this changes everything. ⟲ wangxian

5. Laments of a Fractured Soul

As long as I'm awake

I'll live with my mistakes.

I'll always feel this far away...

When Lan Wangji plays his Qin, he enters a new world—it's not the land of the living, nor is it one of make-believe. It's somewhere in between... it's that part of one's temperament—that fragile, silk-woven bridge—that ties together a cultivator's soul and mind. That's what Qin means to him.

Wangji's fingers pluck the strings. Gently, savoringly. His eyes are sealed shut, but for the single layer of tears that's starts to form beneath his eyelashes. His head aches again, but nowadays his head always aches. It's this damn sickness. It's this damn chamber he never leaves. It's the never-ending rise and fall of a new day, a new day, a new day without... him.

That guy.

It's the sleep that Wangji is deprived of, but he refuses to sleep. He will not sleep.

He can't go back to that dream again. It seems to get worse every time. Especially now that he's practically imprisoned in his own bedchamber, nailed there for valuable rest.

He's been sleeping so much lately. He's been dreaming so much.

It's driving him insane.

Wangji tears himself out of his thoughts. He opens his eyes. No. Struggling to compose himself—to gather his thoughts and emotions and regain control of his body's peace—Wangji squeezes his eyes tighter shut. He inhales deeply. Sighing long and hard through his nose, he lets the tension in his body soothe again, playing his Qin to his heart's satisfaction.

"Your Excellency."

Lan Wangji's eyes peel open again. All movement ceases in his fingertips, his hands hovering over the strings of the Qin.

"Any news?" He asks in a low voice.

"Your Excellency. Advisor Zewu Jun sent a short letter saying that he is on his way back from the specialist's hut, on the far side of the mountain... his exact words were that he thinks he's found a game-changer."

Wangji stares at his Qin for a long moment, processing this. When he realises what his brother his actually saying, he knows he can't get his hopes up—this is the second time Xichen has used these exact words.

But... the other time got awfully close, didn't it? Weren't all the clan leaders in agreement that they had nearly broken through to the core of the case?

"Your Excellency. Should I call a scribe to write your letter in return?"

Wangji leans gently back in his seat, his heavy gaze laden to the floor. A muscle ticks in his jaw, "No need."

He will wait. He has to, anyway.

•••

When Zewu Jun finally arrives, there is a woman carried in on the Lan Clan's bamboo-woven medical stretcher. She is old, her skin saggy and sallow, her white hair pleated intricately. She wears deep green robes and her eyes are sealed shut. It looks dead—but, Wangji knows this can't be. The Lan Clan guards carry her into his bedchamber and set her gracefully on the floor, Xichen casting swift orders to leave the stretcher and fetch a bowl of water from the nearest fountain.

Wangji rises from where he had sat cross-legged at his Qin- and nearly topples off-balance. It makes him hate himself.

"Your Excellency!" A maid and a servant rush to grab hold of his arms, alerting a couple other servants on standby, who hurry to Wangji's side of their own accord.... it's embarrassing.