[ open post: Lan Wangji and guests ]

[lightbearinglord]

In the wake of his disorienting and unpleasant stint in Gu Xiang's body, Lan Wangji has done his utmost to resume and enjoy all of his usual pursuits. He has, he believes, thoroughly made up for his lapse in his promise to Wei Ying. He has wielded kitchen knives, his ink brush, and Bichen with precision and enthusiasm. He has sunk into long, restorative shichen of meditation. He has, at Claudius' behest, thoroughly perused Emily Post's instructions regarding how to conduct oneself as the best man at a wedding.

There is the matter of his qin, too. The discovery of the spirit in Gideon's sword struck Lan Wangji with greater surprise than he might have expected. Such things were once commonplace for him; he hardly went two weeks, before he came to this place, without finding himself called to some night-hunt. He does not like to believe that he could become complacent, and he has always practiced diligently, but still.

The tableau is a familiar one: a certain parlor near the entryway of the mansion, one that often houses this particular cultivator along with his spiritual instrument. Wangji is balanced on a table at the center of the room, polished black wood gleaming and strings freshly tuned, and Lan Wangji sits cross-legged before it. He is not actually playing it at this precise moment, however, because he currently has guests. A small white rabbit sits next to the qin, munching his way through a piece of lettuce. An equally small brown rabbit is perched in the crook of Lan Wangji's elbow, eyeing his brother with some envy. Ostensibly, the rabbits are in trouble, because they have recently laid waste to Lan Wangji's copy of Emma. It is impossible to tell, because Lan Wangji is petting Danding's head with exactly as much solemn focus as always.

Comments

[onthewillowsthere]

"Did you know him? Or was it before your time?"

[lightbearinglord]

"He lived several hundred years before my time. He left his temple and resumed a worldly life to pursue music. When he met his fated cultivation partner, he founded the Gusu Lan clan." The faintest hint of a smile pulls at Lan Wangji's mouth. Long ago, Wei Ying and his friends teased him about this story, asking how such a romantic ancestor could produce such an unromantic descendant.

[onthewillowsthere]

"His cultivation partner?"

[lightbearinglord]

"As Wei Ying is to me." Another short pause. Lan Wangji wants to describe this accurately. Once, he was terrified to love in the way that he does. He saw what it did to his father, the way the elders spoke of his parents. It means something to him to think of his ancestor in this way now. "We are married; we share life and death. We walk the same path and seek the same truths. Wherever our path leads, we will find that end together."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Is cultivation love?"

[lightbearinglord]

"No." He has known too many cruel and powerful cultivators to mistake the two. "Most cultivation is undertaken in solitude."

[onthewillowsthere]

"What is cultivation?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Cultivation is the practice of gathering and refining qi." For Galahad, and because he is caught in the rhythm of their exchange, Lan Wangji doesn't succumb to any of his occasional irritation at having to explain this yet again. "Meditation and discipline strengthen one's spiritual power."

[onthewillowsthere]

"If qi is like breath, how can it be refined?"

[lightbearinglord]

"With patience and practice, it is possible to expand the capacity of one's lungs, to breathe more deeply and for longer. In the same way, through meditation, it is possible to expand the capacity of one's meridians, and ultimately to form a golden core that acts as a permanent store of spiritual power."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Is spiritual power what lets you fly on your sword?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Yes. Bichen has its own qi, and it answers to me."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Can a person like me learn cultivation?" It's not something he wants to learn: he's just trying to be clear on what kind of person can do so.

[lightbearinglord]

Regardless, Lan Wangji takes the question at face value and considers Galahad for a moment, assessing him. He is focused, his qi is uncommonly powerful for someone who is not a cultivator, and he takes his endeavors seriously. "It would not be easy to begin at your age, but it might be possible."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Then it's something that requires a long time studying?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn. I began as a child." The most powerful cultivator he knows of who began past childhood is Wen Zhuliu, who is long dead now.

[onthewillowsthere]

"The ritual that brought Wei Wuxian back to life -- was that cultivation?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji is silent for a much longer moment this time. He had not forgotten letting this information slip to Galahad under that truth curse, but it feels like something that happened much longer ago than it truly did. He looks down, at the rabbits, and takes in a breath. "That ritual is forbidden. It should never have been performed."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Was it cultivation?"

[lightbearinglord]

"It was not the cultivation I described to you. It destroys the soul of the summoner."

[onthewillowsthere]

"He destroyed himself so Wei Wuxian could have his body?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Yes." His face remains mostly blank, but there's something a little grim in the set of his jaw and mouth. He has turned this over in his mind a hundred times, possibly a thousand, and never found his way out of a selfish and cruel gratitude for Mo Xuanyu's sacrifice. His life was worth something, too, and should not have been thrown away -- but it was, and the weakening, shocking joy of hearing that song, inexpertly piped through crudely-cut bamboo, will never leave Lan Wangji.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad considers. "That body he has isn't the one he was born with."

[lightbearinglord]

"His first was destroyed," Lan Wangji says, a confirmation.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Is it hard? Or does it not matter, because it's him?"