Mdzs Oneshots

The Truth Part 2 ( Drunk Lan Zhan 9)

In this Game of Life, one of the hardest things to say is "Thank You," and "I'm sorry".

In this life, one can mourn and cherish the lives of many, and countless words will slip through one's mouth. But the words 'Thank you' and 'I'm sorry' only ever mean one thing. Lacking.

But before anything, the sight of Unclean Realm was swept away, leaving behind the tall, bloodied cliffs of Nightless City...

The familiar, warped arches of the Unclean Realm were ripped away, replaced by unforgiving cliffs of onyx and crimson, stained and drenched in rain, blood and tears. A sight none of the elders wished to see. A sight that the youngers seemed to awe. But all it invoked was the drying up of the gut, and memories none of them would ever forget.  A city that none of them would wander, a city so entangled with greed and bloodshed, that none would ever visit. But obligation beckoned. And the truth? The truth was far more important than anything, a weight they unanimously agreed to bear. A weight that some crumbled under. 

The sulfuric tang of acid and decay prickled their senses, muddied, entwined and entangled with the sweet, sickly smell of lotuses , infiltrating their senses. To both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, this scene was surreal, something neither wished to relive. A lifetime ago, a decade ago, a I'm-not-leaving ago. A hand slipped through the other, and small, reassuring nods were exchanged. Back to the scene at hand....

If the Chief Cultivator was nervous earlier, his anxiousness was nothing as compared to now. He blanched, face paler than that of Lan robes, and his eyes darted around, seeking escape. Escape that he'd never find. Flitting around, his gaze landed on the Second Jade of Lan, who glared at him. Funny. How the two Jades of Lan looked alike, but yet so different. Lan Huan had never looked at him like that, only ever looked at him with warmth and kindness, but Lan Wangji's eyes were as cold as ice, and sent a bone-chilling shiver down his spine. Soon, Meng Yao found himself drenched in a veil of cold sweat, and decided to avert his gaze, avoiding things he'd done so long ago, and never wished to see again. Running. Escaping. 

Wei Wuxian could feel opposition pulsing through the ball of slivers between his palm, and he frowned, glaring at the short toad, only to find him staring back at him. This bastard. The truth will be revealed one way or another. So he pushed against reflexive slivers of resistance, fiercely, adamant the truth be freed, as it should have been years ago.

  But however much Wei Wuxian tried to shake off Meng Yao, he couldn't completely cut him off. This was his brain, after all. His memories, but still, he rammed his power forward, making sure these deeds were exposed. But this time, his memory came in flashes. The unmistakable, slunken figure of the Chief Cultivator pressed against a cliff, sneaking warily. A brilliant vermilion mark hovering above a carved tourmaline flute. A winding, deliberate tune weaved its way through the disciples, that stirred up something within them, a sense of dread, odious and looming, before coming to an abrupt halt.  Then came a blinding swirl of gold on gilt, a clash of swords, parrying, deflecting and lunging forward, an uneven match, before a sly glint of silver shot forward, embedding itself within a gold, once-proud chest. A once-complacent heart. Not my fault, was all Wei Ying thought of, and familiar faces showed in his view of vision. A fond face, one he knew so well, and one he sorely missed. A face, that, if all had gone well, would still be his,  another, of a friend, a brother he'd nearly lost. Squeezing his beloved's hand, relaxing, he let the diorama he'd memorized for so long play out. 

Let his best friend kill his brother-in-law. Let the chains sting him, slash him and scar him, before ending him. Before he ended his own life. 

A familiar yet not-so-familiar face cut across their eyes, sullen and sunken, drawn and tired. Eyes that once crinkled with joy were replaced by virtually lifeless eyes, that seemed almost blank, were it not for the slight spark within it. Eyes that glittered with tears,  bittersweet, and cheeks encrusted with dust, grime and blood. Lips that drew themselves into a grotesque, sad smile, that grew more and more distant, that blurred, before vanishing into nothing. 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan's arms shot out, swiftly drawing his distraught soulmate into his embrace. Shaking badly, Wei Ying clung on too Lan Zhan, gripping him tightly. His shoulder grew wet with tears, but to him, nothing else mattered as much as Wei Ying did. He patted, his soulmate's back, rubbing his back in circles, repeating words like a mantra. 'You're okay. You'll be fine. I'm here. You're not alone. "

"Let go." Nightless City melted before them, and they were back where they'd first began. 

------------------A/N-----------------

836 words! Hey guys, I'm kinda back ! Since I left you guys on a cliffhanger for so long, I thought I'd work on this sooner, and here we are! We're finally reaching the end of Drunk Lan Zhan, and I thank you guys so much for taking the time to read my stories. You've no idea how much it means to me, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! ❤️