Back Again

Wangxian

“Wei Ying, is it you?“

Lan Zhan had asked himself this question hundreds of times before. Each time with the same glimmer of hope that he would finally get back the person he had loved for so long. See the careless smile that brightened even the dullest of days. Feel the touch that he had secretly cherished. Hear the silvery voice calling out his name. Even though, the last time he had heard that voice, it was to say, 'Get lost!'. Even though, the last time he had looked into those eyes, they were standing at the opposite sides of a battle. That he had chosen that filled him with regret every moment since.
But, none of it mattered, because every single time, his hopes were crushed. 

Now, he sat in the lotus pose at the river's edge at the foothills of Dafan, trying to meditate. He had sent the younger disciples from his Sect up to the Goddess' Temple to investigate regarding the soul-eating monsters,but  he couldn't help but wish he had accompanied them. But SiZhui and the others needed the experience. However, his mind was refusing to cooperate. It kept reaching back to the happenings at the Mo Manor.

When he had looked at the dismembered arm at back at that place, it seemed to be gleaming with hatred and vengeance. A picture had immediately come to his mind - pieces of Yin Tiger Amulet in Wei WuXian’s hands, gleaming with the same vengeance, as he brought them together, for all hell to break loose. Stifling the memories, he had moved on to do his job and contained the arm in a Qiankun pouch to take it back to The Cloud Recesses.

That feeling kept coming back to him, kindling his hopes brighter than ever. There was definitely something strange about the events that had happened. However, inexplicably, instead of feeling a sense of foreboding, he was anticipating what would unravel.

Reeling in his mind, he tried again, in vain, to calm himself and achieve some semblance of peace.

After some time though, he gave up his futile efforts and started to move towards the top of the Dafan mountain, his zither hanging from his bank. He could at least let the others' talks drown out his own thoughts. It is getting late, he reasoned.

As he reached about midway up the path to the Temple, harsh sounds pierced the air around him. The shrill timbre of it vaguely resembled the sound of a flute. But that didn't stop his mind from conjuring the memories of a different melody played on the flute.

This was very commonplace for him. He was accustomed to the flashbacks that seemed to come to him at the drop of a hat. Though his heart trembled every time he was engulfed in them, his face showed no signs of what he was feeling inside. Now, he was in the middle of a forest and there was not a single person around him and yet his face only appeared to be a stoical mask.

Even as he was trying to stop the rush of those memories, he heard the notes change into a different melody. In spite of the discordant chords, he could make out the tranquility in it. A melody he could clearly hear himself humming to Wei WuXian as they lay tired and broken in the XuanWu cave. After Wei Ying’s death, it had remained with him as a bittersweet memory. He couldn't bring himself to play it in front of any other person. That melody belonged to Wei Ying and Wei Ying alone.

As the grating yet strangely peaceful notes fell on his ears, his feet were taking him towards the sound of their own accord. Continuing to listen, he broke into a run. He darted between the trees, paying no heed whatever obstructed his path. He slowed his steps as he reached the edge of a clearing.

There was Wen Ning, notoriously called the Ghost General looking utterly dejected and walking towards the melody with slow steps. But he paid no attention to him. All he saw was a person with his back to him wearing black robes and his hair tied up in a ponytail held together by a bright red ribbon. A flute that seemed to be roughly carved from a bamboo shoot was in his hands.