Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mounting, suffocating dread lays heavily within Chu Wanning’s stomach, only adding further to the heavy weight of his shixiong that he’s desperately attempting to drag to safety back to Sisheng Peak. This was exactly what he had feared would happen, and he had unfortunately been proven right. He should have known better—he did know better, and yet he still listened against his better judgment just because of a few pointed words. Just because of his own fears and insecurities.

“What, do you think I’m not good enough? That I can’t even watch your back and dispatch a few petty demons?” Han Qiang had yelled at his back when he tried to walk away after dismissing his shixiong’s request of accompanying him in sealing a nearby breach, “Do you really look down on me—on us that much, Chu-gongzi?”

The accusation stung deeply—not even because it was entirely inaccurate. Chu Wanning has an objective view of people’s abilities, sometimes in a brutally honest way. While he didn’t think his shixiong was incapable, he was far too green, too inexperienced and hotheaded. Which made him not unlikely to be prone to endangering himself unduly, even when or especially when facing even weaker demons or ghosts.

But the way the other boy had phrased it reached an unexpected part of him straight to the core of his insecurities. That his own shixiong, shijie and even shizun, thought he was so arrogant as to see himself above all of them. Using the word us, in a way that not only excluded him, but implied there being opposing sides where he is alone against everyone else.

He can’t believe he allowed his emotions and someone’s opinion of him cloud his judgment, and who ended up suffering because of it? His shixiong may be older and his senior, but that was all for formality’s sake—the other boy hasn’t even had his coming of age ceremony yet, much less actually going through his first real mission outside Sisheng Peak.

Shamefully, Chu Wanning knows that a big part of him is also worried of what his shizun might think. Of how much further this would only lower the man’s opinion and view of him. And rightfully so, not only because of his mistake, but because of his audacity to even worry about his shizun’s goodwill towards him when his shixiong was unconscious and injured, slung over his shoulders.

They’re technically still within Sisheng Peak’s grounds, yet the way to the healers feels so far away with every step he takes. Though the demons that escaped the rift were weak, there were a lot of them. A horde of insect-like demons that had paralyzing, venomous stings. It’s uncharitable to think it, but he would have easily defeated them had he been alone—if his shixiong weren’t so eager to throw himself into danger to prove himself.

Frustration builds within Chu Wanning as he moves sluggishly, far too slow and uncoordinated, missing the urgency the situation required. His body feels strangely weak, struggling to carry even the unremarkable weight of his shixiong. His surroundings dizzily blur together, leading him to single-mindedly follow only the hazy-looking paved path leading back towards Sisheng Peak.

It’s long since gotten dark, too, and their shizun and everyone else must have already noticed they were missing. Or well, that Han-shixiong was missing, at least. He hopes some of them have gone looking and that they cross paths soon—he’s not confident in his ability to stay conscious for longer.

He bites his lower lip hard, fearing he’ll spill the contents of his stomach with the way bile and blood twine together at the back of his throat. Still, he determinedly pushes past the scream his muscles give with every movement he takes. With his trembling legs, Chu Wanning takes one step forward, feeling a white-hot pain flood his vision before taking another, and continuing to do so, one after the other. 

—

In the end, it’s shizun that finds them, just as Chu Wanning reached past the outskirts of an empty, abandoned pavilion and back to the path leading to the main area. Chu Wanning watches his shizun’s expression go from surprise, relief and horror all in quick succession. The man’s emotions have always been plain and open to read, and Chu Wanning is struck even further at the visible furious worry on the man’s face. His shizun calls out to them, his voice and tone reflecting his expression, marching hurriedly to where Chu Wanning had stopped walking.

“What happened?” Mo Ran barks out, already moving to take his shixiong’s slumped form off of Chu Wanning’s shoulders, “Where the hell were you two? Why is he unconscious, is he injured?”

Chu Wanning swallows back the gurgling, bubbling bile tinged with iron before answering, “Insect demons. He went with me to close a rift.”

Mo Ran makes a strangled noise as he turns to Chu Wanning, filled with indignation and disbelief. But Chu Wanning keeps speaking, past the burning in his throat, “He got stung by a few—they were paralyzing stingers, I believe.”

His shizun takes a deep breath, shaking his head, but doesn’t look Chu Wanning’s way as he says, “You know full well your shixiong’s still too inexperienced. How could you let him come with you?”

“I…” Chu Wanning falters, the blame and accusation in the man’s voice feeling like a gut punch, “I’m sorry—”

His words are drowned out and interrupted by his shizun’s words, “I’ll take him to the healers, you’ve done enough.”

With that, his shizun and his shixiong’s forms slowly become smaller as they move away. Chu Wanning stays rooted in place until they disappear entirely, before he feels the scalding stinging in his eyes, and the unpleasant, burning sensation spreading painfully from his gut to his chest.

Still, with a couple of blinks, no liquid expels itself from his eyes, and Chu Wanning begins to slowly make his way to the same direction. He should at least see to the end what his idiotic actions have wrought, and to at least see his shixiong is safe and out of danger.

—

Chu Wanning has no idea how fast word travels, but somehow some of his shixiong and shijie are already at the healers as well by the time he gets there. Tanlang Elder sounds annoyed by the amount of people crowding his place, but he doesn’t do more than snarkily comment briefly. With all the other disciples inside, the elder doesn’t even glance in his direction, not even to insult him.

Han-shixiong appears to be awake now, at least, mournfully whining to their shizun how it hurts. Well, at least the other boy was awake now to complain about it, Chu Wanning muses. In a way, he envies that openness—of how simple it is for some to just…say what they feel. And perhaps, even more enviably, to have someone care and respond to that distress.

“Shut up, you’re not dying,” Tanlang Elder reproves with a click of his tongue, “There’s barely any venom in your system—are you truly so weak to have passed out from that?”

“Lay off of him, Tanlang,” Mo Ran says lowly, clearly pissed off but also knowing he has to endure considering his disciple’s safety is in this man’s hands.

Eventually, Tanlang finishes administering the cure and fixing up other injuries, “There, done. Stay or don’t stay—I’ll be going back to my work. Don’t disturb me this time unless someone’s actually in need of my help.”

Everyone seems to take that as a cue to crowd around even closer to Han-shixiong’s bed, with shizun at his bedside. They all talk at once, though are careful to keep it low in order not to disturb Tanlang. Various worried and relieved sounding voices talk over each other.

Chu Wanning stands a foot outside the crowd, blinking once as he bites his lower lip, wringing his hands in front of him slightly. It seems like he won’t be able to at least say his apologies tonight. With one last glance at the blur of figures, Chu Wanning wordlessly turns around, his body tensing as he puts weight on his bruised ankle, and quietly makes his way outside, making sure not to disturb any sleeping patient on the way with his footsteps.

It’s deep enough into the night now that only Chu Wanning is present in the vicinity of Heaven Piercing tower. Though he knows no one will look for him, he’s always outside at this hour anyway that they wouldn’t find it odd even if someone did.

It wasn’t entirely an unconscious decision, always spending his time beneath this haitang tree. It’s where he first met his shizun, after all. Such a large man yet all crouched down and hunching just to help a couple of earthworms—something he hadn’t realized that someone else gave the time of day to do as well.

He knows he should work on expelling the venom from his system. After all, no matter how harmless, it was still venom. And no matter how little there is per sting, a little amount piling on each other can still cause significant damage. But he’s…tired, and he just wants to rest for a little bit. It’s fine—he can rest a little bit here, he’s done so multiple times before, so long as he wakes up before training starts.

—

“I’m sorry shizun,” A-Qiang says after Mo Ran finally asks him what exactly happened, “It’s my fault…I even slowed Chu-gongzi down because I’m so weak—”

“No, don’t say that,” Mo Ran automatically soothes. He hates it when his disciples talk disparagingly about themselves, “I just want to know what happened.”

“But it’s the truth,” A-Qiang sighs, “Chu-gongzi’s always going alone closing breaches, but he’s never come back injured like this.”

Before Mo Ran can come up with comforting words, A-Qiang continues, “Speaking of…where is he? Did he make it back safely too?”

Mo Ran internally sighs fondly at the thoughtfulness. Despite the boy’s occasionally headstrong attitude, he still has enough compassion to worry about someone else even though he’s the one lying on the bed injured. He also can’t help but glance around a bit bitterly at the reminder, unsurprised not to find Chu Wanning there. Of course the boy wouldn’t even care beyond his duty, even though Mo Ran had explicitly said where he was taking A-Qiang.

Unexpectedly, A-Yun speaks up in reply, “I…I saw him earlier, just as he was about to leave. He left after Tanlang left, but I think he’s been there long before that.”

The words and its content surprise Mo Ran, he thought A-Yun wouldn’t even speak of the boy after what happened recently. But he supposes she has a forgiving nature after all, and it worries him. Beyond that though, he’s surprised to find out that Chu Wanning had been here after all. He feels guilty suddenly, thinking so uncharitably about the kid just a moment ago.

“I think he might be hurt?” A-Yun whispers, as if even implying Chu Wanning has a weakness was a transgression against the heavens, “He was walking stiffly—limping a bit? But I’m not sure…”

That makes Mo Ran pause, unable to comprehend the implication that Chu Wanning was injured. It’s not something he even entertained as a thought, but now that the possibility of it presented itself, he finds that he’s deeply bothered by the mere idea of it. It was a ridiculous thought; as if Chu Wanning, a zongshi at a very young age, could get bested by some petty demons, or at least enough to get injured by them.

A wave of uncertain but worried murmurs come over the rest of his disciples, some also disbelieving but still unable to dismiss A-Yun’s words. She wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t think it was worth mentioning, after all.

“I’ll check up on him,” Mo Ran offers, initially with the intent of appeasing his disciples. Still, he finds his feet already moving hurriedly to the exit, increasing rapidly until he finds himself in a half-jog.

It starts out as a small, nagging worry at the back of his mind, running around Sisheng Peak without any sign of the boy. It slowly turns more restless the longer he goes, unable to find Chu Wanning. Before, when he had been searching for the two of his disciples, he hadn’t felt quite as frantic—somehow he was sure that if A-Qiang was with Chu Wanning, that they would be okay.

But then A-Yun’s words had put into the forefront something Mo Ran hadn't even considered. That Chu Wanning could possibly get hurt or injured. Something about the thought clings to him uncomfortably, itching and clawing. He feels blindsided by it too—because of course Chu Wanning can get hurt, too, he’s still human after all, which makes him not entirely invulnerable and still fallible despite how he appears.

By the time he actually does find Chu Wanning, his chest is heaving both from running and the worry and guilt that had been building up within him. Mo Ran almost doesn’t see him, almost doesn’t recognize the boy and would have walked past him if he hadn’t decided to look twice.

Curled up near the haitang tree near Heaven Piercing tower is Chu Wanning, looking strangely small and vulnerable with the way he was positioned, arms folded close towards him with his hands beneath his chin.

Mo Ran feels a twinge that turns into something twisting in his chest at the sight, caught utterly off-guard. He had been expecting for the boy to be stoically tending to his wounds, if he was injured. Hell, he’s even expected Chu Wanning to just be training or something if he wasn’t. But this…finding him asleep, curled in on himself in a way that makes him so small, almost like he’s afraid to take up space despite the wide and open grassfield—this isn’t even anything like Mo Ran was expecting.

He all but collapses on his knees as he kneels in front of the boy, his dread growing impossibly further when it doesn’t so much as cause Chu Wanning to twitch in reaction. Mo Ran reaches out to press a hand on the boy’s forehead, hissing when he finds it scalding to the touch.

“Wanning, Chu Wanning,” Mo Ran calls out to his disciple, tapping him on the cheek in an attempt to wake him, “Wake up, Chu Wanning—”

Very slowly, the boy’s eyelids twitch and begin to move, before revealing glassy, unfocused eyes that don’t quite look up at him. Still, Mo Ran heaves out a slow sigh of relief, at the very least, Chu Wanning is conscious now.

“Come on, we need to get you to a healer,” Mo Ran moves to help the boy to a standing position, urging him quickly. The fever might very well be from the same venom that A-Qiang had to get flushed out earlier. If it’s progressed to a feverish stage then it can’t possibly be a good sign—it means it’s stayed in Chu Wanning’s system long enough for his body to react to it beyond the initial symptoms.

But then, as Mo Ran’s just got Chu Wanning upright, the boy makes a sudden noise that causes the air to be punched out of his lungs. It’s such a soft, barely audible whimper, but so identifiably pained and hurt. It’s so utterly, completely unexpected that he almost doesn’t realize it’s from Chu Wanning for a split-second, yet the moment he does, he feels all his nerves light up in response, protectiveness and pure worry fill him.

Immediately, Mo Ran is very gently helping Chu Wanning back down to a sitting position, making soothing noises as he does so, “Hey, it’s okay—you’re okay. Where does it hurt, can you show me?”

Chu Wanning doesn’t respond nor look up at him, not that Mo Ran expected him to. The boy is, after all, still quite prideful—he can’t expect this kid to just admit he’s hurt so easily. But still, with his cheek pressed against Mo Ran and barely able to keep himself sitting up, he finds that he can’t even muster up any annoyance, just pity at the miserable state his disciple seems to be in.

There’s a quiet, almost gurgling sound, and Mo Ran is almost certain that his disciple was going to puke on him. And he was right—sort of. Except…instead of vomit, what bursts out of Chu Wanning is something very deep, liquid red that it almost looks black, splattering all over even though the boy had belatedly brought a hand to cover his mouth.

“S-sorry,” Chu Wanning murmurs almost inaudibly into his hand, voice still sounding wet and choked up. He tries to push Mo Ran away, which only makes Mo Ran hold him closer and tighter, “Your robes—”

That causes Mo Ran to snap out of the horrified stupor he fell into, and more than a bit hysterically he hisses, “Nevermind my robes! You—you’re hurt. We need…we need to get you to Tanlang now.”

Chu Wanning thankfully nods, but then he suddenly stands up before Mo Ran can stop him, grimacing visibly for a moment. It was only a flash—but there was undoubtedly pain visible on the boy’s expression. Chu Wanning was in pain, and it must be from his leg or foot—just like A-Yun had warned him, how Chu Wanning was likely limping when he left.

But of course this stubborn, impossibly boy took Mo Ran’s words to mean as he needs to get himself to Tanlang now. Turning away from Mo Ran with his own strength and beginning to walk away despite his possibly injured leg. Everything about this situation and scene is horrifying and pitiful, and Mo Ran kind of wants to tear his hair out and cry a bit, maybe a lot.

This feverish kid just spat out blood on him, then proceeded to stand and walk on his injured leg, and the most he expressed of that pain was a tiny whimper and a flash of pained look. Even pride or arrogance can’t fully explain this, right?

“What are you doing?” Mo Ran still asks despite himself, frazzled and panicked, “Stay still, I’ll help you so just—don’t move, okay?”

Chu Wanning has the audacity to blink and look confused, as if Mo Ran’s the one not making sense. If it weren't for the glassy-eyed, slightly vacant expression and the stark red splatter vividly contrasting against his skin and robes, it would almost seem like his usual unamused and haughty look.

His disciple’s pride be damned, Mo Ran smoothly picks Chu Wanning up in his arms, his worry mounting further when the boy doesn’t immediately react. He had expected a fight, or a violent reaction, but instead Chu Wanning just sort of slumps a bit, cheeks pressing against Mo Ran’s chest, blinking his unfocused, drooping eyes. And if Mo Ran wasn’t for some inane reason convinced before that something was wrong, now he really knows for certain.

“Ssh, you’ll be okay,” Mo Ran comforts his disciple as he holds him closer, though the boy hasn’t displayed any distress beyond the earlier whimper, “Shizun’s here, we’ll get you all healed up.”

Chu Wanning’s expression furrows slightly, and he blinks slowly before speaking in a small, hoarse voice, “Shizun?”

“I’m here,” Mo Ran reassures, unable to ignore the way his chest twists painfully at the uncertain, confused tone Chu Wanning calls him with.

It’s difficult to even think with the various tides of emotions and thoughts flooding his mind, but he does know that there is one thing that the different parts of him are in harmonious agreement with. And it’s to get Chu Wanning to a healer to take away the pain that his disciple had only betrayed feeling briefly.

Chapter Text

It has been a very, very long time since Mo Ran has felt this helpless. Nothing of what little he knew of healing had been able to help Chu Wanning, even a little bit. And so he’s left with no other choice but to find a healer in the dead of night, at an hour where even Tanlang Elder had turned in for the night.

Predictably, Tanlang is beyond irritated at being disturbed. Mo Ran is almost certain that he would have been instantly turned away and told to return tomorrow, were it not for the limp, unconscious figure in his arms. He seizes the opportunity to explain the situation as quickly and briefly as he can.

“Why didn’t you just bring them at the same time?” Tanlang sneers at him in annoyance after he speaks, but closes the front door behind him rather than at Mo Ran’s face, “Are you so intent on wasting my time?”

He knows it was mostly due to the other Elder’s irritation for being disturbed so late and making it fully and well-known. But it ruthlessly strikes into the dead center of his core anyway, scathing and piercing. Why didn’t he wait for Chu Wanning, or at least check on him or ask after him?

Mo Ran doesn’t say anything in response, and rapidly walks ahead, intending for his silence to be an answer in itself. It’s certainly less damning than admitting he didn’t know his disciple was hurt, and didn’t think to check or ask in the first place. Though he hadn’t quite realized it, a part of him mistakenly believed Chu Wanning to be invincible or untouchable in a way.

Not once since Mo Ran carried Chu Wanning in his arms did the boy stir nor wake. Even when Mo Ran had tried to wake him to disrobe at Tanlang’s behest to remove any stingers and clean any possibly infected or still poisoned wounds.

Mo Ran couldn’t help but hiss in sympathy at the sight of bruises covering Chu Wanning’s back, the purple and yellow stark against the boy’s pale skin. The color suggests, however, that the bruising has been present for a few days now. Entirely unrelated to his injuries sustained today. Something unpleasantly cold and heavy settles at the pit of Mo Ran’s gut. When could this have happened? He can no longer think of today as a one-off, rare occurrence.

“What happened here?” Tanlang asks with mild, disdainful interest, raising an eyebrow. Not for the first time today, Mo Ran finds himself unable to answer Tanlang's question. Not unless an ‘I don’t know’ counts as an answer.

“Do make yourself useful and clean his wounds,” Tanlang throws at him, “I’ll see if we have a concentrated enough inhibitor for this.”

“Do you not have more of what you gave to A-Qiang?” Mo Ran asks, fearing the answer. He distinctly remembers the healer using barely a couple of drops to give to his other disciple.

“Unless you count death as a cure, I certainly wouldn’t give Chu Wanning the dose of that antidote required to counteract the amount of venom in his system,” Tanlang rolls his eyes condescendingly, before continuing, “It’s effective in small doses against proportional levels of venom. But just as most of anything, it’s lethal in larger doses.”

Before Mo Ran can ask anything else, Tanlang turns and walks away, leaving him with Chu Wanning’s unconscious form. They were told before that the venom in A-Qiang’s system wasn’t lethal, just paralyzing and numbing, nothing toxic enough to kill or truly endanger him. He feels something thick and nauseating at the back of his throat at the man’s last words. ‘But just as most of anything, it’s lethal in larger doses.’ That…seems to refer to more than just the supposed antidote.

Very, very carefully, Mo Ran begins to work on cleaning Chu Wanning’s wounds. The boy is lying on his front, his arms and hands laid on each side of his head. He visibly shudders when Mo Ran presses a damp cloth against his wound, his hands fisting on the sheets.

Mo Ran feels his chest squeeze, pulling away briefly, before steeling himself and continuing. He’s highly conscious of the pressure he’s using, keeping his movements gentle, afraid of pressing against the bruises on the boy’s back. It looks like it hurts a lot already as it is.

“Ssh, it’s going to be okay,” Mo Ran tries to say soothingly, briefly pausing to run a hand through Chu Wanning’s hair, “Does it hurt a lot?”

Only silence answers him as Chu Wanning remains unconscious, but Mo Ran keeps talking, “I’m sorry—shizun’s sorry. Please endure it a bit longer, okay?”

—

A deep but soft and soothing murmuring voice gently cuts through Chu Wanning’s syrupy consciousness, the tone foreign to him yet not unwelcome. A more distressed sounding and higher-pitched voice follows after. Sluggishly, he slowly tries to open his eyes despite the heaviness fighting him. The uncomfortable mix of a scalding yet freezing sensation running through his back causes him to shiver slightly.

A lone and low, dim candlelight in the darkness greets him as he opens his eyes. As he follows its direction, he finds the owner of the first voice as well. His shizun is sitting right beside a bed that was directly next to where Chu Wanning was, positioned in a way that he can see his shizun face even with only a dim light.

Belatedly, he realizes that was the bed his shixiong had been placed earlier, which makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why Chu Wanning is somehow on the bed next to it. Before he can try to dig through his mind, he sees Mo Ran lay a hand over his shixiong’s forehead. The man murmurs something Chu Wanning can’t decipher, though the soft tone is quite unmistakably comforting and warm. The gentle, indulgent smile that comes after only reaffirms it.

Not for the first time, Chu Wanning curiously wonders what that would be like. Perhaps it’s the heaviness of his limbs and the hot and cold sensation painfully wracking through his body that weakens him in this moment to do more than just consider it with a passing thought.

Maybe if he closed his eyes and thought back hard enough, he’d be able to remember what the feeling of that comforting touch feels like. Shizun had done the same for him once, if rather briefly, the gesture seeming more instinctive than intentional. He regrets feeling too confused to do anything other than staying still, instead of appreciating it at that moment.

The soft, soothing voice makes Chu Wanning think of how he’s seen parents, siblings or friends comfort their distressed loved one. For his shizun to use that same tone, there’s no doubt that he truly cares about his beloved disciples very much. An audacious, shameless part of him whispers that maybe, if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that warm tone is for him, too.

Yet for all those thoughts, he finds that he can’t look away at the soft expression on the man’s face, highlighted further by the candlelit dark room. It’s amazing how gentle and affable his shizun’s expression can get, though he is a man of considerable build and size. It doesn’t surprise Chu Wanning though; of course someone who was considerate enough to help earthworms return home after the rain can make such a kind expression too.

A part of him that he can normally slam down hard enough to mostly ignore pushes past against his defenses and mocks him. It wasn’t that the temple and its master was cold and strict after all, but rather its ward was just undeserving of warmth and indulgence. And again, not for the first time, he wonders within the sanctuary of his mind what was so unlovable about him. To have had two masters, only to be twice as unwanted.

Mo Ran’s eyes are dark, looking almost purple in the low light, his gaze almost seemingly unthinkingly raising and accidentally looking straight into Chu Wanning’s half-lidded gaze. Immediately, he feels his heart beat twice as fast, his chest burning in reaction.

Almost unthinkingly, Chu Wanning immediately closes his eyes shut, hoping his eyes were barely open for his shizun to notice his staring. It would be embarrassing if his shizun did notice, not to mention the man might feel compelled to check on him if he realized Chu Wanning was awake and shamelessly watching them. There’s a faint sound of shuffling, but as soon as Chu Wanning closed his eyes, the weight and heat of his fever soon enveloped him back into unconsciousness.

The next time Chu Wanning wakes, it’s to the soothing feeling of a cool, damp cloth making contact with his forehead. Near absolute darkness greets him even when he opens his heavy eyes. He can barely see the outline of the figure placing it over him.

Though he can’t be entirely sure, Chu Wanning presumes it to be his shizun judging by the hand’s size. Surprise at the realization causes his heart to leap, feeling a tentative warmth spread in his chest soon after. Though utter confusion trails after it just as quick. It only doubles when a blanket over him is pulled up to his chin to cover him entirely when his body involuntarily shudders as a sudden chill wracks achingly through his back.

Chu Wanning hears a few quiet soothing noises, feeling a hand smooth the blanket over before a quiet, almost whisper-like voice says, “Shh, it’s okay, you’re warm now. You’ll be okay.”

It’s that same tone again, the reminder of the memory from earlier ringing clearly and loudly like a bell. Chu Wanning doesn’t know how long it’s been since then, but it’s quite obvious that his shizun must have gone and then returned to this dark, unlit room and mistaken his bed for the one next to his.

He so desperately wants to just shut up and let this moment pass, maybe even selfishly revel in it a little bit. And it would be embarrassing for the both of them if he spoke up and pointed out his shizun’s small oversight. He should just stay quiet and save them both the trouble.

But as the moment passes, he can’t help but feel unintentionally deceitful. The person his shizun intended to be the recipient of this caretaking should receive it. Chu Wanning shouldn’t be shamelessly leeching off of it like this, like a parasitic bird taking what’s meant for the actual brood.

Not to mention, his shizun is already very displeased with him for today, failing to protect his shixiong. What if his shizun finds out he’s actually been unknowingly caring or comforting the person responsible for this mess in the first place, and that Chu Wanning had been awake too?

—

“Shizun?” A soft, raspy, whisper startles Mo Ran from where he’s been absent-mindedly rubbing a comforting hand over Chu Wanning’s blanketed arm. He almost thinks it was just his imagination, were it not for the hand reaching out of the blanket, the back of it pushing lightly against his hand to stop him.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Mo Ran unthinkingly says in a normal volume, which is a bit too loud in the dead quiet of the night, and continues in a quieter, “How are you feeling?”

Silence greets Mo Ran’s words, and he wonders whether Chu Wanning fell asleep again. Just like earlier, when the boy had been briefly conscious, only to fall right back asleep as soon as Mo Ran reached his bedside. He couldn’t help but rue bitterly the unfortunate timing.

He had been by the boy’s side the entire time, waiting for him to wake to check on him as well as feed him medicine. But then he regained consciousness the moment Mo Ran left for a bit to check on A-Qiang, who had seemed to have woken up from a nightmare about today’s events.

Mo Ran lights a single candle nearby, and sees Chu Wanning’s half-lidded, bright eyes widen slightly as he stares back at Mo Ran. Said eyes blink rapidly, before flicking away from Mo Ran to stare presumably at the floor.

“...‘was gonna tell shizun,” Chu Wanning mumbles, a bit incoherently.

“Tell me what?” Mo Ran asks as he reaches out and replaces the damp cloth with his hand, feeling his heart twinge at the bright, sleepy eyes that look up to follow the movement.

“Shixiong’s on the other bed,” Chu Wanning closes his eyes as he draws the blanket over himself in a way that covers half his face and his entire body. The movement dislodges Mo Ran’s hand off his forehead.

The dismissal is obvious in the boy’s tone and body language. Or rather, instead of dismissal, he truly expected the conversation to end there. As if he wholly expected Mo Ran to just…get up or lose interest in him after his declaration. The realization hurts—unsurprisingly so. But it doesn’t just sting. It pierces right through his chest and twists agonizingly, lighting every nerve in his body with aching pain. And that…that’s surprising.

Rationally, Mo Ran knows that Chu Wanning’s reaction makes sense. That of course this boy that he had neglected to ask after, to even notice was hurt, would think of him this way. That the idea of Mo Ran getting the wrong bed, the wrong disciple, is somehow more plausible.

The boy’s words weren’t even accusing or sullen. If anything, the boy sounded embarrassed—shy, even. The tiny hint of a lone eye peeking open to look at Mo Ran only supplements it. Oh. It’s somehow simultaneously heartwrenching yet adorable. Especially with the way Chu Wanning squeezes his eyes back shut when he sees Mo Ran still staring.

“Mm, I know,” Mo Ran says uselessly, swallowing back against the tightness in his throat, “But I’m asking you how you’re feeling, Wanning.”

Even in this dim light, Chu Wanning visibly stills at his words, before opening his eyes, reluctance obvious in the tentativeness of his movement, “I’m fine.”

It’s deeply worrying, how Mo Ran would have once so easily believed that, if he hadn’t witnessed Chu Wanning’s state just a few hours prior. If he hadn’t been the one to panickedly carry his disciple’s unconscious, bloodstained form through Sisheng Peak in the dead of night. If he hadn’t been the one to clean his disciple’s wounds—if he hadn’t just seen the purple and yellow bruising most of his disciple’s back.

It would have been convincing, if he hadn’t just seen Chu Wanning shudder and curl in on himself further, trembling just the smallest bit to betray his discomfort. If the sight of it hadn’t just caused his chest to constrict painfully at the hint of his disciple’s pain that he couldn’t take away. It’s a strange, restless thing, feeling helpless in the face of the only time he’s seen Chu Wanning display obvious distress and being utterly unable to do anything to rectify it.

“You’re definitely not fine,” Mo Ran huffs lightly in disbelief, “Do you really think I’m gonna believe you’re okay when you’re still so feverish I can feel the heat emanating off you?”

Chu Wanning narrows his eyes at Mo Ran’s words, looking visibly displeased, “It’s only a fever.”

Disbelief and exasperation with just an edge of hysteria crawls at the back of his throat. Seriously, this kid.

“It’s not only a fever,” Mo Ran harshly whispers, remembering how he found the boy, and the terrifying limbo state of not knowing whether his injuries were fatal or not, “You were poisoned just a few hours ago.”

“It wasn’t lethal,” Chu Wanning says as if that somehow makes it okay for him to have been poisoned. 

“Tanlang said the venom was meant to immobilize the victim with numbness, turning into pain the more there was,” Mo Ran recalls the healer’s words, seared unintentionally accusingly into his heart and mind, “A-Qiang only had one sting wound, and he passed out from that.”

Tanlang had an almost impressed tone when he had described the concentration of venom in Chu Wanning’s system, ‘I’m very surprised he was even conscious, much less able to move.’

Yet all Mo Ran could think of at that moment was when he saw his two disciples, and how he had presumed that Chu Wanning was uninjured, as flawlessly untouchable as usual. Leaving his poor, inexperienced shixiong to suffer the brunt of that greenness.

He feels his eyes sting with heat unbiddenly, imagining once more how it would have been like for Chu Wanning. Walking on a twisted ankle, fighting off the effects of a paralyzing venom, while simultaneously carrying another person on his back trying to get back home.

Mo Ran remembers Chu Wanning’s expression, when he had only read surprise during the moment, he now realizes there had been relief in it too. Relief at the sight of Mo Ran. Only to be unduly blamed and then left behind after to fend for himself.

The words are whispered so quietly that Mo Ran almost doesn’t hear it, belatedly registering and parsing them, “I’m sorry…”

And oh, but does this disciple of his have a way with breaking Mo Ran’s heart into tiny little pathetic pieces with just a few words.

“I didn’t…I mean—I…” Chu Wanning uncharacteristically stammers, nervous and contrite, “I tried to protect shixiong…but I failed, and–and he got really hurt…”

Chu Wanning trails off abruptly, body visibly taut and tense, his eyes glassy and unable to look at Mo Ran directly. He looks apprehensive yet defeated. Making no more sound after his initial outburst.

“No! I…I didn’t say that to blame you—” Mo Ran hoarsely says past the tightness in his throat, reaching out once more to put a hand over the boy’s forehead, almost thinking of pulling away when he’s met with a flinch.

“I know it’s my fault,” Chu Wanning interjects and shakes his head briefly as he continues with, “I won’t let anyone go with me again, promise.”

Guilt and fear curdle together unbearably in Mo Ran’s gut at the words. If it wasn’t for today, Mo Ran would have never seen the evidence of past injuries curiously, sickeningly littering his disciple’s body. Ones that would have once healed unnoticed and unknown by anyone else except for Chu Wanning himself.

“I’m sorry—shizun’s so sorry. It’s not your fault, none of it is,” Mo Ran’s breath hitches as he speaks, “I don’t blame you, and your shixiong doesn’t blame you either.”

Judging by the way Chu Wanning is struggling to keep his eyes open, Mo Ran knows they’ll likely need to rehash this conversation again. And next time, he needs to know what to say and how to say it.

“Ssh, rest for now,” Mo Ran sweeps a light thumb over the boy’s still hot forehead, “Shizun will stay right beside you, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Mo Ran submerges the cloth in cool water and dries it slightly with a squeeze, before placing it back over Chu Wanning’s forehead. The boy lets out a small, almost inaudible hum, his body untensing ever so slightly.

Once again, Mo Ran is left with only the silence, his thoughts and the rest of the night. As the candle slowly burns away, Mo Ran can’t help but repeat what just happened over and over again in his mind. Perhaps it’s him looking into something that isn’t there, yet he can’t help but wonder anyway. Is it accidental or intentional, the way Chu Wanning is so easily dismissive of himself and his own well-being that it’s almost unnoticeable?

Chu Wanning downplayed or ignored his own injuries and pain every time Mo Ran had tried to ask about it. Not to mention that seemingly innocent promise of not letting anyone go with him again. Mo Ran knows it must be due to his unthinking, accusing words, ‘How could you let him come with you?’

It must be the way their conversation went, but something about it unsettled him deeply. Like there was somehow an implication that Chu Wanning thought it was okay if he got hurt alone, so long as nobody else was.

Just earlier, he had praised his other disciples in his mind, thinking how thoughtful it was for A-Qiang to think of Chu Wanning despite being the one injured on the bed. How forgiving it was of A-Yun to notice Chu Wanning despite their prior unpleasant interaction just recently. Yet how unfairly uncharitably he had thought of Chu Wanning just on this same day.

This child who at the very most, only whimpered briefly the one time when Mo Ran had accidentally dislodged his swollen, twisted ankle to express his pain. The very same boy who carried his unconscious shixiong back home in spite of his own injuries, with the head healer himself remarking how miraculous it is for someone to be able to stay conscious, much less even move through the paralyzing, toxic pain wreaking havoc in his body. Even finding the willpower past that to check on the person he saved one last time, before leaving quietly and unnoticed, with only undue blame instead of gratitude to accompany him.

It must have hurt a lot, right? Not only the physical injuries…Chu Wanning must have felt so alone and unseen. Yet even delirious and exhausted from fever, the most he let his guard slip was a few shudders from the fever, and to clumsily apologize for failing to protect his shixiong.

Mo Ran can’t help but think back on their interactions before, of every time he had tried to be kind or nice to the boy, only to be met with a blank look that he inferred to be disdain or arrogance. Some of Mo Ran’s disciples treated his kindness with suspicion or distrust initially, but Mo Ran was familiar with that, having had the same reaction himself when he was younger.

But Chu Wanning reacted to kindness with incomprehension, as if he didn't quite understand it. Not even in the sense that he didn’t know how to react to it, but rather, he doesn’t recognize it’s directed at him. Simple little things, like the peaches Mo Ran had peeled, or back in Dawning Peak with the toys, and now. As if so unexpecting of kindness towards himself that even when he recognizes it, he rationalizes it as being for someone else.