Eyes watched slowly floating up lantern, dedicated only one. Years go, and the name that hoarsely fell from the lips, still echoes bitterness and longing in the heart. Days merged into one gray mass, identical to horror, and himself in them was no more than floating on the river leaf, fallen from the tree. They say time heals, but in reality, all it does is help you live with the pain, helping it to seep into your skin and become one with you. It's no longer something foreign, but a part of you. It's unseparable, as natural as breathing. Over the past twelve years, Lan Wangji has become so intertwined with it that it's impossible to separate them.
The fingers, illuminated by the golden light of the flashlight, were covered with calluses from playing the guqin. Every evening, the same melody was played, but it was never answered. The room was filled with bottles of wine, one of which had not even been half-emptied. The scars had long stopped hurting, and they were only a reminder of the past, hidden beneath the ribs and the white robes of Gusu Lan. The wind rustled the white fabric, creeping beneath the layers and caressing the skin with the coolness of the night, sending chills down his spine.
A heavy exhale escaped his chest, and his lips pursed. He still hadn't received an answer from Wei Wuxian's soul. In addition to the fact that Wangzqi was unable to bury his body or find Chenqing, he was unable to find even his soul. The longing ate away at him from the inside, causing him to pace back and forth in the room and the Order's library, searching for any clues, only to return to the instrument in a state of exhaustion, hoping that the questioning technique would provide some solace. His fingers bled, leaving traces on the strings and the wooden surface, imbuing the guqin with an endless longing for the past.
As his thoughts consume him, he fails to notice the approaching footsteps until a hand rests on his shoulder, and he recognizes his brother's touch. Lan Zhan's expression is filled with empathy, as Xichen doesn't need to ask any questions. He already knows everything. They both mourn the loss of their loved ones, learning to cope with their pain and serving as each other's anchors of stability.
β Let's go home, β Huan says softly, with his usual half-smile. After taking one last look at the night sky, where lanterns spread out like stars, the two Jades silently walk down the slope.
(I use translator, sorry for the wrongs)
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