If he was thinking clearly then he'd know that. Lan Zhan had his golden core. The very thing that helped a cultivator get better. He, himself, didn't have his. His resided in his brother's chest. Which makes him wonder what had happened, but he's too out of it to think much on that.
"So, my Apple is fine then... Good," he murmurs patting his husband's chest. "That's good." A few days. Three days then. Or a little less. He was not going to try and calculate that.
He groans at the feel of the healers checking him over. He'd fight it, he wants to, but he also doesn't have the drive to really fight it either. Though, that's not to say he doesn't go to move and not wince. He'd forgotten how raw his wrists were from the reigns on Apple.
"Your Lil' Apple is fine," he reassures Wei Ying, then steps back, trusting the healer to actually do their job, although he hovers nearby, waiting for instruction.
"A bad fever," the healer says, "but his lungs are clear." Then it's a list of instructions, how to brew teas and what salve to put on his wrists, how to get him cool, what else to do, signs to look for in case he got worse.
"I'll have the kitchens send congee for your husband, Hanguang-jun," the healer says, as she packs her bag. "If he gets worse, let us know."
That would involve needles, Lan Zhan knew, and something Wei Ying didn't want. He could use that as leverage, if necessary, to keep Wei Ying in bed.
Last thing that he needed was for Lil' Apple to be hurt or anything like that. Had his donkey even ate anything getting him home? Drank anything? Taken care of... well, itself. Silly donkey. They could've waited. He's glad they didn't, but they could've.
"... Worse? Why would I get worse?" It's muttered even as he pushes himself up a bit, but the motion alone has the room spinning and he lays back down. No spinning rooms. Not tonight. Not for him.
The concern over the donkey amuses Lan Zhan, although he knows where it's coming from.
He listens to the healers, gently pushing Wei Ying back to bed, and doesn't see the healer and her assistant out; no one seems to expect that. He sends a brief message to his uncle and Sizhui to inform them he will be absent from his duties for a while until Wei Ying was healthy enough that he wouldn't need constant tending. Correspondence he could still handle, although any meetings would be delayed.
That done, he settles on the bed next to Wei Ying, brushing his hair back from his face. "Wei Ying."
There's a bit of a pout when he's pushed back onto the bed. He'd of gotten there on his own, after a time. He barely even hears what the healers are telling his husband. There was just way too much information to take in. Normally, that wasn't a problem. Right now? It was a big problem.
Those grey eyes look up towards golden and he gives a soft smile, even if he felt like crap. "Lan Zhan." Then, as an afterthought," I didn't mean to get sick on you."
"I know you did not, Wei Ying." He smoothes his hair back, leaning forward to his forehead. Lan Zhan isn't too worried about catching sick himself— his golden core will burn through anything quickly if he does catch a cold.
"Rest, Wei Ying. You need it. And next time, when you are sick, inform me so I do not have to rely on your donkey to get you home." He knows why Wei Ying wouldn't tell him, and why he'd intended to be gone longer; Wei Ying hates to worry him. But this still worries him.
It was one of the reasons that he'd intended to stay gone longer. That way he could get better before he came home. Only, it hadn't worked out that way. He'd just ended up getting sick anyway.
"How does that happen, Lan Zhan? I'm pretty sure that means I'm broken."
He's pretty sure that he's not making any lick of sense to his husband, but at the moment... he didn't care. Jiang Cheng should've never been able to get sick. Not like that, anyway. Though, grey eyes look into golden at that question.
"Wei Ying." He straightens up, a concerned look on his face, and replaces his hand with a cool cloth, tucking him a little tighter into the blankets. "You are not broken. Wei Ying is perfect as he is."
The healer had said she would send someone with congee, which will take a little longer, so he doesn't get up yet, but Lan Zhan does reach for the cup of tea the healer brewed for him, shifting so he can slide an arm under Wei Ying, helping him sit up a little.
"There will be food soon. For now, this will help." He brings the cup to his mouth, slowly tipping so Wei Ying can drink a little.
"Then why did he get sick? He shouldn't of gotten sick."
Or, at the very least, he shouldn't of gotten sick that badly. It shouldn't of taken that long for his golden core to heal him. So, why had it? That had to mean that he, himself, was broken. Not perfect like his husband seemed to think.
There's a groan at the sitting up, but he leans into Lan Zhan and drinks a little of the tea.
"I am unsure how he came down ill, but it is no matter." Lan Zhan hums quietly, helping Wei Ying sit up and drink, making sure he stays stable and doesn't spill it all over. "Wei Ying is still perfect."
Once the tea is mostly gone, he sets the cup down by the bed, and rather than moving away from Wei Ying, pulls him in a little closer, pressing his lips to the top of his head. "You should sleep, Wei Ying. I will be here."
"Lan Zhan is blind. This one is not perfect," he mutters, leaning against his husband as he drinks the tea. He can't drink all of it. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he really wasn't feeling that good. He really hated this feeling. It shouldn't of happened.
There's a soft hum out of him," Lan Zhan..." He's not entirely sure what he'd meant to say, but he presses as close as he can to the other man and that warmth.
"He is," Lan Zhan says, setting the cup aside when he can no longer drink, frowning slightly over how much of the tea is left. At least he drank some of it, and it's a little liquid in him.
He curls his arms around Wei Ying, pulling him close, although he reaches for the blankets to tuck a little better around him. "You should sleep now, Wei Ying. I will be here."
He could sit there and argue with his husband that he wasn't perfect, but he doubted that it would go far. On top of that? He really didn't want to get into an argument that Lan Zhan would win. His husband would definitely win that one.
There's a soft hum out of Wei Ying even as he presses closer, not that he can get any closer, but he nods letting his eyes close as he soaks up the warmth of his husband and those blankets," Okay. Don't go anywhere, Lan Zhan. Need you right here."
"As long as you need me, I will be here." He frowns slightly, pushing back some of Wei Ying's hair, pressing his wrist to his forehead. While Wei Ying does feel cooler, it's still a concern of his — he doesn't want Wei Ying to overheat and he wants to monitor the state of his fever.
He hums their song softly, running a hand up and down Wei Ying's back, over the blankets.
Wei Ying might feel cool to Lan Zhan, but to the sleeping demonic cultivator? The whole room, including himself, is hot and cold at the same time. It was why he'd tried to get as close to his husband as possible. So, when he does wake up again it's about an hour or two later, almost three.
It's to feeling overly hot and he's not sure what else, but he does everything he can to try and untangle himself from the blankets, probably even Lan Zhan's hold.
It's nearly two hours later, and Lan Zhan had been considering sliding out of bed to let his husband rest more when Wei Ying stirs. He lets Wei Ying pull away, gently pulling the blankets away as Wei Ying fights to untangle himself.
"Wei Ying?" he asks, reaching out to feel his husband's head. "How do you feel?"
Wei Ying is not in the mood to fight with anything, much less blankets. Except that those blankets are suddenly gone and there's suddenly a hand near his forehead. A hand that he nearly knocks the hell away from himself, until he realizes who it is. His mind really needed to stop that.
A vague frown crosses Lan Zhan's face when Wei Ying bats his hands away and at his response, and then he shifts, climbing off the bed. "I will make you more tea," he says, leaning down to press a kiss to Wei Ying's forehead, sweeping the blankets away. "Stay here, I will return."
The tea is the only thing he can think of, for the moment; the healers promised it would help, and he has to trust that. He returns shortly with a new cup, steam curling from the surface.
"Where would I go?" Stay there. If he so much as even tried to get up he's pretty sure he'd hit the floor. He was not in the mood to make friends with the floor. The bed was far better than that hard floor anyway. It kept him nice and warm. So, while Lan Zhan goes off to get tea he starts counting to himself. Something to combat the silence and not really meaning anything.
He watches his husband for a moment," That is hot." Whether he meant the tea or Lan Zhan was a whole other story.
"Wei Ying has been known to wander indiscriminately," Lan Zhan says, easily overhearing him talking. When he hands Wei Ying the tea, sitting on the edge of the bed so he can assist with him drinking it, he does look at Wei Ying, raising an eyebrow. "It is hot, blow on it."
"Wei Ying has not been to known to... what?" He asks making a bit of a face in his husband's direction. "Lan Zhan, I am not getting into a battle with the floor. He's very dangerous right now." For some odd reason hearing his husband tell him that it was hot, to blow on it, gets a bit of a laugh out of him," Yes, Lan Zhan, it's hot. So are you, you know."
The jokes, for Wei Ying, were more to keep his mind off of being sick. Or the fact that the room would not sit still long enough. The room, right now, was his enemy. "I do not wish to fight the floor, Lan Zhan. Bichen or Suibian can fight the floor. I will not." Or maybe even Chenqing would fight the... No, no need to see what would rise out from under the floor.
He gives a soft hum before focusing on the tea and drinking it, keeping a firm hold of the cup as he did not want to drop it. "Will Lan Zhan play something while I do?"
"I would prefer nothing take on the floor," Lan Zhan says, drily amused. "The floor should remain intact." He would much prefer that.
Pressing a hand to Wei Ying's forehead, then leaning in to kiss his forehead and cheek, Lan Zhan rises from the edge of the bed, walking over to his guqin and settling in his usual seat. "Any requests?"
"The floor will never be intact," Wei Ying points out with a smirk. "It slides open. Someone could hurt themselves, Lan Zhan." He knows good and well that wasn't what his husband meant, though.
He relishes in the cool touch of his husband, watching the man as he walked over to the guqin. "Our song?" He didn't care what the other played, just as long as he heard it.
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"So, my Apple is fine then... Good," he murmurs patting his husband's chest. "That's good." A few days. Three days then. Or a little less. He was not going to try and calculate that.
He groans at the feel of the healers checking him over. He'd fight it, he wants to, but he also doesn't have the drive to really fight it either. Though, that's not to say he doesn't go to move and not wince. He'd forgotten how raw his wrists were from the reigns on Apple.
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"A bad fever," the healer says, "but his lungs are clear." Then it's a list of instructions, how to brew teas and what salve to put on his wrists, how to get him cool, what else to do, signs to look for in case he got worse.
"I'll have the kitchens send congee for your husband, Hanguang-jun," the healer says, as she packs her bag. "If he gets worse, let us know."
That would involve needles, Lan Zhan knew, and something Wei Ying didn't want. He could use that as leverage, if necessary, to keep Wei Ying in bed.
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Last thing that he needed was for Lil' Apple to be hurt or anything like that. Had his donkey even ate anything getting him home? Drank anything? Taken care of... well, itself. Silly donkey. They could've waited. He's glad they didn't, but they could've.
"... Worse? Why would I get worse?" It's muttered even as he pushes himself up a bit, but the motion alone has the room spinning and he lays back down. No spinning rooms. Not tonight. Not for him.
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He listens to the healers, gently pushing Wei Ying back to bed, and doesn't see the healer and her assistant out; no one seems to expect that. He sends a brief message to his uncle and Sizhui to inform them he will be absent from his duties for a while until Wei Ying was healthy enough that he wouldn't need constant tending. Correspondence he could still handle, although any meetings would be delayed.
That done, he settles on the bed next to Wei Ying, brushing his hair back from his face. "Wei Ying."
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There's a bit of a pout when he's pushed back onto the bed. He'd of gotten there on his own, after a time. He barely even hears what the healers are telling his husband. There was just way too much information to take in. Normally, that wasn't a problem. Right now? It was a big problem.
Those grey eyes look up towards golden and he gives a soft smile, even if he felt like crap. "Lan Zhan." Then, as an afterthought," I didn't mean to get sick on you."
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"Rest, Wei Ying. You need it. And next time, when you are sick, inform me so I do not have to rely on your donkey to get you home." He knows why Wei Ying wouldn't tell him, and why he'd intended to be gone longer; Wei Ying hates to worry him. But this still worries him.
"Can you eat?"
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It was one of the reasons that he'd intended to stay gone longer. That way he could get better before he came home. Only, it hadn't worked out that way. He'd just ended up getting sick anyway.
"How does that happen, Lan Zhan? I'm pretty sure that means I'm broken."
He's pretty sure that he's not making any lick of sense to his husband, but at the moment... he didn't care. Jiang Cheng should've never been able to get sick. Not like that, anyway. Though, grey eyes look into golden at that question.
"Don't know. Haven't tried."
When had he eaten last?
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The healer had said she would send someone with congee, which will take a little longer, so he doesn't get up yet, but Lan Zhan does reach for the cup of tea the healer brewed for him, shifting so he can slide an arm under Wei Ying, helping him sit up a little.
"There will be food soon. For now, this will help." He brings the cup to his mouth, slowly tipping so Wei Ying can drink a little.
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Or, at the very least, he shouldn't of gotten sick that badly. It shouldn't of taken that long for his golden core to heal him. So, why had it? That had to mean that he, himself, was broken. Not perfect like his husband seemed to think.
There's a groan at the sitting up, but he leans into Lan Zhan and drinks a little of the tea.
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Once the tea is mostly gone, he sets the cup down by the bed, and rather than moving away from Wei Ying, pulls him in a little closer, pressing his lips to the top of his head. "You should sleep, Wei Ying. I will be here."
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There's a soft hum out of him," Lan Zhan..." He's not entirely sure what he'd meant to say, but he presses as close as he can to the other man and that warmth.
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He curls his arms around Wei Ying, pulling him close, although he reaches for the blankets to tuck a little better around him. "You should sleep now, Wei Ying. I will be here."
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There's a soft hum out of Wei Ying even as he presses closer, not that he can get any closer, but he nods letting his eyes close as he soaks up the warmth of his husband and those blankets," Okay. Don't go anywhere, Lan Zhan. Need you right here."
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He hums their song softly, running a hand up and down Wei Ying's back, over the blankets.
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It's to feeling overly hot and he's not sure what else, but he does everything he can to try and untangle himself from the blankets, probably even Lan Zhan's hold.
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"Wei Ying?" he asks, reaching out to feel his husband's head. "How do you feel?"
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"Hot. Cold. Overheated."
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The tea is the only thing he can think of, for the moment; the healers promised it would help, and he has to trust that. He returns shortly with a new cup, steam curling from the surface.
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He watches his husband for a moment," That is hot." Whether he meant the tea or Lan Zhan was a whole other story.
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He listens to Wei Ying prattle on, somewhat relieved by that and his laughter; he can't be too sick if he can make jokes.
"Drink, Wei Ying. You need it. Then rest."
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He gives a soft hum before focusing on the tea and drinking it, keeping a firm hold of the cup as he did not want to drop it. "Will Lan Zhan play something while I do?"
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Pressing a hand to Wei Ying's forehead, then leaning in to kiss his forehead and cheek, Lan Zhan rises from the edge of the bed, walking over to his guqin and settling in his usual seat. "Any requests?"
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He relishes in the cool touch of his husband, watching the man as he walked over to the guqin. "Our song?" He didn't care what the other played, just as long as he heard it.
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