He attacks the library with new vigour, and hope burning like an oil fire in his chest. He drags out every tome even tangentially related to love curses, trying to find any nuance, and loophole that has hidden from him the answer. He refuses to return to the Jingshi until he is forced, skipping all meals until he finds some semblance of an answer.
Lan Zhan visits him, doing his work close enough to talk, but they don’t. Wei Ying doesn’t mean to ignore him, and he isn’t, not really. He shoots conspiratorial glances when a neighbouring student of researcher mutters rudely in a very non gusu lan like manner. He even drops off any literature that Lan Zhan would find interesting, or that’s relevant to whatever paperwork he’s doing.
But, he doesn’t clamour for his attention. He doesn’t start any discussion, or shoot over a paper man, or misbehave until his husband shoots him a heated glare. It’s the opposite of when he was a guest disciple, copying the rules, and finding any excuse or avenue to not copy them. Poor Lan Zhan must have suffered so dearly during that time.
He hadn’t found anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he’d found a lot, but nothing relevant that would explain why he hadn’t been able to break the curse. He sighed, and pushed another scroll away, refusing to react to the disapproving glares the majority of the library were shooting at him. If people wanted the scrolls to remain immaculate and perfect, they shouldn’t put them in a public library.
He rubbed at his eyes, the pain behind them building with every passing hour. He wasn’t sure if this was Mo Xuanyu’s weak stamina or his own lack of focus. He had never been so engrossed in any sort of research for so long, preferring to just force ideas together before his own inventive mind broke through the boundaries of what was possible.
A part of him was aware that working through successive nights, sneaking research materials to study in the Jingshi past curfew wasn’t technically healthy, but he couldn’t stop, not even for a second.
Stopping would be like he was giving up. On himself, maybe.
The case studies were fascinating, or would be, if the Lan’s had an inch of romanticism. So much for Lan An’s great love story. Every heart wrenching tale was transcribed in painfully horrific clinical reports, without even a hint of emotive language to even try and communicate the fates of the poor heartbroken souls.
Just as Wei Ying was about to shut another scroll, a clattering at the entrance of the library drew his attention. He smirked as he saw a flustered Jingyi, muttering out apologies to the nearest visitors as he frantically corrected the ridiculous ornamental statue he had nudged over. He gestured for Jingyi to sit with him, and enjoyed the look of relief on his face as he caught sight of his all time favourite teacher.
(He might be giving himself too much credit there)
“Thanks Wei Qianbei! We haven’t seen you in ages, what are you studying? Nobody’s seen you, not even in classes.”
Jingyi’s voice had adopted a hurt tone, and Wei Ying felt an affected pang in his heart. Jingyi, in particular was somewhat like him, too active and enthused to mesh well with the well regulated classroom standards of the classroom setting, being told off for fidgeting, speaking, even existing.
The kid struggled, and Wei Ying tried to make sure any classes he lead or even supervised were more comfortable for him. It could be difficult, not fitting in the sect you call your home, to feel unrequited love towards a whole family that couldn’t love you back.
YOU ARE READING
The Curse Love
خيال (فانتازيا)When the love curse hits Wei Wuxian, he isn't worried. He thinks it is a minor inconvenience, but quickly alleviated. Afterall the curse is solved purely on physical contact, so as soon as he touches his husband he'll be fine. It's honestly somewhat...
