🔹𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖞 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊🔹

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Was he really going to die without tasting Shijie's pork ribs and lotus root soup one more time? Was he going to die without hearing Jiang Cheng's screams and curses that were filled with fondness only Wei Wuxian could hear? Was he... is he going to die without seeing Lan Wangji one last time? Without telling him how grateful he is that their paths crossed and he got to meet someone so wonderful? That.. He got to marry him and that...

Was Wei Wuxian going to die without telling Lan Wangji just how much more he loved him?

He thought bitterly, chest seizing, and tried to tell himself that it was okay. It was okay that Lan Wangji won't ever know just much Wei Wuxian's heart burned as hot as the sun whenever he saw him. It was okay, he desperately tried to tell himself, but the words weighed like a mountain on his chest and hurt him more than the wounds covering his beaten-up body do.

It was okay because, despite death looming over him like a dark cloud, Wei Wuxian won't go without a fight. He won't die quietly and he won't die calmly. Wen Chao called him a bastard and he couldn't have been more right— Wei Wuxian was a wretched, burdensome bastard who had learned to hide his weaknesses and pain as well as he wielded Suibian (used to wield, his mind reminded him pitifully).

He had gotten so good at appearing confident, invincible, and like nothing can touch him, he might just be able to convince himself of it. Heaven knew he will need every bit of confidence with what he was about to do.

With a deep breath, Wei Wuxian smirked, looks up at Wen Chao, eyes blazing with what felt like the last wisps of life, and spat in his face.

The glop of spit landed across the bridge of Wen Chao's nose. This time, he didn't shriek. He didn't even punch Wei Wuxian across the face. He merely clenched his jaw, shoulders shaking, and took a step back. As he does so, Wen Zhuliu stepped forward, face set in a frown, and kicked Wei Wuxian to the ground like he was nothing more than a dirtied piece of clothing.

For a second, as his body was collapsing to the ground with a grunt, Wei Wuxian felt less than that.

Good, came the familiar word again, this time accompanied by the flutter of heavy eyelids as a sword goes through his shoulder again. Good, good, good, he thought again and again as his breathing grew more and more shallow and the pain burning through his body sharpened, his muscles pulsating and clenching. It hurt so much Wei Wuxian didn't even realize the chants of good good good have turned into please stop please stop please stop, the growing desire for darkness to welcome him into its nothingness growing.

Wei Wuxian won't feel anything in the nothingness.

Oh, how he longed to stop feeling. He was tired of feeling.

It took him too long to realize someone was speaking to him, their voice loud and booming. He could not hear what was being said, but there was a question there, somewhere between the waves of agony and the prayers for it all to end soon. The sword in his shoulder twisted and oh, now he could hear. He could hear someone screaming, but— no, not someone. He was the one screaming, and it was such an anguished and loud scream he could feel the muscles in his throat ripping to shreds.

The sword was pulled out, and Wei Wuxian was yanked upwards by his hair just as he began to think that it was over and that he would be left here to bleed to his death. He was wrong. He was so wrong because, with his next shaky inhale, Wei Wuxian felt the sword digging into another already open and bleeding wound.

Wei Wuxian looked down at his thigh, at the gash that started from the middle of it and ended all the way down to his knee, and thought it was good! He was going to die. Were he to live, he won't be able to use his leg again. The wound is so deep his whole body spasmed in shock, blood pooling around him like a river.

There was so much blood and pain and it hurt! Hurt! It hurt!

"Are you listening to me, Wei Wuxian?" Wen Chao asked with amusement in his voice. When no answer came, he lifted his foot and stepped on Wei Wuxian's bleeding thigh, pressing down until it hurt so much and... and then it stopped hurting. "I thought you'd learn your lesson when I spiked Lan Wangji," a shrill laugh, faraway and fading. "But you saved him from me. You never learn, do you? You're still the same arrogant bastard you've always been."

Wei Wuxian was silent. He wouldn't give Wen Chao the satisfaction of an answer or even simple acknowledgement. He could beat Wei Wuxian down, he could bleed him dry, but he won't ever be able to break him.

No matter what, Wei Wuxian won't break. He won't break. He will take whatever Wen Chao did to him because everything he did to Wei Wuxian was a thing he didn't do to the people Wei Wuxian cared about. Not to Lan Wangji! He could do whatever he wanted and Wei Wuxian will not break. There were many things he wasn't, but if there was one thing he was, then it was stubborn. He was stubborn and he would not break even if every moment that passed felt like a year of pure misery. Even if every breath he took felt like claws shredding through his lungs.

Wei Wuxian would not break because every stab and every broke was one Lan Wangji didn't have to suffer through, was one his husband didn't have to suffer through, was one Lan Zhan —

"Let's see if you'll still smile when I throw you in Burial Mounds. Your husband will rot to death in that cave while you rot to death among those corpses!"

And that was the exact moment, Wei Wuxian broke!


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