Moonlit Hearts

Chapter 31: Long due Conversations

Wangji woke slowly, the soft light of dawn slipping through the curtains. For a fleeting moment, the lingering warmth beside him offered comfort. But as wakefulness fully took hold, an ache settled deep in his chest—Wei Ying was gone.

His breath caught. The place where Wei Ying had lain only hours ago was empty, the blankets folded back neatly, as if he had never been there at all. A cold wave of dread crashed over him. Twice before, Wei Ying had disappeared into the night, leaving behind nothing but silence and pain.

Not again.

Wangji sat up abruptly, his pulse hammering. His gaze swept the room, desperate to find some trace of him, to hear his voice—anything to prove this time was different.

Then, a soft thud at the door.

Before the fear could root itself too deeply, Wei Ying appeared—a blur of movement and tousled hair, his breath uneven, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Lan Zhan! I'm here!" He rushed to Wangji's side, fingers reaching for his. "I just stepped out for a moment!"

Relief surged through Wangji, so overwhelming it left him momentarily speechless. The panic still clung to his skin, his body taut with the echoes of old wounds, but Wei Ying was here. Real. Solid. His fingers, warm and steady, curled around Wangji's own.

Seeing the unspoken fear in Wangji's eyes, Wei Ying softened. His voice dropped to a whisper, tender and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore. I promise."

Wangji tightened his grip, his voice rough when it finally came. "You weren't here. I thought—"

"I'm sorry." Wei Ying's regret was immediate, raw. "I should have left a note. I just—needed air. But I'm here now, and I'm not leaving."

Wangji exhaled shakily, then pulled Wei Ying into his arms. The familiar scent of lotus filled his senses, grounding him. Wei Ying held him just as tightly, as if he understood the silent fears woven between them.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until Wei Ying gently eased Wangji back onto the bed. His hands were firm but gentle.

"You need rest," he murmured, concern threading his voice. "Your wounds haven't fully healed."

Wangji wanted to argue, but exhaustion was already pressing in. His body, aching and worn, betrayed him.

Wei Ying stayed beside him, eyes shadowed with worry. "I'll be right here. Just sleep, Lan Zhan."

And for a time, Wangji did.

But then—voices. Low, urgent, weighted with emotion woke him up.

He stirred, awareness creeping in. The bed was colder than before—Wei Ying was gone again.

Blinking the haze of sleep from his eyes, Wangji listened. From the next room, voices carried through the quiet—Wei Ying and Sizhui. Their words were indistinct, but the sharp edges of the conversation were impossible to miss.

A frown ghosted across Wangji's lips. Slowly, he pushed himself up, ignoring the lingering fatigue.

The night had turned still, but the tension in the air was anything but.

Wei Ying and Sizhui were arguing. And whatever it was about—it mattered.

Sizhui's voice, raw with anguish, cut through the silence like a blade, and Wangji's heart clenched at the pain woven into his son's words.

"You left us, Wei Ying! You left my father twice! Do you have any idea what that did to him?"

Wangji's breath hitched, pain striking through him like lightning. He tried to speak, to call out, but his voice barely rose above a whisper. "S-stop... please..."