Thread by @headBONDmeLWJ

it’s known across the major sects and cultivation world, that lan wangji is the best guqin player in gusulan, and is the most well-versed than anyone else in their lan sacred qin techniques. the public has only heard of zhaohun evocation, anxi rest, wenling inquiry,

xian sha shu chord assassination and qing xin yin song of clarity. no matter how great he is, song of clarity still didn’t work. it still didn’t work for wei wuxian. why hadn’t it work? what went wrong? not that it matters anymore. he's gone.

wei wuxian is gone.

“wei-gongzi... is dead.” lan xichen’s words ring loud and clear, every single, waking moment whenever lan wangji breathes.

what people dont know is that there's another sacred technique that is never talked about by even the elders. gusulan's inner disciples know of it, and have

only read about it briefly in their lessons.

yiwang, oblivion.

it is a technique that can one that will wipe away one’s memory.

lan wangji thinks of it as a blessing that a-yuan seems to not remember anything of the painful past. he’s much, much happier now and that is all lan wangji wishes for him. he makes sure he’s well cared for, well loved. and a-yuan is, even though lan qiren doesn’t say or show so.

“wei ying, a-yuan is safe and he is home,” lan wangji’s heart informs as he plays inquiry on wangji. he sits alone in the four corners of his jingshi. it’s called the silent room. but it’s never felt so... silent before.

it echoes in silence,
it rings in silence.
just silence.

his back, scarred by his sect’s discipline whips burn. but nothing compares to the ache in his heart, and the non-beating of it.

notes of his guqin float in the cold, still and quiet air. his finger hover over the seven strings of guqin, his companion every night and day.

lan wangji stops strumming inquiry.

his thumb finger on the first guqin string.
his index finger on the third.

oblivion… sounds like a good idea after all.

“it seems that i am not strong enough, wei ying. they call me hanguang-jun, the light bearing lord. but little do they know that i bear no light in this world, not when you are gone.

i don’t think i am able to hold on any longer. would you forgive my selfishness, wei ying?"

and then that very night, the cloud recesses, the moon and the magnolia trees bear witness to the sounds of wangji’s strings. they hear the melody that the melodic, melancholic notes of gusulan’s sacred qin technique form perfectly. it is the first time in so, so long that

lan qiren and the thirty three elders heard this music.

no one talks about what happened that night anymore.

not lan xichen.
not a single soul.

they're not lying about anything, so they're not breaking any rules. at least that's what they tell themselves when they go to bed.

(thumb finger!?? do ignore that mistake....)

the next day comes as quickly as it ended. lan wangji is just... lan wangji, second of the twin jades of gusu. and the name wei wuxian or the yiling laozu doesn’t ring any bell at all. the words wei wuxian just passes by, like any other name or word.

as an instruction passed down by lan qiren, no one in the cloud recesses mentions the names wei wuxian or the yiling laozu.

not that anyone would also mention the name wei ying. because that is what only lan wangji says—was what he said.

wei ying, forgotten.
a passing memory.

wei ying, just an erased memory.

days and night go by. lan wamgji is still hanguang-jun in the eyes of the common people and the cultivation world. but somehow... somehow when he saw a red ribbon that a little boy wears in caiyi town, he remembered something.

he remembered that his eyes would always look for that particular red string. he remembered how his heart would flutter at the sight of it, how his heart would skip a beat or two, or even three.

he remembered a smile, one so bright that it was able to pierce through the darkest of clouds atop the cloud recesses.

he remembered a smile that would make his heart smile.

lan wangji isn't supposed to be in caiyi town today. but he finds himself steering his feet on bichen to that direction. he flies across biling lake.

he's been here multiple times before. but why does it feel so different now, looking from above? he finds himself wanting to

go fly lower, as if wanting to reach out to find something.

as if wanting to reach out to hold on to something.

lan wangji cannot shake the feeling off him, but he ignores it for now.

another half a li until he touches caiyi town grounds. it's bustling in silence, as always. he still doesn't know why he's here, why he wants to be here. sheathing bichen and wangji strapped behind his back, he walks.

“tianzi ziao! a jar of tianzi ziao!” a stall seller holds up two wine jars, dangling them under his hands.

tianzi xiao... lan wangji suddenly hears a voice say it. he hears it in his head. he hears it all too clearly. it's a sing-song voice. it's familiar, and yet... unknown.

and as quickly as that voice in his head emerges, it's drowned out.

just like that.
as if it was just a memory.

“ey gongzi, would you like a jar of tianzi xiao?” the seller offers, presenting the jade with two wine jars.

lan wangji wants to say no. he knows he should, as it’s the right thing to do. he knows that. but instead,

“yes. make it four,” he says.

he doesn’t know why he bought them. but all he knows is he wanted to and that he really wanted to. he shouldn’t be bringing it back to his jingshi. it’s forbidden. it’s against the rules. but that’s what his mind says, not what his heart says. and this feeling...

familiar.

he knows what he should do. he should find a hidden compartment in his bedchamber and hide them, until he makes sense of all of this. ever since he saw that little boy's red ribbon a fortnight ago, lan wangji hasn’t been at peace. every night he would go to bed at 9pm, only to

fall asleep well after midnight. he should be ashamed of himself but he surprisingly doesn't. all he's been feeling is emptiness, loneliness. but he shouldn't. everyone he loves is around him as they always have been. nothing's changed.

he shouldn't feel lonely, right?

at least that's what he tells himself, what he convinces himself just so he can manage to fall asleep. but when the following day comes, it's rinse and repeat. it's the same all over again. lessons, training, small talks, dinner, discussion conferences. night? silence. loneliness

seems to always find its way back to him.

the only time it hadn't felt this way was when he had a glance of that red ribbon. it was just one glance, as the child ran past him on the streets of caiyi town.

it felt so familiar. it felt like.. felt like home. it felt safe.

the tianzi xiao seller thanks lan wangji for his purchase, and the latter reciprocated with a slight bow of his head.

holding on to the wine strings ever so tightly, as if they meant a lot to him, lan wangji continues his journey.

journey to where? he doesn't know.

"gege... gege!" a small hand tugs on his robes.

lan wangji turns around carefully and slowly, as to not scare away the voice that calls out to him.

a smiling little girl stands behind him, carrying a basket in her other free hand.

"gege wants some loquats? they very sweet!"

lan wangji lowers himself, so he could take what those little hands offer him—three round loquats.

"gege buy?" the smile the little girl wears is infectious.

"mn, gege buy."

he thought that these words would never come out of his mouth, but they did. he said them with such ease. as if he was answering "yes i do want the loquats" to a question referred by someone else a long, long time ago.

"gege want buy how many? all?" there's that smile again.

"all," there and then, lan wangji smiles for the very first time in a long time.

he may only be carrying four jars of tianzi xiao and a basket filled with loquats, but he's never felt more purposeful in a moon or two.

he keeps them in his qiankun sleeves until he steps into his jingshi. there’s a perfect spot in his bedchamber. it’s somewhere in between his study table and the shelf that holds all his scriptures. he waits until after dinner with shufu and xiongzhang is over.

is it impatience that's running through his very veins as they dine together? it probably is. as all he wants to do is run back to his bedchambers to check on his belongings that he's left on his study table before he was called for dinner.

half a shichen's dinner feels like a day. lan xichen can see through him. he can see his brother's impatience and that something's been bothering him.

"wangji, you may retire to your quarters. i need you in the hanshi earlier than usual tomorrow," his brother dismisses him.

in return, lan wangji gives his brother a look that only the two jades can fathom and decipher.

"i will take my leave now, shufu, xiong-zhang," he bows his head as he leaves the main hall, headed back to his jingshi.

lan wangji wants to run. he wants to run through the hall, across the pagoda, along the wooden walkway.

he may have very well ran, he doesn't actually know.

he slides the jingshi doors close behind him.

lan wangji isn’t sure how he knows that /that’s/ a perfect spot. he just... knows. he takes his belongings to spot. he never saw it before, until now. but it’s there.

the compartment is there.

how? why? who'd do such a thing?

he takes the wine jars and lowers himself so he can open the hinge of the compartment.

there is already a box. a box properly tied and sealed with utmost care. something only lan wangji would pay intricate attention to. he reaches out for it. it's heavy, he realises.

his heart also seems to be beating faster than usual, a feeling that he hasn’t felt for what seems like a lifetime ago.

with dexterous fingers, he removes the lid of the box.

a red ribbon, two existing jars of tianzi xiao, a piece of parchment, and a dried herb peony.

the jars that he holds slip from his fingers, breaking as they hit the ground. his hands start to tremble. reaching out for the parchment slowly, he unrolls it.

what he sees is a drawing of himself.

then... then everything starts to come back.

bit by bit.
piece by piece.

he holds the parchment close to his heart, as if it’s something dear. and that’s when he realises, that’s when he remembers. tears start filling up his eyes as he shuts them. he sees a drawing of himself in the library pavilion. he remembers how hard he was trying not to look at

the man in front of him, for he was afraid that if he ever looked at him, he'd never be able to look away.

"wangji-xiong, spare me a glance, wouldn't you?"

lan wangji cries out. he cries his heart out. he remembers it all now. he remembers how he tried to forget.

“i remember it all, wei ying. i remember you.”

now he understands, oh does he understand. so many moons have passed and with every sun that rose, he lived every single day with a void in his heart. it was a void that nothing was able to fill. it was impossible to fill.

even the most sacred technique that wipes one’s memories would not work for long, when they are memories held dear to the heart.

even the most sacred technique would falter, when you love.

lan wangji? he loved.

he has loved. he loves. and he will continue to love.

—

END.

satan bond says hello, and thank you for making it down here! just a little headcanon that sometimes lwj isn’t so strong, that sometimes he may just want to give up. but what if he really did, what if he really gave up because it’s too much for him to handle?

even the strongest of rocks will erode over time. but even though he gave up, even though he was once hopeless, love always triumphs. love will always find its way back to him. and when it does, giving up on it is no longer an option. he will then persevere, and preserve the best

memories he carries of wei wuxian, of his wei ying.

because fast forward another decade or so, they will be reunited at dafan shan. (thank you in advance, nie huaisang!)

once again, thank you for reading this short story and i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing!

and to @vaneszq_, thank you for illustrating the scene so perfectly. thank you for breaking my heart and mending it again. thank you.