[It isn’t mistrust, it is fear: Xie Bi’an never knew betrayal until recently, after all; its sting is still fresh. As long as he has Wujiu, the rest doesn’t matter. As long as he has Wujiu, he’ll grant Yiling’s patriarch his every wish, no matter how unreasonable or farfetched— paint the stars into his hair each morning, and tuck the sun between his fingers at dusk to sleep by.
Walk barefoot through these halls like one of the dead, though he knows already that’s not where his usefulness lies.]
Be gentle. [He urges softly, sweetly, letting broken weight drift into Wei Wuxian’s hands, their fingertips touching with devoted pressure as he folds the patriarch's grip into place.
The rest is all bodily movement. Steps just beside Wen Ning (handsome. striking even in death. had it been a wedding, too, when he was revived?) and lets sleepless, red-lined eyes fall only on Fan Wujiu's shrouded form, obscured for ceremony or modesty, or perhaps just to save Xie An's heir the pain of a second viewing.
How the world never saw value in him, Xie Bi’an never understood.]
no subject
Walk barefoot through these halls like one of the dead, though he knows already that’s not where his usefulness lies.]
Be gentle. [He urges softly, sweetly, letting broken weight drift into Wei Wuxian’s hands, their fingertips touching with devoted pressure as he folds the patriarch's grip into place.
The rest is all bodily movement. Steps just beside Wen Ning (handsome. striking even in death. had it been a wedding, too, when he was revived?) and lets sleepless, red-lined eyes fall only on Fan Wujiu's shrouded form, obscured for ceremony or modesty, or perhaps just to save Xie An's heir the pain of a second viewing.
How the world never saw value in him, Xie Bi’an never understood.]
I’m here, Wujiu. I know I’m late— but I’m here.