Wen Qionglin had come to the jingshi a couple of weeks ago – not a particularly unusual occurrence, as he often visited Wei Ying and Sizhui – but this time, when he sat across the table, watching Wei Ying and Lan Wangji drink tea, there was a... subdued air about him.
Wei Ying, ever watchful, was more boisterous than usual, filling the somber silence with more laughter and more gossip.
“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Qionglin had said suddenly, and something about the way he said it let Lan Wangji know that he had been working up the courage. “I – I have a request.”
The forced smile dripped off of Wei Ying’s lips and he had leveled Wen Qionglin with a sober gaze – as if he already knew what Wen Qionglin was going to request. “Must you leave?” Wei Ying had asked quietly, and Lan Wangji had been lost. Hadn’t known what Wei Ying had meant by his request.
Wen Qionglin had let out a little sigh and looked down at the table – seemingly unable to meet Wei Ying’s eyes. “I will always be grateful to you, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Qionglin had said steadily, his fists clenched resolutely, “It has been my honor to serve you. But my sister is waiting for me, and I’ve made her wait a long time.”
Ah, Lan Wangji had thought. He understood now.
Wei Ying’s face betrayed no emotion, but his fists had clenched tightly by his side. They had clenched so tightly that they were shaking. Lan Wangji had placed his hand over his husband’s – it was the only comfort he could offer him.
“Don’t say you’re grateful,” Wei Ying had said, his voice tight, “I’ve done nothing for you to be grateful for.”
Wen Qionglin had looked up then, and though he could no longer smile, there was something about his expression that made it look as if he were smiling. “Of course I’m grateful, Wei-gongzi. You’ve already given me so much. I’m sorry that I have to ask for this one last request.”
Wei Ying had turned his head then, waving his hand in the air as if he could wave away the gratitude. “Fine,” he had said roughly, “you’re right. I have kept you from Wen Qing for too long.”
Wen Qionglin had stood then and bowed. “Thank you, Wei-gongzi. I will be back in a couple of weeks.”
When Wen Qionglin had left the jingshi, Lan Wangji had pulled Wei Ying into his arms. Cradled Wei Ying head in his palms and tried to comfort him in the few ways he knew how.
“I’m fine,” Wei Ying had said – and Lan Wangji knew he was lying, but did not call him out. “I’m fine.”
Wei Ying did not cry then, and he does not cry now.
They are in Qishan, the graves of the Wen family behind them. Sizhui is silent and trembling beside Wangji. Fat tears are falling down his face but he makes no sound.
Wen Qionglin looks at Sizhui, and though he cannot cry, his eyes are sadder than Wangji can ever recall seeing them. “A-Yuan,” Wen Qionglin says gently, “Our family will be delighted to hear about how wonderful you grew up to be. I know I have to right to ask this, but I hope you will be my cousin in the next life as well.”
Sizhui bows then, letting out a choked sob. “Of course,” he cries, fat tears hitting the dry ground, “Please tell them that I’m doing well and that I miss them.”
Wen Qionglin nods and turns to Lan Wangji. “Hanguang-jun,” he bows, “thank you for saving A-Yuan. I only ask that you continue to take care of him when I’m gone.”
“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, returning the bow.
Wen Qionglin turns to Wei Ying then and nods.
“Alright, alright,” Wei Ying grins, twirling Chengqing in his fingers. He throws an arm over Wen Qionglin’s shoulders and starts walking towards the graveyard. “Come on now, Wen Qing is probably already cursing me out for making her wait so long.”
Wangji watches them disappear behind a small hill and Sizhui sinks slowly to the ground, great big sobs wracking his body. Wangji places a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder – the only comfort he can give at the moment.
The first notes from Chengqing ring out sharply in the barren desert of Qishan.
It’s a lonely song that Wei Ying plays. Lonely and aching and – and it’s a song of goodbye.
Goodbye, Wen Qionglin, Lan Wangji prays. I hope your next life is in a time befitting your kindness.
Lan Wangji remembers the Wens who are buried here. Remembers Wen Qing and her fierce eyes. Remembers how she had willingly walked into the fire in hopes that it would save Wei Ying. He can’t help but love her. He can’t help but love Wen Qionglin. He’s always been weak against those who care for Wei Ying.
Wei Ying walks back alone, his shoulders looking heavier than when he left with Wen Qionglin. He places a hand on Sizhui’s head. “Let’s give them some privacy, yeah?” he says gently, “We’ll come back with gifts in a few weeks.”
Sizhui wipes at his face and nods, “Yes, Wei-qianbei. I’m sorry – I don’t mean to cry so…”
Wei Ying crouches down in front of Sizhui and brushes his thumb under Sizhui’s eye. “It’s okay to cry,” he grins, “I miss him too.”
Wei Ying is always so good, Lan Wangji thinks to himself. Always so much better than Wangji.
Sizhui launches himself at Wei Ying then, throws his arms around Wei Ying’s neck and buries his face in his chest. He lets out sob after sob.
Wei Ying pats at Sizhui’s back soothingly and grins up at Lan Wangji, as if to tell him ‘I’m okay.’
Wei Ying is always so good.
Wei Ying is fast to get into bed that night, already under the blankets before Lan Wangji is done getting ready.
Lan Wangji pulls him close as he slips into bed. He cradles Wei Ying’s head into his neck and pats Wei Ying’s back soothingly as he had done for Sizhui.
“I’m fine, Lan Zhan,” his Wei Ying says, “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Wei Ying is always fine and Wangji has to be careful not to think about it too much because sometimes it breaks his heart.
“You loved Wen Qionglin very much,” Lan Wangji whispers into Wei Ying’s hair. “Today must have been very difficult for you, Wei Ying. You did well.”
Wei Ying doesn’t say anything back, but he buries his face deeper into Lan Wangji’s neck and grips onto Wangji’s sleep robe like a lifeline.
Wangji is not like Wei Ying. He doesn’t know the right words to say and the right comfort to give. It’s the most powerless feeling in the world, to be unable to cure the sadness in the person he loves most.
Lan Wangji presses soft kisses into Wei Ying’s hairline and continues to pat his back softly
“It’s not a hardship to worry about you,” he whispers, “I only wish that I could have carried this burden for you as well.”
Wei Ying raises his head from the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck and stares down at Wangji. His eyes are sad, but he still does not cry.
“I could not have carried this without you, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and he peppers Wangji’s face with kisses. “Thank you, Lan Zhan. Thank you.”
Again, it feels as if Lan Wangji is the one being comforted, but he’s helpless to fight against it.
He prays for happiness as he falls asleep that night. Happiness for Wen Qionglin. Happiness for Sizhui. Happiness for whatever life the Wen family shares next.
He does not pray for happiness for himself because he’s already been blessed with too much.
my beloved brandy, i dub thee uwu and crying for the fanfic writer meme hehehe 🥰
I UWU AND I CRIE AND IM PROUD
ngl it's been kind of hard to be positive lately but i'm glad that this is my legacy, if only on tumblr hehe gonna try and be a little more of a writer this fall 😌💕💕
But everyone deserves someone who fights for them. So, if no ones going to fight me for your love I guess I’ll just fight everyone who tries to pick a fight with you. I’m your personal guard 🌹⚔️❤️
UWU anon i’m gonna be shedding tears tonight. I love you so much wow TT I’ll fight for you too okay?? I gotta protect my anon too
