Chapter Text
His job was simple today: follow and watch. He was to ensure there were no problems with Ouyang-zongzhu’s departure.
Or, at least, no further problems. The Ouyang sect heir problem had already been solved, but it was vital no other problems had a chance to crop up until they were no longer a Luó concern.
Luó-zongzhu bid his visitor a warm goodbye, making promises to keep in touch and to plan a reason to visit with one another again soon. The two parted amicably and as soon as the last Ouyang disciple passed through the palace gate, he took up his duty of observation. He was a shadow amongst the crowd and across the rooftops, remaining a fair distance away at all times as he followed the Ouyang retinue further and further from the Bee Palace.
It wasn’t until they were nearing the middle of the market that the first sign of trouble made itself known.
Jiang-zongzhu stood there, the young Jin Sect Leader by his side, talking stiffly with Ouyang-zongzhu. He was not close enough to know for sure what was said between the three of them, but from their postures and facial expressions, he knew the conversation was not an entirely pleasant one. Especially for the intruders, who seemed to grow more and more distressed by the second. In fact, it wasn’t long before Jiang-zongzhu gave a sneer and a bow, prompting Ouyang-zonghzu to take his leave. They then swiftly made their way further into the crowd, disappearing among the people.
He let them go, his concern focused on his target for now.
They were in Luó territory, the intruders would not have time to do much damage before he got back.
Unlike Jiang and Jin-zongzhu, Ouyang-zongzhu seemed to have no reason to hurry. He took his time leaving Luó territory, stopping here and there to inspect the market stalls and their wares or to discuss something with one of his attending disciples. He watched Ouyang-zongzhu purchase a bag of snacks and a small wooden charm at one of the stalls, then a collection of romance poems at another.
All the while he kept out of sight and well away, watching and waiting for signs that he might need to intervene.
Unfortunately, unlike the Luó disciples, it seemed keeping to a decent schedule was not of the highest priority to Ouyang-zonghzu or his followers. On top of that, they did nothing that would give him a good enough reason to step in and hurry them along, no matter how much they all might have benefited.
Finally, however, they left the city and made their winding way further and further down the road. Then, as the sky began to melt into a mix of deep reds and oranges, Ouyang-zonghzu stepped past the Luó borders and was no longer his problem.
He was gone in an instant, making his way back towards the Bee Palace.
The first thing he did was report to Luó Jianjun, one of the more senior disciples though he did not feel connected in the way that other disciples did or should. It was strange, but nothing worth questioning. Afterall, i f Luó-zonghzu had no reason for concern, then neither did he.
(Knowing who he’s standing in front of fills him with a flash of blinding, murderous rage, then nothing more)
Luó Jianjun was pleased to hear that Ouyang-zonghzu was able to depart without issue, but worried by the news of two uninvited sect leaders roaming around the market, free to poke their noses into other’s business.
He was ordered to find the inn they were staying in and search their rooms. Search the entire inn if he had to, but see what they might be up to while in their territory. Perhaps try to apprehend them if the situation called for it. He nodded in understanding, this was nothing he hadn’t had to do before.
Night had fallen by then. With another disciple joining him, he made his journey down the shadowed, empty streets. There was no one who would see them and know what they’d done come morning. Therefore, no one who would be able to trace their work back to Luó-zongzhu, who would inevitably be pleased at the removal of Jiang-zonghzu from his list of worries.
In fact, if anyone could benefit from Luó-zongzhu’s teachings, it was probably a lying snake like Jiang-zongzhu.
They landed on the roof with barely a sound and stepped quickly from window to window. His partner led the way, using the uneven wood of the shutters to determine which room they were looking for. He waited patiently as the other disciple slipped his sword between the shutter panels, slipping the latch keeping them closed open. There was a barest hint of a warning in the connection between them to be ready. Jiang-zhongzhu’s power was nothing to be underestimated.
Relying on the element of surprise, his partner burst through the window - only to be thrown back and off the roof almost immediately. Knowing his fallen partner would hurry to catch up, he rushed forward, managing to get through the window before Jiang-zonghzu had the chance to do the same to him. He made for the young Jin-zongzhu, hoping to redirect Jiang-zhongzhu’s focus and to throw both of them off balance.
Jiang-zhonghzu blocked him easily, Jin-zongzhu quick to jump into the fight after that and swipe at him with his own sword. It was the window they needed to get the whip around his arm, and the electric shock that followed sent him to his knees. The next thing he was truly aware of was being pulled to the floor, another burst of electricity forcing his sword from his hand.
“What do you want?” Jiang-zongzhu snarled, darting forward with his sword drawn and ready. He allowed the blade to sink into his arm, using the opportunity to hit Jiang-zhongzhu back with a burst of spiritual energy. He had to dodge another swipe from Jin-zongzhu for his trouble.
“Start talking!” The young sect leader cried, just barely missing the chance to slit his throat.
They continued to struggle, the two of them an even match against him as they wove and dodged around each other. Protecting one another while they attacked, doing their best to overpower him.
Then Jiang-zhongzhu struck him with the handle of his spiritual weapon, landing a solid blow to his mask and causing pain to erupt like an explosion inside his head.
Something was instantly not right with the world. Both too hot and too cold, he felt like he was breaking apart, every fiber of his being screaming with the urge to rip themselves to shreds. He was pretty sure he’d been sent into the wall, but the resulting pain was merely a drop in the ocean of sudden and overwhelming wrongness he was drowning in. The world was tilting, yet completely still. He was alive and dead all at once. He was both on fire and frozen solid.
He was in hell.
Then world tipped to the side and he was no longer aware of anything else.
Lan Wangji came to riding the crest of a wave of rage, then despair. His limbs weren’t cooperating, his body failed to respond to him as he was pulled forward into a sitting position rather than sprawled out on the floor as Jiang Wanyin, of all people, knelt before him. Something trickled down his forehead, the sensation just one of many uncomfortable things he was experiencing.
The room was dark, too dark to truly help him make sense of where he was. His head hurt too much to try anyway.
Jiang-zongzhu was yelling at him.
“- Where’s Wei Wuxian?!”
A pale, lifeless body in a prison cell. His own screams filling his ears as he was dragged away from the corpse of his husband.
The pain was overwhelming.
Jiang-zongzhu took to slapping at his face.
“Lan Wangji!”
“Jiujiu…” The word was whispered from somewhere in the darkness.
So Jin Ling was with them, another witness to Lan Wangji’s impending break down.
Jiang-zonghzu was beginning to sound a bit desperate as Lan Wangji struggled to put his mind in order. He continued to call for him, to try and get him to focus on something other than the deep and bitter grief beginning to consume him.
“Hey!” Jiang-zongzhu called, though it was difficult for Lan Wangji to follow, “Did they do the same thing to Wei Wuxian? Lan Wangji!”
There was a loud something crack somewhere, nothing that helped Lan Wangji free himself from the fog that consumed his mind.
“We have to go!” Jin Rulan cried, and Lan Wangji did not miss the note of fear in his voice.
They were in danger.
Was he being moved?
“Start running!” He heard Jiang Wanyin order his nephew, “Kill anything that moves!”
They were in danger. They were in danger and they couldn’t properly defend themselves because of him. They would be taken, left to rot in a prison cell with poisoned food. Wei Ying would be furious.
Wei Ying…
That’s right… Wei Ying was dead… left all alone in that cold cell by himself as Lan Wangji was dragged away from him…
Lan Wangji had to go back for him.
By now, he was aware enough to know he was being lowered onto a bed. Above him, Jiang Wanyin stood looking guilty.
Lan Wangji realized he wasn’t angry. Or betrayed. If anything, he was numb. The cold reality of the fact that he would only slow them down settled over him like a stone. It pinned him further to the bed, his muscles lacking the adrenaline necessary to force him up despite the odds of success.
“I’m sorry.” Jiang Wanyin hissed, and after countless years of hating one another, it was surreal to realize the man meant it. “We’ll come back, I promise.”
Then he reached out, squeezing Lan Wangji’s arm as a show of camaraderie, the first real thing Lan Wangji was able to process since he’d woken up in this dark room that didn’t want to make him scream in rage. If anything, it was a strange and small sort of comfort. To know he was not being carelessly abandoned and that, if anything, they knew he was here and wanted to rescue him.
And then Jiang Wanyin was gone. Just as their attackers broke into the room, he slipped out the door and out of Lan Wangji’s sight. The owl masks glinted in the dim light, and Lan Wangji merely watched them enter, uninterested in trying to stop them. A few pursued Jiang-zonghzu through the door, while the others hung back. One regarded him silently, tilting their head like a curious bird before they stepped forward.
He didn’t care. There was nothing he could do to stop them as they pulled him from the bed. There wasn’t enough strength in his limbs to fight back as they pulled him through the window, like thieves in the night, and carried him down the market street like a sack of potatoes.
He gave a token protest as he was returned to that awful dungeon, but his heart wasn’t in it. In truth, even if he’d had the ability to fight back and free himself, he never would have been able to leave.
He wouldn’t leave Wei Ying behind. Living or not, he would not leave him in this awful place alone and likely scared. He’d failed Wei Ying once, he would not do it again.
They took him back to a familiar cell. There was a pair of Luó disciples waiting, and it was barely a fight as they forced a new mask over his face. He still threw his arms out, tried to claw or punch them away, but it was a laughable attempt.
Lan Wangji decided to spend his last moments of struggling remembering Wei Ying, trying to picture him as he was and not as he’d last seen him.
He came to knowing he had failed in his assignment and allowed the targets to escape. He would not, and could not, fail Luó-zongzhu like that again. He resolved to be stronger next time, ready to deal the killing blow if he had to.
(He had tasted freedom for the barest of seconds, but without Wei Ying beside him it had been a hollow reprieve. This brief flash of awareness was spent wishing he had the ability to cry before it was gone.)