Chapter Text
Part One: Waking
II
The last thing Wei Ying thinks of before he’s shot is the memory of Lan Zhan’s wide, pleading eyes, a whispered “come back to Gusu with me, Wei Ying. Please,” and then the heartbreak when Wei Ying shook his head, turned away, walked away and never looked back, too lost to grief and rage to do anything else.
Now, now he simply feels tired, exhausted to his bones, wondering what it might have felt like to take Lan Zhan’s offered hand, to go to Gusu, to let everything go.
He might even have been able to rest then.
The shot is loud, and the silence afterwards is deadening.
II
The first thing Wei Ying sees as he wakes up, is a hand resting on his. He merely looks for a few moments, his mind foggy and slow, not really thinking, merely observing. It is a warm hand, fingers slightly curled to touch the edges of his palm, thumb resting by his wrist.
A hand on his. It feels oddly like an anchor, he thinks, closing his eyes and then opening them again. Everything is bright around him, bright and white. This is a hospital, he realizes, and he is the patient.
He exhales and feels the hand on his shift slightly.
“You’re awake,” a voice says, and he knows that voice, Wei Ying thinks distantly. He knows it very well. “Wei Ying.”
Lan Zhan. Beautiful, handsome, striking Lan Zhan, looking as if carved from jade, worthy of his nickname as the Second Jade of Lan, is by his side and holding his hand. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan.
He lifts his gaze to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, widened and shadowed by some emotion Wei Ying can’t identify. They stare at each other for one heartbeat, two, three, and Wei Ying has the oddest feeling of being anchored again.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again, and there is something in his voice too, something Wei Ying can’t quite identify.
Wei Ying nods weakly. His neck feels stiff and every movement feels as if there is no strength behind it. Despite just waking, he feels bone tired. Faintly, he remembers the gunshot, the pain, the overwhelming pain, and then nothing, just nothing.
“I didn’t think I’d live,” he says faintly. His voice sounds raspy and his eyes blur with what he realizes are tears. Oh.
Lan Zhan’s hand on his tenses minutely, thumb pressing lightly on his wrist as if to feel his pulse. “Alive.”
Wei Ying exhales. Alive. He’s alive. “How long have I been…”
“Three years,” Lan Zhan says, and there is an ache in his voice that he can’t hide this time, as much as he tries.
Three years, Wei Ying thinks, and closes his eyes again. He can feel Lan Zhan’s hand remain on his even as the room becomes filled with the voices of nurses. Three years. He’s alive and it’s been three years.
He’s alive.
Oh.
II
They tell him he’s been in a coma for over three years and that they weren’t certain if he’d ever wake. They talk about the damage to his body, his slow recovery, about physical therapy and the road forward, and Wei Ying listens to it without really hearing it. He feels distant from it all, as if it isn’t quite his life and his body.
For three years, in a way it hasn’t been, he supposes.
Through it all, Lan Zhan holds his hand, refusing to leave, and Wei Ying finds himself oddly comforted by his presence, his touch, his occasional “hn” to what the doctors say. He feels like one familiar thing in a world that is suddenly not familiar at all, a constant when everything else has shifted.
At some point, Wei Ying drifts off again, and he wakes to find the room darker, but Lan Zhan still there, still holding his hand, eyes closed and faced relaxed – meditating, not sleeping. Lan Zhan was always good at focusing when meditating, Wei Ying remembers, while he never was.
Lan Zhan was good at a lot of things that Wei Ying was quite terrible at, really. Following the rules. Staying out of trouble. Not antagonizing people best not antagonized.
The Wens, Wei Ying thinks bitterly, and feels the taste of blood in his mouth as he remembers the car bomb that took his sister’s life (and her husband); the bomb meant for troublesome, rule-breaking, antagonizing Wei Ying.
“You’re back.”
Wei Ying feels his breath catch, making him cough, and his heart pounds painfully in his chest as he looks up. Jiang Cheng is standing in the doorway, face in shadow, voice angry and yet slightly brittle.
“Jiang Cheng,” he says, and doesn’t know what else to say. Next to him, Lan Zhan rises from the chair, looking tense.
“I didn’t believe it when they called me,” Jiang Cheng says. He stays in the doorway, balling his fists. “Three years and you’re back.”
Wei Ying swallows. Last he saw Jiang Cheng, his brother was telling him to never come back, that sister had died because of his need to be a hero, that it was all his fault, all of it. It hurt then. It hurts now.
“How is Jin Ling?” Wei Ying asks, desperately wanting to know, and Jiang Cheng nearly growls.
“You have no right to ask,” Jiang Cheng says, and Wei Ying lowers his head, bites down the urge to defend himself as he tried several times three years ago, to repeat yet again that he never meant for this to happen, that he only tried to do what he thought was right, that he would gladly have died for Yanli rather than see their sister die because of him.
Jiang Cheng didn’t listen then. Why would Jiang Cheng listen now?
“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Zhan says, voice frosty and with a clear warning in it. It makes Wei Ying’s heart ache a little.
“The Second Jade of Lan. Of course you are here,” Jiang Cheng says sourly. “Despite your reputation, you were never any better than my brother.”
Wei Ying feels a sudden flash of anger. That Jiang Cheng insults him, that he can live with, have had years of living with. But Lan Zhan… “Jiang Cheng! Apologize immediately!”
“To him?” Jiang Cheng hisses. He gives Lan Zhan an absolutely withering look. Lan Zhan merely raises his chin, a challenge, and after a moment, Jiang Cheng shakes his head and stomps away angrily.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, squeezing his hand. It steadies him, and Wei Ying exhales, breathing until he calms.
“Three years has not changed Jiang Cheng’s temper,” Wei Ying mutters. He feels himself shivering a little, but from pain, not from cold.
“Jin Ling is doing well,” Lan Zhan says after a moment, his voice tinged with sympathy, as if he understands Wei Ying’s need to know. For all their differences, Wei Ying often felt like Lan Zhan understood him better than most, maybe better than all except Yanli did. “He is a healthy child.”
Wei Ying exhales. “Thank you.”
“Mn.”
There is one more child Wei Ying wonders the fate of, but he doesn’t dare ask, too afraid it will be painful. Instead, he tries to find comfort in the fact that Yanli’s son lives on, that Jiang Cheng undoubtedly looks after his nephew to honor Yanli.
“Lan Zhan?” he asks softly.
“Mn.”
Why are you here, he wants to ask, and doesn’t dare to. Why did I wake to your presence? Shouldn’t you be as angry with me as Jiang Cheng?
“Thanks,” he mutters instead. He means it. He is grateful for Lan Zhan’s presence even if he’s not quite sure why Lan Zhan is here after everything. He didn’t think he’d wake up again, and even if he did consider that possible, he would have been certain he’d wake up alone, everyone who cared for him now lost.
Lan Zhan looks at him, parting his lips as if about to speak for a moment, then exhales. Gently, he puts his other hand on Wei Ying’s forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair. The gesture feels strangely intimate.
“Rest, Wei Ying,” he says gently; Wei Ying drifts off again to the sight of Lan Zhan looking down at him, still holding his hand.
II
He dreams of death and blood and his sister’s scream, A-Yuan’s cry, Jiang Cheng’s agonized shout, and his own whimpers choking him until he can’t breathe, tears hot on his face.
He wakes to hot tears on his face being gently wiped away by a warm hand; Lan Zhan’s hand, he realizes.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan whispers, and Wei Ying finds himself leaning into the touch before drifting off again; this time, there are no dreams.
II
The doctor is there when Wei Ying wakes properly, Lan Zhan lingering at the back of the room. He remains close by as Wei Ying is allowed to try to walk, finding it strangely painful at first. His muscles are weakened from disuse, the doctor tells him, but assures him physical therapy will help with that.
They can arrange for care and physical therapy at home soon, the doctor goes on to inform him, if he should want that.
Home, Wei Ying thinks. Once, that was with the Jiangs. Now, now there is no home. The small flat he stayed in the last few days before his near death certainly was nothing of the sort, even with A-Yuan’s presence.
A-Yuan, he thinks, and then banishes the thought painfully.
The hospital food is painfully bland, but Lan Zhan ignores all his whining about said fact and gives him pointed stares until he eats it all. A nurse stops by for some tests after, all practiced smiles that make Lan Zhan frown for some reason.
Lan Zhan sits down in the chair afterwards, and it occurs to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan has been there since he woke up. Has he slept? Eaten?
“Lan Zhan,” he says softly, Lan Zhan meeting his gaze. “Shouldn’t you go home for a while? They’ll look after me here.”
Lan Zhan shakes his head minutely.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again, sitting up slightly. “You need to look after yourself. Go home.”
“Not leaving Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says simply, and Wei Ying swallows. The simple declaration makes him want to cry, feeling oddly like a spoken commitment.
“Lan Zhan,” he says yet again, but Lan Zhan simply gives him a look.
“You will not change his mind,” a gentle voice says from the door. “My brother has been stubborn since very young.”
Wei Ying looks up to see Lan Huan walking in, smiling pleasantly. He is carrying two bags, easing them down by Lan Zhan’s feet.
“Lan Huan,” Wei Ying greets him, and Lan Huan gives him a long, thoughtful look.
“Wei Ying, it is good to see you awake,” Lan Huan says, and it actually sounds sincere. “A-Zhan, I brought you some food and a change of clothes.”
“Brother,” Lan Zhan acknowledges.
“I know you are determined to look after Wei Ying,” Lan Huan goes on, voice as pleasant as ever, but his tone is also strangely determined and forceful. “Let me look after my younger brother.”
The brothers look at each other for a moment, then Lan Zhan nods, accepting it, even looking a touch grateful. It makes Wei Ying think of Jiang Cheng, and what they’ll probably never have again.
“How are you feeling, Wei Ying?” Lan Huan asks after a moment, shifting his attention to Wei Ying. Yet again, he looks as if he actually cares, and Wei Ying wonders why he would.
“Fine,” he says brightly, far too brightly. “They might let me leave soon.”
“I see,” Lan Huan says. He glances over at Lan Zhan, and something unspoken passes between them. “I look forward to seeing you soon, then.”
Wei Ying blinks. “Seeing me soon?”
Lan Huan just smiles again, putting his hand on Lan Zhan’s shoulder for a moment. “Everything is well at home. I will look after everything. Do not worry.”
“Thank you, brother,” Lan Zhan says, and Lan Huan’s smile turns very, very soft. After a moment, he gives Wei Ying another smile, then walks out without another word.
“What was he talking about?” Wei Ying asks, and Lan Zhan looks up at him. “Lan Zhan?”
“Staying at Gusu,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying blinks again.
“I know your family live at Gusu, Lan Zhan,” he replies, frowning. The Lan estate of Gusu is close to the mountains, beautiful and cool from what Wei Ying remembers from his few visits there.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, the faintest hint of a sigh in his voice. “Wei Ying staying at Gusu while recovering.”
Wei Ying feels a flush of surprise to his cheeks. Lan Zhan wants him to stay at his home? Lan Huan apparently knows about that? “Why?”
“Look after Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says firmly. He takes Wei Ying’s hand. “Please let me.”
Wei Ying shudders, feeling a sudden urge to cry. He has to bite his lip to keep them from falling. Lan Zhan is sincere, he knows. Lan Zhan doesn’t lie. Probably, Lan Zhan has realized he has nowhere else to go, Wei Ying thinks, and is generous enough to offer his home. Generous, wonderful Lan Zhan.
“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “I’ll just make a mess.”
Lan Zhan ignores that part, just looking at him, eyes pleading and strangely soft.
“Wei Ying, come back to Gusu with me,” Lan Zhan asks, and this time, Wei Ying nods and doesn’t look away.