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As far as the government was concerned, this prison didn’t exist.

It was located so far north that, to the rest of the world, it didn’t exist either. In fact, only a handful of people knew that it was a horrifying reality instead of a sordid myth. But there it stood, parting the gloom as a massive, black shadow, covered in ice and snow for most of the year. Even if it wasn’t located near one of the poles, it would exude cold and darkness with its gothic architecture and dark stone walls. The prison was so remote that it was difficult to go into town for supplies to run it, so it had its own factory, hospital and farm. There were barracks for the staff just as there were for the prisoners, but no matter which side of the bars a person was on, a form of suffering would always find them.

Nameless. Alone. The prison was thus called Wu Ming, and when one became part of the prison, they were cut off from the rest of society forever, disappearing within its black maw.

Needless to say, when Lan WangJi became a soldier, being stationed in a place like this was not what he had had in mind.

It had been many years since his days as a private, and truthfully, though his family was full of soldiers, he knew they wouldn’t have thought any less of him if he decided to pursue a different career. But he had never been able to shake off that childhood fancy of wanting to serve his country, especially since he was always in awe of his father and his uncle and how decorated they were. Then his brother had gone and become a combat medic and well…it would be all too easy for Lan WangJi to follow behind them. His family name had served him well over the years, though he liked to think he succeeded because he was so dedicated and disciplined, as well as ruthless when he needed to be. For this reason, by the time he was in his thirties, he was a Lieutenant, and oh did it make many of his fellow soldiers who were his age and still ranked lower than him jealous.

What did they have to be jealous of though? They were all stationed where Lan WangJi wanted to be, out in the sun, fighting on the front lines. All his hard work had gotten him was assigned to the middle of nowhere just in time for winter to hit where they would be buried under dozens of feet of snow and the sun would disappear for almost six months. Truly he had drawn the longer of the two straws.

He had been here a couple of weeks by now, and in that time, he’d learned that as frightening as the prison looked on the outside, it sadly wasn’t any more cheerful on the inside. Not only that, but he’d also learned, first, the chilly, oppressive air followed you from the outside all over the inside no matter where you went. Second, the schedule was just as rigid as the rules and regulations. Lan WangJi had always thought the strict upbringing he had had couldn’t be topped; even his days as a private weren’t as regimented as his day to day life with his uncle. But Wu Ming was a whole different animal. Lan WangJi didn’t mind for sure, as it was vital for prisons to have strict schedules so its inmates could finally have some structure in their lives and begin their rehabilitation. Except Wu Ming wasn’t there to rehabilitate its prisoners.

Wu Ming was a concentration camp and its goal was to torture and kill them. It reminded its prisoners of this fact every single day.

Inmates woke up at six a.m, and roll call was at six thirty. If you weren’t present at roll call, you didn’t get breakfast, but even if you didn’t, in Lan WangJi’s opinion, it wasn’t much of a loss. Food for the staff was bad, and for the prisoners it was even worse. At least Lan WangJi’s food was rudimentarily inspected. For the inmates, who were probably going to die anyway, well, food poisoning wasn’t thought of as that big a deal.

After that, it was work until noon. Most of the work was hard labor disguised as productivity. Often, they were sent into one of the vast networks of cave systems to mine for silver and coal. This in and of itself was so dangerous that it wasn’t unusual for them to lose a dozen prisoners a week either from the cold, or a cave-in because someone used dynamite where they shouldn’t and it weakened the walls, or a carbon monoxide leak, or even random explosions from encountering flammable, unstable gasses. To the staff and the guards, it was a great way to ensure that they met their unofficial death quota without ever having to lift a finger.

If they were lucky and produced enough material for the afternoon, the inmates were granted a quick lunch. Maybe, if the prison had the food to spare. Oftentimes they were forced to work straight through until the evening, and whoever survived the day was brought back inside at six to eat.

Mining wasn’t the only work that the prisoners performed. They also were responsible for the general maintenance of the prison, as well as making uniforms. Many of them wished they could say that making uniforms for the people they despised was the worst part of the whole business, or that it was somehow less dangerous than being forced to go out and mine in subzero weather. But sadly, this wasn’t the case. The guards that oversaw their work would occasionally walk up and down the aisles, pausing by each prisoner’s work station and inspect the uniform they were working on. If one fault was found, that person, as well as four other random people, were taken out back and subjected to the firing squad. Likewise, when cleaning the halls, or fixing faulty wires, if a single mistake was made, the consequences were the same.

Ironically, though the standards of cleanliness were high in any of the places the staff roamed, the same couldn’t be said of the living areas for the prisoners. Just being in one of the cell blocks for the time it took to give him a tour of the place was enough to make Lan WangJi’s nose scrunch in displeasure. It was a rancid combination of filth from sweaty, sickly bodies, toilets that often clogged and were never fixed, and death itself from those that were rotting in their cells. It wasn’t uncommon for the staff to just leave their bodies there, for fear of removing them and being attacked by the prisoners in the process. And this was a legit concern, considering the tiny, almost closet sized cells usually housed three or even four people at a time when they were built to only hold two at the most.

Lights out was at seven. Anyone caught with a light on past then, or even speaking too loudly would be shot on sight.

Lan WangJi told himself at first he was content with his new world, but even just two weeks in, he knew he was fooling himself. He didn’t expect there to be any morality among the prisoners; their enemies had no morality, so he had been told. But he was rapidly beginning to see that there was no morality among his comrades either. Wu Ming was a big iron box full of sadists, and to Lan WangJi, it didn’t matter if their prisoners were all adult men; some of the things done to them for the smallest reasons made having them shot look like gentle euthanasia. He didn’t know what those things were specifically, but he had heard murmurs among his co-workers of, “So we found a Tucker telephone in the basement,” and, “I can’t believe I managed to shove the entire towel down his throat before he choked,” as well as the haunting screams of the prisoners echoing down the halls.

Unfortunately, the torture also extended beyond that. The staff held “parties,” once a month, or twice a month, or after a great victory when they wanted to celebrate. And though Lan WangJi hadn’t witnessed one of these parties yet, he had heard rumors of how awful they could be for the prisoners, leaving him to guess as to what that could possibly mean.

Lan WangJi was not afraid to kill. He was not afraid of living nightmares. But that didn’t mean he wanted to create them with his own hands, or support those that did. There was something about this place that made him think if Wu Ming was a nightmare, then he was only just beginning to fall asleep.

For the past couple of weeks, he had been stuck outside in the mines overseeing the inmates. And the reason their boss, General Wen Ruohan had given him for doing so, had been, “It’s part of the initiation. Every new person, prisoner and prison guard, spends their first few weeks doing the most dangerous work. If you don’t freeze to death by the end of that, then we might learn your name. But don’t worry, even if you don’t make it, you don’t have to worry about an empty headstone. Everyone knows who you are, Lieutenant.” He looked Lan WangJi up and down and snorted with amusement.

“What is it, sir?” Lan WangJi asked.

“Nothing,” the General replied. “It’s just a good thing you Lans have the reputation that you do. I worry about the ones with pretty faces.”

After having survived initiation, Lan WangJi was assigned to the main building of the prison, the place where the prisoners completed most of their indoor work, near where all the offices of the soldiers were located so they could keep an eye on them and rally at a moment’s notice if they were needed. In fact, Lan WangJi was working peacefully in said office when one soldier knocked on his door. When he told them they could come in, the soldier opened the door and was regarding him with unsettled eyes.

“There’s been an incident,” he explained. “General Wen is already looking into it, but he said he wanted you there as well.”

Without a word, Lan WangJi rose from his seat and asked, “Where to?”

“The communal bathroom in cell block C.”

With a nod, he was off, and in no time, he was walking up to stand next to Wen Ruohan in said cell block, who was staring at the white, tiled wall with narrowed eyes. When Lan WangJi followed his gaze, he was shocked to see that someone had written on those stark walls with blood that had long since dried, Death to the North. Her military is full of pigs and rapists. Long live the South.

 The writing was large with each line being a new sentence and no punctuation. The General glanced over at Lan WangJi evenly, while Lan WangJi did the same. He said, “I give him points for creativity. No one else has graffitied the walls in their blood before.”

“Do we know who did it?” Lan WangJi asked.

“We’ll have an idea based on security camera footage, since we know the time it occurred. I have someone looking at it right now.”

In the time it took to get a few of the inmates started on cleaning the mess up, another soldier came by and whispered something into Wen Ruohan’s ear. He nodded a few times, before signaling to Lan WangJi, as well as a of the other soldiers stationed on guard duty.

He explained. “Looks like it was the prisoners in cells 212 and 213. But when they walked out, no one had any obvious injuries visible from the monitors, so we’ll just have to interrogate them all.”

“Interrogate them how?” Lan WangJi asked.

But Wen Ruohan didn’t answer.

As they walked down cell block C, the sounds of their boots clicking on the concrete floors, Lan WangJi chanced glances at the prisoners as they passed. True to what he had been told, they were all haggard, clearly missing out on several good meals. Their stained uniforms hung off their deprived bodies, and their eyes were vacant. The cell block was freezing; Lan WangJi could see his breath. So many of the prisoners were huddled together under threadbare blankets, or if they didn’t have those, curled up in miserable balls either on the concrete floor or on their metal bunks. Their faces were pale and their lips were blue, and a few were so motionless that Lan WangJi suspected they were dead.

However, there were a couple men who still had some life in them. They rushed the bars and slammed into them, reaching their arms out and grabbing for the passing officers, cursing at them. What was more frightening was one prisoner, wild-eyed and half mad, caught Lan WangJi’s eye and started panting. He threw in a few moans as well rolled his hips against the door. More men wolf whistled at him made kissing sounds, one even breathed, “I’d love to cum all over your pretty-”

He didn’t get to complete his thought on account of Wen Ruohan shooting him in the face as they passed. His horrified cellmates were covered in his blood and watched as he crumpled to the ground. A few of the younger soldiers wrinkled their noses in disgust, but Lan WangJi remained stone faced.

There were many places where exceptional beauty could offer someone an advantage. A prison was not one of them.

The inmates quieted down after hearing the gunshot, and within no time they had arrived at cells 212 and 213. Altogether, there were seven men between the two cells. With a nod from Wen Ruohan, Lan WangJi and the other soldiers opened the doors and pulled the surprised inmates out, ignoring their wide eyes and whispered questions of, “What’s going on?” and “What are they going to do?”

“Shut your mouths,” Wen Ruohan ordered. And then to his soldiers, “Line them up here. Let’s make them examples for the others to see.”

The men were stood all in a row, their faces white with terror even under the grime on their cheeks. Most of them kept their gazes on the floor. The General ordered, “Kneel.”

The prisoners hesitated, unsure if they heard him right. But any doubt was cleared up a moment later when he raised a hand and all of the soldiers present lifted their guns and pointed them at the men. Wen Ruohan repeated in a louder voice, “Kneel!” and the men knelt down immediately, some of them even whimpering and prostrating themselves.

The General began to circle around the men, looking very much like a shark who was zeroing in on prey. His eyes were just as black and mindlessly predatory. His soldiers kept their guns pointed at the prisoners as he said, “We found something in the bathroom that would lead me to believe someone here is rather sore about the fact that the South is losing. I can see some new faces here in this lineup, so let me explain something. You lost your right to opinions the moment you were handcuffed. You are now the property of Wu Ming, and as such you have no control over your own fates. We decide if you eat, if you sleep, and if you live or die. Chances are good most of you won’t be here by next year. But you can increase your chances of survival if you keep your head down and do as you’re told. One thing is for sure: writing about how the men in charge of your fates is full of rapists is not a good way to do that.”

 Hearing the gasps of fear that rose from the men, Lan WangJi felt the need to add, “If the person who confesses comes forward, only they will be punished. If not, five of you will be.”

Dead silence met his words, the prisoners shaking in place. A couple of them pressed their foreheads to the floor, begging for mercy. One of them was even so scared that he started crying. He hastily started wiping at his face, probably from the shame, but no matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn’t stop. One of the soldiers spat, “Pathetic. I always knew that the South military was full of cowards. Look at her pussy, boys. I hope your parents gave the cigars back after they gave birth to you because it looks like they had a daughter instead of a son.”

A few of his comrades snickered, and the man tried valiantly to stop crying, but he was struggling. When the prisoners remained silent, the General sighed, and then said, “Alright, take the five on the right.”

The soldiers started to heft the prisoners up, the crying man included, and he bit his lip as another sob threatened to escape. The man was young, and something about his face looked vulnerable and naïve that Lan WangJi was sure didn’t have anything to do with the tears. He didn’t appear to be the combative type; more like a gentle farm boy. Perhaps he was and had been brought here by accident. Only prisoners of war were supposed to be in Wu Ming, but they didn’t exactly check everyone’s professions before tossing them in a cell. Lan WangJi was fine punishing their enemies, not innocent civilians. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by another voice.

“Wait!”

The soldiers froze, staring down at the man who had spoken. He was fixing the crying man with a desperate gaze, before looking at Wen Ruohan and admitting, “It was me. I sliced my forearm with a razorblade and used the blood to write that message.”

“Oh?” The General glared down at him, regarding the man like he was a stain he had found on the floor. “Well, I appreciate your honesty. As a reward, we won’t kill you.” He pointed at two of his soldiers. “You two, restrain him.”

The two soldiers picked the man off the floor, hauling him up by his arms and separating him from the lineup. To the rest of his men, General Wen said, “Lock the rest back up. Lieutenant, come with us. You’re going to sit and observe. I can’t imagine Qiren ever educated you boys on proper interrogation techniques.”

Just as he began to follow his General, Lan WangJi paused again when he heard the crying man from before begin shouting, actually fighting against those that were leading him back to his cell. His hands were pulled behind his back, and yet he was still trying to pull them out of their grip, looking over his shoulder and trying to keep the man in his sight for as long as possible. “Don’t do this! I’m not worth it! Please…”

The man who had confessed met his eyes, digging in his heels to slow their progress and calling back, “Come on Wen Ning. If I can survive your sister during one of her rages when it’s exam week, I can survive whatever they throw at me. I’ll be back before you know it, okay? Warm up my spot on the mattress for”-

“Shut up,” one of the soldiers holding the man hissed. “The world doesn’t need to know about what kind of disgusting things you and your boyfriend get up to.”

“Hmph. It’s freezing down here, what do you expect us to do? Wouldn’t kill you to show some decency and turn up the thermostat for us once in a while.”

The soldier slapped him across the face, so hard that the man staggered in his grip. Wen Ruohan smirked in approval, and said, “Save the rest of your energy. You’ll be glad you did when you see what we’re going to do to him.”

With that, he led them all to one of the interrogation rooms, closing the door behind them with an ominous click.

Lan WangJi had no idea what he had been expecting, considering the horrible noises he heard come out of these rooms. Maybe chains hanging on the walls or blood spattered on the floors. But a pristinely clean room full of medical equipment was not it. Did Wen Ruohan have the right place? This seemed more like a hospital room, complete with a bed against the wall and an I.V pole, as well as an operating table. The machines glinted coldly in the bright light. Lan WangJi remained in a corner, as still as stone, unwilling to come in any further.

It felt like there was something heavy and oppressive in the air, as if he could feel the resentful energy of all the men who had come here before, feel their pain, and that was when he knew that yes, Wen Ruohan did in fact have the right place, and he had used this innocent looking hospital room for the opposite of its intended purpose many times.

The General patted the operating table and said, “Put him here. Keep your grip on his wrists.”

The soldiers did as they were asked, marching the man over to the bed. To Lan WangJi’s surprise, the man didn’t resist, allowing himself to be led and then placed on the bed. The soldiers did as they were told, standing on each side of him and keeping a firm grip on each wrist. Wen Ruohan grabbed one of the machines sitting in the corner and wheeled it closer to the bed, flipping on some switches and watching as it whirred to life. He then grabbed the flexible nozzle of one of the machines, adjusting it and asking, “Do you know what this is?”

No one in the room answered, all of them staring at him with varying degrees of interest and fear. Wen Ruohan continued, “This is a laser. It’s about as wide as the stroke of a pen, and it can get up to two hundred degrees. I’ve heard that being touched with it feels like being stabbed by a knife coated in acid.”

The room was so quiet that Lan WangJi heard the man on the table swallow, saw his Adam’s apple bob. He was resolutely not meeting anyone’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at his feet. Wen Ruohan tilted the point of the laser at him, levelling it at his chest. “I like to mark the ones who cause trouble here so that I know who to keep an eye on in the future. I also like to think that if one carries a physical reminder of what they did wrong, like a brand, they’re less likely to forget the lesson they learned.” He nodded towards his soldiers. “Take off his shirt.”

Again, the man didn’t resist, allowing the soldiers to unbutton his uniform shirt and pull it aside, exposing his vulnerable, bare flesh. He looked into the barrel of the laser, seeing the red light grow brighter as it became hotter. Lan WangJi could see the red light reflected in his eyes.

He knew torture occurred in prison camps. He wasn’t stupid or naïve. But the whole time he and his brother grew up, his uncle had always told them that torture was a pointless venture. The information garnered from it was never credible, and the countries who advocated it looked like “mindless, medieval barbarians.” He had always advocated showing their enemies mercy, to not go out of their way to inflict harm. Sometimes, in some small way, the enemy might even return that kindness. Perhaps it was those teachings that made Lan WangJi finally peel himself away from his corner, reach out a hand and go, “Wait. Surely there’s another way we can teach him this lesson. Maybe I could…”

He trailed off when he registered the looks he was getting from his comrades. The soldiers were rolling their eyes, and Wen Ruohan was fixing him with the same patient, indulgent expression one might a child who just didn’t understand the simplest of concepts.

“Lieutenant,” he explained. “We won’t win any victories by taking half-measures. And this will indeed be a small victory for the North. He needs to be used as an example. First lesson: take something away from them they can never get back, and they’ll remember you forever.”

“But”-

Surprisingly, the man interrupted them by spitting, “Go ahead, do your worst. There’s nothing you can take away from me that I haven’t already lost.”

Wen Ruohan replied evenly, “I beg to differ.”

He pulled the trigger on the laser, and a deafening scream filled the room.

To Lan WangJi’s surprise, that wasn’t the end of the man’s punishment. After Wen Ruohan was finished etching the North’s sect brand into his chest, he barely gave him a minute to breathe before he ordered, “Alright Lieutenant, I think we’ll leave the rest of up to you. Our friend here would probably like something to cool his burnt skin, so why don’t you take him outside to dig out the snowmobiles? We haven’t had a chance to get to them since the blizzard.”

Lan WangJi absently slipped on his gloves while he looked at the man on the table. He skin was glistening with sweat, and he was shaking like a leaf. His face was covered in a mess of tears, snot and saliva. There was also a dark stain in the front of his trousers, as well as a puddle underneath him on the bed, the result of the pain becoming so severe that he had lost control of his bladder. The whole room stank of burnt flesh, urine and sweat; it didn’t smell like a victory to him.

The soldiers stood back so that he could get off the bed. The man sat up as quickly as he was able, squeezing his eyes shut against the vertigo that assaulted him. He wavered, the room tilting, but still forced himself to stand.

His legs immediately gave out, folding underneath him and pitching him towards the hard floor. Lan WangJi winced in sympathy when he heard skin and bone smack against it. The other soldiers laughed.

“Where’s all your bravery now?” one asked mockingly.

“He was all talk,” said the other. “Couldn’t even get through it without pissing his pants. Your mother must be proud of the little bitch that she raised.”

The man ignored them, once again struggling to his feet. One more time he fell, but he caught himself on his hands and knees, and then finally managed to shakily get to his feet. Lan WangJi watched him, watched how he kept his head low and didn’t fight as Lan WangJi came up behind him and took both of his wrists, holding them behind his back. He didn’t even look at Lan WangJi.

The Lieutenant found himself asking, “Does anyone have a spare coat?”

“He’s being punished, remember?” one of the soldiers replied.

Of course. So no coat.

Without another word, Lan WangJi walked him out of the room, guiding him down the winding halls. He was already wearing his coat, almost always having to keep it on when he wasn’t in the officer’s quarters, so all he did when they stepped outside was pull up his hood. They were immediately buffeted by winds so strong that it took them by surprise, and Lan WangJi had to fight to shut the door. They slogged through knee-deep snow towards where the shovels were kept in a shed close to the main building, and then moved over to the trapped snowmobiles. Lan WangJi let go of the man and handed him the shovel.

For a moment, the man stared at him like he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He was shivering violently, arms coming up to hug himself and looking very reluctant to let go. However, he also looked too tired to put up much of a struggle. So, he took the shovel without a word and started digging.

Lan WangJi watched as the man’s shivering would subside and then pick back up again. Watched him drop the shovel several times, fingers obviously numb. Lan WangJi was fighting shivers even with his five layers on; he could only imagine how the prisoner had to feel.

There were so many people in this place that it was hard to keep track of them all. And yet Lan WangJi knew for a fact he had never seen this man before. He had a recognizable face with eyes like a doe’s and a certain innocence to him. Very much like the crying man, but there was less inherent fear, more determination, an inner flame burning that kept him going even though it was clear his body wanted to give up. He kept pausing in his work, trying to resist curling in on himself. At first, he tried to keep moving in an effort to warm up, but even when he saw that was going to be impossible, he still kept working. Lan WangJi saw his hands turning bright red and then purple as the cold set in, saw a haziness settle over his expression and his movements grow clumsier.

When he stumbled and caught himself, Lan WangJi knew he could no longer remain silent. By then, to add to this man’s bad luck, it had started to snow again, the flakes small but numerous. They settled in the man’s dark, long hair, on his shoulders, and on his face, but they didn’t melt. Still, he kept working, valiantly ignoring the hypothermia settling in.

“I know you didn’t really do it, so why did you say you did?” Lan WangJi asked, almost out of the blue.

The man ignored him, keeping up the steady rhythm of gathering snow and tossing it aside, his thin arms shaking and his back heaving. Lan WangJi had to imagine his soaking pants and shirt only helped the wind to blow through him even faster, and he could have sworn he saw the beginning of ice crystals forming on the man’s trousers.

Thinking maybe the man hadn’t heard him, he tried again. “You said you sliced your forearm with a razor blade. I saw your arms, and they didn’t have any cuts on them. Why did you lie?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” the man snapped, but the sharpness of the reply was dulled by the slurring of his words.

Once more, he dropped the shovel, and Lan WangJi heard him curse under his breath, though it was filled with less anger and more frustration, bordering on a cry. He bent down to retrieve it, shaking his head and digging the heel of his palm into one of his eyes, but kept missing the shovel. From what Lan WangJi could see of his expression, he looked confused, frightened even. The Lieutenant sighed and walked over to him, the crunching of his footsteps in the snow loud even through the wind.

It was only when he bent down to retrieve the shovel that the man noticed he was there at all, and when Lan WangJi reached his hand out, he flinched away so violently that he fell over, his unsteady legs unable to hold him up.

“I…was just getting the shovel,” Lan WangJi explained. “You can go back inside.”

The man stared at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Lan WangJi knelt down so that he didn’t tower over him and took the shovel to show that he meant what was he was saying. But the man still didn’t move, and he didn’t know if that was because he was incapable of doing so or he was too afraid to. Either way, Lan WangJi added, “I have nothing else to do for the day. Besides, the snow is beginning to pick up. There would be no point.”

Still the man didn’t move. Was he waiting for him to say he was just kidding? But Lan WangJi wouldn’t have said those words if he didn’t mean them. Eventually, slowly, as if he was keeping an eye on a snake, the man rose to his feet, refusing to break eye contact the entire time. They stared at each other for a moment, the man shivering pathetically, teeth visibly chattering, and he looked like his legs were going to give out again at any moment. Yet even though he was so clearly miserable and snow continued to collect on his frigid body, even settling on his long eyelashes, he held Lan WangJi’s gaze.

“Do you need help getting inside?” Lan WangJi asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed further. “Aren’t you worried I’ll try and run away?”

“We’re surrounded by hundreds of miles of frozen wasteland and icy seas. Where are you going to run to?”

The man’s upper lip curled back and without a word, he stormed off towards the door. Lan WangJi remained where he was, watching him go, the wind freezing his cheeks and causing the man’s long ponytail to whip back and forth. He stumbled, and even went the wrong way for a moment, but he caught himself.

Just before he was about the wrench open the door, Lan WangJi called out, “Hold on!”

The man froze, his hand on the door handle. He didn’t look back at Lan WangJi.

“What’s your name?”

The man opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

000

Lan WangJi fully expected that man to melt back into the sea of prisoners, never to be singled out by him again. After all, several thousand called this place home, so it was easy for the faces to blend together.

However, as the weeks ticked by, he found that that wasn’t the case at all. There wasn’t an increase in the number of incidents, but whenever there seemed to be trouble in cell block C, that same man would pop up. A guard found a hole being dug inside of cell 213 during one of his rounds, and that man almost immediately admitted to doing it when he saw the crying man about to be dragged away. Someone tried to build a pipe bomb out of playing cards and the leg of one of their beds, and the man said he was the one who not only gave them the idea, but leant them the playing cards as well when the crying man was accused of doing so. There was even a fight down in the cafeteria one time that the man hadn’t been involved with at first, but the moment the crying man got pulled into the fray, the man was in there tearing people off him and telling the guards once they broke it up that he was one who instigated the fight in the first place.

The common theme seemed to be the crying man; only if he was involved would the man take the fall. He would then be hauled off for punishment, and so far, Lan WangJi had seen him walk out of the interrogation rooms with a swollen face, missing fingernails and huge bloodstains on his prison uniform. On the night of the fight in the cafeteria, Lan WangJi had been startled in the middle of the night by awful screams. When he asked about it the next day, one of the guards told him they had just made a few long-distance calls on the Tucker telephone.

Lan WangJi felt sick. He thought those things had been out of use for decades and couldn’t believe that Wu Ming had one. When using the device, the person would have a wire from an old crank phone wrapped around their toe, and another wire wrapped around their genitals. Long distance calls were a euphemism for an extra powerful shock given using the device. Here he had been, warm in his bed, and that poor man had been subjected to such treatment.

But the thing was, Lan WangJi had looked at the security footage. He had witnessed the fight in the cafeteria. At no point did the evidence in those tapes back up the man’s story about being responsible for each occurrence. He never actually saw him breaking any rules either. He always kept his head down and stayed quiet. So why…?

Lan WangJi’s curiosity was beginning to eat away at him to the point where he started doing research in the prison’s archives. The records on the prisoners were shoddy at best since most of them died so fast that no one saw a point of keeping track of who was contained within its walls. But he did know that the prison liked to make note of which individuals had the North’s brand seared into their skin so they knew who to watch out for.

He searched through the thick binder for several minutes, flipping through the pages until he landed on who was being kept in cell block C, and then finally cell 213. And he was extremely fortunate that there was only person in that cell who carried the brand. Next to a star drawn in red ink was the name Wei WuXian.

Huh. For some reason, Lan WangJi expected the two men to share the same surname. If they were related then that would explain why Wei WuXian was so bent on protecting him. It was already curious enough that his General and Wen Ning shared the same surname and yet Wen Ning was behind bars, but he had gotten his reason from Wen Ruohan as to why that was the case.

“He’s most likely part of a distantly related faction of my family,” he had said when Lan WangJi asked him the day before. “Some of them broke ties with us and hid away in the countryside in the South. When the war started, they fought for their side.”

Digging deeper into the binder, Lan WangJi was able to find out that the two of them were arrested in Qishan. Ah, yes. Lan WangJi remembered that battle, though he hadn’t been there himself. It was a mostly rural city that suffered high casualties, both in soldiers and civilians, and the North took just about anyone left alive prisoner.

Lan WangJi frowned. Did that mean the two of them were from the same city? An errant strand of hair came loose from the bun at the base of his neck and fell in front of his face. He blew it out of the way in frustration. But why was he frustrated? Because those answers weren’t enough to satisfy his curiosity? What the hell else was there to know?

The minute he asked himself that question, a million more popped up. What was the depth of Wei WuXian and Wen Ning’s connection? Were they friends? Lovers? If they were just friends, why was Wei WuXian so willing to get himself hurt to protect him? Were they former military? Just civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time?

What were they like before coming to Wu Ming?

Lan WangJi leaned backwards in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had other stuff to be doing. There was a stack of paperwork on his desk a mile high. There were new prisoners to process and get in the system. So, he put the binder away and left the room to do just that.

Only to get to his office and immediately enter Wei WuXian’s name into Google.

To his surprise, he did actually get some results. At the top of the list was a Facebook page, and right under that was a personal site that, based on the description, advertised art. Clicking on Facebook first, he was greeted with a surprisingly public page, almost nothing hidden. Lan WangJi chanced a look out his office window that led into the hallway. No one was coming. Not that being caught looking at Facebook would be the worst offense, as more than one officer had been walked in on watching porn. That was something he could safely say had never happened to him.

Lan WangJi scrolled down his timeline and through his pictures, quickly gathering several bits of information. It looked like they were the same age. Wei WuXian had been adopted. He had siblings and a young nephew that he himself had named. He had majored in drawing and illustration in college. He was the type to take pictures of his food. He had a good sense of humor judging from some of his posts, like one that said, “We’re here to suck asshole and work out, and I’ve had my fill of asshole thanks to Jiang Cheng’s quiche.”

This was followed by a reply from Jiang Cheng that stated, “Wei WuXian I’ve seen you put spaghetti, ice cream and Monster together in a blender and then drink it in front of everyone including God.”

Lan WangJi surprised himself when the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Ridiculous.”

He read through more, and found that the half-smile didn’t fade. He put together quickly that Jiang Cheng was the brother, and even though their relationship was very different from Lan WangJi’s relationship with his own brother, it made him miss him. He and XiChen had been raised so strictly, but he wondered if they had lived in a different home, maybe their relationship would have been more like Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng’s, who recorded each other doing dumb stuff like riding downhill in their nephew’s toy car, screaming the whole way until the car rolled over at the bottom of the hill. Who pranked each other with smack-cams and dared each other to try the hottest chili they could find just to see the other person cuss and cry.

Well, maybe XiChen, but Lan WangJi could never see himself doing such things, even with a different family.

He looked further, checking out Wei WuXian’s photos, and he was awed by just how many there were; over two thousand. And it wasn’t because he was a narcissist- although he seemed to like to joke that he was, judging by how many times he captioned his photos with, “Look at that sexy fucker in those shades…and Jiang Cheng”- but because many people had taken pictures of him. He had over a thousand friends, and he had his picture taken with so many people. Wen Ning was in several of the photos as well, often with a woman that Lan WangJi couldn’t help but feel must be Wen Ning’s sister that Wei WuXian had mentioned. In each of those pictures, Wei WuXian was smiling blindingly, whether it was sunny or rainy in the background, whether he was in a cast or standing at the top of a cliff with his arms raised in victory. He smiled with his whole body, everything about him lighting up; his eyes would get all bright, his posture would become animated and exaggerated, and if he was posing with someone, he liked to get really close to them, practically smushing their faces together. He looked…

He looked like he was just happy to be alive.

Lan WangJi breathed a heavy sigh. At the very least, he was pretty sure that Wen Ning was indeed a friend of several years, most likely one Wei WuXian met in college. And the two of them were close. He also couldn’t see any sign that either of them was involved in the military. In this prison, he was probably the only thing that reminded Wei WuXian of home. No wonder he protected him so zealously.

The last post on his page was made just a couple weeks before the battle had taken place, and it said, “No matter what happens from here on out, I’m going to keep making art. No better way to show the North that no matter what they do to us, we’re still going to find ways of being happy, right?”

Lan WangJi quickly clicked out of that page, his chest feeling tight for some reason. Did the Jiangs know where Wei WuXian was now? Did Wen Qing’s sister? He had the sudden urge to write them and let them know that the both of them were alive, but knew that venture would be pointless. He didn’t know where either family lived, and he couldn’t guarantee that their loved ones would still be alive by the time the letters got to them anyway.

He then clicked onto the art site he had found before. It became apparent pretty quickly that this was a site that Wei WuXian himself had made in order to sell his art. Both his and Wen Ning’s pictures were on the home page with a brief description about how they were business partners working to bring a little happiness and color into people’s lives during this difficult time. They listed that they took commissions and some of their base prices, that they delivered outside of the country, and so forth. Intrigued, Lan WangJi decided to take a look at their gallery.

What he was immediately struck by was the range of their art. Both styles were eye catching, but Wen Ning tended to create surreal paintings with bright and deep colors, while Wei WuXian used digital mediums. Wen Ning used a lot of charcoal and Wei WuXian liked watercolors. Wen Ning liked landscapes and Wei WuXian liked people. Wen Ning’s art style was more serious and realistic and Wei WuXian’s was cuter and more fantastical. There was a water color painting of koi fish in a pond with a young lady that looked like it had been modelled after his adopted sister in old, traditional robes feeding them. There was another of a pretty young man standing in front of a red temple with white petals from magnolias blowing in the wind and falling on his shoulders and hair like snow. Lan WangJi was shocked that his first thought upon seeing it was, I really want that hanging in my apartment at home.

 He sat back in his chair, mind spinning in circles. For some reason he just couldn’t equate the exuberant, grinning young man who painted such beautiful pictures and did such stupid things with his brother to the man who regarded him so coldly the other day. Or the timid man who cried and cowered behind Wei WuXian to the same man who painted such serious things.

Lan WangJi had wanted to protect his country from threats. He wanted to keep civilians safe from terrorist groups and those that held malicious intent. He didn’t sign up to torture art college students.

He let out a shuddering breath and exited out of the site.

000

Food shortages in isolated forts and prisons were common, especially during times of war. Lan WangJi had experienced them before in his younger years, either during times of drought or the winter. Everyone’s rations were cut evenly, from the privates to the Generals. It was never pleasant, but of course everyone managed to get by, and no one had ever died.

The rules were different in Wu Ming.

Winter was kicking in full force, and that now meant twenty-four hours of darkness and horrible snowstorms that could last for days. The recent storm was preventing their supplier from dropping off food, and even when the storm stopped, they had no idea when they’d be able to get in again. After all, it wasn’t just the high levels of snow they had to worry about, but the fact that the ice was so much thicker, so boats would have a hard time breaking through it. Even in the air, the low visibility meant planes wouldn’t dare to travel. But just as Lan WangJi was ready to tighten his belt, he found out that their rations wouldn’t change. Instead, it was going to be the prisoners who had to go without.

“But if they take the fall, that means half of them are only going to get one meal a day and the rest will get fed every two or three days,” Lan WangJi said evenly when he confronted Wen Ruohan.

The General just shrugged. “It’s either them or us. Besides, if they’re weakened, they won’t have the strength to revolt or cause us any more trouble.”

“Or it might give them more inspiration to revolt.”

“You can’t always adhere to the rules, Lieutenant. It doesn’t always save more lives.”

To make matters worse, Lan WangJi found out from another soldier that in particular, the ones who had brands were going to get the worst of the ration shortage. Of course, the rationale was that if they were troublemakers in the past, then this would make it even harder for them to continue to do so.

Every bite that went into his mouth, he felt guilty knowing that one of the prisoners was giving up a meal so that he could eat. He knew some of them were guilty, but he also knew that some of them weren’t. However, it really hit him when he was put in charge of overseeing the making of the uniforms one day.

He and six other soldiers were standing in the room, each one posted by a door. A couple of them were walking around the room and making sure that each uniform was being made to perfection, each one leaning over one of the prisoners every few minutes for a closer look, or just straight up taking the uniform they were working and inspecting it critically.

Lan WangJi was standing by the door, gazing over the hundred or so inmates. Each person was sitting or kneeling in front of their own workbench, heads bent over their work, faces as grey as the walls. It was still early in the morning. There were eleven hours to go for them, and the whole place was as silent as a graveyard.

“Faster,” he heard one of the soldiers pacing the room order.

The prisoners scrambled to obey, but Lan WangJi knew it couldn’t be easy for them. The lack of food was heavy shadow on every single face there. He saw many collarbones pushing against skin and thin, bony wrists peeking out from sleeves.  Expecting anyone to be able to work accurately and quickly under ideal conditions was a bit much, but this?

Just then, he saw one of the passing soldiers pick up a jacket that was half finished, go still, frown, and then grab the man sewing it by the wrist. The man started to scream and beg, “No, give me another chance! I’ll fix it, give me more time! I’m sorry, it’s not my fault”-

“You’re the one with the needle in your hand, who else’s fault could it be?” the soldier asked condescendingly.

Without anymore words exchanged, the soldier dragged the screaming man out of the room, right through the doors Lan WangJi was guarding. Lan WangJi shut his eyes, heart hammering with unease at the man’s desperate, pitiful cries.

A little further down the hall they heard a gunshot, and then everything was quiet again.

The prisoners did not dare to stop working, but Lan WangJi could see the tremor in the hands of the people closest to him. His sick feeling continued for long enough that he began to feel antsy, and finally after a few minutes told the soldier next to him, “I’m going out on the floor.”

The soldier nodded, and Lan WangJi left, thankful for the opportunity to move around a bit. In truth, he didn’t want to inspect anyone’s work. He was afraid he would be too lenient given their circumstances, and everyone in here had pulled out at least one prisoner to be executed. The General would get suspicious if one hundred men came in here and one hundred men left by the end of the day. So far Lan WangJi had been able to get away with not killing anyone during this part of his job, but he didn’t know how much longer that would last.

He wandered up and down the aisles, keeping his pace steady, hating how some of the prisoners either sped up how fast they sewed or flinched when they heard him approaching. His uniform and the sound of his boots weren’t supposed to inspire fear. He hated this. He had only been here for a little over a month, but he wondered if there was a way he could convince Wen Ruohan to station him somewhere else. He could come up with a myriad of excuses, and thanks to his reputation he would probably believe any of them. He just couldn’t stand the mindless fear and senseless sadism anymore.

Lan WangJi was brought suddenly and harshly out of his thoughts by the sudden appearance of Wei WuXian’s face in the row of working prisoners. He had no idea that the man was even in here today. And if it was possible, he looked even worse since the last time he had seen him. It wasn’t just his hands that shook, but his arms, and even his feet twitched once in a while. It was possible that it was leftover damage from having been tortured with the Tucker telephone. He looked cold, hungry and haggard like everyone else, but for some reason Lan WangJi’s heart ached even more when he looked at him versus the other prisoners. Was it because he was remembering the vibrant young man he had seen on Facebook? It was as if they were two completely different people. This Wei WuXian looked like he would never smile again. Was he wishing for some of that food that he had taken all those pictures of?

Wei WuXian was so out of it that he didn’t even notice Lan WangJi was there, continuing to work, though his hands were moving slowly over the fabric. His head was bobbing slightly too, as if he was fighting the urge to pass out. In the dead silence of the room, he heard a weak growl echo from the man’s middle.

The moment Wei WuXian noticed he was standing there and lifted his face to look up at him with bloodshot eyes was the same moment that Lan WangJi realized that some of the stitches in the glove he was currently making were way out of place. No one else had seen this, had they? He picked up the glove and regarded it, and when he did, Wei WuXian froze in place. His eyes widened, and his heart pounded so hard that Lan WangJi was sure he could see it smashing against the man’s ribs. He hardly dared to breathe, his soul fleeing his body, like a piece of prey holding still so that the predator wouldn’t see him. His life flashed before his eyes.

But to his surprise, Lan WangJi only glanced around, making sure no one was watching them, before pocketing the glove and ordering in a low voice, “Start again,” before continuing on down the line. 

Wei WuXian gaped at him openly for a full minute as he watched his retreating back, mind still catching up with his body as he realized that he wasn’t in fact going to die. For some reason, he had been spared.

He was too hungry and exhausted to question why, but he supposed in the long run, it didn’t matter. He picked up his needle again, tears in his eyes, and fervently did as he was told, unable to stop shaking.

000

Later that night, Wei WuXian and Wen Ning laid quietly together in their cell. They’d been told they would be getting new cellmates soon. Their previous ones had died just the week before in a carbon monoxide leak that had killed over a hundred people in the mines. How fortunate they had been that been stuck doing other duties that day instead.

Yet that had also been the day he was sure he was going to die, but miraculously hadn’t.

For now, he and Wen Ning enjoyed the quiet in their cell. Not that their previous roommates had been bad people by any means, but they had been there a lot longer than Wei WuXian or Wen Ning had, and were clearly more mentally unstable. It was frightening to wake up in the middle of the night and hear one of them talking to himself, either begging things no one else could see for water, or the other one having a straight up panic attack because he heard something bang in the distance. One time he apologized and explained, “Just sounded like a gun going off.”

Neither of them was used to this. They had always lived in a world where they were guaranteed to see the same faces day after day. But here, the person next to you could be dead the next day, or the next five minutes. Wei WuXian used to complain his life was too boring and was always seeking the next thrill: a new peak to climb, a new distance he hadn’t been able to run, or a river no one else could swim. Now he would have given anything for the stability he used to have, the stability that the nervous Wen Ning needed.

They had been extremely fortunate to be stuck in the same cell, but they didn’t take that fact for granted. During the few hours of quiet they had together, they would rest, holding each other tightly through the night in order to stay warm. They could see their breath in the cell and only had a blanket full of holes between them. Staying close together had probably saved their lives more than once.

Wen Ning didn’t have as many reserves as Wei WuXian had on account of the fact that he hadn’t started off this venture nearly as fit, so he was in worse shape; a little skinnier, a little weaker, and a lot more exhausted. He had been beaten so many times for working too slow that he was nearly always black and blue by now, and it was a miracle he hadn’t been killed. The only reason he hadn’t been was because there was always someone a little weaker, a little slower in the room with him that had been killed instead. It was a sick game here. A person didn’t need to be the strongest in a room. They just needed to be stronger than the weakest person.

“If we were paid employees of this place I’d sue,” Wen Ning told him. “It’s like they leave puddles all over the floors and then tell us to put these live wires near them on purpose. The least they could do is turn off the electricity while we work.”

Wei WuXian sighed and patted his head, and Wen Ning leaned into the action. It was the only gentle contact he’d received all day. “Now I just feel bad that the worst I have to complain about was stabbing my fingers with needles all day.”

Wen Ning shook his head. The two of them had to speak as quietly as humanly possible and pray that no one was around to overhear them. They knew it was a foolish risk, but when you stare death in the face, the fear from that experience has to come out in the form of telling someone about it. “I’ve been on sewing duty too. You’d think such a thing wouldn’t be dangerous, but here it’s just as bad as dealing with live wires.”

“True. You’re not the only one who almost died today.” Wei WuXian leaned in close, and whispered even more quietly, “I messed up on a glove. I’ve been so out of it with how shitty I’ve been feeling that I didn’t even notice until a soldier was picking it up and looking at it. All I could think was ‘oh fuck I’m going to die’ over and over.”

Wen Ning’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“I have no clue. He just put it in his pocket and told me to start over. And, get this, it was the same soldier who let me go back inside early after they made me shovel.”

“You’re sure? The same guy?”

“He’s got the prettiest face out of everyone in this fuckin’ shithole. Even me.” He sighed dramatically, lamenting over this fact. “So yeah, I’m sure it was him.”

“That’s so weird. Not just that he popped up again, but that he was, well, I guess for a lack of a better word, nice to you.”

“Nice for Wu Ming, anyway.”

Wen Ning hummed to himself. A shiver gripped him for a moment, shaking his whole body, and he snuggled even closer. Concerned, Wei WuXian took his hands and cupped them between his own, blowing warm breaths over them and rubbing them, though of course his own hands weren’t any warmer.

“You okay?” Wei WuXian asked.

“Mmm,” Wen Ning assured him. “Keep talking.” Talking would help keep their minds off their own misery. “So, do you know his name?”

“Why the fuck would I care about his name?” Wei WuXian snorted. “I’ve heard him referred to as ‘Lieutenant’ but that’s it.”

“Ah, so he has some clout here. Maybe that’s why he feels more secure in being nice to you.”

“He wasn’t nice to me.”

Wen Ning huffed a laugh. “He spared your life, didn’t he? I’d call that awful nice.”

Wei WuXian didn’t have an answer for that, so he just rolled his eyes and said, “Alright, shut up, before someone hears us. We should sleep, the morning is going to get here way too fast.”

Truthfully, Wei WuXian was just so much more focused on making it through hour by hour that he didn’t have time to stop and ponder the motivations of anyone else in this place. Besides surviving, his only responsibility was to make sure Wen Ning lived through the day with him. Not just because his friend was irreplaceable, but Wei WuXian was paralyzed with terror at the thought of trying to survive day by day without him. Wen Ning was an invaluable source of comfort for him that many inmates didn’t have. He could talk to him about their lives before coming here, and those happy memories had saved their sanity more than once.

Perhaps their bond was made stronger by the fact that they were all the other person had left. Both of their families had been wiped out in the battle that destroyed their homes. And here they thought that the North would never find them, never come to a place as remote as their homes. Why would they? There was nothing besides country fields, cows, rice paddies and mountains where Wen Ning and Wei WuXian had grown up. They only went to the city to get their educations and then came right back. Their neighbors were all farmers. None of them were a threat to the North.

But the North had found them anyway.

Wei WuXian still remembered hearing his adoptive parents scream as the soldiers broke through their front door and began burning the house down with flamethrowers. They all managed to escape out a back window, but the soldiers found them and started shooting at them. One by one, his parents and his brother were all picked off, Wei WuXian being the only one to escape because he was too far out of range. He thought he’d be safe hiding in the woods behind his house. He even met up with Wen Ning there, as he too had been the only one to escape in his family. They huddled together in a thicket and prayed that their sisters, who both lived in the city, had somehow managed to get away from the North.

Of course, even here in the wilderness, they weren’t safe.

After two days of laying low, they were discovered, chased, and captured by passing troupes. Those troupes assumed them to be soldiers, despite their repeated denials. They were put in a truck, then a plane, and the next they knew, they were at the North Pole.

Just a few days after arriving, they’d heard that the city Wei WuXian’s sister, her husband and his nephew lived in had been decimated. All the soldiers had been captured and almost none of the civilians had survived. Sadly, this was also the same city Wen Ning’s sister was practicing her residency in.

But they couldn’t afford to lose hope. If they allowed the despair of their loss to consume them, then there was no way they’d ever make it through their experience in this bleak place. They only had each other now.

Or did they?

Something strange began happening to them over the new few days at Wu Ming. Strange because for once, it was something good. It happened in the cafeteria, where they went every day hoping that that would be the day they would be allowed a ration. There was never a schedule of what days they would get food; it was essentially a crapshoot. So they’d take the chance and show up, placing their tray through the slot, where they couldn’t see the person on the other side, and that person couldn’t see them. It was sad that they were getting used to an empty tray being returned to them. But for a few days in a row, they started getting at least one meal every day, sometimes two.

“Don’t question it,” Wei WuXian advised Wen Ning while they ate. “If you question it, it’s going to stop happening.”

“But doesn’t it seem strange?” Wen Ning asked. “As far as we know, nothing’s changed. The food shortage is still going on, and no one else is getting more rations. So how come we are?”

“Wen Ning.”

“Seriously, we’re the only prisoners I think who are getting food every day. This feels wrong somehow, like we’re cheating. I feel bad. We haven’t done anything to earn it.”

“Wen Ning, hush. We’ve done plenty. We work hard, and we obey their rules. I even give them something to beat up once in a while.”

Wen Ning flinched, brows drawing upward while he frowned deeply, the guilt etched on his face. Wei WuXian drew him close with one arm, holding him around the shoulders while he said, “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that it’s not an egalitarian system in here. It’s survival of the fittest, and there’s no rules in that game. So just shut up and eat your bland oatmeal.”

“O-Okay…”

He knew it wasn’t the answer Wen Ning wanted to hear, but Wei WuXian spoke from experience. Before he had been adopted by the Jiangs, he’d lived in the wilderness for a while, barely scraping by and playing the survival of the fittest game. Unlike Wen Ning, it wasn’t kind and it wanted you dead.

But even Wei WuXian, after a couple weeks of receiving the regular meals and getting jealous looks from other hungry inmates began to get curious. These rations surely weren’t coming out of nowhere? They were the only ones getting them; he was sure, he’d checked with other prisoners. So where were they coming from?

Finally, he got an answer from an inmate during work in the mines who Wei WuXian knew had been in the prison for a long time and had been through food shortages before. He told shouted over the deafening sounds of their equipment drilling, “Well, only the higher-ranking officers have the authority to give extra rations to the prisoners, and it’s usually at the cost of their own. So congratulations, looks like you have friends in high places.”

One of the higher-ranking officers? When he told Wen Ning this new bit of information later that night, the other man suggested shyly, “You don’t think it’s the Lieutenant, do you?”

If they wouldn’t be shot for making too much noise, Wei WuXian would have slammed his head against the walls in frustration.

“I don’t know!” he hissed. “But even if it is him, isn’t that weird? He doesn’t have a reason!”

The days dragged on into weeks, and Wei WuXian was surprised to find that he actually had to convince himself to follow his own advice and not question their good fortune. No, a meal a day was not nearly enough to keep them going, but as they watched others drop dead around them, having been turned into living skeletons, they knew it was better than nothing.

Wei WuXian caught himself watching the Lieutenant when he saw him from then on, trying to gauge what he was thinking, as if he could discern a motive in his expression alone. But that face was icy and expressionless, and no matter how hard he tried to catch his eye, he never saw the other man look back at him.

It was purely out of suspicion, of course. If such a high-ranking official was being nice to them, he must want something in return. And from what Wei WuXian had heard, in Wu Ming, “something” usually meant something sexual. After all, it was all the prisoners had that the officers might want. There were no women in the prison, and after a while, for many of them, the eternal night and cold of the Arctic got to a lot of them, and they wanted someone to warm their beds. Or for the ones that were into voyeurism, he’d heard they threw messed up parties that were like orgies that the prisoners were forced to engage in. Those officers would often feed their favorite sexual partners, maybe because they had feelings for them, but more than likely to keep them alive so they could use them for longer. And if that was what the Lieutenant was expecting out of this, well, he had another thing coming.

That was what Wei WuXian had convinced himself. Yet something happened in the cafeteria not too long after that to cast some doubt on that theory. It was a good day for him and Wen Ning, as they had gotten two meals that day. Or at least it started as a good day until Wen Ning looked subtly beyond Wei WuXian’s head, before gasping and elbowing him. When Wei WuXian looked at him to see what he wanted, Wen Ning just nodded in the direction near the doors, and lo and behold, there was that Lieutenant, standing guard.

“Do you think he’s been following me enough for it to count as stalking by now?” he wondered.

Wen Ning just shrugged. Wei WuXian scoffed. “Well if he’s doing this because he wants sex, he’s going to have to work a little harder than that. I cost more than shitty potatoes.”

His friend looked at him with concern. “You don’t think that’s really why he…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence; the idea was too horrible. Wei WuXian his head. “I don’t know.”

He wanted to say more, but all of a sudden, he noticed something. Was it just him, or was the Lieutenant looking a little pale? Well, his face naturally seemed to be white as snow, so whiter than usual. Except, it wasn’t just him, because not too long later, even Wen Ning observed, “Doesn’t he seem off to you? Like, is he sick or something? He doesn’t seem as focused as he usually is.”

Wei WuXian didn’t answer that question. Instead, he observed the other man for a few more minutes, trying not to make it obvious by turning away every once in a while to absently shove food into his mouth. He finally asked slowly, “Wen Ning…how long have we been getting a meal every day for now?”

That question took Wen Ning by surprise. “Uh- a month or so now? Two months?”

“And how much labor do the soldiers around here do?”

“A lot of the time just as much as we do.”

“Plus we’re all burning up energy here because it’s so cold and we’re trying to stay warm…” Wei WuXian said, mostly to himself.

He looked up the Lieutenant again, now not even pretending to eat. The other man’s stoic façade seemed to be breaking, little by little. His fists tightened by his sides, and his brows furrowed, a line forming between them. A sheen of sweat began to break out on his forehead, and his jaw grew very tight. Wei WuXian saw his throat bob once, twice. Was he going to be sick? The Lieutenant reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose, as if the area was tingling and he was trying to rub feeling back into it.

The soldier next to him saw this and leaned over to ask him something, most likely if he was okay or not. This was indeed worrying; whenever Wei WuXian saw the Lieutenant, he was always stone faced, never giving away a sign of weakness. If he was ill enough to show signs, then he must be feeling awful indeed.

Just then, the Lieutenant leaned against the door and slowly slid down until he was on his knees. The soldier jumped and went to his side, now asking loud enough for others to hear, “Are you alright? Hey, look at me. Lan WangJi!”

He only looked up at the other man for a moment before he slumped forward, his companion just barely managing to catch his head before it hit the floor. Wei WuXian and Wen Ning sat up straighter, craning their necks to get a better look around some of the other inmates who were now standing up to watch the scene. The soldier was alerting their comrades in the cafeteria and saying, “We need a medic!” which drew almost the entire cafeteria’s focus on them.

Wei WuXian and Wen Ning shared a look, but didn’t get up or dare to move in case they’d get in trouble. All they could do was watch as the Lieutenant- no, Lan WangJi- was carried out through the set of double doors.

If Wei WuXian was correct in thinking that the man was giving up his own meals in order to feed them, and now he had just suffered the consequences for such actions…

Both of them felt oddly nauseous for the rest of the day.

000

Slowly but surely, one way or the other, Lan WangJi put on weight, getting more food than he was sure anyone else was getting in this grey place. And though it was difficult, he still managed to hand deliver some of his rations to the cafeteria staff and tell them to give them to the prisoners in cell 213.

He had no idea why he was so bent on making sure those two lived. He had looked up some of the other inmates during his time stuck in the medical bay and found them online as well. They all had lives too. Families, children, people waiting for them to come home. He wished had enough to feed them as well, but he didn’t. So why was he so hung up on the prisoners in 213?

Maybe he was touched by their devotion to each other. There weren’t many like that in this prison that were so selfless. Or maybe it was the fact that both of them were civilians. But there were lots of prisoners that were civilians.

Lan WangJi was growing frustrated. He tried to push them out of his head. Told himself that it was survival of the fittest in Wu Ming. He had seen enough proof of this fact himself. Shouldn’t him fainting on the job be enough to convince him that he couldn’t care about others the way he wanted to? So why was he fine risking his own health for them?

He tried not to pay attention to them whenever he was assigned to oversee their work in the various areas of Wu Ming. But the longer he spent with the two men, the more he realized that his fascination was really not with both of them, but with Wei WuXian in particular. And he wasn’t just protective of Wen Ning, but anyone that looked like they needed help. If there was an explosion in the mines, he was throwing himself over others to protect them with his body. If someone was too weak to get up and keep going during their jobs, he was there pulling them up by the hand and encouraging them with a few words and that blinding smile. If the mood was down among the inmates, he would start singing some well-known songs and try to get the others to join in. To Lan WangJi, it was incredible. He was able to put the spark back in these prisoners’ dull eyes when everything in their environment seemed determined to snuff it out.

He had no idea what was going on, but the interest he held for Wei WuXian inspired a feeling in him that made him feel as if he was looking at a dark, deep abyss. And yet, his heart felt light, like he could jump and fly over that abyss.

Not too long after that realization, they received word that the North had won a major victory, ravaging a key stronghold of the South that they’d been trying to break down for months. The South, weakened by the siege, had given in and surrendered. They even thanked Wu Ming in the letter they sent, saying that it was thanks to their containment of some of the South’s key soldiers and officers that communication was broken down just enough for the North to claim the victory.

After the letter was read over the loudspeakers, cheers went up in the officer’s quarters, and Lan WangJi heard someone scream down the hall, “It’s party time tonight boys!”

Someone else yelled, “Hell yeah it is, we’ve earned it! Pull out all that booze I know you all are hiding under your beds, it’s gonna be a hell of a time!”

In the entire time he’d been here, Lan WangJi had yet to experience one of the parties that Wu Ming was famous for, even among other non-government regulated prisons. Though from what he’d heard went on during them, he had no interest in attending. It didn’t sound like a good time to him for one thing. For another, it went against everything he’d been taught by his uncle, namely the bits with the drinking and promiscuity. Yet his comrades tried to convince him otherwise.

“You’re making it sound so horrible, it’s not! Everyone has a good time, even the inmates.”

“Exactly. They get free meals, booze, and a good fuck, what more could you want?”

“Just come down for a little bit, yeah? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you don’t have a good time, you can leave.”

Even the General pressured him to go, telling him, “Don’t be like your uncle, Lieutenant, loosen up a bit. It’s so rare we get a chance to enjoy ourselves. Prove to me that the Lans are capable of having fun.”

But Lan WangJi had still refused, until someone threatened to fill his room with snow while he slept unless he went. And it was the thought of having to clean the mess up or waking up freezing in the middle of the night that finally convinced him that five minutes was a small price to pay for avoiding the headache.

The second they were done with work, the officers took over one of the larger breakrooms, turned on some music, and set about passing out booze and cigars. Lan WangJi didn’t know much about either, but he did know that the brands of both were not cheap. But he had a feeling they could be drinking alcohol and smoking cigars they found in gas station bathrooms and they would still be out of their minds with excitement. When they tried to pass either to him, Lan WangJi held up a hand in refusal, enduring all their jeers, their hisses and boos at the fact he was such a stick in the mud. But he didn’t care. Besides the teachings of his family, he wanted to remain alert for whatever went on between now and later. Who knows what mayhem these idiots might cause? Someone needed to be sober in case someone got hurt.

Once the smell of alcohol and cloud of cigar smoke filled the room, someone waved their glass and called out, “Alright, who’s gonna go to the cell blocks and find a couple of cum dumpsters for us?”

“Yeah, some pretty ones,” another person added. One soldier started to get up and that same person grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back into his chair, growling, “Not you, I don’t trust you. You pick the hairiest motherfuckers this place has to offer.”

A few men volunteered, grinning excitedly, saying they’d be back in a couple of minutes. One man shouted at their backs, “Choose someone prettier than the Lieutenant!”

There were wolf whistles and chortles, and someone shouting, “Good fucking luck with that!”

Lan WangJi shut his eyes and sighed, ignoring them.

The soldiers came back much sooner than he expected. They were holding three inmates in total, all of them quite young. The youngest couldn’t have been older than fourteen, and that was bad enough. But what made Lan WangJi’s stomach drop to his feet was seeing Wei WuXian among the three faces.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” one person cheered.

“They look so soft, like girls. You sure these are really guys?” another asked.

One of the soldiers holding one of the boys’ shoulders patted it in an almost friendly motion, causing the boy the flinch, and said, “Only one way to find out.”

At those words, Wei WuXian struggled out of the soldier’s grip and put himself between the two boys and the group of men, holding an arm out so they’d remain where they were. His eyes were wide and there was a subtle quiver to his legs, but he bared his teeth at them men. However, he didn’t look very threatening. He was as tall as most of the soldiers, yes, but he was stick thin, his uniform all but swallowing him up with how big it was on him.

When one of the soldiers made a grab for him, Wei WuXian slapped at his hands. When another man tried the same thing, to everyone’s surprise, he lunged forward and bit him so hard that when the man pulled his hand back, the skin had been broken. There were a few “ooooh”s behind them and some men even snickered into their hands.

The soldier with the bitten hand smirked and said, “I knew I picked the right one. Usually the inmates just lay there and do nothing. Looks like we found one that knows how to have a little fun.”

With that, a few more of the soldiers, ten of them at least, got up from their chairs and joined their comrades, forming an uneven barrier around the three inmates so that there was no escape. The almost stalked around them for a minute, before lunging and making a grab for one of the boys. The boy shrieked and scratched his arm, making him let go. A few of the soldiers came at them from both sides, pinching the thighs and buttocks of the boys. The younger ones were scared enough that they clung to each other and endured it, freezing up. Only Wei WuXian seemed to be angry or foolish enough to fight back, lashing out and trying to bite whoever got close.

Lan WangJi felt sick; they were like wolves harassing an injured bison, testing it for weaknesses until they found one, waiting for the perfect moment to go in for the kill.

He admired Wei WuXian’s bravado. The other man still stood tall, snarling and kicking at the men, stomping on toes and even nailing someone in the crotch. The soldiers even laughed when their comrade went down, clutching at his groin. But after while they grew tired of playing around, bored of the fighting back, and with what seemed to be a silent signal passed among them, they all grew serious and grabbed the three inmates, pulling them apart.

They split into three groups, four of the men holding onto Wei WuXian because he was fighting the hardest, screeching and thrashing and slamming his head backwards into the man that held him, trying to smash his face. But the soldier kept dodging, and while someone held Wei WuXian’s shoulders, he managed to wrench those flailing hands behind the prisoner’s back.

Once he was secure, one soldier casually uttered, “Well what are you staring at? Strip em. We ain’t got all night.”

At those words, all of Lan WangJi’s blood turned to ice, even more so when he caught the panicked look that flashed over Wei WuXian’s face. But those words sent up a new frenzy of fighting, Wei WuXian redoubling his efforts to get away. It got to the point that the soldier holding his arms behind his back had to sit down on the couch and wrap his legs around the other man’s as well. Still, when someone reached for the buttons of his uniform, he lunged forward and sank his teeth into their hand. The person who he bit winced, and ordered someone else, “Alright quick, do it.” That was when a third person came over and began unbuttoning their prisoner’s clothes.

Wei WuXian let go of the previous man and tried to bite this new person, but the first man gripped his hair and wrenched his head back so far he struggled to draw in a breath.

Lan WangJi wanted to get up and stop them, but he couldn’t. He had no doubt if he protested, he’d be ignored, and if he physically tried to separate them, well, there were many more of them than there were of him. And it wasn’t like those in charge of the building didn’t know these parties happened. There was no one he could report to. And if he left the room, he felt that in an odd way, he would be betraying Wei WuXian by leaving him alone with these men, as absurd as that sounded. So, he just sat there, helpless, growing more ill with every passing second.

Things only got worse from there. They didn’t dare to let go of Wei WuXian’s arms or legs, so they could only push aside the flaps to his shirt and pull down his pants and underwear to his ankles. Lan WangJi could see his middle flexing as he panted hard and tried to curl in on himself, as if to hide from view. But the soldiers weren’t having any of that. One securely grabbed one of the man’s ankles and forced his legs to part.

Four sets of eyes were glued onto him, and though Lan WangJi wanted to look away, he couldn’t. He kept his eyes on Wei WuXian’s face, too horrified to look any lower. The other man was gritting his teeth, arching his back in a useless attempt to free himself. Lan WangJi could see his heart pounding so hard that he swore his pulse was fluttering in his neck, and as those greedy eyes drank him in, that anger quickly switched to horror and embarrassment. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose turned bright red, and tears beaded at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m almost a little disappointed,” one soldier groused. “He really does have a dick.”

“Well what did you expect to be there, a humpback whale?” another snorted.

“Yeah, just close your eyes when you fuck him. It’ll feel just like a cunt when he starts bleeding and things get slippery.”

At those words, Wei WuXian froze, eyes widening, before he uttered pathetically, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, please let me go. I’ll do anything, I swear I’ll do anything! Please…”

The one holding his head back scoffed, “Let you go? Where’s the fun in that for us? I mean, you can keep begging if you want though, it sounds nice.”

Lan WangJi swore he could see the very moment the hope was snuffed out of his eyes.

They took turns with Wei WuXian and the other boys for hours. The soldiers would switch up who got to restrain the inmates and who fucked them. As time wore on, it seemed like most of the men in the room had a turn with each of them.

And Lan WangJi was willing to bet that no less than forty men had forced themselves on Wei WuXian.

Of course, there were far more soldiers than that in the room, but the others seemed to be content to sit back and watch, though a few of them did masturbate to the sight. It was terrible, downright sick. Lan WangJi couldn’t fathom for the life of him what they found so erotic about the whole thing. All the inmates did was scream and cry as they were entered dry and with no preparation again and again, scream until their voices gave out. Lan WangJi’s throat grew tight when he saw that Wei WuXian had grown so exhausted that he didn’t fight anymore, though his legs did jerk whenever someone new shoved their cock in him. But he was completely limp, head lolling and his body bobbing up and down as the person thrusted into him, holding up his heavy waist. His face grew whiter and whiter as the night wore on, lips ashen grey. More than once he fainted, escaping the pain for a few moments, before someone either slapped him awake, twisted him around to shove a dick in his mouth so that the lack of air would wake him up, or someone else entered him once more and the pain would rouse him.

It was hours before they grew tired of him. He stopped giving them the reactions that they wanted, his voice so hoarse that he no longer cried, so tired that he didn’t move. After the last person tucked themselves back in their pants, they dropped him, letting him crumple into a heap onto the floor with a thud. Wei WuXian was so limp in fact that someone asked, “Is he dead?” Except they asked it with the same tone of voice that someone might ask if it was sunny out. Lan WangJi held his breath.

To his relief, Wei WuXian stirred, groaning miserably. He tried to get himself on his hands and knees, but even that seemed to be beyond him, his arms giving out and pitching him to the floor. Lan WangJi flinched when his head hit the concrete. The soldiers laughed.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, someone said, “Well since he’s still alive, what do you think? Another few rounds? The others aren’t moving at all.”

With a quick glance over to the two boys, Lan WangJi realized that was true. The other inmates were bleeding heavily, so much so that it looked like they weren’t going to be walking out of here alive. Lan WangJi’s heart ached. They didn’t deserve that fate. None of them did. He couldn’t save them. But maybe he could still help Wei WuXian.

When the other man heard their words, he tried to get up, but again he fell. However, this time instead of his head smacking against the floor, Lan WangJi caught it in his palm. He had gotten off the couch and subtly put himself between Wei WuXian and the soldiers. Clenching his jaw with the effort, he carefully picked the other man up, holding him under his armpits and carrying him back towards the couch. His stomach clenched when he noticed fresh blood steadily trickling down one of his thighs amidst older, dried blood already staining his skin. He then set him on the couch next to him, Wei WuXian wincing. Lan WangJi was amazed he didn’t faint from the pain he must be in, but he hoped that sitting down would stem some of the blood flow. He then sat down next to him, removing his jacket and settling it over Wei WuXian’s shoulders, drawing it closed in front of his chest. Thankfully it was long enough to cover his lap as well; more than enough people had seen him naked tonight.

Wei WuXian quivered all over uncontrollably, though from what, Lan WangJi wasn’t sure. Was it fear? Cold? He couldn’t blame him. Fear could make one cold, and so could losing blood. He drew the other man close to his chest, hoping his body heat would help. He meant it as a purely innocent gesture, but apparently no one else in the room saw it that way.

“Well well Lieutenant, I should have known you’d be a classy fuck,” one soldier said, coming up and slapping him on the shoulder. “Gonna take your time with him I see.”

“Of course he’s classy, he’s a Lan,” someone added.

Another person drunkenly shouted, “It’s because he’s a Lan that I’m surprised he even knows how to fuck!”

Everyone that was well into their liquor by this point thought this was absolutely hilarious and broke out into laughter. However, they weren’t the only ones who thought his intentions were less than innocent. Wei WuXian’s chin trembled, as if he was trying to hold back tears. He didn’t pull out of Lan WangJi’s hold, but it was clear he wasn’t happy to be there either. His breathing was shaky, interspersed with little moans and whimpers. Looking down at his neck again, he noticed that once again his pulse was pounding visibly in it. His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap, and when Lan WangJi shifted to get themselves in a more comfortable position, Wei WuXian flinched violently. The bravado from before was completely gone, and in its place was this broken creature. Lan WangJi ached for him, and couldn’t rein in the instinct to comfort. He pushed his hand under the coat and started rubbing the skin of his back in slow, easy motions, but that only seemed to make things worse. The dam broke, and Wei WuXian started crying, soft sounds he was attempting to hold back, sniffling as his nose began running.

Then, to Lan WangJi’s horror, he whispered, “No, no…don’t, I can’t”-

He broke into a coughing fit, voice so shredded that it burned his throat to speak. Lan WangJi looked around, then spotted the cup of water he’d been drinking out of and picked it up, offering the rest to Wei WuXian. The man accepted the cup, though he needed Lan WangJi’s help to drink, his hands shaking too badly for him to hold it.

Then, when he put the water down, Lan WangJi said for Wei WuXian’s ears only, “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. No one else will touch you tonight, and everything that happens from here on out is all for show.”

The minute he said that, someone looked back at him, and to back up his words, his started stroking lower on his back, right above his rear. Wei WuXian tensed up and squeezed his eyes shut, chanting, “Please no, please, please,” over and over. The soldier flashed Lan WangJi a thumbs up, and went back to speaking with his friends. When he turned his back, he went back to his original place on Wei WuXian’s upper back.

“It will be okay,” Lan WangJi assured him. “Easy, shhh…”

He didn’t think Wei WuXian believed him at all, yet bizarrely, after a couple minutes, the other man started to lean into him and even placed his head against his chest, bringing his hands up to clutch at Lan WangJi’s shirt. The action made Lan WangJi’s throat tight. The other man was completely wrung out, so much so that he was desperate for any form of comfort. Even from someone who wore the same uniform as those who had hurt him.

Eventually, the soldiers began to pass out, either because of the late hour or the fact that they were blackout drunk. Many went back to their rooms while the remainder laid haphazardly around the room. When things grew quiet, Lan WangJi helped a tense Wei WuXian up off the couch. However, the other man only remained on his feet for a second or two before his legs gave out. Lan WangJi caught him under his armpits.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Lan WangJi asked.

Wei WuXian didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed the other man away, forcing himself to stand up. He swayed for a moment, getting his bearings, before he began hobbling along, talking one step every few seconds. Lan WangJi hovered by his side, just in case. Wei WuXian pulled the coat tighter around his body and refused to look at him.

“Let me help you wash up before you go back to your cell,” Lan WangJi suggested.

Shellshocked, Wei WuXian didn’t have it in him to say no; it was easier to go along with whatever he said. Numbly, he let himself be guided to the bathroom, one of the officer’s private bathrooms no less. Wei WuXian stood in the middle of the floor, clutching the coat like a lifeline as the other man moved around, finding a wash cloth and soap. When Lan WangJi returned, he flinched away, waiting. It only made sense. They were somewhere private now, so that was obviously why the Lieutenant had brought him here. He didn’t share the same voyeuristic kink as the others, Wei WuXian figured.

But to Wei WuXian’s surprise, he didn’t rip the coat off his shoulders and bend him over. He didn’t start making demands. All he did was hold out the soapy washcloth towards Wei WuXian.

Wei WuXian stared blankly at it, too exhausted to lift his hands to take the cloth and his mind too much in chaos to concentrate on doing something so simple. Lan WangJi sighed and asked, “May I take off the coat and help you wash?”

Still, Wei WuXian gave no reply. So, Lan WangJi took the initiative, slowly and as gently as he could manage, removing the coat so it plopped to the floor around their feet and wiping Wei WuXian’s face.

There was blood and semen on his cheeks, around his lips, stringing between his eyelashes. Lan WangJi wiped it all away. Wei WuXian didn’t fight him, though he trembled on and off. Lan WangJi was forced to feel every prominent bump and ridge of his deprived frame; the pit of his collarbone, the hills and valleys of his ribs, and the bumps of his spine. He looked like he would break if washed too hard.

Soon, Lan WangJi came down to his rear, and with a bit of hesitation, quickly cleaned the other man out, only looking when he had to. Wei WuXian made no protests except to grunt and tense his lower body. Lan WangJi watched the red water wash down the drain.

He had fallen into a sort of trance, his mind racing with horror as much as Wei WuXian’s was. So, it surprised him when the man broke the silence and said, “What do you want from me?”

His voice sounded awful, no more than a breath with a bit of inflection. Confused, Lan WangJi replied, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you helping me?”

That didn’t really answer his question. Lan WangJi thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Because being a soldier is not the same is being a sadist. I didn’t sign up for any of this mindless violence. I wanted to protect my country, and you are part of my country.”

Wei WuXian’s upper lip curled in disgust. The man was lying, had to be. He was toying with him. If he was so against violence and this war, then he wouldn’t have said yes to being stationed out here. He had to want him for something else. Like-

….like using you the way those other soldiers did tonight? He had plenty of chances to do so. He has a chance to right now. But he’s not taking any of them.

Wei WuXian shook his head. Lan WangJi wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He wasn’t. He was just like the rest of them.

Except, he hadn’t done anything to prove that he was. And Wei WuXian couldn’t find a reason to believe that what he was saying was anything other than the truth. So did he not want to believe him because he felt he was lying? Or because he was scared to?

000

No matter Wei WuXian’s thoughts on the matter, he did have to admit that things were different between him and Lan WangJi after that. An uneasy peace seemed to develop between them. Whenever Lan WangJi was there to oversee them, Wei WuXian began to fester a small belief under all the doubt that he wouldn’t hurt him, and he never did. He even started to think that maybe he was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t a sadist. But that wasn’t true, right? All he had to think about was the soldiers that captured him and Wen Ning and threw them into the back of that truck to convince him otherwise.

He definitely would not think about how nice Lan WangJi smelled when he had let him lay against his chest on that couch, or how gentle his hands had been when he cleaned him. He couldn’t. Otherwise he might lower his guard, and that would be a death sentence.

Lan WangJi on the other hand could not forget the feeling of Wei WuXian in his arms. The thoughts frightened him, but he couldn’t get seem to get rid of them, no matter how much he tried to throw himself in his work.

And that was when Lan WangJi realized.

From the beginning, his need for justice wasn’t all just for keeping the prisoners safe. In particular, he wanted to keep Wei WuXian safe, and the people closest to him. He didn’t want him hurt, or to die, and he found himself wanting to keep him close so he could make sure of that.

But Lan WangJi didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts any further, because he had to get to cell block C. Apparently there was another incident, but thankfully they didn’t need him to help identify who had done it. They were taking care of the interrogating themselves. They just wanted him there to help oversee the cleanup of the mess made from the incident.

He walked swiftly down the aisles of the prison blocks, once more enduring the cat calls from horny men telling him he had a pretty mouth, and those with pretty mouths had tight asses or some nonsense that made his skin crawl. Once he left this place someday, he was never stepping inside a prison again.

However, those feelings of unease only increased when he heard the sound of screaming echoing down the hall. And once he recognized the scream, he broke into a run.

Sure enough, when he got to cell block C, it was Wei WuXian who was the one crying out, but he wasn’t being hurt like Lan WangJi initially thought. No, he was being restrained, by other inmates no less. There were four of them, all practically laying on him. Clearly they had all been cleaning peacefully and were interrupted by Wei WuXian; his bucket of soapy water was spilled everywhere and his mop had been tossed to the side as proof. He was fighting with everything he had, tears streaming down his red face, and he was screaming wretchedly, “Let me go! Let me go so I can kill all of them! I’ll burn this place to the ground! I’ll kill every last fucking soldier in here!”

“Shut up,” one inmate hissed desperately. “Or you’ll be next!

“I don’t fucking care!” Wei WuXian screeched. “I don’t care if they kill me! We’re all going to burn together!”

“What’s going on here?” Lan WangJi demanded. “Let him up.”

The inmates jumped and gazed up at him with fearful eyes, all except Wei WuXian, who looked at him with eyes full of murderous intent. One inmate said haltingly, “I’m sorry sir but…we don’t want him to hurt anyone. So we’ll just hold him down until he calms down.”

“Calms down from what? What happened?”

The inmates all glanced at each other, as if debating whether or not they should say anything, until fear of retribution won out and someone said, “Someone made a mistake sewing uniforms today. They say there’s been too many mistakes lately, so they’re cracking down on punishment. So instead of just taking the offender out, they choose five other people. One of those five people they chose was his cellmate.”

Lan WangJi’s heart froze in his chest.

No…

He was about to turn and run towards the execution chamber, but one inmate said, “Don’t bother, sir. They killed all of them in front of us so we could um, ‘see for ourselves what happens when you don’t follow directions.’ It’s too late.”

Wei WuXian, who had gone quiet for a moment to catch his breath, resumed struggling anew, arching his back hard and screeching in such a way that it made the hair on the back of Lan WangJi’s neck stand on end. It was a sound no living thing should make; more like an angry spirit.

“You’re part of them!” Wei WuXian cried up at them, his eyes bloodshot. “It’s your fault he’s dead! If your fucking friends hadn’t burned down our houses and brought us here, he wouldn’t- we wouldn’t- it’s your fault, it’s all your fault!”

The words shouldn’t have bothered Lan WangJi, because of course they weren’t true. They shouldn’t have. And yet, because they came out of Wei WuXian’s mouth, for some reason, they cut him as sharply as any knife. Even worse was the glare that the man was fixing him with. Those eyes wanted him dead, and yet they were empty, completely devoid of the spark Lan WangJi had always seen in them. They were the eyes of a stranger, and worse yet, there was nothing he could do to help.

000

Wei WuXian wasn’t the same after that.

He kept his word, making life for the soldiers a miserable hell whenever he could. Now that he had nothing to protect, he went with whatever impulse he had, whether that was ignoring them when they gave him an order, splashing their feet with the dirty water in his cleaning bucket, or outright cursing them out to their faces. It got to the point that the incidents with him were so numerous that they removed him from the cell block and threw him in solitary confinement.

Solitary confinement here was not like how it was in normal prisons, where you were put in a well-lit cell with heating, AC and the standard three meals a day. In Wu Ming, it was a hole that you were thrown into and left there until you stopped screaming. The walls were concrete with no way of climbing out. Food and water were given as rewards if the prisoner was quiet, and only if they remembered the person was down there. But Wei WuXian never screamed out of fear, only anger. He screamed until he was hoarse all hours of the day and night.

Then after a day, he fell silent.

The only reason he quieted down was because hypothermia was settling in, and when Lan WangJi had heard where Wei WuXian was, he ran down there himself and scooped him out of the hole.

“He needs to be taken to the medical bay,” he said.

But one of the soldiers with him reminded him, “They won’t treat prisoners, sir. It’s a waste of their limited resources. Besides, they work under Wen Ruohan and obey him first, so even if you ordered them too…”

Lan WangJi was furious, but what could he do?

So, he decided he would take care of Wei WuXian himself.

There was no way to crank up the heat as high as he needed it to be in his room, or anyplace in the prison, to his knowledge. Wrapping Wei WuXian up in a blanket, he told him, “I’m sorry, endure it for a moment,” before taking him outside. The man shivered in his arms, though it was sporadic. Lan WangJi had one of the cars in his sights, one that had been left outside on top of a freshly shoveled path, and he quickly ran there.

When he opened the door, he got inside with Wei WuXian on the passenger’s side. After shutting the doors, he turned on the car and cranked the heat as high as it would go, pointing all of the vents towards them. He then positioned himself so that Wei WuXian was in his lap, opening up his coat and wrapping it around the both of them as best he could so that the other man was closer to the heat of his body.

In no time at all, the car filled with heat. Lan WangJi had wrapped almost his entire body around Wei WuXian, even hiding his face inside the folds of the blanket and his coat. It was a few minutes before Wei WuXian began shivering, first sporadically, then constantly, and Lan WangJi breathed a sigh of relief. He felt his pulse, and noted that it was growing stronger, and when he dared to peek at his hands, they started to become warm to the touch. So the hypothermia wasn’t as severe as he first thought. That was a relief.

Gradually, Wei WuXian, who had been drifting in and out of awareness ever since he found him, grew more alert. He moved around more, trying to lift his head, and then putting it back down, his arms and legs moving as well as the feeling in them returned. After almost thirty minutes of being in that car, Wei WuXian finally lifted his head and managed to look Lan WangJi in the eye.

He narrowed his eyes at him, confused, maybe even still angry. Dazedly, his eyes flicked back and forth, the movement delayed as he fought to return to full awareness. He seemed to be trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there. It definitely took a minute or two before his mind cleared, and when he did, Lan WangJi could feel him trying to get up.

“Hold still,” Lan WangJi said. “At least until you regain more of your strength.”

The last thing Wei WuXian remembered was feeling so cold he couldn’t think, and growing very sleepy. It was so warm now…ah, that must have been it. Lan WangJi had found out about him being stuck in that hole and pulled him out. Now he was trying to warm him up. He had saved him. Again.

Wei WuXian froze, not trying to get away anymore, but not completely relaxed either. Lan WangJi bit his lip and his hands fidgeted where they were clasped together on the other man’s side. Eventually, he said, “I understand that you’re angry beyond belief, and you have every right to be. But it is not a reason for you to act rash. If you value your life, you need to be careful. Wen Ruohan tells me the relatively strong, healthy prisoners like you that refuse to cooperate are used as experiments. I’ve heard the screams of those that are used. They’re…” He shuddered, and bowed his head. “They cut them open and remove organs, then wait and see how long it takes the person to die. They’ll infect a person with poisons, then open them up and watch the effects. Do you want that to be you? To have a lung removed and gasp for several minutes without air? Or be infected with something like arsenic and have a bunch of men leaning over you and watching your insides as blood vessels erupt and you hemorrhage to death? Will all of your fury and lashing out be worth it then?”

The man didn’t have an answer for him, though Lan WangJi saw his frown deepen.

Determinedly, he told him, “I don’t want you to end up like that. If you’re too stubborn to care about your own life, fine. I’ll do it for you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Wei WuXian finally ground out. “This time or any of the others.”

“But do you mind receiving it? Do you really want to die?”

Once again, the other man was silent, completely still except for his pitiful shivers. Lan WangJi chanced tightening his hold around him, saying, “I know you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have fought so hard for so long.”

Wei WuXian still refused to look at him. He mumbled, “What’s the point of fighting now?”

“Fight for your friend. He would not want to see you succumb.”

Wei WuXian swung his head around to glare at him. “How do you know what he’d want? You didn’t know him. You don’t know anything about him, or me.”

Lan WangJi flicked his gaze down and away, feeling guilty. “Actually, I must confess that soon after I met you, I searched your name online. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I’ve looked up other prisoners online as well. However you in particular…fascinated me.”

He chanced a look up at Wei WuXian. The other man’s narrowed eyes had softened somewhat, though he still appeared wary.

“Your previous life looked so…warm and happy. The opposite of mine. My family loved me, but when I saw- it made me long for what you had. The closeness you shared with your friends too. Wen Ning…I saw very clearly how much he meant to you. And I don’t know how much it’ll mean coming from me, but I am sorry for your loss.”

Wei WuXian searched his face, looking for a single sign of insincerity, but to his shock, he found none. Those golden eyes were earnest, filled with a kind of grief Wei WuXian had only found within himself since losing his friend. No one had been sorry about his death. Everyone had treated him like he was crazy for being sad over him in a place where death was as common as the snowflakes outside.

Wei WuXian felt his throat tightening up. Something inside him was breaking under the pressure of having to put up this constant front. It was from months and months of having to be on alert, to be the one to comfort and stay strong, when all he wanted in that time was for someone to be the one to tell him things were going to work out. In this bleak, desolate place, hearing the words, “I understand,” and feeling the touch of hands that didn’t want to harm was like ambrosia. Against his will, tears stung his eyes, and he snuck out a hand to wipe them away. But they wouldn’t stop coming.

Lan WangJi’s eyes widened, shocked that the man was openly crying in front of him. But that was alright. Lan WangJi didn’t mind. Wei WuXian deserved to cry and let out everything he’d been keeping inside.

Still, to hear the little hitches in his breathing, to listen to the sounds of tears pattering on the blanket, it made Lan WangJi’s chest ache. He wished he knew how to make him feel better, but he didn’t know if he even had a right to attempt such a thing.

He looked out the window, and up in the sky he could see the flickers of green and purple light. Lan WangJi nudged Wei WuXian, and the man wiped at his eyes again before following his gaze.

“I’ve never seen the northern lights before,” Wei WuXian said, a touch of awe in his voice.

Lan WangJi replied, “I hadn’t either before I came here.” He paused, before adding, “My brother told me the gods painted the lights in the sky, and the vertical columns are the drips from their brush.”

Wei WuXian blinked at him, more of his tears falling down his cheeks, but his face grew a little less tight. “Sounds like something I would have told my brother. Then he would have told me I was full of shit.”

“Mn. I told my brother the same thing. Though not using those exact words. My family doesn’t curse.”

The other man snorted. “Should have guessed.”

Lan WangJi was curious as to what he meant by that, but wasn’t brave enough to ask. Instead he said, “Maybe they are just lights, but my family taught me that the spirits of our loved ones watch over us. Perhaps that is one of the ways they show they’re still with us.”

Wei WuXian “hmph”-ed in disbelief, and to Lan WangJi’s astonishment, he laid his head on his chest. He looked up at the other man, and seeing the surprise on his face, Wei WuXian said, “What? I’m still freezing my ass off. This will probably be the warmest I’ll be for days. I’m going to enjoy it while I can.”

Lan WangJi didn’t offer a reply. He just sat there and allowed himself to be used as a human heating pad. He shocked himself when he thought about how they’d have to go inside at some point, and how reluctant he was to let Wei WuXian go back to his cell block.

Softly, Wei WuXian eventually uttered, “Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to, but you did. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your mercy, but I’m grateful for it.”

“…Lan Zhan.”

“Hmm?”

“Call me Lan Zhan. It would be…nice to be more informal with someone here.”

Wei WuXian’s heart pounded a little harder than normal, for some reason. Relaxing a bit more against the other man, he replied, “Not a bad idea. I’m Wei Ying, then.”

“Mn.” He pushed the blankets further up around his shoulders. “Should you ever get out of here then, Wei Ying, I would love to purchase some of your art.”

A warmth Wei WuXian couldn’t put a name to filled his chest. He couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto his lips as he said, “Well, I suppose I could use the money. The war has made me flat broke.”

000

If Lan WangJi thought his actions would make Wei WuXian behave himself, he was wrong.

He had really thought they connected. And yet the man was still bent on causing whatever chaos he could. He was done with letting the soldiers push him around.

Any time they shoved him, he would shove back, literally. He resisted at every turn, cursing every soldier who gave him trouble, and told them in the name of Wen Ning, he wouldn’t rest until he’d taken revenge on them.

It all came to a head when soldiers caught wind of a plan of his to start a riot.

Considering how brazen Wei WuXian was and the fact that he was already a known troublemaker, they took him seriously. The General even called all of his higher-ranking officers together and told them, “I don’t care how you do it, but I want Wei WuXian on a metal table prepped and ready for us to slice up for the organ trade. I don’t even care if he’s already dead or not. But if he gets the other inmates going, we could be in serious trouble.”

Lan WangJi couldn’t stand by and let it happen.

But what could he do? He was just one man against dozens and dozens of his comrades. Not only that, but if he tried to stop them, they might see him as a traitor, and the North was not kind to traitors.

Lan WangJi made up his mind. He was going to find a way to stop this riot and save not only Wei WuXian, but as many people as he could. Seek justice. Protect as many as possible. Those were the values his family drove into him.

Later that evening, he got on the phone with his brother, and after they exchanged hellos, Lan XiChen asked, “Everything okay?”

After a pause, Lan WangJi said, “…No. It’s not. I need your help with something.”

000

Wei WuXian was woken from a fitful sleep a few nights later, and the minute he felt the hand on his shoulder, he was harshly reminded of the last time this happened, when a group of men dragged him out of his cell to take him to a party. He started fighting before he was even fully awake, determined not to let such a thing happen again.

However, he stopped when he heard a voice drift toward him that said, “Wei Ying it’s me. It’s alright.”

In the pitch black, Wei WuXian went very still, and then cautiously reached forward to feel the face of the person in front of him, then around to the back of his head. Once he felt that bun, he relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

“I need you to come with me,” Lan WangJi said. “There’s no time to explain. Keep your voice down, and stay low.”

Wei WuXian was thoroughly confused, but did as he was told. Besides, he seemed so on edge, in a hurry in a way Wei WuXian had never seen before. They snuck down hallways, Lan WangJi holding his sleeve to guide him and to make sure they didn’t get separated. Thankfully, there were far fewer guards up at this time of night, and Lan WangJi knew the area well enough that they were able to get through the building undetected.

To his surprise, they ended up outside. It was almost just as dark out here; not even the outside lights were on. Only the snow was creating an eerie glow that allowed them to see. And there was a dark shape cut sharply against the snow waiting at the end of the one of the paths.

It was a sleek, black van. What was it doing here? Wei WuXian looked to Lan WangJi for answers, but the man didn’t offer him any, pushing him along. His mouth was set in a grim line that made Wei WuXian’s heart pound with uncertainty.

When they reached the side of the van, the driver, who Wei WuXian couldn’t see, rolled down his window, and Lan WangJi spoke briefly with him. So the Lieutenant had called him here? Wei WuXian grew wary, wondering what was going on. With a final nod shared between the two of them, the driver rolled his window back up, and Lan WangJi opened the rear door.

Wait…so he wanted him to get in the car?

Wei WuXian didn’t move. He was suddenly very nervous, and flashed Lan WangJi a look that begged for an explanation.

Hastily, Lan WangJi said, “The driver is a friend of my family. He’s served us for many years, so I trust him.  He’s going to get you out of here and drive you to a safehouse my family owns. You are to remain there until things die down. I want to try and help as many inmates as I can, so I can’t leave with you right now. But I hope when the war ends and they send me home, I can come find you.”

Wei WuXian was speechless, gaping at him openly. He was frozen, stunned, so Lan WangJi assured him, “It’ll be alright. The safehouse is full of supplies, and if you’re careful, you should be able to make them last for a long time. It’s well protected; no one knows where it is except the Lans, and they’ve agreed not to harm you.”

He gave the man a forceful push towards the open door, and Wei WuXian didn’t resist. He fell down on the seat, still staring up at Lan WangJi, shaking his head slowly.  “Why?”

It was a loaded question, and Lan WangJi understood all of the implications. He simply answered, “I don’t want you to die here.”

And that was all the warning Wei WuXian received before the Lieutenant leaned in and kissed him.

It was brief, but it still made Wei WuXian’s eyes widen and his heart shoot into his throat. Lan WangJi pulled back, and then pushed some loose hair behind one of Wei WuXian’s ears. He stared at him for short moment that seemed to be suspended in eternity, his eyes burning with an emotion that Wei WuXian couldn’t name, but he felt it choking him. Lan WangJi backed away, and Wei WuXian tried to follow him out of the car.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasped.

“Get him to the border,” Lan WangJi ordered the driver hoarsely.

“Lan Zhan!”

The car door was slammed shut. The van sped off, snow spewing up from its tires as the driver made haste.

Lan WangJi watched as it grew further and further away until it was a small, black dot on the horizon. It was only then that he allowed his tears to slip silently down his cheeks.

000

Wei WuXian barely existed outside of his own head. Ever since that car door had been slammed in his face and Lan WangJi vanished from his view, he didn’t see a point to.

He was vaguely aware that he’d made it to the safehouse. He remembered a set of keys being pressed into his palm, and words from someone, a promise, but Wei WuXian didn’t know if it held any meaning.

Lan Wangji had no idea how badly he’d ruined him.

Wei WuXian convinced himself that everyone in Wu Ming, in the North, was an enemy. He had to in order to keep his adrenaline up, his guard up, everything up, up, up. But what goes up must come down and what Lan WangJi had done brought everything crashing into the ground. The Lieutenant was supposed to be one of them. He was supposed to have toyed with Wei WuXian. He was supposed to be cruel to him, hurt him. He was supposed to give Wei WuXian more reasons to hate. And that hate was supposed to fuel his sanity, his survival.

But now it had fled.

If he was careful, he could make the food in the safehouse last. Well, Wei WuXian certainly did that. He only sporadically remembered to eat, as if he was afraid he’d be punished for doing so. He was still a prisoner. He thought he’d lose the mentality once he left his cell, but it followed him, and he didn’t know how to shake it off. Wouldn’t he be punished for taking extra rations? What about the other prisoners who couldn’t eat?

What about Wen Ning, who would never eat again?

Yet like back then, Lan WangJi provided for him. He couldn’t take it. He wanted to destroy all the rations, every amenity, the entire safe house. He didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve to live. He’d done nothing to earn the breath in his lungs. There were so many other prisoners who had children depending on them, a sick relative who would die without their care, geniuses who were going to make a contribution. He was just an artist with a family who tolerated him. But even all of that had been destroyed.

So he ignored the food. Ignored everything that had to do with Lan WangJi and retreated, retreated, retreated. He hid himself in every shadow he could find, whether it was outside of him or inside. He couldn’t move, instead kept falling further and further. He was vaguely aware of the sun, its first visit in months, the first time it didn’t come from an artificial source. It threw itself across his face in yellow strips through the blinds. But it was too late for it to do its job. He already preferred the shadows, no longer afraid of what they hid. He’d already experienced the worst of what they could throw at him. Those soldiers in their leather gloves and hats and boots had already destroyed him. That smile Lan WangJi had seen online was long gone, torn to shreds by those forty men.

The only sound that piqued his interest was the cawing of the crows outside.

Sometimes he saw them flapping by the window. Black shapes that cut into the sky, black like the leather he was forced to stab with a needle again and again for twelve hours a day. Sometimes if he looked too fast, he saw those leather gloves and wonder when they learned to fly.

Those crows sounded like a graveyard. He wondered if he could ask them what the dead tasted like so he would know if the predators up north had enjoyed the taste of Wen Ning when they threw him into the sea.

Time stood still, but Wei WuXian’s mind was spinning. It felt like it was about to explode. It made him dig at his arms and smear his thoughts on the floor. But all he could think of was those crows and those leather gloves.

And how Lan WangJi didn’t actually hate him.

He burst into tears.

The bottom finally came rushing up to meet him.

That was how Lan XiChen found him.

Later, he said he found Wei WuXian in a corner of the room, half dead from dehydration and starvation surrounded by smears of blood, some of which he’d created pictures out of. The only clear pictures were of birds in flight. Even when his mind was in turmoil, it still craved art.

Lan XiChen’s presence hurt. Wei WuXian learned he was Lan WangJi’s brother, but even if he hadn’t said anything, the physical resemblance was more than enough of a tip off. He didn’t like looking at him. When he did, all he remembered was a voice telling him he didn’t want him to die and lips that tasted like ashes. He made sure Wei WuXian ate and drank. Asked if he should take him to a hospital. Wei WuXian pulled himself together long enough to say he was fine where he was.

He learned it had already been a month since he’d come to the safehouse. And he found himself asking stupidly, “How is Lan Zhan?”

He didn’t receive an answer for that. Instead, Lan XiChen asked, “Did he tell you to call him that?”

Wei WuXian kept his mouth shut. Instinct told him that the longer his jailor stayed around, the more likely he was to be hurt. But hadn’t Lan WangJi said no one would hurt him?

Lan XiChen continued, “He never lets any of us refer to him by that name. He must really like you.”

Wei WuXian couldn’t help asking, “But why? I never asked for him to feel that way about me.” Please tell me you hate me and that I’m not good enough for him so I have an excuse to never see him again. Because I’m so scared of the alternative that it drove me mad for a while.

But the Lieutenant’s brother just shrugged. “Who knows. The only clue I ever got was him telling me in a letter that he’s finally found the kindness he’s been looking for.”

Lan XiChen stopped over many more times after that, both to give him news about the outside world and to check on his health. Wei WuXian behaved and didn’t fall into the state he had before. Though it took a long time for him to adjust to life outside the shadows. Slowly but surely he got used to the company, and the two became what could even be seen as friends. Wei WuXian enjoyed Lan XiChen’s steady patience and Lan XiChen told him he admired his art. Lan WangJi had sent samples of it to him online, he said, and made him look at them. He’d told him they were all rather pleasing to the eye.

“That’s WangJi speak for ‘I need these all hanging in my home or I will die,” Lan XiChen explained.

He started bringing Wei WuXian art easels, paper, and paint to give his burning, overactive mind something to work with rather than blood, and Wei WuXian took full of advantage. Art can only be created in the sunlight, so that’s where he stepped. He learned little by little that his chains were only self-imposed, the key to all the padlocks weighing him down at his disposal. He was only a prisoner of his own making.

However, it would take a long time for him to gather up the courage to use that key.

In the meantime, he ate. He slept. He enjoyed the quiet. He got used to the fact that he was not going to wake up to darkness and go to sleep to it, that the sun hadn’t disappeared forever. He painted in the light, made his hands remember things he thought they had long forgotten. For a while, his paintings were things he didn’t recognize, full of grays and blacks, faces of anguish and tears that he couldn’t be sure if he drew or cried himself. Before he knew it, Tucker telephones, branding lasers, pools of blood and horrific sexual assaults all screamed across the paper. But he had to get it out. He had to prove to himself that these things happened, that they weren’t bad dreams. That if someone tried to convince him he’d imagined them, Wei WuXian could look at these and know they were wrong. He sweated and cried and bled over these nightmares on his canvas for months and months, in the summer sun and the winter snow.

Until finally, a year had passed.

It was only after that year, when Wei WuXian had long forgotten the pain of his stomach clawing at his ribs and his abdomen was no longer flat and tight with starvation, when the smell of blood began to fade and the sound of bodies splashing into the sea dulled, that color finally began to appear on his canvas again. He created the sketches and watercolors that he used to during his college days, and for the first time, he heard Wen Ning’s shy voice echoing near his ear and it didn’t make him burst into tears. He drew beautiful things, soft lights, flower petals in the wind, faces smiling in the rain. The memories were all coming back, and they felt warm and familiar instead of things he’d lost forever.

But something new began to work its way into his paintings, something gold Those golden eyes staring back at him had startled him the first time. They kept making their way onto his canvas, again and again. Wei WuXian didn’t try to stop himself.

“It’s always kindness with you,” he said to that face as he made it come alive. “You liked me because I’m kind, and I clung to you for the same reason. I wonder if that’s enough though?”

The longer he stared at the beauty he’d created and thought about how long since he’d last seen it, his heart throbbed again and again. Yes. Yes.

 Lan WangJi didn’t have to do what he did. He could have been like the others, but he was like these colors on his canvas, a bright spot amidst all the blackness. He was that bit of sunlight Wei WuXian hadn’t realized he needed all along.

So when was the war going to end so he could come here and he could tell him that already?

The answer came in the form of a letter that Lan XiChen delivered to him one day. His face was grim, skin grey. He bowed his head and handed Wei WuXian the message.

The words blurred in front of Wei WuXian’s eyes, and he found his mind going to that blackened place once more. He could hear the graveyard again in the crow’s calls outside.

Wu Ming…Lieutenant…terrorist attack…explosion…MIA.

Lan XiChen looked at him with eyes filled with tears. He was no fool. He’d been in the army long enough to know what MIA most likely translated to, especially in an inhospitable place like the north pole.

Wei WuXian’s soul shattered for the second time.

000

He wished he knew how to take the pain out of his memories. They were supposed to be comforting things for when times got bad. For the mornings when Wei WuXian woke up but didn’t get out of bed until the sun went down again. For the afternoons when a smell reminded him of being in the mines. For the evenings when a shadow made him see the laser they used to brand him.

Wei WuXian’s family was large and full of love. Whenever anything had scared him before, there was always someone there to squeeze his fear out of him with a hug. He was never alone.

Now he was always alone.

Bad things still flashed in front of his eyes, things he knew weren’t there. But his mind did everything to convince him they were, that his life was in danger again. The silence made it easier to believe in the illusion, and Wei WuXian lost hours of time this way.

Lan XiChen noticed, of course. How could he not? He was pretty much the only one that ever visited him. He noticed the loss in weight, the bruising under his eyes, the listlessness of his frame. He offered to send him to a doctor, told him PTSD was not something to be taken lightly. Wei WuXian shook his head, saying he didn’t want a doctor.

He surprised everyone including himself when he uttered in a small, pathetically childish voice, “I want Lan Zhan.”

He was just so sick of everyone leaving him. Everyone who had ever held him in their arms, who shielded him from the bad things in the world, why did they all have to die and leave him here? What had he done so wrong to be punished like this?

Wei WuXian didn’t realize he’d asked these questions out loud, or that he started crying, until he saw Lan XiChen’s look of pity. Wei WuXian didn’t care. He felt weak and frightened out of his skin. He didn’t care if he looked pitiful. For once, he wanted pity. He wanted someone to feel bad for him.

He wanted someone to feel whatever about him, as long as it made them hold him. It had been over a year…Lan WangJi had been the last person to-

The tears flowed faster, and Wei WuXian covered his mouth as a sob threatened to climb up his throat.

Lan XiChen hesitated for a moment, and then awkwardly embraced him, but Wei WuXian leaned into them, hiding his face against his chest. He squeezed him so tightly he was sure he heard the other man’s back crack. He sobbed and moaned and shivered, wetly crying out the names of the people he’d lost; his parents, the Jiangs, his siblings, Wen Ning and…and-

“Lan Zhan,” he begged breathlessly. “Lan Zhan…Lan Zhan…”

His mind started to sink beneath the surface of his own desperation. Lan XiChen smelled like Lan WangJi, felt the same with the shape of his chest and how firmly he held him. Wei WuXian disappeared into a scene in a car with the heat on high and lights in the sky flickering overhead.

Maybe they are just lights, but my family taught me that the spirits of our loved ones watch over us. Perhaps that is one of the ways they show they’re still with us.

He hadn’t seen any lights in the sky since he’d arrived here.

Things continued like that, seasons melting into the next. Wei WuXian couldn’t find the color in his life again. The only one that appeared to him was gold; gold in his dreams where Lan WangJi gave him the same, desperate look he had when had after he’d kissed him, gold in the words of comfort his half-mad mind would supply for him in the other man’s voice.

Gold in every memory he had of him.

It was slow and gradual, but eventually, his memories began to soften. The shadows were right under the surface, but much brighter were the dapples of sunlight over the surface of them. He brought more color into his own world with a memorial garden behind the safehouse that he worked on perfecting over the years. It was carpeted almost entirely with forget-me-nots and roses.

Wei WuXian spent as much time in the garden as he could. They weren’t lights, but he hoped they’d bring Lan Zhan near him. He painted here. Remembered. Cried. Forced himself to smile again. Wished for impossible things and tried not to cry all over again.

He started selling his work again and after a few years, saved up enough to move out of the safehouse. But he didn’t want to leave, not yet. Something tethered him here. Maybe it was the garden. Maybe it was the shadows trying to sink into his skin again.

More than likely, it was the promise that had been made to him.

But that promise didn’t hold weight anymore, considering. Lan WangJi couldn’t return to him. He had to let go of the past; hadn’t it done enough damage? Wei WuXian pulled his knees up to his chest and stared up at the sky, paintbrush hanging loosely from his fingers and half painted canvas in front of him. The sun was going down.

The crows had turned into songbirds, and they were flying home to their roosts. Wei WuXian wished he could fly to his. But maybe he was too busy pointlessly waiting for his home to fly to him.

Impossible.

Maybe this was a sign he didn’t belong anywhere anymore. The war had turned him into a bird that went wherever the wind took him, except it had turned the lovely the plumage he used to possess into leather. No one would ever love or pity a leather bird.

Except another leather bird.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei WuXian gasped quietly. The gold in his memories flared to life and dripped down, down, down his spine, replacing his blood and filling him with a light so bright the shadows were washed away. He turned towards the back door of the safehouse.

Even Lan WangJi’s tears glistened gold in the light of the setting sun as they spilled over his cheeks. Wei WuXian answered with tears of his own and smiled with his whole body.

“Was it me you missed?” he asked. “Or my art?”

Lan WangJi’s answering smile was like the northern lights over the snow. He held open his arms, and when Wei WuXian ran into them, all of the colors in the world returned.