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It seemed like a long time ago, those days Lan Wangji delved deeply into his studies to hide from his thoughts. His body was still weak, many months after the whip had taken to his flesh and torn him apart until there was nearly no human left. But this pain cut deeper than any pain of the mortal plight, something that swallowed him whole and choked up his throat. It felt like a million years, like the worst punishment any man had ever been given.
But now he was redeemed. Whether it was his suffering or his triumph that had allowed for these moments to happen, he was grateful. Where the wildflowers grew, he sat gently tying together stems and sticks to a circlet formed branch. His calloused fingers that so tenderly played the strings of the guqin were adept at this, building a crown of wildflowers, deep purples and harmonious yellows; flashing reds and cool blues. Next to him two others sat, also trying their hand at the childish trick of making a flower crown.
In these moments his heart sang, because something he’d never dreamed of had come. He’d mourned this- this opportunity to bask in the sunshine with the bright smiles of his family. Wei Ying was far, far worse than the two experienced with instruments. But he tried, and Lan Wangji loved him for that more than anything, how his smile flashed despite the ever-growing pile of stems and petals. Sizhui giggled at the sight of his father crowning himself with a circlet of almost nothing, but grinning with the pride of a well established craftsman.
This is home. Not just Cloud Recesses, well-worn with the imprint of his existence, but these two. Fondness filled Lan Wangji’s heart. Even if Lan Sizhui was nearly grown, they were living like they’d have when he was a boy. He’d spent a childhood in two worlds, and now his worlds were reunited again.
“I don’t think I’m so good at this, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying pouted.
“Keep trying, you’ll get it eventually.”
Here was their hiding place. Once where their swords had collided in battle, Wei Ying as playful as Lan Wangji was cross. Time had been kind to them, despite everything. The time to reunite here, two old men and their son. Their son, so grown now, living to the legacy that Lan Wangji had always known he would. Strong, fair, balanced, measured, good and truly kind. Kinder than almost all hearts Lan Wangji had ever known, only matched by the heart of his beloved. Almost as if they came from the same kin.
With delicate care, Lan Wangji tied the vine of the flower around the circlet, winding it around the circlet. It was a trumpeting purple flower, cast in deep violet. When the blooms were at last wound between the other flowers, it was finally finished. Pleased, Wangji turned the flower crown around, inspecting his work with the precision only a Lan could have.
Wei Ying had given up on his own work, instead carefully watching the work of his son whose lithe fingers tied stems and branches together. The two were smiling, laughing at each other. When Wei Wuxian himself tried again, he only snapped off the stem of a daisy.
To Lan Wangji, this felt like a dream. Dappled sunlight cast through leaves reflected against the inky black of his Wei Ying’s hair, unbound and loose around his shoulders. He was so beautiful like this, tucking a strand behind his ear. When he noticed Lan Wangji’s gaze, he bit back a smile. He winked, flashing his trademark Wei Ying smile.
A million thoughts ran through Wangji’s head. His heart felt close to bursting staring into those silver eyes, an image that Lan Wangji had spent so much time dreaming of in those long sixteen years. I love you. I love you more than a million words could ever say. I love you like I love my favorite things, like the sunrise and the trickling of a stream. I will never let you go again. Wangji’s lips curled into a smile.
He shifted forward, taking the lavish circlet and placing it atop the head of his beloved. Against those black locks every color shone many shades brighter than it had ever done before, the scarlets and violets and azures. You are my everything.
“Here.” Sizhui crowned Lan Wangji, still leaving the oddly hanging daisies placed by Wei Ying’s hand. He smiled, his eyes curling into half moons resembling those of Wei Wuxian’s. Even if they were not of the same blood, they were of the same kin.
“I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” And so he left, footsteps crunching up the path.
The Lan Wangji’s of the past would’ve had different reactions to this scene. Surprised, appalled, relieved, Wangji could only think of how far they’d come. Of all the years they’d spent together and apart. But this all was his now, and he took it in stride, hoping to spend every day of the rest of his life with Wei Wuxian.
He leaned his back against a tree, shoulders connected with those of Wei Wuxian’s. At some point he’d started chewing a piece of grass, staring off into the distance at the rushing waterfall and the reflections of the pond. He looked beautiful.
Wangji tapped the back of Wei Ying’s hand with one finger, signifying for him to turn his hand over. He interlaced their fingers, squeezing tight. Wei Ying squeezed back, tipping his head to the side so it rested on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. His crown fell lopsided but it didn’t matter. In the silence all that could be heard were the soft chirping of sparrows, the gurgling of a nearby stream, the sound of Wei Wuxian breathing.
Like this he could drift off, comfortable just to rest crowned in flowers and leaves, two princes of the wood in their contrasting clothing, the reds and blacks of Wei Ying against the blues and whites of Lan Wangji. And as he slipped away to the clutches of sleep, he thought only about the violet of the gentian against Wei Wuxian’s hair-- and how such a pretty violet was only ever made by red and blue. That’s why it was his favorite, after all.