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“think about it,” jiang cheng says, bitter frown turning down the corners of his mouth.
“have you ever seen him without a bottle in hand? to him, wine’s flavor must be close enough to water that he might survive off it.”
the purple of jiang cheng’s robes shines with dignity, but the color is also reflected in bruises beneath his eyes. it seems in rebuilding lotus pier, the jiang siblings have been tearing themselves down in the process. lan wangji has even noticed the lady jiang looking more sullen than usual. he’d been hesitant to ask about wei ying, unwilling to hear the ways in which he’s been affected by his three months away—the details of which he’s been relentlessly cagey about—but as with all things regarding wei ying, his hesitance hadn’t lasted.
“i’ve brought books from the gusu library, clan leader jiang,” lan wangji intones, gesturing to the bag resting on his hip.
“perhaps some reading will help with his mood.”
jiang cheng scoffs lightly, eyeing lan wangji with something like exasperation.
“second young master lan, i’m not sure that we’ll have the books to thank for it, but i do believe my brother’s spirits will marginally improve for one reason or another today. thank you for your consideration.”
lan wangji merely bows in response, resting a hand at his back as he turns to find wei ying’s room. it’s only when he’s made it about halfway across the village that he runs into the lady jiang, humming to herself as she crosses the courtyard.
“ah, second young master lan, what a wonderful surprise! are you here to see a-xian?”
lan wangji has no idea how lady jiang could have deduced this, since they still aren’t close to wei ying’s room, but he bows in greeting and nods once in confirmation. lady jiang smiles fondly, only for her expression to fall in the next moment.
“well, if you’re going to knock on his door, i’m afraid you won’t find him there,” she says worriedly, clasping her hands nervously in front of her. lan wangji frowns.
“forgive my bluntness, but is wei ying not in yunmeng at the moment?”
lady jiang’s eyes widen, almost tearful.
“oh—i would hope not, at least—but no, i’m sure he’s just in town.” she smiles weakly, then glances around briefly, hesitant to say her next words.
“i… would suggest looking in the liquor lounges, young master lan… a-xian certainly has missed the lotus wine here, it seems,” she attempts to laugh good-naturedly, but her hands give her away, fidgeting restlessly in worry. lan wangji frowns, thinking back to jiang cheng’s comment as well.
“lady jiang, i hope rebuilding continues going smoothly. i ask you to entrust wei ying to me. i will do my best to help him in whatever way necessary.”
he bows, fingertips pressed to nails pressed to the sheath of his sword, but when he looks up lady jiang’s eyes have become even sadder.
“second young master lan, a-xian certainly is lucky to have your dedicated focus at his beck and call.”
lan wangji doesn’t know what to say in response, but lady jiang bows politely, and turns away before he can make up his mind.
—
wei ying is in a place called the swordfish lounge, looking perhaps the most openly miserable lan wangji has ever seen him.
lan wangji takes measured steps (seven from the door, to be exact) until he stands at the side of wei ying’s table. it takes one more drink and forty-four seconds for wei ying to look up.
“ah, lan zhan,” he says, attempting a smile. it only rises to his cheeks.
“what in the world could you be doing so far away from gusu?”
lan wangji suppresses the urge to scoff, instead sending wei ying a look of vague displeasure.
what else in the world could i ever be doing, aside from finding you?
“i see, you’ve come to have a drink with me, lan zhan!” his expression turns mischievous and he lowers his voice, conspiratorial.
“don’t worry, i won’t tell on you since it’s against lan code. come, sit!” wei ying pours another cup for lan wangji, setting it across from himself. lan wangji sighs softly, decides to humor him and sits down carefully in the empty spot, to wei ying’s grand surprise.
“r-really?! lan zhan, you’ll really drink?”
“no,” lan wangji answers. “but i sat.”
wei ying deflates, knocking back another cup.
“well i do suppose that’s indulgent for you, lan zhan. i suppose so.”
he takes a lotus seed from the display between them and begins peeling it.
“so, to what to do i truly owe the pleasure, lan wangji?”
lan wangji blinks, gestures again to bag at his side.
“i’ve brought you reading.”
wei ying’s eyes go wide, and he scrambles backwards, away from the table, lotus seed skipping between in his fingers and rolling under the table.
“no! it isn’t lecture season anymore, lan zhan! you can’t make me study! i won’t go back!” he dramatically casts his arm over his eyes. lan wangji picks up the seed.
“i’ve just remembered, lan zhan, all those years on the streets, deprived of an education—i’m illiterate, in fact! pretending all this time, so as not to bring shame on jiang clan! nothing to be done about it,” he says tearfully, peeking above his sleeve at lan wangji, who sighs again.
“it is… it is all the documentation i could find on demonic cultivation.”
wei ying does not move his arm, but his eyes go dark.
“lan wangji, i swore to you—”
“i am aware of the promise you made,” lan wangji says quickly.
“but i… your path is uncharted. perhaps if you underst—”
“i understand what i’m doing just fine, lan zhan,” wei ying intones cooly. he sweeps up the bottle he’d been drinking from and drains the remnants within.
“i see,” lan wangji says, though he doesn’t.
“then allow me to accompany you back to the village. clan leader and lady jiang will be worried; it’s nearly dark.”
wei ying snorts but agrees, standing up very slowly and very carefully, which lan wangji suspects is a tactic to keep himself from toppling over. lan wangji hurries to stand as well, limbs tensed in the event that wei ying does indeed lose his balance. on the walk back, however, wei ying seems a little more clear, or it could just be the way his eyes look in the light of the setting sun.
they’re quiet, which is usual for lan wangji, but couldn’t be less so for wei ying. at one point, lan wangji tosses the now-peeled lotus seed he’d picked up at wei ying, who catches it with a smile. still, the silence remains unbroken, a cool reflecting pond, surface tempered glass. by the time they arrive, stars are winking above.
wei ying comes to a stop on the soft grass just outside the residential quarters. lan wangji stands next to him. wei ying tilts his head up, and the stars land their light in his eyes, so lan wangji looks there instead of up, because this way he gets to look at the stars as well as wei ying, and well, that’s just practical if he thinks about it.
“lan zhan,” wei ying says, though his voice is so quiet and dry that it doesn’t truly sound like him. lan wangji waits.
“lan zhan, madame yu used to tell me… used to tell me that i am like a toad in a frog pond.”
lan wangji blinks, brows knitting together. anger rises in his chest.
“i didn’t know what she meant when i was… little, but,” wei ying pauses, lowering his head again and gazing at the light in the windows of the sword hall and lady jiang’s room.
“but now i really, really do.”
he smiles, turns to face lan wangji.
“plus my eyes bulge big quite like a toad’s, wouldn’t you say?” and he doubles over in exaggerated laughter. it sounds like it hurts. lan wangji makes a frustrated noise, puts a hand on wei ying’s shoulder.
“wei wuxian,” is all he can manage to say, in the only way he can say it—tired, worn, like he’s said it a million times before, half-steeped in love no matter how he tries to wring it out.
wei ying falls quiet, though he remains bent over, staring at the grass.
“why did you really come to yunmeng, lan zhan?”
lan wangji removes his hand and folds it behind himself.
“lying is against lan code, wei ying. i’ve told you the reason already,” he says, and starts walking to wei ying’s room, with only faith and years of experience to reassure him that wei ying will follow as he always does. when they near the door, wei ying seems to remember something, and scrambles to stand between lan wangji and the door.
“lan zhan! i should… clean up, it’s…”
“nonsense, wei ying. i’ve visited many times.”
wei ying smiles sheepishly.
“yes, i suppose you have… besides, you’re not the type to scold, just silently judge, as usual. i’m ok with that,” wei ying says cheerfully, and throws the doors open. lan wangji doesn’t know what he was expecting, but everything seems to be as it should—the table is only occupied by a teapot, no doubt a nightly delivery from lady jiang, seeing as it’s still steaming, and there are no robes strewn about.
the only strange thing is wei ying himself, who is crouched in an odd position as he reaches under a piece of furniture to retrieve—ah, another bottle of lotus wine. and now things fall into place; lan wangji now notes the empty bottles piled in the corners of the room, mostly hidden by darkness or furniture, but there regardless.
think about it, have you ever seen him without a bottle in hand?
lan wangji clears his throat.
“wei ying, you’ve already drank today.”
wei ying laughs bitterly.
“yes, but you see, if i lay down to sleep now, i’ll surely wake up in the night, and i’ll remember my dreams, too. i’ll keep drinking until i’m assured i won’t be conscious until sunrise, at least. come, let’s sit on the roof, lan wangji.”
as much as lan wangji is concerned, as much as he’d like to knock the bottle out of wei ying’s hand and off of the roof they sit on, he sees this for the opportunity it is. he waits until wei ying is about halfway through, and asks, for the umpteenth time, “tell me why you won’t use your sword.”
wei ying pauses in the middle of his drink. swallows.
“hm, we were having such a nice time, lan wangji,” he protests. “why will you ruin it now?”
“tell me,” lan wangji says simply, “and i will help you.”
wei ying smiles, tilts his head.
“no. but lan wangji will help me anyway. even though i am a toad in a frog pond, lan wangji will help me anyway. how nice and kind and honorable is the second young master, the twin jade of the gusu-lan clan, that he will pick up a toad in a frog pond, with no idea if it’s poisonous or not?”
lan wangji frowns, anger coming back, ripping hot.
“this isn’t true.”
“hm?” wei ying says, taking another drink.
“madame yu was incorrect. you are unlike a toad. you are… the comparison is foolish.”
luckily, wei ying seems to be too far gone to tease lan wangji into finishing his thought. he giggles into the bottle, the sound echoing inside the jar.
“lan wangji, shh! you are sitting on her ancestral ground! you’ll stir up an evil spirit that will come and steal jiang cheng’s zidian back and whip me for getting her killed!” his laugh turns hysterical, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as his knuckles go white around the bottle.
“wei wuxian,” lan wangji says again, in the only way he can say it. he puts a hand on wei ying’s.
“you mustn’t worry about these whippings any longer. not… not while i am here.”
the embarrassment hits lan wangji immediately, crawling up his neck, but wei ying doesn’t seem particularly impressed. he tips his head back to pour the rest of the liquor into his mouth.
“yes,” he says once he swallows. he tosses the bottle behind himself, and turns toward lan wangji, scooting closer even as his robes drag behind him and catch over the roofing. he leans in, and now lan wangji can see the effects the alcohol has had; his eyes are dim and struggling not to cross at every moment, and his mouth is wet and red, and his breath is stale and stinging. his hair is tangled.
“but lan wangji can only hold the toad for so long, you know? eventually he will put it back, and find a good-looking frog instead… definitely non-poisonous. if lan wangji kept the toad it wouldn’t be proper—everyone would ask him, ‘why do you have that ugly toad? won’t it poison you?’ and it wouldn’t be worth the has… hassle.”
lan wangji reaches with one hand, only to take it back.
“wei ying, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“me neither,” wei ying says, looking very sad about it indeed. lan wangji studies him, and wei ying lets himself be studied.
“tell me,” lan wangji says, as if he could focus spiritual energy into the words, as if he could make them more convincing.
wei ying’s brows push together, and then he looks down, and then back up, and then he says, “no,” and presses forward to put his lips on lan wangji’s.
lan wangji closes his eyes reflexively, and wei ying’s hands land on his knee and thigh, and lan wangji doesn’t move. but, as with all things regarding wei wuxian, his hesitance doesn’t last.
it’s just like this: lan wangji has thought about this more times than there are lan rules, and then he’s thought about breaking just about every one of those rules with wei wuxian. and here, he’s already broken one; no indulgence.
he thinks, very unlike himself, that as long as it’s broken, he might as well keep breaking it, and lets wei wuxian lick into his mouth.
this, of course, is where they run out of time, because wei wuxian’s mouth tastes like alcohol, and he’s sliding sideways, and he’ll fall off the roof, and lan wangji won’t let wei wuxian fall. in one movement, lan wangji detaches, puts one arm around wei ying’s back, and the other under his knees, and kicks off the roof, floating back down in front of wei ying’s door with little more than a flutter of his robes. he sets wei ying down, only to promptly pick him back up when he stumbles and nearly falls again.
wei ying blinks up at him as lan wangji carries him to his bed. it’s quiet inside, the bugs that live in the lotus flowers chirp, and the water at the pier makes the air soft and cool. once his shoes and outer robes are off, wei ying pulls lan wangji down next to him in bed.
“wei ying—!” lan wangji says. wei ying giggles and throws himself on top of lan wangji.
“lan wangji, sleep here with me tonight, aren’t i so much prettier than the girls in gusu-lan? wasn’t it so nice to kiss me, lan wangji?”
lan wangji feels his cheeks go red as the ribbon in wei ying’s hair, and forces wei ying off, sitting up.
“wei ying… you are intoxicated.”
wei ying groans into his pillow.
“lan zhan, you are boring. now we’re both guilty of crimes, so come here, kiss me, lan wangji! i’ve already touched your headband after all, so let me fulfill the rest of those requirements.”
lan wangji stands quickly, rewrapping his robes about himself where wei ying had managed to yank them apart.
“wei ying, you must rest. i will leave the books on your table.”
he shuffles quickly back out to the table, and only turns back once his heart has slowed down. he steps back up to the bed.
“wei ying… i must go.”
wei ying turns his face away.
“i told you… you have to put the toad back in the frog pond. it’s only right.”
lan wangji grits his teeth.
“wei ying,” he says, reconsiders, continues.
“you are most certainly prettier than any gusu-lan has to offer. i will return soon.”
he rushes out of the door without looking for wei ying’s reaction; he may have already fallen asleep.
—
the burial mounds are always cold. lan wangji tightens his grip on bichen, neck prickling as he makes his way up the mountain.
tense as he always is in yiling, he is unable to suppress the feeling of relief, of joy, as soon as he sees wei ying, bouncing a-yuan on his hip as he observes a patch of sprouting turnips. the red ribbon in his hair falls over his shoulder, his eyes warm and laughing and—
“lan zhan!”
lan wangji shakes himself, readjusting his fingers on bichen as he makes his way over turned earth and cut bamboo to wei ying. always seeking him out, among all else.
“lan zhan,” wei ying says again, his smile somehow only more brilliant with proximity. lan wangji returns the expression with his own warm gaze, and wei ying sets a-yuan down, who runs over to lady wen, a few paces away.
“come, lan zhan, i’ll pour you water.”
the inside of the cave is damp and bare as ever, the oppressive energy of the stygian tiger amulet clinging to wei ying as he passes by.
“tell me, what happens in the outside world, lan zhan? let this old hermit know the news,” wei ying says with a laugh, but lan wangji can’t bring himself to find the subject as funny. he looks into the gently rippling water in the cup wei ying hands him.
“the clan leaders are discussing a battle.”
wei ying plucks his flute off a low table, twirling it in hand.
“a battle, you say? has jiang cheng made trouble with a neighboring region?”
lan wangji shakes his head.
“a battle with you.”
the flute makes a hollow sound against wei ying’s palm.
“with me?”
“yes. to seize the stygian tiger amulet.” lan wangji looks up to see wei ying’s head lowered, eyes unreadable.
“lan wangji,” he begins, seems to reassess, then continues.
“lan wangji, i beg you to help me as you have been. convince them otherwise, or at least put a stall to their actions. wen ning is not strong enough to travel yet.”
lan wangji sighs, set his cup down.
“wei ying, this is all i do. day in, and day out, i follow lan xichen to clan meetings, i speak up, remind them of all the good you have done, but—clan leader jin is insistent. it has to come from you.”
wei ying’s jaw tightens and he turns his head to gaze out onto the garden. the remaining wen clan’s laughter filters in and echoes off the cave walls.
“if i cannot convince my own brother, how am i to convince the rest?”
lan wangji steps forward, hand landing on bichen.
“this… yiling patriarch… is not someone to be feared. show them that. compromise could come to pass.”
wei ying turns to face lan wangji, eyes burning. he steps closer, too.
“innocent people’s lives is not something i am willing to compromise on, lan zhan, you know this.”
“and the stygian tiger amulet?” lan wangji asks, lifting his chin in challenge.
“will you compromise on this?” he gestures to their surroundings, the blood-red water pooling on the other side of the wall.
wei ying looks away; they are close enough now that lan wangji can see the exhaustion under his eyes, stubble on his jaw.
“that’s different.”
lan wangji feels his knuckles go white around bichen’s grip.
“yet you won’t tell me how.”
wei ying remains silent.
“let me offer you protection in gusu-lan.”
wei ying turns at this, face pained.
“and bring this battle to your home? lan zhan, i’d rather anything else.”
“anything else could be your death, wei wuxian,” lan wangji nearly spits, anger making him hot up his neck.
wei ying leans back against the stone, taking a breath.
“then i suppose this is no better than where we started.”
lan wangji could counter this—where they started brings up endless memories, a lifetime away. studying the lan laws in the library, wei ying’s smiling face, so… innocent at the time. lan wangji wonders if he’ll ever see the same expression.
a black sleeve flutters out; wei ying’s open palm following. there’s a beat of stillness before lan wangji takes it, the touch sending something, an urge, desperate up his spine; to never let go.
wei ying draws him closer, so lan wangji can smell the dampness of the cave wall behind him. wei ying’s other hand rises to brush lan wangji’s temple. they kiss.
wei wuxian tastes of alcohol, of course. when they draw away wei ying looks at him with poorly hidden grief.
“lan zhan, if you could ask the gods for anything in the land, what would it be?” he asks, smile playing on his lips, of course wanting lan wangji to say you.
but lan wangji tires of it. all of it—this endless stalemate, the sadness on lady jiang’s face, the clan meetings that feel more and more like sessions of weaseling wei ying’s weaknesses out of him. and most of all, for some reason—
“i would ask that you wouldn’t taste like wine the next time we kissed,” lan wangji says, easy, true.
wei ying frowns, confusion pushing his brows together, but lan wangji slips out of his hold before he can ask.
“i’ll send warning,” he says, and gives lady wen a polite nod on his way out of the burial mounds.
—
holding wei ying’s hand, slicked with blood, slipping more by the second, lan wangji has a moment of clarity. he takes back his askance of the gods. he tries to say,
you, you, always you, my wei wuxian,
but nothing comes out. jiang cheng’s footsteps become louder, and wei wuxian begs him to let go, and lan wangji feels tears, hot down his face, and he prays for the one thing he wants most in this world, and the gods go silent.
and wei wuxian falls.
—
sixteen years is a long time to wait, but one of the gusu-lan clan’s most prominent virtues is patience.
for the first year, it feels as though lan wangji is back on his knees in front of every law he’d broken for wei ying, snow freezing him, arms aching.
it takes two years for it to stop snowing, and perhaps five before lan wangji rises back to his feet.
when wei wuxian appears, badly concealed by some sort of mask, lan wangji knows his prayers were answered that moment in the nightless city. if a bit late.
however, it appears they’d also taken his retraction seriously, as well. death and subsequent reincarnation have not curbed wei ying’s cravings, it appears, and lan wangji does his best not to sigh as he hands wei ying another bottle while nie huisang watches them dubiously.
though, strangely, wei ying does not kiss lan wangji. he does not press too close, nor draw lan wangji by the tie of his robes to his side, nor do his eyes ask something more salacious in all the nights they spend in the same inn room. lan wangji is concerned wei ying’s memory has been blighted by his hardships, or, more terrifying, that his desires have shifted in the time that has passed. lan wangji had expected to do that exactly himself sometime, eventually… but he never did.
still, lan wangji continues their journey, their mission, now, by wei ying’s side, as he always has been. he tempers his expectations, looks at wei ying’s lips while wei ying looks away.
—
lan wangji doesn’t know that his first prayer was answered by none other than wei ying himself, until all is said and done.
they find a moment alone in the cold springs of gusu-lan after years of immeasurable patience.
“lan wangji,” wei ying says, looking down at the rippling water around him.
lan wangji looks at him, expectant despite himself.
“i feel rather like a toad in a toad pond.”
lan wangji braces himself, or perhaps he doesn’t, but when they kiss, wei wuxian tastes of tea, and nothing else.