WangXian/YiZhan Oneshots And Short Stories ✔

Come Back Home (Extra)

Clean. Everything was too clean.

The walls of the assembly hall were too clean. The new robes he was wearing, of black and red, were too clean. The floor was too clean.

And it was too quiet.

Everyone spoke in quiet tones. Some didn't speak at all. A rare few clashed cups and cheered but most were solemn. The soft whispers when spoken sent a shiver down his spine like a ghost was mocking him.

Wei Ying looked around his once home and tried to imagine what life was like five or six years ago. There were no worries, he and Cheng pulled pranks, the scent of YanLi's soup wafted over the court, and the town was bustling with life. 

But now they sat in the rebuilt Lotus Pier. Honestly it was exactly the same, the walls and blinds and statues, but the memories were gone, washed away with the blood of war. Wei Ying didn't feel like this was his home and it scared him: this was his home for as long as he could remember. Deep down, part of him longed to return to the Burial Mounds, where he lived off scraps and divulged himself in the Demonic Arts, giving him something to do, something to fight for. Yet now the war was over, and Wei Ying couldn't recall who he was before it.

"Not hungry?"

Wei Ying was snapped out of his trance by a pointed look at his still full plate, not a piece of food touched. He looked down at his plate and the smell of fresh cooking made him feel nauseous and dizzy. He kept his composure- one hand clenched in a fist under the table- and looked at Jiang Cheng.

"No."

"Oh... do you want something else then?" he asked, taken aback by the blunt reply. Well, it wasn't so blunt in the sense that it was more emotionless, tired, resigned.

"No, thankyou." Wei Ying once more returned to his distant gaze, looking at his surroundings with a light frown, one that would not have suited him a few months ago but now seemed to be the only expression he was capable of.

At the table next, Nie Mingjue was animatedly telling stories of his victories in battle, swinging his sword to and fro. When he smashed his cup on the table, Wei Ying jumped and turned startlingly pale, his breath hitching for a moment. He bowed his head and began muttering to himself; Wangji caught words such as 'fine' and 'alive'. He reached his hand out under the table and grabbed Wei Ying's, slowly easing the clenched fist open. Wei Ying took a few deep breaths before he was calm, once more returning to his thoughts.

There was an uneasy atmosphere at the table as they ate. Jiang Cheng gave an uncertain glance at Lan Xichen who in turn looked inquiring at his brother who had his usual stoic expression. They all glanced at Wei Wuxian several times- even stared at some points- yet the male in question never noticed, his mind too far away to call back.

At last the meal ended and the cultivators stood up for their dishes to be taken away. Many said their goodbyes, thanking each other for their sacrifice and praying for their fallen comrades before they returned to their own sects to begin the long road to recovery. They vowed never to have a war like this again, yet who were they to say the human condition could be improved by a few lost lives.

"We should be on our way also. But, we will be staying at an inn for the night before the long journey." Xichen stated as they walked with the rest of the cultivators to bid them farewell.

"You are more than welcome to rest here for the night. It will be much safer and more comfortable." Cheng replied.

"If it is not a burden then we will accept." Xichen agreed, Wangji nodding.

"Then I will get someone to show you your rooms. Oh, Wei Wu-"

Jiang Cheng turned to speak to his brother only to find he was not there. Empty space remained where he had once occupied. Cheng frowned.