Wei Wuxian's eyes widened to the size of saucers. His heart clenched, looking at his nephew.  How the hell could he have been so careless? Shit, shit. What an idiot he was. Shock painted the boy's face, each breath he drew was shaky.

Foolish. How utterly foolish Jin Rulan was. How many times did he want to be fooled? The rational part of his rain told him to think, to get his ass out of this mess, but the other screamed in defeat. After all, what did he have to lose? His whole live had been hell, anyway. Unbidden, the image of a smiling Lan Sizhui, a grinning Lan Jingyi and a blushing Ouyang Zizhen flashed in his mind. Them. His first friends, even if he'd never admit it. All thanks to Senior Wei. Wei-shushu. 

"Let. Him. Go." Wei Wuxian gritted out every word, fury emanating off him in waves. His dove-gray eyes, or rather, Mo Xuanyu's eyes, darkened to the point they were almost black. His eyes shot death at Jin Guangyao, and he looked feral. Involuntarily, he took a step forward.
The grip on Rulan tightened. To both their surprises, Jin Guangyao didn't cower this time.

"No. Another step closer, Wei Wuxian, and your beloved disciple's head might go rolling to the ground." Meng Yao's eyes hardened, and he perfectly embodied the essence of "I became insane, with long periods of horrible sanity," blood half-crusted on his face, streaked with dirt and grime, robes disheveled and loose. Mania glinted in his eyes, but an air of chaste composure overtook him, and even if he wasn't sane, his eyes dimmed with severity. Knowing Meng Yao, Lan Xichen knew he wouldn't do anything hasty. But did he, truly? His grip on the knife steadied, and he barely inched it away. Meng Yao's knuckles turned white. 

"I won't do anything," his voice reminded Lan Xichen of hot and drying coals, "if you don't move." Lan Xichen wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. Really? That was the best he could come up with? How in the name of Hell, had he come to trust this man? Unbidden, something whispered, love. But in truth, Lan Huan knew it was far simpler than that. He'd seen in this man something he'd lost, no, he'd seen in this man something he could protect, unlike his little brother. He'd yearned for family for so long that he'd thrown caution to the wind, and gave his trust to him easily, hoping that somehow, he'd be able to protect him, save him, the way he couldn't with Wangji. In reality, though, all he'd ever done, was cover up this vile man's tracks. He'd stood up for him, trusted him, believed in him, affirmed him. Just for the semblance of what he'd wished he and his brother would have. 

Stupid. Utterly stupid, and foolish. But at least...He thought back to another, far more muscular, far taller man who'd loathed the filthy, short cockroach in front of him now, at least he'd been real. Even if he'd the oddest ways of showing it. 活。 别怪自己。 The words played through Lan Huan's head, like a mantra. Somehow, it kept him calm, it kept him grounded. Knowing that at least one person he'd loved, other than Wangji, had truly cared. Even if the person was long dead and gone. 'I wish I was the one dead. ' "Jin Guangyao, " he gritted out, "Let young master Jin go. Take me instead , if you will."

Wangji's eyes widened, and he mouthed one thing. "No."

Sneering, something like hurt flashed in Meng Yao's eyes. "I'd never hurt Ge." As if to further prove his point, he loosened his grip on Jin Ling. Really? Why? Questions resounded in Lan Huan's head endlessly, but he knew that he'd never get the answers. His heart softened at his brother's voice, but his head plagued him with questions.

"He's. Not. Your. Ge." Lan Wangji's voice enunciated each word perfectly and fiercely, eyes flashing in anger. Staring at his brother, Lan Huan couldn't help swelling with pride, but somehow, dispirited. No, he was wistful. If only things had been slightly different. If only, this little brother of his had been slightly more open, if only he'd realised exactly how cared for him, cherished him. But if onlys were just that, if onlys. They'd never happen.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps reverberated across the temple. Muffled voices could be heard, signifying a large bunch. Meng Yao's heartbeat quickened, and his hands started trembling. Shit. Shit. No one was meant to be here! I'm certain I put up the darn wards. He turned to a grinning Wei Wuxian, who's only reply was, "Wards were meant to be broken."

Just when Meng Yao wasn't looking, Wei Wuxian had actually managed to take down the barrier, and Lan Wangji had sent for reinforcements earlier. If only Sect Leader Jin weren't so impatient, he'd have seen the blue and white flash of clouds earlier. Smirking, Wei Wuxian lit up a shimmering black talisman, and flicked it towards Jin Guangyao.

Dozens of ants crept up the older Jin, and he could feel himself slowly losing control of his body. "Yi...Ling....Laozu.....What the....hell....have you....done to....me?" 

Again, Wei Ying's dove-grey eyes darkened. This time, it was simmering with resentment, and he was livid. After all, he found no reason to be kind to him. He pulled a grotesque smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?" His voice dripped in derisive honey, and he shot daggers at the short toad before him, leaning forward to free his own nephew from the disgraced 'master'.

"Just what in the world happened?" Lan Qiren's droning, wheezing shout echoed across the room, and the face of a bewildered and angry Lan Qiren met with the sight of a dishevelled Chief Cultivator Jin, who was holding the air at knife point, partially frozen, with an unreadable expression, as well as his beloved eldest nephew he hadn't seen for days, with him being kidnapped and all. Great. Ah yes, and lest I forget, his most precious treasure, grasping Wei Wuxian, the tragic Yiling Laozu's hand, as if there was no tomorrow. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. 

 Blankly, he snapped his head back and forth, before managing, "What in the name of Hell just happened?"

Wei Ying's eyes gleamed mysteriously. Grinning, he freed his hand from his lover's grasp, flexed his slender fingers, and slivers of charcoal-grey shadows swarmed through his palms, gathering. Seeking his soulmate, his eyes softened before shutting. Bringing his palms to his chest, he summoned, and waves of resentful energy, unclean and impure drifted to him, like moths drawn to a flame. The Juniors watched on, transfixed, while Meng Yao looked on in disbelief. For once, even the rigid Old Master Lan was rendered speechless.

Furrowing his brow, he concentrated, and the misty, charcoal grey swathes folded into themselves, before blinding the temple with light.  

A/N: 1155 words! I'm so sorry for not updating this in awhile, but somehow, other ideas plagued me, and I was a little stuck writing this. Thank you so much for your patience!