Wangji hurriedly descends the stone steps leading into the dungeon and scans the endless rows of wooden jail cells.
"Wei Ying," he calls out. "Where are you?"
Wangji glides down the rows, browsing each cell, searching for him. After 10 minutes of fruitless searching, he spots a wooden flute hanging on the bars of a distant cell.
Wangji approaches the cell. The Chief Cultivator moves his arms in a circular motion and thrusts his hand forward, channeling magic into the charm-repelling lock. The lock snaps open by itself and he flings the cell door open.
Wei Ying's eyes flutter open groggily.
Wangji falls to his knees before him.
"Lan Zhan?" He says drowsily. "What are you—"
"It's alright, I'm here. I'm getting you out of here," whispers Wangji.
Gently, he hauls Wei Ying's long body into his arms, turning him around so that his cheek lies softly against the stone pavement. He quietly pulls back the edges of his dark robes, exposing deep gashes on his back. The wounds drip with fresh blood, already swelling with redness and pus.
Wangji fights the tears that prick his eyes. He shuts them tightly—only to open them with rigour. He holds his two fingers taut in front of the bloody wounds, swinging them in a tight orbit before pressing both palms surely against the torn skin.
Wei Ying cries out at the rapid burst of intense heat, and the sound jars the cultivator. Wangji has to ignore the smell of burning flesh, forcing himself to complete the spell. The magic finally comes into effect. Wounds begin to close up, tattered flesh knitting cleanly together to become whole. A sense of irrefutable weakness begins to burrow itself into Wangji's bones, limbs, eyes. Still, he doesn't remove his palms.
Only when the whiplashes have completely sown to nothingness does Wangji finally pull away. His legs buckle.
"Whoa, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying lunges forward, grabbing the Gusu Lan Clan Leader's arm before he can collapse.
"I'm fine," lies Wangji, carefully steadying himself against Wei Ying's shoulder. He grips the warm muscle beneath black robes, strong and thriving again. It's enough to make Wangji smile.
"W-What did you do?" gawks Wei Ying. He cranes his neck, attempting to look at his healed wounds. Like a dog chasing his tail.
"I transferred my spiritual energy to you to help you heal," explains Wangji, small smile widening. "You will be able to walk now. Hurry, we haven't got much time. I've arranged for a boat to take us out of Gusu, but the ferryman will only wait for us until dawn. We must leave now—"
"Whoa whoa, wait! You just wanna run away?!"
"We must. Xichen has gone too far. And... I-I can't see you in any more pain," the words trickle out of Wangji's mouth, so faintly he worries Wei Ying didn't hear him. But when he steals a glance at his face, Wangji knows he has.
Wangji reaches for Wei Ying's hand, hanging limp at his side.
To his great surprise, Wei Ying pulls away.
The cultivator gazes at him, puzzled, "What is the matter?"
"...Lan Zhan... thank you for believing me, and I appreciate you doing all of this for me—really! I do... but I don't want to get you into any more trouble than you already are... and, I'm... not like you."
Wangji is confused. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is... well, I mean, I like girls, Lan Zhan. I'm not a cut-sleeve."
For a moment, Wangji says nothing, for he is too stunned and bewildered to say anything. He finally frowns deeply, exclaiming in a clipped tone, "Not funny."
"No, I'm serious!" exclaims Wei Ying. "I'm not gay!"
The words echo in the air, crowding Wangji's headspace. Gay and cut-sleeve and I like girls. Wangji falls silent.
But that's impossible.
"But..." Wangji swallows, scrambling to grab hold of his thoughts. His heart pounds against his ribcage. "Th-that... it makes no sense. That night, Wei Ying. What of that night?"
"What night?"
"The night at my bedchambers."
Wei Ying stares at Wangji, as if he is carrying a grotesque, infectious disease. "Lan Zhan. What are you talking about?"
Wangji stares at him. Whenever Wei Ying means something he says, his brows furrow together in the slightest, and right now, his eyebrows are furrowing...
"I-I don't understand."
"Lan Zhan, you're my best friend, my brother. But I don't see you... that way."
Wei Ying stands up. He gently pushes Wangji out of the cell and closes the cell door firmly.
"Thank you for treating my wounds, but it's best if I stay here and finish my community service. Besides—you're going to marry the beautiful Gu Meiyou! Lucky arse. What do you have to complain about?"