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No one has seen Lan Wangji in months until Wen Chao saunters into the cultivation chamber at Nightless City with Lan Wangji following three steps behind. His face is perfectly blank as he stares at nothing, eyes lowered. As always, he is dressed in the white and pale blue robes of the Gusu Lan sect. To Jiang Cheng’s eyes he looks the same as he always has, one arm clasped behind his back and the other–
Jiang Cheng’s eyes snap to Wen Chao where he is holding Bichen alongside his own sword.
“Lan Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, stepping forward from the other side of the hall. To Jiang Cheng his expression is as inscrutable as his brothers.
Wen Chao’s gaze snaps to Lan Xichen and he comes to a stop with his entourage just inside the entrance. His mouth curls into a cruel smirk. “Sect Leader Lan. May I introduce my servant, Lan Wangji.”
Lan Wangji steps forward and keeping his eyes lowered, bows deeply to his brother. Not the bow of one heir to another, but the bow of a low ranking servant to a sect leader.
Lan Xichen seems lost for words. “Lan Wangji… Where… Why…” He seems unable to get the sentence out, trying desperately to meet his brothers eyes but being met only with a blank downturned gaze.
Jiang Cheng strides forward. “What is the meaning of this?” he asks, his voice raising.
Wen Chao just laughs. “You may answer,” he says to Lan Wangji, dismissive and cruel.
Lan Wangji’s blank gaze moves to stare at a point somewhere over Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “I have offered my services to the Wen Clan,” he says, and nothing more.
“He didn’t exactly have anywhere else to turn,” Wen Chao says and Xichen flinches back like he’s been hit.
“Fetch me some tea,” he says over his shoulder to Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng waits for that stubborn look he’s seen only too much from Lan Wangji. The look that says he is not going to bend, no matter what. But instead his face stays a perfect, blank mask, and he bows deeply to Wen Chao before sweeping off to presumably get a tray of tea. He refuses to meet the gaze of any of the cultivators in the room.
That is how the rest of the cultivation conference goes. Lan Wangji kneels behind Wen Chao’s seat and does everything Wen Chao commands him to with perfect manners and perfect bows and a perfectly fucking blank face. Any time any of the other cultivators try to address him directly he merely gazes at the ground and lets Wen Chao answer for him.
By the time most of the meal has gone past Jiang Cheng feels like his fingers are never going to unclench from where he has been gripping the side of the table. He’s staring fixedly at Bichen, leaned up against Wen Chao’s table. Just the sight of it out of Lan Wangji’s grasp is making Jiang Cheng’s anger rise.
And with every passing minute, his fear for Wei Wuxian is deepening. The possibility of him being separated from Lan Wangji is something Jiang Cheng hadn’t even considered. Why was Lan Wangji here? Why was he letting himself be ordered around like a servant? Letting Wen Chao humiliate him.
It is only because he is staring at Lan Wangji so intensely that he notices him starting to get a hitch in his step. Jiang Cheng frowns. Wen Chao issues another one of his orders and Lan Wangji bows and goes to stand. As he pushes up, he stumbles, almost falling, as if one of his legs cannot bear his weight. Jiang Cheng sees a flash of pain cross his face before he rights himself completely and reasserts his blank expression. He’s injured. From Wen Chao’s smirk as he watched Lan Wangji stumble, he knows it too.
From there Wen Chao’s orders only get more frequent. He wants a scroll. Now the scroll must be put back. Then his food is too bland. Now he needs some milk since it is too spicy. He spends several minutes using Lan Wangji to pass messages back and forth to a Wen disciple near the back of the room.
Over the course of the next hour Wen Chao’s smile only gets wider as Lan Wangji’s steps get more uneven. He is forced to kneel and stand repeatedly and Jiang Cheng has a sinking sensation in his stomach about what will inevitably happen.
He is not the only one distracted by the Wens. The conversation among the sect leaders is stilted and random. Everyone in the room is paying attention to Wen Chao’s game.
Finally, the inevitable happens. Lan Wangji is returning with another tray of tea. He goes to kneel beside Wen Chao and his leg gives out under him. He stumbles, rights himself too late, and the tray slides out of his hands, the cups shattering on the ground, tea splashing down the side of Wen Chao’s robe and across the floor. Jiang Cheng sees all the remaining colour drain out of Lan Wangji’s face. At the same time Wen Chao explodes in a snarl of anger and he shoots to his feet, his whip lashing out. Lan Wangji doesn’t even attempt to defend himself as the whip slashes down, not on his face, but precisely on his leg where Jiang Cheng suspects his injury is. With a short gasp of pain he collapses to the ground, sprawled among his bright white robes and breathing heavily. There’s a twitch of his mouth that on anyone else would be full panic before he clenches his jaw and his expression settles into resigned stillness.
“You clumsy oaf!” Wen Chao screams into the now complete silence of the hall.
Jiang Cheng’s hand goes to the hilt of his sword and he sees everyone else in the hall do the same. Jiang Cheng waits for this to finally be too much for Lan Wangji. For him to strike back at the abuse and humiliation Wen Chao has been heaping on him since they arrived. He can see where blood is already starting to seep through the robes around his legs.
But slowly, graceful as ever, Hanguang Jun gathers himself to kneel in front of Wen Chao, hands clasped outstretched in a formal bow with his head lowered.
“I deeply apologize Young Master Wen,” Lan Wangji says, in a perfectly even tone.
Wen Chao snarls again, wordless. Jiang Cheng is sure he has stopped breathing himself. Fingers locked around Sandu and Zidian crackling with his anger.
“Please forgive your humble servant this error,” Lan Wangji says quietly.
Then every cultivator in the hall’s eyes widen as Hanguang Jun places his palms down and lowers his forehead to the ground, bowing as low as he can to Wen Chao.
Jiang Cheng skates a look over to Lan Xichen whose face is a mask of pain to see his brother prostrating himself in front of Wen Chao.
Wen Chao’s face is twisted up with rage and he flings his sleeve out, staring in disgust at the wet patch.
“This is absolutely unacceptable! I thought you knew what the consequences would be. But it seems I will have to make myself clear again.”
“No!” Lan Wangji says, jerking up to stare at Wen Chao above him. For the first time all evening he looks fearful.
Wen Chao raises an eyebrow at him.
Jiang Cheng watches as Lan Wangji glances around the cultivation hall. The fear is plain on his face, and he seems to have suddenly become aware of the dozens of cultivators watching his humiliation. Jiang Cheng feels his stomach curdle. But a resolve passes over Lan Wangji and he presses his forehead to the ground again. “Please, Young Master Wen” he says, sounding wretched. “The mistake was mine. The punishment should also be mine.”
“Very well,” Wen Chao says.
Jiang Cheng is already leaping to his feet as Wen Chao pulls his arm back to slash his whip down again. “No!” Jiang Cheng yells and Zidian snaps out, knocking the whip aside with a crackle. That Wen dog has finally gone too far. He can’t watch him attack a fellow cultivator in the middle of a distinguished conference.
Wen Chao turns towards him. His stupid mouth is hanging open, seemingly shocked that anyone is trying to tell him what to do. At his feet, Lan Wangji stays pressed to the ground, trembling faintly.
“This is an internal clan matter,” Wen Chao says with a sneer.
Jiang Cheng lunges, sees Lan Wangji move even faster and before he can even come close to Wen Chao, his blade is slamming down on Bichen, grasped tightly in Lan Wangji’s grip. There is a wild look in his eyes as he slams Jiang Cheng backwards, disengaging. Every cultivator in the room is on their feet with their swords drawn. Lan Xichen is halfway across the floor towards his brother. Everyone is shouting. Tables are scraping. The hall has exploded into chaos.
Jiang Cheng tries to dodge around him, stabbing at Wen Chao but Lan Wangji is suddenly in front of him again, knocking Jiang Cheng’s sword out of the way and grabbing him by the wrist with his free hand. Jiang Cheng is yanked forward, pressed into Lan Wangji’s chest. Under the clamour Jiang Cheng hears a quiet whisper.
“Please don’t,” Lan Wangji says, sounding absolutely wretched. “They have Wei Ying.”
Dread settles in his stomach and he shoves away from Lan Wangji, nearly colliding with Lan Xichen, suddenly beside him.
“Please,” Lan Xichen says. “Please Lan Zhan, do not do this.”
Lan Wangji stares back at him and the assembled cultivators cooly. Bichen is perfectly steady in his hand where he holds it in front of him but Jiang Cheng can see a faint tremble in his injured bloody leg. His spiritual power may be all that is allowing him to hold on for now.
Wen Chao is smirking behind him, looking completely at ease while surrounded by armed angry cultivators. But of course he has the great Hanguang Jun protecting him. Jiang Cheng feels his rage rise again in a powerful torrent. To see the man who murdered his family, standing here smirking in this hall. He doesn’t realize he has taken a step forward until he feels a hand grip his wrist and sees the point of Bichen now levelled at his neck.
He skates a glance to the side where Lan Xichen has an iron grip on his arm. The two twin Jades of Lan are staring at each other with inscrutable intensity. But whatever passes between them is enough for Xichen to step back, pulling Jiang Cheng with him.
In a flash Jiang Cheng remembers Wei Wuxian. Wherever he is, he is in enough danger that Lan Wangji has been convinced to humiliate himself in front of the Sect leaders. Jiang Cheng sheathes his sword in one sudden movement and sees Lan Wangji relax, lowering Bichen until it’s merely hanging at his side.
The silence in the hall is deathly quiet for several long moments before Wen Chao makes himself known again.
“Shameful, Clan Leader Jiang,” he says, shaking a finger at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng imagines slicing it off. “Attacking the sworn servant of another Clan.”
He clamps his hand down on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Jiang Cheng imagines slicing the entire arm off.
Lan Wangji is staring at the ground again, face blank.
“We won’t offend your delicate sensibilities any longer with our Wen Clan discipline,” Wen Chao says. He snatches Bichen back from Lan Wangji’s grip. Before any of the other clan leaders can muster an objection the sword is sheathed and Wen Chao has strode out of the room. Two of the Wen Clan soldiers grab an unresisting Lan Wangji and drag him out of the room after their master. Jiang Cheng desperately tries to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes but they’re resolutely staring at the floor. And in another moment he’s gone.
Lan Wangji lay on the ground some time after their dramatic exit from the hall and an unknown time into Wen Chao’s punishment. He ached all over. His wrist felt crushed, his back torn open, his hair matted with blood. He coughed weakly, spitting blood onto the floor. He could identify the pain from each individual injury, had been made to beg for each of them in turn. But his physical pain was secondary to the relief of knowing that despite his fall in the hall earlier, he had managed to save Wei Ying from the same.
Wen Chao was chuckling above him, recoiling his whip, and slowly slicking the blood off it letting the drips splatter on Lan Wangji’s white robes.
Slowly, feeling every stripe on his back and the renewed fire in his leg, Lan Wangji struggled into a low bow, unable to raise his head even if he had wanted to.
“Please,” Lan Wangji said to the floor, pressed as low as he could. He stretched his fingers out to place them on the hem of Wen Chao’s robe. “Please, may I see Wei Ying.”
Wen Chao let out a long suffering sigh and twitched his robes away from Lan Wangji’s bloody fingers. “He won’t be very good company right now. The stupid idiot would just not shut up.”
Lan Wangji stayed where he was, the floor was a cool point of relief on his forehead. He knew what to give their tormentor. He just wanted to see Lan Zhan even more debased. But Lan Zhan certainly wasn’t above begging if it was for Wei Wuxian’s sake. He wasn’t good with words, but he had quickly learned the ones that worked on Wen Chao.
“Please,” he said again. “Please let me see Wei Ying. Please, Young Master Wen.”
“Fine,” Wen Chao said, striding away. “It’s somewhere to put you I guess.”
Lan Wangji almost went weak with relief. Before he could move of his own volition, two guards hauled him up off the floor. He tried to get his feet under him and move under his own power, but the guards were dragging him much to quickly and all his injuries were flaring up. Finally they reached one of the lower levels of the dungeon and threw him into a cell. In the harsh light from the hallway as the door opened he could see a dark form curled up on himself against the far wall. The figure was the only thing in the room other than cold stone and dust.
Then the door slammed shut and they were left with only the faint light of the moonlight streaming in through the small barred window.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said desperately. “It’s me.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, his voice frail and wobbly. “You…” he broke off on a sob. Lan Wangji felt his heart sink. They’d drugged him again. Wei Ying was barely coherent. He was mumbling to himself, interrupted only by small hitching sobs.
“Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan,” he said as Lan Wangji moved as fast as he could over to where Wei Ying was curled up on the floor. “It’s… hard.”
“I am here,” Lan Wangji said, carefully reaching out to hold Wei Ying’s hand, his other starting to stroke through his hair.
Wei Ying shifted and whimpered before falling still again but still moving up into the motion of Lan Wangji’s hand in his hair. “… Soft,” he sighed.
“Shhh,” Lan Wangji said. “I can make it softer.”
Slowly, wincing and biting his tongue so he didn’t cry out over his injuries, Lan Wangji lay down on his back on the ground beside Wei Ying. The stone floor was hard and cold under his back and he felt a wave of sadness for Wei Ying being stuck in this cold, damp and dark room all day, not even able to comprehend where he was.
“Come,” he said and pulled Wei Ying towards him. Wei Ying obediently shuffled over, making pleased sounds as he rearranged himself to curl up mostly on top of Lan Wangji, his head resting on the best attempt at a pillow that could be made from the bloodied and dirty Lan sect robes. Lan Wangji almost bit through his tongue to supress a cry as he let Wei Ying wiggle around and get settled. Having another body on top of his was not helping his injuries.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, quietly. And then, with surprisingly clarity. “I missed you.”
“I am here now,” Lan Wangji said softly, reaching up to once again run his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair. He felt some of his unease settle down, now even more certain in his decision to spare Wei Ying this punishment. Even in these most unpleasant of circumstances, having Wei Ying safe in his arms made something soft and warm erupt in Lan Wangji’s chest.
Slowly, Wei Ying’s breaths evened out into sleep. Lan Wangji listened to him breath quietly, and continued stroking Wei Ying’s hair, gathering what peace he could. Many hours later Lan Wangji finally drifted off himself, dreading what the morning would bring, but feeling as peaceful as he had in months.