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Song Lan began to wake up to the feeling of sunlight on his skin. He could tell it was sunlight because he could feel its warmth soaking into the side of his face. He began to shift under the mountain of wool blankets and furs, reaching out under the sheets to see if his cultivation partner was still at his side. It was cold on Xingchen’s side. He must have gotten out of bed hours ago.
Slowly, Song Lan began to sit up. He was weak and in pain, recovering from the attack on Baixue Temple that happened only a week ago. His side flared in pain as his broken ribs were jostled by the movement. He swallowed back a gasp of pain, sitting back against the wall and sighing in relief as this position made the pain start to numb away.
Putting a hand to his forehead, he assessed the pain there. His headache had lessened since the last time he awoke. He felt less floaty, more grounded. The medication that Xingchen had force-fed him had caused him to deeply sleep to try and give his body time to heal. He had awoken for short moments when Xingchen had coaxed him into taking another dose or drinking some water or broth. It had been a blur. He could feel his spiritual energy thrumming through his veins, weak and trying to repair his damaged body.
The battle with Xue Yang had left him blinded and grieving. He had very nearly lost his life and would have had Xingchen not intervened. Grief spurred anger and anger was a volatile and dangerous emotion. It had made him less cautious, less level-headed. Xue Yang had gotten the upper hand. He had been able to overpower Song Lan with an ease that absolutely scared Song Lan. He had been too weak to save his martial family. Too weak to even save himself.
Of course, Song Lan knew there was no use in focusing on the past . His entire martial family was dead . He had lost his ability to see . These were things that could not be returned to him. He felt numb from the traumatic events that had unfolded. He felt like a shadow of the man he had once been. This trauma ran so deep into his soul that he felt irreversibly damaged, changed in a way that he couldn’t express with words. Despite this, he hadn’t fully fallen into despair. Hopeless despondency was not possible in the presence of the gentle light that was Xiao Xingchen.
As soon as they had arrived at this abandoned shack, only hours after the massacre, Xingchen had placed Song Lan on immediate bed rest and began to do all he could to heal his physical wounds. He had nearly caused himself exhaustion to the point of a Qi deviation trying to bring Song Lan back to full health. After he had done all he could with his own spiritual energy, he fed him elixirs and medicines to make him sleep through the worst of the physical pains.
Currently, Song Lan could tell that it was close to midday due to the intensity of the sun. Xingchen was most likely out at the market gathering supplies for them. He felt so useless, unable to even chop wood to warm their hearth. Xingchen had been taking care of everything. He wondered if this was his new existence, a useless ex-cultivator. He was still so young. His entire life was still in front of him but he was stuck here. Damaged. Crippled.
Just as the chill of his darkened reality and negativity began to swallow him in its jaws, he heard the front door squeak open followed by the barely audible padding of soft footsteps. He released a breath, relief flooding through his system and causing his shoulders to slump. Xingchen had returned home, always at the best moment to save Song Lan. The pitch blackness of night being chased away by the calm beauty of moonlight.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up, Lan’er. You need to be resting.” Xingchen lightly chided, crossing the room once he had broken through the threshold. Song Lan couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread across his lips, reaching out to find Xingchen’s hand.
The white-clad cultivator quickly wrapped nimble fingers around Song Lan’s, squeezing gently. His palm was warm, dispelling the cold that had settled into Song Lan’s bones. “I am resting still, just sitting.”
Xingchen gently turned Song Lan’s hand over, placing his fingertips on Song Lan’s wrist. “Your Qi is better today. How are you feeling?” Xingchen couldn’t help the smile that sat on his own face. Seeing Song Lan smiling at him made his heart feel lighter, giving him comfort he worried would never return.
“My head hurts less today. I can move my shoulder more.” Song Lan wished he could see the gentle expression on Xincghen’s face. Wanting to see the affection in his dark eyes.
“What about your ribs?” Xingchen wanted to check the bruising there for himself but he would wait until Song Lan allowed him to do so.
“They hurt. I still can’t take a deep breath.” Song Lan took his hand back and carefully moved the blankets away, lifting his shirt to reveal his abdomen.
Xingchen studied the bruising along Song Lan’s pale skin. The color was becoming much lighter, yellow instead of purple. His Qi was too weak to fully heal him so it was going slowly. “It is getting better.” He made Song Lan put his shirt down, quickly surrounding him in the furs and wool blankets. “How… How do your eyes feel?”
Song Lan’s smile faltered before falling completely. “It aches.” He had been trying to ignore the pain as this did not seem to be getting better. It was a constant thumping behind bandages.
“Can I look at how they are healing? I want to clean the wounds and apply some medicine.” Xingchen knew his partner felt the most vulnerable about this injury. It had damaged him in so many ways.
Song Lan averted his ‘gaze’, facing away from Xingchen. “If it will ease your worries.” He did not want Xingchen to see how Xue Yang had mutilated him, knowing the other man blamed himself.
Xingchen gave a sad smile, taking Song Lan’s hand in his and squeezing it again. “I don’t want the wounds to become infected Lan’er. I promise I’ll be quick.” He had prepared a poultice earlier that day and hoped it would help ease the pain and promote healing.
“I worry that you are blaming yourself.” Song Lan replied as Xingchen pulled away to gather his supplies. “I… I was barely conscious, but I heard what he said.”
“This is your fault, Xiao Xingchen. He is suffering because of you.” It was more cruel to Xingchen than it was to Song Lan. Song Lan had lost his family and his eyes, but Xingchen had been forced to carry the blame. “He did this to me, not you Xingchen.”
Xingchen sighed, pausing from laying out his supplies. “I know…” He wanted to believe that, but it was nearly impossible. Song Lan had suffered so much. He had lost his family, his home, his eyes. Xue Yang had crippled his dearest friend and Xingchen wanted to believe that he was not to blame… But he was. Deep down, he blamed himself for not being fast enough, for not being strong enough. In truth, he had barely been able to save Song Lan.
“Xingchen.” Song Lan had his hand outstretched, searching for the other. He was persistent even against the pain. Xingchen grabbed his hand tightly and Song Lan laced their fingers together. “I do not blame you, so please don’t blame yourself.” He squeezed Xingchen’s hand. “You’ve been caring for me and healing me. I would not be alive without you.”
“How can you be so sure that I am not to blame? You… You’ve lost so much Zichen.”
“I haven’t lost you. You, Xingchen, are the reason I am here. You saved me from his cruelty.” Song Lan brought Xingchen’s hand up to his lips and pressed a warm kiss against his knuckles. “Please don’t let him cause you to suffer. I… I will heal, Xingchen. My wounds will heal and I… I will be okay.”
The white-clad cultivator sighed and sadly smiled, caressing the top of Song Lan’s hand with his thumb. “I will try not to think so negatively…” He kissed Song Lan’s knuckles in return and then went back to preparing his medical supplies.
Song Lan sat silently, listening to the rustling of Xingchen’s robes as he moved around. He imagined how he looked bathed in the midday sun; angelic and ethereal. He was so beautiful inside and out, the sun would only enhance his natural charm. He wished he could see his eyes, warmth, and love shining through them.
“The poultice I made should help numb some of the pain. The herbs I used cause a warm numbing effect. It should also help them heal faster..” Xingchen was gentle as he began to unwind the soiled bandages from Song Lan’s face. “Let me know if it hurts while I’m cleaning them. I will try to be as gentle as I can.”
Song Lan hummed in reply, preparing himself to feel pain. It would surely hurt when Xingchen began to cleanse the wounds. He focused on what he was feeling outside of his own body and not the pain that was bound to flare. Gentle touches to his face, a cloth dipped in warm water to wash away the dried blood around his eyes. Song Lan felt everything in detail. Xingchen’s calloused fingers were caressing his cheeks, warmth soaking into him from each fleeting graze. “Your… The wounds are less inflamed. The medicines you’ve been ingesting are working.” Song Lan hummed again.
“I’m about to dab at the wounds. Will you hold my hand?” Xingchen knew that Song Lan was too proud to ask for comfort. Instead, he asked for himself. He hated doing this as much as Song Lan hated to have it done.
Their fingers entwined and Xingchen squeezed him before very gently starting to dab at Song Lan’s eyes. Song Lan’s body seized in pain, an inhale catching in his throat. If he wasn’t already blind, the pain would be blinding. He felt nauseous and dizzy, tightly squeezing Xingchen’s hand in his own as he forced himself to sit still. It was so intense that he knew he would be crying if his tear ducts were still intact. “I’m almost done, Lan’er.” Xingchen gently soothed, blotting away at his other eye and making Song Lan feel lightheaded. His own dark eyes became glassy and he bit down on his lip. He suffered when Song Lan suffered.
“There…” Xingchen watched as the other man slumped a bit, trembling from the agony of his wounds. He gently wiped the sweat away from his forehead, hushing him softly as he tried to soothe some of his discomfort with gentle kisses to Song Lan’s temple and cheek. “You did so well, Lan’er… I-I just need to apply the poultice and then you can rest some more, okay?” He was trying to catch his own breath, caressing the other’s face and desperately trying to keep Song Lan from slipping into unconsciousness again.
Song Lan forced a grunt out, letting Xingchen know that he’d heard him. His head felt fuzzy again and he was fighting to keep himself from slipping into the veil of sleep. Xingchen took his hand back and Song Lan gripped the furs covering his lap. The poultice was immediately warm against his skin. Numbing the pain away with comfort instead of cold. He began to untense, focusing on the herbal smell. “It feels good…”
“It does? Good. I-I haven’t made anything like this before so I was worried that the apothecary lied to me.” Xingchen finished applying the remedy to the wounds before expertly rewrapping fresh bandages around Song Lan’s face. “Why don’t you rest a little longer? I will make some congee with the wild vegetables and mushrooms I gathered this morning. You haven’t eaten in nearly two days. You need to have sustenance to heal.”
“I don’t have an appetite but I’ll try. I hate worrying you so I will do what I can to ease it.” He felt exhausted, almost unable to give Xingchen a reassuring smile. Still, he made sure to smile in his direction, hoping to comfort him in any way that he could.
Xingchen leaned down and pressed a kiss to Song Lan’s temple, his lips smiling against pale skin. “Take a nap, Lan’er. I will wake you when it’s ready. You should be due for another dose of medicine by then too.”
Song Lan hummed. “Later, will you read your little book of poems to me? It has been too long since I’ve read them and I want to hear the one about swallows in the moonlight.”
Xingchen smiled a little more. “Of course, Lan’er. I will read them before we go to bed.” He pulled the blankets up to Song Lan’s chin.
Song Lan relaxed into the bed, allowing himself to drift into sleep with the snug feeling of Xingchen’s presence warming his soul . It would take time for him to heal, physically and mentally, but Xingchen would be at his side every step of the way.