Came Because of Our Song ✔️

Reminiscent Past, Suppressant Fast

Content warning : heavy emotions ahead!
*********♤**************♤***********
Being bedridden is not something anyone likes, especially when you have been bedridden for almost an year before.
Lan Wangji, for all his stony features and blank expression is quite expressive about this thought.

Though you will have to squint to actually catch a glimpse of his expressions or mood but for someone who had spent a lifetime in reading him and trying to decipher the meaning hidden in the minuscule frowns, turning of lips, a ghost of a smile, a twitch of a muscle, microscopic crinkling of eyes, the shifting of his eyes and the reddening of his ears; it's easy. At least easier than others.
Needless to say, Wei Ying is quite proud to be fluent in Lan Zhan's language.

He spends most of his time in Jingshi, where Lan Wangji was brought after the healers checked him.
Ever since moving in the Jingshi, Wei Ying had transformed it in his own way, marked his presence in a way nothing can ever erase it, except one if he wishes. Though the extent to which the echo of an unmaterialistic reality can be  wiped out is unknown.

A low table which usually occupied Wangji has become used to the presence of stacks of talisman paper and notes with ink stone and brush somewhere underneath the pile.
The corner near the entrance has now two sets of boots, one balck with grey linings and other stark white with baby blue lining.
Another corner in the room has a cloth bag open haphazardly, with the contents nearly spilling out of it but not falling, miraculously.
Wangji lies in its white cloth wrap, with Chenqing usually lying on top of it.
The self near the wardrobe which was empty before now has a wooden carved rabbit and a stone carved lotus on it. Some other trinkets lie on it too, though tiny in size like they have been picked just for savouring the simplicity of their craft and life of their creator.
A wind chime is hung out on the porch, where it jiggles whenever someone or the wind feels mischievous. Sometimes, the birds join the chatter and chiming— making a improntu melody which never seems to dissolves  even after everything has quietened down.

The Jingshi is now never quiet unlike it's name, only silent when the source of the cheerful chaos is submerged in work or thought.
In those moments, the wind chime fills the silence, lulling and cajoling the disrupted minds, guiding it with a soft push in the correct direction; away from all the conflicts.
And if two fluff balls find their way inside the Jingshi sometimes, no one gets to know.
Neither about the soft scene they make nor about the breathtaking smile they create.

**************
Healing without the aid of a golden core is something which not many cultivators experience. It's not something they would wish to experience anyway.
The speed of recovery slows to that of a normal human's level and the body has to work extra hard to fight off any infection since the immune system has been dormant for so long. The tissues take longer to mend and blood clotting depends on many factors ( which won't be discussed here as this story is not sci-fi ).

Still, a body knows, it remembers.

It remembers many things.

But for the time being, those memories are kept secured.

Lan Xichen passes spiritual energy to his baby brother everyday and though the energy won't have the desired effects, it helps in its own way.
While the arrow wounds heal at a normal pace, the whip scars seem to have come to life. No matter how much the healer tried to knock Lan Wangji out of it— no needle, herbs, acupuncture or pressure point worked.
He was in a delirium for most of the day, lying on his stomach and the scene haunted Lan Xichen.

He had hoped that Wangji will not have to suffer through the same amount of pain again but fate had other ideas. It didn't help that the scars were never going to heal properly, the pain in his back bound to torture him for at least a week every year apart from seasons. Now, it was worse.