#me shaking mdzs: some of us like bears miss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azure7539arts · 5 years

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may I also request something mdzs related? that post about wwx going down lwj memory lane, may you write his reactions to lwj receiving his punishment, finding lsz, and maybe inquiry? your writing is really captivating! (and very angsty)

Thank you, anon! And, apparently, angsty is what I strive for in life lmao And yes, feel free to send in more asks. I’ll get around to them when I have the chance~

[Read part 1 (i guess?) here]

► Note:

• Bu Ye Tiancheng: Nightless City

• LuanZang Gang: Burial Mounds

• Yun Shen Buzhi Chu: Cloud Recesses in the English translation (or literally, land lost in the clouds, unable to be found)

As always, SPOILERS! SPOILER ALERT. PLEASE SCROLL AWAY IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS.

Wei WuXian didn’t think he was breathing.

He didn’t think he was breathing because the air felt leaden in his lungs as it sat like an ominous weight right in the center of his chest, just waiting to burst forth straight out of his rib cage.

He’d been trying to think, trying to piece together some sort of coherent thought or explanation or just anything at all, but all that he could come up with was a broken loop of why, why, why, why.

He understood why, but that didn’t mean he had to comprehend or accept it. He understood that Lan Zhan was a stubborn, headstrong man with a will of iron forged in the most searing of flames in the high heavens. He understood that once Lan Zhan loved, there was nothing or no one who could sway him otherwise (because, deep down, the six-year-old boy who resolutely sat on those stone steps to wait for his mother to open the doors for him was still there, still patiently waiting even then after all this time—and this was already more than enough evidence should anyone ever want to know exactly just how unwavering and unfaltering Lan Zhan could be once he’d decided that he’d give someone hold over his heart.)

Wei WuXian understood it all, but as it was, he didn’t understand why Lan Zhan just had to go to this length for him.

He had been trying in vain for what seemed like hours to stop the discipline whip from striking and cutting any more slashes into Lan Zhan’s already bloodied, torn up back, the wounds so deep Wei WuXian could see the sickening sight of white bone peeking out in some places underneath the shredded flesh. He knew there was no use to it—whatever remaining rationality screaming at him that this was just a memory of the past flashing by—but he couldn’t help it.

He had to do something when there were people were hurting the one person he loved most in the world.

By the end of it, Lan Zhan was bedridden for three years.

By the end of it, Wei WuXian couldn’t remember what his past counterpart had been doing during those three years up on LuanZang Gang anymore. All he could hear and see, taste and smell, were the tears and sweat and blood that shedded for him.

“Don’t go so fast,” Wei WuXian said into this quiet void of talking to himself, itching eyes watching as Lan Zhan, in a frantic panic, dressed himself and proceeded to ignore every unbidden wince of pain that he was pulling out of his own lips thanks to that series of hasty movements that were disturbing those barely healed wounds. The slashes had still bled sluggishly sometimes, even after three years. “Worry about yourself first.”

Those were futile words.

Lan Zhan had disappeared from Yun Shen Buzhi Chu that day and had brought himself—no matter the pain it took—to LuanZang Gang. To the one person who had directly and indirectly caused him all the hurt, beyond the physical sense, that he had been bearing for years and years on end.

But long before he had managed to drag himself there, the Wei WuXian of this bleak past had already been long gone from the world.

(Wei WuXian didn’t think he would ever forget the sheer desperation that had been on Lan Zhan’s face as he had looked around in search for any traces, any remaining traces at all, of the person whom he given everything he could to protect.

There had been none.)

And Wei WuXian wondered, numbly, what had kept Lan Zhan searching. Stubbornness? Despair?… Hope? It was hard to say, and in the meantime, Wei WuXian was trying his utmost best not to look too closely at his surroundings anyway. The broken pots on the ground, the makeshift houses razed to the ground, the just growing crops burnt and mercilessly squashed… The Wens had all died in this place along with him.

It wasn’t until Lan Zhan pulled a too thin, unconscious and feverish boy out of the hollow of a tree littered with all sorts warding talismans, that he could feel the coiled tension in the pit of his stomach relax incrementally.

A-Yuan had subconsciously clung onto Lan Zhan like a lifeline, and either too far gone or thinking that there had been no one around to witness it anyway, Lan Zhan had allowed a grief-stricken look to shroud over his face, and Wei WuXian could only cast his eyes out into the dark expanse of the starless night sky above, overwhelmed and exhausted yet relieved at the same time despite himself. Despite already knowing that Lan Zhan would eventually find this poor boy who had once called him Xian-gege and had now become the sole survivor of an entire family.

“A-Yuan ah…” Wei WuXian whispered, hand motioning in an attempt to try and stroke a hand through the child’s sweat and dirt matted hair that he could still remember to be so soft and tender. “You’re safe now. He’ll take good care of you.” Better than I could’ve ever done myself.

Wei WuXian thought he remembered where his soul had gone, after that sweeping raid on LuanZang Gang, but he wasn’t thinking about it. Instead, the sound of the guqin lingered with him, as much as it had done with Lan Zhan, almost everywhere, constantly, the hauntingly desolate notes wrapping around him like binding threads of gossamer. Spinning and spinning and spinning.

Lan Zhan had played Inquiry everyday (like he he had kept waiting for his mother to open the door to receive him into her arms everyday even though he had no longer come by to sit on the steps of her private quarters anymore after his schedule had gotten too irregular to keep up the habit.) He had played Inquiry every day, had gone to buy Emperor’s Smile whenever he had missed the bright boy of the past and his rich laughter too much, and had gathered every piece of Wei WuXian that he had still kept from long ago together to form what almost seemed like one last final breath of a life before had died out in a shriek of agony.

He’d held onto all of that, tucked them away for safekeeping, and continued playing that one song of Inquiry day after day without fail.

Wei WuXian looked at his husband, his hands ghosting over the too silent strings that was the hallmark of an unanswering soul, and wondered what would have become of them, of Lan Zhan, if Mo XuanYu hadn’t given him another chance at life.

(The idea of Lan Zhan, cold and alone and unable to move on from this almost terrifyingly encompassing love, love for a person—for all he had known—who was never coming back, made Wei WuXian shudder as the despair bubbled up from deep inside his chest and spilled over like spider lilies falling into the darkness.)

His limbs were cold, and Lan Zhan, just like that, was clasping Wei WuXian’s hands with his own his steady, warm ones, all the while blowing hot breaths onto the icy palms and kneading the underlying muscles for better blood circulation.

Lan Zhan allowed him his silence for a few long moments before cracking his lips open and saying, “It’s not your fault.”

“You told me that already,” Wei WuXian replied sullenly, head heavy with a pulsing pressure wedged right behind his eyes.

“It’s true.”

Wei WuXian pursed his lips and said nothing. His fingers were still stiff with cold.

“I…” Lan Zhan began again, and for a man of not many words, he was trying hard to get this point across. Because it was important. “I do not want there to be any sense of gratitude or apology between us.”

“That’s not—” Wei WuXian was in the process of shaking his head in denial when Lan Zhan levelled him a pointed look, one eyebrow slightly arching upward, and Wei WuXian clicked his mouth shut at that.

Lan Zhan sighed, the circular motion of his massaging thumbs moving steadily along Wei WuXian’s hands until they settled over inner, sensitive skin of his wrists now. And he tried again, no interruption this time: “I do not what that because everything I did, I did because they were right. No more.”

Meaning, Don’t feel grateful towards me when I was only doing the right things.

Meaning, Don’t apologize when I have no regrets.

Meaning, You were—are—right to me.

Because unlike his father before him who had had to lock both himself and his own wife, the love of his life, away because he couldn’t reconcile the conflicts he had felt over loving her so much even though it had been wrong and had gone against every teaching he had received since young, Lan Zhan knew that this love, to him, was right.

Wei WuXian was right, to him. For him.

“You told Jiang WanYin it was better not to dredge up the already bygone past, and this is the same.” Lan Zhan leant down, pressing gentle kisses over the pulse in Wei WuXian’s wrists. “We’re here now.” As in, what’s done is done.

Let’s enjoy the present.

And Wei WuXian closed his eyes, throat tight with the piercing of a thousand needles, but at the same time, he understood this. He comprehended what his husband was saying, and he agreed. The past was the past, and beyond that, it was already another lifetime for him, and if he kept living in regrets, even now that they had gotten married and had only just begun spending their lives together for the rest of their days to come… Then what was the point in all that suffering that they had gone through to be with one another? What was the point in all the pain that Lan Zhan had endured?

Gratitudes and regrets poisoned a relationship, and Wei WuXian should know this better than anyone else.

So he surged up and settled himself into his husband’s embrace, arms wrapping around him and holding him close. Never leaving. Never again.

“I love you,” Wei WuXian said, a genuine smile on his lips despite the sadness that was finally ebbing in his eyes. He was happy. Happy that Lan Zhan had gone out of his way and tried so hard to explain his thoughts to Wei WuXian, laying his heart out in the open like that, just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding between them.

“Mn.”

(It was an almost terrifyingly encompassing love, but at the same time, Wei WuXian didn’t mind. His love was possessive, too, with the weight of too many losses and the stigma of a madness that hadn’t quite faded away even after crossing over lifetimes. And that was just how they were… They helped balance each other out and made themselves all the more stronger for it.

In the end, this was all that they had ever wanted or needed.)

#my writing #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wangxian #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #gdc #wei wuxian #lan wangji #answered #lmao I hope this was what you were looking for anon #Anonymous

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