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It was foolish, really.
Not only that, it was against the rules. Bringing alcohol into the Cloud Recesses was forbidden, as it was written--carved--into the face of the mountainside. And yet he had done so for the last thirteen years. On that day...
Of course, that wasn't the only reason for it to be foolish. It wasn't as though he intended to drink any, as each and every bottle was for him.
Thirteen years was a long time; a lonely time. Back then, he had hated the touch of another. The thought of physical contact was not necessarily disgusting but it was hardly inviting. Yet that man had always been far too familiar, far too content to place his hands where they were not welcome. But slowly, slowly, WangJi had learned to accept it. He had learned that not all touch was bad; was to be rejected. It was him who had taught him such a thing, it was ridiculous to think that someone so uncouth and unreserved could be the one to warm his soul in such a way...
There he went, thinking on the past again. Perhaps because it was nearly that day once more. WangJi's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked over the quiet courtyard. He would need to travel and fetch this year's bottle soon. Place it with the others. To wait...to wait until he returned.
After all, he would return eventually. The cultivator knew this in his heart. He wished it in his heart. That it would be in a time when he was still here; that they might cross paths again. That the pain and sorrow of that lifetime could be left behind and they could find themselves again. Find each other again.
"...Wei Ying..." WangJi's hand stopping on the guqin he had been slowly playing as his mind wandered. There was no answer to his Inquiry - not the answer that he desired for. A cold breeze picked up and he exhaled slowly, gaze shifting to the far distance. What...was this sudden tightness in his chest? His consciousness rushed back into him, having traveled far into the past to those happier days. On his feet, the feeling turned from distant fondness to concern when he saw the call for help.
He left immediately.
---
Thankfully he arrived in time to assist in stopping the demon hand briefly at the Mo family. It seemed almost a miracle, or perhaps a fantasy. When he had seen it. When he felt his heart stop in his chest. The way chills had coursed through his entire body as he stared down at the messy-haired boy at his feet; having just stopped the Lanling Jin boy from attacking the "lunatic" who was apparently defenseless. While there was a mild likeliness in the boy's facial features... Surely it was a mistake, surely he was overthinking things.
After all, the boy seemed not to know him more intimately...perhaps he was simply imposing wishful thinking thanks to earlier.
But then.....but then...that sound. The sound of that flute playing. It pierced his heart like a blade and stole his breath from his lips. Wangji wasn't entirely sure he recalled how quickly he had moved or when he arrived at that spot. He had stood, transfixed in his own way as the familiar flute sounds filled the air; the boy walking backwards into him with a light thump.
It was him. After all, it was that song of all songs? It couldn't possibly be anyone else. Emotion overwhelmed his heart, though Wangji ensured it didn't pass his lips. Not here, not in public. Not until he could do more, say things properly...
Which was why he had been more than happy to invite the boy to the Cloud Recesses. It had been amusing, to see Wei Ying's face, the look of over-dramatic pain at the thought of having to be in such a 'dreary' place again. It brought the faintest hints of a smile in his eyes, on his face, thinking about it again even now.
The cultivator looked to the floor where had hidden those special bottles. The ones that he bought every year. Every year of Wei Ying’s death.
It was foolish, but perhaps he would no longer need to be such a fool anymore.