Work Text:
10-
Wei WuXian meets Lan WangJi on his first night as a student of GusuLan, bumping into him by happenstance while vaulting over the sect’s least patrolled outpost.
This meeting is the first of what will be many, but neither of them know that yet. So, to Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi is not yet Lan WangJi: at the moment, Lan WangJi is only a boy who has caught Wei WuXian red handed with his legs straddling the Cloud Recesses’ border wall and jars of Emperor’s Smile cradled in his arms.
He is a towering youth dressed in white, the adolescent roundness of his features betraying the disapproving scowl and furrowed brow carved into his face. He does not laugh at Wei WuXian’s jokes. He does not smile as Wei WuXian tries to make him smile. When Wei WuXian offers him wine he ignores the obvious attempt at friendship and decides to unsheathe his blade and attack instead, displaying a skill in swordsmanship that keeps Wei WuXian, head disciple of YunmengJiang Sect, on his toes in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.
His steps are light and fluid, making only the lightest of shuffles against the wall’s curved tiling. The moonlight of the late hour poses as a backdrop that gives his already pale skin a faint glow, a shining beacon of white through strands of long, dark hair. It’s a distracting sight, especially in the middle of an impromptu fight atop a rooftop.
Holy, Wei WuXian’s mind supplies; a stray thought that’s instantly shooed away as he ducks to the floor, nearly beheaded by a nimble slice of a sword being wielded by someone Wei WuXian doesn’t yet know the name of.
Who even is this guy? Who would start a fight like this with such little incentive? Who does he think he is?
A quick observation made in the midst of battle: whoever this boy is, he’s unlike anyone Wei WuXian has met before.
(He also notes that whoever this boy is — he really — Wei WuXian really wants to — yeah.)
9-
“You’re being even more weird than usual,” Jiang Cheng observes, not for the first time today. He and Wei WuXian lounge together shoulder-to-shoulder at the base of a large tree behind the Cloud Recesses’ main lecture hall, its overhanging branches shrouding them both from the late afternoon sun.
They and Nie HuaiSang would normally be heading off to the dining hall at this hour. But today, Wei WuXian had grabbed Jiang Cheng by the collar and dragged him away, leaving Nie HuaiSang behind as they scurried back the way they came. Together, the two have been waiting at this spot ever since.
“And you’re being annoying,” Wei WuXian retorts, cuffing his shidi’s ear. While blocking Jiang Cheng’s subsequent slaps he adds, “You better not embarrass me.”
“Me embarrass you? How could —” But the rest of Jiang Cheng’s response is cut off, for Wei WuXian leaps to his feet as if possessed and, wildly waving his hands about, calls out, “WangJi-xiong!”
At that moment the very person Wei WuXian fought on the rooftops walks out of the lecture hall, footsteps just as graceful now as they had been in battle. Lan WangJi, second young master of GusuLan Sect, turns his gaze towards the sound of his name being called, only to find Wei WuXian beckoning frantically at him and Jiang Cheng staring up at Wei WuXian in confused disgust.
“Are you going to the dining hall for dinner? Let’s walk together!” Wei WuXian yells. He announces these words so loudly they ring in the ear of every cultivator in the Cloud Recesses.
Lan WangJi blankly appraises him for a moment before saying, “Excessive noise is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.” With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way opposite the dining hall.
Absolutely appalled at being an unwitting participant in such a wanton display, Jiang Cheng stands and pushes Wei WuXian away in embarrassment. But the push doesn’t faze Wei WuXian, who only watches Lan WangJi’s retreating figure with a smile on his face until the other boy turns a corner and vanishes from sight.
“Are you trying to shame our entire sect?” Jiang Cheng hisses accusingly. “You’re such a moron. Why are you so hellbent on making Lan WangJi hate you?”
Still Wei WuXian doesn’t give him the time of day, the smile on his face growing as he continues to stare at the corner Lan WangJi disappeared behind.
His cheerful voice concealing the mad thundering of his heart, Wei WuXian tells his shidi, “Oh, Jiang Cheng. You sweet, innocent child. Hopefully when you’re older, you’ll understand.”
8-
Never in his life has Wei WuXian experienced any feeling as profound as the thrill he gets whenever a disapproving glare or a defeated sigh of his own name is thrown his direction, unerringly given by a boy Wei WuXian has found to be supremely fun to tease.
The month they spend together in the Library Pavilion does nothing to quell the growing addiction Wei WuXian procures for Lan WangJi’s attention. Surely the reason must be in part by the spectacle this righteous young master becomes when he is so uncharacteristically angry, his pale eyes flashing as he challenges Wei WuXian to a duel.
“Over porn?” Wei WuXian exclaims, scandalized. “Second Young Master Lan, have propriety!”
He goes to grab the offending text, only for Lan WangJi to snatch it as well. A brief tug-of-war ensues. Their strength is evenly matched, and Wei WuXian spends the scuffle admiring the wrinkle between Lan WangJi’s eyebrows as he scowls at him. However, he quickly grows bored with their current stalemate — so he pushes as Lan WangJi pulls, causing the other to unwittingly drag him to his chest. Taken aback by the underhanded play, Lan WangJi loses his balance, and together, they topple to the floor.
For a moment, Wei WuXian takes time to listen to Lan WangJi’s heart beat under his ear. It’s booming and quick. He chuckles and lifts his head up to stare down at Lan WangJi, who is frozen underneath him. It takes another moment until Wei WuXian is able to peel his eyes away from how Lan WangJi’s splayed hair frames his face.
“How forward of you,” Wei WuXian says, his tone the smallest bit breathless. From the fall, of course.
His words somehow break the spell Lan WangJi is under, and he’s unceremoniously pushed off his chest.
“Get lost!”
Wei WuXian places a hand to his heart. “You dare tell me to get out after we’ve laid together? For shame! Take responsibility, Lan Zhan!”
Lan WangJi stands and makes to unsheathe his blade again, and Wei WuXian hurriedly gets up as well. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Lan Zhan, I must say: you really are giving me some mixed signals.”
Before Lan WangJi can attack him Wei WuXian says, “Hope you like the portrait I drew of you!” and skips out of the Library Pavilion, laughing all the while.
That night Wei WuXian lays in bed and stares up at the ceiling, the time far past curfew. He thinks about how funny Lan WangJi’s reaction to noticing the pornography in his hands was. And how powerful Lan WangJi was as he pulled Wei WuXian towards him.
Wei WuXian thinks about the warmth of Lan WangJi’s body against his and how nice it was. It will be a long while until he forgets it.
The faint flush of red he noticed creeping up Lan WangJi’s ears as Wei WuXian hovered over him, their legs wonderfully tangled together, had been very cute, too.
7-
Being dragged in the air by the collar is an uncomfortable and frankly demeaning experience. Wei WuXian makes sure Lan WangJi is aware of this as they sail through the inner lakes of Caiyi Town. They’ve somehow wound up sharing the same boat, Lan XiChen having been adamant for the arrangement.
“Won’t Lan Zhan mind?” Wei WuXian had asked, glancing over Lan XiChen’s shoulder at Lan WangJi staring frostily at the distance.
“Believe me, Young Master Wei,” Lan XiChen replied, his smile kind and all too knowing, “I don’t think WangJi will mind at all.”
And so Wei WuXian has spent the last hour berating Lan WangJi for his rough hand at Biling Lake. “Have you no idea how to be tender?” he accuses. “My body’s fragile and must be treated accordingly! You can’t grab me like I’m a misbehaving dog!”
Lan WangJi spares him a look. “You dove into the water without second thought,” he says, as if that was a just explanation.
“I did have a second thought,” Wei WuXian denies. “My first thought was, ‘Someone’s stuck in the lake!’ And my second thought was, ‘Well, now I must save him.’”
“Reckless.”
“How about ‘heroic’?”
“No.”
Scoffing, Wei WuXian wordlessly offers Lan WangJi the loquat from the merchant girl; a truce. When Lan WangJi shakes his head he teases, “If you find me so irresponsible, then you should’ve left me in the water.”
“I would not.”
“Why?”
Lan WangJi looks away, like the answer is too evident to say aloud.
Somehow, Wei WuXian is touched. “Well,” he says, softly for once, “even though you did treat me a bit roughly, I’m grateful you saved me.”
“Mn.”
“Thank you, Lan Zhan.”
He inclines his head.
Wei WuXian’s chest feels too tight. So he decides to ruin the moment and says, “Let this grateful one show you his gratitude.” With a face thick as a wall, he takes the loquat and pushes it into Lan WangJi’s mouth, just so its tip breaches his lips.
He’s shot with a glare so scathing it can melt metal, so full of heat it ignites something in his gut that threatens to boil over the longer he stares back. But surprisingly, Lan WangJi doesn’t move, and so they stay like this for a long, motionless beat.
Wei WuXian can’t look away from where his hand nearly brushes Lan WangJi’s cheek, Lan WangJi’s lips wrap gently around the fruit, the soft breath he feels puff against his fingers. “Are you not satisfied with what I offer?” he murmurs.
A rush of breath. A jolt of fear. Lan WangJi lurches backwards and slaps Wei WuXian’s hand away, grabbing the loquat in the same motion. “You —” he says before stopping himself, disconcerted and indignant.
Wei WuXian can’t help but laugh when Lan WangJi turns away and, in his haste to be as far away from him as possible, stuffs the entire loquat in his mouth. He laughs even harder at the expected crack as Lan WangJi bites through its seeds.
The mood is ruined yet improved. They don’t speak of Wei WuXian’s shameless act. Nevertheless, Wei WuXian tucks away the image of Lan WangJi’s parted lips for a later time.
6-
Months after his expulsion from the Cloud Recesses and subsequent return to Lotus Pier, Wei WuXian drops his sword after a grueling training session and wipes his brow with a sigh.
It’s the height of summer in Yunmeng. These days he sweats through his entire wardrobe before nightfall. It’s times like these — his entire person damp with sweat and humidity, still with an entire afternoon left to go — where Wei WuXian wishes he hadn’t lost his temper and gotten kicked out of Gusu.
He’s heard that summer in Gusu is nice; not too hot, not too humid. If the three months of spring Wei WuXian had spent in the Cloud Recesses were any indication, a summer spent there would be a sweet reprieve from the relentless heat of Lotus Pier. He’d gladly travel the long way back there, solely for the weather.
...Well, maybe not solely.
After all, what had been Lan WangJi’s words to him before he departed? Wei WuXian’s memory has never been the best, but that day is a day he isn’t going to forget anytime soon.
Lan WangJi visited Wei WuXian after his brawl with Jin ZiXuan, during his kneeling of penance. Despite being perturbed at Wei WuXian’s display of childness involving an ant hill and a stick, Lan WangJi was swayed enough by Wei WuXian’s pleas for company to stay for a moment longer.
Then Wei WuXian, as a joke, said, “Are you going to miss me?”
And Lan WangJi said, without hesitation, “Yes.”
That response was so unexpected Wei WuXian nearly fell out of his kneeling position. He didn’t, but he still couldn’t respond back, too astonished to conjure up words.
After watching the display of blubbering astonishment, Lan WangJi nodded in farewell and left.
Wei WuXian was uncharacteristically silent for the rest of his punishment.
The entire exchange was near nonsensical in its incredulity; however, as he and Jiang FengMian traveled home to Yunmeng, Lan WangJi’s earnest yes was all Wei WuXian could think about, and by the time he greeted Jiang YanLi at the docks of Lotus Pier, his cheeks were sore from smiling so hard and so often.
A fact cemented itself into his brain, then, heavy in its veracity: Lan WangJi is a force Wei WuXian can’t help but be drawn to.
Brought back to the present by an insistent call of his name, Wei WuXian turns to find his shijie waiting for him in the shade, a plate of sliced watermelon in her hands. Her smile is brighter than the blazing sun that beats Wei WuXian’s back with its unforgiving heat. The sight alone is enough to make him unspeakably happy. Wei WuXian dusts himself off and heads towards her, his steps light and content.
A pinprick of longing tugs at his heart. But it can’t be helped, so he ignores it.
5-
The moment Wei WuXian inadvertently snatches the ribbon off Lan WangJi’s forehead, he realizes that he may have made a mistake.
Lan WangJi yanks back the ribbon and storms away. The archery competition resumes and Wei WuXian emerges victorious. But even as YunmengJiang rejoice and QishanWen whine at its failure the breach the top five, he can’t shake off the burning intensity of Lan WangJi’s glare when he turned around and looked at Wei WuXian as if he’d personally wronged him.
Why is Lan WangJi so territorial over a piece of cloth? Wei WuXian can’t wrap his head around it.
What an impression he’s made, after nearly a year of being apart.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Wei WuXian seeks Lan WangJi out before GusuLan Sect departs, not bothering with an explanation as he grabs Lan WangJi’s arm and drags him off. Surprisingly, he isn’t thwarted; but that may be in part to Lan XiChen waving off his disciples’ offers to chase after him.
Only when they’re somewhere more private does Wei WuXian let Lan WangJi go. “Okay,” he says, “let’s talk.”
Lan WangJi stares at him as if Wei WuXian asked for his hand in marriage — as in, he looks absolutely unwilling.
“Talk,” he repeats.
“It’s obvious I did something that bothered you.” Wei WuXian sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Was it the forehead ribbon? It really was crooked, I swear.”
Lan WangJi purses his lips the way one does after biting something sour.
“I don’t want to leave our first meeting after all these months on bad terms.”
Lan WangJi says nothing.
“Apparently forehead ribbons are important in your sect? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I was only trying to help.”
A crack in Lan WangJi’s spotless composure surfaces when his left eye does the slightest twitch. He says, “You...don’t know.”
“...Yes?”
“You’ve copied both Virtue and Conduct.”
“Yes.”
“Thrice.”
“And?”
Lan WangJi takes a deep breath. And then another. And then another. Wei WuXian waits for him to finish, because he’s considerate like that.
“You,” Lan WangJi says, “...are very forgetful.”
“Yes, yes, the most forgetful.” In all honesty, Wei WuXian will agree to anything as long as it won’t push Lan WangJi away again. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Somehow this seems to make Lan WangJi angry. His eyebrows furrow, and before Wei WuXian can fully appreciate the crease that appears between them Lan WangJi forcefully says, “Take responsibility!” and stomps back to his sect.
Wei WuXian is distantly aware that he’d said those same words back at the Library Pavilion. But as a joke. Did Lan WangJi make a joke? After pondering for many minutes, it’s the only reason Wei WuXian comes up with, because he can’t think of any other as to why Lan WangJi said what he just said.
What a strange man.
By the time Wei WuXian decides to play along and yell back, “Okay, I will! I will take responsibility!” Lan WangJi and his sect are already long out of earshot, their mourning robes burning into the reds and yellows of QishanWen Sect’s horizon.
4-
The Wens have become far too arrogant and flagrantly smug. To strip guest disciples of their swords and sent them off on a nighthunt is something done only by those too steeped in their pride, who see all others as beneath them from their self-construed pedestal. It’s disgraceful. It’s a slap in the face to every other sect in the cultivation world. It’s an invitation to war.
In their fruitless search for a mythical beast, Wei WuXian notices Lan WangJi’s limping figure and offers him his back to rest on, his arms to hold him steady, his legs to carry him through the turbulent waters they’ve found themselves in the crossfire of.
Of course his offer is refused. Lan WangJi, too, has a pride that, while not as all-consumingly pompous as the QishanWen Sect’s, is nonetheless present. Wei WuXian is not hurt by the rejection.
But when Jiang Cheng informs Wei WuXian of the state of the Cloud Recesses — razed to the ground by none other than the sect they’re guest disciples under — he only wishes he had been more adamant about carrying him.
It’s the least he can do. After all, he, to Lan WangJi…
Well. Wei WuXian has always had quite the bleeding heart.
3-
They slay the XuanWu, and in the most inopportune of times, Wei WuXian catches a fever.
His vision blurs. He knows they’re still in the cave, that their only chance at escape was destroyed in battle — but all he can register is the pillowed warmth his head lays on and Lan WangJi’s face hovering over him, demanding he stays awake.
Their situation is less than ideal. Lan WangJi has an invaded sect to rebuild. Wei WuXian has people waiting for him, too. They’re both all too familiar with the hostility bubbling between the QishanWen Sect and the rest of the cultivation world. They both know what arises when sparks are lit and fire catches.
But for now, Wei WuXian decides to be selfish.
“I —” Wei WuXian chokes, absolutely terrified. “After all this is over...you…”
The words go unspoken. He doesn’t say what this is. He doesn’t say what he wants because he doesn’t really know what he wants at all; from Lan WangJi, from himself, from whatever’s been curdling between the two of them every time they’ve kept each other’s company.
Or maybe he does. Maybe he has known — from when he carried Lan WangJi out of infested waters. Or maybe since the time he pulled of Lan WangJi’s hair ribbon. Or it could have started the moment they first met on that rooftop, moonlight cascading over Lan WangJi so ethereally Wei WuXian could still recall how heavenly he looked as beams of radiance played with the inkiness of his hair.
And then Lan WangJi says, “Yes,” bringing both time and Wei WuXian’s heart to a standstill.
His throat becomes scratchy. He croaks out, “Yes? For...”
Lan WangJi nods. He takes Wei WuXian’s hand in his own, paying the wounds he himself slashed into his palms no mind.
“Yes,” Lan WangJi says again. “To all of it, yes.”
His voice holds the slightest tremble yet is nonetheless resolute. When Wei WuXian is too delirious to respond he repeats himself, word by word, again and again, each time more determined than the last.
All of it. All of what? Whatever it is, with how Lan WangJi is looking at him, his eyes bright enough for Wei WuXian to see in them his own reflection — if it’s something Lan WangJi’s willing to take, it’s something Wei WuXian’s willing to give.
His lips twitch into a smile. “Really?” he slurs.
Wei WuXian can’t have imagined it. No imagination could conjure up anything close to the wondrous thrill pulsing through his bloodstream as Lan WangJi presses his mouth to the palm of his hand.
“I promise,” Lan WangJi says, his breath tender as it caresses Wei WuXian’s fingers.
Satisfied, Wei WuXian succumbs to the static fraying the edges of his consciousness. His brain turns to spun sugar when Lan WangJi’s thumb glides across his bruised knuckles, and a stupid, preposterous thought drifts across his sleep-addled mind: that Lan WangJi will do anything for him, so long as Wei WuXian asks of it.
Foolishly putting his idea to the test, he murmurs, “Sing me a song.”
And sure enough, Lan WangJi does.
2-
Wei WuXian wakes up not to the lovely sound of Lan WangJi’s humming, but to the ceiling of his room in Lotus Pier. He looks to the side and finds Jiang YanLi beside him, then Jiang Cheng, and eventually Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu appear, too.
With his returned lucidity comes animosity. It follows him wherever he goes. Ever since Jiang FengMian brought him here as a child, it has followed; between the Jiang family, him at the epicentre, growing and growing until he has become nearly interchangeable with it. Jiang FengMian storms off and Madam Yu angrily stalks after him, leaving behind Wei WuXian to assure their son, alone, that no matter the relationship between his parents, Wei WuXian will be a steady presence he can count on.
This isn’t his job. But this is his family, so he does it anyway.
And anyway, the sooner this smooths over, the sooner he recovers, Wei WuXian can —
“So did Lan Zhan not leave a message for me?” Wei WuXian asks Jiang Cheng. “Has his brother been found? How’s the situation at his sect?”
He’s calmer now than he was when his parents were around. Jiang Cheng helps Wei WuXian back into bed and allows him to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Gods,” he says. “Please. No. Don’t fucking drag me into your lovey dovey bullshit. I didn’t walk for seven days on nothing but air and dust just to hear you moon over the guy the second you wake up from a three-day coma. Sheesh. Have some dignity.”
Jiang Cheng’s face turns near green with disgust, and Wei WuXian doesn’t have enough tact to feel the slightest bit embarrassed. He only laughs. He laughs so hard his chest begins to hurt, from both the strength of his laughter and what may be the rebreaking of a few recovering ribs. Jiang Cheng squacks as he’s pulled into a surprise wrestling match, of which he eventually wins. But only because Wei WuXian lets him.
The Wens can wait. The entire cultivation world can wait. For now, Wei WuXian is happy, and he will force time to stop just so he has enough of it to revel in how lucky he is. To be who he is, to have what he has, to breathe the company he keeps.
This happiness does not subside; it is extinguished, becoming nothing but soot staining the pads of a pointer finger and a thumb, its span not long enough for his wounds from the XuanWu to heal.
A kite is shot from the sky. The sun flares in anger and bursts in retaliation.
A spark is lit and the fire catches.
With Lotus Pier ablaze and Jiang Cheng screaming for his parents behind him, Wei WuXian runs away.
1-
Jiang Cheng admits to Wei WuXian a secret too damning to repeat, so tragic it taints the very air the words pierce through when escaping his mouth. His gaze is soulless and his punches are light, no longer holding a strength that was present the day before: a strength Wei WuXian felt when he held Jiang Cheng back as he vehemently tried to break out of his arms and toward the profaned bodies of his parents; a strength similar to the pressure compressing Wei WuXian’s heart as he, once again, watches helplessly as his shidi cries.
Wei WuXian places a hand to his chest and ponders the golden thrumming under his palm. He hears Wen Qing, the greatest physician of the cultivation world, bark out an order in the near distance.
It takes only a second for him to realize what must be done.
0
Wei WuXian falls.
As he tumbles towards sprawling, unforgiving ground, his mind races towards terminal velocity just as quickly his body does.
He thinks of the last orders Madam Yu barked at him as she led them away from the flames licking the walls of Lotus Pier, a promise he planned to keep even if it hadn’t been her final wish before dying in battle. He thinks of Jiang Cheng, his shidi, and the newly stitched scars on both their chests above where Jiang Cheng’s new golden core is and where Wei WuXian’s used to be.
He thinks of his lack of regret. Wei WuXian doesn’t feel a lick of it. There wasn’t a single moment in which he doubted his decision.
He thinks of the last time he felt this kind of vertigo, this unhinged weightlessness in his gut as he free falls through the air.
The scorched earth of Burial Mound relentlessly creeps closer. Wei WuXian closes his watering eyes.
Senselessly, he thinks about the first time he met Lan WangJi.
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
-1
Twisted and mangled by the impact, Wei WuXian finds himself in a valley haunted by the dead, damned by the living, and knows he cannot die here.
Longing lurches in his heart. This time it’s not for a golden stare, for the warmth of another boy’s hand holding his, but for the blood of QishanWen to drip through his fingers. Both the Burial Mound and Wei WuXian reek of death. Whispers of thoughts he’s not sure are his own pervade his head, promising to grant him his wish if he — just — lets — them —
There’s still so much to be done. He cannot die here. His home was massacred and the cultivation world is steadily marching down the somber path to war. He cannot die here. His shidi and shijie are out there, somewhere, waiting for him to return. He cannot die here.
Lan WangJi, his broken leg and teary eyes not at all dimming the overwhelming presence of him, took his hand and gave him a promise. For what, Wei WuXian isn’t entirely sure. But he wants to find out. All he can think about now is what might — can — happen. And so he cannot die here.
After all this is over —
Wei WuXian gets up.
Yes. To all of it, yes.
He will grab the sun by its horns and blaze it to the ground. He will teach each deserving Wen the consequence for their greed. He will ensure that the YunmengJiang Sect is restored to its original glory: Jiang Cheng at the helm, Jiang YanLi’s tender countenance untainted and upheld, and Wei WuXian at their sides all the while.
And after that — after that, Wei WuXian will allow time for himself, to begin to understand just what Lan WangJi agreed to give him.
Wei WuXian breathes another breath and moves on, moves forward, struggling past resentful energy so thick it sticks to his skin, so opaque he can barely see through it over his dimmed vision. His feet press deep into the dry earth, each step succeeding the other, eyes hazy with hope and the thought of Lan Zhan and the something that might happen after all this.