Must. Get. Up.

Must. Get. Up.

Must. Get. Up.

An all-encompassing wave of white hot, burning agony flushed through Lan WangJi, but the mantra in his head and heart was relentless.

Must. Get. Up.

Must. Get. Up.

He opened his eyes. Was this the Jingshi? Before he could focus his blurred vision, exhausted eyes rolled back, succumbing to blissful unconsciousness once more.

Must. Get. Up.

Must. Get. Up.

Aching eyelids again forced themselves open, obedient to Lan WangJi's strong will. Yes, this was the Jingshi. Lan WangJi moved only his eyes, inspecting what was in his sight.

Unchanged. Everything looked the same. Everything felt different. The news delivered before the blessing of oblivion echoed hollowly in a heart now empty of hope. The pain took him once more and all went black.

Must. Get. Up.

Must. Get. Up.

This time the pain in his heart was greater than the agony of his body, and Lan WangJi slowly rose to sit on the side of his bed. He panted with the effort, steeling himself against the torment that was so nearly beyond bearing. He looked at his robes, folded neatly nearby and forced one reluctant hand to fetch them from the stool. Only a foot away and the effort took nearly all he had.

Must. Get. Up.

By sheer will, Lan WangJi forced trembling arms into sleeves, drew bottoms up over legs shaking from pain. Slowly, slowly, with infinite care he got dressed.

"Bichen!"

One word, almost a gasp, and his spiritual weapon came obediently at his command. Swaying, he stood, lurching to the door and outside. The pain. All his being, mind, body and soul, was reduced to pain. He couldn't tell if it was his heart or his body being shredded, nor did he care for the difference any longer.

The disciple bringing food and clean dressings for his wounds watched in speechless disbelief as Lan WangJi mounted his sword and left Cloud Recesses.

Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Wei Ying.

Only one thought in his mind, Lan WangJi flew directly to Burial Mounds. At his destination he stumbled from his sword, falling heavily to hands and knees. He remained for long minutes, unable to move, his damaged body longing only for rest and his heart demanding it move.

Must. Get. Up.

Bichen substituted for a crutch and Lan WangJi struggled to his feet. His pristine white robes were now liberally decorated with blood from the open wounds crisscrossing his back and shoulders, curling towards his chest, but they meant nothing to him. Nothing but the fact they were holding him back. Making it so difficult to move. The grime on his robes, ground into the front where his knees hit the dirt, went unnoticed. All that mattered was finding his Wei Ying. Something of Wei Ying. Some proof that his love had once lived, been real, been here, been his...

Lan WangJi staggered into the Demon-Subdue Cave. Wei Ying? Leaning on the walls, using Bichen for support, he crept around every corner. Wei Ying? He sifted through the debris, searching, searching and never finding. Wei Ying? The pain was overwhelming, and he collapsed onto the flat-topped boulder that had once served as bed for his beloved Wei Ying. Wei Ying? His soul kept calling, without cease. Struggling to breathe, he lay back and allowed the cold stone to provide a slight relief to his burning back. Weeping, he welcomed the darkness as it took him once more.

Must. Get. Up.

That voice from within called again.

Must. Get. Up.

Again the call, insistent, prodding and begging him to rise again. His mind, as battered as his body after 33 strokes from the Discipline Whip, quivered at the pain awaiting in wakefulness, but ingrained self-discipline responded to command, and he awoke once more.

Dark. So dark. Was this what life would be like now? No love, no light, no reason to awake in the morning? How could life continue without Wei Ying?

Wei Ying.

Again, a struggle to rise to his feet, Bichen once more returned to unaccustomed duty as a crutch. The pain was freshened when Lan WangJi moved. The wounds had bled then dried into his robes, and the movement tore them open once more. Molten agony travelled through his body, the heat remaining, leaving him weak and barely breathing. His mind was muddled, the one sharp focus being his need to find his Wei Ying. There must be something, somewhere. How can anyone so alive be so completely gone?

Shuffling steps took up the search where he'd been forced to leave off earlier but no matter how carefully he looked, there was nothing remaining in the cave. No ribbon. No trace of a robe, not even a shred. Despite his disability he had looked closely, not a strand of hair would have escaped notice, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. Dragging himself by sheer willpower, Lan WangJi made his halting way outside.

Step by lurching step he traced the paths through the tiny settlement his love had once created from nothing, all from his sense of justice and a need to protect others. Others who had no call on him except the one given from his own heart to those weaker than himself. Stand with justice. Live with no regrets.

Lan WangJi lashed himself with his regret. He didn't stand by his Wei Ying at Nightless City. He wasn't there when the Clans decided to rid themselves of the false threat of the YiLing Patriarch, once and for all. He hadn't protected him. Wasn't there. Lost him. His fault...

The pain in his heart had long overtaken the pain in his body. Even as his steps faltered ever shorter and less stable, his heartache grew until he fell to his knees again, unable to continue.

"WEI YING!!!"

A gut-wrenching scream was torn from his throat as Lan WangJi called to the skies, the fates, the aching long expanse of a life empty of light.

Huddled on the ground, no one would recognize the elegant HanGuang-Jun in this disheveled husk of a man. Blood, old brown and fresh red, liberally adorned once white robes, his hair unattended and his posture curled over his knees. Dirt showed the evidence of his scuffing passage, his hunched posture having dragged hems through the dirt and ash that covered every surface. No, the proud Jade would be unrecognizable to his own brother as he keened his sorrow until his voice was lost, and he was forced to silence. A silence filled with his soul calling, Wei Ying, unceasing.

As he mourned, a tiny sound. A whisper or sigh, light and almost lost in the air. Lan WangJi forced himself to his feet. What could this be? He needed to know. Needed to see. Could there be anything left in this gods-forsaken place?

The sound seemed to come from a tree, bent, broken and hollow, long since dead, off the path less used that led to the gardens tucked behind the Demon-Subdue Cave. It was set a little apart, perhaps why it still stood after the fierce battle that had been fought on these grounds. Lan WangJi hitched his way over and looked within, not knowing what to expect.

Curled within the ancient stump was A-Yuan, folded over onto himself, flushed and wet with sweat.

Lan WangJi felt a heart beat in his chest - had it been stopped before? A-Yuan. The small child loved by his Wei Ying. A-Yuan, a part of his Wei Ying's life and heart. A-Yuan. Something. He'd found his something.

With infinite care despite his bleeding, broken body, Lan WangJi took A-Yuan in his arms. The child was unconscious, with a high fever, and made no response to being held. Lan WangJi looked at the helpless child, then around the battle-blighted landscape. His heart knew he'd find nothing else. It was gone. All gone. All the work, the hopes, the dreams of living in peace were destroyed. The dreams of living...

A-Yuan coughed and was still once more.

Lan WangJi knew he needed to see a Healer, and soon. The child was burning up and felt as hot as the liquid fire crawling over Lan WangJi's own skin. Yes, he would take this child home. This remnant of his Wei Ying would see a Healer and he would make sure he would live. He would make sure he would survive and lead a life denied to his love. This little one, this fragile boy, was something he could take forward, a piece of his Wei Ying to keep with him.

With a final look at the devastation wrought by the Clans, his own prominent among them, Lan WangJi held fast the tiny body and mounting his sword once more, he left Burial Mounds for the final time. In his arms he bore his reason for living carefully home.