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“Lan Zhan, liquor in this ‘modern’ time is so bland,” Wei WuXian complains, but takes a sip of gin anyway. He is holding a cocktail glass in between his fingers, unconsciously swaying it slightly from side to side, and the ice cubes in the glass clink. Every clink and clank are absurdly loud, echoing in the room like bells. “But no matter where we go, Emperor’s Smile doesn’t exist anymore. Isn’t it sad?”
They are in a no-name bar, somewhere and sometime they don’t know. It’s a sad place, quieter than silence, and they are only accompanied by the sleepy bartender, who continually wipes the table ever since half an hour ago. There isn’t anyone around. The clock, whether broken or not, shows that its short hand points at number two, and its long one at twelve. Faintly and occasionally, apart from the tinkle of ice cubes and the tick-tocking of the clock needle, the sound of chirping grasshoppers makes the already grim atmosphere even more melancholic.
Lan WangJi’s glass is still full. The ice cubes have become smaller and smaller. He’s too fixated in seeing them floating that he doesn’t reply to Wei WuXian’s remark, not even with his typical, usual ‘mn’.
“Not only that it tastes mediocre, it’s also expensive,” Wei WuXian continues his grumble. “Hey, drink it. It’s not so strong.” He says every word, every syllable in a caught whisper, as if he’s afraid that someone would hear, even if the bartender is quick asleep and they are the only lively ones in the late night. Lan WangJi brings the glass to his lips, and drinks slowly. He closes his eyes as he swallows, drinking in small portions, but before he could finish it, he pulls back to cough. For a second, he cringes, surprising Wei WuXian to see him this expressive.
“What’s wrong, Lan Zhan?”
“I do not like it.”
“But you’ve managed to gulp down more than a half,” Wei WuXian laughs. “Never mind. I told you that this isn’t the suitable era for us. So, why don’t we go back now? Everyone in the Cloud Recesses must be worried sick.”
“No,” Lan WangJi persists. “We haven’t—travelled enough.”
“We have,” Wei WuXian says, and then downs the rest of his gin. “Have you heard? There is a legend around about us already. That anyone who sees a couple in traditional clothes walking around will have good luck or something. Too bad for them, we’ve managed to adapt to more in-fashion clothing instead. Even if it’s mad uncomfortable. Hey, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan?”
Lan WangJi has fallen asleep. Wei WuXian smiles. It doesn’t matter in the past or future; Lan WangJi is still the same person. Even if the gin isn’t so strong, of course he would still drop off into slumber as soon as the liquid passes his throat. He’s sleeping with his cheek rested on his fist, elbow on the table and eyes still fluttering lightly. It’s a funny view, and Wei WuXian doesn’t hold back a chuckle. He decides to tease him a bit, pressing a finger on Lan WangJi’s cheek, immediately becoming delighted when his eyebrows twitch.
Wei WuXian drags Lan WangJi out, and begins to wander for a motel. It’s rather difficult to walk with a burden in his arms. Lan WangJi sleeps soundlessly like a log. Wei WuXian walks in heavy steps, but after a few minutes, he sees a huge neon sign, purple and blinking in big, bold fonts, “MOTEL”. Under it is a pink, glowing arrow pointing to an alley.
The motel receptionist looks mildly surprised to see that they have visitors, and more baffled to see Lan WangJi. She eyes Wei WuXian when he scrambles through Lan WangJi’s pocket to reach for his purse. “How much for a night?” he asks.
“It depends on which type of room.”
“Oh, right,” Wei WuXian remembers now, that in this time, inns have different types of room. There is the cheap one that smells like camphor and dust, or the pricier one with whitewashed bedsheets and the scent of liquid floor cleaner. They even classify their rooms according to the size and number of bed. “The one with king-sized bed, er, queen—which one is bigger again?”
“We have no king or queen-sized bed, sir. Just single beds.”
“Then, is there a room with two beds?”
“Certainly.”
Wei WuXian feels lucky that the motel has a lift, which the science behind he can’t comprehend; not that he cares, because he finds them incredibly useful. When he first comes across an elevator, he got culture-shocked, and somehow got locked inside because he messed with the buttons.
Silently laughing at himself for that, he takes off Lan WangJi’s sandals and carefully puts him down on the bed as soon as they arrive at the room. He pushes one bed so that it joins with the other one. Wei WuXian lies down too, exhausted and sleepy. Half of his body is on the middle of the conjoined bed, which gives him discomfort, but he doesn’t mind, as long as Lan WangJi is next to him. That’s enough.
“Lan Zhan, tomorrow, we’ll go back, all right?” Wei WuXian says, shaking Lan WangJi’s body gently. Lan WangJi is already wide awake, eyes bloodshot, but empty. He glances at Wei WuXian. Suddenly, he elbows the mattress and sits up, pulling Wei WuXian with him.
Wei WuXian is perplexed, but does what Lan WangJi wants. When they are both seated, and they are facing each other, Wei WuXian realizes the strange, not-supposed-to-be-there look on Lan WangJi’s light eyes.
It’s almost a sad look. His eyes are slightly drooped, eyebrows knitted and, Wei WuXian is surprised to find himself noticing, Lan WangJi’s lips are trembling. Lan WangJi isn’t really the emotional type of drunk, so something must be up. He’s not the most vocal either when he’s intoxicated, which makes it harder for Wei WuXian to figure out what is wrong.
“Lan Zhan, are you okay? Was it something I said?”
No answer. So Wei WuXian, positive that it really was something he said, makes it up by hugging him. He softly brushes his hair, until Lan WangJi speaks, in a low voice, “I want to know.”
“Know, what?”
“If we are still bound to be together.”
Lan WangJi is speaking in broken sentences. Realizing this, Wei WuXian continues to ask, “if we are still bound to be together?”
“In the future.”
Silenced and speechless, Wei WuXian even stops his hand from caressing Lan WangJi’s hair. “But we’ve seen, right?” he whispers in his ear, talking slowly so that Lan WangJi is able to process the words. “We are in the future. And we are together.”
Lan WangJi tilted his head and lays it on Wei WuXian’s shoulder. “Mn.”
“Even after we die, I’m certain that we will meet each other again, at any given universe.”
“Mn.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian says, kissing Lan WangJi on the top of his head, tenderly and with uninhibited affection. “Love knows no time.”