Chapter 16

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Wei Ying woke with a heavy heart, a flood of sadness washing over him. His heartache was overwhelming, a deep anguish that consumed him. Tears streamed down his face as he mourned the loss of A-Yuan, a grief he hadn't been able to process fully before. He grieved for the people who had become his family, for his beloved husband who had endured so much after losing both him and their son. His heart ached for Lan Zhan, who had waited patiently for him for four centuries, only to have their reunion snuffed out so abruptly.

Pushing himself out of bed, Wei Ying was struck by a newfound strength coursing through his veins. He felt more powerful than ever before. He left the room urgently, a determination burning in his eyes. As he swung open the door to his bedroom, he found Wen Ning stationed there, guarding the entrance but dozing off.

"Wen Ning," Wei Ying called softly.

Wen Ning jerked awake, his eyes widening in surprise. "Master Wei, you're awake."

"How much time has passed?"

"It's only been a few hours, but you seem much better. I hunted and fed you while you rested, just like old times."

Wei Ying offered a grateful smile, his hand gently patting Wen Ning's head, a gesture as familiar as the memories flooding back. "Thank you," he whispered, his thoughts drifting to the wolf's loyalty and care.

"And Haikuan?" Wei Ying inquired.

"I settled him in his room. I administered some tonics and tended to his wounds."

With that, Wei Ying headed toward Haikuan's room. At this moment, Wen Qing's presence was of little concern. Dealing with her could wait; Wei Ying was well aware that she wouldn't dare harm him physically now, not with Wen Ning at his side. He held the assurance of Wei Ning's fierce protection, a promise that if any harm befell Wei Ying, Wen Ning's old self would resurface—a fate that Wei Ying was intent on avoiding.

Upon entering Haikuan's chamber, Wei Ying's heart ached anew. Haikuan lay there, his body mangled and wrapped in bandages and herbs. Sleep had taken him, perhaps granted by Wen Ning to ease the agony that surely must have been excruciating.

Gazing at Haikuan's form, Wei Ying's thoughts wandered to Lan Xichen, one of the Twin Jades of Gusu. His memory was vivid, fresh from a dream. Wen Qing had pointed fingers at Lan Zhan for their downfall. Yet, all Wei Ying saw was a brother desperately trying to hold his family together. The memory contradicted Wen Qing's blame. Lan Zhan and Lan Xichen had been victims of fate's cruel game, not architects of their own suffering.

Wei Ying left the room, seeking out Wen Ning once more. "Where is Lan Zhan's body?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"I've prepared graves for everyone, even the wolves have their resting places. But I haven't buried Lan Wangji," Wen Ning responded.

"Take me to him, please," Wei Ying requested, his resolve firm as he prepared to face the truth of his husband's fate.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the symphony of nocturnal creatures began to fill the air, a mournful backdrop to the somber procession led by Wen Ning. He guided Wei Ying through the dimly lit castle grounds, the path winding toward a makeshift graveyard that lay in the shadow of the desolate castle.

Rows of freshly turned earth stretched before them, each mound adorned with flowers, a testament to the lives lost. At the far end stood Lan Zhan's final resting place. The casket lay open, revealing his serene form, an ethereal embodiment of his unwavering grace.

Lan Zhan's features remained as stoic and graceful in death as they had in life. His skin bore the pallor of eternity, and he was dressed not in the sentimental robes he wore to remember Wei Ying, but in the pristine attire of the Lan Sect. One lock of hair, tied with a red ribbon, cascaded freely across his still visage.

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