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Lan Wangji knelt in the punishment courtyard feeling nothing but a cold and empty grief. The elders had all gathered, both those he had offended and those he had not to watch as his punishment was carried out.
“Lan Wangji,” one of them called out, he couldn’t be bothered to care which one. “You have been charged with breaking the rules. Are you aware which rules you have violated?”
Wangji nodded and spoke plainly.
“Do not act impulsively. Be loyal and filial. Do not disrespect the elders.”
“You are forgetting the most important rule,” an elder woman said, “Do not associate with evil.”
Something snapped in Wangji at that.
“Wangji is aware he has broken rules, but the elders have also broken rules.”
“Wangji,” the warning voice of his uncle, Lan Qiren, called out.
“Do not bully the weak. Do not praise yourself and slander others. Do not take advantage of your position to oppress others.”
“Wangji that is enough,” his uncle said.
“Do not tell lies. Do not make assumptions about others. Uphold the value of justice.”
“Wangji that is enough!” Lan Qiren’s voice echoed. “Arrogance is forbidden.”
“Do not argue with your family, for it does not matter who wins,” Wangji said, glaring at Lan Qiren with a venom in his voice none gathered had heard before. “Wangji agrees with your punishment for the rules broken, but I will not hear Wei Ying be called evil.”
“That is enough everyone,” Lan Xichen interjected. As sect leader his word was final.
“Lan Wangji,” the elder from before continued, “You have been sentenced by the elders to thirty-three lashes with the discipline whip, one for each elder you disrespected. Are there any objections?”
All eyes turned to Lan Xichen. He looked away.
A younger member of the clan stepped forward, his toned muscles visible in the way he clutched at the whip.
Wangji promised himself that each new lash of the whip would remind him of another way he had betrayed Wei Ying. He started with the small things, the ways that he had failed.
Wangji had torn up the picture. All of those years ago in Cloud Recesses Wei Ying had drawn him. It was a beautiful illustration, marvelous in its detail and how well it matched its subject, but Wangji had been so incensed he had torn up the drawing. He never told Wei Ying, but he cursed himself the moment he did. Every gift from Wei Ying was something he treasured more than life itself. Granted, Wei Ying had drawn it in an effort to avoid punishment and distract Wangji so he could show him more… illicit materials, but he still should not have gotten so angry. Why had he been so terrible at showing how he felt? Why could he not just say that he was upset because the drawings in that book made him think of Wei Ying and all of the things he would like to do? That he was upset because he had spent the last hour trying to stop himself from reaching out and touching Wei Ying’s soft lips adorably stuck out in a pout as he worked? The first lash landed.
Wangji did not ever visit Lotus Pier with Wei Ying. It had been an invitation of friendship, a hand reached across in peace and Wangji never took it. Wei Ying had promised to take him to pick lotus pods and teach him which ones were ripe and best. He had said that he would show Wangji all of the delicious food he was missing in Cloud Recesses. He had also said he would show Wangji all of the beautiful women there and, though that held no interest for him, he would do it in a heartbeat just to stay by Wei Ying’s side while he showed Wangji his home. Now he would never see Wei Ying’s home. Never hear him go on and on about his favorite sites and sounds, doubtlessly calling Cloud Recesses boring in comparison all the while. None of what was left was Wei Ying’s home. It had all been rebuilt after it was ransacked by the Wens. It was just one more piece of Wei Ying that the world had taken from him. Another lash.
Wangji did not tell Wei Ying about the rabbits. It had been a joke, Wangji knew that, but he had treasured those rabbits. He had named them and had given them a home just beyond the walls of Cloud Recesses near the Jingshi. He had spent many afternoons there in the years after the war with the Wens had ended, just sitting among the rabbits, adopting more into their brood until the hillside was abundant with the small fluffy creatures. He did not ever think too much of rabbits before Wei Ying, but after his gift they would forever be his favorites. Another lash.
Wangji had been harsh with Wei Ying. His Wei Ying had just wanted his attention, had wanted to be friends, and Wangji had been harsh with him. He had called him boring and Wei Ying was anything but. He was wild and free and completely and unapologetically himself in the world. Wangji was jealous of the ease in which he conducted himself, in his assuredness in his actions and that they were right regardless of what others would say. Wangji was not sure if Wei Ying was always right, but he knew that he was more often right than wrong.
The lashes rained down one after another, each coming with the thought of how he had done Wei Ying wrong, about how he had let down the person that he cared about most in his life. All of the reasons Wei Ying had the right to hate him, to not listen to him if he called on his guqin.
As the lashes passed twenty-seven, the most painful memories came.
He had not gone with Wei Ying that night in the rain. As the remnants of the Wen clan left, Wangji had just watched as Wei Ying walked away. He should have told him that he would rebel against orthodoxy with him, that he would leave the world behind with Wei Ying and do everything he could to protect him. To have him know that when he uttered “If I am doomed for death, at least I could be killed by you” it broke Wangji’s heart into a million pieces. The last thing he would ever do was hurt his Wei Ying. He wanted nothing more than to protect him from everything the world threw their way, but in this too he had failed. Another lash.
He had left Wei Ying in the burial mounds. Why didn’t he stay? Why hadn’t he fought harder for him to return with him to Cloud Recesses where he would have been safe? While the thought crossed his mind, Wangji felt the lie of it on his tongue. Wei Ying may have been safe among his clan, but he would not have ever stayed. Wei Ying would have become a bird in a gilded cage, like his mother. A captive more than his mingding zhiren, his fated person. Wei Ying did not want to go with him because Cloud Recesses was not a place where someone like Wei Ying could truly live. And maybe, a traitorous but loud part of his mind said, Wei Ying simply did not want to be with him. That Wei Ying did not care for Lan Wangji despite his constant begging for his attention. Another lash.
He did not stand by Wei Ying at Nightless City. It would have been so simple to just stand by his side, to have spoken up and said anything in his defense to the gathered crowd. He had not stopped his brother from letting Lan cultivators fight. His own clan members had believed his beloved to be a monster and he did not say or do anything worthwhile to stop them. He had not stopped Jiang Wanyin from stabbing his sword into the rock and making Wei Ying lose his hold. If he had another chance, Wangji would have removed that traitorous hand from Jiang Wanyin’s body that dared to harm his own brother, to harm his Wei Ying. He would never forgive the other man, or himself. Another lash.
He had not held on tighter. As Wei Ying had dangled into the abyss his arm had lost strength. Maybe if Wangji’s grip had just been a little tighter, he could have pulled Wei Ying up. The two of them could have flown away on his sword past everyone. Past everything they had ever known. He could have run forever if only Wei Ying was at his side. He could have faced anything if only Wei Ying was still here. Another lash.
The final blow posed above him, Wangji’s heart gave one last silent cry, one last thought of how Wei Ying had been betrayed: Wei Ying had never known the name of the song. He had told him once, but Wei Ying had been more than half delirious with fever and he knew that the other man bore no memory of the name. This was the final betrayal in his heart, that Wei Ying never knew how much he loved him. Would that have changed his fate? If Wangji had only been a little braver, if he had only let the contents of his heart be known, would Wei Ying have felt so alone? Would he have still looked at Wangji with so much pain and begged him to let go? If he knew that Wangji’s heart was leaving with him, would Wei Ying have still left him here? Wangji truly felt as if he had no one. His uncle had never understood him, his brother had betrayed him even knowing what Wei Ying meant, and his fated person, his love, his Wei Ying, was gone forever. He would play inquiry until his fingers bled, but he knew that his Wei Ying would not return. He was alone.
The final blow landed, and Wangji clutched at something in his hand. A red ribbon, crimson as his blood against the snow falling at Cloud Recesses. It smelled of fire and ash, it smelled like death not like the man who had worn it in life.
“Wangji! Wangji, please stay awake until the healers can look at you,” his brother’s voice called, getting closer as the elders left.
Wangji was too lost in his own pain to respond. He could not see his back, but it was on fire with the criss crossing of the thirty-three lashes of the discipline whip he was sentenced to bare. The physical pain paled in comparison to the anguish that his Wei Ying was gone. He had been left with nothing but a ribbon that smells of death and the thoughts of how much he had betrayed the one person he has ever truly loved.
The air in Cloud Recesses was frigid and quiet, but suddenly in the distance Wangji heard a child cry out. A child. There had not been the body of a child. The ghastly display the Jin’s had concocted had the bodies of the old, the frail, and the sickly, but there had been no child. Why had there not been a child? The burial mounds had a child. Where was the child? Where was Wen Yuan?
“Wangji, Wangji what are you doing?” Xichen called as Wangji made his way to his feet, back protesting at every step. He should not have been able to stand, but something beyond himself propelled him forward. He walked, step by labored step, over to the rack where he had hung his outer robes and put them back on, hissing where they touched broken skin, and grabbed his sword.
“Wangji listen to me,” Xichen pleaded, “Please you need to be looked at by a healer, you can’t leave now.”
But Wangji did not see his brother. Wangji could only see a small child latched onto his leg in Yiling. He had bought the child toys and a meal. He had seen how he and Wei Ying were both too skinny from living in the harsh Burial Mounds. Wangji saw a child Wei Ying had said was his own. A child that had called Wei Ying mother. A child that was now just as alone as he was.
“Wangji please come back,” Xichen tried once more, “I don’t want to lose you over this. You’re the pride of the Lan sect, the best among us. Please just come back and listen to reason. I can’t lose you.”
You already have, Wangji thought as he stepped on Bichen and flew away. The Wangji that would follow rules, that would see the world as black and white, as right and wrong was gone. He had died with his Wei Ying. He had tried to be virtuous, to follow the sect’s rules, and follow the straight and good path and it had cost him everything. He had already betrayed Wei Ying, he had let him down. But there was still one way he could make things right. Wen Yuan, A-Yuan, Wei Ying’s son was still out there, and Wangji would be damned if he was going to let him down too.
Wei Ying, he thought as he flew off into the snowy night, I won’t let you down again.