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They rest on Dafan mountain. Emerald grasses poke uncomfortably at the seat of their robes, and a boundless blue sky floods Lan Wangji’s vision. Well, not quite. Hints of a wooden bamboo flute being twirled lazily between two fingers, tassel fluttering, interrupts the stillness out of the corner of his eye.
If circumstances had been different, if their legs still ached as they knelt in the spacious hall of Cloud Recesses and mindlessly recited doctrines, his constant movement would have been enough for Wangji to shoot him a glare that could have frozen the pits of hell.
But they are far away now. Time has passed, Gusu Lan is an entire map away, and yet, Wei Wuxian is still by his side.
Wangji finds he regrets nothing.
Beside them, Xiao Ping Guo (Little Apple) snorts and snuffles at the ground hungrily.
“蓝湛啊”。Hey, Lanzhan. The sound of his voice startles Wangji out of his peaceful reverie.
“何事”？ What?
“我以为我们已经想好要各走各路。你为什么改变了决定”？I thought we agreed to go our separate ways. Why did you change your mind?
Wangji looks over at him, studying the slight crease of his forehead, the curious uplift of his left eyebrow. He turns his gaze to the dense fog swirling around mountains caps, carefully considering his answer. How could he begin to explain the jerking in his heart toward the direction his heavy footsteps had come from the moment he heard that light melody flowing through the air, as natural and foreboding as rain? He glances at Wuxian’s earnest, seeking dark eyes again, and knows instantly that he can’t.
He wants to opt for a more straightforward answer, one that will satisfy Wuxian temporarily. “To make sure you don’t get hurt” is an option, and not quite far from the truth. But, Wangji thinks with an itching fondness, it is never that easy with and for Wuxian. He did not deserve it, such a watered-down version of what he really wanted to say.
Instead, “不知” slips out. Don’t know.
An exaggerated groan bursts forth and Wuxian playfully rolls over and flops onto his belly, arms propping his upper body up as he rests his chin onto a palm. “蓝湛！你怎么能这样回答我呀”？How could you answer me this way? Lanzhan wants to scoff, but a lifetime of ramrod discipline reduces the urge to a mere blink.
A silence passes between them, and Lanzhan suppresses a sliver of guilt. He chooses his next words with extra caution. When he eventually does utter them, a gale breathes past, and Wangji wonders if Wuxian heard what he said over the frigid wind. But he did, like he always does, even though Wangji is aware of the habitual quiet timber of his voice.
“你说真的吗”？ Is what you said true? There’s a pout in his voice, but Wangji knows better than to ignore the doubt lingering beneath his comedic countenance.
One would have thought going through life and death together would have been enough for Wuxian to see that Wangji was not about to simply turn tail and abandon him. In fact, Wangji had always had private fears that Wuxian’s free spirit would one day lead him to all corners of the earth, nowhere to be found. Would one day be the one to leave him to be leader of the clans alone.
Now, the thought gradually dissipates. Foolish, he thinks.
“你想呢”？What do you think?
Wangji is unprepared for the full force of his grin, all teeth and crescent eyes, and fights every muscle in his face that yearns to smile back. Then he decides he’s being ridiculous and allows every fibre of his being to wallow in quiet contentment with Wuxian.
“哎，你终于肯笑了”。Ay, you’re finally willing to smile. Triumph lights up Wuxian’s face more so than ever, and Wangji does not understand his pride at getting him to smile. Surely Wuxian knew how easy it was for him to melt Wangji’s ice, that all he had to do was be himself and that alone could send a rush of heat to Wangji’s face?
He tries not to think too much before he replies. “可耻”。Shameless.
Wuxian tilts his face to the cold, white sun, burnishing his skin. Wangji has to look away before he does something he would regret.
“对了，蓝湛，刚才你说你有个秘密要告诉我。你现在说吧”。Oh right, Lanzhan, you said you had a secret to tell me just now. You can say it here.
He recalls their brief interaction at the pathway at the base of the mountain before his disciple, Sizhui, and Wuxian’s puppet friend, Wenning, interrupted them. “我已经说了。思追是啊元”。 I already said. Sizhui is A-yuan.
Wuxian nods, pursing his lips in a way that makes his right cheek puff out ever so slightly. A dimple appears, as quickly as the unexpected seriousness that eclipses his expression. All of a sudden, he is looking at Wangji like he wants to say— No. Like he wants to hear something, something more than what Wangji is offering him.
“就这样而已”？Is that all? Wuxian’s voice is soft, pliant, giving space for Wangji to answer or dodge.
Had he always been so considerate of Wangji’s burdens? Was Wuxian aware of the turmoil festering inside Wangji’s being ever since he had let him and the rest of the Wen clan escape on Qiongqi way? Would he understand how Wangji had tried, for sixteen years, to dissect the reasons why every decision he made was always with Wuxian’s wellbeing in mind?
“还有其他的吗”？Is there anything else? Wangji says quietly.
He suspects they both know what else he wants to say. But Wuxian, unpredictable as ever, turns away slowly, a small smile gracing his features once more, not putting Wangji in a spot.
————
As evening fades to night, they sit facing the descending fiery ball of light, casting shadows behind them. The clouds clear to reveal a beautiful half-moon suspended in the smokey darkness. A chill has picked up, but they agree they are too far up to walk down to the warmth of an inn. Instead, Wuxian whips out a talisman, mutters under his breath, and promptly sets a flame ablaze.
Wangji sits stiffly, posture straight as Wuxian reassures Xiao Ping Guo that morning and heat would soon arrive. The ground is rock hard and Wangji does not fancy having blades of grass in his hair. He would sleep sitting cross-legged. But of course, Wuxian lies down immediately about two feet from him.
“晚安”。Goodnight. Wuxian opens an eye, giving the impression of a jaunty wink, and smiles quizzically at Lanzhan.
“蓝湛啊，你这样坐太不舒服了！你躺下来吧”！ Lanzhan, the way you’re sitting is so uncomfortable! Just lie down! A noncommittal, strangled noise rises in Wangji's throat as Wuxian pats the ground beside him.
“不必”。No need. Wangji shuts his eyes in time to hear an exasperated sigh and the shuffling noise of Wuxian coming close. He feels a hand tug on his forearm.
“蓝湛。躺下来吧。我们现在都不在姑苏蓝氏，你怕什么”？Lanzhan. Just lie down. We aren’t even in Gusu Lan right now, what are you afraid of?
Wangji does not answer, afraid of what he might say. He is practically numb (though perhaps not with cold), the heat from Wuxian’s talisman burning out. Hesitantly, he lies down beside Wuxian, who chuckles and adjusts himself into a more comfortable position. Their sides bump together, and Wangji thanks his ancestors that the talisman’s dying light conceals the flush that he knows has crept onto his face and ears.
“蓝湛！你看，躺下来的时候你能看到这么多的星星。现在不后悔了吧”？Lanzhan! You see, you can see so many stars lying down. Bet you don’t regret it, eh? Wuxian’s voice is smug, and Wangji grudgingly admits that the stars are rather nice to look at.
“哎，你浪漫的思维都露出来了。有一天， 你带一个漂亮的姑娘到这里时，一定要谢我给你看星星的意见哦”。Hey, your romantic thoughts are being exposed. One day, when you bring a pretty lady here, you must thank me for giving you the idea of stargazing. Wuxian laughs at his own wisecrack, tendrils of hair drifting onto his face and tickling his cheekbones. He promptly stops and bites his lip when Wangji sends him a death glare. “蓝湛，我只是开玩笑，别这样看我吗”。 Lanzhan, I was only kidding, don’t look at me like that.
Wangji has never known a denser person to have ever walked this earth. Actually, Nie Huaisang comes to mind, but Wuxian undoubtedly comes in close second.
The air is becoming more and more frigid, and Wangji senses the slight trembling beside him. All those years ago, when Lan Qiren had forced him to kneel outside his hall in the winter, his body had acclimatised to subzero degree temperatures. But Wuxian is not immune. Shifting, Wangji begins to shed his outer robes.
“啊！蓝湛，你在干嘛呀”？Ah! Lanzhan, what are you doing? Wuxian cries out, sitting up and grabbing at his hands to stops them from taking apart his robe’s collar.
“你不习惯冷，必须盖着，不然会生病”。You’re not used to the cold, you need to cover up, or else you’ll get sick.
Wuxian shakes his head and gives him a grin. “你好贴心啊。不过真的不用了”。You’re so caring. But there’s really no need.
“魏婴”。Weiying. Wuxian withdraws at his stern tone and hums, before slowly smiling yet again as an idea strikes him. He pulls them both down, and if they weren’t touching before, they definitely were now, their arms overlapping. All he needed to do was curl his fingers and their hands would have been intertwined. Wangji's entire being tenses. Can he hear the ungainly thrumming of his blood as his heart works over time? Wuxian is unfazed, wriggling closer and burrowing into Wangji’s side for more body heat. His head is practically on his chest and Wangji stays as still as possible, willing himself not to put an arm around Wuxian, resisting the urge to feel his solid, reassuring warmth.
“蓝湛”。Lanzhan. Wuxian mumbles into his robes. Wangji looks down at him, all sleepy doe eyes and chapped lips, and feels something in his chest give way, not for the first time.
“何事”？What?
“谢谢你”。Thank you. Like a child, Wuxian hides his face in the fold of his white robes. “谢谢你一直相信我”。 Thank you for always believing in me.
So, Wangji mused, the one and only Yiling Patriarch, slayer of evil, Young Master of the great Jiang clan, and prodigy of demonic cultivation was embarrassed just for saying a sincere thank you.
It is wholly disarming.
Wangji cannot control himself this time, and puts his arm around him, cradling him close. He has officially broken at least twenty Gusu Lan rules since their little getaway began, but Wangji figures keeping count would not stop Lan Qiren from turning in his early grave anyway, and promptly decides not to care. Wuxian makes a surprised sound, before sighing. “你真的变了”。You’ve really changed.
"变好或坏“？ In a good or bad way?
"说不清“。Can't tell.
Only Wuxian could tease him in a moment like this one.
Wangji doesn’t feel the need to tell him that now, he is who he is because of him and him alone. Not because of Zewujun, not because of his mother, and not even because of his uncle. In due time, Wuxian would realise this. Wangji can only make a promise to himself that he would protect him until then.
“魏婴”。Weiying. Wuxian lets out a yawn. His eyelids drift shut, lashes long and stark against his pale skin. “晚安”。Goodnight.
Wangji does not register the unbidden smile he has had on his face the entire time. This seems to merely be another effect Wuxian has on him.
The night is silent, save for Wuxian’s quiet breathing, and Wangji thinks of how he had fought hard for Wuxian’s life before, and how he would gladly fight a thousand more times if it meant this moment would happen again, with or without Wangji present.
Alas, for the first time in sixteen years, when Wangji looks up at the silver moon like he has had countless nights before, it is not with pain when his thoughts drift as inevitably as the dawn of forever to a certain mischievous, charismatic warrior with magic as black as coal and a heart as bright as fire.