WangXian Thoughts (one shots)

'After the War...'

Wei Ying twisted and turned on his bed at Qinghe-Nie sect. He couldn't sleep since he returned from the cursed place; the burial mounds. His mind was constantly wrecking him with images of his failure and constant screams and shouts from people he didn't know.

The young demonic cultivator whimpered as he saw a rather unpleasant image of a Wen soldier repeatedly splitting Madam Yu open with a dagger, her body jerking with each deep thrust of the knife. Wei Ying flinched and stood, leaning back against the headboard, groaning.

Wei Ying couldn't cry. He just didn't have it in him to cry. He desired to go to the courtyard and scream. He desired to tell everyone what happened, at least the ones closer to him, but unfortunately all his life he had hidden things from everyone, hence speaking about his problems was never welcomed in his own mind.

So, he stood up, staggering a little before walking outside with Chenqing securely tucked into his belt.

He walked about half a li when he spotted a mass of white at the end of the courtyard staring at the sky above. Wei Ying wasn't sure what he was looking at since it was almost past midnight and the sky was black with little stars shining. It looked like Cheng'er was reluctant to show herself.

He was shocked even more because Lan Zhan was breaking one of his own rules. He was quite surprised and keen to know who or what changed the beloved twin jade's adherence to the rules.

Wei Ying bit back the blossoming smile on his lips, moving stealthily towards the man with a forehead ribbon and the grace of an expensive jade.

"Wei Ying." The man said without turning to look who it was. Wei Ying gasped but eventually walked ahead of Lan Zhan and stood facing him; a smile lighting up on his worn-out features.

Lan Zhan stared at the boy, looking different from how he knew him to be three months ago. He has changed, and it was obvious even to the ones who knew next to nothing about the Jiang head disciple.

Hesitating yet desiring a little of the boy practicing unorthodox cultivation, he reached out his hand that had touched no one but him; Wei Ying. His. All of him.

Lan Zhan cupped the boy's cheek gently with his palm, breathing deeply as his heart calmed at the warm and familiar touch. Wei Ying keened into the touch, a solitary pear of a tear falling down until Lan Zhan's palm safely caught it.

Wei Ying observed how Lan Zhan's demeanor changed the moment the tear fell into his palm. Wei Ying was certain he saw grief and agony live within the amber well in his eyes.

He couldn't hold back any longer, and he didn't want to. He fell gracefully into Lan Zhan's cocoon of safety and protection.

Wei Ying sank his nose into the curve of his neck, inhaling the much-missed scent of sandalwood, his fears dispelled. Lan Zhan wrapped his arms around the frail boy and pressed him against his body, leaving no room even for the air to move in between.

He hid the boy within his flowy sleeves, shuddering as Wei Ying sniffed at his neck with his angular nose.

Lan Zhan rubbed a large palm along the boy's skeletal back, severely untensing him, who appeared to be shaky most of the time after his return.

Lan Zhan could feel something was wrong in his bones, and the boy sniffling in his arms only confirmed his suspicions.

"Wei Ying?" the delicate lilt of his voice trembled Wei Ying's body as his arms that lay at his sides wrapped around the taller man's neck.

He burrowed deeper and deeper into his silky white robes in the hopes of finding his way home, and he did.

He found a place to live.