Chapter 157 Warmth and Pain
When Lan Wangji carried Wei Wuxian back to the bedroom, the afternoon sun was slanting across the edge of the bed, casting a patch of warm light on the quilt. He carefully placed him on the bed, his movements so gentle as if he was afraid to disturb the fragile glass.
Wei Wuxian lay on his side, his brow still slightly furrowed, his chest rising and falling with labored breathing. The violent coughing fit had drained his already limited strength, leaving his fingertips a faint bluish-white hue. Lan Wangji sat beside the bed, taking his hand and gently caressing it, the warmth of his palm soothing the coldness.
"Does it still hurt?" he asked in a low voice, his fingertips brushing over the pale blue veins on Wei Wuxian's wrist, which were beating weakly and rapidly.
Wei Wuxian slowly opened his eyes, the corners of which were red from coughing. He shook his head, his voice as light as a feather, "Much better... just a little tired." He paused, looking at the dark circles under Lan Wangji's eyes. Suddenly, he reached out his hand, lightly touching the shadow with his fingertips. "You should go and rest for a while too. Staying by my side, what if you get too tired?"
Lan Wangji held his restless hand, placed it on his lips and kissed it softly: "It's okay." He stood up, poured a glass of warm water, and took out a few capsules from the medicine box, "It's time to take the medicine."
Wei Wuxian frowned subconsciously as he looked at the colorful pills. He had always been afraid of bitterness, but this time he didn't act like a spoiled brat like usual. He simply opened his mouth obediently and let Lan Wangji feed the pills into his mouth, swallowing them with warm water. He couldn't help but flinch as the bitter taste spread across his tongue. Lan Wangji handed him a candy at the right time, and the sweet orange flavor spread throughout his mouth, slightly suppressing the astringency.
"Senior Sister cooked this soup. I'll serve you a bowl when it's heated up later." Lan Wangji tucked the quilt in for him and his eyes fell on the white porcelain jar on the bedside table.
Wei Wuxian nodded, a tinge of nostalgia in his eyes. "Senior Sister's lotus root and pork rib soup still tastes the same as it did when I was little." He thought of the summers in Lotus Pier, when Jiang Yanli always loved standing in front of the stove, wearing a plain apron, stirring the casserole, the steam blurring her gentle features. Those days, simple as a bowl of clear soup, held the most reassuring warmth.
Lan Wangji listened quietly, his fingertips gently combing Wei Wuxian's sweat-soaked hair. He knew that although Wei Wuxian seemed carefree, his heart held many fragments of the past, fragments of laughter and tears, which now became the strength that kept him going.
The wind suddenly picked up outside the window, sweeping up a few fallen leaves and clacking against the glass. Wei Wuxian subconsciously huddled closer under the covers. Lan Wangji immediately stood up, closed the window, and turned up the heat in the room by two degrees.
"Did you catch a cold again?" When he came back, he saw Wei Wuxian covering his lower abdomen with his hands, his face turning even paler.
“A little…” Wei WuXian bit his lip, beads of cold sweat oozing down his forehead. “It’s an old problem, I’ll just have to bear with it.”
But Lan Wangji could clearly see the pain within that "endurance." He knew it was an old injury at work, like a nasty wound, tormented even more by rainy days or emotional upheavals. He leaned over, placed his palm on Wei Wuxian's abdomen, and slowly channeled a gentle stream of spiritual energy into him—this was the method Jun Wu had taught him; while it couldn't cure it, it could temporarily alleviate the pain.
Warm spiritual energy flowed slowly, and Wei Wuxian's tense body gradually relaxed. He leaned in Lan Wangji's arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, and suddenly felt that the sharp pain became blurred.
"Lan Zhan," he said in a muffled voice, "When I get better, shall we go to Lotus Pier again?"
“Okay.” Lan Wangji responded without hesitation, “When you can get out of bed, we’ll go and take Sizhui with us.”
“Hmm…” Wei Wuxian’s voice gradually trailed off, his eyelids growing heavier, “I still have to go see Senior Sister and Jiang Cheng…”
As he was talking, he fell asleep in Lan Wangji's arms, with a faint smile on his lips, as if he was dreaming of the beautiful scenery of Lotus Pier.
Lan Wangji held him tightly, motionless, afraid to disturb his sweet dreams. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains and fell onto Wei Wuxian's face, casting a soft halo on his pale skin. His long eyelashes cast a faint shadow beneath his eyelids, creating a heart-wrenching silence.
He looked down at the person in his arms, and suddenly an indescribable feeling welled up in his heart. There was heartache, there was relief, and there was also a hint of hidden fear. He was afraid that this brief period of peace was just an illusion, that one day when he woke up, the warmth in his arms would suddenly disappear.
But he quickly suppressed that fear. He would protect Wei Wuxian, and this family, like a rock, unwavering despite the wind and rain.
The white porcelain jar stood quietly on the bedside table, with a faint lotus fragrance overflowing from the mouth of the jar, mixed with the smell of medicine in the room, brewing a strange aroma - it was the smell of pain and warmth intertwined, the smell of suffering and hope coexisting, and the smell of their family supporting and protecting each other over the long years.
The wind outside the window gradually stopped, and the sunlight became brighter and brighter, shining through the glass onto the floor, casting two overlapping shadows, as gentle as a painting that will never fade.
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