Once upon a lifetime

Prologue

-Revised 22/04/22

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Lan Wangji's eyes trailed Wei Wuxian's stumbling figure with careful trepidation; as if his gaze slipped away for even a second, then the Patriarch that he knew and loved would meet his demise, existing no longer.

Dried tracks of shed tears stained Wei Wuxian's face; fresh ones trailing down his cheeks with unrivalled vigour as he bitterly laughed, pointing the threatening frame of Chenqing in the direction of the vigorous crowd of lifeless puppets and power-stricken cultivators. His eyes were open, pupils lengthened into small, scarlet slits as unshed tears blurred his vision; a great mass of darkness lurking deep within.

Lan Wangji bit down any longing calls he wished to voice before making his way through the dexterous battlefield of cultivators, sword in hand, ruthlessly cutting through the mirage of nuisances preventing him from reaching his beloved. Wei Wuxian walked closer to the edge with small steps of trepidation, his laugh dying down, instead morphing into a helpless cry of pleading, as if calling for someone to rescue him from the hell that lay before them.

Lan Wangji's demeanour briefly faltered, his eyes widening upon sudden realisation. His body trembled in both fear and anger; as to which one fuelled him presently, he didn't know. "Wei Ying... Come back!" The words were spoken at barely a whisper, yet through the hectic screams of the battlefield, Wei Wuxian supposedly still heard it, for he turned his gaze to Lan Wangji and sent him a small smile.

An unforeseen event occurred that very second, shocking all who witnessed it into submissive silence: Wei Wuxian stepped backwards, legs dangling off the edge, arms spread wide beside his torso like an eagle preparing for its incoming doom. Lan Wangji leaped forward with a newfound strength, fuelled by merely his inordinate senses alone, as he reached out, grabbing Wei Wuxian's thin wrist of a pale, almost industrial-white, colour.

Lan Wangji ignored the crimson blood that drizzled down from within his injured arm, trailing down and splashing onto Wei Wuxian's face in splatters of red like rich ink. And despite the searing pain that enveloped his whole being, he ignored it in favour of attempting to pull the other back up but to no avail. The lack of blood weakened his once robust arms, his hand faltering from where it encased Wei Wuxian's.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian mumbled, a serene smile present on his tired visage. "Let me go."

Lan Wangji shook his head vehemently, instead focusing on the way Wei Wuxian threatened to pull away. Not even his cold gaze, his indifferent attitude, nor his dismissive manner could protect him now; not like how it did all those years ago, when they were both still young and naive about the world.

Before they could even calm their nerves and sift through the hectic scene of the present situation, the sound of footsteps emerged from behind, the clanking of boots the only sound they could dissect as if the entire battlefield suddenly went silent.

Lan Wangji's eyes rested on a particular sword that emerged from behind him, one that had the characters "Sandu" engraved on its blade in fine craftsmanship.

Realising who had appeared, as well as their negative intentions, Lan Wangji weakly cried, ignorant to the heartbreak within his voice, "Jiang Wanyin, stop it...!"

Jiang Wanyin's eyes didn't even spare him a glance before he was raising Sandu above shoulder-point, eyes resting intently on his once-brother, "Wei Wuxian! Go to hell!"

As the sword's sharpest point thrusted into the edge of the cliff, Wei Wuxian took Lan Wangji's moment of shock to his advantage and pulled his hand from within the grip, closing his eyes as he fell further and further away.

"Wei Ying!"

'He's gone.' Lan Wangji realised. 'Wei Ying is gone.'

'And he will never return.'

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You know what I'm just gonna cringe for a moment and walk away-