Dreams.

A vision…a time capsule of one’s past.

Often times, they are a manifestation of one’s unconscious thoughts. The kind that the mind wishes to fulfill, scenarios that could or could not happen that are allowed to run their course.

Other times, they’re memories -- forgotten, fragmented, or even changed. Bringing forth reveries that could be doubtful, but the emotional attachment was still the same.

Without these reminders, visions, inventions or imaginations wouldn’t exist. Most importantly, human connections may cease. We need dreams for growth as much as we do for daytime ponderings.

But there are times when dreams bring sleepless nights to those whose hearts were no longer the same - damaged, from either fear or tears. Those memories were brought to the surface whenever consciousness was lost.

The Wei family he was born from, the Jiang Sect which had adopted him, and the Wen clan he chose to protect. Warmth, shelter, and purpose.

From the time of his resurrection, not for a single day had he dreamed of anything other than his lost families. These dreams started with laughter, teasing tones and comforting words. All the good times he wished to return to, until his worst fear was brought forth. In those moments, when the end was near - their voices would begin to fade, their fingers slipping from his outstretched hands - that’s when the ghosts of the past would be resurrected, covered in crimson blood within the smoke of darkness.

The stronger the emotions, the more vivid the visions.

A punishment well deserved. After all, he had killed thousands of innocents at Nightless City.

Awake, Wei Wuxian could smile, laugh and play, but when evening arrived, his demons came back to haunt him. Until the day he took his last breath, these vengeful spirits would never let him rest.

However, there was an exception. Lan Zhan’s melody, the light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing could dissipate the resentful energy like HanGuang Jun’s tune. His music was the strongest medicine, and admittedly, Wei Wuxian’s only cure.

Until the day Lan Wangji left him on that mountainside. Since then, the nightmares had returned.

On a few occasions though, when Lan SiZhui was present, out of desperation, he had asked the youth to play HanGuang Jun’s tune. Although the song did not suppress the nightmares completely, it was enough to ease him to sleep for the most part. That’s when Wei Wuxian realized - the original Master is still the best - but there was no way he would crawl back to Gusu to ask HanGuang Jun to help him sleep.

Wei Wuxian could only imagine HanGuang Jun’s reaction if he were to show up, demanding the Chief Cultivator to play his original song, like a child’s request for a bedtime story. A delicate attachment he did not wish to form, but still yearned.

Forever long, he always knew, he missed the music of Second Young Master Lan’s; the distinctive notes, the powerful rhythm, the waves that pushed and pulled, easing his dissociative mind and saving him from the abyss of his own making.

Gentle as his touch, soft as his smile, his notes floated freely among the floating lanterns of their youth. Wei Wuxian wanted, he still craved. The music of Guquin’s song, the name he had yet known.

But then, God must have taken pity on him, because now within the dreamlike world, the song he never thought he could ever hear again, was playing in the back of his subconscious. Plagued by the past that refused to let him go, returned was the melody that took away his woe.

Half conscious, the panicked Wei Wuxian reached forth, a familiar world appeared within the haze. “Lan Zhan!” he cried.

A hand instantly caught his, the brilliant light at his tunnel’s end appeared. “Wei Ying.”

Bright, so bright the high mountain’s light beamed. Its god had chosen the most deserving form, the radiance almost blinded his sight.

Wei Wuxian squinted, trying to clear his head with a shake, but he soon felt a cool cloth on his face. Someone was wiping away the cold sweat on his forehead. “Lan Zhan?” he questioned again, afraid it would be just a wishful dream, like it always was before.

“I’m here,” the quiet voice confirmed again, bringing comfort he had almost forgotten.

Safe, he was safe. As long as Lan Zhan was here, everything would be fine.

After he finished tending to Wei Wuxian and placed the neatly folded cloth on the table, Lan Wangji turned to ask, “How are you feeling?”

By now, Wei Wuxian had fully regained consciousness, although his head still ached and his voice remained rough. When he tried to rise he felt Lan Wangji’s arm around him, easing him up.

The closeness made him nervous, and when he’s nervous, he chatters. Offhandedly, Wei Wuxian rambled, “Like I was trampled by hundreds of living dead, kicked in the ass by Apple...rolled off the steps of Koi Tower, any of those, take your pick.”

Instantly, he felt Lan Wangji freeze at the brusque tone of his answer. Wangji’s head lowered, the arm around his back shook slightly. Wei Wuxian started to say more, but instinct told him not to. He continued to help him into a sitting position. The action was familiar, hence Wei Wuxian allowed HanGuang Jun to perform his check-up without question.

However, the man was more attentive this time around. Not only did he check his pulse in silence, but he also undressed him without a word. For unknown reasons, even to himself, Wei Wuxian bit his tongue and remained passive, allowing Lan Wangji to do what he must. Which he regretted soon after, because as it turns out, HanGuang Jun wasn’t just healing or giving him spiritual energy, because the man also took upon himself to clean his body, wiping down the excessive sweat with the cloth in hand.

Speechless, Wei Wuxian’s face began to flush. When he was unconscious, it would be understandable, but this time he was fully awake, aware, and could perform the act himself. He wasn’t an invalid, was he? He still hadn’t had the chance to move around, because Lan Wangji was still not done playing nursemaid.

Wei Wuxian had to admit, Second Young Master Lan was an expert in everything he did, even when washing another’s body. He tried to not pay heed, but it was more difficult as time passed. His fever was obviously getting worse as the dizziness had returned. Could he be sicker than he thought?

Suddenly, Lan Wangji stopped, leaned closer, and slid his hand around Wei Wuxian’s neck.

Wei Wuxian gulped, his heart stopped. Awake, he was fully awake!

Too close, with their faces almost touching, just the tip of their noses brushed, lingered. Wei Wuxian gasped like he had touched fire and immediately pulled back, but Lan Wangji pressed their foreheads together. Wei Wuxian shut his eyes, he didn’t know why, but he did. The more he breathed, the more out of breath he became. Maybe he would faint after all.

With a quivering voice, he stuttered, “Ha-Ha-HanGuang Ju-Jun…”

“You’re burning again,” Lan Wangji remarked.

“Huh?” Wei Wuxian blink, once, twice, and a few more times. Regaining his senses once the words finally registered.

Isn't it your fault my fever got worse? And who the hell taught you to check body temperature this way? It was your brother, Lan Xichen wasn’t it? Zewu Jun, the brother complex enthusiast!

But those outbursts didn’t have the chance to leave his mouth because the thought of Lan Xichen pressing foreheads with his brother was a captivating vision to behold.

So beautiful in fact, Wei Wuxian’s head remained in the clouds with those brotherly love images when Lan Wangji unexpectedly released him, and said, “You will need more days to recover from the fever.”

Wei Wuxian was still debating if this was an actual dream when Lan Wangji began to help him put back on the undergarments, which were obviously not Wei Wuxian’s.

Tainted by blood and resentment energy, Crimson and the Black are the only fitting colors for Yiling Laozu. While White, the color of the Gusu Sect, is a virtuous color, pure and righteous.

The white cloth was not quite transparent, but Lan Wangji hesitated before he tied the sash. His questioning gaze lingered on the scars on Wei Wuxian’s chest. We Wuxian felt a stronger need to cover his body and immediately pulled the collar together to cover the scars.

"Old injuries,” Wei Wuxian answered the questioning eyes.

"Those aren't old."

"How would you know? Besides, they’re already healed. What makes you think they’re not old? It's not like…” He paused in thought for a moment as the memory returned. “Oh right, you did heal me after the Koi Tower incident. Second Young Master Lan, don't you feel embarrassed checking me all over? Aren’t you too thorough?"

His eyes remained firm. Ignoring Wei Wuxian’s jab, Lan Wangji didn’t break, "Wei Ying.”

In truth, Wei Wuxian had lost track of the number of times he had had that talk with every single Gusu Lan disciple sent his way. He knew if he didn't, Lan Wangji would just find other means to keep him safe. He owed the man enough as it was.

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