you are a small farmer, just trying to survive in this world. one day you wake up and your roosters are out of their cage. the names of a world famous scholar and a war criminal that’s been dead for 16 years are carved into your post. you don’t know what to do with this.
Wei Wuxian and Lan WangJi break free from the cultivation world and their clans.
Wei Wuxian is heavily injured. Lan WangJi can’t let him go.
Tags: #hurt no comfort #heavy angst #no happy ending #main character death #this is sad #some fluff #depression #delusions #alcohol abuse #kissing #blood and injuries #major character injury
Read on Ao3
Note:
This fanfiction is heavily inspired by "Blackberries in the Morning" by TinyWinterSnake on Ao3, which is based on William Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily." You can find the fanfiction here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441596
I've never read "A Rose for Emily."
Lan WangJi was supporting Wei Wuxian’s body as well as he could, but even his, almost inhumanly strength, would soon leave him. They had a long journey behind them and only heaven knew how long they would have to keep going.
The residents of the small village had spoken of a vacant house in this area. Lan WangJi fervently hoped that they would find shelter there. It was already dawn, and the two cultivators desperately needed a place to rest and tend to their wounds.
Finally, Lan WangJi spotted a building in the distance. Hidden among trees and overgrown with shrubs stood a small, old cottage. The perfect place to hide from the lurking gaze of the cultivation world.
Lan WangJi exhaled deeply in relief when he saw the dilapidated house. It was nothing special, but it would do for now.
As gingerly as his aching limbs would allow, he dragged Wei Wuxian inside. The smell of dust and dirt was in the air, but at least it was dry.
In one of the two rooms of the hut, WangJi found an old, simple bed. With the last of his strength, he lowered Wei Wuxian onto it. Bichen was carelessly tossed into a corner. Nothing mattered right now, but his Wei Ying.
Beads of sweat glistened on Wei Wuxian's pale forehead. His wounds were heavy, too deep, but WangJi did not hesitate to share his Spiritual Energy with him. He had just taken Wei Wuxian's clammy hand in his when he faltered, his bright eyes widening.
How could he have been so blind, so ignorant? Wei Wuxian was his friend, his partner, his life, and yet he had not seen it.
Maybe he didn't want to see it.
Maybe he didn't want to admit it.
How on earth had he not noticed that Wei Wuxian, his Wei Ying, no longer had a golden core. His heart could have broken here and now. Rooted to the spot, Lan WangJi stood there, his hand tightly closed around Wei Wuxian's, unable to let go of him.
Thinking back like this, it had been clear, he should have seen the signs. How had he been so blind.
That night, Lan WangJi did not let go of Wei Wuxian's hand.
The next morning, while Wei Wuxian slept, WangJi explored the area around the house. He found a small stream and filled up their bottles with clear water. A little deeper in the forest, he found herbs to help heal wounds. When he got back to the house, Wei Wuxian was still sleeping. His fever was persistent, but no longer life-threatening. In the hut WangJi found some old, dried herbs. Together with the ones he had collected before, he mixed an ointment. The scent of the plants masked the faint, foul odour that seemed to have eaten itself into the old wood of the house.
Lan WangJi sat down beside the sickbed on a small, old stool. Carefully, he had applied the ointment to Wei Wuxian's wounds and now there was nothing he could do but wait for it to take effect.
"Wei Ying," his voice was low and quiet and seemed to vibrate in the dusty air. But Wei Wuxian's eyes remained firmly shut.
The melody of the Guqin continued to resound late into the night.
The next days were similar, during daytime WangJi took care of Wei Wuxian. He went to fetch water and changed his bandages and ointment. He himself hardly ate or drank. At night, he could not find sleep. He meditated and played the Guqin for Wei Wuxian's recovery.
In quiet moments he cried.
It went on like this for a while. The days began to blur. It’s probably been weeks.
But who counts the long days between sadness and hope?
A few weeks had passed when WangJi returned from fetching water one day. It had been a day like any other. Except that he had taken another way to the spring this morning and had found a small loquat tree.
Wei Ying likes loquats, he thought.
A basket filled to the brim with yellow fruits in his hand, he opened the door of their shared house. Immediately he stopped as he heard soft footsteps. "Wei Ying?" he asked in a firm voice. Silence. Only the rustling of the wind that brushed through the leaves of the trees. Then a soft voice, so soft that WangJi almost thought he had imagined it: "Lan Zhan?".
Wei Wuxian now sat upright in his bed, his face pale and sunken. Lan Zahn regarded him warily. He would not ask him about his golden core, not now. Perhaps never.
WangJi brought him a bowl of the sweet fruits and a cup full of water. "Get well, Wei Ying," he said softly. Wei Wuxian nodded imperceptibly, his gaze blank.
That night, WangJi cried and Wuxian dried his tears with his sleeve.
WangJi took care of Wei Wuxian and day by day he seemed to be getting better. It was an uneven and long road, but they were united and that was what mattered.
WangJi started mending the house, repairing and cleaning where he could, but he couldn't get rid of the foul smell.
Wei Wuxian smiled tentatively as WangJi brought him a bowl of fresh loquats and he couldn't help but smile too, his eyes full of love. His Wei Ying was a lot quieter than usual and a little thinner than before, but the colour had finally returned to his face.
He was still his Wei Ying. It would be all right.
WangJi played the Guqin and Wei Wuxian sat in his bed reading a letter.
"What does Wen Ning write?" but Wei Wuxian just shook his head and put the piece of parchment aside. It didn't matter. They had turned away from the world of cultivators and their clans. It was the two of them against the rest of the world.
WangJi missed his friend's voice, his laughter. But he practiced patience, "Would you like something to eat? Rice and chicken? I'm going to the market in the village." Wei Wuxian shook his head. WangJi smiled gently. Loquats, it is.
At the market in the village, WangJi bought some particularly beautiful loquats from a small stall. More beautiful and juicy than any he had ever found on the tree behind their hut. The saleswoman smiled kindly at him, "Is there anything else I can do for you?". At first WangJi shook his head, but then hesitated: "Do you sell liquor?" The woman's smile grew: "Oh yes! The best in the village" Lan WangJi nodded: "My friend… loves liquor. I'll take two bottles, please." "Of course," smiling, the saleswoman took out two jugs.
Back at the hut, WangJi handed the loquats to Wuxian. He smiled gently. WangJi sat down beside him on the bed, "I brought us something else" carefully he took out the two bottles. Wei Wuxian's smile instantly widened. Mischief sparkled in his eyes.
Wei Wuxian had an empty bottle in front of him and Lan WangJi also had an empty bottle in front of him.
"Lan Zhan," The person addressed looked up, his expression glazed. "Thank you Lan Zhan. For everything you've done for me."
It had been months since Lan WangJi had heard that voice. And now in his befuddled state, he couldn't help but embrace his Wei Ying. Wei Wuxian Laughed, clear as bells, as WangJi hugged him, "My Lan Zhan, my world, my everything." WangJi held him even closer: "My soul mate."
WangJi awoke the next morning in his partner's arms. Smiling softly, he pressed a kiss to Wei Wuxian's temple. His eyes opened slowly, still sleepy he smiled at WangJi, "Morning."
They shared a kiss and started the day with a smile.
WangJi continued to work on the house and Wei Wuxian explored the surrounding area. The next few days he helped WangJi plant a small herb garden in front of the house. They both knew they couldn't stay here forever, but that didn't mean they couldn't make themselves comfortable. It couldn't mask the smell of the house. But what did that matter.
Once again WangJi found himself at the market, he had come here frequently in the last few weeks. He greeted the loquat seller with a soft hum. "loquats for the husband?" the woman smiled, WangJi nodded, a hint of red colouring his ears.
"How about we go to the market together today?", Wei Wuxian grinned. "Too dangerous. Too flashy.", his husband replied. "Oh come on," Wei Wuxian jumped up, "Just this once! It's not like I can hide here forever" His arms wrapped around Lan WangJi's waist. His ears flushed but he smiled: "Shameless".
So the two made their way into the village. The market was especially busy today. Wei Wuxian seemed excited. He took his time strolling along and examining the numerous stalls, then reached for WangJi's hand. WangJi turned to him, "Did you find something you want?" Wei Wuxian pointed to a stall that seemed to sell jewelry, WangJi looked at him questioningly.
The salesman of the jewelry stall greeted WangJi with a broad smile, "What Can I do for you?". WangJi let his eyes wander over the numerous rings, bracelets and necklaces. Wei Wuxian finally pointed to two of the necklaces. They were made of silver and each held a gemstone. One of the stones was a soft blue like the sky above, the other a fiery red, like Wei Wuxians hair tie. Like blood. WangJi nodded with a gentle smile, "We'll take these two necklaces, please." The salesman frowned for a moment, then nodded, "Of course."
WangJi could feel the vendor's gaze on his back as they continued walking. He reached for Wei Wuxian's hand.
"Red really suits you well, Lan Zhan," WangJi nodded, "Mn. Wei Ying looks very good in blue too."
Finally, they found themselves in front of the loquat stall, "Greetings!" the saleswoman beamed. WangJi nodded. "loquats for the husband?" WangJi nodded again he vaguely gestured to Wei Wuxian and introduced him. But his husband had already moved on to the next stall. The woman smiled. The loquats were free that day.
A few days later, a letter came. From Wen Ning again.
"They are coming"
Wei Wuxian and Lan WangJi packed their things. They didn't have much, but that only made their hasty departure easier.
WangJi's left hand rested on his chest, where their necklace was hidden under his robes. By his heart. His right hand held Wei Wuxian's tightly as they stepped on Bichen and rose into the air. Without looking back, they disappeared into the night.
When Jiang Cheng entered the small hut, a foul smell shot to his nose. Someone had been living here. Had made themselves comfortable. One of the younger disciples he had taken with him was retching and coughing.
They entered the second room, the smell now unbearable.
There were bowls of rotten fruit all over the room. One full and one empty bottle of liquor stood on a small table. Flies buzzed through the air.
A figure lay on a bed, black, brittle hair on a pillow, a red ribbon beside it. A sunken, blank face. Lifeless.
To like a character means to accurately understand their flaws. Modern au Nie Huaisang would use chat gpt to write his essays for him, and I don't have to like that fact to know that it's true.
As someone who has graded chatgpt essays, I don’t think this is true, only because the highest grade I have ever given one (I can’t prove they’re AI so I grade them as if they’re not) was a 70, and that person was clearly combining it with their own writing. I have yet to grade a fully AI-written paper that got a passing grade.
I think he would try it once, realize getting it to write something worth turning in is more work than writing the damn thing himself, and go back to paying Wei Ying to write his essays.
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