an outcome his brother was clearly happy with.
Lan Wangji appreciated what he was trying to do but his own thoughts were still chaotic, his mind replaying every interaction with Wei Ying since his return, all the ways he'd unintentionally hurt or judged him. He hadn't known, of course – couldn't have known – but that didn't make the truth of it any easier to bear.
He couldn't stop thinking, either, of the magnitude of the sacrifice Wei Ying had made. Multiple cultivators had lost their golden cores before, whether due to injury or illness. More still had theirs crushed by Wen Zhuliu.
Never had anyone offered their own golden cores for any of them.
“Thoughts, Wangji?” Xichen asked, startling Lan Wangji into realising his brother was now standing next to his bed. He'd been so engrossed in those thoughts that he'd missed the action completely.
Sitting up, Lan Wangji had no intention of saying anything – or if he did, certainly nothing about what he was thinking. Unfortunately for him, his brother had perfect timing and – just like with his earlier tears – the words came out unbidden.
“Xichen...what would you do for love?”
His brother's face softened and Lan Wangji knew, immediately, that Xichen thought he was talking about what he would do for Wei Ying. An understandable – if incorrect – supposition. And though his ears burned at how obvious his brother thought he was being about his feelings, he wanted to know the answer to the question all the same.
“I don't know that I could quantify it, Brother,” Xichen said gently, perching on the side of his bed. “And I suspect the answer would be different for everyone.” That was true enough. “But, if I had to give an opinion?” he asked, the corners of his eyes gentling, his mouth turning up knowingly, “I would say that searching endlessly for him for three months is probably a good start.”
Well.
Apparently this was something they talked about, after all.