[He is weary, when he returns to the Cloud Recesses, Wen Yuan safely in his arms but no trace of Wei Wuxian to show for his pains. He cannot make himself rest. Lan Qiren insists he return to seclusion to recover from the discipline wounds, that he rethink what to do with A-Yuan.
Lan Wangji goes down to Caiyi that night, and buys one jar of Emperor's Smile. He is not thinking clearly, at all, only wishing. Lan Wangji has always been better at making gestures than speaking words, and he wishes to make a gesture of his sorrow towards Wei Wuxian.
The wine is fragrant, mellow and smooth. He has never drunk before, and it lights a fire through his body. He dislikes drinking it, but he feels he understands why Wei Wuxian liked it so.
Everything after that is hazed, but he still wants, he wants. He wants to make the gesture. He wants to memorialize Wei Wuxian, if he is dead. He wants something to call his spirit back to this place. Why does he want to? To say goodbye? To keep him there? To try and becalm the raging ghost he must be and then decide? That night, his heart in turmoil, he cannot say.
He breaks into the storage rooms, the Treasure Pavilion. Other try to stop him; he pays them no heed. His brother does not try to stop him, but sees the lost look on his face, actually asks him his wishes. His brother has always understood him better than others.
"A flute," he says. Perhaps, if Wei Wuxian's flute is here, he will come. Perhaps, if he calls with Wei Wuxian's flute, he will come back.
Lan Xichen gives him a flute of white jade, not understanding clearly after all, and he hurls it away. "Not this one!"
He is still searching when a gleam of black iron catches his eye, so like Chenqing. He opens the box, and sees the iron branding rods, the familiar sun.
He does not find Chenqing, but he makes the gesture anyway. In the grip of the drink, the pain is only a faint haze.]
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Lan Wangji goes down to Caiyi that night, and buys one jar of Emperor's Smile. He is not thinking clearly, at all, only wishing. Lan Wangji has always been better at making gestures than speaking words, and he wishes to make a gesture of his sorrow towards Wei Wuxian.
The wine is fragrant, mellow and smooth. He has never drunk before, and it lights a fire through his body. He dislikes drinking it, but he feels he understands why Wei Wuxian liked it so.
Everything after that is hazed, but he still wants, he wants. He wants to make the gesture. He wants to memorialize Wei Wuxian, if he is dead. He wants something to call his spirit back to this place. Why does he want to? To say goodbye? To keep him there? To try and becalm the raging ghost he must be and then decide? That night, his heart in turmoil, he cannot say.
He breaks into the storage rooms, the Treasure Pavilion. Other try to stop him; he pays them no heed. His brother does not try to stop him, but sees the lost look on his face, actually asks him his wishes. His brother has always understood him better than others.
"A flute," he says. Perhaps, if Wei Wuxian's flute is here, he will come. Perhaps, if he calls with Wei Wuxian's flute, he will come back.
Lan Xichen gives him a flute of white jade, not understanding clearly after all, and he hurls it away. "Not this one!"
He is still searching when a gleam of black iron catches his eye, so like Chenqing. He opens the box, and sees the iron branding rods, the familiar sun.
He does not find Chenqing, but he makes the gesture anyway. In the grip of the drink, the pain is only a faint haze.]