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There is a distinct scent of herbs embedded in the air of the Cloud Recesses, the bitter smell a result of the tea that the Gusulan sect has been brewing for hundreds of years. When he first studied there at 15, he had spat it out in Jiang Cheng's face. Now, Wei Wuxian lets the taste dissipate upon his tongue, careful to not let his sips ruffle the silence settled in the room.
Across from him, Lan Xichen studies a scroll intensely. It's a rough report of what Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have discovered around the perimeters of Gusu in their cultivation travels. Usually, such matters would be reported to Lan Qiren, however as luck would have it, the elder happened to be out on business in another town. It had been decided that Lan Xichen, as rightful leader and on the tail end of his two year self-imposed seclusion, should be slowly reintroduced to his duties. Similarly, due to Lan Wangji being slotted for teaching a class since their last visit, Wei Wuxian was the one sitting in the hanshi.
He clears his throat a little before speaking, "The only notable encounters were about a missing child and the unsettled spirits of landslide victims a few days ago. Nothing too complicated."
Xichen gives a slow nod before closing the scroll. He gives a smile, still stiff at the corners, but his eyes are clearer since Wei Wuxian last saw him.
"Thank you, Young Master Wei. I will see to organizing the appropriate people to finish the job."
Wei Wuxian nods and takes another sip. Silence descends again. It's still awkward, he notes. Two years of being married to the stoic Hanguang-jun, yet sitting in front of Lan Xichen for more than a minute with no business to speak of is uncomfortable. If the First Jade of Gusu feels the same, he doesn't show it.
Wei Wuxian counts to five seconds before he deems it appropriate for him to excuse himself. As he's about to politely make some commentary about finding his husband, a quiet echo of a familiar guqin trickles into the room. The skill of the player is recognizable even with the faintness of the sound. Wei Wuxian takes a few seconds to listen and piece together the notes that dance on the edge of his hearing.
"It is quite nostalgic hearing Wangji play Inquiry again."
Wei Wuxian gets startled when Lan Xichen speaks. He looks back from where he's unconsciously turned his head and sees the planes of Lan Xichen's lips smooth out to a gentler line. Wei Wuxian suddenly feels emboldened to converse.
"Zewu-jun, Inquiry is Gusulan's famous technique for conversing with the deceased. Lan Zhan plays it during most night hunts. Why do you find it nostalgic?"
Lan Xichen studies him for a few seconds, a searching gaze that's too reminiscent of a night long ago, and Wei Wuxian fears he's said something ignorant again. The Lan Sect Leader drops his gaze to the table with a little sigh.
"I fear Wangji has still not changed."
The statement is said lightly but Wei Wuxian still feels apprehension bubbling in his stomach. He's suddenly transported back two years to Guanyin temple, to the same heart aching realization of how ignorant he is towards Lan Wangji. Of what Lan Zhan did and sacrificed for him.
They have never spoken of the time Wei Wuxian was dead. Wei Ying isn't one to dwell on the past and doesn't want to open old wounds either (physically or emotionally). And Lan Wangji, being Lan Wangji, still barely speaks without being prompted. They've both come to an unspoken agreement to focus on their present and future together, living in contented bliss and putting past worries behind them. But suddenly, Wei Wuxian feels like he's been cheating.
For 13 years, he had been a spirit, aimless and weightless, phasing in and out of existence and thought. He had been, for lack of a better word, content. He had been the monster who killed those who cared about him. That was fine. In death, he would no longer wreck havoc on the earth. And he died badly enough, he thought. The scales were balanced. The whole experience was... lonely but he was a quiet spirit; loneliness was fleeting and nothing was everything.
But for 13 years, Lan Wangji had been alive. Wei Wuxian knows part of it was spent in seclusion, recovering from wounds Wei Ying still aches at seeing when they're in bed. But what of the other years?
Wei Wuxian knows now the intensity in which Lan Zhan loves him; feels it in the hand that's often wrapped around his waist, the feet that follow his every move, the eyes that soften at his words, and the mouth that blesses him with a smile so rare and radiant the gods would be jealous. Knows Lan Wangji had loved him, even before Wei Wuxian deserved it or loved him back. He can't fathom the depth of his husband's sincerity and can only hope his own is felt the same.
For 13 years, Lan Zhan thought he was dead. Mourned for him. What was that like? How much of that time was Lan Zhan still keeping to himself?
Wei Wuxian gulps, feeling the ghost of a zither string around his neck. He desperately wants to run again, into the arms of the one man who matters.
"Young Master Wei?"
Wei Wuxian startles out of his reverie and briefly, the room flickers to the temple on Lanling. Xichen is still in front of him. Suddenly, two years means nothing.
Shakily, he brings his cup to his lips.
"Sect Leader Lan, would you please tell me? What exactly did Lan Zhan do when I- while I was dead?"
"..."
"I’m afraid he would never bring it up and I couldn't ask him either."
---
By the time Lan Xichen finished his story, the sun had set and Wei Ying was restless. Classes were over and Hanguang-jun had headed back to rest, Sizhui had helpfully informed him when he stormed into the classroom. He called out a brief thanks before dashing off, Sizhui's warnings about running being prohibited lost to the wind. The path to the jingshi from the classroom had always been quick, purposefully done for ease of access to lectures. Wei Ying could navigate it blindfolded and drunk. Now, it seemed like it was much too far away.
Lan Xichen's voice played in his head as he flew across a wooden bridge.
"Did he ever tell you about the mark on his chest?"
"He said he had too much to drink..."
Wei Wuxian's heart clenched as he saw the jingshi in the distance.
"...After getting Sizhui settled, just barely recovered, he went on night hunts every day. He travelled farther than the Lan sect's territory, looking for all signs of demonic cultivation or spiritual activity. Wangji was always searching for you."
He wasted no time in slamming the door open. Sitting serenely behind the table with one hand poised holding a brush was Lan Wangji. He had already shed his outer robes and with impeccable posture, seemed to be in the midst of correcting his student's work. His forehead ribbon was still on his forehead, a stark streak of white against smooth ebony hair. Wei Wuxian's breath stuttered, both from his run and the beauty of his husband bathed in candlelight. Lan Wangji had simply turned his head, raising an eyebrow at the ruckus. Taking in Wei Wuxian's state, disheveled, panting and frantic, his eyes narrowed in concern.
"Wei Ying?"
"Every night he would play Inquiry, asking for you."
Wei Ying meets his husband's gaze and hears his own voice now, two years ago, teasing and hopeful.
"Lan Zhan, have you ever burned paper money for me?"
Slowly, he walks into the jingshi, barely present enough to remember to close the door, feeling golden eyes still trained on him. There is growing concern in them, and he feels guilty for worrying his husband again, but his words, his mind, can't piece together his emotions. His heart is heavy, too heavy and full for his body. He stops an arms length away, feeling his heartbeat calm down and a manic grin spread across his face, as Lan Wangji puts down his brush.
The concerned gaze changes into confusion and Lan Wangji reaches out to tug him closer, but Wei Wuxian is faster in leaping into his lap.
The force of the impact would be enough to send any man sprawling but Hanguang-jun simply huffs and instinctively wraps his arms around him. Wei Wuxian burrows his face into the other's neck and exclaims in his ear.
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"
"I'm here."
"I know. I know you're here. You're always here!"
"Mn."
Lan Wangji tightens his hold.
"But do you know?"
"Know what?"
Wei Wuxian clings harder, trying to press every inch of his body against his husband's.
"I'm here too."
"..."
"I'll always be here too."