this changes everything. ⟲ wangxian

3. Sickening News

So open your eyes and see

§

the way the horizons meet...

"I'm heading that way," Wei Ying points his flute past Wangji's face—aiming somewhere in the future that Wangji can't turn and look at, no matter how hard he tries.

Wangji coughs into his sleeve. He can't help it anymore. The truth it, he's been trying to stifle the flaring itch in his throat for a long time now. He did everything that could have ever possibly been done—he received all kinds of medication, from a variety of healers; he listened to the sound strumming of instruments to medically-inclined melodies; he read and reread books on all kinds of strange symptoms for critical health conditions involving sore throats... he really did everything he could think of. Which is everything, full stop.

So why isn't it working? Why does he still have an itchy throat, which feels more like sandpaper now than his own skin? Worst of all, why is he seeing other kinds of symptoms? Fever, headache... no matter what song he plays to calm his temperament—or orders someone to play for him—the effects are only temporary; brief enough that all symptoms reappear within a few hours' sleep.

Wangji is starting to have a very bad feeling.

Something is definitely wrong.

"Your Excellency... my lord... my lord?"

Wangji turns sharply at the calling, swallowing a lull in his throat. He waves his concentrating worries momentarily out of mind, turning to receive a single scroll tied with a red ribbon.

"Who sent it?" He asks the servant. But he has to force himself to stay focused.

"The Gu Clan Leader, Your Excellency."

Ah.

Of course.

The Gu Clan Leader, Liban, hasn't let him take a rest for more than a week about the matter of marriage, ever since they first met at the party one month ago. Wangji can't help the single purse of his lips as he stares at the tied-up scroll. He's hiding a huge urge to just chuck the notice out of sight, but he can't— at least, not with that servant standing there.

With this in mind, he turns calmly to the servant. He says solemnly, "You may leave."

The servant bows and turns to leave the bedroom—but then something happens. Something crashes over Wangji, an unbearably overwhelming wave of inconceivable feeling. A searing pain hits him straight between his eyes. He grits his teeth and wills himself to stay composed for as long as possible; but the next thing he remembers is being on the floor, trembling, the servant who hadn't left yet touching his shoulder and exclaiming panicked questions. The searing pain hits him again, now blurring intentions with the black blotches that distort his vision. He cries out in pain.

"Y-Your Excellency, I'll go get someone—I'll be right back!" The servant staggers to his feet and rushes out of the chamber. His footsteps thump-thump-thump across the floor and scatter Wangji's consciousness like an earthquake. Everything numbs. "Help! Over here, come here! His Excellency is sick! Hanguang Jun is sick... his.... please, get.... healer....."

•••

Hanguang Jun wakes up in his bed, Xichen at his side. A frown is embedded between his brother's brows, like it has already been permanently ingrained there for many, many moons.

"How could you not tell me about something so serious?" He demands, staring wide-eyed at the leader of all clan leaders. Xichen's irises fill with worry and disbelief; but his voice struggles to stay calm. "Wangji... do you have any idea what could have happened?"