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Watching Wei Wuxian walk away alone is one of the hardest things Lan Wangji has ever done — which, all things considered, is saying quite a bit. It gets a lot harder when he hears the strains of their song carried to him on the wind, faint and distant and somehow no less sad for it.
Despite both of them drawing it out and taking frequent breaks, it had taken the two of them only half a day to walk out to their parting point. With his feet like lead, his heart left behind on the ridge, it takes almost a full day for Lan Wangji to make it back to Gusu. He knows the scenery is lovely, but somehow it seems lifeless and dull without Wei Wuxian's chatter and music to accompany it.
He considers flying, but the thought of leaving Wei Wuxian behind any faster than necessary makes something in his chest tighten unpleasantly.
It's better than before, he tells himself firmly. Better than the sixteen years he'd spent grieving Wei Wuxian. At least this time he knows he's out there somewhere, knows they'll likely see each other again. The thought feels like a single stitch straining to hold a gaping wound closed, but it's better than nothing.
It's mid-morning when he steps back into Cloud Recesses. He loves his home, the place his family has lived for generations, but it feels empty and lifeless now, a place of work and duty rather than a true home. Regardless, he holds his head high as he turns toward his room, feeling the need to bathe and change clothes after his journey.
To his surprise, there's already someone waiting in his room.
"Elder Brother," he says, startled, before realizing his brother appears to be meditating. He immediately regrets the outburst, though he can hardly be blamed, he reasons as he turns to close the door behind him. No one has seen Lan Xichen outside of Hanshi in almost a year.
Lan Xichen's eyes open, and his lips curve up in a small smile at the sight of his brother.
"So, you did return to us, then," he says, a hint of teasing in his tone. It's a shadow of the good-natured mirth that might once have been there, though, and Lan Wangji feels a pang, an echo of a similar pain.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" Lan Wangji asks mildly, kneeling across the table from his brother.
"I certainly considered the possibility," Lan Xichen admits.
Lan Wangji should probably be offended by that, but he can admit, at least to himself, that the chances of that were greater than none.
"I would not abandon my duty," he settles on.
Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment.
"I would not abandon my brother," Lan Wangji amends quietly.
Lan Xichen's face does something complicated, but he doesn't seem to know how to reply to that, so Lan Wangji focuses instead on preparing tea, falling easily into the motions he's known by rote since childhood.
"I hope Wangji can forgive me," Lan Xichen finally says, eyes lowered as he watches the teapot. "Seclusion seems to have stolen my ability to speak well." Pain flickers across his face then, raw and exposed, and Lan Wangji remembers-
He is good at talking.
Lan Wangji waits patiently, focusing on serving the tea to give his brother time to recover.
"It's something I will hopefully recover with time," Lan Xichen says, looking down at the tea Lan Wangji has placed in front of him. "I'll need it, if I am to be clan leader again."
Lan Wangji looks up sharply at that.
"Have you been dissatisfied with what I've done?" he asks, a bit stiffly. It doesn't surprise him, honestly. Politics have never been his interest or strong point, so he's sure Lan Xichen could have done better.
"No," Lan Xichen responds instantly, brows furrowed. "Not at all. You've performed admirably; far better than anyone could have asked, considering you never planned to inherit. It's not what you want, though, is it?"
Lan Wangji stalls by taking a sip of his tea. It's a bit strong; he'd gotten used to making it that way recently, because that's how Wei Wuxian likes it.
He remembers watching Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen walking away, free of clan duties, free of responsibilities, free of everything but their love for each other and their desire to help people; remembers the longing he'd felt then that he hadn't understood at the time. He remembers hearing Wangxian played on a rustic flute, the first time he'd heard that song in sixteen years, the way it brought hope and color bleeding back into his world. He remembers Wei Wuxian's smile, a little sad in their last moments before parting.
"We can't all have what we want," Lan Wangji says as he sets his cup down, the ceramic a little louder against the lacquered table top than he intends. He remembers the devastation at Yi City, the haunted expression on Song Lan's face as he left that had nothing to do with spirits at all. He remembers the sound of music on the wind, not even a day past. "Few can, in fact."
"I'm aware," Lan Xichen replies, and Lan Wangji realizes his mistake too late. He looks up, and there's a ghost of a humorless smile on his brother's face.
"Elder Brother-" What would likely have been a stilted attempt at an apology is cut off by Lan Xichen's raised hand.
"I'm aware," he repeats, "that few of us can have what we want. But shouldn't that be reason enough to grasp at it with both hands when it is right in front of us?"
"I would not have you abandon your seclusion for my sake," Lan Wangji says, struggling to keep his tone tightly controlled, despite the fact that he knows his brother has always been able to see through that. "I can fulfill my duty to my clan."
"I know," Lan Xichen says gently. "You would do it well, and without complaint. You would lead the clans and keep the peace, and none would have cause to speak poorly of you." He pauses. "And the entire time, your heart would be elsewhere. With Young Master Wei."
Lan Wangji swallows hard as his fingers curl into fists on his lap.
"You need-"
"I needed time," Lan Xichen interrupts, a glaring breach of etiquette that might have startled Lan Wangji, had he not been well past that at the moment. "You gave me that, and I am grateful. I am not healed," he admits. "Just as you were not healed for sixteen years. It is a wound, I think, that those in our family never recover from."
Lan Wangji inclines his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. He knows the stories, knows how his own pain over the loss of Wei Wuxian never seemed to lessen, even as the years passed. He sees the same pain in his brother's eyes now.
"And despite not being healed," Lan Wangji says carefully, "you wish to lead the clan?"
Lan Xichen seems to gather himself, looking past Lan Wangji for a moment.
"I wish to be useful," he finally says. "I do not want to be left alone with my thoughts any longer, because I've exhausted every avenue they can take me down, so the only path left is leading my mind in wearying circles. I want to serve the clan in the way I was raised for, the one I always found fulfillment in. And I want to see my brother happy."
Something like hope flutters in Lan Wangji's chest. It's small and tentative, and he's afraid to latch onto it, but it's there.
"Do you love him?" Lan Xichen's expression tells Lan Wangji exactly how unnecessary the question is, but Lan Wangji has never said it out loud before, which may be exactly the point.
"I do," he says, the words barely audible. Lan Xichen's face goes a little soft.
"You've never been willing to ask for what you want," Lan Xichen says, "and perhaps some of that is my fault. I allowed Uncle to be too hard on you. But please, Wangji," he says, looking pained, "if you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me. I had time with the one I loved, but that time is past and tainted now. You have the opportunity, the second chance that most never have. Don't make me watch you waste it."
It's surprisingly simple, in the end. Lan Wangji writes out a brief statement that he is withdrawing as clan leader and Chief Cultivator, and handing the positions back to Lan Xichen, with one of the senior cultivators serving as witness to the exchange. He sleeps, at Lan Xichen's insistence, but has no need to pack anything beyond a few changes of clothes; he plans to fly Bichen in an attempt to catch up with Wei Wuxian by nightfall.
"You're sure?" he asks Lan Xichen a final time. The sky is gray with pre-dawn light, but Lan Wangji is anxious to be off. Lan Xichen's smile is indulgent, and Lan Wangji hopes he's not imagining a bit of its former warmth returning.
"Go," Lan Xichen says firmly, "with the blessing of both your clan and your brother. There will always be a place here for both of you, should you choose to return."
As he stands across from his brother, Lan Wangji is hit by a sudden memory of the casual affection Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had once shared. He recalls watching them share a hug during their time at the Cloud Recesses, and being at once confused by and mildly jealous of the easy way they embraced each other.
Briefly, he considers reaching out to his own brother and pulling him into a hug.
He discards the idea as quickly as he thinks it; it wasn't how they were raised, and it isn't how they are. It would be awkward, with none of the ease he recalls envying.
He meets his brother's eyes, though, and knows he understands. Lan Xichen has always been able to read Lan Wangji in a way no one else can.
So instead of a hug and a thank you, he gives his brother a bow, hands pressed together, head inclined at the perfect angle. His gratitude is silent, but it fills the space between them as he steps onto Bichen and heads west, ears trained for the sound of fluting on the wind.
Wei Ying.