Chapter Text
Lan Zhan sometimes had occasions where he wondered why he had let Nie Huaisang befriend him.
This was one of those times.
Two hours earlier:
“Lan Wangji!” Nie Huaisang’s ecstatic voice called from slightly upstream. Lan Zhan had earned several names and titles over the course of his lifetime, Wangji being one of the more well known. It was the one he had used when he met Nie Huaisang the first time, and the poet had laughed in delight at how fitting a name it was, given Lan Zhan’s demeanor.
“Lan Wangji!” he called again, and Lan Zhan turned in time to see Nie Huaisang heave a large clay jar out of the shallows he was standing in. “Look at this!”
The jar was ancient and beautifully crafted; there was no arguing this. But that wasn’t what caught Lan Zhan’s eye about it.
“Put that down, Huaisang,” Lan Zhan warned, his voice serious as he eyed what he was certain was a containment seal painted onto the side of the jar. “That might be dangerous.”
Nie Huaisang ignored him and held the jar up at eye-level by its handles to admire it. “Look at this work! It’s in incredible condition considering how old it must be.”
“Huaisang,” Lan Zhan warned again and stood up from where he had been squatting next to the river. His friend had an eye for all things beautiful – paintings, poetry, women, and so on – but tended to let his appreciation blind him from making dumb and sometimes dangerous mistakes.
One would think that Huaisang would have learned at some point, considering how many ridiculous scenarios he had gotten himself into, not to mention that he recently was often hanging out with a witcher. Alas.
“There’s something almost magical about it,” Huaisang continued rambling excitedly.
“Yes, because there is something magical –“
“Oh!” Huaisang exclaimed. He had brought his hand to the lid and pulled, but the jar didn’t open. “This is stuck…”
At that, Lan Zhan was moving with urgency, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds. “Stop!” he yelled as he reached Nie Huaisang, who was still fruitlessly trying to remove the lid. “We don’t know what is being contained!”
Nie Huaisang tried to dance away, but Lan Zhan quickly slammed one hand down on top of Huaisang’s to prevent him from trying to pull off the lid and brought the other hand on top of the seal painted on the side.
“That’s why I’m – umph let go – trying to open it!”
“You are illogical, Huaisang!”
The two wrestled briefly with the jar, each trying to gain sole possession of it, when it slipped from both of their grasps and shattered on the rocks at their feet. There was not a moment for either to as much as shoot a glare to the other because a swirling red smoke immediately swarmed upwards from the broken shards.
Lan Zhan’s instincts had him scrambling backwards several few steps to analyze the danger, his dragon medallion humming an unnecessary warning against his chest, but Nie Hauisang remained where he was as the mass of smoke rose in front of him.
“Incredible!!” Huaisang shouted with glee. “A genie! I found a genie!”
An air elemental djinn, specifically, thought Lan Zhan. Not good. While this could be Huaisang’s lucky day, it most likely was not. Djinns were unwilling to lend their powers, even when bound to do so, therefore they often twisted the wishes of their masters. And while they could not kill their masters, they were all too capable of putting up a fight. Forethought was a strong requirement in handling a djinn, and that was an area in which Nie Huaisang was lacking.
“I get three wishes!” Huaisang was ecstatic and bouncing on the balls of his feet, unafraid of the writhing but shapeless smoke in front of him. “I wish to be a famous bard that will never be forgotten! Ha! I wish for my skills in all arts to be unparalleled! Yes! I wish – “
But Nie Huaisang did not get to voice his third wish because the djinn chose that moment to swarm forward and begin – somehow, without having hands to do so – strangling Huaisang.
“Hckkk,” Nie Huaisang choked and looked at Lan Zhan desperately with wide, terrified eyes.
Lan Zhan took half a second to realize that his silver sword, Bichen, was with his horse downstream and too far away for him to reach before Huaisang would surely be killed. He took another half second to curse himself for not keeping his swords closer – but why should he have expected a djinn to be fished out of the riverbank??
Silver was the only known weapon that was effective against djinns. That, or it took a very powerful mage to be able to wrangle and imprison a djinn and force it to do their will. Having neither of those available to him, Lan Zhan’s mind raced. His Signs would be of no effect or would hurt Huaisang, his sword was too far away, potions were not an option…he desperately decided that maybe an exorcism was his best bet.
Not two seconds had passed before Lan Zhan lunged into action. He shouted a short exorcism he had heard before, though in a language he was mostly unfamiliar with; hopefully he was saying it correctly. He raised his hand to cast Aard if he could get between the djinn and Huaisang, even though he was sure using a telekinetic sign against a formless elemental would not be effective. But he still had to try.
Right when finished reciting the exorcism, though, the djinn vanished. Nie Huaisang collapsed to the ground, hands flying up to gently cradle his throat. Lan Zhan’s immediate relief was short-lived as he gathered Huaisang’s state.
“Huaisang?”
Lan Zhan took in the sight of thick, swollen red welts that wrapped around Huaisang’s neck. He could tell that the wound was not one of merely physical nature – the djinn had inflicted a magical wound that would not simply heal in time. Huaisang opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, and he stared at Lan Zhan with wild and frantic eyes.
“Huaisang?” Lan Zhan asked again, a slight edge of concern tinged his voice.
A full panic wracked over Huaisang upon realizing that he couldn’t speak. After all, what was a bard without his voice? His breaths became shallow and gasping, and he clutched his wildly trembling hands at Lan Zhan’s sleeves.
“Okay, it will be okay,” Lan Zhan reassured, trying to get Huaisang to breathe properly again. “This… I know what we need to do.” He did not entirely know what they needed to do. But Huaisang didn’t need to know that. “We’re going to go to the nearest city and find a mage. They will be able to heal you.”
Huaisang’s gasps quieted, though his breaths remained shallow. Lan Zhan would take that as a win for the moment.
“Okay?” Lan Zhan questioned.
Huaisang nodded, even as tears filled his eyes, and they both stood up to get to the horses.
▬ι══════-
So yes, sometimes Lan Zhan wondered why he was friends with someone who could not take ten seconds to consider if he should or should not tamper with a magical artifact. He also would have been a little amused at Nie Huaisang being unable to speak for the time being if he wasn’t so concerned they might not be able to heal him.
The two rode for a couple of hours before coming across a small city. Nie Huaisang’s energy was fading fast, and Lan Zhan knew they were going to have to try their luck at finding a worthwhile mage in a mostly unknown place.
He just hoped Huaisang’s injury wasn’t as serious as it may be.
“Let’s find an inn here,” he told Huaisang, who nodded wearily in response. “You rest, and I will find a mage.”
▬ι══════-
After settling Huaisang into a room, Lan Zhan stopped inside the connected tavern to enquire about any mages in the city.
“There’s but one sorcerer here,” the barkeep told him. “Wei Wuxian is his name. He’s beautiful, and lots of folk go to him with requests, but…” The woman did not drop her voice to a whisper, unashamed of professing her opinion. “He’s not to be trusted. There’s something dangerous about that one.”
This information didn’t faze Lan Zhan. All sorcerers and sorceresses were beautiful – they all are given the opportunity to magically and permanently change their features during their schooling, and some could even keep up illusions on their appearance in their daily lives. Additionally, Lan Zhan’s understanding and previous experiences with mages concluded that they should be treated with caution. Of course they were dangerous (some more than others.) What would you expect from someone with the power to open portals and bring fire down from the sky?
There was more important information Lan Zhan needed.
“Where can I find this sorcerer?”
“He’s usually in the building where the Wen ambassador stays. I’ll give you directions.”
Lan Zhan thanked her for her help and then went on his way to meet this Wei Wuxian.
▬ι══════-
After arriving at the Wen ambassador’s residence, Lan Zhan was escorted by the guards to a sitting room upstairs where he was told to wait. He took a seat on a small pale sofa in the middle of the room and bided his time by observing the rest of the furnishings. The room showcased the kind of wealth that some could obtain in a city like this - fine furniture, heavy drapes, and touches of the more expensive metals – but without the gaudy extravagance found in the largest of cities. The drapes were mostly drawn, dousing the room in a cozy dimness despite it being early afternoon and sunny.
The doors on the other side of the room from Lan Zhan suddenly opened, and Lan Zhan caught a glimpse of a bedroom before his vision was obscured by who could be none other than the mage he was looking for.
The woman at the tavern had not lied; the man was beautiful. Dressed entirely in black, his robes enunciated his wide shoulders and the lines of his torso down to his hips before the skirts flared out around his legs. His robes closed high up by his neck, but somehow Lan Zhan felt the entire look was sultry, even with minimal skin showing. His long dark hair flowed freely down his back and seemed to glisten in what light snuck in through the windows, and the only jewels he wore were garnets in the lobes of his ears.
“I’ve been told you’re in need of a sorcerer,” the man said with no introduction as he crossed the room to gracefully sit on the couch opposite of Lan Zhan, one arm casually resting across the back of it.
Lan Zhan removed his gaze from the sorcerer’s long limbs to meet his eyes; eyes Lan Zhan was intrigued to find were like quicksilver: deep grey in color but with something liquid about them. They were more subtly unnatural than Lan Zhan’s own feline eyes, but unnatural all the same.
“Mn,” he replied. “I am Lan Zhan.”
What possessed him to give the name he was born with instead of his more frequently used names or titles, he would never know.
“Wei Wuxian,” the man said with a nod. “So how can this sorcerer be of assistance to a witcher?”
“My friend has been magically injured. Whether it is a curse or a spell, I do not know. But it has rendered him unable to speak, and it is potentially draining his energy, too.”
“And how did he receive this injury?”
Lan Zhan walked Wei Wuxian through his and Huaisang’s morning. Wei Wuxian’s eyes grew wide when he learned about the djinn.
“So this is no small magic, then,” Wei Wuxian mused. “And what of the wishes your friend made? You said he made two? Could his injury be a result of any of the wishes?”
“No, I do not think so,” Lan Zhan replied, leaning backwards to rest against the couch. “His wishes had to do with fame and skill. While not worded the best, they should not have caused him harm.”
“Were his wishes granted?” Wei Wuxian questioned. “Do I know your famous friend?”
That… was a good question Lan Zhan realized. “Do you know of Nie Hauisang? A young patron of many arts?”
No recognition appeared in Wei Wuxian’s eyes at the mention of his name. “No, I don’t. Though that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“As I said, he did not word his wishes very well. There was no timeframe attached to them.”
“Ah, so there’s no reason for him to be famous now.” Wei Wuxian huffed a slightly amused laugh. “He could become famous after death, I suppose.”
“Like most poets.”
A laugh came from Wei Wuxian at that. “I didn’t except jokes from a witcher! And one at the expense of a friend in need, too,” he said with a smile still on his face. “But let’s proceed with the assumption that your friend has one remaining wish, that he currently can’t speak to use and separate himself from the djinn.” Wei Wuxian then stood up, saying, “I’ll need to examine him. Then I’ll be able to confirm if I can undo the magic and heal him.”
Lan Zhan nodded and stood, too. “I’ll take you to him now, if you are available.”
“After you,” he motioned to the door with a slight bow. “Let’s get your songbird his voice back.”
▬ι══════-
They arrived back at the inn to find Nie Huaisang asleep. Lan Zhan shook him gently awake, calling his name.
Huaisang woke with a start, but relief filled his face at seeing Lan Zhan. He opened his mouth and tried to call out some sort of greeting, perhaps, but he, of course, could not. His face crumpled back into despair and his shoulders sagged.
“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Zhan said. “This is Wei Wuxian. He’s a sorcerer, and he’s going to take a look at your throat.”
Huaisang’s rollercoaster of expressions continued and changed to hope. He hastily sat up and properly at the side of the bed.
Wei Wuxian confidently strode forward from where he had momentarily paused in the doorway. “I’ve been told about your condition. I’m going to find out if I can help, if I may…?” He held his hands just above Huaisang’s ruined throat in question.
Nie Huaisang nodded his consent frantically, and Wei Wuxian gently pressed his fingertips to Huaisang’s throat and closed his eyes. Lan Zhan watched them both carefully as a soft light emitted from beneath Wei Wuxian’s hands.
Several minutes passed like this in silence. Lan Zhan was quite comfortable in it and in the armchair he had taken a seat in, but he could tell Huaisang was growing uncomfortable and nervous with the length of time without an update, his fingers picking at and twisting in the bed’s quilt. Lan Zhan could practically see the questions Huaisang desperately wanted to ask, but Lan Zhan knew better than to interrupt. Wei Wuxian would tell them when he had answers, and a few minutes of work was not yet cause for alarm.
Then suddenly, Wei Wuxian’s eyes opened and his swiftly removed his hands from Nie Huaisang’s neck. “Right,” he said to both Huaisang and Lan Zhan who both leaned forward in anticipation. “That was merely a small puzzle to figure out. A few twists and turns, but nothing I can’t neatly handle. You’ll be fine in no time and able to make that third wish of yours soon!”
Huaisang’s relief was immediate, and he clutched his hands dramatically over his heart and eagerly looked at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan didn’t blame him for his theatrics, and though he didn’t show much of it on his face, he was immensely relieved, too.
“Is there anything additional you will need?” Lan Zhan asked Wei Wuxian. He knew that sometimes mages needed special tools or ingredients to complete their work, and he would obviously offer his assistance in finding these items to help get Nie Huaisang better faster.
“Ah, actually, there is,” Wei Wuxian turned to face Lan Zhan. “Witcher, could I talk to you about a few things?” Then he moved to exit the room, tossing the black strands of his hair over his shoulder as he went, not even looking back to see if Lan Zhan was following,
Arrogant, Lan Zhan thought.
But he did follow.
Once they stepped outside the door, Wei Wuxian got to the point. “I wasn’t sure you’d want your friend to overhear,” he said as he took a half step closer to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan aimed to not show his discomfort at being so close to a stranger, and in such tight quarters as the hall, so he made an effort to not take an equal step backwards. Besides, something about the depths of Wei Wuxian’s eyes were hypnotic, almost begging him to dive in. “Because we need to talk about my fee. Will you be paying or will your poet?” The sorcerer leaned closer into Lan Zhan’s space, just a hand’s length away now.
“I can pay the fee,” Lan Zhan said, and as uncomfortable as he was with the sorcerer’s proximity, he was glad that Wei Wuxian had brought this up outside of the room because Huaisang didn’t need to further fret about things. Lan Zhan hoped he was sufficiently embarrassed anyway by his own ridiculous mistake, not to mention the pain and terror he’d been experiencing without his voice; he didn't need to worry about figuring out how to foot the bill with his starving artist's income.
“Good,” Wei Wuxian replied. And then he smiled.
And Lan Zhan knew he had made a miscalculation.
Wei Wuxian was close – too close – and it was all too easy for him to rip open a portal right behind Lan Zhan’s heels and push him into it.