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Lan Wangji had thought simply allowing Wei Wuxian to accompany them to Biling lake would be the end of it. That alone should have been enough of a concession; it was enough of a blow to Lan Wangji’s pride to have his spoken wishes ignored. Enough for Lan Wangji to hold his brother in a cooler regard than usual. Lan Wangji quietly steeled himself against the inevitable annoyance Wei Wuxian would bring, telling himself that this was just another test of his self-restraint.
The other disciples, mostly former classmates of his brother, were distant enough from the inner clan itself that they hung back in respect, granting the Twin Jades some illusion of privacy with the students they had chosen to bring along, since this was apparently now a teaching experience.
They reached Caiyi town in the late afternoon. Lan Wangji was familiar enough with the commotion that the appearance of a group of cultivators caused to ignore it, as was proper. He held his head up and let the merchants and farmers stop their work to gawk as the cultivators glided into the town. Reactions diverged into hushes or excited chatter, depending on the onlookers.
There was only one inn large enough for the entire group. The innkeeper seemed hard at work; muttering quiet instructions as he hurriedly sent servants to open rooms. He bustled forward and saluted as the cultivators entered the main hall, welcoming them. His eyes widened slightly as his eyes traced the group, taking in the regal postures, the beauty, and the wealth of jewelry on display. His mental calculations buzzed, nearly audible in the airy wood and stone building.
Lan Wangji watched his brother negotiate without comment, wondering whether the current rush of work meant that the citizens hadn’t expected any cultivators to actually show up after the petition reached Cloud Recesses. That spoke, maybe too clearly, about the current status of the gentry sects in the eyes of the people.
“Our best rooms are two private pavilions in the back garden,” the innkeeper said, eyes flicking between the young masters but always drawn back to the red of the Wen sect robes, where they stood out like the threat of blood against the white of Gusu disciples. Fear made his voice tremble slightly, though he tried to hide it.
Lan Xichen nodded, his own thoughts veiled. “Lady Wen? You and Young Master Wen take one.” He paused. His eyes landed on Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s brow furrowed. Lan Xichen’s expression didn’t change, but he had that air about him that suggested he was about to do something for Wangji’s own good, which never bode well. “Young Master Jiang and I will take the other.”
Lan Wangji also let that sink in without comment. While Jiang Fengmian might not cede control of Lotus Pier to his son any time soon, as his elder brother and young master Jiang were future sect leaders, it wasn’t unexpected that they would get to know each other. Already, Xichen had close ties with Nie Mingjue, but he had been quietly weaving the other sects a little closer together, too. The threat of Wen Ruohan’s growing madness loomed in the back of everyone’s minds.
Jiang Wanyin turned to Wei Wuxian. His words were cut off as Wei Wuxian stepped back and looked from Jiang Wanyin to Lan Xichen and gave a little laugh, as if he was pretending to be nervous. He didn’t fool Lan Wangji. “Jiang Cheng, no worries, this humble cultivator can stay with the other disciples.” Lan Wangji watched as Jiang Wanyin hesitated, his familial loyalty deferring to an uneasy pride as a future leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. It was easy to read his face.
The innkeeper was sweating, his gaze darting between the powerful men and women in the group. “We have another suite above the main hall upstairs. Large. Two beds, with a desk.”
Unexpectedly, Lan Xichen turned to Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji followed his brother’s gaze with a sense of dread. While not from one of the inner clans himself, Wei Wuxian’s status as the head disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, as well as the reputation of his own power, often raised him to stand with the current generation of inner clan cultivators.
“Please, stay with Wangji upstairs, then.” Lan Xichen tilted his head slightly to the side, like it was the perfect answer.
Those words made the floor drop out from under Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji turned slowly. He set his jaw and he stared at his brother, who had just betrayed him. Again.
Lan Xichen ignored the glare, answering it with easy warmth and composure. Lan Wangji didn’t know what his older brother thought he saw in his expression, but apparently it wasn’t the annoyance that Wei Wuxian’s presence actually raised in his blood. Lan Xichen continued to smile benevolently. If Lan Xichen had read Lan Wangji correctly, he was having a silent laugh at his younger brother’s expense.
Ever since Lan Xichen had found a confidant in Nie Mingjue, he’d mistakenly decided his little brother was lacking in this, and had been pushing him to find the same sort of deep friendship. He’d been frustrating with his suggestions to look beyond the surface, in his inexorable drive to ensure Lan Wangji had friends.
But that wasn’t what Lan Wangji wanted—or needed—for himself.
The innkeeper bowed again, grabbing one of his housekeepers and ushering the man up the stairs.
Lan Wangji wondered if he should stay with the other disciples in protest. It would be unusual; his rank had kept him out of the group quarters in the Cloud Recesses throughout his life. While he didn’t particularly care that leaving Wei Wuxian alone would lead to gossip, it would feel like failing yet another test of his own resolve.
Cheerfully oblivious to the tension, Wei Wuxian pushed past Lan Wangji and headed up the stairs towards the room that Lan Xichen had just assigned them both too.
Lan Wangji tried to tell Xichen, silently, that he wouldn’t forget this slight. He curled his fingers more tightly around Bichen’s hilt.
For a heartbeat, he couldn’t force himself to follow Wei Wuxian up the stairs. He turned back to his brother instead. Lan Xichen blinked, surprised that Lan Wangji chose to ignore his words. It was the equivalent of causing a scene.
Silently, Lan Wangji tried to appeal to his brother’s sense of fairness. Fairness would have meant that he would stay with his brother, if anyone. Fairness would have meant that Lan Wangji would have had a quiet place to meditate, to actually get some rest and prepare for tomorrow.
But Lan Xichen had destroyed that with his five simple words.
Lan Xichen inclined his head, acknowledging Lan Wangji’s protest. However, it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t about to change his mind. He simply gestured up at Lan Wangji’s assigned room, the arc of his sleeve graceful and insistent.
The innkeeper interrupted their silent conversation, by inserting himself between them. Perhaps unintentionally. He led Lan Xichen out through the door to the back gardens, leaving the other disciples and servants to settle into the larger dormitory-style rooms on the main level.
Lan Wangji was forced to come to terms with his roommate for the overnight stay.
Lan Wangji reluctantly trailed behind Wei Wuxian and the housekeeper as Wei Wuxian loudly criticized the room, making himself at home in his typical, careless way. He’d just been released from three days of isolation, and there was no effect on his arrogance. Lan Wangji thinned his lips at the crudeness of it, the lack of decorum.
He settled himself at the desk, grasping at the distant hope that he’d be able to meditate and cultivate, to have something positive to show for the time the group apparently needed to spend in Caiyi town.
But spiritual power was slow to gather; his mind was too restless. He traced out mudras above his knees. Lan Wangji deliberately closed his eyes, trying to block out Xichen’s betrayal. Trying to block out his roommate.
It worked just as well in Caiyi town as it had worked in the Cloud Recesses.
Wei Wuxian occupied himself for all of the time it took for a single incense stick to burn.
“Wangji-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said, the name grating with a pleading sort of whine, as if he hadn’t yet realized Lan Wangji was being punished—for unknown reasons—by having to babysit him.
Lan Wangji felt a light tug against his sleeve. As if he hadn’t heard Wei Wuxian. As if that were the reason for his silence.
Lan Wangji’s eyes snapped open at the insolence. He felt the irritation carving out a home in his chest, threatening to leave him permanently hollow. He was only faintly reassured by the fact that his sword was next to him, properly, and Wei Wuxian’s had been left across the room, on one of the beds. Lan Wangji contemplated reaching for Bichen, reassuring himself with the sword’s icy presence, but he hesitated, knowing that the gesture would reveal too much.
Not for the first time, Lan Wangji wished there was a way to force some level of dignity from Wei Wuxian, but each time he’d tried, it was his own self-control that eroded, and Wei Wuxian was never affected.
If he was going to be like that here… “Leave me.” Lan Wangji forced himself to say calmly, keeping his tone measured. Over the course of the studies at Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji had endured too much to give Wei Wuxian the respect Xichen would expect from him. He didn’t want word to get back, to let his brother know just how irritated Lan Wangji was. It was embarrassing for a cultivator. Wei Wuxian was embarrassing.
“It was only sixteen li from Cloud Recesses,” Wei Wuxian gave a heavy sigh. He abandoned the bed and sprawled out on the other side of the desk again. “You can’t be tired already.” Even if they’d had to walk, as some of the cultivators didn’t have the reserves of spiritual energy to travel by sword the entire way.
A better man would have just ignored Wei Wuxian. But something inside of Lan Wangji drove him to react, to strike back. “I am not,” he said, keeping the syllables short and curt. Just what was necessary. He didn’t want to have a conversation.
Wei Wuxian leaned over the desk, so close that Lan Wangji could practically feel his body heat. Lan Wangji refused to open his eyes, refused to give Wei Wuxian that small win. “We should go have dinner in the town,” Wei Wuxian announced.
“Too early,” Lan Wangji countered, “and unnecessary.” The innkeeper would send food to the rooms, if they did wish to order something.
“A drink before dinner, then.”
“Don’t be foolish.” Lan Wangji slowly gave up on the idea of trying to cultivate with Wei Wuxian in the room.
Wei Wuxian gave another sigh, the sound of a long-suffering man. “So boring,” he muttered, not really bothering to keep the words under his breath. He pulled a coinpurse from his chest, and started tossing and catching it with one hand. It made a distracting sound. Like everything else that Wei Wuxian did, it was like sandpaper against Lan Wangji’s skin.
At some point, between watching the spinning violet purse and the way that Wei Wuxian smiled, Lan Wangji realized that he’d lost his self-imposed rule and had opened his eyes.
“What if someone in the town knows more about the water ghosts?” Wei Wuxian asked. His eyes were steady on Lan Wangji’s face, either intent on the idea or busy assessing how well his ploys were working. Because Lan Wangji was sure Wei Wuxian had other motivations. “We could talk to the fishermen…”
“Better to see for ourselves than to trust rumors,” Lan Wangji said tightly. He knew what they were there to deal with. Or at least, he knew as much as his elder brother had been told.
Wei Wuxian stopped the restless spinning of the purse, and brought his hand to his heart, as if the gesture alone could prove his sincerity. “What does cultivation mean to you, Lan Zhan?” he asked. “How can you defend the people if you keep yourself so far away from them?”
Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek. There was no way the sentiment behind that needling statement was pure. He shut his eyes and pretended that the humiliation of having Wei Wuxian dare to lecture him wasn’t affecting him. He could already feel the heat spreading out from his chest, and he could only pray that it wouldn’t reach his neck and betray his lack of composure.
“We should have gone on a Night Hunt tonight,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding serious.
Lan Wangji agreed. Superficially, he would have agreed to anything to avoid this arrangement. But more than that, from the sounds of the petitioners, the attacks were bold, and constant. Better to deal with the water ghosts quickly.
Wei Wuxian sighed again when he got no reply. Disappointment crept into his voice. “I’ll go find the other disciples. Maybe someone will be less boring than you.”
Lan Wangji could translate the intention. Wei Wuxian was going to go drink. As if by design, Wei Wuxian always seemed to shroud his moments of noble intentions with carefree hedonism.
Lan Wangji would not be goaded into action by Wei Wuxian’s childish insults. Not this time.
Wei Wuxian slid his hand across the desk, playfully nudging Lan Wangji with his knuckles. His cheeky grin was insuppressible as he slipped backwards, carefully out of the range of Bichen. “Come find me later,” he said, his conspiratorial wink verging dangerously towards flirtation. “I’ll help you pick out a replacement book for Nie-xiong.”
This time, Lan Wangji could feel his blush climb to his neck, strangling him with the remembered images. Lan Wangji glared until Wei Wuxian became a shadow behind the door, until his footsteps faded down the stairs.
Ignore him, Lan Wangji told himself, focusing on his breathing.
It wasn’t surprising that the room felt painfully empty and still. He should be grateful for the sudden peace. It had been what he wanted. Lan Wangji got up and shut the door, refusing to contemplate following Wei Wuxian. He could deal with the emptiness. But the creeping sense of loss that grew around his chest… That, Lan Wangji wasn’t sure how to deal with. A frown creased his forehead, and he swept his sleeves behind him as he sat back at the desk, trying to settle his mind and calm his body.
Frustratingly, meditation still eluded him.
The dusk gathered, bringing its own rhythm to the inn in Caiyi town: the rapid patter of footsteps, the servants bringing water, the sound of meals being delivered to the rooms in the hall below.
Giving up on his efforts to cultivate through meditation, Lan Wangji stood and headed to the window. Although the housekeeper had said that travelers were avoiding Caiyi, the town itself still was active in that cozy way that small towns had. Lan Wangji watched as clusters of the townsfolk gathered, running through what were obviously familiar routines: closing up shops, opening restaurants for the evening, lighting the lanterns on the streets.
There was a gentle knock at his door. Not Wei Wuxian returning, then.
“Come in.” Lan Wangji said softly.
He was not particularly surprised when Lan Xichen let himself in and walked over to the window, standing next to him and looking out. “You didn’t want to go out for dinner with the other cultivators?” his brother asked.
Lan Wangji hesitated. It wasn’t that, not in such a general way. Lan Wangji didn’t want to go out with Wei Wuxian, which was an entirely different thing. His elder brother’s tone hadn’t sounded critical though. Maybe surprised, maybe disappointed. Lan Wangji forced the muscles in his jaw to relax. “No,” he said. It was the simplest response, one that left his motivations vague.
Lan Xichen hummed, a gentle acknowledgment that didn’t really say anything at all. Lan Wangji turned away from the window.
“They’re all still in Gusu Lan white…” Lan Xichen said, and his words were light, sounding studiously unprompted. “I hope they don’t get into too much trouble.” His gaze drifted down the street, where the light from the open restaurants flooded warm yellows into the oncoming dusk.
It was only later that Lan Wangji wondered if his brother phrased it like that on purpose, to make Lan Wangji head out there with an excuse firmly in mind. An excuse that didn’t tread too closely to ‘lonely’.
The group of cultivators was not hard to find.
Even after he’d located the tavern, Lan Wangji hung back, quietly observing through the doors that had been thrown open to let the warm night air in. There was a line that had been drawn between him and others with the measured strokes and structures of Lan Qiren’s strict upbringing. Now, stepping across it seemed impossible.
On the other side of that line, Wei Wuxian glowed. He was in his element, entertaining the group with a story, hands arcing out a wild description. The disciples gathered around him, like they could absorb some of that vibrant charisma through proximity alone.
Lan Wangji stood as still as stone.
For a moment he wanted to be part of it. He was overcome by a sudden flare of wild, improbable jealousy for the cultivators that fell so easily around the table near Wei Wuxian. He tried to divert that angry heat, that want, tried to tame it back into the frustration he thought he knew how to handle.
Because this…
This made the floor feel like it was swaying below him, twisting his stomach into uncomfortable knots. It was almost too easy to picture himself there. Certainly, Wei Wuxian had encouraged it. Lan Wangji’s heart raced, fighting the tangle of dangerous thoughts.
Wei Wuxian’s enthusiasm bordered so close to mockery. His obvious need to capture Lan Wangji’s attention… was it possible he knew?
For a fleeting moment, Lan Wangji could almost see the scene play out.
That smile, that smile that could warm the room, turned to him alone. The story immediately forgotten. A familiarity—
But joining them would be an unspoken approval of Wei Wuxian’s careless manner, his disregard for rules. His unorthodox thoughts. It would be admitting that Lan Wangji wanted to be there, beside him. It would be risking his raw, innermost thoughts torn open and displayed.
There was a shaky moment before the choice was fully etched out in his mind, before the yearning could truly crystalize into existence.
In that pause, the chance slipped by.
One of the Gusu Lan cultivators laughed and turned away from the head of the table, covering his mouth as he tried to breath through the fit. He caught sight of Lan Wangji in the doorway. Immediately, eyes widened, and awareness passed around the table like a ripple over a pond. Small cups disappeared into sleeves, as if that would prevent the shame of a broken vow, as if Lan Wangji’s approval could mean more than their own lack of self-discipline.
He felt jolted back into reality, although he ensured his outward appearance didn’t so much as flicker. But Lan Wangji couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t join them. Not yet. The line between him and the others had been carved too deeply into his mind.
Lan Wangji shook his head slightly, and turned away from the scene before Wei Wuxian’s attention was drawn. He folded his arms behind his back and kept walking, as if that had been what he was doing the whole time. He felt pursued, agitated and restless, but no person followed him.
Blessedly alone when he finally made his way back to the inn, Lan Wangji dressed for bed, but he was hesitant to try to sleep. He’d been dreaming too much lately, too vividly. His dreams were humiliating. Depraved. Risking anyone overhearing anything from one of those dreams was enough to keep him awake. If he had one of those dreams, here, with Wei Wuxian… he refused to consider the possibility, or the consequences. It couldn’t happen.
Lan Wangji folded his arms across his chest and listened to the drone of the night insects rising from the nearby placid lake.
The moon rose higher, tracing cool paths across the floor of the room through the open window. It was already late. Past curfew, if he had been in the Cloud Recesses, but he could still hear the soft sounds of the town below the inn’s window, the small night market on a nearby sidestreet, the chatter of fishermen still heading out with their lanterns and nets despite the danger, their chatter and calls in the local dialect.
Lan Wangji wondered if Wei Wuxian would bother coming back at all, if he would be bold enough to spend the night with one of the women in town. In person, Lan Wangji had never seen him move past polite flirtations, despite his reputation. He supposed that meant little. Lan Wangji had really only known him for a handful of months, after all.
He told himself that the flush of anger that ran through him was just a response to the idea of that sort of conduct. It wasn’t jealousy.
He reminded himself of every rule the other cultivator had broken. Even that wasn’t quite enough to counter the gnawing dread inside him. He tried to hold on to the memories of his anger.
Because as irritating as Lan Wangji found him, Lan Wangji realized that Wei Wuxian’s charisma, his underlying, sometimes well-hidden, devotion to justice and righteousness, had drawn him in too, despite everything. And quite likely, had drawn him in deeper than Wei Wuxian would ever—could ever—know.
It was much later when he woke to the sound of the door sliding open. Not quite early enough to wake up on his own, but those hazy hours of the middle of the night. Late enough that his body had traded meditation for sleep. With a swallow, Lan Wangji welcomed the disturbance, felt relief that the vague impressions of bodies, of hands, had been shattered by the gentle click of the door sliding shut, the soft shuffle of footsteps. Wei Wuxian carried his boots, moving near-silently across the wooden floor.
Dull thuds marked heavy jars being set down, and he heard what he could only hope was water being poured. Lan Wangji gave up on the idle hope that sleep would reclaim him quickly and peacefully, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
The draped fabric curtains did a poor job of separating Lan Wangji’s bed from the rest of the room. The gauzy material softened Wei Wuxian’s outlines, made him seem slightly less real. For a dream-dulled moment, the white robes of a student gave him the appearance of being part of the Lan sect. His movements still seemed confident, but, then again, that meant little, as he’d seen Wei Wuxian maintain his coordination after several jars of wine.
Wei Wuxian tossed his drink back and set the cup down. He dropped his boots near the other bed.
Lan Wangji should have looked away, but he didn’t. Not when Wei Wuxian’s belt followed the boots, not when his outer robe dropped in a pale puddle at his feet.
He was cognizant enough to realize that Wei Wuxian’s messiness should irritate him, but he didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. It was too late at night, he told himself, hearing the excuse for what it was. But he felt hazy, not himself, like this was still one of his troubling dreams. Later, he’d tell himself that if it had gone farther, he would have turned away. He wanted to believe that it was the truth.
Wei Wuxian untied his hair, letting it fall loose down his back as he headed to the basin to wash his face. The transformation was hypnotizing. He looked so relaxed, so unconstrained. It felt hauntingly intimate to see him like that. The unfamiliarity of the situation distracted Lan Wangji, made him lose his self-awareness for a few crucial moments.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
Lan Wangji froze. Wei Wuxian did too, holding the towel half-raised to dry his face.
Lan Wangji had thought, vaguely, that the darkness would hide him. It didn’t. It was too late to pretend he was sleeping. He didn’t bother trying to explain or hide. It was almost too easy to let his expression hint at disapproval, holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze as the moments slipped past.
Wei Wuxian broke the stare with a grin. His expression wasn’t the least bit subdued by the late hour, nor by the lack of any audience other than Lan Wangji. In a disturbing twist of déjà vu, that smile struck Lan Wangji like an echo, reminding him a faint, troubling impression recalled from his dream.
“Did I wake you?” Wei Wuxian asked softly, doing little more than mouthing the words into the mirror.
Lan Wangji didn’t bother with an answer, shifting his gaze to the ceiling instead. He heard Wei Wuxian set the towel down and approach Lan Wangji’s bed. Slightly alarmed, Lan Wangji sat up, propping himself up on his elbows in an aborted attempt to get away. He froze when Wei Wuxian plopped himself down on the edge of the hard bed.
A frown settled more firmly into Lan Wangji’s features. “We are battling water ghosts tomorrow,” he said.
Wei Wuxian leaned back. “But not tonight!” he said lightly. “Tonight we had Caiyi-town.” Lan Wangji could feel Wei Wuxian’s weight pinning the blanket tightly across his leg. “Or, we could have had Caiyi-town,” Wei Wuxian corrected himself, tilting his head and grinning at Lan Wangji, teasing rather than reproachful.
Lan Wangji shifted away, trying to be discreet about it. He wanted to recoil away from the touch, terrified that his unwilling, unwanted responses would reveal too much.
Wei Wuxian, of course, took the movement as permission to settle in. He swung his legs up, and leaned against the wooden arm at the foot of the bed. He faced Lan Wangji, his hip firmly pressing into Lan Wangji’s calf.
“Jiang Cheng and I used to sleep like this some nights,” he said, his smile softening. His eyes were bright with reflected moonlight. Lan Wangji wasn’t sure how much of it was the alcohol, and how much was Wei Wuxian’s own mischievous nature.
Wei Wuxian stretched his leg along Lan Wangji’s side. He was too close to the foot of the bed to truly lay down, but didn’t bother to sink lower, not yet threatening to actually try to sleep toe-to-head in the same bed. That didn’t stop Lan Wangji’s heart from racing.
“I’d put my feet in his face and he’d try to smother me in the blankets.” Wei Wuxian laughed softly at the memories, shaking his head. He winked at Lan Wangji, tapping his nose conspiratorially. “I’m hoping he forgets that, as the future sect leader.” He looked absently over in the direction of the gardens, at the wall that divided the two of them from their brothers.
He shifted his weight, and Lan Wangji decided then and there that if Wei Wuxian did put his feet any closer to his face, he would be fine with grabbing the back of his robes, marching him into Lan Xichen’s room, waking up his brother and demanding that Jiang Wanyin deal with Wei Wuxian instead. Since, apparently, he’d had the practice.
Lan Wangji didn’t envy him.
His traitorous heart rebelled, refusing to let him have even that comforting lie. Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, trying to feel irritation rather than focusing on the press of Wei Wuxian’s leg against his side. “Go to sleep,” Lan Wangji commanded.
Wei Wuxian shifted his weight from side to side, and gave a pout. It was for show. “What would you do if I slept right here?” he said, a bit of a challenge creeping into the words.
Lan Wangji let his gaze shift significantly to the other bed, next to the discarded trail of clothing. “I would move,” he said firmly.
Wei Wuxian’s sigh was heavy, theatrical, and utterly wasted on Lan Wangji.
"Did you and your brother ever share a bed?” There was something wistful in Wei Wuxian’s voice. He spread his leg slightly, hitting his knee into Lan Wangji’s side.
“No.” Lan Wangji cut him off. He tried to ignore the feeling of Wei Wuxian so close to him; wanted to both block it out and remember each touch. His turmoil grew. The melancholy feeling; the memories of being young and isolated and having to rely only on himself… it was in sharp contrast to the heat and weight of Wei Wuxian next to him. “We need to be awake in a few hours,” he said, trying to reclaim some command of the situation. It felt desperate, slipping through his fingers.
Wei Wuxian smiled, though his expression was softer than before, more contemplative. “I know. I’ll be fine. I don’t need to sleep that much anyway.”
It was another moment before he apparently considered Lan Wangji’s needs too, and relented.
He gave a tight smile, and dropped his hand onto Lan Wangji’s leg.
Lan Wangji’s heart paused, skipped a beat, then raced to make up for it.
Wei Wuxian’s eye contact was intense. Lan Wangji refused to move under the scrutiny, uncertain how to acknowledge the touch. Ignoring it felt safest. For a moment it looked as if Wei Wuxian was going to say something else, something serious. For a dizzying moment, Lan Wangji wondered if he’d been seen earlier, outside the tavern. He wondered what Wei Wuxian knew.
Instead of any of that, Wei Wuxian just said softly, “Good night, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji could only blame being overtired, half-flustered by the directions his traitorous mind was flinging itself in. He’d intended to keep insisting on proper courtesy names, wanted to ward off this uneasy closeness before it grew any more confusing. He meant to place an emphasis on Wei Wuxian’s birth name, perhaps surprising Wei Wuxian into realizing his own rudeness, to make him reconsider his bold assertion of closeness. But instead, his words came out just as simple, just as soft, as Wei Wuxian’s had. “Good night, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile flared to brilliant life, threatening to char the room around them with its warmth.
Lan Wangji caught himself before merely looking at Wei Wuxian could call an answering smile to his lips. He forced his face to stay cool. He had practice at that, after all.
Wei Wuxian inclined his head, shut his eyes, and, by the grace of whatever spirits were watching over them, didn’t comment further, content with his small, empty victory. His fingers tightened briefly on Lan Wangji’s leg, but he just rose and headed back over to the other side of the room.
Lan Wangji slowly began to breathe again. His heart was still racing, pounding too fast. The soft sound of breathing, of someone else in the room, shifting against the other bed left him unable to relax.
He touched his own side absently, putting pressure where Wei Wuxian had drawn lines of heat against his body, creating a hollow echo of his touch.
He lay awake until the first rays of dawn lightened the horizon, spilling into the room. By the time the morning fully broke, he was convinced that he could hide his feelings, suppress them like an unwanted ghost.
Much later, he’d realize he was wrong.