Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wangji. Relax.”

He tears his eyes away from the shifting greens and golds of the forest, and spares a glance for his brother - Xichen offers a smile, his fingers on the steering wheel tapping out the rhythm of the peppy song that plays quietly on the radio.

“I’m fine,” Wangji protests, and Xichen chuckles.

“Sure you are. Don’t worry so much, we’ve got this.”

Perfectly silently, he wonders if he’s really become so transparent - but then again, Xichen has always needed only to take one look at him to know. If anything, I should be the one reassuring you, he means to say, but doesn’t. Just as well as his older brother knows him, so, too, does Wangji know Xichen, knows that they’re both feeling the same way.

This time around, it really is just the two of them, and they both wish their prospects were just a little bit brighter.

“Ah, here we are.” The smile, always audible in Xichen’s voice, turns into a grin, and Wangji’s heart swells at the sight before them - their car rattles down the forest path until it passes a tall wooden gate, its wings flung open, and Wangji almost wishes Xichen would slow the jeep down, so he might lean out of the window and look up, just like he used to do when they were children, crane his neck as they passed underneath the broad pine beams, until he could read the words engraved in them.

Welcome to-

“Welcome home,” Xichen offers instead, and Wangji does reciprocate his smile then, letting out a heavy sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“The others are already here,” he observes, and Xichen nods.

“Some of them. Huaisang arrived yesterday. The Wens have been here a couple of days. We’re still waiting on Mianmian, and Jiang Cheng, of course.”

“Mm,” Wangji affirms - he did everything in his power to try and leave earlier, to be there for the crucial first couple of days and help Xichen with the preparations, but the idea that the semester should have ended weeks ago didn’t seem to reach quite a number of his professors, and he was stuck in the city until today.

“And the new ones?” he remembers to ask, even though he hardly wants to know the answer - the thought of having to meet strangers, having to teach them the ropes around Gusu only to watch them leave again at the end of the summer, doesn’t really appeal to him.

“Just the one. You’ll see,” Xichen says casually, and Wangji doesn’t feel like pressing the issue any further - it’s weighing on both of them enough as it is.

They’re a couple of people short compared to last year, and if this were like any other year, Wangji wouldn’t have a problem with Xichen hiring new counsellors, random people who answer an ad online, come riding in full of ideas, and motivation, and never quite end up fitting in. If this were like any other year, he wouldn’t feel quite as protective over the very idea of Gusu being taken lightly by people who haven’t spent years, their entire lives, here, like Xichen and him have, but... Things change, Xichen always says, and this really isn’t like any other year.

Wangji will just have to work extra hard to glare whoever joins the fray this time into submission, to make sure everything goes according to plan.

Such a traditionalist, that’s another thing his older brother always says - such a traditionalist, Wangji, even though he himself isn’t any better. For both of them, keeping Gusu afloat even after... everything, is the most important thing they’ll do over the course of these next weeks, and Wangji will allow nothing and no one to jeopardize that.

As things stand, they barely have a day left to finish up before the children start arriving, but already, he can feel some weight dropping off his shoulders the closer Xichen drives them to the heart of the resort. Soon enough, the first roofs of their cabins start peeking out between the trees, and before he knows it, Xichen’s jeep is coming to a halt before the main lodge, and Wangji feels, plainly put, happier than he’s been all year. 

“We’re here,” his brother announces a bit pointlessly, and Wangji only smiles, his enthusiasm briefly getting the better of him - he all but jumps out of the car, inhaling lungfuls of that fresh forest air, and all his worries, the stress of academia as well as just generally trying to make ends meet for the entire rest of the year that isn’t summer at Gusu, it all fades away in an instant - this, this is where he’s supposed to be, where he is permitted to feel truly, fully like himself, if even for a couple of weeks. This is home.

“I think I smell lunch,” Xichen grins, “I’ll go check inside. Come find us when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Wangji nods, and then, because his brother really does know him best, he’s allowed to wander - the time to greet everyone will come later. Right now, he just wants to soak up the feeling of being here again.

The campsite is all but ready, the pathways swept clean, the windows of all the cabins wide open to let the fresh air in, the tents where the oldest children will sleep erected in their usual neat semi-circle in the back near where the waters of the lake glimmer in the morning sun, the sports field pristine and freshly mowed... It’s as if they all left yesterday, and Wangji’s nostalgia mingles with joy in his mind, in that particularly potent combination he only ever feels when he’s here.

It’s times like these, the fresh fragrance of pines putting his very mind at ease, that he always asks himself why they even leave this place at the end of summer, when they could just stay here for good.

“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t our own Young Master Lan!”

Wangji chuckles - there’s only one person in the world who could make that ridiculously over the top honorific sound that fond - and turns around to see the old groundskeeper approaching, arms full of what looks like an assortment of old fishing poles.

“Wen-laoshi, ” he greets Uncle Four with the same amount of stiff respect he’s just been afforded, like the man didn't know him in diapers, and receives a scowl and a very judgmental once-over in return.

“That how they teach you to talk at that university of yours?” the old man complains, blissfully oblivious to the fact that he seems to age about a decade for every year Wangji doesn’t see him, “I still remember a time I was the taller one, boy. How have you been? How have you been?”

Gently prying the old man’s baggage from his arms, Wangji catches him up on anything and everything he can think of as they slowly walk towards the main lodge, and by the time he’s helping him put the poles away in the hallway, he thinks he just might be ready to meet everyone else.

“Wangji-xiong ! Finally!”

And a good thing, too, because the second Nie Huaisang spots him, there’s no escaping anymore.

“You’re finally here! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages! Er-Ge says you’re doing so good at school! Did you actually get even taller? Oh my god, have you heard who’s coming as Senior Counsellor this year?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Wangji suffers the onslaught of that litany fairly well, he thinks - and then what Huaisang is really saying finally catches up with him. “Wait. No, I haven’t. Who’s coming?”

Huaisang’s eyes grow about three sizes and he opens his mouth to respond, but the cook pokes her head out of the dining hall, loudly declaring: “Lunch is ready! Oh- Zhanzhan! You’re here!”

And before Wangji can get an answer to his question, he’s subject to physical affection from possibly the only person in the world who never seemed to get the memo that he... doesn’t really enjoy it all that much. But, he’s reminded again as Granny Wen drags him to the kitchen to feed him, followed by loud declarations of what the hell have you been eating all year, grass?! Xichen, what have you been feeding him, he’s practically see-through!, that he doesn’t even mind all that much, just this once. These people aren’t some random strangers he wants to avoid interacting with at all costs - they are familiar faces, comfortably familiar, and it takes him the entirety of about a minute to relax around them, even though they all seem to want to ask him half a dozen questions at the very same time.

They eat lunch sitting smooshed around one small table out of the dozen in the room - Granny Wen was right, Wangji has been eating very lightly all year long, and his stomach will need some time to get accustomed to her hearty cooking over the summer - as Xichen and Uncle Four recount everything that still needs to be done before the children start arriving tomorrow, and Huaisang babbles about a mile a minute about this or that activity he’s got planned that the kids are bound to love...

The Wen siblings join them about halfway through, Wen Qing unceremoniously shoving Huaisang over to be able to sit next to Wangji, and the rollercoaster of questions resumes, but he finds he’s actually looking forward to answering them, and asking some of his own.

“Still sure you want to be a lawyer?” Wen Qing prods at him gently, and she might very well be the only person in the world who’s allowed to ask him that, or more likely simply doesn’t care about being allowed things, and asks anyway.

“Yes,” Wangji says, not without the smallest hint of a smile, “still sure you want to be a doctor?”

“Yeah, seems like it. Who else would spend weeks at a time patching you lot up?” she rolls her eyes, “especially this year, oh my god.”

“How do you mean?” Wangji inclines his head, and she frowns at him.

“Did Xichen not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Wangji demands, glancing over at his brother, currently halfway through losing an argument with Uncle Four about the state of their canoes, and when he looks back to Wen Qing, she’s watching him with what almost looks like amusement.

“Oh boy,” she rests her chin on her hand, “this ought to be good. Xichen- xiong!”

“Huh?” Xichen raises his head, his and all other conversations around the table successfully quelled, “what did I do?”

“It’s more about what you didn’t do,” Wen Qing’s smile has that wolfish quality to it that usually means she’s really enjoying herself, “you neglected to inform your poor baby brother that you hired Wei Wuxian to be a Senior Counsellor this year?”

To his credit, Wangji chokes on the last bite of Granny Wen’s rice only a little bit.

Sixteen Years Old

“You don’t actually have to be here.”

To that, Wangji doesn’t reply, only moves out of the way as Wei Ying stomps past him, pulling yet more of his clothes out of the dresser, tossing them in the vague direction of his bag.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he continues, "I know it’s my fault, and I know I deserve it, and I know Lan Qiren is right. There, did your job for you. You can run off now.”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji tries, but the right words, whatever they are, if any even exist for this situation, elude him.

“It’s fine, really,” Wei Ying rakes his hand through his hair, offering a slightly manic grin, “got the rest of the summer off! That’s great, right? I can do whatever the hell I want now! No one’s going to wake me up at six thirty to make breakfast for a hundred people anymore. I see that as a win.”

“Wei Ying,” he makes another attempt, and the words sound empty before they even leave his mouth, “there’s always next year.”

At that, Wei Wuxian laughs, more like a full-on cackle, but it rings impossibly hollow. He stops his frantic packing for a moment, his back turned to Wangji, and the tension in his shoulders is way too obvious.

“There’s no next year, Lan Zhan,” he says coolly, “what, you think your Uncle will just let me waltz back here like nothing ever happened?”

“I could...” Wangji starts, but knows finishing that sentence is pointless anyway. 

Could what? Talk to Lan Qiren? And say what, exactly? Please reconsider? Please let him stay?

If he doesn’t come back next year, I don’t think I can, either?

“It’s okay,” Wei Ying mumbles, uncharacteristically softly, and he affords Wangji a smile that never reaches his eyes. “It’s been fun, Lan Zhan, but let’s face it - there’s no way I’m ever stepping foot in Gusu again.”

“Wei Ying,” he tries again, one last time, despite his better judgment, and his hand on Wei Wuxian’s wrist surprises both of them - they stare down at the point of connection between them like they’re both seeing Wangji’s fingers for the first time, and before long, Wei Ying sighs, and his smile is even bitterer than before.

“Lan Zhan,” he says his name like he’s always said it, like a reminder and a taunt at the same time - look at you. Look at what you’re doing. “Just go, alright? Just go.”

And he does - because what else is there to do, really - and if he ends up regretting it later, well, that’s between him and that emptiness already settling in his gut.

“Xichen,” Wangji says, slowly looking up from his bowl, very aware that everyone’s eyes are on him now, “what?”

“Alright, here’s the thing-” his older brother has the decency to look at least a little bit bashful.

“We’re here!”

That comes from the hallway, and even though it’s Mianmian’s voice, Wangji’s blood freezes in his veins.

“Xichen,” he repeats, almost desperately, but everyone else clearly sees the opportunity to leave this particular situation, and they all grab it at once, standing up and hurrying into the hallway.

“Wangji, listen,” Xichen sighs, already standing up himself, “I wanted to tell you, but-”

“Holy shit, this place hasn’t changed a bit!”

Heartburn, Granny Wen’s rice is giving him heartburn, it must be - that voice, he recognizes far too well, even among the cacophony of them coming from outside the dining hall now, but he can’t stop glaring at Xichen, who’s looking more and more like he’s regretting several of his choices up until this point.

“Wei Wuxian,” Wangji says slowly, “you hired Wei Wuxian to be a Senior Counsellor.”

“I did,” his brother smiles, like that helps anything at all, “come on, let’s say hello. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

And without actually doing that, without explaining a damn thing, he, too, hurries to greet the newcomers, leaving Wangji sitting alone at the table, wondering at which point exactly did he start losing his mind.

It’s not like he can just stand up, walk out there, and say hello to Wei Wuxian, of all people - the very thought of it makes his stomach perform a series of nauseating somersaults. He can’t just... It’s been years, and Wangji can feel himself getting angry.

It’s been years, and in those years, it was like Wei Wuxian didn’t even exist - his brother, who’s probably definitely standing in the hallway with him, he kept coming back, but did Wangji ever find it within him to ask Jiang Cheng how Wei Wuxian was doing? No. Did he ever reply to a single one of the postcards Wei Ying kept sending him, time and time again, from a dozen different cities, scribbled in a dozen different shades of ink, smudged, embellished with a silly drawing or five? Also no, and when he eventually stopped getting them, he thought, figures.

Did he still hope that maybe, one day... Okay, maybe let’s not go there right now.

His legs the heaviest they’ve felt in a long, long time, Wangji stands up and drags himself towards his inevitable fate - they really are all there now, one big huddle of very loud people in the hallway, and it’s Mianmian, still shorter than everyone by a good head, who spots him first.

“Ji-xiong! ” she exclaims, and Wangji is so dazed he allows her to hug him, fortunate that she remembers not to linger, holding him at arm’s length instead, looking him up and down like she’s checking for cracks.

“Stop getting taller,” she accuses him.

“You’re the one getting shorter,” Jiang Cheng pipes up, giving Wangji a cursory nod while also trying to wrangle Huaisang at the same time. “Hey,” he huffs, which, in his world, passes for a warm welcome, and neither of them would have it any other way.

“Hello,” Wangji manages, craning his neck to see, but there’s a distinct lack of a certain someone - good, maybe Wangji just imagined it, and everything will be alright.

“Lan Zhan.”

Or maybe not.

Wei Wuxian literally descends from up high to greet him - more like he skids to a halt at the top of the rickety old stairs leading up to the second floor, and Wangji looks up, and he looks down, but time still stops, and it still feels stupidly momentous.

In many ways, he’s still the scrawny sixteen-year-old he was when they saw each other last, his face, his entire demeanor, impossible not to recognize, but in many other, vastly interesting ways, he’s thoroughly different. He was already on his way to being far too tall for his own good, even as a teenager, but the past five years have broadened his shoulders and sharpened his eyes - his hair is still a mess, shoulder long and pulled away from his face in an approximation of some sort of horrendously flattering half bun, which is doing his cheekbones a world of favors-

“Still with the death glare, huh? Set me on fire where I’m standing, why don’t you!”

And alright, clearly he’s still the same Wei Ying.

“You’re here,” Wangji says, in a display of some truly scathing commentary, and Wei Wuxian tries to match his death glare, a very valiant attempt for someone with a face as animated as him, and gives up about three seconds later, bursting into laughter.

“I’m here, I’m here! If you can believe it. How have you been?”

His brain largely on autopilot at this point, Wangji opens his mouth to reply, but abruptly stops himself - how have you been? Oh, there’s no way Wei Wuxian gets to just ask that so casually, appearing out of the blue after years apart, like he’s on a mission to remind Wangji that he’s forgotten, somehow, along the way, what sunshine feels like.

How has he been?! Perfectly fine, up until right now.

He doesn’t really register himself responding beyond a very vague grunt of some sort, and then he turns on his heel and marches outside, decidedly away from this entire situation, and marches fast, before his meticulously constructed ice-cold expression crumbles to dust.

Because beneath that, beneath the irritation and confusion, both feelings he’s perfectly capable of expressing richly and freely, there hides something else entirely - it speaks with the voice of sixteen-year-old Wangji, the Wangji from five years ago, the Wangji who was stupid enough once to utter the words 'Come back'  out loud, and foolish enough to expect any sort of answer... It speaks with that voice, and it sounds excited.

Chapter Text

From: JC

10:04

you still lookin for a job

To: JC

10:10

idk what u got

From: JC

10:11

senior counsellor at gusu

To: JC

10:11

LMAO WHAT

GUSU

you mean the place thats got 3000 rules just for like breathing the right way

no thank you lol

isn’t old guy lan still in charge he’ll kill me if he sees me

From: JC

10:14

you’re an idiot

also no he’s not actually. lan xichen is. we’re a guy short. pretty good money WHICH I KNOW YOU NEED

To: JC

10:15

doesn’t it start in like a couple of days wtf

From: JC

10:16

yeah monday. you’re basically homeless it’s not like you’re very busy

To: JC

10:16

wow. you’re doing such a good job selling me this

From: JC

10:17

STFU

Shijie is sending a-ling. She’s gonna come visit too

To: JC

10:17

ooh so she DID put you up to this

From: JC

10:18

whatever. it’s six weeks of regular meals and a roof over your head. up to you

To: JC

10:25

[Draft]

is lan zhan going to be there

Calling JC...

It’s kind of unfortunate, Wangji decides - he’s going to have to kill his brother, and the camp hasn’t even properly started yet.

“Wangji,” Xichen has the gall to sound amused as he runs after him out of the lodge, “hold on just a minute, will you?”

“Hm,” he grunts, “I’m going to go unpack.” 

“Wangji,” Xichen is laughing - laughing?! - now, “it’s going to be fine, I promise you. You two are not sixteen anymore.”

Could have fooled me.

“Mm,” Wangji comments instead, glad he somehow had the wherewithal to snatch the keys to his cabin before running away from all those people - Xichen trots by his side now, but fortunately he’s the only one who thinks to follow. Wangji doesn’t know what he would do if he saw Wei Wuxian chasing after him.

“And he’s actually very good at what he does,” his brother continues his pointless sell, “I checked! He’s been working with children for a couple of years now, and...”

Wangji can feel something rising within him, something ancient and stale, halfway between anger and irritation.

“Unlock the car, please,” he says icily, and Xichen sighs, oh come on, but complies.

One by one, Wangji starts pulling his luggage out of the jeep’s trunk - he only ever slows down when extracting his guitar case, taking care not to bump it, and when he’s all unloaded, Xichen is looking at him with his arms crossed over his chest, still smiling.

“Need some help with that?” he cocks one eyebrow, and Wangji very nearly scowls at him like they are, in fact, still in their teens.

“No thank you,” he declares, and sets off in the direction of his cabin, his refuge, his little corner of peace and solitude - once he closes its doors behind himself, surely he will have time to collect his thoughts, or alternatively wake up from this particularly messed up nightmare.

“Wei Wuxian is staying, Wangji,” Xichen matches his tempo effortlessly, “we’re lucky that he even agreed to come in the first place. We need someone to watch over the older kids with you-”

“Hold on,” Wangji stops abruptly, the heavy bag slung over his shoulder hitting the ground with a thud, “hold on.”

Again, Xichen has the courtesy to look at least a little bit ashamed of himself, but it’s hardly enough, considering how fast Wangji is losing all solid ground beneath his feet.

“You didn’t,” he manages weakly, and Xichen opens his mouth, then closes it again, like a fish out of water.

“You didn’t,” Wangji repeats, but it’s more than obvious that Xichen did.

“Wangji, you can’t supervise over twenty children on your own, you know this-” he tries, but Wangji isn’t listening anymore - Wangji is, in fact, trying very hard not to hear one more word that comes out of his brother’s mouth.

The familiar slanted roof of his little cabin finally comes into view, and he all but runs towards it like the finish line of a marathon - his temples are starting to throb, and if he doesn’t get some peace and quiet yesterday, he’s going to jump out of his own skin.

“I’m sorry,” Xichen tries again, catching up with him on the cramped veranda, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I only learned a couple of days ago that he was even available, and I was so relieved that-”

“Relieved,” Wangji scoffs, “you do remember how many rules he broke the last time he was here.”

“Yes, I remember,” Xichen chuckles, “but it’s been years.”

“Not long enough,” Wangji retorts, and Xichen laughs, again, like this is all just a big joke to him. Like Wei Wuxian’s very presence in Gusu doesn’t mean something, somewhere will definitely burn down at some point in the very near future.

“I have faith in him,” his older brother shrugs, “but more importantly, I have faith in you. You used to like him, I seem to remember.”

Wangji opens his mouth to protest, and vehemently at that, but he doesn’t know what bothers him more - that Xichen has been taking such liberties when it comes to testing his limits, or that the word like is so hilariously inadequate a descriptor.

“I’ll be in here,” he says instead, voice unwavering, “come find me when you need me again.”

“Wangji-” Xichen almost looks like he’s going to press him some more, but then he decides against it, thank god. “Fine. Come back in an hour, I have some things I need everybody to help out with.”

“Uh-huh,” Wangji nods, pushes past his brother and inside the cabin, and then he’s finally, finally alone.

Contrary to all the other things his head is suggesting he do, he really does unpack, willing some sense of peace back into his mind with every meticulous movement, every piece of clothing put away in the ancient dresser under the window, every book lined up atop it. Every detail of his sparse surroundings is so familiar to him, so cozy in its own understated way, that by the time he’s pulling out his guitar and sitting down cross-legged on his bed, he’s almost succeeded at convincing himself he’s dreamt it all.

Surely there’s no way in hell Xichen would allow Wei Wuxian within a hundred miles of Gusu, and there’s absolutely no way he’d even think of charging Wangji and him with overseeing the same age group, meaning they would have to spend copious amounts of time together in the coming weeks, working to create activity after activity to keep a gaggle of teenagers in high spirits every single day...

It’s no use. His fingers can’t seem to find the proper melody, the guitar resisting all of his attempts at playing something that would in any way soothe him, and no matter how hard he tries, he keeps drifting back to that irreverent grin, those dark eyes that lit up like fireworks when they saw him-

I’m here, I’m here! If you can believe it.

Wangji can’t believe it, but that apparently doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to have to deal with it.

He stalks the campsite like half a dozen Wei Wuxians might jump out at him from behind every tree and ask him about his life’s decisions, but everyone including the one person he means to avoid is apparently busy with whatever tasks Xichen has prepared for them, for now.

Fortunately, Wangji himself still has some time before he absolutely has to exist in anyone else’s eyes again, and so he wanders, yet again - by this time tomorrow, the forest will have filled with a hundred chattering voices, laughter and shouting, and as it is right now, peaceful, quiet, calm, it feels almost surreal. It’s always different with the children around, even after they go to sleep, or early in the morning before they wake up - they could all be absolutely silent, but their very presence brings everything back to life.

And so, knowing full well this is probably the very last moment of peace and quiet Wangji will get for a very long time, he needs to come up with a way to savor it - briefly, he considers finding Xichen and asking him to go up the hill now, but that tradition doesn’t bear breaking, no matter how Wangji would like to open the door to his childhood home right now, and hide within it for a while, at least.

His feet still carry him in that direction more or less unwittingly, up the winding, crooked path through the thickest forest, where the children rarely go - he’s walked it so many times he could probably do it blindfolded, and as such, he keeps his eyes pointed upward, where the treetops form a web, their edges following each other perfectly, but never quite touching.

Crown shyness, he’s going to explain to the youngest children a couple of days from now, and they’re going to point and laugh, trees can’t be shy, what are they shy of!, but some of them will come back, and some of them will even remember.

He thinks it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, at first - he’s almost sure the melody starts in his head, but then it’s out there somewhere as well, coming from a direction that’s difficult to discern at first, and Wangji freezes.

They are not, contrary to his expectations, the high-pitched, keening tones of a very familiar harmonica, not quite - it sounds almost amateurish, like someone just plucked a blade of grass and started playing it... But his traitorous heart still leaps up against his ribcage.

He scans the undergrowth for a flicker of a color that doesn’t belong, then follows the sound on instinct alone - and honestly, what the hell. Who the hell does he think he is, coming back here after years and years, not even bringing his subpar little instrument with him...

And then Wangji sees him, and all rational thought promptly abandons him for dead.

“So, uh... is he single?”

“Wei Wuxian!”

The reaction to that perfectly innocent question brings about as much violence as he’d expected - Jiang Cheng’s elbow in his ribs, that he can evade, but he’s thoroughly forgotten just how vicious Wen Qing can be, and the slap upside his head really connects.

“Ouch, Jesus,” he laughs, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Behave yourself,” Wen Qing scolds him, and that, at least, hasn’t changed a bit - he’s been back all of five minutes, but the realization that people remember him, and are actually glad to see him? Although some show it like Wen Qing does, by swearing to quietly murder him in his sleep if he causes trouble again? Pretty astonishing.

As for how some others react... well, he supposes he deserved that - absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head, he follows everyone into the dining hall, no matter how much he’d rather be running after Lan Zhan right now.

In his defense, his good judgement probably abandoned him the second he agreed to come back to Gusu in the first place - the drive here was a blur of pestering Jiang Cheng and Mianmian with endless questions, only about half of which got a satisfactory answer, and then there was the feeling of something long forgotten and very well buried unspooling somewhere deep in his chest when they drove up to the gate welcoming them here, and the rest...

Nothing has changed here, and the realization is simultaneously comforting and scary - if anything, the cabins might be a little more run down, the forest a little thicker, but the scent of wood and pine resin remains the same, as does the ancient signpost smack in the middle of the square in front of the main lodge, where they would always line up in more or less neat rows every damn morning...

The decorations on the walls inside are still there, the old fraying map of the resort and the grounds surrounding it, the fading photographs, the board with the keys to all the cabins, empty spaces where everyone’s names will be written and rewritten a dozen times in dusty chalk over the summer...

The people, those, too - Lan Qiren retired a couple of years ago, that much Wei Wuxian manages to learn, although as to why, well, that remains a mystery. Lan Xichen really is in charge, but when Wei Wuxian recalls the people who used to, and still should be, standing by his side, he only meets with a dismissive ‘Long story’ from his brother, and a somewhat nervous ‘I’ll tell you later’ from Nie Huaisang...

And then he sees Lan Zhan, and gets smacked in the face with a cold shoulder of truly epic proportions within about thirty seconds of meeting him, and he decides that yeah, some things never change.

“So,” he asks, legs dangling off the table he’s lounging on, “tell me about the rules. I can drink now, right?”

“If you have a death wish,” Wen Qing nods casually, shoving him aside with surprising strength, “sign this. Here and here.”

“What, did I just sign my soul over to you?” he jokes, scribbling his name only lazily, “what are these for?”

“If you kill a kid, you go to jail, not me,” she explains icily, “and in an answer to your previous question, if you’re drunk on duty, I go to jail, but only because I’ll happily admit to murdering you.”

And so on and so forth - Huaisang takes him on a tour of the campsite, accompanied by the ever paranoid Jiang Cheng, who watches Wei Wuxian’s every movement, evidently worried even after all these years that he’s just going to up and set something on fire out of the blue.

They show him to the tents, one of which will become his own for the coming weeks - not a whole lot worse than what you’re probably used to, Jiang Cheng comments sourly, and Wei Wuxian punches him in the arm, but at least he doesn’t have to say, no, it’s perfect.

He’s slept here before, when he himself was fifteen and in his very last year as a kid, and the fondness that overcomes him when he’s left alone to his own devices and he sits on the narrow bed, the waxed canvas of the tent billowing in a brisk afternoon breeze, is honestly a lot.

They’re luxurious tents, too, usually fitting two, with wooden floors and sides, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know how right he is - not that Wei Wuxian is going to go telling him that any time soon.

He lies down on his back, staring at the golden specks of dust swirling in what hazy sunlight makes it through the cream-colored fabric, and makes a promise to himself right there and then - alright, Wei Wuxian, this is it. Somehow, you’ve made it back here, so let’s not fuck it up too spectacularly, huh?

He hears the guitar faintly, like it’s coming to him in a dream, but unless Jiang Cheng actually murdered him on their way here and sent him on his merry way to the afterlife, this is real. He sits up abruptly, the widest grin coming from nowhere, and he fumbles for his backpack, searching for the harmonica.

Of course Lan Zhan would still play the guitar, of course he would, he was always brilliant, and he must have gotten even better in all these years they haven’t seen each other-

“Wei-xiong! ”

“Holy mother of-” Wei Wuxian almost swallows the aforementioned harmonica before he can coax a single note out of it, because someone bursts into his tent without a word of warning...

“Wen Ning,” he groans fondly, “you scared the shit out of me. Knock, next time. What can I do for you?”

“Sorry!” the kid gasps - he’s barely seventeen and just as soft and clueless as Wei Wuxian remembers him from when they were little, it’s not his fault he looks intimidating as hell. "Lan-zong  wants to see you. Us. He’s got a job for us...”

“We’re calling Xichen that now, huh?” Wei Wuxian sighs, rolling off the bed, “alright, fine, lead the way.”

His frankly wonderful idea of repairing whatever previous damage he might have done simply by existing in Lan Zhan’s immediate vicinity abandoned, Wei Wuxian sighs, putting the harmonica away, and follows Wen Ning on a crusade to secure some weapons - they spend the next thirty minutes fixing up the archery range, and while Wei Wuxian would rather listen to Lan Zhan’s guitar and possibly maybe pester him a little bit, he at least gets to question Wen Ning on anything and everything pertaining to Gusu.

It becomes abundantly clear that some topics are firmly taboo no matter how willing Wen Ning is to gossip - Wei Wuxian tries very hard, but he can’t convince him to tell him what actually made Lan Qiren retire (he’d like to think it was him, but one can only afford oneself so much credit), what really happened to Nie Huaisang’s older brother, who was once ride-or-die for both Gusu and Lan Xichen (he got a job very far abroad, that’s all Wen Ning knows, and Wei Wuxian promises himself he’s going to pour some alcohol into Huaisang eventually to make him spill the beans), or if Lan Zhan has had any luck at all getting rid of that stick up his ass.

That last question, he might get some answers to, though - Wen Qing reappears to snatch her baby brother away on some errand or other, leaving Wei Wuxian alone, on the solemn promise that he will not be setting things on fire, or wandering anywhere too remote.

In his defense - he’s going to have to get used to pushing that argument a lot in the coming days, he feels like - he’s almost sure he stays within the borders of the resort, as stated in about a dozen of those famous Gusu rules... Almost sure.

The forest is becoming thicker and thicker, and he’s beginning to get a bit winded from the trek he’s chosen, leading up a steep hill - it’s only right that he take a little break before he continues his search for the waterfall, and beyond it, hopefully, the rabbits.

They’ve been here ever since they were all little kids, probably even longer than that, and he remembers fondly those afternoons when they were allowed to just walk up the forest path he’s definitely going to find soon, and play with them to their hearts’ content...

Not really thinking twice about it - it’s just him and the trees and the buzzing insects after all - his fingertips dance through the nearby blades of grass, picking out the nicest one, broad and flat. He brings it to his mouth and experiments a bit, before he recalls how exactly he’s supposed to force it to produce sound, but when it finally does, the stupid, childish joy is definitely worth it. The notes of the melody are next to impossible to coax out of such a crude instrument, and he’s definitely going to have to play it on his harmonica soon, when he actually remembers to bring it, but it’s still good. It’s still enough.

...It still clearly acts as a homing beacon for wayward Lan Zhans, too, Wei Wuxian learns when next he opens his eyes and sees him standing there, stock still and serene, the nicest looking tree out of the dozens surrounding them - his heart leaps at the sight, even though Lan Zhan is yet again trying to set him ablaze where he sits with his glare alone.

“Hi again,” Wei Wuxian tries for casually cheerful, even though he himself is suddenly stupidly nervous, and when Lan Zhan’s only response is some more glaring, he sighs, standing up, coming toe to toe with him. Honestly, gotta do everything himself around here.

“I know, I know,” he waves the abused blade of grass in Lan Zhan’s face, “don’t needlessly destroy the resident flora, or something like that, right? See, I still remember some of the rules.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan comments, “where is your harmonica?”

“Oh! I still have it!” Wei Wuxian grins, “it’s in my tent. Where’s your guitar?”

“My cabin.”

“Right. I thought I heard you playing earlier. Want to-?”

“No. What are you doing here?”

Okay, that stings a little, but he probably deserves it.

“Just, you know,” he waves his hand vaguely, “scoping out the terrain. Didn’t the, uh... rope bridges used to be around here somewhere?”

Lan Zhan narrows his eyes, and despite himself, Wei Wuxian flushes a little bit - still can see right through him, huh, even after all these years.

“No. That’s all the way on the other side of the forest. You know this.”

“Right, I remember now,” he taps the side of his nose, and can see Lan Zhan’s eyes darting to the little movement. Nice. “Well, in that case, I’m pretty sure I’m lost. Walk me back to camp?”

Something is going on in that face, but it has been years - Wei Wuxian is dead certain he will not be allowed enough time to figure it out.

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s right, because Lan Zhan sets off back down the hill without a word of confirmation, leaving Wei Wuxian to stumble after him, struggling to keep up to be able to walk by his side and not trip over a new branch every three seconds, while Lan Zhan himself doesn’t seem to have the slightest issue navigating the thick undergrowth.

“Okay, but - hold on!” Wei Wuxian demands, “you still haven’t told me how you’ve been! I know, I know, it’s been ages, but we are going to be working in pretty close quarters all summer long, the least we could do is be able to talk again.”

“Hmph,” is the all-encompassing answer he receives for his troubles.

“Lan Zhan,” he pouts, “you’re impossible. Alright, you know what, I’m going to ask you questions until you answer, or kill me and shove me into a bush, I’m not picky. Where have you been all these years? You went on to study music, right? Because I heard you play, I remember how good you were. Why did Lan Qiren retire? Was it me? Did he burst an ulcer?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says firmly, stopping so abruptly Wei Wuxian almost runs into him head on, and if he weren’t so busy trying to regain his balance and avoid diving nose first off a hill, he might even pay more attention to the way his name coming from Lan Zhan makes his heart beat twice as fast. “Enough.”

And Lan Zhan is looking at him now, really looking, all sky-high cheekbones and eyes like dark honey, and Wei Wuxian kind of wants to make his next question be ‘Were you always this stunning and I just forgot, or is it a recent development?’, but he decides against it in the end - figures it might not be received very well right now.

“Alright, sorry, sorry,” he laughs, “one last question, then, if you’ll allow me.”

The murder stare doesn’t waver a bit, but Wei Wuxian is all in now, he’s shooting his shot.

“Are the rabbits still here?” he asks as innocently as humanly possible, and there, there it is - the faintest flicker of something softer in Lan Zhan’s glare, like a peek behind the curtain, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

“They are!” he exclaims victoriously, “come on, show me!”

Predictably, Lan Zhan only scoffs, and marches in the direction of the campsite instead, but Wei Wuxian is perfectly fine with that, no matter how loudly he proclaims otherwise, chasing after the guy - he’s fine, because there are two things he now knows with near perfect clarity.

One, the time for rabbits will come later, and when it does, it will be wonderful, and two...

If he doubted it at first, he doesn’t worry anymore - the Lan Zhan he once knew is still in there, at least a little bit of him, waiting to be rediscovered, and that, Wei Wuxian can definitely work with.

Nine Years Old

He’s lost. It takes him some time to admit, but it’s definitely true - the last familiar sight was Jiang Cheng red in the face getting angry at him, and then Wei Wuxian ran and ran, laughing, ignoring the calls to come back, and now... He’s here, wherever here is.

The trees all around him are very tall, and they all look alike - it’s next to impossible to get a sense of direction. Down, he thinks, that might be right... And so he searches for where the hill starts angling downward again, and stumbles ahead on unsteady feet. Soon enough, he hears the faintest hiss and hum, like the leaves and branches of the trees swaying in the wind, but more persistent, and it instantly reminds him of home.

“Water,” he exhales, and hurries towards it.

The sight takes his breath away - it’s a waterfall, streaming down a rocky slope, and he knows he’s definitely going in the wrong direction now, because there’s no way the older kids showed them this part of the resort on their tour. What’s more, he’s not alone - he sees another small figure down below where a small pond catches the water, a boy on his knees, surrounded by...

“Rabbits!” Wei Wuxian sighs excitedly, and the other boy gasps in surprise, turning to look at him.

“Hi!” Wei Wuxian waves enthusiastically, “can I-”

Which is the exact moment the very earth gives out from under his feet - more likely he slips on a loose tuft of grass or a rock - and he goes tumbling down the hill with no way to stop himself until he lands in a miserable heap in front of the stranger, startled rabbits running off in every which direction.

Woah, there’s so many of them, is the first thing Wei Wuxian notices, even as he’s blinking away tears, his knee scraped enough to start bleeding... Woah, scary, is his second thought when he intercepts the other boy’s glare.

“Uh,” he manages, pulling a wayward twig or three out of his hair, “hi again. I’m Wei Wuxian. Nice to meet you.”

More glaring.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” says the other boy, so seriously Wei Wuxian almost looks around for whichever adult is secretly watching from afar.

“I’m not?” he inclines his head, “I didn’t know. I’m new here, I just came with my brother. He’s back at camp. Are these your rabbits?”

Dozens of pairs of round, bright eyes like shiny beads watch him warily from afar, and the boy’s stormy expression softens a bit.

“You startled them,” he accuses Wei Wuxian, who sighs, finally getting back up to his feet to dust himself off.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he grumbles, “but seriously, they told us we’d be taking care of animals, but I only saw the chickens and the ducks, you know, near the lake? They didn’t tell us there would be rabbits!”

“They’re not like the other animals,” the other boy explains sourly, firmly looking away from Wei Wuxian now, one hand outstretched towards the bravest of the herd, already hopping closer. “They live here. In the forest. They’re not for playing.”

“Really?” Wei Wuxian grins, crouching down to imitate the resident rabbit expert, one of the bigger ones braving coming closer to him as well. “They seem pretty friendly.”

To that, the other boy says nothing at all, only watches warily as Wei Wuxian extends his hand ever so carefully to pet the skittish critter, making sure not to gasp too loudly at how soft its fur is. It sniffs his hand, nosing at his wrist, and he laughs, sparing a glance at his mysterious companion, who blushes and quickly looks away.

“Do you live in the forest, too?” Wei Wuxian teases him, and that frown returns fast as lightning - the boy stands up abruptly, almost like he’s going to pounce or something, but Wei Wuxian is quickly learning it doesn’t go much further than the glaring with this one.

“Camp is this way,” the boy announces, walking to the other side of the little clearing, where a brook fed by the waterfall snakes away through the trees - his one chance of getting back to his brother swiftly running away from him, Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet as well, dashing after him.

“Wait, hang on! Sorry, rabbits- wait!”

Looks like his new not-quite-friend is clearly not going to accommodate him in the least - he marches ahead at an impressive speed, probably used to walking around the forest all day long, while Wei Wuxian is... not that. It doesn’t take long for him to trip over some particularly spiky tendril hiding in the undergrowth, and he goes down with a yelp and a cry of pain. First day of camp, and he’s going to die alone in a forest, great.

He looks up to see a hand outstretched to him, to help him up, which belongs to an arm, which belongs to the strangest pair of dark amber eyes he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Oh,” he sniffs, “thanks.”

The boy pulls him to his feet, looking him up and down like he’s just a weirdly shaped stick he found in the forest, and then he seems to reach some sort of decision, sighing heavily.

“I’m Lan Wangji,” he says coolly, “and you’re bleeding. Come on. We have to tell the nurse.”
“I’m fine!” Wei Wuxian beams, his bruised knee the least of his concerns right now, “but... wait, Lan Wangji? Like Lan Xichen, the guy who showed us around?”

For a split second, the boy looks almost proud.

“My brother. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Wuxian hobbles after him, and if Lan Wangji slows down in the least to make it easier for him to keep up, he certainly doesn’t admit it, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare comment on it, since he doesn’t actually have a death wish.

“But isn’t Lan Qiren the guy who runs the camp? Friends with Uncle Jiang, weird beard, doesn't smile a lot? Is he your Dad?”

“Uncle.”

“Oh! Wow, so this is like a family business? Is that what it is? That is so cool. Do you own the forests, too? Can we go back to see the rabbits some day?”

It’s only that very last question that garners any sort of response, Lan Wangji slowing down a bit, and shooting him... a look. Not knowing what to do with it, Wei Wuxian only smiles some more, inclining his head, please?, and Lan Wangji... doesn’t really roll his eyes, but doesn’t tell him to shut up, either.

“Some day,” he says instead.

And as far as first days at camp go, Wei Wuxian decides, he’s not having the worst one after all - sure, his knee is stinging like crazy, and he thinks he hit his elbow that second time he went down, but hey, at least he’s made a friend. And any future that involves petting rabbits is a good one, if he may say so himself.

“Lan Wangji,” he tests out the new name, not really caring if the other boy hears him, but still kind of thrilled when he turns his head ever so slightly, acknowledging him. “We’re going to have a great summer, you and I.”

Chapter Text

It’s always like a volcano erupting in slow motion, the day of the arrivals - the first cars start pulling up sometime at noon, and what was a quiet, slumbering campsite, quickly transforms into a pit of shouting voices and stomping feet. It’s the same every year - old friends reuniting, clambering over one another to ensure they get the best cabins, save the right bunks for those who haven’t arrived yet, while their parents double and triple-check everything, from paperwork to the amount of dust on the windowsills, before they finally wave one last teary - or relieved - goodbye to their now largely uninterested children, and drive off.

It’s utter pandemonium, and despite himself, Wangji kind of enjoys it - even though Xichen clearly has it out for him, because he saddles him and Wei Wuxian with lodgings duty. In theory they’re supposed to make sure the right children get the right tents, which simply means explaining to teenager after teenager that no, the rules haven’t changed since last year and they don’t get the luxury of staying in a cabin meant for eight-year-olds, but Wangji should have remembered - theories rarely pan out where Wei Wuxian is involved.

“Look, all I’m saying is,” he’s currently all but holding two children by the collar for Wangji to judge, “these two absolutely cannot stay in the same tent! I’m telling you, I can see it in their eyes, they’re going to burn the place down!”

“But we were together last year! Tell him, Lan-Gege!”

“Yeah, in a cabin, A-Lian, not the same thing!” Wei Wuxian all but twists the boy’s ear, “you’re in the big leagues now!”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji sighs mildly - he’d love to ask how it is that he already seems to know every other child’s name, but first, onto solutions. “A-Lian, A-Cheng, you’re together, for now. That tent over there.”

“Oh, nice Lan Zhan, right next to mine,” Wei Wuxian grins, “see, you two. I will know if you get into trouble now. I can hear everything. I don’t sleep. I don’t dream. I just listen.”

Irritation warring with disbelief, Wangji watches as he ushers the boys to their tent, and where he’d expect typical teenage dismissal, sour faces and one-word answers, Wei Wuxian somehow manages to eke out laughter, not twenty seconds later, as he helps the boys get set up. Mysteriously, he also finds the time to send a blinding grin Wangji’s way as well, which he does a somewhat good job of ignoring, simply sighing some more and making the appropriate note in his papers.

It’s going to be a long six weeks.

“Lan-Gege! There you are!”

Fortunately, some good news finally arrive - there’s only so many children who would be so bold as to holler at him, and he’s been waiting for them to come back all this time.

The three of them are barrelling towards him at the speed of light, and he barely has the time to prepare himself before the avalanche of greetings hits him - they are like overly excited puppies, and although he risks sounding about eighty years old, his first words, when he’s allowed to say any, are: “You’ve all grown so much. Welcome back.”

“Alright, alright, who do we have here?” Wei Ying chooses the least convenient time to butt in, of course, because now Wangji is going to have to make introductions, and... Actually, let’s see where it goes.

“O-oh, a new face!” Jingyi pipes up even before that, because of course he does, irreverent as always, “Lan Jingyi, pleased to meet you!”

“Ouyang Zizhen,” their resident pretty face, if teenage girls’ opinions are anything to go by, joins in, throwing his arm around Jingyi’s shoulder, the two of them all but crowding Wei Ying, who looks on in mild amusement.

“I see, I see,” he taps the side of his nose, “let me guess - it’s your last year, huh? The troublemaker-” he points to Jingyi, who puffs up, but cannot really disagree, then turns to Zizhen, “and the heartbreaker. Quite the duo. Been coming here long?”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji almost smiles, “this is their sixth year here.”

“Hell yeah, it is!” Jingyi announces proudly, “we grew up here, and we’re going out in style.”

“Hell yeah,” Wei Wuxian laughs, but then Wangji’s words finally reach him, and the change in his face, from amused and carefree to confused, the realization dawning, is frankly hilarious to watch. “Wait,” he turns to Wangji, “ six years? That means I should... Did we...?”

“It is you. Wei-Gege.”

The third member of the merry little gang finally speaks up, and Wangji’s heart clenches, but he says nothing - only watches, instead, as Sizhui walks up to Wei Ying, somewhat unsteadily, but still eagerly, and also gets to watch, for all his troubles, Wei Ying’s face some more.

“That’s me! Wei Wuxian, although I’m begging all of you to call me something shorter. And you are?”

“You always wanted to help out in the kitchen, but Granny Wen wouldn’t let you, because you snuck chilli into everything,” Sizhui is as charmingly blunt as ever, and Wangji smirks, confident no one will see.

“Huh?” Wei Ying frowns.

“You played the harmonica at really inconvenient times, and you liked to break the rules a lot, and you tried to convince all of us that there was a monster in the lake that would eat anyone who stayed out past curfew.”

“Okay, who are you?” Wei Wuxian’s confused grimace is hilarious, but Wangji succeeds at not laughing at him. “Lan Zhan? Who is this kid?”

“And,” Sizhui presses on, because once he gets going, there’s simply no stopping him, “I was scared every night, because I was the odd one out and there was no more room in the cabins, and I had to sleep in a tent, alone, but you came every day and read to me until I fell asleep.”

“Aaaaww!” Zizhen exclaims, already almost tearing up, while Jingyi looks like he’s rediscovered Atlantis, punching Zizhen in the shoulder and pointing at Wei Ying like he’s a taxidermied specimen in a museum: “Oh my god, it is him!”

But Wei Ying, well, he only has eyes for Sizhui, and seeing the understanding softening the features of his face is like watching the sun rise.

“You’re...” he exhales, and his voice fails him, which shouldn’t be that stupidly endearing, “A-Yuan? Little A-Yuan? Really?”

“Yeah,” Sizhui grins.

“...The kid with the runny nose?”

“Yeah!” Sizhui laughs, and before Wei Ying can come up with anything else, he’s on the receiving end of a very unexpected hug - it takes him a second, and Wangji is glued to the expression in his face, he can’t quite help himself.

Leftover confusion slowly melts away, gives way to joy, and at long last, Wei Wuxian laughs as well, and reciprocates, if a bit stiffly, pulling him closer before holding him at arm’s length and checking him all over, like he can’t quite believe it still.

“Holy shit,” he exhales, eyes gleaming a bit more than is perhaps entirely normal, “well, look at you.”

“I missed you,” Sizhui continues with his relentless honesty, and a smile warm enough to end wars, and Jingyi chimes in: “We kept asking Lan- Gege, year after year, when you would be coming back!”

“Oh yeah?” Wei Ying snorts, “and what did Lan-Gege have to say about that, I wonder?”

“Not much,” Jingyi scowls, and Wangji suddenly finds the treetops extremely interesting.

“But after you left so suddenly,” Sizhui’s smile is audible now, “he kept coming back to read to me, I remember that. Even let me sleep in his cabin a couple nights.”

“Did he now,” Wei Wuxian says, uncharacteristically gently, and Wangji braves looking his way, which is a horrible idea, because Wei Ying is smiling at him now, and that has always been difficult to deal with.

He can only nod, and Wei Ying’s smile cranks up to blinding, and Wangji is in hell.

“Wait, so,” Jingyi breaks that little moment in half, if there even was one, “you’re a Senior Counsellor now, right? Who are you in charge of?”

Wei Wuxian’s grin gains a dangerous edge now, and he clasps Jingyi’s shoulder, while also simultaneously sending a look Wangji’s way, I’m enjoying this so much and you know it.

“Oh, buddy,” he sighs dramatically, “let’s just say you and I will be seeing a lot of each other, every damn day.”

“You’re with us?!” Zizhen exclaims, and Sizhui more than matches him in enthusiasm, albeit a bit more subdued: “Are you serious? But what about Lan-Gege, he always takes care of the oldest kids...”

“Not always,” Wangji reminds him, suddenly in a hurry to steer away from the topic, “and this year, there’s a lot of you. You’ll learn all about it at the initiation. Have you found your tents yet?”

“That’s right, wouldn’t want others to steal the best ones!” Wei Wuxian declares, “come on, show me where you’re staying!”

And just like that, he steers his personal herd of teenagers away, and Wangji can only watch as they follow him like a gaggle of ducklings - he doesn’t even have the time to remind Wei Ying that they’re supposed to actually write things down... But then his own mind is swimming in a strange haze of fondness and agitation both - at seeing Sizhui and the others, who have become very dear to him over the years, and at their little reunion with Wei Wuxian, as well.

He tries not to think too hard about how easily they immediately hit it off, how they didn’t even think twice about abandoning Wangji where he stood - they are still only kids, after all, no matter how tough their act, and they get excited over all new things. Wangji has known them, has been taking care of them, for years, and if he is forced to add Wei Wuxian to the mix this time around, then he’s simply going to have to make the best of it.

Easier said than done, of course.

They get separated for almost an hour, Wei Ying and him, on account of Xichen urgently needing Wangji’s help with something, and before he knows it, it’s almost time for the initiation. They’re supposed to be lining up and getting ready, the staff are, but of course Wei Wuxian is nowhere to be found, and Wangji has to criss-cross the entire campsite half a dozen times in search of him... It’s lucky somebody somehow convinced him to wear the light blue Gusu Staff t-shirt, Wangji thinks - at least it makes him stand out in a crowd. Nothing to do with how becoming the color is on him, of course not.

Ah, there he is, slacking off, of course... Wangji has half a mind to drag him away by the collar of the aforementioned t-shirt while scolding him about keeping time, but then he looks better, and recognizes the person Wei Ying is talking to, and swiftly decides not to interfere at all.

Seeing Jiang Yanli on Gusu premises should be cause for celebration, as far as he’s concerned - she was once one of the most beloved Counsellors here, when her brothers and Wangji were children still, kept coming back for years and years until real life interfered in the form of her marriage and a child of her own, nothing unusual, but...

Wangji needs only take one look at how pale Wei Wuxian appears all of a sudden, to question everything he knows about that particular family.

He really doesn’t mean to interfere, perfectly content to just stand there consumed with a burning curiosity until the right time to butt in arrives, but his hopes are shattered even before that - Jiang Yanli notices him, and her smile is like a cozy summer morning as she waves him over, a stark contrast to Wei Ying’s face. He goes even whiter, if that’s even possible, and something in his expression twists, almost pained - before his sister or Wangji can say a word, he literally runs away, and Jiang Yanli sighs, her smile only wavering a little bit.

“Xiao Wangji,” she addresses him so warmly, so kindly, he immediately feels easily a decade younger, “it’s so good to see you again! My goodness, you’ve grown.”

“Jiang-laoshi. It’s a pleasure to see you too.”

“Oh, cut it out with that, will you,” she scowls at him with all the ferocity of a slightly put-out butterfly, “there were times you all called me Li-Jie! I’m not that old, you know, or that respectable.”

“My apologies,” Wangji smiles, “I understand it’s your son’s first year with us?”

“It is, isn’t that exciting?” she grins, “on second thought, though, that does make me feel old. He’s only eight, but don’t let that fool you. His father spoils him too much, so this will be very good for him. I told A-Xian and A-Cheng not to go easy on him, but I don’t think they’ll be able to go through with it. Watch after them all for me, will you?”

“I’ll do my best,” Wangji nods solemnly, and she laughs, delighted.

“You’re the best. I’m really happy Gusu allowed A-Xian to come back. I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

“I-” Wangji opens his mouth helplessly, “...no. My brother actually didn’t say a word about hiring him, until... well, yesterday.”

“Oh,” she inclines her head, briefly confused, almost displeased - Wangji is largely incapable of decrypting that look successfully. “I thought... I see. Well then, don’t hesitate to let me know if he misbehaves. I know I only signed up one kid, but I’ll actually be worrying about three, all summer long. Now I really have to run - I left the actual kid with A-Cheng, and who knows how that’s going. Take care!”

And as quickly as she appeared, like a mirage of times long past, the crowd swallows her again, and Wangji never asks her any of the questions he wants to ask, but perhaps it’s for the best. He has her misbehaving brother to wrangle, after all.

Somehow, the stars align when he isn’t looking, and he doesn’t have to force Wei Wuxian to do anything - after some more fruitless searching, Wangji returns to the main lodge, all but ready to complain to Xichen about Wei Ying’s ill-timed absence, but there the devil is, looking like the picture of punctuality, a ‘Finally!’ shot Wangji’s way like he’s the one who’s been slacking off.

Xichen goes over some last-minute preparations with them, everyone handing in their paperwork and confirming that Gusu is, after all, a good seventy souls richer once more, and then all that’s left to do is really begin.

They stand in a more or less neat row in front of the main lodge, and when Xichen rings the bell, and the children start swarming around them, Wangji feels the thrill of anticipation, like a tingle at the back of his neck, both exciting and slightly frightening. He looks to the side, where Wei Ying bounces on his feet next to him, eyes slightly unfocused, dazed, like he isn’t all there, and he ponders asking him if he’s okay, but decides against it in the end - not quite at that level of effortless communication, are they.

“Stand still,” he chides him instead, and it has the desired effect of snapping him out of whatever reverie he’s been lost in, and Wangji receiving a proper Wei Wuxian brand pout for his efforts.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, jeez.”

“And do something about your collar,” Wangji sees fit to add, which grants him a sour scowl, quickly transformed into a mischievous grin, however.

“What, this collar?” Wei Wuxian says ever so innocently, undoing one more button of it, rather than fixing it, and Wangji opens his mouth to protest, shameless, horrible, unprofessional, but then the bell tolls a second time, and a hush falls over their little ragtag assembly, as well as the children around them. Acting on years of habit and instinct, the sound alone is enough to make Wangji stand up straighter, fold his hands behind his back and glare ahead, and he pretends he doesn’t hear the snort of laughter with which Wei Wuxian does the same, albeit with much less conviction and much more irreverent flair.

“Alright, everyone here?” Xichen asks gently, “seems like it. Hi everybody! Welcome to Gusu!”

The children respond with a chorus of hi’s and hello’s and even the occasional cheer - Jingyi has always liked to stand out in a crowd - and in Wangji’s mind, this is what makes it official, the same feeling year after year, of everything falling into place, the empty spaces between the trees and the cabins, the walls and the forest, filling with people - summer is officially on.

Sixteen Years Old

Like clockwork, Wangji hears the sniffling coming from the tent at the edge of the row as he nears it, but contrary to every other night, it isn’t accompanied by a familiar voice reading out from a book - he looks around, half expecting Wei Wuxian to come dashing like a competitive sprinter to complete his daily duty, but then he remembers how furious Uncle Qiren had been with him not thirty minutes ago, summoning him to his office, and he thinks, oh. Dammit.

Deliberately, he starts on the other end of the row of tents, leaving little A-Yuan’s for last, to give Wei Ying enough time to get to him, but no matter how slow Wangji walks, no matter how much more time than usual he spends listening to about twenty different versions of every tween issue imaginable plaguing the kids’ minds and preventing them from falling asleep, by the time he reaches the end of his check-up, there’s still no Wei Ying, and thus still no bedtime story being read to the crying boy.

“Wei-Gege!” A-Yuan exhales when Wangji finally decides to peek into his tent, and he tells himself he shouldn’t let the kid’s disappointment get to him, when he realizes Wangji is definitely not who he’s been expecting.

“I’m sorry, A-Yuan,” he says, “Wei Ying is running a bit late tonight, but I’m sure he’ll be here in no time.”

The boy stares, probably not even aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks at this point, and Wangji sighs.

“Would you like me to wait for him with you?”

No reply, only A-Yuan sitting up and bringing his knees to his chin, ostensibly to make room for Wangji to sit, which he does with some doubt, none of which hopefully shows in his face - he only knows the child from afar, so to speak, as he’s not really in the age group he spends the most time with. It’s Wei Ying who has established some sort of rapport with him, whom A-Yuan sticks to like glue, day and night, who should be here right now, damn him.

To his surprise - and mild relief - A-Yuan proves much better at filling the awkward silences, as he fishes out a book from under his pillow, and pushes it quite unceremoniously into Wangji’s hands.

“Oh, uh,” Wangji flounders, “are you sure you don’t want to wait for Wei Ying?”

“Mmno,” A-Yuan shakes his head, “it’s fine. Please?”

Wangji gives himself about three seconds to listen for Wei Ying’s no doubt imminent approach, but then he relents.

“Alright then. What are we reading?”

“Kite on a String!” A-Yuan supplies helpfully, “we read The Owl’s Hoot yesterday. I think. Or was it the one about the hummingbird...”

“No matter,” Wangji stops him fondly, “hush now.”

A-Yuan obeys almost too quickly, curling up into a ball so small under his covers that something in Wangji’s heart clenches at the sight, but he decides not to second-guess this particular situation anymore - he simply finds the appropriate page, and gets to reading.

The book, a collection of somewhat moralistic fairy tales, comes from Gusu’s own library, where any child can borrow anything they want, and Wangji wonders if he should tell A-Yuan that it used to be one of his, when he was about his age - if it stands a chance of boring him to sleep, he might even consider it.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m so sorry, A-Yuan- oh.”

Wei Ying all but bursting into the tent startles both Wangji and the boy, whose gasp quickly turns into a giggle.

“Wei-Gege!” he complains, “you’re late!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?” Wei Ying offers a truly tortured scowl, crouching by A-Yuan’s bed, completely ignorant of the fact that the tent is suddenly very cramped. “But I see you’ve already replaced me! I’m heartbroken, A-Yuan! Heartbroken!”

“I’m going,” Wangji says mildly, and whatever hides in Wei Ying’s eyes, half unreadable in only the dim glow of a flashlight, A-Yuan has no reservations about confirming out loud: “No, stay! I want Lan-Gege to read to me tonight. You have to finish.”

“How generous of you, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian snickers, his eyes soft, “then I’ll be going, I suppose.”

“No, you both stay. Lan-Gege reads, Wei-Gege can listen.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel better,” Wei Ying pouts, and without asking about Wangji’s opinion on the matter in the least, he simply sprawls on the free bed across from A-Yuan’s, supporting his chin with his hand, like he means to sleep here, and two pairs of eyes are now watching Wangji, highly expectant. “Go on, then, Lan-Gege.”

“Please, Lan-Gege!” A-Yuan adds, and Wangji thinks his heart might have developed some sort of condition in the past two minutes.

“Alright then, but keep quiet,” he sighs.

“Yeah, A-Yuan, shh, I want to know if Lan-Gege does the voices better than me-”

“That goes for you too,” Wangji says calmly, but firmly, “quiet.”

He does a pretty good job of ignoring Wei Ying’s theatrically offended huff, but dismissing his feelings about the entire rest of this little situation they find themselves in, that proves a bit more difficult.

It’s surprisingly easy for A-Yuan to start nodding off, almost charmingly so - halfway through the short, simple story, his eyelids are already heavy, and he’s all but invisible in his too-big sleeping bag - but Wangji is a little preoccupied with how hard he’s trying not to steal glances at Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who curls up on the bare bunk like a cat, like it’s the most comfortable bed he’s ever laid in, who tucks his hands under his head, who won’t stop staring.

It’s over far too quickly, and when Wangji reads the last sentence and closes the book, A-Yuan is fast asleep, or he looks it at least - Wei Ying blinks once, twice, like he himself is waking up from some sort of dream, the unfurls himself and sits up, bringing his index finger to his lips. Wangji only nods, setting the book down for the boy to find in the morning, and they both exit the tent as quietly as humanly possible.

He hovers while Wei Wuxian laces it in swift, practiced movements, not knowing what to say - they haven’t talked, really talked, in what feels like ages, and he doesn’t know about Wei Ying, but the invisible but no less real sense of distance between them burns.

“Night night,” Wei Ying chuckles to himself, and when he turns to Wangji, it’s as if he himself is surprised he stayed. 

“Thanks,” he gestures vaguely, and Wangji can only nod. “You’ve checked the others?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, yeah. That’s our job done for the night, then.”

“It is.”

Speaking only in hushed whispers, they make their way in the vague direction of the main lodge, but it’s obvious that that isn’t really where Wei Wuxian wants to go.

“Lan Zhan,” he says as they’re walking past Wangji’s cabin, uncertain, like he’s grasping at straws, “let’s play something together.”

“It’s past curfew,” Wangji reminds him, “we shouldn’t make too much noise.”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, he realizes as he watches Wei Ying’s face twist in some sort of unrefined emotion.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he shakes his head, “out past curfew, again. Look at us. Guess I’ll go get some sleep then-”

“Wei Ying.”

“Yeah?”

Eyes dark and gleaming like the midnight sky watch him with the same interest they did just a little while earlier, in the little boy’s tent, and Wangji silently wonders if he should...

“What did my Uncle say to you?” he asks instead, “are you in trouble?”

“Ha!” Wei Wuxian barks a laugh Wangji almost scolds him for, “no, no, that’s nothing! Just a little misunderstanding.”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji sighs.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying smiles, and it’s difficult to see in the dark, but Wangji is almost sure it never reaches his eyes. “It’s fine. Really.”

Four days later, he’s packing his bags, and then he’s gone for good, and when Wangji goes to little A-Yuan’s tent to read to him that night, the boy is inconsolable, and Wangji doesn’t know the right words to say to calm him down... So he really just reads to him, tiny fingers holding onto his hand with surprising strength, a sharp ache of disappointment in his throat, until A-Yuan eventually falls asleep anyway.

And if he keeps coming back night after night from then on, and sometimes answers the boy’s half-tired ‘Can we please wait up for Wei-Gege to come back’ with a quiet ‘Of course’ , well then, no one else really needs to know, do they.

“A-Xian.”

Oh, not good. Wei Wuxian feels like someone just whacked him over the head, and he turns around only very slowly - it doesn’t really change anything, because there could never be enough time in his life to prepare himself for seeing Shijie again.

She’s beautiful, because of course she is, and he thinks crying about it might be a bit stupid, surrounded by so many strangers - fortunately she’s always been a lot better at, well, everything that has to do with emotions, so she envelops him in a hug before he can say a word, and fortunately, he manages to reciprocate before it’s over.

“There you are,” she exhales, giving him the trademark Jiang Yanli once-over, and the easiest thing is to smile, so he does just that, and shrugs.

“Here I am. Where’s A-Ling?”

“A-Cheng is showing him around,” she grins, brushing some invisible speck off his shoulder, “Gusu blue suits you.”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” he pulls at the collar of the light blue monstrosity, “so itchy.”

“I’m sure. Let me look at you.”

He’s at her mercy whether he likes it or not, and feels like he’s ten years old again, Jiang Cheng and him racing each other to find her at the end of every day here, to complain about each other’s perceived slights... Fuck, maybe it was a slightly stupid idea, coming back here, where so many memories are waiting to jump him every step of the way.

“Come back,” her voice wavers only a little bit, “when this is over, come to Yunmeng with us. Just for a couple of days. You look like you haven’t eaten a proper meal in years. I’m going to cook for you. What do you say?”

Let’s go right now, he wants to plead with her, but doesn’t. The longing to go home is so strong it threatens to rip him in half sometimes, but he has the sneaking suspicion that Yunmeng isn’t it anymore.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “maybe.”

“That’s decided, then,” she pats his cheek ever so gently, “in the meantime, look after A-Ling for me, but don’t go too easy on him! Let him scrape his knees and fall on his nose a couple of times, alright?”

“If you say so,” Wei Wuxian chuckles weakly, the easiest sound to push past that bundle of pain in his throat.

“We’ll probably come visit on parents’ day, but I was hoping to stay a bit longer, maybe help out... If Lan-zong lets me, of course. We’ll see.”

“Okay,” he conjures up some approximation of a smile, all the while feeling like the collar of the unfamiliar t-shirt is slowly closing around his neck.

“And... A-Xian.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes are so impossibly warm, so kind, and she is, very obviously, so happy to see him... If he’d hoped he might go without feeling like shit about himself for a while longer, he was clearly mistaken.

“It’s good that you’re back here. Please have a bit of fun, yeah?”

“I, uh...” he wants to be carefree about it, no problem there, but then they both notice Lan Zhan standing close by, watching them with that impenetrable expression on his face, and before Wei Wuxian knows it, Shijie is waving him over, and he decides, alright, as good an opportunity as any, and legs it. Like a coward. Oh well.

He’d spend more time throwing his own personal pity party in his head, too, but fortunately, Gusu quickly takes over - the initiation is... surprisingly fun, Lan Xichen doing a good job of getting the kids excited, and Wei Wuxian feels a strange amalgam of anxiety and pride when he hears his own name announced together with the words Senior Counsellor.  

He even gets a very uplifting couple of cheers from the kids he was reunited with earlier, and it’s them that steal his attention away for the rest of the day, and thus help get his mind off... things.

A-Yuan, who apparently goes by Sizhui now, once a hilarious, emotional eight-year-old, continues his tradition of sticking to him like glue, followed by his loyal posse, and they never shut up, and never leave Wei Wuxian’s side - it’s kind of charming.

Lan Zhan and him lead their little group of almost twenty of the oldest kids away from the resort and into the forest, just to find a quiet spot and get acquainted better, and that’s where the fun really begins.

“They do this every year,” Jingyi hisses, the kids sitting in a circle, in a display of semi-attentive slouching, as Lan Zhan reminds them of seemingly every single rule that’s ever existed in Gusu, and if the memories Wei Wuxian is assaulted with didn’t make him so damn fond, he’d probably have interfered earlier.

“Rules are important,” A-Yuan - Sizhui - all but tut-tuts at his friend.

“I know they are,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “but I’ve heard them dozens of times at this point, I know them back and forth. I could probably recite them in my sleep.”

“Is that so?” Wei Wuxian hums, then sits up straighter, acting on his idea without really thinking about it, and proclaiming loudly: “Ah, Lan Zhan! Hang on a sec!”

As if someone elbowed him in the side in the middle of his monologue, Lan Zhan glares.

“What is it?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong,” Wei Wuxian starts broadly, all eyes on him now, if only out of sheer gratitude for the change of pace, “I love rules. Love them, love to break them.”

Scattered laughter - good.

“Can’t say I remember many of them, from back when I was here last, but these kids... They tell me they hear the same ones every year? Surely they must be experts by now!”

“Uh,” Jingyi is very quick to recognize that threat.

“Yeah!” Wei Wuxian slaps his shoulder, “see? Jingyi here tells me he could recite them, what’s that turn of phrase you used, Jingyi? Back and forth, in your sleep? Well, I say that calls for a game, to test that bold bold statement!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan warns, “the time for games will come later.”

“Nonsense,” Wei Wuxian is already jumping up to his feet, “it’ll be more fun if we can connect the two. Come on, everyone, up you go!”

Welcoming the distraction, the kids oblige easily enough, and before long, Wei Wuxian has them playing Tripod - they stand in a circle holding hands, and in the middle waits the precariously balanced titular structure, made out of three random sticks. At Go!, the circle starts moving ever so slowly, until it spins at a truly deadly speed of course, and the goal is to unceremoniously shove the person next to you forward, without breaking the hold - whoever kicks the tripod down, or lets go of the hand next to them, leaves the circle, but since Wei Wuxian wants to appease Lan Zhan as well, the loser must also recite at least one Gusu rule, correctly.

Before long, their little corner of the forest fills with laughter and shouting, and sure, it’s not the most elaborate game, but at least the kids are having fun, and nobody even twists an ankle! It happens, Lan Zhan, remember when we were, what, twelve-

The kids are having fun, and so is Wei Wuxian, and he knows, stealing glances at his co-counsellor watching from the sidelines with patent disapproval, he knows it’ll take time, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to reintroduce the concept into Lan Zhan’s life as well. Eventually.

They spend the afternoon putting the teenagers through a veritable avalanche of icebreakers, until everyone knows each other’s name, until they’re making new friends and/or cussing each other out, both are good, and before they know it, it’s time to go back for dinner.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, huh,” Wei Wuxian catches up with Lan Zhan after they order their group to settle in and clean up before meal time, and he has to actually trot a little to match pace with the guy, but he does so happily enough. “I thought that went pretty well, right?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan stops in front of his little cabin, leveling him with a look, “we have a schedule in place, for activities for each given day. Did you read it?”

“Did I- well,” Wei Wuxian sighs, “I might have glanced at it, yeah. But Lan Zhan, come on. These are teenagers we’re talking about, in a way they’re even more demanding than the little ones. We’re going to have to think on our feet much more often than you’d expect-”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says coolly, “I know.”

It doesn’t take a genius, either, to figure out what he’s really saying - I know, because I’ve been doing this for years. All things considered, you’re the new guy. Gusu has rules for a reason. Gusu has a long-standing tradition for a reason, and don’t you do anything to jeopardize that, Wei Wuxian...

God, if he closes his eyes, it’s like Lan Qiren is standing right before him.

He decides not to mope around too much, however - dinner is a very loud, very cheerful affair, and after it, the time comes to build a proper fire. He remembers their Counsellors when they were little, directing them into the right parts of the forest in search of firewood, and it all felt like some grand mission - it’s him, this time, alongside his brother and Wen Ning, who lead their troops on their all-important task, the oldest boys all but competing with each other over who finds the most impractically massive log, as the adults (funny anyone should call them that willingly) make sure nobody cuts their foot off or gets lost on the very first day.

Before long, they erect a pretty astonishing pyramid in the campfire pit that also hasn’t changed in all these years, still outlined with the same massive flat stones, singed black, and when the sun slowly starts tipping below the line of the horizon, everyone gathers around it, huddled in little groups and clusters.

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, the youngest among the Senior Counsellors, have the traditional privilege of lighting the fire, and a hush falls over the children as they watch them approach, each a burning torch in hand. Xichen says a few words, because of course he does, and then the neatly stacked logs catch fire very eagerly, and some gasps escape the kids as they all watch the flames climb towards the sky, spewing up sparks to rival the stars.

“Here we go, huh,” Wei Wuxian mumbles to the kids sitting around him, and to his surprise, both Sizhui and Jingyi shush him, like he’s interrupting some sacred moment or something...

“Wait,” Zizhen says quietly, almost reverently, “they’re going to play.”

And then he finally remembers what it takes for this whole thing to really... well, take off.

Lan Zhan and his brother are side by side now, Xichen standing while Lan Zhan sits, and they’re both cradling their guitars, and an involuntary shiver dances up Wei Wuxian’s spine - briefly, he wonders if he should run to get his harmonica, but then the two strike the very first chord in perfect unison, and he doesn’t wonder about a whole lot anymore.

Familiar campsite tunes are interspersed with the occasional modern song, and all of them have the kids singing along, and Wei Wuxian decides it’s a good thing, this time at least, that he can just sit quietly and listen. He doesn’t doubt there will come a time when he will pick up his harmonica and join Lan Zhan’s guitar, but if he did that right now, he couldn’t watch - and watching is so good.

They’re both stunning, there’s no two ways about it - Lan Xichen is every bit the dreamboat he’s always been, gentle but strong voice coupled with the beautiful, rich sound of that twelve-string guitar of his, but it is, of course, his younger brother that Wei Wuxian’s stupid treacherous mind hyperfocuses on.

Lan Zhan is probably the only guy in the world who can actually make that whole romantic musician image work in his favor without even trying, long strands of dark hair falling in his face as he bends over his instrument, and produces the melodies to Xichen’s chords.

“Lan-Gege is so good, right?” Jingyi elbows Wei Wuxian in the side at some point, probably slightly concerned that he’s been silent for so long, “don’t you think he’s good?”

“No, yeah, he’s...” Wei Wuxian clears his throat, “he’s really good. He’s the best.”

“Where’s your harmonica, Wei-Gege?” Sizhui wants to know.

“In my tent. I’ll bring it next time,” Wei Wuxian waves him off, “do any of you play anything?”

They start listing off - Zizhen and the ukulele, A-Yuan and the violin, Jingyi and everybody’s nerves, am I right - but Wei Wuxian only pays them half a mind. It’s kind of difficult to concentrate all of a sudden, because he feels a bolt of lightning strike him where he sits when he looks up, and Lan Zhan’s eyes meet his across the flames, and he thinks, alright, maybe.

Maybe this will work out. Maybe, if he just spends this summer at Gusu, some things will start making sense again. Maybe he will be able to talk to Jiang Cheng, currently sitting surrounded with his own gaggle of excited kids too far away from him, for longer than two minutes without blowing up at each other. Maybe he’ll find some way to talk to Shijie and him again, about everything, without making it sound like he’d rather do anything but, without running away.

Maybe, at some point, if he just tries, the strange, hollow spot in his chest will be filled again, no matter how temporarily, with this - warmth and songs and laughter, and the way Lan Zhan’s eyes burn copper and gold in the glow of the campfire, and sear their way right into his soul whenever their looks meet that night. Maybe it will be enough. He’s willing to give it a shot, at least.

Chapter Text

Twelve Years Old

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, open up!”

Wangji’s fingers slide to a halt on the guitar’s strings, and right on time, too - Wei Ying doesn’t wait for an invitation, because of course he doesn’t, simply bursts through the door, waving... something in his face.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji sighs, “you shouldn’t be here. We are to stay within the campsite after lunch, and rest. We are not to disturb others, and use this time to-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, but look what I’ve got!”

Wangji moves the guitar out of harm’s way in the nick of time, right before Wei Ying throws himself onto the bed next to him, taking up far too much space considering how tiny he still is - they haven’t seen each other all year, and Wangji was actually relieved, in a way, when he lay his eyes on his friend when he arrived yesterday, and saw that his hair might have grown a little longer, his knees might have gotten, somehow, even more bruised and knobby, but otherwise, Wei Ying hasn’t changed a bit.

“A harmonica?” he comments as Wei Ying pushes the small instrument into his hands, all but buzzing with excitement.

“Yeah! I finally saved up to buy one! Don’t have to just whistle anymore, or pretend I actually want to learn how to play the guitar, no offense. I’m telling you, Aunt Yu was not happy, but Uncle says it has the perfect sound for campfires! And it goes really well together with a guitar, so we can play together!”

Wangji turns it over in his hands, careful, examining the delicate engravings in the polished metal, trying to think of what the point is of the flower motif, and so it naturally takes some time for Wei Ying’s words to actually reach him.

“...Oh,” he says, his eyes darting to his guitar. “I see.”

“So? Do you want to try?” Wei Ying is grinning as he pries the harmonica back from Wangji’s gentle hold, and Wangji frowns at him.

“Do you actually know how to play it yet?”

“Duh!” he huffs, “I practiced! Well, I’ve only had it for a week, but I’m gonna practice. Watch. Listen.”

He even sits up straighter, as if this is some sort of a concert and not a blatant interruption of Wangji’s downtime, inhales, closes his eyes, and brings the harmonica to his mouth. It’s... well, there are some recognizable notes, even the beginnings of chords, and Wangji does his absolute best to keep his face from twisting.

“I know, I know, it’s not perfect, but,” Wei Ying raises one finger, this is very important, “I have so much time to practice. I’m going to get so much better over the summer, just you wait. I’ll play good enough to join you in no time, you’ll see!”

Now that doesn’t make sense to Wangji in the least - as if there’s some unknown, arbitrary level one must reach to play alongside someone else?

“Move,” he orders, reaching past Wei Ying to get his guitar, nestling it comfortably in his lap, motioning for him to resume: “Go again.”

“Huh?” Wei Ying stares at him, and if Wangji didn’t know him better, he’d accuse him of being speechless. “No, you don’t have to, I mean- I need to practice a lot.”

“You do,” Wangji agrees plainly, “but I can help you. Listen to the chords I play. The scales are the same, so try and hit them on the harmonica. You will learn.”

Wei Ying continues to stare, his mouth moving a little bit, like he’s repeating Wangji’s words to himself, but then confusion and surprise give way to the warmest smile lighting up his features, until it grows into a grin that seems to have a peculiar way of soothing Wangji’s heart as well.

“Aww, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, “that’s so nice of you! Let’s do it!”

And it might be slow going, Wei Ying might do a lot more complaining and apologizing for his own mistakes than actual playing, but they get somewhere that day - before they know it, the bell announces the end of post-lunch recess, and the beginning of afternoon activities, and it’s only when he’s walking by Wei Ying’s side to join everyone else, that Wangji realizes, slowly and then all at once, that something happened.

He didn’t read one of the books he wanted to read, didn’t practice one of the note sheets he meant to go through, all in favor of assisting Wei Ying instead, for the opportunity to familiarize himself with the frankly often grating sound of the harmonica, and help shape it into something almost worth listening to... And he doesn’t even mind. It doesn’t even register as a disturbance in his usually very meticulous routine.

In fact, he doesn’t even understand it at first, not until he’s telling Wei Ying ‘The next campfire is in five days’ and suggesting they practice every lunch recess until then, so that the harmonica may make its first appearance there... Not until Wei Ying looks at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky and agrees, of course he agrees, with an amount of enthusiasm only he is capable of... It isn’t until after all of that, that Wangji stops, looks at it all once again, and thinks, hmm.

Interesting.

“Nie Huaisang, you are the devil.”

“Shut up. Are you helping me or not?”

Wei Wuxian sighs, kicks off his shoes and wades into the water - this is not exactly what he thought was going to happen when Huaisang asked him to stay behind for a portion of the morning and help out with some stuff, but it’s still delightful. Even if he’s giving up the chance to watch as the kids absolutely destroy each other in soccer.

“So, this scavenger hunt,” he starts broadly, and Huaisang shushes him sharply, as if they aren’t the only two people here. “Relax, I’m not going to tell on you. If anything, you can count on me to pepper in a couple of false leads, every now and then.”

“You’re a true friend,” Huaisang grumbles, making last-minute adjustments on the little mystery package in his hands - Wei Wuxian watches as he then half ducks beneath the pier and searches for a good spot to fasten it to the aging planks from below, where no one will be able to find it unless they’re really looking.

“My concern is this, though,” he continues as he helps the younger Counsellor hold it in place, “this is technically one of the spots the kids can’t go without our supervision, right?”

“You surprise me,” Huaisang mutters, now holding a bunch of screws in his mouth, motioning for Wei Wuxian to come closer with his battery drill. “Can’t seem to recall a single instance of you actually respecting the rules, way back when.”

“Alright, harsh,” Wei Wuxian winces, “but true. Still, how do you expect anyone to find this if they can’t get anywhere near it?”

“I don’t,” Huaisang replies calmly, instructing Wei Wuxian where to hold while he drills the screws in place.

“Huh?”

“They’ve got six weeks to complete the damn thing, Wei- xiong,” Huaisang explains, “you think I’m going to make it easy on them? Why do you think I’m even letting you see where I’m putting this one? They’re going to find the ones I want them to find, to feel a bit better about themselves, and then they’re going to spend ages in fruitless agony.”

“Holy crap, dude,” Wei Wuxian laughs, and Nie Huaisang offers a beatific smile, a perfect picture of innocence.

“What can I say. This tradition sorely needed renewing, the right way.”

He remembers it from when they were kids - a huge poster with all the things to find around the premises would always be posted up on day one, ranging from simple stuff like a bird’s feather or a funny-looking pinecone, to actual treasures that were hidden so well that whenever anyone succeeded at finding them, there were actual celebrations, not to mention the prizes.  

The pinecones and heart-shaped rocks, those were for the little kids, to exchange for small units of camp money or snacks, but the really big leagues, those would forgo the little finds entirely, and concentrate on what really mattered. There were wooden figurines, and little trinkets, and one memorable year, an old golden compass that was rumored to belong to Lan Qiren, and the thrill of the hunt was worth everything to them, even though from the outside looking in, it was just another activity meant to keep them occupied.

“Really taking a page from Jin Guangyao’s book, aren’t you,” Wei Wuxian comments easily enough as they’re making their way back to camp, dripping lake water, and bringing up the guy previously in charge of the scavenger hunt elicits a reaction he definitely didn’t see coming - he only catches it because Huaisang doesn’t hide it quickly enough, but something twists in his face, like disgust and anger both.

“Hardly,” he huffs, “would Jin Guangyao have walked into the lake in pursuit of the best hiding places known to man? Would he have climbed up trees and crawled under cabins? Did Jin Guangyao have a set of playing cards scattered across camp that only made sense if you found them all, and led you to a whole entire treasure at the end of this? I don’t think so. Screw that guy.”

“Okay, whoa,” Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh, “you finally going to tell me what the hell happened there? Jiang Cheng tells me he was still here last year. Why not anymore? Does it have to do with your brother not coming anymore, too?”

Huaisang only stares, for a chilling moment out of time, and Wei Wuxian realizes he barely recognizes the kid he used to know in his face - the easy cheer, the endearing confusion, it all fades away for the blink of an eye to reveal... something else underneath, but then it returns as if it were never gone, as if a mask snaps back into place, and Huaisang laughs.

“Nah, don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his hand idly, “Da-Ge is making big money overseas, he’s doing great.”

“Uh-huh. And Jin Guangyao?”

“What about him?”

“Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian grabs at his arm - oh now he’s interested, and he recognizes someone trying to deflect far too well. He’s a master of the craft himself, after all. “Seriously. What the hell happened?”

And Huaisang opens his mouth to say something, although it’s difficult to tell if it’s to explain or dismiss Wei Wuxian even further, but then Wen Ning is suddenly skidding to a halt next to them, startling both of them.

“There you are! Come on, kids versus Counsellors soccer match, right now!”

That offer, they mustn’t refuse, and as they make their way towards the sports field, Wei Wuxian doesn’t press it anymore - they really do have six weeks, don’t they, so he’s going to find out sooner or later, one way or another.

Besides, there’s just so much other stuff to do, to experience, he never really gets a moment’s rest. The kids are demanding on both his time and energy - someone always needs something, someone is always up for chatting, or playing tag, or divulging idle gossip about their cabin mates - but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Time doesn’t fly, so much as it gallops ahead at a dizzying speed, and he’s loving every second of it.

The first two days of camp feel simultaneously like they happen within the blink of an eye, and span weeks - he only came here a minute of days ago, but a sense of familiarity is already settling over him, be it his routines and duties as a Counsellor, or simply just the feeling of being here.  

At lunch recess on the second day, he sits outside by the cold fire pit and tests out his harmonica out in the open for the first time, and before he knows it, random kids just start flocking to him like he’s the Pied Piper - first a couple of wide-eyed little girls, who love playing the guess my name game with him, but seem to love his playing even more; then some of the older kids crawl out of their cabins, unsure whether they’re allowed or not, or raise their heads from the books they’ve been reading in the shade of the pines, and when his favorite troublemakers arrive to sit by his side, Zizhen already brandishing his ukulele, Wei Wuxian knows he’s onto something.

They don’t do a whole lot of singing, the kids mostly just satisfied to listen to him improvising some melodies, the older girls infinitely satisfied to watch Zizhen try and match him on his uke, a look of intense dreamy teenage concentration in his face, and it’s... nice. It’s great.

Even little A-Ling is there, not quite joining the circle but rather sitting on the doorstep to his cabin with that mighty Jin frown already coloring his features, pretending like he isn’t listening, and Wei Wuxian in turn extends him the courtesy of pretending like he doesn’t see him - he’s going to have to take it one step at a time with the kid, especially since he can’t exactly go up to an eight-year-old and start explaining how just looking at him makes him miss his family with an ache he didn’t know his heart could feel anymore, so... Yeah.

Fortunately, distractions present themselves in droves here, and he all but inhales his harmonica when he sees Lan Zhan approaching, already glaring at their little gathering with what to the untrained eye looks like patent disapproval.

Wei Wuxian continues playing until Lan Zhan is standing very close by, barely any of the kids having noticed him, and when Zizhen and him can’t think of a continuation for that particular melody anymore, he opts for a wink and and head toss: “Lan Zhan! I know, I know, peace during lunch recess, but we’re technically not breaking any rules. Why don’t you join us? Get your guitar, come on!”

Lan Zhan opens his mouth to say something, protest, probably, but he meets with such a passionate chorus of ‘Yeah!’ s and ‘Please, Lan-Gege!’ s, that it clearly disarms him a little bit. Wei Wuxian grins at him, inclining his head, and wonders silently if he even realizes - if he even looks down long enough to see how the kids are looking at him. They’re actually thrilled to see him, for crying out loud, they like him so much. It’s so adorable it makes Wei Wuxian’s heart sing.

“Next time,” Lan Zhan declares at long last, “there’s work to be done. Recess is over in fifteen minutes.”

Which is as vague as it can possibly get, and Wei Wuxian can almost hear the disappointed aaw - he’d scold Lan Zhan, maybe pressure him a bit more, but it’s no use. He turns on his heel and marches away, as rigidly as he came, and Wei Wuxian exchanges a glance with Sizhui sitting by his side. The kid’s face reads like a children’s book, with pictures, bless him, and it says it’s good that you’re trying.

Ah, but he really does have all the time in the world - he’ll get in good with Lan Zhan sooner or later, it’s only a matter of never relenting, bugging him until he yields, and if there’s one thing Wei Wuxian excels at, it’s annoying people into compliance. Now he’d never admit it out loud, but it stings, tugs at the remnants of something his sixteen-year-old self left behind that last summer at Gusu, to see Lan Zhan giving him the cold shoulder time and time again, but he’s nothing if not persistent.

Not being the one to make the first step, now that option doesn’t even occur to him until it’s already happening, but then persistent doesn’t necessarily include perceptive.

That night, shortly before curfew, he’s sort of idling, walking through the campsite at a pace that does a very good job of not letting it be seen that he just might be looking for Lan Zhan, or anyone else for that matter, just biding his time until the bell rings and they do their check-ups and their duties are concluded for the day, when he hears the sniffling - it’s coming from the dimly lit showers building, further away from where the kids are crowding to quickly brush their teeth five minutes before bedtime, and he’s hurrying that way before he knows it.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he’s asking before he even recognizes the kid, and, well, when he does recognize him, it’s too late to turn around and run.

“‘S nothing,” Jin Ling mumbles, wiping at his face and turning away from him, toothbrush in one hand.

“What, did your mom not teach you how to brush your teeth?” Wei Wuxian teases him, and it has the desired effect at least, Jin Ling scowling at him, but forgetting to cry for five seconds, at least.

“No,” he pouts.

“Then what is it? Come on, curfew’s in, like, a minute.”

Jin Ling opens his mouth to complain, but then his round little face contorts and twists, and he’s crying again, which, yeah, well done, Wei Wuxian, well fucking done.

“Aw, come on,” he sighs, dropping to one knee in front of the kid, “is that the problem? Curfew? Can’t fall asleep on your own?”

“No, I-” Jin Ling hiccups, “I don’t... I can’t-! I can’t find my toothpaste!”

Now Wei Wuxian has had some training, so he knows not to burst into laughter, opting instead for a very serious face that only transforms into a grin when he’s absolutely sure Jin Ling will be able to handle it.

“Are you serious? Want me to help you look?”

Jin Ling shakes his head furiously.

“Then we’ll look tomorrow, when it’s light out. But you gotta brush your teeth now, buddy.”

“I-I know,” Jin Ling sighs on a shuddering breath, “Mom always says... She says you have to-”

“Have to keep ‘em clean and squeaky, right?” Wei Wuxian says, proud of his voice not wavering a bit, then clutches the kid’s hand without prompting. “Yeah, I remember. Come on, I’m gonna get you some toothpaste, if it’s the last thing I do. Hey, Jingyi!”

Spotting his personal gaggle of teenage dumbasses in the group by the large metal sinks is a blessing, and they understand the situation quickly, Jingyi relinquishing a good amount of his toothpaste while Sizhui takes Jin Ling under his wing, talking to him easily and effortlessly, and Wei Wuxian relaxes, just in time for the first tolling of the bell, announcing ten minutes until curfew.

“Alright, that’s that, then. I gotta run. Would you please walk him to his cabin?” he clasps Sizhui’s shoulder, and the boy nods. “Thanks. You gonna be alright, bud? Want me to come check on you?”

“Jiujiu will be there,” Jin Ling shakes his head, and Wei Wuxian does a pretty good job of not wincing outwardly - Jiang Cheng, of course, who else. It’s not like he’ll be allowed to just read bedtime stories to the kid on day one.

“Right. Of course. I’ll see ya then. Good night. Sizhui, straight to bed with him, you hear?”

Half of those sentences are shouted back over his shoulder as he hurries to the main lodge, where everyone is probably already gathering to do their rounds... He still promises himself to stop by Jin Ling’s cabin, if only for the chance to get a peek at Jiang Cheng bent over a children’s book, and thus be provided with endless teasing material for the days to come.

The Jiujiu in question is, against all odds, conversing with Lan Zhan, of all people, in what probably must be two-word sentences at best, and as Wei Wuxian nears them, a treacherous thought flashes through his mind - how come you talk to him, huh, of all people, and not me?

But the answer to that question is obvious - unlike him, Jiang Cheng has actually never stopped coming here. Even made Senior Counsellor, just like he’d always wanted, good for him.

“What’s with you?” his perpetually pissy baby brother shows he cares in his usual way, giving Wei Wuxian a once-over like he just crawled out of a trash can, joined by Lan Zhan’s own, much less outwardly judgy glance.

“If you must know,” Wei Wuxian says, casually standing by Lan Zhan’s side in a totally not-at-all planned manner, “I was teaching your nephew how to brush his teeth.”

“You what?” Jiang Cheng frowns powerfully enough to set him ablaze.

“Relax. He couldn’t find his toothpaste, is all. Help him look for it tomorrow, it’s probably buried at the bottom of his suitcase or something. I didn’t do anything to him, I swear.”

“I didn’t say- ugh, nevermind,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, and Wei Wuxian sticks out his tongue at him - always enough to annoy him into not asking any more questions.

He turns to Lan Zhan, to see if he might have any comments, but back gazes nothing but an impenetrable facade of well-constructed indifference, which only crumbles when Wei Wuxian pats his pockets in search of his harmonica, taking it out and twirling it in his fingers in an also totally unplanned bid to annoy Lan Zhan into looking... Which finally gives him an idea.

The second tolling of the bell scatters the kids in every which direction, racing to make it back to their cabins and tents, and all the Counsellors spread out across the campsite, making sure everyone is safe and sound and preparing to go to sleep before the third and final bell. This is a part of his duties that Wei Wuxian really enjoys - not only does it spell the end of them for the day, but those kids that can’t fall asleep are usually in a very talkative mood, and he gets to hear them out even as he’s ushering them to zip themselves up in their sleeping bags and shut up.

Lan Zhan and him are in charge of the tents, and without agreeing upon it beforehand, they each just start on the opposite ends of the row - technically they should meet in the middle, but then Lan Zhan is brutally efficient where Wei Wuxian is just excited to talk whenever the kids want to talk, and so when a flashlight shines in his face in Sizhui and Jingyi’s tent, where he’s been sitting and chatting for the past couple of minutes, he crawls out a bit dejected, having the common sense to look at least a bit sorry.

“Alright, lace it up, boys!” he orders boisterously, Jingyi flashing him one last grin before he gets to work on the tent’s opening, and Lan Zhan stands close by, like a statue chiseled out of ice, and won’t stop glaring.

“Lan Zhan, I have an idea,” Wei Wuxian declares in hushed tones as they’re walking away from the tents, back towards the main lodge, “just hear me out, okay, you don’t have to participate, but you can’t tell me it’s against the rules.”

He waits for that barely audible sigh - continue.

“Right! When’s the last time everyone got together for a lullaby, huh?”

“Wei Ying-”

“No, no, I know, but remember how nice it was when we were kids? It can’t be just the bell and that’s it, you gotta... I don’t know. Make a show of it. Really wish them goodnight. Come on, join me, huh? I was thinking something simple, what was it called, that one about the morning dew or something? You know I can’t sing, I’ll be playing the harmonica...”

He’s just not getting through - Lan Zhan stops, halfway to the main lodge, at the doorstep to his cabin in fact, and just stares. And Wei Wuxian has never considered that an issue, that Lan Zhan does a fair bit more of staring than talking, but this time, he feels like he’s just hitting a wall, over and over again. It’s only day two, he reminds himself, one step at a time, eh.

“Fine,” he huffs, “I’ll do it myself. But you’re welcome to join me anytime, okay?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats, and isn’t it stupid and kind of wonderful, Wei Wuxian wants to tell him, that even after all these years, the mere mention of his name, the way Lan Zhan says it, can carry so much meaning? 

But he doesn’t, of course, say any of that. Day two, and all that.

“I know, I know, briefing with Xichen at ten thirty, I’ll be there, don’t worry so much.”

Lan Zhan looks like he might want to say some more, but Wei Wuxian is good at this - or he will be again. He just has to remember when to push, and when to pull back a little bit.

As it is, he simply pulls out his harmonica and brings it to his lips, turning away from the one person he actually wants by his side right now, and walks out into the quiet campsite.

He settles on a simple, peppy melody he remembers from his childhood, and it feels a bit odd at first, playing on his own to an invisible audience - he walks from the cabins to the chicken coops, and from there to the fire pit and the tents, and he can hear the shuffling of feet and the quiet, muttered questions and hey, look!’ s, and it’s all he needs.

He circles back to the cabins where the youngest kids sleep, close to the main lodge and the adults, and he can see them all watching him - that entire group of them at the base of the stairs leading up to the lodge, arms crossed over their chests, some smiling, some frowning. There’s Wen Ning, bless his heart, rushing to stand by his side when Wei Wuxian nods at them, and Wen Qing rolling her eyes but giving him a slightly sardonic thumbs up, and Mianmian by her side, her lips moving soundlessly, probably trying to match the melody... There’s Lan Xichen, who actually looks pleased, more than anything, but then again when is he ever not smiling, and Nie Huaisang, who in turn appears thoughtful, and Jiang Cheng is... right, of course, reading a bedtime story to his nephew, probably, and Lan Zhan... Well, he’s nowhere to be seen, but they’ll get there.

Wei Wuxian finishes his simple tune with a flourish, and before the staff can start clapping, he raises one hand to stop them.

“Wait, wait, let’s say goodnight, in three,” he urges them, and for some reason, it actually works - he counts down very quietly, and at one, a somewhat mismatched, but still lovely ‘Good night!’ echoes through the campsite, and the chorus of ‘GOOD NIGHT!’ they receive from the kids in return is more than worth it.

“Nice!” Wei Wuxian laughs, and for some reason, most everyone feels the need to crowd around him, all talking over one another.

“Let’s do this again tomorrow!” he offers, “we’ll come up with a better song, something we can all sing.”

“Yeah, what was this one?” Mianmian comments.

“Just something I thought of on the spot, really...”

“We could do something everybody knows!” Wen Ning suggests.

“That’s the idea, yeah. We can do this every night...”

“We certainly can,” Xichen interrupts their scheming gently, “but right now, we’re kind of ruining your hard work, standing out here and chatting so loud. Let’s go inside, everybody. Wangji, come on.”

That last sentence rings a bit louder, and Wei Wuxian turns to where Lan Xichen is looking, to see... Okay, yeah, Lan Zhan standing a little ways away, all but hidden in the shade of a nearby tree, and... has he been just hovering there this entire time? The idea is delightful, but Wei Wuxian decides against teasing, for now. This is, after all, everything he needs and more.

“Wei Wuxian! What the hell were you thinking?”

That’s Jiang Cheng, but there’s no real venom to his words, and Wei Wuxian sticks out his tongue at him.

“What, didn’t like my musical interlude?”

“I was reading out loud, you idiot. Kinda ruined the experience.”

“Well, my sincerest apologies to A-Ling. How is he? Did he like it?”

“What’s it to you? Let’s go inside,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but he matches his pace with Wei Wuxian’s anyway, walking by his side, and... yeah. Everything he needs.

He shoots one look back over his shoulder to see that Lan Zhan is walking with them, too, and resolves to just be happy about it - it’s only day two, after all. Only day two, and he’s already starting to feel comfortable again among these people - it’s easy enough for him, making new acquaintances wherever he goes, but rediscovering old ones? That’s vastly uncharted territory, so he’ll take what he can get.

One step at a time, Wei Wuxian. One step at a time.

Wei Wuxian brings the sun back with him to Gusu, and he has the audacity not to even realize it. Those first couple of days, he is everywhere - his laughter and his hollering echoes through the campsite, enough to elicit the children’s laughter and hollering, and when the keening tones of his harmonica join the fray, Wangji stops pretending like it doesn’t affect him.

He should be angry with him, for appearing out of nowhere and having it so easy - the kids take to him immediately, Sizhui and the others following him wherever he goes like a row of ducklings waddling after their mother, and even the younger ones, even the ones he’s still only learning the names of, grin whenever he walks into the room, and know to call him Wei-Gege, and sit and listen with bated breath when he plays for them...

He just naturally pulls all attention towards himself, not because he actively craves it or asks for it, but because it’s simply impossible not to look. Like the sun - and Wangji despises his own mind for coming up with these kinds of analogies - it’s also impossible to look at him for too long, at least for Wangji. He burns so bright, laughs so loud, smiles so genuine, it’s like he oversaturates the colors of the world around him just by being himself, and...

Alright, well. Wangji might have an undefined but very obviously Wei Wuxian-shaped problem, but that, he’s going to have to deal with on his own anyway. Or maybe not deal with it at all, his fifteen-year-old self whispers. Right.

The fact remains that Wei Wuxian is aflame with almost perpetuum mobile-like levels of energy all the time, and so seeing him... not like that is jarring, to say the least.

He disappears on that second night, right after Xichen’s briefing concerning tomorrow, and Wangji knows him better than to assume he would go to bed this early - he also knows better than to just go out there and look for him, but, well, if he stops by his cabin for that old book on tracking signs that Xichen asked for, and only so happens to run into Wei Ying, there’s no helping it, is there.

And if Wei Ying is nowhere to be seen, but Wangji still wanders deeper into the campsite, following a reasonable suspicion of mischief, based on what he’s almost certain are voices coming from the tents, well then, he’s just doing his job right.

...And if he’s the teensiest bit disappointed when he apprehends Sizhui, Jingyi and Zizhen all stuffed into one tent and chatting, and doesn’t find Wei Wuxian with them, nobody needs to know.

Where Lan Qiren used to have the kids mop floors or stand silent guard by the lodge for any and all transgression even approaching this, Wangji contends with simply making sure the boys are each in their own tent and bed, the promise of a much harsher punishment not a joke, which they all know and respect, and resolves to return to the lodge after all...

Which is of course when he catches sight of Wei Ying, at long last, and his heart performs a stupid little leap in his chest, the evidence of which is fortunately very easy to keep to himself.

The figure slouched at the very edge of the wooden pier leading out into the lake could be virtually anyone else, small and dark and outlined by moonlight, but Wangji knows , and his feet carry him over there of their own volition.

Wei Ying half sits, half lounges on the pier, one leg dangling off it and almost dipping in the ink-black water of the lake, and when he notices Wangji approaching, he only sighs heavily, which shouldn’t be so disappointing, but shows no sign of moving otherwise, which definitely shouldn’t be a relief.

“Lan Zhan,” he grumbles, “I know, I know, technically I’m out of bounds, I should sit on the edge of the lake and no further, I remember. I swear I’m not planning on breaking too many rules tonight, I just wanted to... I don’t know.”

“You’re also out past curfew, again.”

The words escape Wangji before he can stop himself, but to his surprise, they only elicit quiet laughter, and Wei Wuxian draws his legs underneath him, watching him with what he’s inclined to call a hint of amusement.

“Hey, you’re right,” he grins, “look at that. How many squats will you make me do? Fifty? A hundred?”

“Just keep your voice down,” Wangji scolds him, and then, because apparently there’s no kidding himself any longer, he orders: “Move.”

He gives Wei Ying no time to comment, simply sits down next to him, legs crossed - this, Wei Wuxian clearly doesn’t expect, and it even forces him to sit up straighter, at least a little bit, and stare.

The look he accosts Wangji with bears no dissecting, unless he really wants to upset himself - it could be misconstrued as fond, or even delighted, where it’s probably just good old-fashioned surprise, and the one truth he can cling to is the fact that he surprises even himself.

“Wanna make sure I don’t just cut my losses and swim to freedom, huh?” Wei Wuxian laughs, always the first one to try and force levity on any situation, and Wangji allows himself to watch him in turn, and doesn’t say any of the things he wants to say.

Yes. No. Maybe. Maybe I just need to make sure that you’re real a couple more times before I believe it.

“...Or that you don’t think to start singing in the middle of the night, and a campsite full of sleeping children.”

“Oh, give me some credit,” Wei Wuxian laughs, and Wangji shushes him without really thinking about it, which prompts even more laughter.

“Quiet, Wei Ying,” he orders, and Wei Wuxian holds his gaze for one shining moment out of time, taut like a guitar string, before he chuckles one last time, and goes back to irreverent slouching, hugging his knees like a child, resting his chin atop them.

“You remember, don’t you?” he mumbles, “how we used to hate the moon, right around Ambush night. Used to pray for it to go away so that it would be properly dark?”

Reminiscing, he can do - for now, and provided it doesn’t meander into... dangerous territory.

“I remember,” he nods, and Wei Ying smiles, blinking slowly, the aforementioned moonlight tinting his eyes silver.

“We’re gonna do Ambush this year, too, right?” he wants to know.

“Of course. Saturday, two weeks from now.”

“Nice. Just a fair warning though, I’ll crush you like a grape.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try.”

Wei Wuxian guffaws in laughter before he remembers himself, slapping both hands over his mouth, and Wangji hopes with all his might that the night hides the smile that tugs at his own cheeks.

“Lan Zhan! Okay, that’s it, you’re a dead man, just you wait. I was taught by the best. You remember, right? You remember Song Zichen? And Xiao Xingchen?”

Despite himself, Wangji does smile for real then, unguarded, and there’s no stopping the warmth that spreads out from his heart to all the rest of his body.

“Of course.”

Much like Wei Ying, even more so than him, Wangji grew up here, with these people - the staff naturally kept changing one way or another, counsellors coming and going, but the core of them, that would always stay the same for at least a couple of years. A stand-in for eternity in the eyes of a child, of course.

Song Zichen and Xiao Xingchen were his and Wei Ying’s team leaders when they were barely tweens, for about three or four years, before they, too, moved on - Xingchen was always good with the really small children, gentle, comforting and endlessly patient, while Zichen had a knack for wrangling the older ones, and together, they were unstoppable. Everyone called both of them Chen-Gege, and somehow, you always knew which one you meant, and so did they.

To Wangji, the memory of them represents the charm Gusu had when he was a child, the way the counsellors always seemed larger than life, somehow mysterious, and yet, every summer, they were as close to him as his own family.

“Oh my god, they were great,” Wei Ying echoes that sentiment, “I wonder what happened to them.”

Smiling is apparently a thing that Wangji just does now.

“I believe they got married.”

Wei Wuxian all but tumbles off the pier as he scrambles to sit up properly and look at him, mouth hanging comically agape.

“What?! You’re fucking with me.”

This smile is bordering on a grin, and if Xichen saw him now, he’d have a field day, some small part of Wangji despairs to realize.

“I am not. Xichen keeps in touch with them. And be quiet.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him mutely, obeying that at least, like he’s evaluating, and Wangji wonders if he’s even aware of the expression on his own face - somehow softer, gentler, a small, pleased smile lighting up his features, like he, too, is remembering those two always walking, sitting, coaching side by side, barely ever apart.

“Aw, but that’s sweet,” he decides at long last, rolling onto his back on the wooden planks, looking at the stars now, “good for them. Zichen-Gege always had the best stories. Did you know he was the one who first told me about the lake monster?”

“Of course,” Wangji snorts, allowing himself to relax a bit, too, leaning back on his hands.

“A great and noble tradition, if you ask me,” Wei Ying declares, “one I mean to resurrect as soon as possible.”

“You shouldn’t needlessly scare the children,” Wangji scolds him only half-heartedly.

“Are you kidding me? Being needlessly scared is how I learned to survive,” Wei Wuxian laughs, “at least it will keep them away from the lake at night.”

“Judging by what? Your willingness to stay away from it at night?” Wangji retorts, and knows he might have miscalculated just a bit when Wei Ying’s eyes light up with a very curious glint.

“Oh, so you do remember that, too.”

This is exactly the dangerous kind of reminiscing he didn’t want to get himself into, but fortunately, and perhaps against his very nature, Wei Ying doesn’t press him any further - oh he stares, and probably draws a whole lot of his own conclusions, but that’s really it. No ‘Let’s take a dip right now, then’, or ‘You think this time you’d actually join me?’, and Wangji pointedly doesn’t think in those terms, either - it’s lucky their conversation has lasted this long, to be honest.

“Lan Zhan.”

“Mm,” he hums, and when next he braves looking at Wei Ying, it’s to see that his eyes are closed, and he looks softer around the edges, years younger, which is... not doing a whole lot for Wangji’s state of mind, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

“I swear I’m just glad to be back. I promise I’ll do my best to behave, alright?”

Wangji can’t help but let his heart go a little weak at that - he doesn’t think Wei Ying even knows how fragile he sounds, how... Afraid isn’t the right word. Worried, maybe, just like Wangji is worried, that when he opens his eyes again, all of this will have proved itself to be just a particularly intricate dream.

“Wei Ying,” he says softly, and his hand itches with the need to reach forward and touch, map out the gentle brushstrokes of moonlight underlining Wei Wuxian’s features, so familiar and yet so changed. “Where have you been?”

He doesn’t really need to specify further - it’s been years, Jiang Cheng never said, you fell off the face of the Earth - because Wei Wuxian’s eyes fly open, infinitely dark and deeper than the night sky and the waters of the lake both, and show that he knows.

He opens his mouth, almost as if to actually respond, but then a shift happens in his face, a frown turned a crooked, sardonic smile, and he sighs, sitting back up.

“Ah, it’s late,” he rubs his forehead, as if he just woke up from a nap, “I’m gonna go get a beer, then hit the hay. Come on.”

And then he’s standing up, and offering his hand to Wangji to pull him to his feet as well, and if he weren’t so stupefied, Wangji would probably manage to be angrier with himself.

“Wei Ying-” he starts, but doesn’t think an apology would sit right with either of them - what is there to apologize for, anyway?

Besides, he sees it in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, recognizes that glint far too well for what it is, a silent plea, no matter how fraught - let’s not.

“I’ll tell you someday, alright?” Wei Ying even backs it up with actual words, although quiet ones, uncertain ones. “Just... not right now.”

He looks, if anything, terrified Wangji might actually push him more, and he himself doesn’t have the right words, not yet, to remind Wei Ying of what is, apparently, still true, even after all these years - you don’t have to tell me a thing. But you can, whenever you want to.

“Alright,” he exhales, and accepts Wei Ying’s hand, that and his face both all but radiating his silent gratitude, and lets him pull him to his feet.

The impression of Wei Ying’s fingers around his own burns long after that, but that, too, is left without a comment.

By the time they’re walking back through the campsite, Wangji has to keep shushing him every step of the way lest he wake up half the children with his loud plotting about lake monsters, and even despite the fact that he doesn’t learn anything conclusive that night, despite the fact that the second they step foot in the main lodge, he’s already conversing with about five different people who aren’t Wangji, Wei Wuxian makes it abundantly clear, in simply the way he is - they really are going to have to take this one step at a time.

And when Wei Ying slides into the free space next to him at some point that night, bumping their shoulders together, grinning like the sun and manhandling him into backing up this or that story from their childhood, Wangji sends out a silent but no less potent prayer to whoever’s listening, that he doesn’t spontaneously combust before they actually make it anywhere.

Chapter Text

Thirteen Years Old

“Hey, Lan Zhan, you’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

Even turning his head to look at Wei Ying is too much of a hassle, and Wangji sighs - the answer to that is unclear at best, but he’s currently in so much pain he’d probably prefer blissful unconsciousness.

“What are you doing?” he asks instead, his voice hoarse, each word hiding his fear of the actual pain returning - looking down at his leg is still impossible.

“I’m starting a fire, silly,” Wei Wuxian grins, kneeling by a pathetic little pile of sticks he’s gathered from god knows where. “I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. And who knows how long we’re going to have to wait.”

“You shouldn’t have come here in the first place,” Wangji points out, and Wei Ying sticks out his tongue at him.

“What, and let you have this lovely cave all to yourself? I don’t think so, buddy.”

So much like him, to make light of the situation - if Wangji had even a shred of energy left in him, he’d argue some more.

The truth of the matter is, he’s lucky anyone came at all - this year’s Ambush was going all wrong since the very beginning, but their excitement had them push through even with how cold it was, even when it started raining, the gentle hiss of it almost calming, providing that extra cover they all needed to make sneaking through the forest even easier. Only when the drizzle turned into a proper downpour did the Counsellors announce an early end, but Wangji hadn’t heard them - he was so deep in enemy territory at that point, tailing Wei Wuxian and his brother back to their hiding place and avoiding Wen Chao and posse at the same time, that it was very easy to completely miss the calls telling everyone to return to camp, and apparently even easier to lose his bearings and not realize it until he was standing toe to toe with the aforementioned Wen Chao himself.

“We’re supposed to return to camp,” Wangji announced somewhat pointlessly as Wen Chao glared, clearly in the mood to do everything but.

“Oh, I know,” he said slowly, “hope we don’t get lost. Right?”

“I know which way to go. Follow me.”

The rain was soaking them at this point, but even through it and the darkness, Wangji could recognize the danger in Wen Chao’s expression.

“Yeah, well. Sure you don’t want to go look for your boyfriend first? Such a shame he’s not here today to break my nose, again.”

Last year’s incident that almost got all three of them kicked out of Gusu evidently still weighed heavy on the boy, and Wangji would have argued some more, if a bone-rattling chill weren’t already settling in his very limbs.

“Let’s just go back to camp,” he’d sighed, choosing to ignore that comment thoroughly, which, looking back, might have been his first mistake.

He also probably should not have evaded the first punch with quite that much ease, because it only seemed to spur the bigger boy on, and before Wangji knew it, a fist connected with his arm, and everything after that was a blur.

He shouted at Wen Chao to stop, to leave it, but it was no use - at some point, he even considered retreat, but then his foot was catching on something, there was a strong push at his back, and suddenly, solid ground was disappearing from under him.

He’d landed with a wet crunch of a bone breaking and the echo of Wen Chao’s laughter in this very cave, his sharp cry of pain echoing in the small space, and it became very obvious very quickly that he wouldn’t be crawling back out without help - oh he tried, but he couldn’t even stand back up again, much less walk away, and he was sure he was doomed to spend the night here, until he heard familiar voices hollering his name, minutes, hours later. Before he knew it, he was responding, his own voice sounding entirely too weak and panicked to his own ears, and Wei Wuxian could be heard ordering Jiang Cheng to run back to camp and get help, and then a blink of an eye later, he was skidding down the dangerous slope himself to join Wangji in his own little personal hell, and he’d never been more relieved to see his face.

Wei Ying’s face twisted in poorly concealed horror at the sight of Wangji’s leg, and they decided very quickly not to touch it for fear of making it worse, but he was all laughs and jokes the very next second, and somehow, it’s been doing the job of keeping Wangji at least a bit calm. Deciding on a whim to keep Wen Chao’s involvement to himself, Wangji has been sitting completely hopeless like this for what could be ten minutes or an hour, and the pain has long since started getting the better of him.

“The camp isn’t that far,” he sighs, trying to adjust into a more comfortable position without agitating his injury, “help will be back soon.”

“Yeah, but have you seen Jiang Cheng trying to get his bearings? We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fall down a ditch and break a bone.”

Wangji huffs and closes his eyes, but before he knows it, Wei Wuxian is close to him, worry written all over his face.

“You need to stay awake,” he says with such intent that Wangji frowns at him, “I’m serious! Shijie says so, and she’s a nurse, so she knows what she’s talking about! Gotta stay awake when you’re losing blood. Come on, talk to me, and I’m gonna talk to you. Look, I brought my firestarter kit, we’re going to be warm in no time.”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji sighs, the cold and an approaching exhaustion, like a heavy blanket settling over his senses, muddling them, temporarily lifted when he gets a proper look at the other boy, “you’re sick.”

He’s white as a sheet, rain-drenched hair sticking in damp, curled strands to his cheeks, and his lips are already turning a bit blue - probably because he decided it would be a grand old idea to dress flimsily at best into the forest at night, no doubt citing the need to be as sneaky as possible, or something equally ridiculous.

“What? No I’m not. It’s nothing.”

That is followed by a wet cough that’s decidedly not healthy, and Wei Wuxian scowls, as if he’s disappointed with himself, and turns away, busying himself with his little not-quite-fire.

“You said you had a sore throat yesterday,” Wangji reminds him, if only to go along with his idea and keep talking to distract himself, “but I suppose Ambush is more important than your health.”

“It is!” Wei Wuxian laughs, “come on, we’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I couldn’t just sit in my cabin and let you win.”

“Stupid,” Wangji accuses him, and receives a huff of laughter for his efforts - miraculously, Wei Ying also succeeds at actually getting a fire going, sparks flying, the little firestarter tablet he brought with him god knows why sputtering to life, providing a thin, uneven flame that licks at the damp sticks, slowly drying them enough to burn as well.

“See?” Wei Wuxian exclaims victoriously, “always bring a fire kit! Zichen-Gege will be so proud of me.”

“I’m sure,” Wangji sighs, leaning back, resting his head against the stone - the fire might be small yet, but he can already feel its warmth seeping into his bones, lulling him to sleep.

“Lan Zhan.”

“Mm,” he mumbles - maybe they should come back here in daylight, see where the cave actually is, because he doesn’t remember even happening upon it before...

“Lan Zhan! Look at me.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles unhappily, trying in vain to shake Wei Wuxian’s hand off his shoulder, but obeys anyway, and the concern in his friend’s eyes is so genuine it almost makes him laugh, despite himself.

“I’m fine,” he sighs, the words coming out all slurred, “fine. Just need to rest.”

“You can’t rest,” Wei Ying says intently, “not right now, anyway. Soon. But you gotta stay awake a bit longer, okay? Here.”

Wangji watches blearily as Wei Ying shrugs out of his rain jacket and drapes it over him, instead, and he doesn’t even have it in him to protest. The thin layer of synthetic fabric does nothing either way, doesn’t significantly cool him down or warm him up, but he does feel marginally safer, tucked underneath it, but also much more like falling asleep right now.

“I wish I’d brought my harmonica,” Wei Ying babbles, agitating the fire, feeding it a bit, “then I could have played something for you. Maybe we should sing something together-”

Another coughing fit seizes him, and somehow, that is more effective at stirring Wangji out of his dizziness than his own broken leg.

“Sit,” he orders, “rest. Or... they’ll send you home.”

Wei Wuxian has the audacity to laugh at him, but he does fold himself into a surprisingly small space next to Wangji, hugging his knees tight, their shoulders bumping.

“They’re not going to send me home,” he counters, amused.

“It happens,” Wangji protests.

Short sicknesses, stomach aches and twisted ankles, Gusu can usually handle, but for anything more serious, the parents are usually contacted to come pick up their kid and take care of it themselves, and the idea of Wei Ying leaving early is suddenly eerily prominent in Wangji’s mind.

“If anything, you should be worried you’ll be going home,” Wei Wuxian reminds him fondly, “look at yourself. Some Ambush master you are.”

“I am home,” Wangji counters, and then, when the only response he meets with is silence, he adds: “There’s always next year. I’ll beat you then.”

“Oh please,” Wei Wuxian laughs, his body shaking a bit against Wangji’s arm, in what is another poorly concealed bout of coughing, “I’ll crush you like a grape.”

“You can try.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

It takes him far too long to realize - forcing his brain to register things feels like wading through mud - but the pressure against his side changes a bit, Wei Wuxian slumping against him, his head resting on Wangji’s shoulder. He must be exhausted.

“Wei Ying,” he mutters, “you shouldn’t sleep, either.”

“‘M trying,” Wei Wuxian sighs, “kinda want to be in bed, though. So cold.”

“Cold,” Wangji agrees, and his next move isn’t something he really thinks about, as such, but rather something that just feels like the right thing to do in that moment - he reaches around Wei Ying, one arm around his subtly trembling shoulders, and he doesn’t even have enough strength to really pull him closer, but he goes anyway, turning his body around to fit.

“They’ll be here soon,” he mumbles, and it’s unclear who needs the reassurance more, Wangji or him. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji repeats his name for no particular reason, mostly just to hear it, then adds a careful: “Thank you.”

His thinking is far from clear, and the pain is like cotton fluff suffocating all his senses, but he knows with absolute certainty how lucky he is that Wei Wuxian thought to turn around and look for him - maybe he didn’t even leave the forest when called, when he didn’t see Wangji returning with them, maybe he just ran into the darkness of it without a second thought... Something, some sort of realization, is trying to make itself known in Wangji’s mind, but he’s too tired for that, too weak. All he knows is the comforting weight of Wei Wuxian’s miniscule frame against his chest, the somewhat uneven rhythm of his breathing, and the beating of his own heart.

“Need to stay awake,” he mumbles, a reminder for both of them, but it’s not exactly going to work, he knows.

The melody comes to him unprompted, forming itself out of notes and chords he’s only improvised up until this point, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine teaching to Wei Ying, one tone at a time, until they both remember it, easy as breathing - he will, when they make it out of here, when they’re warm again. He will.

“That’s really nice,” Wei Ying comments, his voice feeble, like he’s a little kid, “what’s it called?”

Up until this moment, Wangji was almost sure he was already asleep, but when his own head lolls to the side, chin resting atop Wei Wuxian’s head, and it doesn’t meet with a comment or five, it’s obvious that that’s not far off.

He whispers the name of it into Wei Ying’s damp hair, never to be sure if he even heard him, and then the suffocating blackness eating away at the corners of his consciousness finally claims him.

“Wei Wuxian, I am going to skin you alive. What is this?”

He doesn’t even look that apologetic, simply helps the boy up on the table, so that she may crouch by him and investigate his... yep, rather profusely bleeding ankle.

“It’s just a scratch,” Wei Wuxian shrugs, patting the boy’s shoulder, “it’s nothing, right, A-Lian?”

“Nothing,” the thirteen-year-old is happy to agree, although he hisses when Wen Qing gives the area of the injury the first experimental pat down.

“This is the fifth kid you’ve brought to me in four days,” she accuses Wei Wuxian, “you’re setting records where none should be set. Take his shoe off.”

“Aw, relax, Jiejie,” Wei Wuxian grins, obliging happily, and he even has the sense to look a bit ashamed when she levels him with a glare at that nickname. “We went for a little walk in the forest, that’s all. Off the proverbial beaten path, if you will. We did not get lost, despite what some others might want you to believe.”

“We so got lost,” A-Lian adds conspiratorially, and Wen Qing rolls her eyes - disinfectant and gauze pads in hand, she sets about cleaning the wound, and discovers with some relief that it’s not quite deep enough for stitches, and thus Wei Wuxian will be allowed to live a bit longer.

“Yeah, I figured when you missed lunch,” she still remembers to remind him, and he scowls, I know, I know. “Nobody misses lunch.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he sighs, slumping on a chair closest to them the wrong way around, leaning his chin on its back rest, “but it was worth it, though, right? We almost found the lake, didn’t we?”

“The Lotus Lake,” A-Lian sighs dreamily, and Wen Qing is resisting the urge to laugh now.

“What? You do know that doesn’t actually exist, right?”

“Hey, just because it’s not on the map...” Wei Wuxian waves his hand in blatant dismissal of reality.

“You know, you might have more luck with the canoes.” That’s Lan Xichen, exercising his god-given ability to materialize out of thin air every single time, and he only inclines his head curiously as he looks over Wei Wuxian’s latest victim. “ If your team is still in one piece by that time. What happened?”

“Lan- zong!” young A-Lian almost topples off the table he’s sitting on, “it’s nothing, I swear! It’s just a scratch! We’re going back out in the afternoon, I can still go, right? We’re going to play The Great Wall, I can’t miss that!”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to me to decide,” Xichen smiles, sitting down next to the kid, checking over his bruised foot with a gentleness even Wen Qing can’t emulate on her best day. “What’s your verdict, Doctor?”

Three pairs of eyes are now looking at her, with various levels of mute curiosity, and she sighs.

“You’re perfectly fine,” she declares, finishing her work off with a nice wide bandaid, “just wear a sock over it and come back in the evening to show me, alright? Go on, run off.”

“Thank you!” A-Lian shrieks, all but somersaulting off the table, but he still waits for Wei Wuxian to nod at him before he actually obeys, and disappears outside.

“As for you,” Wen Qing turns to the real perpetrator behind seemingly every single bruised ankle and skinned knee this year around, and Wei Wuxian raises his hands in a defensive gesture at her finger pointing at him.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess,” she accuses him, “just check your children over for ticks, you hear? If you can manage to stay out of my infirmary for a day, you’ll get a gold star.”

“Nice!” Wei Wuxian grins, like he is, in fact, still thirteen as well, and makes to disappear as well, but is stopped by Xichen’s soft, but no less firm: “Wait.”

Wen Qing is not going to lie, watching him pout and slouch back into his chair like a scolded schoolboy is highly amusing. She busies herself with putting her supplies away, meticulously and slowly enough to listen to everything.

“You know I don’t mind taking the kids out on a trip that lasts longer than the allotted time for morning activities.”

Xichen never sounds anything but gentle, but he also has that incredible ability to make people feel bad about themselves just by smiling a little differently, and oh, he’s utilizing that in force with Wei Wuxian right now.

“I know. In my defense-”

“But it has to be an announced trip.”

“I know-”

“This one time it was alright, we had no trouble setting some food aside for all of you, but if it weren’t for Wangji calling me, I would have had no idea when you would be returning, and that simply won’t do. The schedule is there for a reason. It gives the children a timeframe for the day that they can rely on. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian pouts, “it wasn’t Lan Zhan’s fault, though, please don’t blame him. He tried turning us around at least a dozen different times, I swear. I just thought it would be fun to go exploring for a bit, and, well, the kids got really excited, and we might have lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

There’s something about him... Wen Qing wonders if Xichen can see it, too - something in the way he talks when he knows he’s made a mistake, like he’s suddenly five years younger and getting yelled at by Lan Qiren, and oh boy, do all of them remember what it was like to be at the receiving end of that. But fortunately for every single one of them, Xichen is the exact opposite of his Uncle.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he continues, proving that hypothesis, and when Wei Wuxian frowns at him, he only smiles some more. “It can happen again, whenever you want. Wangji tells me the kids were thrilled, and really, that’s all that matters at the end of the day. But you absolutely must let me know in advance, do you understand? Either so I can make sure the kitchen makes you food to take with you, or that I can come along. If anyone should be the first one to rediscover the Lotus Lake, you understand it has to be me.”

Wen Qing snickers discreetly, and Xichen’s smile has that amused quirk to it, as they watch Wei Wuxian open his mouth in protest, before the full meaning of those words really catches up with him, and he laughs, half relief, half disbelief, wagging his finger at Xichen.

“Almost had me there, not gonna lie,” he grins, then adds, a bit more solemnly, as much as he’s capable of that, anyway: “Thanks. I’ll make sure to let you know, next time.”

“That’s all I ask,” Xichen nods, “now please go explain to your team that lunch recess will not be extended on their behalf, just because they came back an hour late.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth forms a comically pristine ‘o’, but he only sighs and nods, getting up from his perch and sauntering outside - it’s only after he disappears that Xichen’s posture falters somewhat, and he shakes his head, although his smile never disappears.

“I can just slip something into his morning coffee, next time,” Wen Qing suggests, “whenever we happen to need him to sleep through the day.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Xichen chuckles, “he’ll settle down. Eventually. Wangji is doing a good job of keeping him in check.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Wen Qing decides, “at this rate, we’ll be out of disinfectant by the end of the week.”

“Will we really?” the concern is painted across his face, clear as day, “write a requisition for Uncle Four, he should be able to get you more by tomorrow-”

“Relax, Jesus, I’m kidding,” she hurries to reassure him, and makes a quick mental note to avoid kicking that particular puppy in the future, then adds: “Everything’s going fine. We’ve got enough material to last us the entire year. Don’t worry.”

That’s like asking the sun not to rise in the morning, and his face shows it.

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she nods firmly, “we’re doing just fine. We’re doing great. The kids are safe and happy, the infirmary is stocked, everybody’s doing their job like they’re supposed to, with a few exciting exceptions every now and then. It’s going to be a good summer.”

He’s staring at her like her words alone are sustaining him, like he wants to memorize every single one of them, his face open and vulnerable for that one brief moment, in a way he barely ever lets anyone see - then he sighs, nods to himself, and when he stands up, he’s the same old Xichen again.

“You’re right,” he smiles - how can any one man have an entire repertoire of dozens of different smiles for every occasion, she’ll never know. “Thank you. Let me know if you need anything.”

The problem with all of them, she decides as the day passes by slowly, pleasantly, without any further incidents, is that they’re just way too invested in Gusu - Xichen more so than others, of course, Wangji and him doing nothing less than protecting their childhood home, but she’d be a fool not to include herself in the equation. Even Wei Wuxian, coming back after years and years away like nothing’s changed, is a part of this, was once just a lanky kid with perpetually bruised knees who would come barrelling through the campsite yelling at the top of his lungs at least once a day, who would get into trouble seemingly just by existing...

They all grew up here, side by side, and sometimes the passage of all those years remains condensed into a handful of warm memories, sometimes it spreads out before her eyes in all its slightly intimidating span, but the sentiment remains the same - she can’t imagine not coming back here every summer.

The change that happened here, that even allowed someone of Wei Wuxian’s caliber to return, is difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t lived it, but where they once thought Gusu was done for, Xichen has managed to convince all of them to help him quite literally bring it back to life - even if he himself needs a bit of reminding, every now and then.

“...And then he just picked up a chicken and walked away with it. You should have seen Granny’s face. I think she’s still yelling at him.”

That’s the unmistakable excited voice of her brother, and she can barely stop him and Mianmian before they ruin her perfectly mopped dining hall floor - they get the memo in time, crawling up to sit on the table instead.

“Thank you,” Wen Qing sighs, “what are we talking about? Who stole Granny’s chicken?”

“Who do you think?” Mianmian laughs, and A-Ning explains further: “Apparently he was teaching the kids about... dinosaurs? And Lan-xiong and him got into a huge argument about the, uh...”

“The artistic value and historical accuracy,” Mianmian rolls her eyes.

“-Yeah, that, of Jurassic Park, and out of nowhere, I just hear Wei-xiong yelling about how he’ll show everyone, and the next thing I know, he’s leading the kids to the chicken coops, and they’re stealing a chicken, because they...? I don’t know?”

“Don’t ask me, either,” Mianmian shrugs when Wen Qing seeks at least a slightly more eloquent answer with her.

“It was for educational purposes!” comes a call from the hallway, and they sigh as one in fond exasperation - Wei Wuxian.

“I’ll show you educational purposes!” hollers Granny Wen, and the scene that unfolds before them, Wen Qing would classify as idiotically adorable - the first one to enter the dining room is actually Lan Wangji, looking for all the world to see like he’s been through the wringer, mentally and otherwise, expertly avoiding the mopped parts of the floor until Wei Wuxian uses him to try and fail to hide from Granny Wen chasing him with a ladle in her hand, because they apparently are all of them in a cartoon only vaguely resembling real life.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Wei Wuxian screeches, steering and positioning Lan Wangji between himself and the weaponized ladle, “it was all in the name of teaching! Education! Okay, maybe I just wanted to prove a point, but Lan Zhan wouldn’t believe me otherwise! Tell them, Lan Zhan!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji sighs, but Wen Qing notes how he’s very pointedly not moving away, choosing to indulge Wei Wuxian and act as his shield against the legendary fury of one Granny Wen. “Just because I disagree with you, doesn’t mean I’m encouraging you to go steal and torture a live animal.”

“Oh please! You said you’d believe it when you see it, how was I supposed to interpret that, huh? At least they know what dinosaurs walked like, now!”

“You tried to stick a plunger to a chicken’s ass, Wei Wuxian!” Granny Wen booms, and alright, that’s it - all the spectators burst into laughter, while Lan Wangji simply rolls his eyes, although the smile tugging at his mouth is definitely there as well, for anyone who knows to look for it.

“You did what?!” Mianmian cackles, and Wei Wuxian waves his hand gracefully, like they’re all just having a very academic discussion.

“I’ll show you later.”

“Not if I serve you for dinner first,” Granny Wen declares, and Wei Wuxian shrieks when she tries to whack him over Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“We are sorry for the disturbance, Wen-laoshi, ” Lan Wangji speaks to Granny instead, “our group has animal care tomorrow, we will make sure they work twice as hard to make up for today.”

Wen Qing wonders if either of them realizes Wei Wuxian is still hiding behind Lan Wangji, hands on his shoulders, peeking out at Granny Wen scorching him with her glare alone - one look at Mianmian and A-Ning tells her that she’s not the only one who finds the whole situation absolutely hilarious.

“The kids are not the ones traumatizing my chickens, Zhanzhan,” Granny Wen grumbles, and Wei Wuxian chokes on his laughter.

“Zhanzhan! Oh, I forgot she calls you that-” he sniggers, but when he receives a death threat within a glare from Granny and Lan Wangji, he wisely keeps his next words to himself.

“You do not go anywhere near my chickens, you hear?” Granny Wen accuses Wei Wuxian, although she herself is in very good spirits about the whole thing, too. “Or my donkey, or my plungers, for that matter! In fact, if I catch you anywhere in the general vicinity of my stuff again, you’ll be a part of my next congee!”

“Aww, come on, nienie, there’s barely any meat on me,” Wei Wuxian grins beatifically, and as fast as he came, he’s already disappearing again, pestering Granny Wen all the way back to the kitchens.

“Wow,” Mianmian comments.

“A plunger...” A-Ning demonstrates the concept they just heard about with his hands, “to a chicken’s... huh?”

“Wonder what’ll come up when I google it,” Mianmian mutters, and they’re bending over her phone the very next second, while Wen Qing redirects her attention to Lan Wangji - who’s still standing frozen in place, staring.

“So,” she says casually, “not even a week in, already stealing chickens, huh.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji responds, and unless she’s completely lost her knack for reading him, those are the remnants of an actual smile on his face. “For educational purposes.”

“Oh, I’m sure. I already extended this offer to your brother, but if you want me to sedate him at some point, even a little bit, I’ve got the means. Just... throwing that out there. Just say the word.”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, and he is smiling, there’s no denying it now. “Wei Ying is...”

“Ye-es?” she inclines her head - Lan Wangji never struggles to find the right words.

He opens his mouth to respond, but - and Wen Qing is wondering if anyone else can also feel the universe shifting around them with the shock of the realization - nothing comes out. He just stares some more, and then he smiles some more, and looks away, to where Wei Wuxian is probably being boiled alive by Granny Wen right now.

“It’s fine,” he repeats, and then walks away, and Wen Qing is left alone to mouth holy shit at thin air.

The problem is, she is reassured once again, still the same - they’re way too invested in Gusu, and by extension, each other. What they’ve built here over the years is nothing short of a second, found family all of their own, and welcoming someone, anyone new into their midst is unimaginable. But Wei Wuxian apparently isn’t just anyone. 

Oh, Wen Qing is glad to see him again - not that he needs to know that - but she must admit she had her... reservations, when Xichen first told her he’d be coming. After last year, inviting in an unknown into their little team felt like nothing short of a life-threatening risk, which Xichen still somehow managed to up by not telling his brother until the very last second...

But, and far be it from her to jump to conclusions, it seems that his gamble is paying off, because while he might not admit it out loud, ever, no one is happier to see Wei Wuxian return than Lan Wangji.

She keeps that realization to herself, as is her custom, but quietly wonders if he even realizes it - always so quiet, always so immersed in his studies, always working the hardest, and now, he’s relearning how to smile? Wen Qing is going to have to do two things, in whatever order they come up: subtly make it known to Wei Wuxian that he will be sedated, dismembered and cooked into soup if he so much as happens to put an actual frown on Wangji’s face, and find Nie Huaisang and finally start that betting pool they’ve been talking about.

It’s going to be a good summer.

Thirteen Years Old

He wakes up to the comforting, warm glow of the sun streaming in through the window of his cabin, and a quiet that can only mean an empty campsite - the second he tries to move, his entire body reminds him why exactly he’s been left behind this time.

The cast on his leg, all the way up to his knee, is massive, and last night’s events play out in his mind in flashes - the rain, Wen Chao, the cave, Wei Ying... The face of his brother, terrified as he woke Wangji up, as they carried him out of the cave, as he held his hand all night through at the hospital...

Wangji grunts as he tries to sit up, seemingly every single muscle in his body protesting at that notion, but he manages, somehow. His legs weighs about a ton, and he lowers it onto the ground carefully, but finds it fortunately doesn’t hurt much beyond a dull ache, for now. He discovers a pair of crutches leaning on the wall nearby, and his urge to go find Wei Ying, almost as strong enough as his need to eat and stop by the toilet before that, is enough to get him moving.

The sight of the campsite completely deserted and silent never gets old - it must be late morning at this point, all the teams away on their activities, and numbly, Wangji does the numbers in his head. There’s three more weeks of camp left, and judging by how sturdy the cast on his leg is, he won’t be joining his team any time soon. That means no canoe trip, no soccer, no walk up to the ruins, no second chance at winning Ambush, no running after Wei Ying...

“Zhanzhan! You should not be up and about!”

He makes it as far as the main lodge before he’s intercepted, Granny Wen hurrying to his side, clearly halfway through preparing lunch.

“I’m fine...” Wangji protests, and his gurgling stomach makes the rest of his argument for him.

“Come, sit down, I’ll get you something to eat,” Granny Wen orders him firmly, and steers him into the dining hall, seating him at the table closest to the kitchen, and disappearing to get him a plate of whatever smells so good right now.

“Wangji! What are you doing up? Go back to bed this instant!”

That’s Uncle Qiren, appearing out of nowhere, and Wangji sits up straighter on sheer instinct, his leg protesting.

“Uncle, I’m alright. I was hungry...”

“I was going to stop by your cabin right after this! You should not be walking around on that leg. There are pills you should be taking for the pain...”

“And how exactly do you expect him to get those down if he doesn’t eat anything?” Granny Wen fortunately intervenes, setting down an entire plate of broth in front of Wangji, while also somehow managing to push and elbow Lan Qiren into giving his nephew some space. “Eat, Zhanzhan. Then you’ll take your pills and go back to sleep.”

Suddenly feeling despondent for no obvious reason, Wangji thanks her quietly and goes about slurping the soup, while Uncle sits close by, glaring.

“What exactly happened last night, Wangji?” he demands, “how did you even get that far into the forest? None of the teams should have built their Ambush sites that far out of bounds.”

Briefly, he wonders if he should tell Uncle about Wen Chao, about how he most likely wasn’t where he was supposed to be, either, but decides against it in the end.

“I lost my way,” he mumbles, “it was dark, and raining, and I didn’t hear the call to come back. But, Uncle...”

“We spent quite some time looking for you, you know. What an idea from Wei Wuxian, to send his little brother to lead us to you. Ten years old, and terrified out of his wits, didn’t do us much good. By the time we found you-”

“Uncle,” Wangji interrupts him, the soup suddenly bitter in his mouth, “where’s Wei Ying?”

Lan Qiren frowns at him - he doesn’t appreciate being spoken over - but it’s Granny Wen who does the explaining: “He’s asleep in his cabin, too, poor thing. He’s running a fever something fierce.”

“He’s fine,” Lan Qiren dismisses it, “just a cold. You should worry about yourself first, Wangji. This cast has to stay on for four weeks, at least! That’s all the rest of your summer, ruined. I do wish you’d been more careful.”

“Oh, leave him be!” Granny Wen grumbles, “it’s not like he meant to break his leg, honestly.”

Wangji opens his mouth to protest, to apologize, but the truth of his Uncle’s words is beginning to really weigh on him - he hangs his head and finishes his soup, and hobbles over to his cabin afterward, before the blues really claims him. He does ask his Uncle to let him stop by Wei Wuxian’s cabin, but is, once again, dismissed, and he’s almost glad when he starts feeling drowsy after the painkillers, his head heavy and dizzy, and sleep finds him shortly after.

He wakes up again when the sun has long since started dipping below the horizon, to shouting and laughter coming from outside - must be before or after dinner, and everyone has returned, he decides, before he finally opens his eyes properly, and sees his brother sitting cross-legged on the floor by his bed, reading.

“Xichen,” he sighs, and immediately meets with a blinding grin, Xichen scrambling to sit up at the edge of his bed.

“Wangji! Hey! How are you?”

“Ugh,” Wangji comments, and Xichen laughs.

“Yeah, you gave us quite the scare! I brought you some food, here. Do you need anything else? Do you want to go to dinner?”

The next couple of minutes are spent listening to Xichen hazily recounting the events of the day Wangji just slept through, but at some point, Wangji just can’t stand it any longer.

“Xichen,” he sighs, “I don’t want to go away.”

“...Huh?” his brother inclines his head, “what do you mean, away? Where on earth would you go?”

“I’m useless, with this,” Wangji gestures vaguely towards his cast, “I can’t just spend the rest of the summer sitting around doing nothing, but I don’t... I want to stay here. I don’t want to go back to the city. Can you please tell Uncle...”

“Wangji,” Xichen chuckles, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “you’re not going anywhere, what are you talking about? We’ll look after you, right here. It’s going to be annoying, sure, having to carry you everywhere...”

“You will not carry me, anywhere,” Wangji says firmly, and Xichen is already laughing.

“Are you sure? I think I could persuade Uncle Four to lend me one of his wheelbarrows...”

“You can ride the donkey!”

That call comes from outside, specifically somewhere around the back window, all muffled and uncertain, and Wangji’s eyes widen, while Xichen gives him a very knowing look, and goes to investigate.

“Wei Wuxian,” he smiles, “how long have you been sitting there? You should be in bed!”

Sure enough, Wei Ying’s disheveled head pops up in the window, and Wangji makes to get up.

“Wei Ying! You’re sick!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m-” his reassurances are cut short by very familiar coughing, and before Wangji or Xichen can do a thing, he’s clambering inside the cabin, via the window. “I’m definitely better than you,” he adds, slouching on Wangji’s bed unceremoniously.

“You should both be resting,” Xichen declares, “I’m going to go stall Uncle so he doesn’t find out, but you’ll be back in your bed after dinner, Wei Wuxian!”

“I swear!” Wei Ying raises three fingers very solemnly, and Xichen shakes his head, sending a wink Wangji’s way before leaving them to it.

Wei Ying sighs in bodily relief, falling on his back on Wangji’s bed, and he does not, contrary to his own claims, look fine.

“You are sick,” Wangji accuses him.

“And you’re a cripple,” Wei Ying shrugs, “guess we’re both gonna have to make the best out of our terrible, terrible situation. I was serious about the donkey, by the way.”

“You... huh?”

“The donkey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian scrambles to sit up, suddenly taking care to sound very serious, like he always does when presenting one of his grand ideas, “Granny Wen’s donkey? Little Apple? For riding. Think about it, it’s perfect. You can’t walk, but there’s no way I’m letting you miss out on all the good stuff. So we just saddle Little Apple, I don’t know, pad her back a bit, and you can ride around on her. You can still come with us on all the activities, hell, she can carry you up the hill to the ruin! She’ll probably be faster than all of us! It’s going to be great. We’re doing this.”

“You-” Wangji opens his mouth to respond, but the words suddenly don’t come - there’s suddenly far too many of them.

He is so relieved to see Wei Ying in one piece, as relieved as he was last night when he saw him skidding down the side of that godforsaken cave to come rescue him, and the fondness unfurling in his chest takes him by surprise, to say the least.

“You’re an idiot,” he adds, after a moment’s hesitation, and when Wei Ying scowls at him, wounded, how dare you, he never adds what he feels in his heart to be true - and I’m so, so lucky to have you.

“Fine, have it your way,” Wei Ying pouts, and seems to embark on some sort of singularly important mission a second later, leaning over Wangji to rummage on his desk close by.

“What are you doing?” Wangji demands.

“Do you at least have a marker... There!” Wei Wuxian exclaims victoriously, then sits up and uncaps the stolen contraband, declaring: “Everyone and their mother is going to want to doodle on your cast, you know. But I’m going to be the first.”

Wangji can only watch mutely as the picture takes form under Wei Wuxian’s quick, erratic strokes - there’s so much he wants to say, but the words never really form themselves. He can only stare at the concentration in Wei Ying’s slightly flushed face, and try and dissect the strange sort of warmth that spreads out from his heart to all the rest of his body at the sight. He’s not going to be able to do much of anything this summer, with or without a donkey carrying him everywhere, but he finds, all of a sudden, that he doesn’t mind all that much - as long as Wei Ying is there. As long as he’s there.

“They’re not going to send you home...?” he mumbles, “because you’re sick?”

“Ha, please!” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even look up from his handiwork, “they’d have to drag me away from here by force! Besides, I’ll be okay in no time, just you wait. There! All finished!”

Wangji is forced to actually tear his eyes away from Wei Ying’s face then, but when he sees what shape his friend’s plaster cast masterpiece has taken, everything else takes a backseat.

The rabbit is highly stylized, but still distinctly detailed enough as to be really impressive, and maybe if it weren’t for the bow around its neck, or the little heart it seems to be sending Wangji’s way with a wink, or Wei Ying’s messy signature, Wangji might be able to control his emotions better.

“Like it?” Wei Ying grins at him, tapping the cast gently, “the ink will probably seep into the plaster over time, so I’m just gonna have to keep repairing it, but it’s nice, right?”

Wangji would like to respond, he really would, but - and surely it must be the combination of the painkillers and, and everything else - he’s quite incapable of it.

“Wei Ying,” he manages at long last, embarrassingly hoarsely, “thank you.”

I’m so, so lucky to have you.

“You’re welcome!” Wei Wuxian grins, scrambling to his feet, “listen I’m gonna go get dinner, and then I’ll probably pass out, but can I come see you later? I suppose we’ll both still be stuck here tomorrow during the morning activities. I’ll bring the donkey!”

“Do not bring the donkey,” Wangji warns him, but then an idea forms itself, before Wei Wuxian can run out and disappear from him again. “Bring your harmonica, instead. There’s a song I want to teach you... If you can play it. Is your throat too sore?”

“It’s fine!” Wei Ying laughs, “okay, I’ll bring it, I’ll bring it. Lucky it’s just your leg that’s broken, huh? At least you can still play the guitar.”

“Yeah,” Wangji smiles, “lucky.”

Okay, so he might be pushing his luck a little bit, he decides when Granny Wen’s ladle finally connects with his backside, and he has to spend the next twenty minutes helping her prepare dinner, but in his defense... In his defense, this is the most fun he’s had since he came here.

Getting a little bit lost in the forest was largely unplanned, he’ll admit as much, but the kids were so into it, and he had so much to tell them about tracking and stuff, that he might have forgotten to check the time in... well, in time. 

And in Lan Zhan’s defense, once he got to talking about the nature around them, going off on a tangent about this or that super interesting fact to do with trees and root systems and whatnot, he, too, forgot to pester Wei Wuxian about turning back, long enough for both of them to realize they should have been back for lunch ages ago.

And it’s... okay, so Wei Wuxian will admit to being a bit nervous - Lan Xichen is as polar an opposite of his Uncle as they come, but he’s still in charge, and he still has some interest in upholding the Gusu law, or whatever. As is his baby brother, but in Lan Zhan’s case... Ever since their talk at the pier, it’s been a bit easier, being around one another. A bit more effortless, a bit more like it used to be. Not perfect, but then, when was it ever?

He’ll be lucky, he decides, if Lan Zhan is even willing to talk to him, after today - getting them lost in the forest is one thing, but then immediately that afternoon, Wei Wuxian simply can’t help himself. Starting pointless, hilarious little arguments is, after all his forte! No one can fault him for that, especially when he gets the kids on his side - before he knows it, Jingyi and him are sneaking into the chicken coop while Sizhui and Zizhen patrol the perimeter, and the pandemonium that ensues is... Well, it’s what he remembers being best at. Thirteen-year-old Wei Wuxian stealing the donkey would be immensely proud of him, he decides.

But he is going to have to apologize to Lan Zhan, preferably before today is over, if his glare is anything to go by - something tells him tomorrow’s animal care session will find him joining the kids for some hard work cleaning out the chicken coops, while Lan Zhan unleashes a succession of told you so’s.

Sometimes, Wei Wuxian ends up being epically, amazingly wrong, but no one can fault him for not predicting that, either.

The evening finds him all over the place, as usual - there’s soccer to be played, and false leads about the scavenger hunt to be masterfully dispersed among the populace, and little girls to be allowed to chase him around the campsite until at least half a dozen of them climb his back at once and he probably hears something crack as he goes down... He only realizes it when the first bell tolls - he’s completely forgotten to come up with a lullaby for tonight.

“Mianmian, quick!” he finds the nearest victim as she wrangles about three seven-year-olds at once, convincing them about the benefits of brushing teeth by force, “what do the little kids like for a lullaby these days? Huh? Hey kids! What do you listen to that’s not, you know, moody as hell and everyone knows it?”

“Ooh, are we going to sing all of us together?” Mianmian beams, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that three small children are hanging off her various limbs.

“If you help me come up with a song and spread the word, yeah.”

They settle on a rendition of A White Windmill, which is as far from a lullaby as it gets, but it’s long enough so that it will last them until they walk throughout the campsite, and literally everyone knows it back and forth - Mianmian does help him spread the word, and by the time Wei Wuxian is doing his rounds around the tents, he realizes he forgot to check in with Lan Zhan - Lan Zhan, whom he hasn’t seen all evening long, and who isn’t even here right now, and hey, that’s a little unusual to say the least.

“Xichen-xiong called him in about something,” Nie Huaisang explains when all of them, all the counsellors, gather in front of the main lodge, “but that was some time ago...”

“We’re here, we’re here. White Windmill, is it?”

That’s Xichen, and he might look a bit uneasy, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t really get a chance to dissect that, because his eyes immediately go to the guitar strapped around his shoulders, and the one around Lan Zhan’s.

Lan Zhan, with a guitar, about to play with them. Glaring at him like he’s daring Wei Wuxian to say a single damn thing about it. Like he doesn’t even care that the sight alone is enough to make Wei Wuxian go weak in the knees. Like it’s no big deal.

“Hey, uh,” the right words are suddenly extremely difficult to find, not to mention a tone of voice that doesn’t betray the full extent of his giddiness, “you guys are here.”

“Observant,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes.

“Are we doing this?” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

“Who’s going to start singing?” Mianmian wants to know, “don’t say me. It can’t be me.”

“I’ll do it,” Xichen chuckles, “provided we’re ready? Are we?”

It takes Wei Wuxian some time to realize he’s actually the one being asked - maybe if he could stop staring at Lan Zhan for five seconds. Is that or is that not the beginning of the faintest smile on his face? Is Wei Wuxian not getting incinerated on the spot for being an idiot today, then?

Are they actually going to play together again, after all these years?

“We’re ready,” Wei Wuxian nods, bringing the harmonica to his mouth, and somehow, he succeeds at not choking on his first intake of breath when Lan Zhan cradles the guitar’s neck in the very first chord position - they don’t even have to talk about it beforehand to know which one’s the right one.

It’s been years, and once you get past that initial uncertainty, it’s apparently still as easy as breathing.

It’s been years, and Lan Zhan still falls into step by Wei Wuxian’s side, and his guitar still sounds amazing, the perfect counterpart to the high-pitched wailing of the harmonica, and every time Wei Wuxian dares glance his way as they slowly walk through the campsite, Lan Zhan is looking away, but he still plays, and he still smiles, invisible to anyone who hasn’t been watching him smile for a lifetime.

It’s been years, but somehow, there’s still a place for all this in Wei Wuxian’s life, and a place for him in the life happening right here, right now, and he’s inclined to call it luck.

Chapter Text

“Jiang Cheng, pass! Pass, dammit!”

It’s no use - his brother ignores him very thoroughly, choosing instead to go the long way round, the ball all but glued to his feet as he sprints his way past the veritable gaggle of children charging him, electing to pay no mind whatsoever not only to Wei Wuxian’s offers, but everybody else’s as he aims for the goal. Not even Jingyi, fast as lighting, can intercept him in time, and the audience erupts in cheers as Jiang Cheng scores, high-fiving anyone and everyone close by.

“Yeah yeah, real mature! Great teamwork!” Wei Wuxian hollers, taking some time to catch his breath, “wouldn’t kill you to cooperate!”

“We’re lucky he’s on our team,” Wen Ning comments as Jiang Cheng preens like a peacock for the clapping masses, extremely pleased with himself in that understated way of his Wei Wuxian so wants to make fun of.

“That’s one word for it,” he huffs, brushing sweat-drenched hair away from his eyes, readjusting the headband holding most of it in place.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy soccer - it’s a grand old tradition, the counsellors playing against whatever team the kids manage to cobble together every other evening, which usually means it’s a handful of the oldest boys and then about a dozen shrieking seven year-olds stumbling over one another in pursuit of the ball... 

But that’s precisely why it doesn’t do to take it too seriously, come on, Jiang Cheng. It serves as a way to kill time in the lazier evenings, something for everyone to watch and cheer on, something to tire out even the most energized little kids before bedtime, not a chance to flaunt your impeccable footwork - not that Wei Wuxian’s cocksure baby brother seems to have gotten the memo.

But then, this has been Jiang Cheng’s domain since he himself was a kid here, and Wei Wuxian won’t begrudge him the opportunity to boost his ego with teenage praise - same way he won’t begrudge himself the opportunity to have some fun of his own.

Very aware their team has been playing shirtless for the past twenty minutes, and he is therefore on just the right side of disheveled and sweaty, he signals for a break, and all but dives head first to his spot in the shade, where Lan Zhan sits still as a statue, watching everything with his usual neutral face of mild displeasure. Okay, so there might be other people sitting there as well, Nie Huaisang hiding behind his frivolous little fan and hoping he doesn’t get called on to play next, and Zizhen plucking at his ukulele while avoiding the same, but Wei Wuxian only cares for the once-over he receives from Lan Zhan, anyway, as he lands in the grass next to him, laying on his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Good game, huh?” he grins at Lan Zhan, and only receives a quirked eyebrow for a response, but it’s fine, it’s all good - he doesn’t need to look to know that Lan Zhan is watching as he huffs, lies on his back and drinks from his bottle in big, thirsty gulps. “You should join us,” he adds afterwards, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, perfectly aware the water is dripping down his bare chest, and Lan Zhan’s jaw clenches an almost imperceptible amount at that display. So easy.

“Watching doesn’t get you all gross and sweaty,” Nie Huaisang comments, slapping his side with a towel sharply enough to make him squeal.

“Depends on what you’re watching, eh?” Wei Wuxian comments eloquently, burying his face in said towel, very pleased with the scoff that that effort grants him.

And so on, and so forth - Jiang Cheng might kick him in the shin once or twice, completely by accident of course, and the kids might get a bit too enthusiastic at some point and trample all over one of their own, but all in all, it’s good fun - until, of course, the one being trampled is Jin Ling, and okay, Wei Wuxian might not have exactly been watching where he was going, he might have been sending a wink in Lan Zhan’s general direction instead, but this happens, right? Kneeing children in the head. Sure. The compassionate hiss of pain that echoes through the audience might beg to differ, but alas.

“He-ey, whoa there!” he doesn’t miss a beat, lifting the kid up in one sweeping arc before he loses his balance, a firm believer in the healing power of distraction, “gotta watch where we’re going, eh? Hard head! My knee is mush! You okay?”

Jin Ling contemplates that for a second, deciding on the appropriate amount of pain his body should be in, and judging by the wailing that follows, Wei Wuxian half decapitated him when he wasn’t looking.

“Aww, buddy, oh no! I’m sorry!” he hurries to salvage the situation, “you’re gonna grow a second head now, with that bruise! Come on, let’s sit you down, it’s going to be okay...”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng is already marching over, “what the hell are you doing? What did you do?”

“Oh my god, nothing, calm down,” he sighs, “it’s nothing, right, bud? Conked his head a bit, is all...”

“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling wails, and if Wei Wuxian wasn’t torn before, the kid all but wriggling from his arms to end up Jiang Cheng’s is definitely enough to poke at some old wounds.

“His nose is bleeding!” Jiang Cheng accuses him, “god dammit, can you not watch where you’re going, for once in your life? Come on, A-Ling, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to protest, but it’s no use, anyway - Jiang Cheng just marches away in the direction of the main lodge, and leaves him to announce an early end to the soccer match and disperse the kids, or rather shout those orders in Huaisang’s general direction as he’s running after Jin Ling with his Jiujiu.

The sensible thing would probably be to leave them alone, but when has Wei Wuxian ever been willfully sensible in his life?

By the time he makes it to the infirmary, Wen Qing and Granny Wen are already clucking around Jin Ling while Jiang Cheng hovers nearby, and when he sees the look on his face, Wei Wuxian almost turns right back around and walks away. He’s kneeling by Jin Ling’s side, holding his hand and probably feeding him quiet reassurances, it’s impossible to tell at this distance, but all that Wei Wuxian knows is that his brother looks soft, softer than he ever remembers seeing him.

Looks eight years old again, back when the two of them would have made a picture just like this, back when Wei Wuxian was the one to blow on his bruises to make them better, and ruffle his hair and tell him not to worry.

All of that, all of the fondness, disappears from Jiang Cheng’s face in a flash when he spots him, though, and Wei Wuxian is reminded, not for the first time this summer, and definitely far from the last - right. Not exactly those kids anymore, are we.

“Hey, big guy,” he directs his attention towards Jin Ling instead, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s mounting hissy fit at even daring to come closer, “how’s it looking? Yeesh, there’s a lovely little shade of purple. Someone’s gonna have a blueberry nose!”

“Keep your distance,” Wen Qing warns him, “I’ve half a mind to reclassify you as a weapon of mass destruction in your contract.”

“‘M fine,” Jin Ling mumbles, somewhat muffled by the cloth Wen Qing is pressing to his nose to catch the blood, “can we go play again?”

“Sorry pal, the match is over for today,” Wei Wuxian winces, “don’t worry, we decided the kids were the winners this time, since you so bravely sacrificed your lovely little snout for them.”

Jin Ling doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just laughs a bit uncertainly - score, Wei Wuxian grins at Jiang Cheng, who decidedly doesn’t grin back. Rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to elbow him in the ribs, Wei Wuxian pats Jin Ling’s shoulder instead.

“I’m really sorry for, you know, kicking you to high heavens,” he says very solemnly, “can you ever forgive me?”

Jin Ling looks from him to Jiang Cheng, his face automatically emulating his Uncle’s scowl, but he still grumbles: “Maybe.”

“Ah, good enough, good enough,” Wei Wuxian grins brightly, “thank you.”

“Fetch me a cold compress from the fridge,” Wen Qing orders him, “and find a t-shirt to put on while you’re in there.”

Clearly, Jiang Cheng thought the command was meant for him, because he all but races Wei Wuxian to the staff fridge that hides, aside from their beers, a veritable mound of freezable gel packs - Wei Wuxian sees it coming, so he reaches their destination first, and picks the perfect time to position his foot just so that Jiang Cheng trips over it, a very undignified yelp escaping him.

“Get out of my way!” Jiang Cheng assaults him half-heartedly, the two of them struggling to open the fridge door at the same time, and Wei Wuxian cackles, holding his brother’s fists at bay with an ease that hasn’t changed since Jiang Cheng was, in fact, eight years old.

“You know what, how about we split the workload,” he suggests, “ you bring the ice pack, and I put a t-shirt on. We both know whom our dear doctor would rather ogle shirtless, am I right?”

This does take Jiang Cheng by surprise, and Wei Wuxian can hear the insult halfway out his mouth, but it never comes.

“Oh my god, you are an idiot.” Or rather, it doesn’t come as powerfully as usual.

“Wha-at?” Wei Wuxian shrugs innocently, “just looking out for your happiness. Not so much Wen Qing’s, you are skinny-”

That punch connects, knocking the wind out of him, and as he doubles over, wheezing dramatically, Jiang Cheng snatches the prized ice pack and makes his way back to the infirmary without further comment - when Wei Wuxian manages to regain the ability to breathe evenly again, he follows, and can’t help but think he’s getting somewhere, at least.

He’s not going to pretend like it doesn’t hurt like a bitch, coming toe to toe with Jiang Cheng time and time again, but he has to do it - Shijie would want him to, is the base level reasoning he usually goes with, but also... They’ve got more than a month ahead of them here, and as long as the span of it looks now, Wei Wuxian knows it’ll fly by so fast he won’t even be able to notice. He could spend the entirety of it avoiding Jiang Cheng, sure, but the urge to noogie him in true brotherly affection any chance he gets is stronger than him, most of the time.

“Wei Ying.”

With Lan Zhan, on the other hand... It’s easier, and somehow infinitely more difficult at the same time.

For example right now, he’s carrying Wei Wuxian’s towel, water bottle and gross sweaty t-shirt in one neat bundle, giving all of it back to him, and what exactly is he supposed to make of that, huh?! He wants to be friends again, he wants that more than, well, anything, and sometimes, he even believes they’re getting there, but there’s always this... Like a block of ice, a thick, impenetrable wall of it around Lan Zhan’s innermost thoughts, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know if he can ever scale it, or break through it, or, hell, if he’s even allowed to.

Sometimes, he almost thinks he might gather enough courage to say some more words of his own, honest ones, that would make Lan Zhan realize he can do the same, but he’s chickened out every single time so far. Ah well. They’ll get there - probably - and until then, he can just pester all of them, Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng, even little Jin Ling, by being unapologetically himself, and see where that gets him.

“Aww, so kind, Lan Zhan,” he accepts his disgusting sweat bundle from him, pretending like he doesn’t take his sweet time putting his t-shirt back on as they head back outside, “say, you actually might have seen more of Jiang Cheng than me, over these past couple of years. Did Wen Qing and him ever...?”

The glare Lan Zhan levels him with is sharp enough to cleave mountains in half, but Wei Wuxian only winces.

“What? He had a massive crush on her, don’t think I don’t remember. I mean, I know it’s been years, but I just figured, you know? Nothing like the, uh, particular genius loci of Gusu to bring people together, right?”

Lan Zhan only stares some more, seemingly completely oblivious to the children beginning to swarm around them, as they are now standing smack in the middle of the main square.

“...You’re right,” he says at long last, and before Wei Wuxian can make his excitement be known, he nips it in the bud: “It’s been years. Things change.”

And with that, he turns around and leaves Wei Wuxian standing there, wondering if he’s missed something, just one more moment to convince him that his little metaphor regarding the distance between them is accurate as hell - giant wall of ice, and him hoping to melt it down with a matchstick.

But it wouldn’t be his first time starting a forest fire where he previously thought nothing could burn... Okay, he should probably stop coming up with stupid metaphors, and go change into a clean t-shirt, right? Right.

It’s good - ninety nine percent of the time, it’s good. Everything’s working out. He spends the rest of the evening on a mission, tailing Sizhui, Jingyi and Zizhen as they pretend to not at all sneak around the back of the campsite by the rope bridges in search of their next scavenger hunt trophy. They’re the undisputed champions so far, and are becoming a bit too cocky, but if Wei Wuxian has learned anything, it’s not to underestimate Nie Huaisang - the trophies the boys have managed to find all fall firmly within the ‘consolation prize’ territory, as Huaisang calls it, nothing that he didn’t mean for them to find. Sometimes, Wei Wuxian feels like helping, but then he’s almost sure that if anyone will come out on top at the end, if anyone has even the faintest chance of besting their resident unassuming riddle master, it will be Sizhui and the others.

He’s not going to lie, he loves the kids - they’ve really grown on him. They’re inventive, hilarious, and sometimes downright stupid in the same way he remembers being when he was their age, and they are up for any and all mischief, as if they know it’s the one surefire way to his heart. 

He doesn’t even have to explain himself too thoroughly for them to just automatically agree to his request that day, and they spend a good thirty minutes tailing Jiang Cheng all over the resort, Sizhui doing the sneaking, Jingyi the distracting, and Zizhen performing the honorable duty of always playing his ukulele very loudly whenever Jiang Cheng threatens to get too close to Jin Ling’s cabin, where Wei Wuxian is having some quality bonding time with his grumpy baby nephew.

Not that he couldn’t handle his brother on his own - not like he’s afraid of him or anything - but it gives the boys something to do, and gives him the opportunity to actually listen to Jin Ling without Jiang Cheng constantly complaining and interrupting.

Surrounded by a herd of friends his own age, the kid proves to be surprisingly talkative, and surprisingly good at captivating a crowd - something he no doubt gets from his big political fish of a father - and Wei Wuxian is just happy he’s allowed near, considering he’s the cause of the nicely colored bruise smack in the middle of that cute face. He sits in the door of Jin Ling’s cabin, coaxing absentminded half-melodies out of his harmonica, and listens to the kids chatting about dogs, and their favorite video games, and their dogs’ favorite video games, probably, and thinks, okay. 

Okay, as long as it’s like this for the next month, he might even be able to take Shijie up on her offer, and gather enough courage about him to actually go see all of them in Yunmeng, and not feel like he’s going to throw up at the mere mention of it.

He only realizes his eyes were blissfully closed when the familiar plucking of a guitar forces them open, and wonder of wonders, he manages not to ruin that moment - he only smiles at Lan Zhan when the melody allows it, and they go through a whole improvised sequence that comes mostly out of nowhere, before Lan Zhan is extending his hand to him.

“Come on,” he beckons him surprisingly gently, “the first bell is about to toll.”

Wei Wuxian only realizes now how dark it’s gotten, that he’s clearly lost track of time, but it doesn’t really matter - he lets Lan Zhan pull him to his feet just as the first bell does, indeed, toll, and the kids giggle and shriek as they scurry to get their hands on their toothbrushes.

Lan Zhan watches the little pandemonium with about the same fondness Wei Wuxian himself feels, but there’s a certain... something, to his look, some kind of worry hiding underneath, and, well, Wei Wuxian has always been shit at picking his moments, but he’d regret it if he didn’t try.

“Hey,” he does what he does best, stealing his way into Lan Zhan’s personal space just a little bit, “you okay? You look... you know.”

Lan Zhan blinks at him mutely for a moment, children running this way and that around them like they’re just two rocks in a particularly loud river, and he seems to be evaluating whether to say anything at all, but then he sighs, and allows it.

“It’s Xichen,” he admits, a bit stiffly, but at least he’s saying words, “he will tell us at the briefing tonight.”

“Tell us what?” Wei Wuxian inclines his head, careful not to sound too overtly curious, “what happened?”

Again, Lan Zhan is deciding if he should continue, if he really wants to be sharing whatever is weighing on him with Wei Wuxian, and he needs to be extra careful not to let his face show how much he wants him to do just that.

“Our Uncle called,” he admits at long last, and Wei Wuxian could cry, he’s so relieved.

“Oh boy, Lan Qiren?” he scowls, “what about?”

And Lan Zhan is about to continue, he so is, but then something changes in the pitch of the omnipresent noise around them, a great Woah! Coming from the direction of the showers, half excited, half scared, and they don’t have a choice, they have to head that way.

Determined that no burst pipe sending water spouting ten feet high will ruin his chance to actually talk, Wei Wuxian leaves his harmonica in Lan Zhan’s care - gotta keep the guitar away from the water, shoo, shoo, he winks at him - dashes at the speed of light to switch off the water supply, getting thoroughly drenched in the process, helps corral the children away and back into their cabins, all in time for the second bell to be only slightly delayed, but it’s too late by that point.

“Xichen will tell us in the briefing,” Lan Zhan repeats himself, and then has the gall to dismiss him, handing him his harmonica back, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t dream of not going through with the lullaby, a little tradition at his point that he himself has started, just for the chance to ask him more questions, but he is tempted.

And curiouser and curiouser, since Xichen doesn’t, in fact, tell them anything - he doesn’t turn up for the song, which becomes somewhat quieter as a result, missing the loud chords of his twelve-string and the dulcet tones of his voice, and when he does show up to commence the briefing, he does so almost ten minutes late, a thing unheard of until that night. It’s over far too quickly even for Wei Wuxian’s tastes, their duties for tomorrow distributed swiftly and efficiently, and then Xichen disappears again, as fast as he came, and much to Wei Wuxian’s chagrin, Lan Zhan follows him shortly after.

He ponders gossiping some more, but Nie Huaisang is already pulling out the cards, and he can smell popcorn being made, and decides against it in the end. He wedges himself next to Jiang Cheng instead, bringing him a beer he didn’t ask for, and busies himself trying to calculate what the likelihood of Lan Zhan not going to bed immediately and returning to them might be - before the opportunity to tease the shit out of his little brother arises again, that is, and although Wei Wuxian is the one who ends up embarrassed, it’s worth it for the look on Jiang Cheng’s face. For making him laugh.

“Look, I’m just saying,” he declares, well into his second beer and casually not at all cheating under the table, “playing an instrument just automatically improves your chances, you know? Take Zizhen, he whips out his ukulele and has half a dozen girls on him the very next second. Jiang Cheng, do you want me to teach you? I could probably teach you, like... the flute. Maybe a chord or two on the guitar.”

“Yeah yeah,” his brother waves his hand, completely missing Huaisang stealing a glance at his cards in the meantime, “in your dreams. Besides, not like your instrument is doing you any favors.”

“Oh, I think it’s doing me a world of favors, my friend,” Wei Wuxian grins, “trust me, just, like, hold a guitar for once in your life, you’ll see it improves your entire image.”

“Just because you are into guitar players doesn’t mean the rest of us give a shit,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, and Wei Wuxian takes it in stride, if he does say so himself.

“Yeah yeah,” he emulates Jiang Cheng, “alright then, not a guitar. Hey, Wen Qing, what instrument do you think would look good on him? Be honest now.”

“I honestly don’t care,” she quirks one eyebrow.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Wei Wuxian attempts to kick her under the table, but receives a very precise, very sharp jab in the shin instead. “You think he’s dreamy.”

“I think you’re an idiot,” she counters effortlessly.

“I’m warning you,” Jiang Cheng growls.

“Aw, come on, I remember what you two were like when we were, what, fourteen or something. That first love, lasts ya until your dying day, they say. I think they say that. Somebody does-”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng sighs the long-suffering sigh of every tortured younger brother, “I am begging you to shut the fuck up.”

“No no, wait, I want to hear this,” Mianmian leans in, a truly delighted grin - that should have, in hindsight, been enough of a hint, “what is it they say about first love, huh?”

“Oh, you know,” Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, throwing one arm around Jiang Cheng, even though he’s immediately assaulted, “it’s like- ouch, it’s like this. You never forget the first person to make your little heart go a-flutter. That girl playing nurse on your bruised knee when you’re twelve and your extremely handsome and chivalrous older brother isn’t there to take care of you. That weird kid who won’t stop kicking the ball your way every single soccer match just for the off-chance you’ll throw it back to him.”

“...That quiet kid you jump into a cave for and spend the entire night comforting before help arrives- yes, Wei Wuxian, two can play at this game-”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Wei Wuxian grins innocently, even as he’s suffocating Jiang Cheng with both his arms around his stupid head, trying to lock him into a chokehold. “My point is, what better catalyst for those budding feelings of romance to really come to fruition- ouch, calm down, didi - than the beautiful, slightly moldy Gusu campsite?”

Mianmian is cackling at this point, as is Nie Huaisang, while Wen Ning looks on in amused confusion, and his big sister appears about ready to murder him.

“You are an idiot,” Jiang Cheng finally manages to wriggle free of his death grip and abruptly stands up to go get himself another beer, “please someone tell him so I don’t have to deal with this anymore.”

“Ah, but my dear brother- wait, tell me what?”

“You want to do the honors?” Mianmian turns to Wen Qing, and she rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

“All yours,” she sighs.

“Okay, tell me what?” Wei Wuxian looks from one to the other, “which one of you is dating my brother? Oh my god, Wen Qing, did you actually get camp married while I wasn’t here?”

“I should be recording this,” Nie Huaisang mutters under his breath.

“Neither of us is dating your brother, Wei Wuxian,” Mianmian looks absolutely delighted to be the one to break the news, “might get a little awkward, considering we’ve been dating each other for a while now.”

And silence, which is directed at him so painfully it’s kind of staggering - he looks from Mianmian to Wen Qing, to Jiang Cheng watching from afar, a very amused look on his face, and the laughter he feels building up inside of him, well, that one is shared, and it’s kind of delightful, really.

“Oh holy shit, she broke your heart!” Wei Wuxian hollers so dramatically that everyone starts laughing even harder - even Wen Qing is grinning as she leans across the table and smacks him upside the head, in unplanned unison with Jiang Cheng, having made his way back to sit next to him, two beers in hand.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “she did no such thing.”

“Aww, it’s so noble that you can be a gentleman about it, didi, ” Wei Wuxian sighs sadly, and tries again to throw one arm around his brother’s shoulders - this time, it’s allowed to stay a little bit longer. “Especially seeing as you actually never had a chance. My goodness.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Jiang Cheng says suspiciously calmly, but his true intent becomes very clear, when he waits for Wei Wuxian to take the first swig of his beer to really elbow him in the side and make him choke on it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice until now,” Mianmian shakes her head even as her shoulders are still shaking with laughter, “we haven’t exactly been keeping it a secret or anything.”

Well, he sees it now, that particular fondness in Wen Qing’s faint smile as she looks at her - it warms his heart, as well as tugs at something deep inside it at the same time.

“Well, in my defense...” he starts, but retcons that quickly: “You know what, nope, I’ve got nothing. My apologies, ladies.”

“You really are the unreliable narrator of your own goddamn story,” Nie Huaisang offers, and Wei Wuxian looks at him with wonder.

“Oh, that’s good. You are absolutely right, and I’m stealing that.”

So yeah - as far as he’s concerned, being the class clown? Totally worth it, for the smiles it puts on people’s faces. Especially if his brother’s face happens to be included. The unreliable narrator of his own story - that might be the most accurate description of him that anyone has ever attempted, and as they toast to summer camp romance, Wei Wuxian can’t help but wonder if that, and being the class clown on pure instinct alone, will come back to bite him in the ass.

If? When, more like. But for now, there’s Jiang Cheng to try and annoy with a slightly lewd guessing game about the number of girls he’s kissed, and for that one evening, it’s enough. For that one evening, it lasts him.

“Xichen, don’t you think that-”

A very loud burst of laughter from downstairs interrupts him, and despite himself, Wangji flinches - Xichen only smiles some more.

“It’ll be fine,” he offers reassurances he himself barely believes, Wangji can see it in his face. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Uncle is going to actually show up here halfway through our summer, and demand solutions.”

“Not him I’m worried about,” Wangji points out, and maybe it’s just the lack of light in the room, nothing but Xichen’s laptop and the small tabletop lamp next to it providing a weak glow, but it looks like his brother’s face sinks even more, before he shakes his head and stands up.

“Don’t worry,” he repeats for about the hundredth time in just these past couple of minutes, “I’ll keep you posted. No surprise visitors, I promise.”

“There’s no telling,” Wangji presses on, “if you’d just let me take a look at the deed-”

“Didi, it’s fine,” Xichen insists, but he only ever calls Wangji that when he doesn’t want the conversation to dig too deep - that, and his hand on Wangji’s shoulder, manages to worry him even more. “There’s no need to go over the deed, not right now. Right now, we’ve got dozens of kids to take care of, and it’s not like Gusu will just disappear into thin air while we’re not looking. We’ll deal with this in August, after we send the kids home, we’ll have plenty of time then. I told Uncle as much, and I’m not budging on that, okay?”

“But-”

“No buts,” Xichen says gently, but firmly, “please don’t spend the next month worrying yourself silly over this. We’ll deal with it, just like we’ve dealt with everything else up until now.”

“You will worry,” Wangji accuses him, and Xichen chuckles.

“Well, of course I’ll worry, that’s my job. But the children come first, as long as they are here. You and I both know that. Uncle hopefully still knows that.”

Wangji feels the faintest beginnings of frustration tugging at the edges of his concentration, but he dismisses it - doesn’t ask what he really wants to ask, because Xichen very clearly wants this conversation to be over already, but it weighs on him anyway.

And Jin Guangyao? , he wants to remind his brother, does he know that? Will he respect that?

But he doesn’t. For now.

“Tell me when he calls next,” he says instead, “I’d like to be there.”

I’m not twelve anymore. Let me help you.

“Alright,” Xichen nods, and the smile barely reaches his eyes. “Now go, sounds like they’re having fun downstairs.”

“You come, too,” Wangji suggests, a notch above outright pleading.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” Xichen lies through his teeth, “you go on ahead.”

There’s no use pressuring him further - Wangji only sighs and closes the door behind himself as gently as possible, walking down the stairs slowly, instinctively avoiding the parts of them that creak and crack.

He dislikes not knowing what to do next - this past year, he’s seen much less of Xichen than he’d prefer, his studies always keeping him all but chained to campus, and thus hasn’t really had the time to look after him as much as he’d prefer. He carries the sadness well, but it’s still there, when one knows where to look, and Wangji has always known where to look - he just wishes Xichen had the same confidence to talk about his own troubles as he does when coaxing Wangji’s out of him.

He lingers at the bottom of the stairs, and listens - some sort of half-hearted argument has broken out in the dining hall where everyone’s sitting, the laughter and the loud accusations carrying all the way here. He recognizes Wei Wuxian’s voice well, playful and loud on the backdrop of whatever music is blaring from someone’s speaker, and he finds himself longing to go in that direction, to sit with them, and just look and listen.

But that would inevitably come with questions, where have you been, where’s Xichen, what have you guys been up to up there, and he doesn’t have all the answers, not by a long shot. Either way, he wouldn’t be good company.

He heads for his cabin instead, perfectly alone in the silence of the slumbering campsite, allowed to just think. There’s tension in the air, the silence a bit too deep, only the occasional gust of wind sending a murmur through the swaying branches of the pines, and Wangji finds himself slowing down every now and then, if not outright looking back over his shoulder - it’s stupid, he supposes, but he almost expects to hear someone’s hushed calls as they run out after him, to ask him what’s wrong, to hear him out.

It’s stupid how much he needs that, in the span of those three minutes it takes him to cross the distance between the main lodge and the stuffy quiet of his own cabin.

Stupid, he decides as he lays on his bed in complete pitch black, not even bothering to switch on the light - he stares at the ceiling for the longest time, and it’s only when the first raindrops start softly tapping at the roof, that he manages to relax enough to go to sleep.

Morning finds Gusu weathering a deluge - the rain shows no sign of stopping, pouring off the roofs and forming huge puddles in the square by the main lodge, which some children dutifully avoid, and some on the other hand see as the perfect opportunity to get even wetter .

Coming up with indoor activities on the go is always a hassle, but they manage, herding most of the children into the dining hall where Nie Huaisang runs his usual craft corner, with the audience now expanded by dozens, and Wen Ning pulls out board game after board game. Mianmian in turn takes some of the youngest children to the relative quiet of one of the bigger cabins for a reading circle, and those who’d much rather just spend the morning on their own, are allowed to do so - a thing unheard of from back when Wangji was a child. 

Back then, there always had to be some sort of plan, some schedule to adhere to, some activity you had to partake in, whether you liked it or not, and thus rainy days always proved unnecessarily stressful for everyone involved. This, too, is something that only changed after Xichen took over, and Wangji would like to reassure him that it still works, that it was a good choice, but he barely sees him that day, always only catching a glimpse of him running off somewhere, where he would usually sit with his guitar somewhere visible, surrounded by attentive listeners. Nobody is better than him at always knowing which song to pick, or which story to tell to enthrall the kids, but today, he evidently shoulders some of the stress they manage to eliminate otherwise.

Wangji, Wei Ying and him clamber around in the attic, pulling out tarp after old plastic tarp, which they then carry to the tents, where some of the children have reported leaks. It quickly turns out, however, that the tent that’s leaking the most is actually Wei Wuxian’s - a fact that he’s apparently perfectly willing to overlook if it means the kids get to sleep dry tonight.

“Might be time to invest in some new canvases, huh,” he comments effortlessly when they finally manage to fasten his tarp in place, seemingly entirely unperturbed that half his clothes are probably soaked now.

“We get a couple of them fixed every year,” Xichen replies absentmindedly, checking the sizable gap in the waterproofing layer, “that’s all we can afford. I’ll definitely mark this one down to go first, this time around. Please refrain from-”

“Touching the canvas when it’s wet, it compromises the waterproofing, yes, I remember,” Wei Ying grins, reciting that rule perfectly, “it’s a shame you do fix them, because we painted some good stuff into them when we were kids...”

“Don’t give these kids any ideas, please,” Xichen huffs a laugh, but it just sounds incredibly tired - they’re all drenched to the bone at this point, muddy and exhausted, and the day is only halfway over.

The afternoon offers a welcome reprieve from the worst of the rain, at least, and Wei Wuxian helms the group of the most resilient older children, who, like him, are becoming stir-crazy - they don’t even get an hour of playing in the forest, though, before an ominous roll of thunder signals that the weather isn’t in any way finished with them, and drenches them to the bone, again.

After that, the fireplace in the main lodge is properly stoked, until it burns hotter than a furnace, and everyone brings in their wet clothes and shoes to lay them out to dry. Spare ropes line the ceiling, window to window, for the clothes to hang on, and before they know it, the dining hall resembles a stuffy laundry room, more than anything.

Unanimously deciding among themselves to be lenient, they announce that a movie will be played after dinner, but before that can happen, Wei Wuxian throws together an impromptu band made up of... pretty much everyone in possession of an instrument, and leads the kids in song to kill time until the food is ready. Wangji admires him, admires the tenacity and seemingly boundless energy with which he entertains the kids when they need it most, but he himself feels a bit of a stress headache coming on - too much noise at too high a volume, too many people all at once, with too little reprieve all day long.

He allows himself to catch his breath, for a couple of minutes at least, before the room really fills with people when dinner commences, and escapes through the storage area and out the back, to hide in the nook by the chicken coops, where Uncle Four and Granny Wen can usually be found smoking and talking - not so much when they’re busy preparing dinner, but where Wangji would expect a bit of solitude, he finds Xichen instead, on a call, standing still and quiet, shoulders tense.

Wangji immediately feels like complaining, he really did want to be a part of the next talk with Uncle, but this is... That’s not Lan Qiren on the phone, he realizes immediately after Xichen turns to him, and his face is... stricken, there’s no better word for it, and pale as a sheet.

He listens to his brother offer response after one-word response, his voice so small Wangji fights the urge to take the phone from him and hang up for him, and when he finally does, Xichen means to shrug it off and run away, that much is obvious, but Wangji doesn’t let him.

“Was it him?”

“Wangji...” Xichen protests, but Wangji still takes a step, two closer, the rain soaking him.

“What did he want?”

Wangji doesn’t let him, and so they argue, both tired and frustrated beyond belief, which is something they never do - the shrill tolling of the dinner bell, that Xichen does use as an excuse to walk away from the conversation, and Wangji closes his eyes against the throbbing in his temples, and only follows because he must.

His headache reaches catastrophic levels during mealtime, wrangling loud and unruly children, but he powers through, his vision blurring a bit more each time someone shouts a bit too loud, or the door slams close a bit too sharply - he hasn’t had one of these, a proper migraine, in quite a while, and the logical thing to do, he seems to remember, would be to remove himself from the source of it, but seeing as the entirety of his job for the rest of the evening is, in fact, the source of it, that proves a bit difficult. Besides, he still really needs to talk to Xichen...

“Lan Zhan! You gonna help me with the- hey, whoa, are you okay?”

He only realizes it now, that he’s leaning on the wall next to the staircase in a bit of a miserable heap, and makes to stand straight, but before he can take one step, Wei Wuxian is... far too into his personal space, one hand on his arm, unabashed worry in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, somehow remembering to keep his voice down, which is hilarious, considering seemingly the entirety of the building is alive with a hundred different sources of painful noise.

“It’s- nothing,” he turns away, “just a headache. It’ll pass.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember those,” Wei Wuxian winces, “tell you what, go get some rest, yeah?”

“Can’t. The movie-”

“Huaisang and Wen Ning are already on it, come on, it’s pressing one button,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, and Wangji has enough wherewithal about him to realize he’s being steered outside, but not enough strength to fight it.

“Wei Ying...”

“Go, off to bed with you. I’ll fetch you a painkiller and some water. You can take one evening off, I’m sure.”

“You don’t...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t, but you do. Want me to walk you to your cabin? Can you manage?”

At that, Wangji scoffs, but suspects that Wei Wuxian can see straight through it, anyway - the air outside is so much colder than in the stuffy lodge, and it eases the pain somewhat, so that it’s no longer quite as blinding, but he can’t deny it’s... a bit more serious than previously thought.

“I should-”

“Buddy, there’s a world of things you should be doing right now,” Wei Wuxian’s hand is still on his arm, a gentle, guiding pressure, “but how about you let me take over some of them, huh? Go, go to bed, turn the lights off, and wait for me, I’ll bring you that painkiller, okay? I’ll tell Xichen you’re not feeling well, although from what I’ve seen of him, the feeling might be mutual.”

“He’s... There’s something we have to talk about-”

“And I’m sure it will still be there tomorrow. But now, you need rest.”

In his current state, it becomes impossible for Wangji to argue - he really is inside his cabin before he knows it, the silence and the solitude immediately soothing the worst of his pain, but now that he’s away from the children, and the majority of his duties, he realizes exactly how tired, how bone-deep weary , he actually feels.

Methodically, he sheds layer after drenched layer, and somehow manages to crawl into bed in some dry clothes before there’s the softest knock on his door, and apparently he has not dreamt Wei Ying in the slightest, because he’s actually standing there, a bottle of water and the promised painkiller in hand - he clucks around him like a mother hen, making sure Wangji makes use of both, and then has the audacity - the audacity - to look that tender as he sits on the side of Wangji’s bed and tucks him in - tucks him in - like he’s just one more child he’s so good at taking care of.

“There you go,” he almost whispers, “now for the finishing touch.”

Before he can say a word in protest, Wei Ying places a cold, wet cloth on his forehead, and Wangji can only hiss at the sensation, which earns him a chuckle.

“Nice, right? Okay, now get some rest. I’ll come check in on you later.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Find, then I’ll send Wen Qing, she’s plenty worried already, anyway.”

“No, I-”

He isn’t entirely sure how his hand finds Wei Ying’s, but his fingers are freezing under Wangji’s own - and he hasn’t stopped all day, hasn’t changed out of his stupid-bright red raincoat all day, and his tent is leaking, and the rain shows no sign of stopping...

“You rest, too,” Wangji mumbles, “wear dry clothes.”

He might end up regretting legitimately all of this tomorrow, but for now, his brain-to-mouth pathways are dangerously direct.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wei Ying laughs quietly, “who’s taking care of who here, huh? Go to sleep, Lan Zhan. Besides, I don’t even think I have dry clothes right now. Turns out my tent is seriously soaked. Might have to crash on the craft room couch tonight.”

“There’s a spare bed right here.”

Right, and that would be the painkiller kicking in, rendering his self-awareness completely nonexistent - Wen Qing clearly knows her stuff.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian laughs a bit awkwardly, “that’s sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. Now, seriously, rest. Close your eyes, go on. Want me to sing you a lullaby or something, hm? Oh, I wonder if we’re still going to do the big one tonight, we’ll have to figure something out...”

Wei Ying doesn’t, in fact, sing him a lullaby, but his usual chatter must do the job just as well, because Wangji doesn’t remember much beyond that - blissfully ignorant, he drifts off, and when next he wakes up, it is to a darkness and a silence that signals it’s long past curfew.

He sits up in his bed, startled a bit by the cloth sliding off his forehead, and stares into space until he can find his bearings. Pleased to discover that the headache has now subsided to a dull pressure and some lingering nausea, Wangji scrambles around in the dark to put some more layers on - it’s getting properly cold now - and drink his water. He feels feeble at best, but already, he can tell that this fortunately isn’t something that will be sticking with him past tomorrow. Just a momentary weakness.

He curses when he hits his shin on the side of his desk, and mere seconds after that, he hears a knock on his door, again.

“Oh, so you are up,” Wei Wuxian is smiling at him from the doorway, “I thought I’d check, in case you were, I don’t know, delirious and knocking over furniture. How are you feeling?”

It’s impossible to tell how long he’s been hovering out there, waiting, and he’s wearing a huge puffy jacket that looks too big to be his own - after some staring, Wangji recognizes it as one of the old “official” Gusu ones nobody ever puts on - and... bermuda shorts and flip-flops, for some godforsaken reason.

“I’m alright,” he confesses, “better. But you-”

“Oh, this?” Wei Wuxian gives himself a once-over, like he’s only now realizing what he looks like, “yeah, turns out I have, like, zero dry clothes right now. Everything’s drying in the dining hall. My tent is pretty much done for, it looks like. And then we had to run out again a while ago, one of the tarps blew away, and-”

And that is very clearly the telltale shudder of chills, and Wangji sighs.

“Why aren’t you by the fire?” he demands, even as Wei Wuxian already follows his unspoken invitation and comes in, “do you even have a sleeping bag?”

“Ugh, it smells like wet feet in there, no thank you,” Wei Ying scrunches up his nose, “it’s enough that I’m going to have to sleep there tonight, not looking forward to that- huh?”

He barely intercepts the bundle Wangji throws at him, and stares at it dumbly.

“What is this?”

“Something dry for you to wear, for a change. Put it on.”

It’s a pair of Wangji’s very old, very frayed sweatpants, and he’s just lucky his mind doesn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed right now, as Wei Wuxian gapes at him like he’s just been offered the most precious gift.

“Aw, Lan Zhan, you don’t have to, I’ll be fine-”

“You’ll catch your death like this,” Wangji dismisses him, “ change. Do you or do you not have a functioning, dry sleeping bag?”

“Ah, I thought I’d just crawl under some blankets in the craft room,” Wei Ying confesses, suddenly grateful and slipping out of his shorts way too eagerly, “all the spare sleeping bags have gone to the kids, you know, the ones who get cold at night...”

Wangji lets him babble on while he changes, and turns on the small tabletop lamp at least, the dim light of which his still somewhat uneasy disposition can withstand - he cleans the second bed in the cabin, the one he usually just uses to put away his books and guitar, then reaches around Wei Ying - he’s forgotten how cramped the space gets when there’s, well, more than one person in it - to pull out the extra blanket he never uses.

“Stay here tonight,” he orders, “we’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

Wei Ying is watching him with something approaching intense interest now, and Wangji dares him with his glance alone - what? - before the moment snaps, and Wei Ying slumps on the bed, complaining even as he crawls under the blanket offered to him: “I don’t know, Lan Zhan. Do you snore?”

“I do not.”

“Hmm. Guess I gotta see it to believe it. You’re really okay with this?”

“I’m the one offering, Wei Ying. For tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, no, of course! For tonight. I like sleeping in the tent better, anyway. Fresh air, and all that.”

All that’s visible of him now is the nose peeking out of the duvet, and his eyes, gleaming dark and attentive in the dim light, and Wangji is suddenly very aware they’re watching him as he moves about the small room, crawling into his own bed, taking one last swig of water.

“Are you really okay?” the mound of blankets formerly known as Wei Ying asks him, “do you need another painkiller?”

“I’m fine. It’s passed now. Mostly.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian sighs, burrowing even deeper into the sheets, “you gave me a bit of a scare.”

Wangji’s finger hovers over the lamp’s switch, but he does turn the light off at long last, and the room sinks into darkness again. Wei Wuxian’s bed creaks as he squirms in it, and Wangji lies stock still in his own, staring at the ceiling. This is... maybe he should have given it more thought, but extending the offer seemed like the only logical thing to do in the moment. No matter that he hates sleeping with other people in the room. No matter that Wei Ying hardly classifies as other people.

“Lan Zhan,” comes a whisper so quiet it’s almost inaudible, like Wei Ying doesn’t want to wake him up in case he’s already fallen asleep, but still has to say something, and Wangji smiles into the darkness.

“Mm.”

Wei Wuxian stays silent for so long Wangji is beginning to think he either didn’t hear him, or has decided against whatever he was going to say, but then he heaves a sigh and mutters, almost as if he doesn’t want Wangji to hear that, either: “Thank you.”

The rain resumes, again, the gentlest murmur on the roof, and Wangji closes his eyes, pulling his blanket all the way up to his chin. He is warm, and he is, against all odds, comfortable, and somehow, he’s not at all worried about sleeping through the night, even with Wei Ying around to throw a wrench into every single one of his habits.

Wei Ying, who didn’t think twice about taking care of him, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and probably spent the rest of the evening running himself ragged, in his... his stupid shorts and flip-flops. If he doesn’t wake up with at least a runny nose, it’ll be a miracle.

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly, “and thank you, too.”

To that, no other reply ever comes, and if Wangji lies awake until he hears Wei Wuxian’s breathing settle into the familiar, slow rhythm of sleep, if... things begin falling back into place inside of him, tiny cogs relearning to turn again in the complicated machine of his heart... If he only so happens to have a realization that night of all nights, barely two weeks into their summer, somewhat cold and still half woozy, then he’s confident he will be able to keep it to himself. Probably. Somehow. Right.

Chapter Text

Fifteen Years Old

“Wei Ying! Stop it!”

He’s only realizing it now, how much effort he has to actually exert to keep him still - Wei Ying’s hand is shaking, still balled into a fist, despite Wangji’s iron grip on his wrist. He’s shaking all over, actually, seconds away from launching across what little space they’ve managed to clear between him and Wen Chao, and Wangji realizes, swiftly, all at once, that he might not be enough to hold Wei Wuxian back.

“Let go of me, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying snarls, “I’m going to break more than his nose!”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try!” Wen Chao hollers, even though it’s muffled as he presses his hand to his face, the blood clearly visible through his fingers. “Come on!”

“Screw you!” Wei Wuxian growls, furious, all but tearing away from Wangji’s hold, ready to pounce again.

“Stop it!” Jiang Cheng leaps forward, probably to stand by his brother’s side, although he just as well might be trying to stop him from advancing.

“What the hell are you two doing?!”

The change is immediate - the small audience they’ve gathered around them parts almost too quickly as Nie Mingjue comes striding in, Xichen swiftly following, and they stand firmly between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao, a barrier that does not bear crossing.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Nie Mingjue roars, the sight of him enough to put a stop to it all, tall and broad, holding two scrawny teenagers at bay like he’s interrupting two puppies brawling, “no, stop it, enough! No more punches, or I’ll start throwing some! Everybody calm down, and start talking! Wei Wuxian, why the hell is Wen Chao’s nose bleeding, huh?”

“He knows what he did!” Wei Ying retorts, “he was asking for it!”

His hand frees itself from Wangji’s grasp, but he doesn’t miss the way it lingers, squeezing his wrist in return - it’s barely two seconds, but it’s trying to tell him, I’ve got this. Don’t worry.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes, “main lodge, both of you, now. Let’s go!”

“But-!” Wen Chao protests, but Nie Mingjue grabs his arm, as well as Wei Ying’s, sharp enough to make him yelp.

“No buts! We’re going, right now!”

Wangji can only watch helplessly as Nie Mingjue steers the two away, as the crowd around him slowly disperses, everyone muttering and speculating, and his own head buzzes with the implications of what just happened - Wen Chao wasn’t the only one bleeding, Wei Ying’s split lip and the quickly coloring bruise around it hopefully enough evidence that the fight wasn’t at all one-sided... He still can’t help but think he should be there right now, by Wei Wuxian’s side, to help explain, because he knows Wei Ying will choose to stay petulant and silent, instead of actually talking about what happened, he knows Wen Chao will try to spin his own story...

A hand on his arm stays him, doesn’t allow him to follow, and he only realizes then that Xichen is still by his side, watching him intently.

“Wangji,” he says softly, “please tell me what happened.”

“It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault,” Wangji exhales, and it comes out quick, almost desperate, “Wen Chao cheated yesterday.”

“You mean during Ambush?” Xichen inclines his head - without any pressure whatsoever, he’s gently steering Wangji towards his cabin, and just this once, Wangji lets him.

“Yes. Built out of bounds, again. Misdirected anyone who got near - we found... Wei Ying and I found some kids wandering the woods. Young ones. Completely lost. They said Wen Chao told them to go that way. Some were even from his own team-”

He knows he’s talking too fast and making very little sense, but the urgency with which he needs at least Xichen to know what happened, is getting the better of him. Wei Ying has plenty of other reasons to get into trouble - this shouldn’t be one of them. He explains as best he can, the images from yesterday’s Ambush still clear in his mind - the unusually hot night, the moon hanging clear in the sky, making hiding a bit more difficult... Dashing through the forest by Wei Ying’s side, snatching victory after victory, until they heard the fearful chatter, and happened upon the kids, no older than eleven or twelve, completely lost. Until the sole goal of the night became finding Wen Chao’s hideout and asking him some questions.

“Wangji...” Xichen is staring at him, confusion warring with anger in his face, “why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”

“I did. I told Jin Guangyao. You weren’t around. It was late. He said we would talk about it more today. Then Wen Chao provoked Wei Ying, and we confronted him. You saw the rest.”

Xichen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and in perfect unison, they sink to sit at the doorstep of Wangji’s cabin.

“A-Yao hasn’t mentioned it yet,” Xichen admits, “but then today has been a bit wild. This little fight is definitely no improvement. I’ll tell Uncle. Hopefully if Wei Wuxian can explain everything honestly, we’ll be able to clear everything up. He still broke a rule-”

“Wen Chao broke more,” Wangji shoots back without thinking, and Xichen actually chuckles, patting his knee before getting back up to his feet.

“I don’t doubt it. I’ll go check on them now. I’ll make sure Uncle knows to ask you your side of the story. As for Wei Wuxian-”

“Please tell Uncle it’s not his fault,” Wangji repeats himself, and only allows himself to sigh and slump forward, elbows on his knees, his chin resting in his hands, when Xichen disappears back towards the main lodge.

It’s only been two weeks out of six, and already Wei Ying has gotten into far more trouble than many of the previous years combined. This time, he came back to Gusu even louder, even brighter - Wangji still remembers the flutter his heart made when he heard the hollered ‘Lan Zhan!’ on that very first day - and there’s been no stopping him since. Selfishly, Wangji wants to remind him that this is their last year as campers, and the way they get through it will have a lot of bearing on whether they are allowed to come back as Junior Counsellors next time. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that for himself, the position is a given. He doesn’t want to think about the possibility of Wei Ying not becoming the same, a possibility which becomes more and more tangible with every rule broken.

He doesn’t want to think about all of this, their memories, the new ones they’re making and the old ones waiting for them around every corner, speeding past them so quick they barely have the time to grasp at it.

He doesn’t get to see Wei Ying again until much later on - he doesn’t come to dinner, his usual space by Wangji’s side empty and cold, and he isn’t at the soccer match that takes place a bit later, either. Wangji does go there, along with the rest of the crowd, mostly hoping to find Wei Wuxian where the action is, but when he fails even there, his nerves start getting the better of him, and he returns to the campsite proper.

What kind of punishment could Uncle have come up with? Is Wei Wuxian currently locked in his cabin for punching someone in the face? Are him and Wen Chao mopping the entire length of the dining hall, again? Wangji’s brother didn’t say a thing, only told him not to worry, before Mingjue and him went off to their favorite pastime, outmatching ten-year-olds in soccer...

“Lan Zhan!”

He almost jumps out of his skin, the quick succession of shock, annoyance, and immediate relief when he sees Wei Ying before him, probably frying some of his brain cells. But Wei Ying is here, and he is smiling - no, grinning - at him, and he looks relatively unscathed, and...

“What happened?” Wangji exhales, still not entirely sure some horrible piece of news isn’t waiting around the corner, “are you in trouble?”

“Lan Zhan, when am I ever not!” Wei Ying laughs, “yeah, no, it’s mopping duty for me tonight, and a couple other nights, but I think Wen Chao might actually be kicked out!”

Wangji blinks at him, once, twice, processing, and Wei Ying’s grin turns up to brilliant.

“I know, I couldn’t believe it either! I thought Lan Qiren was going to kill both of us, but then he actually heard me out! Or, well. We’re lucky we told Jin Guangyao last night, because he kind of... supported me, I guess? It was all pretty confusing. They’re definitely going to call our parents, so that will be a hoot, but Wen Chao is in so much trouble. They’re going to talk to the kids who got lost, and they’re definitely going to want to talk to you, but! Justice, Lan Zhan! Justice, even if I have to mop the dining hall every single night until August!”

He’s all but bouncing up and down now, and his enthusiasm is simply too bright, too exhilarating, not to become infectious - his lip is split pretty bad, the bruise already coloring, but both of his hands are holding one of Wangji’s, and it’s such a reversal of earlier, when Wangji was trying to hold him back, so soft and nice, that he doesn’t even mind the unannounced physical contact.

He’s never really minded it, with Wei Ying.

“You’re not going home,” he sighs, almost too quietly, his fingers entwining with Wei Ying’s somewhat clumsily, and Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs, and Wangji feels that sound in his chest, reverberating in his very bones.

“You always worry so much about that!” Wei Wuxian accuses him playfully, “no, I’m not going anywhere! I mean, my Uncle will probably be pissed, but he’d much rather have me here, than deal with me at home, I’ll tell you that. No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Lan Zhan.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t even have to think about it, but the bluntness of that simple statement seems to catch Wei Ying somewhat unprepared - something in his face shifts, from boundless joy to something... softer, before he’s smiling again, gentler now, his eyes gleaming. One of his hands extricates itself from their hold, only for the other one to tighten its grasp, lacing their fingers together properly, and Wangji wonders if he knows... If he realizes what he’s doing to him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says his name so fondly it makes Wangji happy just to have it, “be careful, or people will start thinking you’re soft.”

He’s never been softer on anyone more than he is on this boy right in front of him, but those words, he hasn’t quite found yet.

“Come on now,” Wei Ying tugs at his hand, “let’s go play some soccer, huh?”

And he goes, of course he goes, and as they dash through the campsite towards the sports field, Wei Wuxian never lets go of his hand, and Wangji promises himself he never will, either.

Oh, best laid plans, and all that.

Wangji was convinced that letting Wei Wuxian stay overnight in his cabin was purely a matter of necessity, and wouldn’t amount to anything more than precisely that.

He was also convinced that letting him stay an additional night or two was also a matter of necessity, since the recent foul weather left his tent in quite a state, and the canvas turned out to need far more extensive repairs than previously thought... Yeah.

All perfectly sensible reasons to have Wei Wuxian sleeping about three feet away from him for what’s going to be the fourth night in a row, and he’s been more than happy to recite all of them out loud to anyone who might dare comment otherwise... But the truth remains, no amount of sensible reasoning could have prepared him for the sheer wealth of skin he’d have to be subject to seeing on a daily basis.

After the first night, mostly spent shivering under a blanket on account of being drenched to the bone, Wei Ying has convalesced quickly, and Wangji’s been reminded of the irrefutable truth he learned a while ago, but chose to conveniently forget somewhere along the way - that Wei Wuxian really has been put on this earth to torture him.

He runs hot, apparently, and sleeps in his boxers and nothing but his boxers, and simply likes discarding his t-shirt whenever opportunity arises, draping it over every available surface in Wangji’s cabin, which used to be so clean... ‘Put some clothes on’ has become his go-to greeting any time he makes his way into his little corner of solitude (not so much anymore) and quiet ( definitely not so much anymore) and finds Wei Ying still there, still inconveniently shirtless.

He repeats the words like a mantra again today, hoping for some peace of mind over lunch break, only to find his new roommate sprawled over the bed, t-shirt conveniently forgotten, coaxing gentle melodies out of his harmonica.

“Lan Zhan,” he receives a lazy smile in response, “I will, if you play with me!”

Wangji curses his heart for agreeing swiftly and without hesitation, and picks up the nearest t-shirt instead, tossing it in Wei Wuxian’s general direction.

“It’s the other way around,” he reminds him, “I will only play with you if you get dressed. And clean up this mess.”

“So unfair, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying pouts, “come on, there’s this song I wanted to try out...”

“T-shirt,” Wangji sternly lists his duties, “tidy up.”

And he sits on his bed, his guitar in his lap, and waits. Wei Ying tests him, because of course he does, playing the first tender notes of the song that’s so familiar to both of them, that doesn’t need practice, but Wangji only continues to glare. That, he always wins at.

“Ugh, fine,” Wei Wuxian groans dramatically, rolling off the bed, “fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain, my friend- oh. This is yours.”

The t-shirt fits him well, even if it hangs somewhat loose, the faded blue in place of his usual reds and wild prints doing wonders for him, but Wangji recovers quickly.

“Clearly you already claimed it, since it was on the ground,” he accuses Wei Ying, “you’re washing it.”

Wei Ying sticks out his tongue at him, but he doesn’t take it off, and Wangji doesn’t think about how soft the fabric of that one is, and how warm it must be now, on his skin.

He spends a lot of time not thinking about things, really.

For example, he doesn’t think about the dip above Wei Ying’s hip bones or the slender curve of his spine, when he chooses to torture him further that very evening, shamelessly walking the length of the campsite after his shower in nothing but his towel and flip-flops, to the amusement of many, and the horror of others, and takes entirely too long to get dressed when he finally does arrive at the cabin.

He spends a lot of time not thinking about how Wei Ying looks with his damp hair down in lightly curling tendrils, taking precisely zero care of it aside from running his fingers through it - and he doesn’t think about how it would feel to card his own fingers through it, untangling every knot, fingertips ghosting over the back of his neck and shoulders-

Well. Maybe he thinks about those things, but what certainly doesn’t bear thinking about is how soft Wei Wuxian looks when he falls asleep, and when he’s barely awake in the early morning, accusing Wangji of being a vampire or something just because he’s up in time to take his own shower... 

What doesn’t bear thinking about is this - Wangji likes having him around. He likes having him around, and sharing a space so small they end up walking into one another more often than not. He likes the rhythm that develops between them, or rather is rediscovered, dusted off and brought back, of knowing what to say and when to say it, and knowing when not to say anything at all, and of avoiding each other even in said small space when they mean to, and only bumping into each other when they really mean to.

He likes the way Wei Ying arranges their boots on the stairs, side by side, even though he pretends not to notice. He likes the way Wei Ying always brings two bottles of water for the night, and sets one down by Wangji’s bed, without prompting, or expecting a word of comment. He likes the way Wei Ying casually takes both their bags and drops them off at the cabin’s doorstep whenever they lead the kids back to the campsite after their activities and walk past it, and doesn’t answer their incessant questions the first time it happens, or the fourth.

He likes the way Wei Ying sometimes still sits on his bed when they play together, and wonders if he remembers, too - that this is exactly how it used to be when they were children, and true, there used to be much more space on the bed back then, than there is now, but Wangji likes that change, too.

He likes Wei Ying, the idea and reality of having him around, and he thinks if he just gets a couple more nights of this, he might be able to start coming up with some words to describe it... Or lose his mind, both outcomes are equally likely.

“Lan Zhan, I hope you’re ready to lose epically tonight.”

They are, once again, occupying the same four square feet of space, changing into warmer, sturdier clothes - it’s going to be a long night.

“I am not,” Wangji says simply, moving past Wei Ying struggling with his jacket to get to his own. “I’ve got years of practice on you.”

“Ha, as if that means anything!” Wei Wuxian laughs, “I bring a fresh mindset, a new perspective, if you will, a- a wealth of opportunities for- god dammit, what’s with this fucking zipper?!”

“Stand still,” Wangji swats his hand away, and before he realizes what he’s doing, the misbehaving jacket is already halfway zipped up, and Wei Wuxian has that smile on his face.

“Aw, Lan Zhan, how thoughtful of you,” he teases him, and yelps the very next second, because Wangji drives the zipper a bit too high and it nips at the underside of his chin. “Alright, alright!”

“Get a move on,” Wangji directs him, hopefully turning away in time to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks - this is going... well.

Five minutes later, they’re all gathering in front of the main lodge - well, those of them included in tonight’s Ambush, anyway. No children younger than eleven are allowed to participate, and it’s completely voluntary for the rest, but that doesn’t cut the number of eager faces in the main square by a lot - there will be four teams competing tonight, and already, they are flocking to the Counsellors assigned to lead them.

It’s been up to the oldest children, the de facto team leaders, to assemble their groups over the past couple of days, and they took to the task with gusto - for once, their little group of misbehaving teenagers is glad to split up, for the chance to try and absolutely wreck each other in a potentially slightly dangerous nighttime activity.

Jingyi helms Wei Ying’s group, the two already deep in conversation about whatever ridiculous tactics they hope to unleash tonight, while Wangji himself has Sizhui recounting their plan - not that he’d ever voice it out loud, but he’s pleasantly surprised the boy decided not to break their years-long tradition of always doing Ambush together in favor of Wei Wuxian. He half expected it to happen, even, but clearly, Sizhui knows their winning streak doesn’t bear breaking.

“We can’t underestimate Zizhen,” the boy utters under his breath very seriously while they wait for Xichen to arrive and start everything off, “he wants to look helpless, but a little bird tells me that’s exactly what Nie-Gege wants us to think.”

For their part, both Zizhen and Nie Huaisang look as casual as ever, all but bouncing on their feet as if what’s coming is nothing more than a stroll through the woods, and Wangji is inclined to agree - it never does good to underestimate their resident scavenger hunt master, and the team he put together.

“He might try to form an alliance with Jiang Cheng,” Sizhui speculates further, “we need to watch out for that- oh, there’s Lan- zong.”

Xichen finally appears, and Wangji only sees it for a split second, the exhaustion he won’t speak of, before he puts his game face on, and Ambush can finally start. He does try to catch his brother before they arrive at their destination, but there’s simply too many children between him and Xichen at all times, and besides, this is hardly the right time to continue their conversation - Wangji just wonders if there ever will be a right one. Besides, before he knows it, they’re arriving at the Graveyard, and he must put his worries to rest.

“Whoa, you really upped the ante since I last played this,” Wei Wuxian exhales almost reverently, somehow ending up by Wangji’s side, eyes gleaming with the glow coming from the lanterns - the Graveyard being the spot that all children need to return to once their lives are depleted, it must be seen from very far away, and they have done a good job illuminating it this year, it’s true.

No open fires in the forest, is one of the oldest and most honored Gusu rules, so every single torch is fake, every single lantern battery-powered, but the effect is still impressive, still almost dream-like.

Wangji finds he’d rather watch the faint smile it all brings to Wei Wuxian’s face, but then a hush falls over the children as Xichen gets their attention simply by being himself, and he begins explaining the rules in earnest.

It’s an ancient game, and a fairly straightforward one, but some adjustments have been made since their childhood years, some of which they even had a hand in implementing, if indirectly - it used to be that the children would go off alone, build their sites wherever they pleased, only loosely monitored by the Counsellors, but that led to... Well, all sorts of things, from underhanded tactics the likes of Wen Chao used to pull, once upon a time, conveniently misled kids and nasty tumbles down old caves notwithstanding, to just plain chaos, so some changes had to happen sooner or later.

As things stand now, the idea is simple - each Counsellor leads their team to a location of their choosing, making sure no one twists an ankle or trips over their own feet, while also evenly distributing the mandated leads along the way. Each group then builds an Ambush site, where their most prized possessions, their three flags, are safely guarded. This is where the Counsellors leave the team to their own devices, so to speak, and it’s up to the oldest children to make the tough decisions, like who to appoint as a defender, and who to send attacking.

The defenders stick close to the site, protecting it, while the attackers are set to roam the forest in search of others, and in hopes of making it past their defenses to score a flag for their team. A solitary lantern illuminates each Ambush site, but beyond that, nothing - the night lends it all a thrilling feeling of secrecy, allowing the children to sneak around and avoid enemies, protecting not only the whereabouts of their own site, but also the three lives they carry wrapped around their wrists in the form of bracelets. Once someone tugs off the scarf tucked under your belt, you lose one bracelet, and when all three are gone, it’s off to the Graveyard with you, where Wen Ning plays the master of life and death, allowing the children the fleeting chance at being resurrected with one life, and one life only, if they answer his riddles.

All of this of course allows for endless cheating, but they’ve managed to eliminate that somewhat over the years by sending the Counsellors prowling the forest as silent observers and peacekeepers, making sure that battles between attackers really do happen fairly, by calling out each other’s names and stealing scarves and not, like, actual battling, and that nobody ends up impaled on a branch, twisting an ankle, or running headfirst into a tree - all of those can and will happen, sometimes to the same person in one night, previous experience dictates.

“...And just because we thought we’d raise the stakes a bit tonight,” Xichen adds after all the rules are thoroughly explained, successfully regaining all of the children’s somewhat waning attention, “whichever team holds the most flags at the end of this game, gets not only the usual trophy-” (Mostly symbolic but still exciting duty-skipping privileges, and also contraband ice-cream that never makes it to Gusu otherwise) “-but also exclusive rights to one previously unseen part of the scavenger hunt treasure map!”

The children erupt in cheers and excited chatter, and the Counsellors exchange a knowing glance from across the clearing - their stakes in this are personal and very much betting pool-related, but the kids don’t need to know that.

“I promise to remain impartial despite that. The integrity of the scavenger hunt will not be tarnished,” Nie Huaisang announces solemnly, and meets with scattered laughter.

“Alright, that about covers it all,” Xichen hollers over the overlapping voices, “everyone, please be careful, and good luck!”

“See you on the other side,” Wei Ying leans in to whisper to Wangji once the rules are all explained, sending him off with a wink before they gather their respective teams, and on they go.

Wangji leads his team away with a calm certainty - finding the right spot to build their site is paramount to their success, and no one knows the forest as well as he does. The direction they initially set off in means nothing, of course - everyone will veer off their chosen path at one point or another, to make tracking them all the more difficult, and only the leads they absolutely must leave in their wake will hint as to where their hideout might actually be.

The night is a bit too bright, but not too cold, and a gentle breeze sends a quiet murmur through the treetops every now and then, and he feels at peace, and excited at the same time - this is one of the crowning moments of every summer, and he looks forward to it every year, much like the children do.

“Is it true that Wei-Gege won all the Ambushes he was ever in, back when you two were kids?”

Sizhui asks the question innocently enough as they fall into step side by side, and Wangji snorts.

“Did he tell you that?”

“He... might have called himself the undisputed Ambush master of his time.”

“Of course,” Wangji smiles a soft smile the night will hopefully hide, “sounds just like him. What he no doubt neglected to mention is that he only ever won when we ended up on the same team. When we were younger.”

“But you competed against each other?” Sizhui wants to know, eyes large, “when you were older? Like we are doing now, with Jingyi and Zizhen?”

“Mm,” Wangji nods, “the only time he ever won after that was when my leg was broken, and I couldn’t actually participate.”

“Your leg...?”

“A bad fall,” Wangji dismisses that memory, explaining instead: “that was when we were thirteen. Wei Ying never beat me after that.”

“Huh,” Sizhui inclines his head, no doubt storing all of his questions for later.

“And I plan to keep it that way,” Wangji adds, which predictably brings a wide grin to the boy’s face, and he happily goes about his job of coordinating his team and setting the leads.

As they finally reach the spot Wangji has picked out from them, and the kids get to work building their site, he observes, and can’t help but think about Wei Ying, somewhere on the other side of the forest, no doubt going absolutely over the top with his team’s site, probably choosing some half-unsanctioned, incredibly dangerous spot to build...

Wangji thinks of him, and wonders if this feels the same way to him - if any of it does, being back here, getting to participate, walking through the very forest they spent so much time in as children. Does he recognize the trees and the paths, the spots where they used to hide? Does he still instinctively know his way around, even at night?

Does he look up, just like Wangji looks up, to see the stars peeking through the pines, and does an almost boyish excitement wash over him when they all get the text from Xichen, confirming they’ll be ready to start for real, and then when the call echoes through the hushed forest, does he also feel his heart skip a beat?

Ready, he types into their group chat, right alongside Wei Ying’s ‘OH WE R SO READY’ - it makes him smile, and he exhales, makes sure everything is in its place, wishes Sizhui and the others the best of luck, and disappears into the night.

In his defense, Wei Wuxian gets way too into Ambush. He’s been looking forward to this night ever since he first stepped foot back in Gusu, and the deeper they walk into the forest sunken in darkness, nothing but their flashlights to guide them, the more his excitement grows.

They build their site near the rock formation with the waterfall, no rabbits to keep them company now - they’re still very much within the allowed radius, but the light of their lantern is a bit obscured by the trees and the rocks, which is technically slightly not allowed, but they did everything right, left the leads where they should be left, so it’s fine.

Besides, their plan doesn’t hinge on not being found.

“Alright, everyone,” he claps his hands when the call announcing the start echoes through the forest, probably startling more than just the slumbering rabbits, “you know what to do. Break a leg! But don’t you dare break your actual leg, or Wen Qing will kill me. Good luck!”

No matter how much he’d love to stay and listen to Jingyi ordering their ragtag little team around, he’s not allowed to help in any way, and must instead make his way back towards the center, in the vague direction of the Graveyard. His task for the night is deceptively simple - make sure nobody falls down a conveniently placed hole, nobody wanders off too far, on purpose or otherwise, and that they’re still all in one piece roughly two hours from now.

He envies the kids the opportunity to experience what he used to adore himself, to run and sneak through the forest with that thrill coursing through their veins, feeling simultaneously on top of the world and somehow very small in the impenetrable darkness surrounding them, keeping your eyes peeled for that welcome flicker of light in the distance...

But this is good, too - he gets to observe, and look at the stars and the moon, and reminisce.

He wonders where Lan Zhan is now, no doubt striding through the forest with some elf-like grace, never disturbing a single branch, silent and elegant...

To: LAN ZHAAAN

22:32

b careful abt the cave dont wanna have to come rescue u again

The display light of his phone blinds him momentarily and his quiet laughter devolves into a surprised yelp when he trips over this or that vine hiding in the undergrowth - he steps with more care after that, but he will not be passing up the opportunity to pester Lan Zhan just to be safer in the forest at night, come on.

They each have a rough sector they’re supposed to oversee, technically speaking, but that doesn’t mean they can’t run into each other at some point, purely by accident of course. Right? Right.

To: LAN ZHAAAN

22:33

where r u? moon’s nice over here

From: LAN ZHAAAN

22:34

Only use your phone for emergencies. The children will get confused by the light.

To: LAN ZHAAAN

22:34

Buzzkill >:( FINE. dont fall down a cave tho I s2g

From: LAN ZHAAAN

22:35

Not planning on it, don’t worry.

The problem, he decides as he shoves his phone back into his pocket with a smile, is twofold. One, everything that happened here, everything he’s been through over the years, all those memories, they’re more or less neatly stacked in his head like polaroid pictures, ready to be taken out and dusted off at any time, and sometimes it’s like no time has passed between him now, and him in his teens, dashing through this very same forest at the speed of light.

As far as he’s concerned, Gusu has lost none of its charm, like some sort of liminal space or something, where life only ever happens in the summer, where time only ever moves when there’s dozens of children staying in the cabins and the tents, and when he left at sixteen... When he left for what he was dead sure was going to be the last time, it’s like he took one last photograph of this place, its colors already fading, and put it away to be looked at whenever he pleased.

But, and this is the second part of the issue, he’s older now, and with the same aching yearning in his chest that he always felt at the beginning and the end of his summer here, he now knows that time doesn’t, in fact, stop. That Gusu not only waits for no one, but just because it’s accepted him back temporarily, there’s no guarantee that... Wait. Is he actually thinking of coming back again next year? Already?

He should probably... ask someone about that, because it’s kind of presumptuous of him to automatically think he will even be allowed to come back in the first place...

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out without tripping this time, thank you very much, excited about the possibility of some more witty repartee with Lan Zhan, but it’s only the group chat, and Jiang Cheng smugly announcing his kids have stolen the first flag off Nie Huaisang.

“Already?!” Wei Wuxian hisses, but doesn’t give his brother the satisfaction of an impressed reply, accusing both him and Huaisang instead, of no doubt having planned this all along, and the night really kicks off into high gear after that.

He sticks to the edges of the playing field, and meets no one but the occasional startled kid who thinks they’re doing a good job of sneaking around, but have got nothing on him at the end of the day, and before long, he has a pretty good idea of where everyone else’s sites are situated. To the children, the forest seems vast and endless, especially at night, but they aren’t actually spread out over that large an area - gotta play it safe, and keep everyone within shouting distance, after all. 

Still, he has to navigate more than one kid away from the outskirts and back towards the center where the Graveyard is, before they get lost for good, and on about the fourth teenager incapable of telling north from south, he starts to wonder if the actual adults are to be believed, and new technologies really are having a detrimental effect on young minds, namely their goddamn survival skills. Oh, where are the times of prancing into random weird caves and starting fires out of nothing to keep himself and Lan Zhan warm...

Has anybody seen Zizhen lately?, Nie Huaisang texts into the group chat then, and doesn’t budge even when Wei Wuxian accuses him of fabricating problems to get them all concentrating on not paying attention while he exacts his no doubt extremely nefarious scheme for victory, and so he promises to keep an eye out, and decides to circle around to his own team’s site. He’s prohibited from interfering, of course, but there’s no harm done in a routine check - if he’s lucky, he’ll even happen upon their missing ukulele-playing airhead along the way.

What he doesn’t expect to see, but is even more delighted to find, is the very familiar figure of one Senior Counsellor Lan Wangji, hovering just out of earshot of Wei Wuxian’s team’s site, his back turned to him, giving him the perfect opportunity to sneak up on the man.

“Lan Zhan!” he pops up by his side, and to his credit, Lan Zhan doesn’t outwardly jump out of his skin, only flinches almost imperceptibly.

“Wei Ying,” he nods, as if they’re just casually meeting by their cabin or something, and Wei Wuxian decides to push his luck all the way into his personal space.

“What are you doing here, huh?” he bumps their shoulders together, “spying on my kids, are you?”

“Just checking,” Lan Zhan dismisses him, “you read the group chat. Where’s Jingyi?”

“Oh, what do I know,” Wei Wuxian waves his hand magnanimously, steering them away from the site, “probably fighting for his last life somewhere.”

“Don’t kid me,” Lan Zhan’s glare is piercing enough even in the pitch black of the night, “you’ve got a plan.”

“Well, jeez, Sherlock,” Wei Wuxian laughs, “of course I have a plan. Not one I’m willing to share, though. You?”

“Hmpfh.”

“Exactly. So let’s both pretend like we aren’t overly invested in our own successes, and walk around for a bit, huh?”

“We shouldn’t get distracted,” Lan Zhan says plainly, even as they are, in fact, walking side by side now, “we’ve got our own sectors to cover.”

“Aw, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian decides to push his luck even further, “are you saying I’m distracting? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” comes the bluntest possible answer, “very distracting.”

Despite himself, Wei Wuxian bursts into laughter, and earns a sharp shush for his troubles.

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Be quiet.”

Both their phones buzz at the same time, but it isn’t news about Zizhen, or an update on the score. ‘Returning to camp. Please finish without me.’ Xichen writes, short and as vague as it gets, and in all his squinting at those words, Wei Wuxian almost doesn’t notice that Lan Zhan has stopped dead, and glares at his phone with an almost angry intensity.

“What’s that about?” Wei Wuxian tries, and wonders if that tension in Lan Zhan’s shoulders was there before, or if it really took one random text for him to become so unsettled.

“I don’t know,” Lan Zhan frowns, already typing out a reply that doesn’t land in the group chat - personal, then - and yet again, Wei Wuxian finds himself weighing his options.

They are technically in the middle of a game, supposed to be making sure they keep twisted ankles and night terrors to a minimum, but...

“Look, I don’t mean to pry,” he starts broadly, slowly, giving Lan Zhan enough time to shut him up if necessary, “but even I can tell Xichen-Ge isn’t really... I don’t know. Feeling... himself? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

It comes out even gentler than he was aiming for, and it’s evidently enough to make Lan Zhan look away from his phone, and at him, if briefly. It really is just the two of them and the forest, that breeze whispering in the branches of the pines, swaying them in broad, slow arcs, and Wei Wuxian wonders if he will ever learn to pick his moments better.

But Lan Zhan looks... almost hopeful? They’ve been living in close quarters for a couple of days now, and it’s amazing to him sometimes, how easy it’s been - he’s allowed to just be, aside from the usual nagging to do boring normal things like clean up and wear t-shirts, and most importantly, Lan Zhan doesn’t pry. 

Wei Wuxian still remembers their first proper talk, the almost physical reaction he had to the idea of confiding in his once-friend, and it feels like ages have passed between then and now. Entire lifetimes, told in the hiccups his heart makes every time Lan Zhan’s guitar joins his harmonica, the way that same heart falters, stops and relearns to beat differently every time he catches a glimpse of Lan Zhan’s sleeping face.

Lan Zhan doesn’t pry, even though he probably wants to, even though Wei Wuxian would probably tell him anything, or at least a bit more, at this point, and he doesn’t know if he’s being colossally stupid, responding to that by prying himself, or if he’s got the right idea for a change.

“Now is not the time,” Lan Zhan says, but it comes out quiet, uncertain, like he himself doesn’t know if those are the words he wants to be saying.

“Yeah, alright,” Wei Wuxian smiles despite himself, and tells himself it’s enough of a miracle that they still fall into step after that, going off in a vague direction neither of them really confirms - it’s fine.

It’s fine, because they really should be doing a hundred and one different things right now, because somewhere out there a kid is definitely losing their way or snagging their ankle on the undergrowth... Somewhere out there, there’s thirteen-year-old Lan Zhan, sitting alone in a cold, damp cave, scared and in pain, and thirteen-year-old Wei Wuxian, running blindly through the forest to reach him. Somewhere out there, there’s all the evidence he needs to understand how they got from that point to here, but finding all the fragments of it and piecing them together into one whole that makes at least some sense, feels like a scavenger hunt all of his own, exciting but stubbornly difficult at the same time.

“Gusu might be getting sold. It’s possible we’ll lose it, after... After this summer.”

No convenient vine or twig lies in his way to make him trip over his feet now, in the same way his heart trips over itself - as it is, he just keeps walking for a few more steps until the words catch up with him, almost sure he’s misheard, almost sure they aren’t real, until Lan Zhan is, once again, lagging behind, and Wei Wuxian looks back at him, sees the reality of them reflected in his face, even in the dark, even in the resounding silence, and knows.

“Lan Zhan,” he exhales, turning to him fully, going to him, and he’s half a mind to ask ‘Is that all it took?’

This is the worst possible moment, and yet, is that really all it took? Asking properly, not even expecting an answer? You wanna tell me what’s going on?

“Why?” he asks, “how?”

Some sort of displeasure colors Lan Zhan’s features, if briefly, like he can’t quite believe himself, and he shakes his head - resumes walking, too, but still waits for Wei Wuxian, matches his step.

“Long story,” he grumbles, but he is not, against all odds, running away, or telling Wei Wuxian to keep his mouth shut, and that’s a huge improvement in and of itself.

“I bet. Does it have to do with your Uncle calling all the time?”

There’s a sharp edge to Lan Zhan’s glance, and Wei Wuxian shrugs.

“Hey, Xichen doesn’t always take his calls in his office. I swear I never asked him. Wouldn’t think of it.”

They hear the telltale rustle of a child or three trying to keep quiet somewhere nearby, giggling and shoving, but they both elect to ignore it, walking just for the hell of it, without any clear direction in mind.

“Mostly,” Lan Zhan nods, and his next words sound impossibly pained, like even talking about his family that way hurts him too deep to comprehend: “Uncle always wanted to- to sell. At some point. After we’d grown out of it, he always said. But Xichen and I, we couldn’t- couldn’t let that happen.”

“This place is your home,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, different memories resurfacing in his mind now - Lan Zhan telling him, bit by laborious bit, over the years, how they grew up here. How they lived here, actually lived, back when their parents were still alive, a time Lan Zhan himself had been almost too young to remember.

Wei Wuxian remembers envying him, in that silly way kids do, that he got to stay past summer, got to know what Gusu looked like in winter and in early spring, empty and quiet, outside of that saturated postcard of itself that it always existed in, in Wei Wuxian’s mind, picturesque and unmoving, unchanging.

“Then Xichen took over,” Lan Zhan continues talking, “and he split the shares, and everything looked alright. Uncle wasn’t interested in this place anymore. A blessing in disguise, really. We thought we’d manage, back when Xichen had help. We didn’t think we’d have to worry anymore.”

He speaks in hurried, hushed tones, almost urgent, almost like he’s been holding all of this in this entire time, with nowhere to put it. He speaks like he means for everything to come out all at once, like he’s forgotten what it’s like, sharing all of this beyond his own thoughts.

“What changed?” Wei Wuxian asks plainly, still gently, still without any pressure whatsoever, even though he’s dying to know, even though he’s currently inwardly beating himself up for not asking sooner, not asking the very first time he laid eyes on Lan Zhan when he came back.

They hear a shout echoing through the forest, from the direction of the Graveyard, and they both stop and listen for a moment, but it’s completely incomprehensible - probably just kids fighting for their last lives as the game races to its inevitable end.

Distantly, Wei Wuxian realizes he should probably be worrying about his kids, about the number of their flags, but all that matters to him right now, is this moment here, frail and taut, threatening to snap if he so much as turns away at the wrong time-

The call announcing the very last fifteen minutes comes as a nasty shock to both of them, and they stare at each other dumbly for a moment, checking the time - has it really been this long?

“Lan Zhan-” Wei Wuxian takes a step forward, but already, his friend is moving away from him, figuratively and otherwise.

“Let’s do one last sweep,” he says firmly, but before Wei Wuxian can really think it through, he’s already stepping closer, his hand around Lan Zhan’s wrist.

“Wait. Just- hold on,” he exhales, “you can’t just- You need to tell me what happened.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs, and above them, the moon peeks out from behind a soft screen of clouds, and there’s suddenly too much light for Ambush, and entirely too much light for this.

“Lan Zhan, I swear that I won’t-”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats, and there’s also entirely too much light to hide that smile, however brief, however small and slightly sad. “I’ll tell you. But now is really not the time.”

And the Lan Zhan that stands before him, he’s... He’s nine years old, and surrounded by rabbits, and he’s thirteen years old, pale and brave and in so much pain, and he’s sixteen, and shouting in Wei Wuxian’s face for being an idiot. He’s all of those at once, and he’s him right now, always the same, always stern and calm and stupid-handsome, and all of those past versions of him are having some sort of conversation with all of those past versions of Wei Wuxian, and together, they’re trying to get some point across to their present selves, but as things stand, now really is not the time.

Still, Wei Wuxian smiles, and still, his fingers loosen around Lan Zhan’s wrist, allowing himself one last gentle squeeze before letting go.

“You promise?” he asks somewhat pointlessly, somewhat childishly.

“Yes. Now go, count your losses.”

“Ha! In your dreams! We’ll continue this conversation after I beat you. See ya!”

In the end, it doesn’t half matter who wins or who loses, he decides as he dashes through the forest - the certainty that after this, he will be allowed to just come up to Lan Zhan and maybe, finally, actually talk about something of substance, that’s enough of a victory.

Those last fifteen minutes drag - not so much for the kids, who start dashing through the forest in their very last desperate bids for victory, dissolving the game into that familiar pandemonium that’s perfectly capable of upending the results in a very dramatic fashion... But Wei Wuxian longs to hear that final call, suddenly the most awake he’s been all night long, his fingers itching where he held onto Lan Zhan’s hand, his heart beating with an unvoiced realization long in the making.

He laughs uproariously enough to attract the attention of the entire damn forest when he happens upon Zizhen like five minutes before the end, almost literally tripping over him making out with typical teenage abandon with A-Qing, the tenacious girl in charge of Jiang Cheng’s team - even if him and Nie Huaisang had been planning something together, they couldn’t have foreseen this, and Wei Wuxian has the time of his life promising the flushed Zizhen not to snitch on him, saving that tidbit for later, when he really wants to laugh at his friends. The promise of Jiang Cheng’s face whenever he finds out, oh, that is too good.

The night concludes kind of epically - turns out Jingyi and Sizhui had pretty much the exact same plan, just as suspected, and both teams have moved past caution, a short-lived coalition that allowed them to rob Huaisang’s team blind right before the end, to an all-out war ensuing immediately after, that left almost no man standing.

Wei Wuxian congratulates Sizhui on a game well fought, even if he did only achieve a narrow victory of one more flag because he broke the unspoken rules and Jingyi’s heart by turning on him in the very last minute, and as both boys squabble good-naturedly, as Wei Wuxian stands surrounded by them and many others, dozens of voices overlapping, he searches the crowd for Lan Zhan, and comes up short.

Vaguely, he notices him at the head of the it at some point, leading everyone back to camp, but loses track of him shortly after, as everyone pours into the dining hall, where they have to keep them quiet and make them all drink the hot tea Granny Wen had prepared for them, to warm up before bed.

Lan Zhan isn’t there when Wei Wuxian witnesses Zizhen confessing his dalliance to a furious but ultimately amused Jiang Cheng as Nie Huaisang cackles nearby, and he isn’t there when the older kids break into an impromptu rendition of their everyday lullaby, soon getting everyone to join in. 

He isn’t there when they chase everyone to go to sleep, as quietly as possible, so as not to wake up the younger kids, and he isn’t there when Wei Wuxian goes tent to tent, door to cabin door, counting every kid alongside the others, to make sure they didn’t leave anyone behind. He isn’t there, but Wei Wuxian sees that the light is on in the tiny room in the attic of the main lodge, and knows that all he needs to do is wait.

With every kid safely in their beds, the adults congregate back in the dining hall, opening beers and swapping stories from the night, all of them too buzzed to go to sleep just yet, and if Wei Wuxian keeps glancing towards the door, nobody needs to know, now do they.

Eventually, before Huaisang can rope him into playing some sort of drinking game - who is he becoming, honestly, passing up on those - he slinks into the kitchen and makes some more tea that’s decidedly not for him, and opens another beer that decidedly is, and exits through the back door without anyone so much as noticing.

The kids have some trouble going to bed, especially the older ones, and he does his due diligence, splitting up at least three different gossip groups and sending everyone to sleep, again, before he finally circles back to their - Lan Zhan’s - cabin, and his suspicions are confirmed.

Lan Zhan sits on the stairs, still as a statue, legs crossed and hands on his knees, and he almost looks like he’s meditating - almost looks too serene to disturb, almost makes Wei Wuxian consider turning right back around and leaving him to it.

But then he opens his eyes, and spots him, and exhales like he’s relieved, like he’s glad, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t doubt anything anymore, and goes to him.

“Hey,” he says, handing his travel mug full of warm tea to Lan Zhan, “this is for you. Figured you didn’t get the chance to warm up. Scoot.”

Lan Zhan does so wordlessly, accepting the mug from him and making room for him, and Wei Wuxian sits down next to him, the space between the wooden railings of the stairs almost too narrow for the two of them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help with curfew,” Lan Zhan says at long last, and he means it. “I was...”

“No, yeah, it’s fine, we- I figured,” Wei Wuxian hurries to reassure him, “we managed. Everyone’s more or less asleep now. Is Xichen okay?”

Lan Zhan opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t, at first - takes a long gulp of his tea instead, and Wei Wuxian lets him. It’s strange, and nice at the same time, knowing there’s nowhere to rush. Knowing there’s no pretense between them now, knowing he’s allowed to ask this.

“I don’t know,” Lan Zhan says, then corrects himself: “I don’t think so.”

The problem, at the end of the day, is the same as the solution - Wei Wuxian is simultaneously thirteen years old and twenty one, a kid and a struggling almost-adult, and both those versions of him want nothing more than to reach across the miniscule space between Lan Zhan and him, and hold his hand. Neither of those versions is also capable of coming up with a good enough reason as to why he shouldn’t do it, and so, slowly, cautiously, hopefully gently, he goes for it, and when Lan Zhan up looks from that new point of connection between them and into his eyes, Wei Wuxian offers what he can only hope is an encouraging smile, something his thirteen-year-old self might not have been capable of, but his current self can muster.

“You can tell me,” he reassures him simply, absolutely fucking uncertain that it will be enough.

But apparently it is, and by some miracle, Lan Zhan not only doesn’t swat his hand away, but rather relaxes his own, unclenching his fist under Wei Wuxian’s touch, and allows it to last for much, much longer than Wei Wuxian would have anticipated even in his wildest dreams.

Oh, and he also tells him everything.

Chapter Text

The story goes like this - Xichen doesn’t remember it, but he’s barely two years old when his parents decide to grab him and move out of the city, up into the forests. At that point, Gusu is nothing more than a smattering of derelict, overgrown cabins, trees sticking out of roofs and through broken windows, nature holding a firm reign over it all. But it’s theirs, through a frankly astonishing amount of sheer dumb luck and some arguments that will cost them all a good portion of their family for years to come, but Xichen doesn’t learn about that until much, much later.

The main lodge doesn’t even exist yet, nor does the sports field, or the fire pit, or the chicken coops, or the tents. The lake is overgrown with weeds, and there are deer grazing among the pines, shocked and offended that anyone would even think of coming here, and rabbits in the forest, watching from afar and thinking the same.

But there is also a small house, the main selling point of the entire catastrophe that is the Gusu resort at that point, hiding in the hills overlooking it, embedded between the rocks and the trees like a stubborn bird clinging to the hillside, and it’s where they stay, for those first couple of years.

It’s where Xichen grows up, where his first memories come to be in the form of his mother telling him never to go further than the fence with gentians, unless they all take a trip downhill, where the noise of construction is a steady companion to the soothing sounds of the forest, year after year.

It’s where Wangji is born, when Xichen is five - or rather where Xichen first sees him, tiny and swaddled in so many blankets they look like they might swallow him whole, and it’s where his baby brother then grows up, his favorite lullaby a toss between their mother’s voice, and the chirping of birds wafting in on a gentle breeze through the open window.

It’s where their parents die, when Xichen is eight and Wangji barely three, shortly after Gusu successfully hosts an actual summer camp for the very first time.

Or rather, it’s where the news reaches them, Xichen having dutifully put Wangji to sleep and waiting up for his parents to return, eyes closing on their own, exhaustion almost overpowering him, when he finally hears footsteps, and then the front door creaking open, and then his Uncle stands in the living room, and tells him not to worry, and makes sure he goes to sleep as well, and only tells him what happened in the morning.

Xichen is eight, and Wangji barely three, when Lan Qiren takes them away from Gusu, moves them back into the city, although he swears that every summer, they’ll be allowed to return. And every summer, they do, and at the end of it, once the campsite grows quiet, Xichen takes his brother, and they climb that hill to their childhood home, and they talk to the memory of their parents. It becomes a habit, borne out of a necessity - Wangji only remembers it years later in that sort of vague way kids retain memories from their early life, but for Xichen, the image is as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

It had been sunny and already impossibly warm, the last time his mother danced in the kitchen with Wangji on her hip, the last time his father read the morning news over a cup of coffee, sun streaming in through the windows, painting broad stripes of gold across the wooden floor, and if they take special care to arrive right on time, they catch the sight again, and Xichen can pretend it never went away.

The first time they go back, after a full year in a big, frightening, unfamiliar city, Wangji runs ahead, tiny and still slightly unsteady on his feet, and he calls for their Mom with all the conviction of a four-year-old - when nobody answers, Xichen steps forward to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder while Uncle struggles to unlock the door, and from then on, that’s how the story always goes.

But the story also goes like this - he meets Mingjue at nine years of age, only a year older than him and somehow already more than a head taller, and he reminds Xichen what it’s like to laugh out loud, and keeps on reminding him of that. They meet A-Yao two years later, save him from a generic summer camp bully or two, and he thanks them by sharing from his secret stash of candy with them, and as things come, they’re inseparable ever since.

Xichen doesn’t have a whole lot of friends at school, even though he plays nice with everyone, but here, at Gusu, at home, he doesn’t have to pretend to laugh at jokes he doesn’t find all that funny just to fit in - here, he gets to spend every summer happy, and safe, and loved. 

Mingjue always wins every single soccer match he’s in, aces every race and climbs every tree and rope before him, grows up stronger and taller than any of them - A-Yao, on the other hand, remains almost too tiny for his own good well into his teens, but he makes up for it with his smarts, his incredible memory and a knack for maps and charts and morse code and every other kind of code, really, never missing a single scavenger hunt hint, never missing a beat.

Xichen loves them both, and decides very early on - once he’s old enough to make Counsellor, these two will be by his side, no matter what he has to say to Uncle to make it happen.

Mingjue and him tease A-Yao endlessly when they come back as Junior Counsellors at the age of sixteen, and he’s stuck among the regular campers for two more years. A-Yao in turn teases them when he first walks in on them holding hands, and many other times after that, but they let him.

Mingjue kisses Xichen for the very first time that year, when it’s far too dark and they’re left cleaning up in the forest after a very successful Ambush - the lights of the Graveyard are snuffed out one by one, until the forest is pitch black once again, and Xichen holds onto Mingjue’s hand for support as he stumbles over something, laughing about this or that, and the next thing he knows, Mingjue’s lips are so much softer than he’d ever imagined them, and the fireworks might only exist in his head at that moment, but they brighten up the night all the same.

Mingjue actually apologizes to him a second later, and Xichen laughs at him, and proceeds to utterly accidentally stumble into his arms many more times after that.

In the end, however, the story also goes like this - at one point, Xichen is sixteen, and in his first puppy love, and the world seems grand and full of opportunities, while also somehow never extending past the confines of their beloved campsite. But neither do other things - years down the line, Mingjue and him somehow manage to stumble into the mutual decision that they’re, after all, better as friends, after a hefty amount of teenage awkwardness, then some inevitable sadness, then relief. A-Yao and him will take their sweet time, years, in fact, to arrive at the exact opposite of that realization. All three of them do finally make Senior Counsellors, at which point, their friendship is as strong as ever, hiccups and all. All three of them love Gusu with their entire hearts.

The two of them stand by Xichen’s side time and time again when he butts heads with Uncle Qiren, cautiously at first, then increasingly more insistently.

There are rules in place, rules that don’t bear breaking, but Xichen knows, with the same certainty he knows that he will come back to Gusu every single year, that unless they soften some of them, find a way to make them more approachable, the bright, cheerful idea of a summer camp for kids of all ages that his parents once rebuilt this place with, will slowly dissipate.

The year they kick out Wei Wuxian, Xichen is twenty-one and grasping at straws when his Uncle makes it clear that his firm, the very same firm Xichen and Wangji have been groomed to take over one day since they were little, is far more important to him than ‘some pipe dream my brother once had’. That said firm could, in fact, benefit from Gusu being sold.

That year, the pines and the cabins and the lake all suddenly turn into something more than a perfect little picture of his childhood home - he realizes, not without some horror, that they’re all he knows, and that the idea of them disappearing from his life scares him more than anything has ever scared him before.

That year, he breaks a camp rule, as well as a personal one - he grabs the key to the house in the hills, and goes there long past curfew, without telling Wangji, and he brings Mingjue and A-Yao with, and asks them for help.

Campsite friendships rarely last past summer, but at this point, this one’s different - Mingjue’s sports scholarship has him studying by Xichen’s side, and A-Yao is already picking a major that will have them share a class or two, at least, and besides, they’re all practically family. Xichen isn’t particularly enthusiastic about his law degree on the best days, but he studies dutifully, as is expected of him, and it enables him to come up with a plan that A-Yao and Mingjue agree to almost immediately.

The year after that, he is Camp Leader, entirely too young and entirely too worried, but he’s not alone. Mingjue and A-Yao hold a share to Gusu each, as does Wangji, and it’s enough to stave off the inevitable, should Uncle Qiren change his mind at some point, about washing his hands of Gusu and leaving it in Xichen’s.

It’s terrifying, and unsteady at best, but it’s also the best year Gusu has - with his hands now free, Xichen works tirelessly alongside his friends to revise the rules, change them, update them. No more standing guard past curfew, or mopping the dining hall floors, or endless burpees as a form of punishment - Xichen writes and rewrites, learns to listen to input and ask for advice, while Mingjue comes up with activity after new activity, and A-Yao handles all the necessary paperwork, and whenever Xichen climbs back up that hill to his childhood home, he tells the photograph of his parents about it all, and imagines they’d be proud.

And finally, the story goes like this - Mingjue’s father dies two years later, and the lines of his face grow harsh and sad when he tells them he won’t be coming back, that he will instead be taking over a portion of the family business. He’s happy enough, he tells them, that Huaisang still gets to spend his summers here. He’s happy enough that they’ve made Gusu this way, and he will definitely come visit. He hardly does. A-Yao and him have always argued, good-naturedly and often, but their words are sharpened into accusatory blades, the last time all three of them are together in Gusu. Neither of the three of them wants to say goodbye. They all must.

From then on, Mingjue’s face becomes more familiar over grainy video calls than it does in real life - he keeps the share, and tells them to keep him in the loop, but there’s something cold in his demeanor from then on, something Xichen will not come to decipher any time soon. His own heart cracks, the childhood he knew by Mingjue’s side now irrevocably over, but it isn’t set to break. Yet.

Because A-Yao stays. A-Yao tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s always going to stay. He brings Xichen tea late at night, long past curfew, and reminds him to go to sleep, and finishes his paperwork for him, and is brilliant and patient with even the most difficult parents, and inventive and cheerful as ever with the kids. He takes pride in the scavenger hunt he’s been running for years, spends ages coming up with elaborate ways to improve it, and the children love him, and Xichen...

The first time A-Yao kisses him, it isn’t teenage fireworks, but rather a sense of certainty, of comfort - he’s smiling like he always has, soft, kind, those impossible dimples still in place, and his eyes are almost too large, too gentle, and Xichen loses himself in them, and believes him when he reassures him, time and time again, that the really important things will never change - that Gusu will always be theirs, and the family they’ve built here will always remain the same.

Believes him, because he doesn’t have a reason not to.

Believes him, in fact, until it’s almost too late.

He calls Mingjue after, not because he’s particularly thrilled about the prospect, but because he’s suddenly alone, and a Counsellor short, and afraid, and above all, utterly clueless and sad. He expects the downright righteous fury, the ‘I’m gonna kill him’s, the speculations and the accusations, but he doesn’t expect the incredibly heavy sigh on the other end of the line - so dry and ragged, like tearing paper, courtesy of the legendary shitty reception around here - and Mingjue asking: “Do you want me to come over?”

Xichen wants to respond immediately, but finds he can’t - he looks up instead, high up into the gently swaying tops of the pines he’s pacing under, and tries to imagine it, imagine the three of them as they were, just kids with big plans, simply happy to be here, and together. Tries to imagine Mingjue coming back now, A-Yao having left just hours ago, the blind disappointment of it all.

He swallows past the painful clog of emotions in his throat, and smiles brightly for no one to see.

“No, it’s okay, you’re busy, and we’re definitely busy. Just wanted to let you know, in case... I don’t know.”

“Xichen.”

He sees Wen Qing, of all people, watching him from afar, arms crossed over her chest, and despite himself, he turns away from her.

“It’s fine,” he does his best impression of an even, happy voice, “I’m fine. I’ll keep you posted, alright? Take care. Bye.”

He ends the call despite Mingjue’s protests, and his next intake of breath is his most painful one yet - but by the time he turns back to the main lodge, back to everything and every one waiting for him, he’s smiling again.

“So?” Wen Qing demands, and by the time he reaches her, Xichen is almost sure he can keep the smile going, indefinitely if need be.

“Everything's fine,” he reassures her, “we’re fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she narrows her eyes, but doesn’t press him further, at least not for now, and for that, he’s grateful.

Because it really is fine, all things considered - Gusu still stands, the children are still here and happy and healthy, and with everyone else’s help, he can keep it going. He can keep it going, and that’s all that matters, not... Not this. Not what A-Yao said, not Xichen’s own replies, not his heart, now firmly cloven in half. As long as Gusu still stands ready to welcome them, nothing else matters - that thought is enough to get him through that fateful year, and come the next one, he is alone, truly alone, for the first time since he was a kid.

Wangji watches him with obvious concern, has been watching him all year long, but all time they get together is precious these days, and Xichen won’t burden him - for his sake, he’ll keep the smile going through the summer. Bringing back Wei Wuxian has proven to be a stroke of genius, Xichen already knows on, like, day two, because he keeps Wangji preoccupied and distinctly less worried about the general state of all things Gusu, and if they can just get through this one summer like this, all the other ones will be easier, Xichen is sure of it.

Xichen is also, as he’s had to learn time and time again, with increasing potency over these past couple of years, often very wrong.

“Sizhui, holy shit. Look, look!”

“What is it?” Sizhui blinks, forcing himself out of his daydreaming long enough to glance where Jingyi’s pointing, not entirely sure what it is he’s supposed to be looking at... oh.

Someone had the bright idea to suggest to their Counsellors that they might go to the rope bridges today, which is always a pain for everyone included - far be it from Sizhui to complain, he loves any and all activities Wei-Gege and Lan-Gege come up with, but they’ve been through this part of the forest half a dozen times, and haven’t found any new scavenger hunt trophies in a couple of days, which, according to the meticulous notes he keeps, means there simply aren’t any here anymore.

But still, at least it gives him and his friends the opportunity to observe , and the material for that is definitely ample these days.

Right now, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in the middle of another bout of what Sizhui and the others have secretly dubbed marital bickering - mostly it usually consists of Wei-Gege talking at the speed of light, and Lan-Gege disagreeing with him with pointed looks and one-word answers, but this time, there are also ropes involved. More precisely, Wei Wuxian holding an armful of them, and Lan Wangji trying and failing to get him to stand still long enough to start untangling it, which sounds mundane at first, but couldn’t be further from it, where those two are involved.

“Lan Zhan, come on, this is pointless!” Wei Wuxian whines, “let’s just leave this until after we’re done climbing! We’re wasting precious time!”

“We are not, if it means we get more use out of them. If we all keep putting it off, they will never get sorted-”

“Oh, and what a horror that would be!” Wei Wuxian exclaims loudly and dramatically enough to make everyone pay attention, “wayward ropes, the greatest threat to the integrity of Gusu!”

Jingyi snorts, and Sizhui smiles when Wei-Gege sends a wink their way - he does love putting on a show.

“Wei Ying,” Lan-Gege performs his best unimpressed eyeroll and tugs at the wayward tangle in a way that probably isn’t meant to make Wei Wuxian stumble forward and into his arms, but succeeds at it anyway, and scattered laughter affirms that little display.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian gasps, “not in front of the children! What will they think!”

“Oh my god,” Jingyi utters.

“Shut up,” Lan Wangji retorts perfectly calmly.

“Hey kids!” Wei Wuxian ignores him, “let’s do knots! Who can tell me-” he raises his arms, currently weighed down by that massive tangle of at least five different ropes, for them to see, “what this one’s called? Wrong answers only!”

“The Modern Gordian!” Jingyi declares confidently.

“The Quintuple Overhand!” Zizhen offers.

“Clove hitch, but make it sexy!” Jingyi amends his answer, which is finally enough to make everyone laugh, even Wei-Gege, who’s still grinning even as he walks over to them, but there’s clear sinister intent behind it.

“We have a winner!” he announces, “as a reward, you get this! Get untanglin’!”

Jingyi oof’s under the weight of all the ropes landing on him at once, but accepts his task graciously, while everyone laughs at him now - Sizhui starts helping simply by way of close proximity, his hands moving over the ropes automatically, while his eyes are glued not to those, not to Wei-Gege, but rather Lan Wangji, and the low budget TV drama level fondness in his eyes.

Far be it from him to presume, or, god forbid, suggest anything out loud - but he does have Jingyi for a friend, and he shies away from nothing. Sizhui doesn’t remember who first dared say it out loud (Zizhen, it was probably definitely Zizhen), but the truth remains, they’ve come up with a whole elaborate theory at this point, about childhood sweethearts and second chances, and once Zizhen starts composing a song about it, nothing will stand in his way.

Out of the three of them, Sizhui is the only one in possession of some common sense, it seems, and so he must also be the one to make sure their speculations never make it past the sworn secrecy of their tent, because that would be embarrassing for everyone involved.

...Doesn’t mean he can’t look, though, right?

He’s known Lan-Gege for years, and he’s always represented everything good and exciting Gusu stands for, at least in Sizhui’s eyes - he’s very serious and calm, seemingly the very antithesis of people like Wei Wuxian, who seem to have a natural knack for not only being where the excitement is, but bringing it with them, but... Sizhui has been on Lan Wangji’s team year after year, grew up with him, really, and everyone knows he gives the best lessons, be it about the aforementioned knots, archery, or the nature around them, and he really just knows everything about everything. Next week, after parents’ day, after some of the younger kids go back home, Lan-Gege will lead them on a canoe trip, which is always easily the coolest part of the summer, and this time, Sizhui has the inkling that it just might be legendary, if only for the addition of one Wei Wuxian.

If only for the fact that said addition means Lan-Gege has been smiling so much just this summer, so much more than all previous summers combined, probably.

“Look, I’m just saying, we haven’t had a camp wedding in years,” Jingyi suggests, the two of them making their way back to camp a bit later than everyone, after having stayed behind to ostensibly help the groundskeeper with cleaning up - really, they just wanted a proper chance to look around in some of the less accessible spots for a scavenger trophy or two, to no avail.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure Lan-Gege will be thrilled,” Sizhui sniggers, “let’s just get Zizhen to camp-marry A-Qing, that should be fun.”

“Your mind, my friend, it works wonders,” Jingyi commends him.

“Uh-huh. Somehow I don’t think he’s ready for the commitment.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh, look, there he goes - let’s ask him. Hey Zizhen! We’ve got a proposition for you!”

In hindsight, they probably should have realized something was wrong when they saw their friend running - Zizhen is known to never run, or move at any speed faster than his trademark lazy saunter, but right now, he’s skidding to a halt in front of them, eyes wide.

“It can wait,” he announces, “we’ve got a... thing. A problem.”

“A thing and a problem?” Jingyi laughs, “color me intrigued.”

“Yeah, shut up, ” Zizhen dismisses him uncharacteristically sharply, “this is serious. Come on.”

“Whoa, alright, alright,” Jingyi raises his hands, shooting Sizhui a curious look even as Zizhen is practically dragging them back towards the main lodge, “what’s going on? What is it?”

“Zizhen, what happened?” Sizhui demands.

“Yeah, so you remember how we were just minding our own business last year, and then suddenly Jin-Gege was nowhere to be found, and like five seconds later Lan-zong was telling us he’d had to leave unexpectedly, and not to worry?”

“...We recall, yeah?” Jingyi says slowly, but Sizhui sees it first, and punches him in the arm, directing his attention towards it - there’s an unfamiliar car parked by the lodge, and where kids should slowly be lining up for lunch in the square, they’re instead standing around in little groups, chatting excitedly, an air of... some mystery around it all.

“He’s back?” Sizhui wonders, “why? Why now?”

“Oh, it was definitely a surprise ambush,” Zizhen explains, “he just drove up out of nowhere. You should have seen Lan-zong’s face. Boy, he was not happy.”

“Holy shit,” Jingyi exhales, “what do you think he wants?”

“I’m sure he’s just... I don’t know, visiting,” Sizhui attempts to find some sense in it, “come on, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal.” That’s A-Qing, appearing by their side out of the blue, and when her and Zizhen both manage to look serious, that’s how they know shit’s actually getting real.

“I’ve never seen Lan- zong this upset, I’m telling you,” she continues, “and Lan-Gege? The second he laid eyes on Jin Guangyao, he was ready to throw down. Wei-Gege and him went in there, and so did others, I’m pretty sure. They’re probably having it out in the dining hall right now, since they’re not letting anybody in just yet, see?”

And really, Wen Ning is currently standing at the doorstep, looking for all the world to see just as nervous to be appointed the guardian of the door, as the kids are just looking at him, and Sizhui can’t help it, his curiosity is spiking.

“Okay, A-Qing, you go distract him,” Jingyi is already taking initiative, probably the wrong way, “we’re gonna sneak around back, see what’s what-”

“We are not going to sneak around back,” Sizhui counters him firmly, “we’re not supposed to go there, are you crazy?”

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Sizhui!” Jingyi scolds him half-heartedly, “come on, this could be serious! Go, A-Qing, go!”

Apparently everyone is on the same wavelength, except for Sizhui, because A-Qing nods firmly, like she’s on some kind of a mission, and trots away to go work her charms on Wen Ning, easy as you please.

“Jingyi, this is not a good idea!” Sizhui hisses, even as he lets himself be pulled halfway across the square, “it might be serious, which is why we need to let the adults deal with it, and ask questions later! Or, better yet, never, because it’s none of our business!”

“It became our business last year, when they kicked out Jin-Gege without so much as a word of explanation as to why everyone suddenly hated him,” Jingyi declares dramatically, “hell, I’m sure it’s justified, Lan-zong doesn’t just let people go without a reason, but I still need to know.”

Miraculously, no one intercepts them all the way to the far side of the lodge, or after - Granny Wen is busy preparing their lunch, they can hear her and Uncle Four stomping around inside, and it gives the three of them the chance to sneak all the way around the building, where a small gate separates them from the courtyard with the chicken coops, and their best chance for eavesdropping.

“This is a bad idea,” Sizhui reiterates as Jingyi shimmies the gate open, then swings it open with minimal creaking, offering: “You’re absolutely right, as always. Come on.”

It’s a very short trip from there to the back wall of the dining hall and its windows, and Sizhui tries not to look the chickens in the eye, too sure they’re judging them - he does look through the window he crouches by, flanked by Zizhen and spurred on by Jingyi, because apparently today is not a day for smart decisions.

“What do you see?” Zizhen hisses, using Sizhui’s back as a chaise-lounge, perfectly capable of leaning in just a little bit further, and looking himself.

“Get off me,” Sizhui grunts, but apparently the three of them really do need to function as a unit to get anywhere, because they settle into some three-headed monstrosity by the window, all trying to steal a glance of what’s going on inside, at least.

Wen Qing is closest to them, sitting on a table with her arms crossed, her expression scorching enough to set it on fire, but the awkward angle isn’t letting them see who she’s looking at, who they also really want to look at - Jiang-Gege strides back and forth nearby, and Lan-Gege can be seen glaring into space on the far side of the room, but not only can Sizhui and the rest not see anyone else, they also can’t hear, courtesy of a little unforeseen obstacle called a closed window.

Wordlessly, Jingyi directs their attention towards an open one, two windows over, and they shimmy over there like a very clumsy Cerberos.

“...And let’s just deal with it then, okay. It’s time for lunch now, come on.”

That’s Mianmian, clearly trying to calm down whatever situation just transpired, and Jingyi curses under his breath.

“Damn, we missed it.”

“Okay, but wait, wait,” Jiang Cheng adds, “we can’t just leave Xichen alone with him, what if he, I don’t know...”

“What, signs over his soul?” Wen Qing scoffs, “relax. Just let the kids in, I’ll go check upstairs in a couple of minutes. Wangji?”

All eyes turn to Lan-Gege, including the spies’, and he only glares some more, for a beat or two, before sighing, suddenly appearing almost exhausted.

“If Xichen says he can handle it,” he shrugs, clearly unhappy about the prospect, “I trust him. Let’s get lunch started.”

“Besides,” Wei Wuxian is suddenly by his side, sauntering into view out of nowhere, “it’s not like Jin Guangyao can steal Gusu from us over the course of one meal. Let’s just all go up there once lunch recess starts, yeah?”

“Steal Gusu?” Zizhen repeats, fortunately remembering to keep his voice down, but he still gets shushed by both Sizhui and Jingyi.

“I’m just saying, we underestimated him once before,” Jiang Cheng growls.

“Nobody’s underestimating anybody,” Wei Wuxian laughs jovially, “but I am starving. Let’s do this.”

Much to the spies’ chagrin, the little gathering disperses, and they barely manage to duck in time to avoid being seen - they can’t move much further than that, simply sitting down underneath the window, mulling over what little they just heard.

“Steal Gusu,” Zizhen repeats, like the concept itself is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “what does that even mean?”

“Hell if I know,” Jingyi shakes his head, “but we have to learn more. Right, Sizhui?”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Sizhui scoffs, leaning on the wall, “it’s not like we can just walk up to Lan-Gege and ask him about it.”

“Ask me about what?”

It’s a credit to their combined agility that they manage not to hit their heads on the windowsill as they scramble to their feet - Lan Wangji stands in the window like he just wants to take in the soothing sight of the dingy backyard, but there isn’t a hint of amusement in his look.

“Lan-Gege!” Zizhen’s voice gains that high pitch to it that it always does when he’s nervous, “we were just-”

“Oh, come on, there’s no way out of this one,” Jingyi cuts him off solemnly, “let’s just call a spade a spade. Sizhui?”

Oh, real nice, Sizhui’s elbow communicates to Jingyi’s ribs.

“Lan-Gege, we’re sorry,” he speaks as honestly as he possibly can, “I told these two it was a bad idea to eavesdrop, but when we heard Jin-Gege was back...”

He can literally see the anger taking over his favorite Counsellor’s features, which just means he looks all the more intimidating, really - but it’s over in a flash, oddly enough, and ends up replaced with just... exhaustion, really, beyond that impenetrable scowl.

“Jin Guangyao isn’t here to stay,” Lan Wangji says somewhat cryptically, “and you’re not supposed to be back here. Please go around the front and join the others.”

“But, Lan-Gege-”

“Now, Jingyi.”

Knowing better than to argue, Sizhui gets a good grip on both Zizhen’s and Jingyi’s arm, and pulls them firmly away, apologizing a couple more times as they go - only when they turn the corner do all three of them relax, although that term is to be used only very loosely.

“Holy shit,” Jingyi comments, “I haven’t seen Lan-Gege this pissed in a while.”

“I know, right?” Zizhen agrees, “this smells fishy. Something is going on.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “I wonder if Nie Huaisang knows anything, maybe we should ask him.”

“Good thinking! Out of all of them, he might actually be willing to talk to us...”

“Guys, enough,” Sizhui says urgently, “if anything, I was right, this seriously is not our business. We can’t just go snooping around...”

“Yeah, I know,” Jingyi looks almost bashful for the entirety of two seconds, before his eyes light up at something he sees way before Sizhui does, and he adds: “But also consider this - Wei-Gege!”

“Crap,” Sizhui can only curse under his breath and follow, as Jingyi and Zizhen escape his grasp and lunge ahead to intercept the lone Counsellor directing the stream of children pouring into the lodge for lunch.

“Wei-Gege! Is it true?”

“Huh? Is what true?” Wei Wuxian cocks one eyebrow, even as he’s checking each passing kid’s hands for signs of being at least in the close proximity of running water and soap in the past couple of minutes.

“You know,” Jingyi leans in conspiratorially, “is you-know-who back? Is it bad news?”

And just like Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian looks like he might say something else, but then he just... doesn’t, and if they’re used to their Lan-Gege looking a bit unapproachable sometimes, to put it mildly, seeing Wei Wuxian’s usually cheerful features turn serious and cold is a whole nother thing to contend with.

“Go wash your hands,” he says simply, “I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you do it since yesterday.”

“But...”

“I’m serious. Go now. We are not talking about this right now. Or ever. Go, go.”

“Is everything alright...?” Sizhui is actually starting to get worried, and the look Wei Wuxian levels him with speaks volumes.

“Yeah, everything’s peachy. Hands, soap, now.”

It’s funny, Sizhui thinks as he herds his friends away, already engaged in lively speculation - funny how things can take a turn for the exciting so quickly around here, although that might not be the best term, after all. Everything is decidedly not peachy all of a sudden, and he knows they’re still just kids, and thus definitely not supposed to be meddling or trying to ask unnecessary questions, but... Just earlier today, he was marveling at how much nicer things are, when Lan-Gege smiles more, and when Wei-Gege forces him to do it, just by way of being himself, and he doesn’t want that going away, not now, not ever.

“You were right, Jingyi,” he declares, the three of them dutifully washing their hands side by side, interrupting Zizhen’s speculations about pyramid schemes or something.

“Oh, there’s a first,” Jingyi is appropriately amazed, “about?”

Sizhui stares at his own soap-covered hands - even that hasn’t changed in all these years, the battered metal sinks, the sputtering taps that only have a very vague idea about the correct distribution of hot and cold water... All of these little details finish the huge picture of Gusu, that they all love so much, and it might be in some sort of danger, or it might not, but either way...

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Sizhui admits, “but we have to learn more.”

Well, alright, so apparently it really is going to be like this - seemingly one second, Wei Wuxian is on top of the world, and nothing matters in said world other than keeping up with Lan Zhan, chasing after him wherever he goes, making sure they’re in the same room at any given moment simply because it feels right... And then, a second later, everything’s upside down, everything’s serious, and he can’t even chart the course that led them here.

Frankly, he suspects there isn’t one - not one either of them could have controlled, or foreseen, really.

An unfamiliar car is pulling up in front of the main lodge just as they’re returning from their morning activities, and that in and of itself isn’t that unusual - could be a disgruntled parent Xichen forgot to inform them about, or just, like, a regular parent, or a delivery... person, or something, but somehow, Wei Wuxian’s step falters at the same time as Lan Zhan’s, and they need only exchange a single glance to know better.

Time slows down - Wei Wuxian thinks he can physically feel it slowing down around them, like they’re suddenly wading through molasses - as the car door swings open, and Jin Guangyao strides out, and Xichen walks out of the lodge at the same time, and sees him. And at that point, Wei Wuxian has heard the gist of the story, and his overactive imagination has supplied the rest of it, but even if he didn’t, even if Lan Zhan hadn’t told him about the shares, and the falling out, and the proverbial knife Jin Guangyao has left in Xichen’s back, he’d still be able to read it all in their Camp Leader’s face.

To say that Xichen does a double take is putting it very mildly - he looks like he’s been struck, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out, not even when Jin Guangyao smiles at him, and it’s a kind smile, a perfectly lovely one, so good to see you, but Wei Wuxian is already reacting on pure instinct, moving forward before he even registers himself doing it, and so is Lan Zhan, with decidedly more speed, and anger.

“What...” Xichen starts, but his voice betrays him, coming out barely louder than a sigh, and he clears his throat and tries again, hoarsely: “What are you... doing here?”

He can’t see it, and Lan Zhan definitely can’t see it, but Wei Wuxian registers the change far too well - this newest arrival is turning heads already, kids randomly stopping and gawking, ‘Is that...?’, and he realizes, of course. He was still here just last year. They’re bound to remember him.

The thought alone makes bitter bile rise in his throat, god knows why, and his hand is finding Lan Zhan’s arm before he can think twice about it.

“Lan Zhan, wait...”

But it’s no use, there’s nowhere Lan Zhan wants to be right now but by his brother’s side.

“Xichen,” Jin Guangyao says softly, like he’s relieved, “I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this. I tried calling, but you know how the reception is around these parts...”

“What,” Lan Zhan interrupts him coolly, firmly, standing next to Xichen now, “do you want?”

“Wangji! Good to see you again. If it’s not too much of an imposition, we really need to talk...”

Wei Wuxian gets the luxury of just... watching for a couple of seconds, unnoticed, and it’s... well. He remembers Jin Guangyao, goddamn, of course he does, but this is all that he remembers of him - short, polite to a fault, always smiling, always by Xichen’s side... When Wei Wuxian himself became a Junior Counsellor, for that one fateful summer years ago, he thinks he might have seen the faintest hint of a slightly different side to the guy, but... again, such a long time ago.

Lan Zhan recounted the missing years pretty thoroughly just two days ago, Wei Wuxian and him sitting side by side much longer into the night than anticipated, but still, if he understands those threads of the story correctly, no one actually saw it coming, when this little dude decided, seemingly out of the blue, to just try and sell Gusu to the highest bidder, right under their noses.

Just as well, no one expected him to keep trying, which shows in the faces of literally every single other adult who appears on the scene, like they’re suddenly staging a play on the doorstep of the main lodge - Wen Qing never looks anything but stern, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this coldly furious, while her brother just stares mutely. Mianmian, surrounded by her own group of children and just returning from the forest herself, mouths ‘what the fuck’ at her girlfriend, then at Wei Wuxian, receiving a satisfactory answer from neither.

Nie Huaisang looks ready to commit murder, and that is a look Wei Wuxian thinks he’s seeing for the very first time, too, before it’s quickly transformed into something as calm as it is impenetrable, and he fumbles for his phone, for some godforsaken reason...

Jiang Cheng is the last one to arrive, leading his own gaggle of kids, which, unfortunately, includes Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian is reminded once again that this is... right, personal.

“Shushu?” Jin Ling inclines his head, and seemingly every single eye is on him at that moment, and it’s apparently enough for Jin Guangyao to look away from Xichen for at least a second, and spread out his arms, ‘A-Ling!’, and before they know it, he commands the scene with a few practiced strokes, Jin Ling in his embrace, and those kids that remember him crowding around them, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know whether to look at him, at the bitter bite of anger in Jiang Cheng’s face, or at Lan Zhan, who’s almost shaking with it...

“A-Yao. Let’s go inside. Right now.”

Xichen never needs to raise his voice to get his point across - everyone just... pays attention to him, naturally, always, and it works this time, too. All heads turn to him, and Wei Wuxian wonders if anyone else sees it, sees how pale he is, like he’s aged a decade in just these couple of minutes, sees how Jin Guangyao and him look at each other, some utterly silent argument passing between them, until their surprise visitor yields, sets Jin Ling down, and follows.

And so does everyone else, without ever really confirming it among themselves - Lan Zhan sticks to his brother’s side like glue, even though Xichen murmurs something to him, something that only meets with a firm headshake... Wei Wuxian hurries after them, Jiang Cheng by his side, and Wen Qing only orders her brother to wait by the door until lunch is served, and is already conversing with Nie Huaisang as they all pour into the hallway.

“My goodness,” Jin Guangyao also has a way of commanding the room, all eyes turning to him, “it’s so good to see all of you again, but I was rather hoping Xichen and I might have a moment in private-”

“No,” Lan Zhan says so strictly, so icily, Wei Wuxian isn’t the only one surprised.

“No way,” Wen Qing agrees, “whatever you have to say to him, you can say to all of us.”

“What are you even doing here?” Jiang Cheng adds, and again, Wei Wuxian is the observer in the situation - everyone crowds Xichen, slowly, probably utterly unwittingly, until they’re standing between him and Jin Guangyao, a wall of glares, and he wonders if that’s how it happened last year, too - he hasn’t been able to get the specifics out of Lan Zhan, but he doesn’t imagine Xichen kicking Jin Guangyao out before the summer was even close to concluding, could have gone in any way smoothly.

“Alright now,” the suspiciously short man of the hour sighs, that insufferable smile still in place, “I promise I didn’t come back just to stir up trouble. I know you’re all very busy, and I really just need to confirm a couple of things with Xichen here-”

“You’re not fooling anybody,” Wen Qing all but snarls, “you could have picked up the phone, or sent an email or five, like a normal person.”

“Oh, but I have. Xichen and I have been talking, but time is of the essence now. Lan Qiren seems to think so, too.”

That meets with stunned silence - Wei Wuxian knows, courtesy of Lan Zhan confiding in him, that Xichen has been getting a lot of inconveniently timed calls from both their Uncle and Jin Guangyao pretty much ever since the summer started, but the others are mostly clueless, and don’t appreciate being that way, as is immediately evident in all of their faces.

“Xichen,” the tone of Wen Qing’s voice is almost warning, “what is he talking about?”

All eyes turn to their Camp Leader now, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this visibly distraught - it’s just a couple of seconds, before he steels himself and a soft, placid, lifeless smile appears on his face, but it speaks volumes.

“Alright, everyone,” he sighs, “it’s high time for lunch. A-Yao and I are going to talk upstairs, while all of you handle that. I’ll be right back.”

“But-!” Jiang Cheng and Mianmian step forward in unison, while Wen Qing scoffs, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes are on Lan Zhan, and the world of hurt in his face.

“Xichen,” he says simply, one step forward, and it’s so clear he wants to help, wants to be included, but his big brother won’t let him.

“Wangji,” he utilizes that dismissive, hollow smile some more, “it’s alright. Please don’t worry. Go, get lunch started.”

“No, I-”

“Now.”

And with that, the thread of the moment snaps - with one motion of his arm, Xichen orders Jin Guangyao upstairs, and everyone else gapes at the two of them ascending the creaking stairs until they’re out of sight, completely incapable of uttering one more word.

“Well, fuck.”

Wei Wuxian is mildly horrified that those words come from his own mouth, but it seems to work to jolt everybody back to life, at least - he watches Lan Zhan’s face crumpling, his shoulders tensing even more than they were before, and when he turns on his heel and marches into the dining hall, everyone follows, suddenly talking over one another.

It takes them some time to settle down, and even more time for Lan Zhan to explain the situation - yes, there have been phone calls, and no, it isn’t looking particularly good, no matter how you spin it. Apparently, after Jin Guangyao didn’t succeed at whatever he tried to pull last year, he didn’t just stop and sit with his hands in his lap, but rather thought to contact Lan Qiren himself, shortly before this year’s camp started. Lan Qiren, who, as everybody knows or is reminded of, was the first one who wanted to get rid of Gusu, who washed his hands of it all those years ago, but never actually let go of his share - letting Xichen redistribute those was enough lenience on his part. 

Lan Qiren, who, with a bit of convincing, was now apparently very interested in selling said share to none other than Jin Guangyao, if it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with Gusu at all, anymore...

Wei Wuxian’s head is spinning by the time they agree to reconvene after lunch and see what Xichen has to say about it all, and he doesn’t even have enough time to catch Lan Zhan, before he’s already directing the stampede of kids inside the dining hall, before Sizhui and the others are asking him, is it true?

They’ve all decided, or rather Wen Qing has made them all swear, that nothing of what they’ve talked about will ever make it among the children, no matter how curious they are, and so Wei Wuxian dismisses them easily enough - at first.

After lunch, everyone is restless - the kids pour back into their cabins and tents, and the shade of the pines, but all the adults linger in the general vicinity of the lodge, just waiting for Xichen to descend. He does so, much later than is in any way alright or sensible, pale as a sheet, his lips set in a firm, humorless line, but he fends off question after question as he piles food on two plates to take back to his office upstairs, a move that has some raising their eyebrows all the way into their hairline, while others slowly steep in equal parts worry and anger.

Wei Wuxian can only observe from afar, as he’s in charge of cleanup duty today, directing kids collecting dishes and wiping tables left and right, as Lan Zhan stands toe to toe with his brother, again, their words too quiet to hear all the way across the span of the dining hall.

I’m going with you, he thinks he catches Lan Zhan insisting, and Xichen shakes his head, but if that smile can’t fool Wei Wuxian any longer, then it definitely can’t be working on Xichen’s own brother - he stands his ground and does follow, in the end, and thus Wei Wuxian now has two Lans to worry about.

He’s not the only one worrying, not by a long shot, but clearly that state of being extends past the adults - Sizhui and the others find him at lunch recess, right as he’s trying and failing to coax any good melodies out of his harmonica without a guitar accompanying him, and it’s so obvious they want to know more so bad, and Wei Wuxian has to tread very carefully so as not to say too much.

“Look, you might actually know more than I do,” he shrugs, in what is a very unwise choice of words, “I wasn’t even here last year, I barely know what happened.”

“You think they told us?” Jingyi grumbles, Sizhui and Zizhen and him coming to a unanimous decision to just sit down around Wei Wuxian - at any other point in time, he’d be thrilled, but right now, he has some common sense left.

“Yeah, we had no clue,” Zizhen adds, “one second, Jin-Gege was there, the other, he was gone. Packed his bags and left within the span of, like, one afternoon.”

“And they didn’t even explain,” Jingyi continues, “all Lan-zong said was... something about a misunderstanding, and that it was all very unfortunate, and inevitable, or whatever, but... you know. No specifics.”

“Yeah, well, look,” Wei Wuxian sighs, scrambling to come up with words, any words, that will not leave the boys disappointed, while also revealing as little as possible, “it was, from what I understand anyway, just really personal. Not something you dredge up in front of dozens of kids.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “it had to be, I’d never heard Lan-zong shout before.”

“There was shouting?” Wei Wuxian quirks his brow.

“Big time,” Jingyi nods, “or, well, you know. That one time, that we overheard. Sort of when we weren’t supposed to.”

“You guys,” Wei Wuxian half scoffs, half sighs, plastering his hand to his forehead, “incorrigible.”

“We’re sorry,” Sizhui offers a blanket apology for all of them, “we weren’t actually sneaking anywhere, that time. Kind of just happened to be in the kitchens helping out, and overheard them talking in the backyard... It wasn’t pretty. But, Wei-Gege, what’s going to happen now?”

“What’s going to happen now, is you’re going back to your tents.”

That’s Wen Qing, materializing out of thin air by their side, and the boys startle just as bad as Wei Wuxian - she intimidates any and all.

“But, Wen-Jie,” Jingyi tries, “we were just...”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she says sharply, “off you go. Wei Wuxian, with me.”

And that’s that on that - Wei Wuxian shoots them a pained pout, one that Jingyi mirrors more than successfully, and then Wen Qing is all but dragging him by the collar to the infirmary, where they can talk behind closed doors.

“I was serious when I said the kids can’t catch wind of any of this,” she accuses him, “I know you don’t give a crap about the rules, and it’s charming most of the time, but personal business never makes it among the children, you know this.”

“Hey, hey!” Wei Wuxian raises his hands in his defense, “I didn’t tell them a thing, I swear! I swear it, Wen Qing! They came to me, if anything I was trying to throw them off the scent. They don’t know anything, they were just curious.”

She glares at him like she’s having a difficult time believing him, but then she sighs, running her hands down her face.

“Fine,” she groans, “we have to keep it that way, because what a fucking mess.”

She’s always just a little bit on edge, but this time, Wei Wuxian notes, she looks actually worried - aside from Lan Zhan, and Xichen of course, she’s been in Gusu the longest, and thus she probably cares just as fiercely. It’s kind of... It makes Wei Wuxian’s heart clench.

“Have you been to see them?” he tosses his head in the vague direction of Xichen’s office upstairs.

“Yeah. Xichen’s locked the door.”

“Shit, dude.”

“Yeah. I hate this.”

“Poor guy. The kids tell me, without any prompting whatsoever, mind you,” Wei Wuxian is quick to defend himself, “that it got pretty hairy last year? I mean, if even they caught wind of it...”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes, “it was hell.”

“Tell me?” Wei Wuxian shoots his shot, only about ten percent sure he might even succeed, but miraculously, she relents.

“It was... ugh,” she starts unsteadily, busying herself with rearranging one of her supply cabinets, “just awful. They were already on edge on day one. We didn’t know why, at the time, and it was unsettling as hell, because they’d always been so in sync. But this time around... well, Xichen looked everything but happy, most of the time, and Jin Guangyao... They kept disagreeing over the stupidest things, then acting perfectly normal for days, then starting up again. We didn’t know at the time, that Jin Guangyao had already suggested selling, before the summer even started. We didn’t know, and Xichen wouldn’t say, not until he was literally kicking him to the curb. It was not pretty.”

“Yeah, so they tell me,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, “so... what? Xichen said he wouldn’t sell, over my dead body, and told him to pack his bags?”

Wen Qing glares at him so sharply for a moment, he’s unduly scared she might throw something at him, but then she just shakes her head, and slams the door of the cabinet shut.

“You weren’t there,” she says plainly, “those weren’t just... creative differences. It was personal, do you understand? For Xichen, because he’d trusted this guy, but for all of us as well, because so had we. Because it was the future of Gusu at stake, and Gusu is...”

“Your home, yeah, I know,” Wei Wuxian mumbles - his heart is suddenly heavy.

“Yeah. So it wasn’t just Xichen, telling him to pack his bags, when we found out. It was all of us. But... you know. Not all of us were also breaking up with the guy at the same time.”

And therein lies the crux of the issue - the line between personal matters and running a business is almost nonexistent where Gusu is concerned, for everyone included. They’ve all grown up here, they’ve formed friendships, relationships, here, and it hits all of them equally hard, whenever this fragile equilibrium threatens to shatter.

Some days, Wei Wuxian feels included, feels like he’s found his place here again, but then he’s always reminded - you weren’t there. Not that it’s enough to stop him caring , mind you - he goes half out of his mind, waiting for Lan Zhan to reappear, and when he doesn’t make it before the bell announces the start of afternoon activities, Wei Wuxian lingers and stalls for time, but has to take the kids away eventually. They’re just as antsy as he is, that much is obvious, and the relief in their voices, ‘Lan-Gege, there you are!’, when Lan Zhan finally finds them in the forest, is palpable.

“So?” Wei Wuxian utters, but Lan Zhan only shakes his head.

“Let’s talk later. What are we playing?”

A week ago, he might have been worried that they’ll never talk at this rate, but now, Wei Wuxian knows, with a sort of steady certainty, that later actually means... that, and he can be patient, he can, until the evening. They spend a couple of hours making sure the kids are too busy sprinting from one end of the forest to another, to ask too many questions, and succeed at taking their own minds off the issue so thoroughly, that they both end up groaning in frustration when they come back to camp, and see Jin Guangyao still there - fortunately, he looks like he’s just about to leave, which is a small relief.

“Not sleeping over, then?” Wei Wuxian grins at him perfectly innocently, and receives a once-over that tells him exactly what kind of hornets’ nest he’s poking, before that beatific smile snaps into place.

“Not tonight,” Jin Guangyao smirks, “we’ll see about other nights. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing what brought you back.”

“Oh, I’m told someone got booted out before the summer was even halfway through, last year,” Wei Wuxian shoots back effortlessly, “so, you know, guess it was just common sense at play.”

“That’s one word for it. I’ll be seeing you. Wangji.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t move an inch, his face cool and utterly impenetrable, and Wei Wuxian holds off on shuddering until after the car is long gone.

“Talk about a devil in disguise, huh,” he huffs, but Lan Zhan completely underreacts, even by his standards - the tension won’t leave him any time soon.

Won’t leave any of them any time soon - they have to wait all evening long to learn more, Xichen firmly locked up in his office, and when he doesn’t even show up for the lullaby, again, the friction reaches an all time high. Curfew finds them rushing through their duties until they’re all sitting side by side in the dining hall, uncharacteristically quiet, the anguish and anticipation both written clear as day in all their faces, in the uncomfortable quiet in between their short-lived conversations.

This time, Xichen descends right on time for their usual evening briefing, but he visibly falters at the sight of all of them lined up in waiting - he looks just plain sick, like he hasn’t slept or eaten or just breathed easy in days, and Wei Wuxian feels so incredibly sorry for him he almost does something stupid to try and diffuse the situation, but before he can get to his usual repertoire of Jokes For Every Awkward Moment, Xichen takes a seat at the front of the table, pinches the bridge of his nose, and doesn’t even pretend like he wants to talk about tomorrow’s activities, or the updated duty roster.

“Alright, look,” he says stiffly, like he’s been preparing himself all day for this and it still wasn’t enough, “I know you’re all worried, and want to know what’s going on, but I’ve got it under control. Gusu’s not going anywhere, not while I have anything to say about it. A-Yao... will be back, but I promise you will all know about it beforehand, this time. I’m really sorry about today.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, watches Lan Zhan’s jaw working against a whole lot of emotions; watches Jiang Cheng, whose fingers never stop drumming on the table; Mianmian, leaning forward with what’s half an attentive scowl, half a grimace of disbelief. Wen Ning, looking from Xichen to his sister, who, yet again, glares. Granny Wen and Uncle Four, who are leaning in the door of the kitchen, not even trying to look like they’re not listening, too.

“And...?” Nie Huaisang is the one to voice the common sentiment in the room, “that’s it?”

“How do you mean?” Xichen sounds, above all, exhausted down to his bones.

“Come on,” Wen Qing takes over, “everybody in this room wants to help. Just bring us in the damn loop already. Maybe there’s something we can do-”

“There isn’t,” Xichen says sharply, before he remembers he’s supposed to be smiling, and comes up with a bitter, sad approximation of it, repeating more softly: “There really isn’t. This is something I have to deal with on my own, and I just wish it weren’t happening while the children are here. I do not want to get any of you involved, believe me.”

“But we are involved, simply by virtue of being here,” Wen Qing sighs, “you two spent hours up there today, Xichen, you can’t expect me to believe you were just catching each other up, huh?”

“Yeah, come on,” Jiang Cheng adds, “if Jin Guangyao thinks he can just saunter in here after what he pulled last year, he’s got another thing coming.”

“Hell yeah!” Mianmian chimes in, “who does he think he is? I’m sure as hell not going to let him just wander around here like nothing ever happened-”

“Alright, enough,” Xichen says quietly, simply, but as usual, it’s more than enough to shut everyone up, albeit in a somewhat shocked manner, “that’s enough. I need all of you to remember what’s actually important here - we’ve got seventy children relying on us for a smooth day-to-day experience, and there is no higher priority than that. I will not have us worrying our heads off over unimportant things-”

“How is this unimportant?!” Wen Qing throws her hands up, “we can’t have a smooth day-to-day experience if there’s nowhere to have it!”

“It won’t come to that, you know it won’t,” Xichen counters, “I won’t let it.”

“You keep saying that, but you sure as hell let Jin Guangyao drive all the way up here out of the blue, and for what? We kicked him out for a reason, Xichen.”

“I didn’t let him do a thing, I was just as clueless about that as you were, you have to believe me-”

It’s the ‘you have to believe me’ that lingers in the air, the sort of quiet desperation behind those words, but they don’t get to dissect them any further, because just like in any good horrible story that isn’t set for quick resolutions, the moment snaps when Xichen’s phone rings in his pocket - despite the situation, despite literally everyone looking to him for answers, he fishes it out, and goes even paler in the face when he looks at it, if that’s even possible.

A look probably only decipherable to the two of them passes between him and Lan Zhan, and then Xichen is answering it, and striding out of the room as he does so.

“Uncle,” they can hear him saying before he’s out of earshot, “no, yes, we talked...”

The dead silence in the room stings - Wei Wuxian thinks that the first person to speak should be him, for some godforsaken reason, but then maybe it should be nobody, until Xichen comes back, until they can talk some more, until something starts making sense.

“If Jin Guangyao succeeds,” Lan Zhan is actually the one to speak up, and all eyes immediately turn to him, “and buys out Uncle Qiren, he’ll become a majority shareholder, and will almost certainly try and offer Gusu to his father’s real estate company. He frames it as rebranding, and says the camp will still be allowed to happen, but we all know exactly what level of honesty he’s capable of.”

“You’re serious,” Jiang Cheng exhales, “that weasel. Don’t you and Xichen hold a share each? And Nie Mingjue?”

“Technically speaking, yes,” Lan Zhan gets the words out slowly, mechanically, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly very aware of their knees brushing under the table - wonders if reaching out and holding his hand, again, would have the desired effect of helping him relax, or cause the exact opposite of that. “Those shares are in no way equal to the total sum of what Uncle Qiren holds, and is now willing to sell.”

Wei Wuxian sees it in all their faces, and wonders if it’s mirrored in his own, too - an actual, real fear. This is no longer just a distant, unnamed concern that can be put off until after the summer, or left to someone else to deal with, no matter what Xichen would like them to believe. But also, now more than ever, it brings a feeling of togetherness, however strained, tethering them all to one another, and to this place. Wei Wuxian’s thread, that, too, was loose for the longest time, but he thinks that maybe, it was always going to lead him back here.

He braves the unknown, and his fingertips travel over to the back of Lan Zhan’s hand - only this time, without either of them acknowledging it, Lan Zhan turns his palm up and opens it, for their fingers to entwine.

No, yeah, Wei Wuxian would always have come back here, he decides - because where else is there to go, really?

“Huaisang,” Wen Qing says, holding Mianmian’s hand vastly more visibly, in a perfect mirror to Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan’s little moment, which almost makes him blush, but he’s too intrigued by her next words to think too hard about it. “I think it’s time to call your brother.”

Where Wei Wuxian would expect him to frown in confusion, just like he himself is frowning, Nie Huaisang looks almost... calm? It’s definitely a look he doesn’t ever remember seeing on the kid, almost cold, almost calculating, before he smiles, and waves his phone at them, and declares very plainly: “Oh, way ahead of you.”

Chapter Text

Sixteen Years Old

Far be it from him to give the children more grief than is strictly necessary, but these are not only out very long past curfew, they’re also surprisingly loud - of the firm belief that intercepting them is the right thing to do, but also a good opportunity for stalling having to return to the main lodge and answer questions, Wei Wuxian slows down, takes one last quick swig from his bottle of beer, and heads in the vague direction of the muffled chatter.

If anything, this will give him enough time to finish his drink and not have to answer for that later, either.

He sticks to the trees to the best of his ability, avoiding the glow of the lamps, but the same cannot be said for the two he’s tailing - they’re trying their damnedest to be sneaky, but it’s obvious they’re nervous, reassuring each other in the same breath that they scold each other to keep quiet... It’s kind of endearing, and Wei Wuxian also has a hard time not bursting into laughter when he realizes who he’s tailing.

“Nie Huaisang,” he does his best impression of Nie Mingjue’s deep deep voice, overdoing it for dramatic effect, “I’m going to wring your neck like the little whelp you are- Jiang Cheng? Jeez, not you too.”

The two thieves in the night yelp in startled unison, whirling around to look, and Wei Wuxian is already rolling his eyes as he approaches them and herds them back among the trees - fortunately they’re far away from any sleeping children, but that fact doesn’t really help these two delinquents.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” he demands, “this is not the way to go for a proper moonlit walk, and you know it.”

“Sorry!” Nie Huaisang is quick to jump to apologies, completely earnest ones too, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, while his own little brother has the gall to just cross his arms over his chest, and glare in all his fourteen-year-old bitterness.

“Ugh,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, “just our luck.”

“You are lucky,” Wei Wuxian punches his arm lightly, “I could have been Nie Mingjue, and then you would be in actual trouble, am I right? What is this?”

“We were just checking out the next clue for the scavenger hunt, we swear!” Huaisang cries, and it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to shove him, the betrayer of secrets he is.

“Come on, dude!”

“Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware the scavenger hunt was a night activity,” Wei Wuxian sniggers, and Jiang Cheng frowns at him, while Huaisang just looks incredibly confused.

“What do you mean?” Jiang Cheng says, “the last clue before this one specifically said we could only find more at night, after sleep claims all, or whatever. And since the Ambush already happened, we figured...”

“What? That we’d suddenly drop curfew just for all of you to wander around in the dark?” Wei Wuxian teases him, and Jiang Cheng pouts adorably.

“Shut up.”

“Some people think it is just a false lead,” Nie Huaisang speculates, “but, like, who would do that? And why? Just to catch us out after curfew, I mean-”

“Hey! Is anyone out there?”

“Crap!” Jiang Cheng curses, but has enough agility to evade Wei Wuxian’s slap, as they all turn in the direction of the new voice - someone’s approaching from the heart of the campsite, and don’t have a whole lot of time to decide their next course of action.

“Alright, scram,” Wei Wuxian takes charge, and when the two just gape at him, he insists: “What, do I have to actually kick you all the way back to your tents? Go, go! Do not let anyone else find you, you little idiots! We’ll talk about this tomorrow!”

That last sentence, he’s kind of whisper-shouting after them, as they finally get the clue and disappear where they came from, hopefully skillfully enough to avoid any more encounters with people much less inclined towards overlooking things than Wei Wuxian.

“Now where could they have gone- oh. Wei Wuxian. It’s just you.”

“Just me, just me,” Wei Wuxian gestures broadly, as Jin Guangyao sizes him up and down. “You look disappointed, Jin-Gege.”

“And you didn’t see anyone coming this way?” the Senior Counsellor wants to know, “I was sure I heard more voices than one.”

“Probably just heard me talking to myself,” Wei Wuxian winks at him, and for a brief moment, Jin Guangyao’s glare has an almost sharp edge to it, but then again, maybe it’s just the distant, dim glow of the lamps playing tricks, because he’s smiling his usual sweet smile a second later, shrugging helplessly.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure!” Wei Wuxian decides to push his luck a little bit, as they walk side by side back to the main lodge, “besides, who would even dare come out after curfew these days? Everybody knows the punishment is so harsh. Although apparently... No no, it’s nothing.”

“Wei-di, you know you can tell me,” Jin Guangyao says so casually, Wei Wuxian almost feels guilty for presuming anything. “What is it?”

But then his curiosity tends to get the better of him these days.

“Well, they always tell us to keep our eyes and ears peeled for any... strange gossip, especially among the older kids.”

“That’s true,” Jin Guangyao says slowly, carefully - if Jiang Cheng’s words are to be believed, he himself probably knows exactly where this is headed. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, doesn’t, not really, but that won’t stop him from prodding.

“This might be nothing,” he continues, perfectly innocent, “but apparently some have gotten it into their heads that some of the scavenger hunt clues can only be found after dark - after curfew. I have no idea who would come up with that, and why. Surely they don’t want to get into trouble that badly?”

“That is odd,” Jin Guangyao doesn’t miss a beat, “I’d like to think they only misinterpreted some of the clues, but...”

“Well, of course Jin-Gege wouldn’t willingly send anyone wandering out after dark,” Wei Wuxian offers his best beatific smile, “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure everyone is smarter than to get caught that easily.”

He’s still not entirely sure what he’s arriving at, or if he’s even in the general vicinity of it, but staring contests, those he can do - Jin Guangyao isn’t that much older than him, but right here, he looks almost too serious for a second, staring at Wei Wuxian like he’s urging him to budge. Joke’s on him, of course, because Wei Wuxian has been perfecting his particular method of not breaking under pressure for ages now, and he’s not about to let it fail him now.

...But then of course there’s the matter of his baby brother, doing an absolutely piss-poor job of sneaking back to his tent not twenty feet away from the main square where Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are currently standing, and Wei Wuxian almost groans out loud in sheer frustration. Unfortunately, Jin Guangyao notices his gaze flickering, and is about to turn to look, and Wei Wuxian isn’t about to let that happen, isn’t about to watch as his brother spends a sleepless night mopping the dining hall floor back and forth half a dozen times...

He brings the almost empty bottle of beer to his lips, from where he’s been hiding it behind his back more or less successfully this entire time, and fortunately for Jiang Cheng, and very unfortunately for Wei Wuxian, Jin Guangyao’s eyes dart to it immediately.

“Wei- di!” he does a very good job of appearing appropriately horrified, “is that... please tell me you’re not drinking!”

“What, this?” Wei Wuxian mumbles sheepishly, looking at the bottle like he is seeing it for the first time, “no, no, this is just... uhh. Uuh.”

God he hopes Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang have managed to sneak their way to their goddamn tent by this point.

“You know alcohol is prohibited!” Jin Guangyao hisses under his breath, “especially since you’re underage!”

“I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian sighs dramatically, “this is a one-time thing, I swear.”

Jin Guangyao measures him mutely for a breathless moment or two, and Wei Wuxian knows what’s coming, but oddly enough, he doesn’t have it in him to do anything to change that.

“Still,” the Senior Counsellor sighs, “you know I’m going to have to report this.”

Wei Wuxian inhales deeply - the air smells of pine resin and smoke, and after he gets through this, he’ll be able to excuse himself, go check on his brother sleeping soundly in his tent (or so help him god), and then sit by the lake and stare at the stars; without another bottle in his hand, maybe, but still. Nothing else really matters.

“Yeah,” he smiles, not giving Jin Guangyao the satisfaction of groveling at his feet, “I know.”

Wangji is sure there are worse times to be helplessly in love with someone, but right now, nothing comes to mind - all he knows is, there’s a wealth of things he wants to tell Wei Ying, a plethora of things he can imagine himself doing, but absolutely no time or space for any of them.

All he knows is, having Wei Ying by his side almost makes up for everything else going on, and he’s going to have to call it enough, at least for now.

“You alright?” Wei Ying asks for what feels like the twentieth time just that day, but fortunately, he doesn’t really expect an answer, Wangji knows - simply sits down next to him, pushing a granola bar into his hands, and proceeds to effectively shout a dozen children into submission, to stop for a second and eat their snack, too.

“Is it time to go back yet?” Wangji wants to know, fully aware that he’s usually the one keeping time, fully aware that Wei Ying knows that, too.

“Not yet, not yet,” he receives a cheerful reply, “don’t worry, I’ll make sure we’re not late. Eat your thing, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji frowns at him, but obliges - he knows and hates that he’s not at his best, but he’s simply too preoccupied, no matter how much he’d like to appear otherwise. Fortunately Wei Ying doesn’t make a big deal out of it, simply picks up the slack without a word of complaint, and keeps going for both of them - he has planned out the entirety of today, for instance, without even consulting Wangji once, simply presenting him with the finished product, and maybe he should be more worried about that, but frankly, Wangji is actually endlessly grateful.

Because everywhere he goes, the idea of losing Gusu won’t leave him, and it’s starting to wear him down.

It’s been less than two days since Jin Guangyao reappeared out of nowhere like a sore spot after a bad night’s sleep, and it simultaneously feels like years and mere seconds have passed since then. Wangji has spent immeasurable hours talking to his brother, poring over the legal documents Xichen has finally let him take a look at, trying to contact his Uncle in the meantime, and he thinks he understands, why Xichen thought it best to keep all of them out of this - turns out, it’s kind of difficult to do one’s job, to keep the summer camp going in all its hundreds of tiny different ways, while also worrying about its very immediate future.

“Xichen, I’m coming in.”

The door to his brother’s office is fortunately unlocked this time, and Wangji budges it open with his elbow and steers in, carefully balancing both cups of tea in his hands - he sets them on Xichen’s desk, and then gets a look at his brother’s face.

“What?” he exhales, “what happened?”

What now?

Xichen knows better than to keep things from him now, has learned very quickly that Wangji simply won’t let up until he learns everything, and so this time, too, he just turns his laptop Wangji’s way, for him to see.

It takes him about five seconds to see nothing but red.

“He can’t be serious,” he hisses, and Xichen rubs his forehead, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, tense and exhausted at the same time.

“It’s just a very preliminary idea-”

“I don’t care,” Wangji says coldly, “he doesn’t get to just send us any preliminary ideas, or business propositions, or financial estimates. We can still take him to court, we can-”

“Wangji, stop it,” Xichen actually chuckles, although it is dry and lifeless at best, “we’re not going to take anybody to court. The second Uncle sees this, he’ll be all over it, and you know it. Logically speaking, it makes perfect sense. On paper, this is Gusu thriving, instead of surviving year after year. The amount of money this could technically generate would be a game changer. We could start fixing things instead of just patching them up, it could get us all new tents, instead of a handful each year-”

“Xichen, stop it,” Wangji emulates him, and surprises even himself, with how desperate he sounds, “we are not doing this. We’re not giving Gusu over to him, or to his vulture of a father, we’re not-”

“What’s the alternative?”

The words, although quiet, feel like a slap in his face, and for a moment, Wangji can do nothing but stare mutely at Xichen, his tea going cold in his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m tired,” Xichen says, and Wangji knows he means it. “Maybe I was just kidding myself, thinking I could do this on my own. We barely make ends meet, every year. How do we keep this place going without someone investing in it?”

“Jin Guangshan isn’t going to invest in it,” Wangji shoots back, “he’s going to remodel it, rebrand it, and every single kid will be replaced with some high-powered suit on a company teambuilding. We can’t let that happen, Xichen.”

“I know,” Xichen exhales, strained, “I just... I don’t know what to do anymore.”

And Wangji knows, knows exactly how much it costs his big brother to admit that - his big brother, who always smiles, always knows the right thing to say, always knows what to do and how to do it. How much it costs him to let Wangji see that, after all that time he spent, from his point of view, shielding him from the brunt of it.

He wants nothing more than to be six years old again, and take his brother’s hand at the very end of summer, and walk up that rocky hill to their childhood home, and sit together on that dusty wooden floor, Wangji drawing a picture of their camp experience that year while Xichen recounts it out loud, as if their parents are just around the corner, listening in...

He actually ponders going there on his own, right now, as he descends the stairs from Xichen’s office - he could just get the key and go sit there on his own for a while, in complete, stale silence, but the idea of being there without Xichen, breaking that tradition even in that small way, is ultimately unthinkable.

What comfort would it bring him, to face the memories of his parents he’d barely have if it weren’t for the photographs everywhere, and tell them that everything they once dreamt about and built hangs in the balance?

The afternoon passes by in a haze - the weather has chosen to take a turn for the unbearably hot, so they spend hours by the water, simply to cool down. That comes with the unfortunate side-effect of actually having to pay attention, because as every Counsellor knows, and as Wen Qing deems it fit to remind them many many times that day, there’s nothing more dangerous than large numbers of children plus a large body of water.

There’s dozens of safety rules to observe, from the time the carefully counted and re-counted groups of kids can spend in the water, to circulating all of their splashing time fairly, to making sure they keep to the shade, and reapply sunscreen, and drink regularly... So many things to watch out for, that by the time the bell tolls for dinnertime, Wangji is almost certain only a couple of minutes have gone by.

He’s uncomfortable and sweaty, entirely too hot and parched, not really having followed his own advice of hydrating properly, and the shade of the pines provides only partial relief. He’d like nothing more than to stay behind and cool off in the water himself, or alternatively just take a good long shower, but neither of those options is available - he barely has the time to change and drink some water, before it’s time to herd the children in for dinner, and the telltale signs of a headache looming on the horizon are ignored, lost in the endless grind of his duties.

The soccer match that takes place after dinner is not only a testament to the kids’ inexhaustible energy, but also something Wangji would very much like to skip, but he can’t - Sizhui and Jingyi rope him into a very impassioned conversation about this or that, and before he knows it, Wei Wuxian is there also, because of course he is, and Wangji is beginning to suspect he’s become thoroughly incapable of saying no to him, at some point.

And so it’s not too long before he’s kicking the ball around himself, and it’s too easy, far too easy, to get lost in the moment and forget about his worries for a hot second, which is the outcome Wei Ying has had in mind this entire time anyway, Wangji thinks.

By the time curfew arrives, his temples are beginning to really throb, but there’s the lullaby to sing - still no Xichen - and the briefing to sit through - all Xichen, looking for all the world to see like everything isn’t falling apart around them - and Wei Ying is by his side through it all, cracking jokes and making sure Wangji at least rolls his eyes fondly at some of them. Wei Ying, who brings him a cup of tea while he himself nurses a frosty bottle of... cider, this time, Wangji thinks, and tells him to go get some rest, and proceeds to set the table alongside Huaisang, for some drinking game no doubt...

Wangji feels like crap, the day having stretched out to the length of about a century, but he also suddenly finds the idea of going to his cabin and lying there in the darkness and quiet... well, not really appealing. Oh, it might do wonders for his physical state, silencing the persistent buzz of his brain slowly setting itself aflame, but then there’d suddenly be more room for thoughts in there, and he finds that thinking isn’t something he wants to do right now. He’s been doing too much of it this entire time, and it’s only succeeded at exhausting him, and making him miserable.

He supports his heavy head with his hand, tucking his chin into it, and watches idly as Wei Ying dances around the table, setting up cup after empty cup in the telltale layout of an impending game of beer pong, and he doesn’t know what leads him to it - right when Wei Ying is about to return for his bottle, Wangji reaches for it, and takes a swig himself.

The cider tastes much sweeter than beer, not that Wangji has a lot of experience with either, and still leaves a burning sensation in his throat, but he kind of likes it right now - what he also likes, is the look on Wei Wuxian’s face, somewhere between mute shock and genuine amusement.

“Lan Zhan!” he guffaws, “you don’t- what are you doing? If you wanted a bottle of your own, you should have just said so!”

“Sorry,” Wangji shrugs, and drinks some more.

“Oh boy,” Wei Ying laughs, “is this what’s happening? Are you drinking now? Alright, alright, you can finish that off, but please be careful! I’m not going to be the one picking you up off the floor if this goes horribly wrong.”

“Don’t worry,” Wangji says firmly, “I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, and all that.

This is fine. This is fine, this is fine, this is absolutely fine.

Wei Wuxian could kick himself for not paying enough attention, even though it feels like that’s all he’s been doing, but punishing himself will have to wait a bit - right now, he has his arms full with a drunk Lan Zhan. Figuratively speaking for now, but he suspects that’s not going to last either.

“Lan Zhan?” he asks very gently, very carefully, “you wanna tell me why you’re sitting with the chickens?”

Lan Zhan glares at him like he’s the stupidest person he’s ever met - which might not be that far from the truth - and points to the rooster currently examining his slouched form, no doubt wondering what divine intervention has allowed him to be let out of his cage very long past curfew.

“They’re good,” he announces extremely seriously, “aren’t they good?”

As if to demonstrate his point, he grabs the befuddled bird, ignoring its squawks of protest, and raises it up for Wei Wuxian to examine, like some strange offering.

“Here,” he says, completely deadpan, “take it. You have to take it.”

“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian whines, sinking to his knees, fumbling to accept the bird as Lan Zhan vehemently presses it into his hands. “Lan Zhan, I can’t just take a chicken. Granny Wen will kill me. Remember her? In fact, she’ll probably kill both of us.”

“But it’s so fat,” Lan Zhan pouts, “you don’t want it?”

“No no, it’s fine, it’s lovely,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t quite to know whether to laugh or cry, “a really nice chicken. But we have to leave it here. Come on, come up, on your feet.”

How the night progressed from letting Lan Zhan have a swig of his cider, to... to this, Wei Wuxian will never know, but he’s fairly sure he’s to blame - in his defense, he really did just want Lan Zhan to unwind and have a bit of unrestrained fun, he couldn’t have known his alcohol tolerance was this bad still. Dear god.

At some point, he just walked out of the door, which wasn’t that unlike him, but Wei Wuxian’s intuition was telling him in no uncertain terms that he might not have made it all the way back to bed - and wouldn’t you know it, it was right.

Lan Zhan actually sways dangerously after he allows Wei Wuxian to pull him to his feet, and so he never lets go of his arm, just to make sure Lan Zhan doesn’t end up walking into a tree, or something.

“Alright, there you go,” Wei Wuxian steers him firmly away from the chicken coops, deciding to deal with that disaster later, “let’s get you to bed now, yeah? That’s right, we’re just gonna walk on over to our cabin, and tuck you in. That sound good?”

“Good,” Lan Zhan parrots, still swaying from side to side ever so slightly.

“Very good. Extremely good. Gonna make you drink some water, too, while we’re at it. Come on. Shh.”

It only occurs to him now, the effect the sight of them might have on any kid unlucky enough to wake up right now - fortunately, they make it through the campsite relatively unscathed, and after a bit of fumbling, Wei Wuxian manages the heroic feat of navigating Lan Zhan up the three narrow stairs and onto the veranda, opening the door to the cabin with his elbow and steering the drunkard inside.

“Alright, there we go, on the bed. Go on. Shit, the water, I forgot the water. Lan Zhan, you’re going to have the headache of the century if I don’t get you to drink any water. Are you gonna be good and wait for me here for two minutes?”

Lan Zhan, now sitting on his bed ramrod straight, only the slope of his shoulders betraying his true state, looks at him like he’s seeing him for the very first time, and sizes him up and down, and pouts.

If Wei Wuxian weren’t so worried about him, he’d laugh, because the sight is adorable - Lan Zhan looks about five years old, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and pinch his cheek, but, well, he abstains.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, “don’t go.”

Wei Wuxian decides to firmly ignore the little leap his heart makes at that, and reaches out to pat Lan Zhan’s arm.

“Aww, I won’t be gone long! I’ll be right back, I swear! You’ll thank me in the morning. Just... stay, okay? Stay!”

Deciding to leave the outcome to the fates, he backs out of the cabin and bolts back across the sleeping campsite - if he’s really lucky, Lan Zhan will just go to sleep on his own, but luck has never really been on Wei Wuxian’s side, now has it. No, it’s much more likely that Lan Zhan will decide to do something supremely stupid, like climb a tree or, or jump into the lake, or... fuck, he has to hurry back.

He doesn’t even bother with explaining himself when he enters the main lodge - everyone else is on their way to bed now, anyway, so he just grabs the water from the little stock of bottles in the kitchen, pretends to help clean up for about five seconds, and rushes back to the cabin.

“No, no, no, Lan Zhan! Bad! Bad Lan Zhan!” he hisses, the figure standing in the door unfortunately utterly unmistakable, but Lan Zhan ignores him completely, busying himself instead with...

“What are you doing? Oh my God, Lan Zhan, put that down!”

Out of all the things Lan Zhan’s drunken mind could have magically produced out of nowhere, a knife was the least of Wei Wuxian’s worries, but clearly the universe has it out for him today, forcing him to be an accessory to... oh, wood carving.

“Lan Zhan,” he speaks like he would to a seven-year-old in the midst of a breakdown, slowly, softly, “what on earth are you doing?”

Lan Zhan ignores him completely, only continues whittling away at the beam holding up the roof of the cabin, and Wei Wuxian approaches him cautiously - he looks so focused it’s as if a whole bunch of cider isn’t coursing through his veins right now, and it turns out he’s legitimately carving something into the ancient wood.

“Lan Wangji... was here,” Wei Wuxian reads out loud, and at that, Lan Zhan sighs heavily, like he’s only just realizing he’s got company, and also just how tired he really is, and his knife-wielding hand fortunately drops to his side.

“You wanna give me the knife, Lan Zhan?”

His thumb brushes across his handiwork, as if to smooth it out, his calligraphy unnaturally neat, and then he looks at Wei Wuxian like he’s assessing him, and declares: “Yes. Your turn.”

“My turn- yeah, alright,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, “maybe later, huh? Come on, come inside.”

He makes sure the knife doesn’t cut either of them and closes it - it’s nicely heavy in his hand, not like all the letter openers some of the parents see fit to equip their city kids with, and despite himself, Wei Wuxian examines it. A memory resurfaces, it was my father’s, give it back!, and he suddenly feels exhausted, weary down to his bones, and also immeasurably sorry for Lan Zhan.

“Drink your water,” he orders him, pushing the bottle into his hands instead of a potentially lethal weapon, and goes about making his mark on the poor old cabin himself after all, right below where Lan Zhan signed it - not where he could ever foresee this night going, but also, somehow, probably not the weirdest thing he’s ever done at two in the morning.

Seemingly satisfied for now, Lan Zhan plops down on the veranda, and stares blankly ahead, while Wei Wuxian does his damnedest not to cut off his own finger - how Lan Zhan managed to keep his handwriting this neat on wood, he’ll never know.

“Can’t lose Gusu,” Lan Zhan declares then, and Wei Wuxian’s heart betrays him again, forgetting how to beat, but he pushes past it.

“Not gonna happen. Drink your water.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” Wei Wuxian channels his best ‘comforting a little girl missing her parents’ performance, “this place isn’t going anywhere, not while any of us have anything to say about it. After all this time, are you kidding? Not gonna happen, I’m telling you. Not gonna let it.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and he sounds almost frustrated, almost like he might want to say more - but then he only shakes his head, and gets back up on his feet, albeit highly unsteadily.

“Wei Ying,” he repeats, then searches for his next words for some time, then comes up with: “It’s past curfew. Let’s go to bed.”

“You’re right about that,” Wei Wuxian sighs, “and that’s an excellent idea. Let’s.”

He moves to get inside, but unfortunately Lan Zhan has the exact same idea, at the exact same time - they collide very uncomfortably on the very cramped veranda, and Wei Wuxian chuckles to himself, both hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, steadying him to his best ability.

“Careful. You first.”

But Lan Zhan doesn’t move, not even an inch - he only glares with that sort of unsettling tipsy intensity when your brain mulls over a single thought for too long, and it’s enough to send tiny, but very loud warning bells ringing in Wei Wuxian’s head.

“Lan Zhan,” he reminds him, “the other way around. Go, go.”

“You’re coming too?”

“Of course I’m coming too.”

“You’re not going to leave again?”

Wei Wuxian knows with absolute certainty that Lan Zhan is decidedly not referring to making another water bottle run, but he only laughs, patting his arm affectionately.

“And leave you alone with this knife? I don’t think so. Go on, off to bed with you.”

Lan Zhan looks like he might protest, but he lets himself be steered inside, at long last, but it doesn’t come without the sudden urge to be chatty, apparently.

“You left once before,” he points out, his words now gaining that slurred edge, convincing Wei Wuxian that if he just lets him talk while also getting him to lie down, he will fall asleep in no time flat.

“I know I did, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? Come on, kick off your shoes already.”

“You left,” Lan Zhan repeats stubbornly even as he obediently unlaces his shoes, like he’s hung up on that one simple fact, “and I let you.”

Wei Wuxian’s hand gets stuck halfway to giving Lan Zhan his water bottle, and he swallows hard - almost laughs, but decides against that, too. Lan Zhan stares like he expects him to finish that train of thought for him, and Wei Wuxian suddenly feels very small, and very helpless, and that’s also not a feeling he wanted to experience at two in the morning.

It had been pouring the day he left, when he was sixteen and didn’t know any better - pouring so hard he was soaked by the time he dragged his bags from his cabin to his Uncle’s car, pouring so hard both Lan Zhan and him looked ridiculous, like they’d both jumped into the lake fully clothed, as they stared at each other and didn’t say a word.

It had been pouring, and Wei Wuxian remembers listening to the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of the car as it turned away from the main lodge and rattled down the forest lane between the cabins, and then away from them... He didn’t really plan on it, but that’s when it hit him - when he realized that it was really happening, that he had been kicked out, that he wasn’t coming back. He’d wanted to ram the car door open and run, back to Lan Zhan, to the forest and the hills, never to emerge again, but he did none of those things, and his Uncle’s calm, but steady stream of reprimands had turned into a dizzying hum in his ears.

“You didn’t let me,” he sighs, slumps heavily on the bed next to Lan Zhan, the ancient wood creaking, “I just... left. Because I was an idiot. There’s nothing you could have done. Now drink your water already, Lan Zhan. Here.”

He takes the bottle from Lan Zhan’s hands and untwists the cap, very aware of Lan Zhan’s eyes on him, but also utterly incapable of reciprocating.

“Drink,” he orders him, pushing the bottle back into his hands, “come on.”

Lan Zhan does so with surprising gusto, downing the water in gulps so thirsty, it ends up trickling down his chin, and despite himself, Wei Wuxian laughs.

“Alright, slow down, slow down! Don’t drown!”

Like the world’s most underpaid caretaker, he takes the bottle back and closes it, then proceeds to dab at Lan Zhan’s wet cheek before he can really think twice about the gesture.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, and it comes out entirely too fond - for his part, Lan Zhan leans into the touch almost imperceptibly, but his eyes are unfocused now, as if he, too, is recalling that stupid rainy day five years ago.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian sees it fit to tell him, because he can’t really think of anything else. “It wasn’t your fault, Lan Zhan.  Please don’t think that. I acted out, because... well, you know. And it cost me Gusu, and it cost me...”

You.

“...A whole lot of things, but I’m really glad to be back. That’s the truth. I’m glad to be here, and I’m glad you’re here, and- oh, okay, you’re lying down now. That’s good.”

He barely has the time to move aside before Lan Zhan slumps onto the bed, but somehow, Wei Wuxian feels compelled to stay after that, to sit by his side like a doting mother, like Wen Qing sits with every kid with a tummy ache.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”

Lan Zhan is watching him now, eyes somehow tired and intent at the same time, and he himself looks years younger, but maybe it’s just Wei Wuxian’s mind supplying him with every memory of this boy at once, all of them he’s left to gather dust all these years - all of his concerned looks, and the annoyed ones too, even his rare smiles and even rarer laughter, years of them are now assaulting Wei Wuxian as if to remind him, he’s been here all this time, since you were both so small.

A part of you has, too.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Lan Zhan reassures himself most of all, and Wei Wuxian, past the point of caring, squeezes his hands folded neatly on his chest - always so prim, his Lan Zhan, even when going to bed at 2AM, drunk as a skunk.

“Nope. Sleep now.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t receive another response for so long he almost becomes convinced Lan Zhan has finally fallen asleep, eyes now closed, his breathing even.

“What’s going to happen to the rabbits?”

Wei Wuxian almost ruins the moment by laughing out loud, but Lan Zhan is so close to sleeping, sounding about seven years old, and genuinely worried as he shifts around in his bed for a more comfortable position. Wei Wuxian gives him some more space, but doesn’t go far, simply sits down on the floor, back against the bedframe, and hugs his knees.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going to happen to them.”

“They’re just out there in the forest, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan insists, quiet but serious, “they should be free.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, “you really like those rabbits, huh?”

“Yeah,” a happy sigh comes from the bed, and Wei Wuxian smiles to himself into the darkness of the cabin.

“Well, tell you what,” he rests his chin on his knees, letting his own tiredness slowly take over, “if Gusu ever closes down - which it won’t - I’ll just stay behind and take care of them. Live in the forest, just me and the rabbits, what do you think of that? I don’t have much else to do, anyway. I’ll just build a hut, forage for berries, you know, the big blackberries that grow near the rocks? And I’ll scare off anyone who might want to come here and take over, how’s that? Just me and the rabbits. I mean I guess you can come too, if you want. Huh? Do you want to, Lan Zhan?”

He doesn’t receive a reply, which must mean his rambling has successfully put Lan Zhan to sleep.

“No, you can’t, I know you can’t. Got that law degree to finish, right? No matter that you wanted to study music, once upon a time. Don’t think I forgot. That’s all you wanted, back then, remember? To play your guitar. But here you are, about to become a lawyer, just like your Uncle ordered, and here I am, about to... forage for berries with some rabbits, I guess, huh? We’ll make it work somehow.”

That last sentence is meant for himself, and himself only, and so he legitimately startles when he hears Lan Zhan make a soft noise, but it is followed by a heavy sigh, and some more shuffling around, and then quiet - he really is asleep now, at long last.

Wei Wuxian fights and successfully resists the almost scorching urge to reach out and just... touch him again, feel the hot skin of his cheek or the soft flutter of his hair, and gets back up to his feet, stumbling over to his own bed, downing the rest of Lan Zhan’s water bottle in the process.

The sheets are soft and accommodating, and his head heavy, so he should be falling asleep any second now, but he finds his mind just won’t settle down - he stares at the ceiling, eyes largely unseeing, and thinks of...

Thinks of carving his own name below Lan Zhan’s into the ancient wood of this cabin, and can’t for the life of him fathom why they didn’t think of that earlier. Thinks of the rabbits in the hills, sure, why not, and of the cave in the forest, and the blackberries by the rocks with the waterfall... Thinks of Gusu, and of carving a little piece of your heart out and leaving it behind, whether you like it or not.

Lan Zhan’s breathing is quiet and easy, and Wei Wuxian thinks of him, because when is he ever not thinking about him, really?

I’m not going anywhere, I swear.

He thinks of that, of promises he probably shouldn’t be making, and of how much of this conversation will be erased from Lan Zhan’s memory come tomorrow, courtesy of some delicious cider, but above all, Wei Wuxian thinks, decides pretty firmly in fact, in the cozy, slightly too hot silence of their cabin that night, that he should probably stop kidding himself.

He falls asleep at some point, to the slightly erratic beating of his own heart mingling with the murmur and whisper of the forest, decided that if he wakes up tomorrow, any clearer about what he actually wants, he’s going to call it a blessing.

He thinks he vaguely recalls a time when things were, for the lack of a better term, alright - his first year as Camp Leader, maybe, when not knowing what to do and having to scramble to come up with a solution to a new problem every five minutes were the worst of his worries. Or probably even long before that, when he was still only a Counsellor, and he had camp rules to secretly revise while his Uncle wasn’t looking...

Or, hell, maybe his last true moment of peace was when he was five years old, and his parents were still alive.

Either way, Xichen is grasping at straws right now, feels like he has been for a while, and the worst of it is, losing the battle and just letting himself fall for a second, doesn’t feel like the worst possible outcome.

It’s impossible to tell how many hours since A-Yao reappeared he’s spent just blankly staring into space, when he should be doing anything but - officially, he’s holed up in his office to work, of course, to try and find a solution to all this, but he finds he’s incapable of that, most of the time.

Xichen, A-Yao still stands on the doorstep, a day, two after he left, you know I would never do anything to put Gusu in danger. You know this. This is meant to help, I swear.

Every time A-Yao called him before this, every time he heard his name coming from Uncle even, Xichen wanted to stop time and somehow transport himself to a year ago, stand there by his own side as he was making one of the most painful decisions of his life, and tell himself, look at this man. Look him in the eye, and try and see the short, stick-thin kid you met fifteen years ago. The boy you grew up with, and fell in love with somewhere along the way.

Is he still in there?

He can’t for the life of him reconcile that memory - no, the wealth of them - with the man who steps out of his car in a very un-Gusu-like full suit in the middle of summer, and wears A-Yao’s eyes and smile and dimples the entire time he attempts to convince Xichen to give up on everything he’s ever believed in.

“We sent him away for a reason. You did,” Wen Qing sees it fit to remind him, time and time again, the one person who will not stop challenging him every step of the way, even as she sits curled up on the one other tiny chair in his office, hands firmly closed around a cup of tea, mirror to Xichen’s own.

“I know,” he says plainly, mulling over his next words until they taste bitter in his mouth: “I just didn’t think I’d have to do it again.”

They had been together for two years, and they were good years - so good, in fact, that at one point, Xichen was convinced there would be many more of them. But then he was also convinced he knew who Jin Guangyao was as a person, that he could trust him, that he’d gotten to see every single facet of him.

“Things are the same as they were last year,” Wen Qing tells him, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

She squeezes his shoulder before she leaves, and a dull cold takes her place.

More often than not, though, that cold is immediately subdued by Wangji being there - it’s a different kind of discomfort, Xichen being forced to contend with just how much his little brother has grown, how much he will not budge on his opinions about leaving Xichen to do all the work on his own, but it’s... Well, he won’t go so far as to call it nice, but it’s something.

Wangji is definitely angry with him, in his own quiet, stubborn way, and Xichen knows he’s hurting him every time he doesn’t share what’s really going on, what he’s really feeling, but it’s a process. It must be. The last time he laid out his feelings fully for someone to see, it resulted in... well, this entire mess still playing itself out, really, so even with his baby brother, Xichen feels the need to be careful.

“Lan Zhan, don’t worry so much! You were a perfect gentleman, if I do say so myself. You just talked a lot.”

It’s thirty minutes before the morning bell, so hearing Wei Wuxian’s voice echoing from the kitchen is a bit of a surprise, and Xichen slows down despite himself, getting an earful of that conversation without really planning for it.

“What did I say? ” Wangji, for his part, sounds a bit rough, like a sore throat or something, and also incredibly concerned - Xichen went to bed very early last night, not to sleep, per se, mostly to stare at a wall until his exhaustion overpowered him, so he has no idea what the rest of the team got up to, and guilt flares in his gut, for whatever reason.

“Well, you know. You were kind of insistent about liking-”

“Liking-?”

“Rabbits, Lan Zhan, relax! You wouldn’t shut up about the rabbits!”

Wei Wuxian’s laughter rings loud and sweet, and Xichen can just see Wangji rolling his eyes - that, at least, puts a smile on his face. Whatever his brother did last night, he’s in no trouble, which is all that matters.

...He reconsiders a bit when he finally deems the moment right to enter the kitchen, and actually sees Wangji - disheveled is one word for the look his brother is sporting, pale and a bit unsteady on his feet, bundled up in a sweater even though the day promises to be extremely hot once the morning chill breaks.

“Morning, you two... Wangji, are you alright?” Xichen approaches, and Wangji actually looks embarrassed, while Wei Wuxian continues grinning.

“Mm. Fine.”

“He’s okay, Xichen-Ge, he’s okay,” Wei Wuxian pats Wangji’s arm fondly, “alcohol does things to all of us sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“You drank?” Xichen quirks one eyebrow, more amused and intrigued than anything else, but Wangji still looks like he’s going to expire from shame any second now.

“Not a lot,” he settles on an answer he himself doesn’t look all that satisfied with, and Wei Wuxian jumps in with a very unhelpful: “Well, not a lot by anyone else’s standards, I guess. But I took really good care of him, I swear! Had him drink water and everything! I’m telling you, Lan Zhan, you would have the headache of a century right now if I didn’t get you to drink that...”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji protests mildly, but doesn’t, in fact, put up any fight when Wei Wuxian presses a glass of more water into his hands - Xichen, who is convinced that his brother’s headache is, in fact, still happening as they speak, only smiles at that and leaves them to it.

If anything, it’s nice to know that some things are playing out as they should be, at least. If he’s allowed to have faith in anything, he’s going to put it in Wangji finally working things out for himself, and snatching a slice of happiness of his own.

Of course there’s no telling that that’s how things will play out between Wei Wuxian and him, but then, Xichen tries to not presume anything these days.

He spends the morning surprisingly peacefully, all things considered - decides to forgo staring at that godforsaken proposal A-Yao sent his way for fear of losing his mind over it completely, and decides instead to sit with Granny Wen and Uncle Four in the backyard, helping them dice vegetables and listening to their gentle bickering.

This, he realizes, is where he feels most at peace, at the end of the day - where he can almost pretend nothing has changed, among the people he’s known all his life, under the pines, enjoying the strange privilege of experiencing the campsite growing quiet without the children there. He can hear Wen Qing indoors, humming a soft tune as she restocks her infirmary, and he can hear the ancient radio through the kitchen window, wheezing out a different song... And he can also hear the wind in the trees, all the various sounds of the forest settling around another day, the cracking of wood every now and then, the chatter of birds, the occasional dull thud of a falling pinecone.

If he closes his eyes, nothing has changed from when he was a kid, and nothing ever will.

His phone rings, because of course it does, of course he can’t get more than twenty minutes of rest, but he looks at it with a strange calm - his heart beats briefly faster, but then he decides not to answer, just for now, just this once. He only silences the ringing and pockets the phone, and allows himself to shrug, and Granny Wen’s inquisitive look turns into a pleased grin. She winks at him and motions for him to hand over his bowl of freshly cut peppers, which she proceeds to carry inside to be set aside for lunch.

Xichen closes his eyes and inhales, allowing himself to rest his back against the sun-warm wall behind him. Maybe like this, step by cautious step, he’ll get somewhere.

“Xichen! Come here! Hurry!”

His eyes fly open - that’s Wen Qing’s voice, and it sounds a bit strained, and that is the telltale crunch of car wheels coming to a halt in front of the lodge.

Xichen springs to his feet, and looks at his phone again just to make sure - A-Yao tried calling him literally a minute ago, surely he wouldn’t do that as he was driving over here, just to soften the blow so minutely... But then again, what can Xichen put past him, at this point?

“What?” he calls out, hurrying through the dining hall, and sounds tense himself, he realizes. “What is it?”

He sees the car from a mile off, parked next to his Jeep, and it’s... well, it’s not A-Yao’s car, that’s one thing.

“Wen Qing?” Xichen tries to locate her, “who is it? Who...”

But his own voice betrays him when he finally makes it onto the front porch, and sees.

He’s nine years old, trying very hard not to so much as sniff over a badly skinned knee, completely alone in the forest, until one of the kids dashing ahead returns for him, reaches out for him, holds his hand, helps him stand back up again. Holds his hand, in fact, the entire time he hobbles back to camp, and his grey eyes are speckled with the warmest gold every time he grins at Xichen and tells him everything is going to be alright.

He should probably keep going, make it out of the door and down the steps, but he’s frozen in place, too still, too quiet - he watches as Wen Qing greets the newcomer first, lets him envelop her in a bear hug that threatens to lift her off her feet, and Xichen can see her lips moving, she’s laughing, saying something he can’t hear, and then those same grey-gold eyes are searching around, until they find him.

“Mingjue,” he says, and it comes out nothing but a quiet exhale.

He’s... even taller than Xichen remembers him, broader, too, but then they haven’t seen each other in person in ages... Ages. He crosses the distance between them in just a few long strides, while Xichen himself barely manages to stumble off the stairs, and then Mingjue is in front of him, right here, right now, and his grin is the brightest, most amazing thing Xichen thinks he’s seen in a while, and his heart is threatening to burst.

“Xichen,” Mingjue smiles, and even his voice is different somehow, deeper and steadier, to go with the new lines in his face Xichen doesn’t remember seeing before.

“Hi... You’re- what. What are you doing here?”

It’s almost verbatim what he asked A-Yao when he first reappeared two days ago, but this time, Xichen doesn’t feel like he might fall apart any second now - there’s a warmth unfurling smack in the middle of his chest at the sight of his oldest friend, and it feels like comfort, like the first breath of relief in a while.

“Oh, you know,” Mingjue continues smiling, “I got a call.”

“A call...? I didn’t-”

“Da-Ge! You made it!”

Huaisang, who never moves any faster than a lazy walk, suddenly speeds into frame and all but launches himself at his older brother, who weathers it amiably, going with the flow and lifting Huaisang off his feet entirely effortlessly, with just one arm around him.

“Yeah, yeah, I made it, of course I did,” Mingjue guffaws, “you sneaky little whelp, you didn’t even tell Xichen, did you?”

“Tell me what? What is going on?”

“Right, uh,” Huaisang, back on his feet, has the courtesy to look at least a bit bashful, “I’m really sorry about this, but we were all kind of worried, so I called Da-Ge, and asked him... well, for advice, first, just advice, I swear!”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Mingjue ruffles his hair in a vaguely threatening manner, “he was practically begging me to come-”

“I was not! One mention of Lan- zong’s name and you were booking the next flight out-”

“Huaisang-”

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?!”

Pandemonium ensues, and Xichen starts losing all solid ground under his feet - all teams seem to pick the exact same moment to come back from their morning activities, which comes with the side of all the rest of the adults reuniting with Mingjue, some of them very loudly, and Xichen doesn’t have a chance to get a single word in.

Mingjue even recognizes Wei Wuxian, after all these years, because of course he does, you planning on bringing the campsite down for real this time?, and most of the older kids remember him in turn, and where the campsite was completely quiet just a few minutes ago, there’s laughter and chatter now, and Xichen is... well, confused, and curious, exhilarated , all at the same time, and he stands about two inches away from Mingjue the entire time, but it’s a distance that itches and burns with the need to be crossed.

No such luck, though - the kids and Huaisang stake a claim on Mingjue immediately, dragging him along on a very impromptu tour of the campsite, and Xichen only smiles and allows it, because what else is there to do? Mingjue is staying for lunch, that at least has become clear, so they’ll get their time.

“You look like shit, Xichen.”

...That time arrives a bit faster than Xichen had anticipated, Mingjue finding him in his office right when the general chaos before lunch reaches maximum, and Xichen scoffs at him, even though the sight of him in the doorway makes his heart stop.

“Thank you very much. You look like a million bucks, on the other hand.”

He’s not even exaggerating - Mingjue is toned and tan, crisp white v-neck on dark jeans, broader than Xichen ever remembers seeing him, all city and no forest. It suits him.

“Thanks. Can I come in?”

“What are you, a vampire? Of course you can come in.”

This, too, is apparently still easy - immediately, Mingjue looks like he’s always been here, like he never left, like he belongs, and joking around with him... It feels natural. Feels right.

The tiny attic room is almost too small for two people, always has been, and Mingjue stands toe to toe with Xichen, looking him up and down like he’s checking for cracks.

“Where is he?” he asks, as blunt as ever, and Xichen’s eyes dart away.

“Not... here,” he replies somewhat dumbly, “staying in a hotel in the city, I think. He’ll be back, but I don’t know when.”

“Hmm,” Mingjue hums, and it tickles the fine hairs on the back of Xichen’s neck, “Huaisang wasn’t kidding.”

“About?”

“Well, for one, it really didn’t take much for me to book a flight. All he had to do was tell me you were having a tough time.”

“Mingjue, I’m-”

“If you say fine, I’m outta here.”

Xichen opens his mouth to protest, but finds he can’t - even though Mingjue is still smiling, he’s absolutely serious, and he... Well, he knows, more so than anyone else. He knows, and he’s here, and Xichen doesn’t know how exactly he’s going to improve things, but he can already feel himself relaxing, so maybe that will be enough.

It must manifest as something else in his eyes, though, because Mingjue sighs, almost pained, and next thing he knows, Xichen is scooped up into a hug that threatens to crack and reassemble all of his ribs, in the best of ways.

He yelps in shock, but it’s just the two of them, really - he allows himself to relax, to acknowledge Mingjue’s warmth and the scent of the cologne he wears, heady but not overpowering, and last but not least, he also allows himself to go a little bit weak in the knees.

“I missed you,” Mingjue mumbles into his shoulder, and Xichen stops himself from responding with a pathetic little noise, hugging back tighter instead, before gently extricating himself, allowing some space between them.

“I missed you, too,” he says earnestly, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Can’t believe it myself, trust me,” Mingjue scowls, “but I’m glad I did it. Now, are you actually going to let me help you?”

There’s a moment, just a couple of seconds stretched out into a small eternity, where a tension forms between the two of them, there in that tiny room, the very same room they did all their years of work on Gusu together, Xichen’s hand on Mingjue’s arm, Mingjue holding him by the shoulders - Xichen is almost sure, however, that kissing him now would be a very stupid idea, so he just pats his impossible biceps and lets go, takes a step back, and smiles at him.

“I suppose so,” he says, and allows himself just a little bit of hope.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

Sixteen Years Old

They learn the news at the evening briefing, in a manner so tense even Wangji squirms uncomfortably in his seat - Uncle has Wei Ying tell everybody what happened, and Wangji can barely hear him through the deafening roar of blood in his ears, through the anger mingled with a howling desperation, warring for attention in his head.

“Yeah, so... It’s been fun,” Wei Ying is grinning like this is just another joke of his, like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t mean the end, “but I guess this is it.”

Not once does he look at Wangji.

“We’re all very sorry it had to come to this,” announces Jin Guangyao, and there’s a flash of bitterness, of anger, in Wei Ying’s face, before he nods and scowls almost apologetically, throwing up a peace sign - and before anyone else can say a thing, he just walks out, to a stunned, icy silence.

Wangji feels sick to his stomach. He feels sick to his stomach, but he doesn’t go after Wei Ying, doesn’t bolt out of his seat to follow him like he might have done in any other instance, because the anger he feels makes his blood run cold, the inability to understand who at paralyzes him.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” Uncle Qiren then speaks up, “that breaking the rules doesn’t only carry consequences for the children. Being a Counsellor at Gusu, senior or junior, comes with its own set of responsibilities, and expectations...”

Those words, Wangji doesn’t really register either - he faintly notes the expression on Xichen’s face, displeased with an undertone of confusion, and he knows it’s not only Wei Ying his brother is unhappy with, either, but everything else is inconsequential.

He sits through the usual briefing, spiced up with having to logistically work around being a Junior Counsellor short very soon, and he sits through Jin Guangyao’s lecture on how to handle communicating the change to the kids, he sits through it all... He sits through everything until he hears a muttered good riddance coming from... someone, and then he’s out of the door before he can help it, officially announcing he’s going to sleep, out of the door with everything but sleep on his mind.

He finds Wei Ying by the lake, doesn’t even have to search too hard, and by the time he reaches him, his anger has been redirected, molded into an aching, bitter beast that growls at the sight of Wei Wuxian skipping stones on the mirror-clear water like everything’s just fine.

“Wei Ying,” he says, barks, more like, surprising even himself with how sharp the words are, and Wei Wuxian actually flinches, before accosting him with a short glance and an empty grin.

“Hey, Lan Zhan. Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do, but never could, because it would be breaking the rules?”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji repeats, and it sounds tired this time - exhausted.

“This lake is perfect for a late night swim. Don’t you think? Come on, come with me.”

“It’s past curfew,” Wangji says, dumbly, plainly, like it explains anything. “You can’t-”

“Oh, what are they gonna do?” Wei Wuxian laughs, “kick me out a second time? Come on, don’t be a buzzkill.”

“I’m going to talk to Uncle, maybe I can convince him to see reason,” Wangji blurts out without really thinking about it, a low-humming panic settling in his gut, “maybe I can explain to him-”

“Explain what, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian laughs, and it’s a cold, brittle sound, “there’s no use. It doesn’t matter anymore. Leave it be, and come swim with me, huh?”

“I won’t,” Wangji says firmly, “leave it be. Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Days ago, when I asked you what you and Uncle talked about, why didn’t you tell me? We could have figured something out, we could have...”

“Could have what? Flipped off Lan Qiren, eloped, ran for the woods? I said leave it, Lan Zhan. if you won’t come with me, at least leave me alone.”

“No.”

“No?” Wei Wuxian repeats, an incredulous huff of laughter, getting to his feet, “what is this? Who exactly do you think you are, telling me what to do? Huh?”

The words sting, deeper and more painful than Wangji cares to admit, but his fury mellows the immediate suffering somewhat - he takes a decisive step forward, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t budge, only stares him down, coldly amused. Wangji realizes he doesn’t even recognize him at that moment, not really.

“You tell me,” he says steadily, dully, even though his heart is beating frantically at best, “who am I to you?”

This, Wei Ying clearly doesn’t expect - under the moonlight, his face shifts into a different grimace for a moment, to that of confusion with a hint of sadness, like he didn’t really expect Wangji to actually stick around long enough to deliver the really meaningful blows. His irritation gives way to a blank expression, and he sighs, not for show this time, and his gaze darts away.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, like a kid the teacher called on unexpectedly, unsure if he has the right answer, “I thought we were... Whatever. I thought you were my friend. I considered you a...”

He must hear Wangji’s heart tolling like a frightened bell in his chest, but the end of that sentence never comes. It never comes, and it never will, and Wangji steps even closer, unaware that there was any room left between them to begin with.

“I still am,” he offers, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes snap upward, to settle on him, and if even that simple statement is enough to surprise him, then they might be in even more trouble than previously anticipated.

I still am your friend, he wants to say, shout, remind him, even though you came back this year and I could barely recognize you. Even though I had to remind you every step of the way to slow down, to keep the rules, to behave, and even though it didn’t work.

I still am your friend, even though the thought of you packing your bags tomorrow morning and leaving everything we’ve been through behind, without so much as a by your leave, has me terrified.

I still am your friend, even though you never told me what changed, even though you never let me help you.

I still am.

It’s not enough, which Wangji recognizes the second before Wei Wuxian scoffs at him, half fondly, and turns away.

“Wei Ying,” he says, and his own voice sounds distant, unfamiliar to him, “what are you doing?”

“I’m undressing, Lan Zhan. What does it look like I’m doing?”

He’s not kidding - he pulls his hoodie off over his head, then his t-shirt, then goes about kicking off his shoes, all the while Wangji stands there stock still - he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but has the distant inkling that he wouldn’t find relief in either.

He could remind Wei Ying, for the hundredth time this year, that he’s breaking the rules, but he’s right - they can’t kick him out twice. He could... he could walk into that lake by his side, and see where that takes them, but he’s... He’s too stuck to do that. Too hung up on the idea of how this summer was supposed to go, versus how it’s actually unfolding, too keen on avoiding the realization that this really is it, this... this really is all of it.

“Wei Ying,” he exhales, almost pleading, and a very faint realization reminds him that the name never sounds the same twice - that he’s going to miss saying it out loud.

“Either come with me, or go, so they don’t catch you out past curfew.”

He’s standing before Wangji in nothing but his rumpled boxers, skinny and lanky, and the entire scene is so ridiculous from an outside point of view that Wangji almost feels embarrassed - would feel embarrassed, if it weren’t for the tears suddenly pushing through from somewhere deep and buried, a hot ache in his throat, impossible to fight.

Wei Wuxian is smiling his hollow, emotionless smile, nodding to himself like he’s confirming, this is what I expected of you after all, and Wangji turns away as he brushes past him, walks towards the pier.

“Don’t feel bad, Lan Zhan,” he says, “you’ve got your rules to follow, and I’ve got... this lake to jump into, I guess. Different roads and all that. You’re all better off without me, anyway. Just remember it’s nice to walk off the beaten path, every now and then. I’ll see you at the end of the pier!”

And with that, he breaks off into a run, bare feet thumping on old wood, and the silence between that, taking the leap, and the splash as he lands, seems to stretch forever.

Wangji doesn’t turn around to look, and walks away, step by pained, slow step, and only realizes he’s been clenching his fists when he reaches for the door to his cabin and his knuckles ache.

He stands in the quiet darkness of it, of his favorite little corner of the world, for god knows how long, and when the silence is finally broken by a roll of thunder in the distance, he knows for certain that his heart cracks alongside it.

There are certain things, certain outcomes, he’s become rather good at predicting - studying to be a lawyer equips one with a specific mindset, trains one to, simply put, see things coming, and deal with the fallout, whatever it might be. Carrying the mantle of Camp Leader in his free time, then, should complete that skillset, should make him even more capable of dealing with the inevitable and the unexpected, but currently, Xichen doesn’t feel solid in either of his roles.

It doesn’t help that the story continues unfolding before his eyes without a whole lot of input from him anywhere along the way - having Mingjue by his side again feels... Feels like winning, if briefly, but the nasty, tense reality of ending up having both him and A-Yao by his side, together again, follows immediately after.

Mingjue has never been above raising his voice, and it’s almost admirable, almost a relief, listening to him recounting all the things Xichen has barely ever been able to say to A-Yao out loud - almost admirable, almost a relief, until he realizes why he prefers not to say them out loud.

There are... facets, dark corners to Jin Guangyao’s personality, that he never let Xichen see until it was too late, parts of him Xichen would very much like to forget he ever saw, and they resurface now, as do edges to Mingjue’s anger he doesn’t like seeing either, and suddenly, Xichen finds himself standing in the middle, figuratively speaking and otherwise, and he doesn’t half enjoy the situation.

“Enough,” he says, surprises himself with how even, how calm his voice sounds, “that’s enough.”

He’s not speaking as Camp Leader, or as a lawyer, or as an ex-boyfriend - he’s the boy sitting at the doorstep of his childhood home, not ready to say goodbye to his teens, asking his friends for help, not even entertaining the idea of coming up short.

Hell, he’s even younger than that, eleven years old and exploring the forest by their side, sketching out maps and marking shortcuts only they know about... He leads them back there, back where their entire childhoods are waiting for them, memories stored in the scent of pines, the familiar hum of wind through their heavy branches high up above their heads... Xichen leads them there, seeks to remind them, if not why they’re here now, then how they’ve ended up here, and doesn’t think about coming up short this time, either.

“It’s nice that you think he still has a conscience to appeal to, Xichen,” Mingjue groans, and A-Yao laughs, dry and coarse as sandpaper.

“Says the guy who hasn’t been back in years,” he retorts.

Xichen tells them both to kindly shut up, and just listen for a moment.

Not to him, no - he exhausts his wealth of things to say, appeals to make, pretty soon - but to the rest. The aforementioned hissing of the wind in the trees, the occasional deep crack of wood straining, the conversations of birds and insects... The echoes of children laughing and shrieking during their games, far away but never too far, the forest floor generously accommodating their stomping.

They sit side by side, the three of them, on an old bench that barely accommodates them, Xichen in the middle for, well, safety reasons, and he has nothing more to offer, nothing more to ask of them, than time - time for them to realize what really matters. That this is... well, everything. This is where they grew up, where they fell in love, with Gusu, with each other, with bonfires and scavenger hunts and soccer and skinned knees, and if-

If Xichen is the only one who realizes that anymore, the only one who still considers that to mean something, if they can’t see it anymore, well then it’s too late, anyway.

He knows Jin Guangyao is watching him, but he doesn’t respond in kind - it’s impossible, at this point, to look in his eyes and not want to search for something that isn’t there anymore, so Xichen just doesn’t even attempt it. There are no apologies he can accept, no explanations he is capable of trusting, but there is this - the three of them back together again, if only for one extremely tense afternoon, and the bittersweetness of it all.

“You know,” Mingjue is the one to speak up next, against all odds, uncharacteristically calm himself now, “feels weird, after all this time. Doesn’t it? Feels like coming home, if home was just a picture on a postcard. Not a damn thing has changed around here, but still.”

“Spoken like a true poet,” Jin Guangyao rolls his eyes, and Mingjue attempts to punch him around Xichen, who intercepts, not capable of laughing about it, not quite, but smiling anyway.

“It’s still real,” he says, “to me. To all of us here.”

“I’m not trying to take that away,” A-Yao points out, and Mingjue huffs in derision and disbelief.

“Right. And I’m not trying to think of ways to push you in the lake. Listen to yourself, for once.”

They’re around twelve or thirteen, all three of them, and they see a fox with her cubs in the clearing past the waterfall, overseeing their games, letting the boys watch, too, for the longest time - nobody believes them when they come back, how friendly the animal was, how close she let them get, but they don’t really care. Xichen sketches her likeness into his notebook while A-Yao makes a note of the encounter in his own, and Mingjue goes off on a tangent about rabies or some such thing, and they’re late for lunch, and nobody believes them, and they couldn’t care less.

Nobody would believe Xichen now, were he to recount exactly what they did that afternoon, the way their conversation meandered, the way they... didn’t half come to a solution, as much as they managed not to hurt one another any more than was strictly necessary.

Nobody will believe him if he says that they really did just sit and talk, no coercion or desperate convincing or, or fisticuffs involved. There is a sadness that creeps onto his shoulders, weighs down on him, stale and tiring, but all the questions he means to ask, the why’s and the how’s, they don’t matter anymore.

There’s such a distance between him and A-Yao now that he doesn’t think they’ll ever bridge it again, or should attempt to - they might be sitting side by side on a rickety old bench, but Xichen feels like he’s only getting an echo of the man, the boy he used to know.

Mingjue’s hand is calm and steady on his knee, and Xichen thinks many times about reaching over and grabbing it, that distance miniscule, and asking to be crossed, but there’s just no time, no space. Never enough of either, it seems.

“No, yeah, I think they’re really just... talking.”

“What? That’s bullshit. Let me see.”

Their precarious perch shakes and rattles as Jingyi attempts to climb over to Zizhen’s spot, to see better - it was his astonishing idea to use the rope bridges to spy on everything going on below, and Sizhui is the one left to worry himself about a) being caught, and b) not even getting that far before one of his friends missteps and they all plummet to their untimely death.

As things stand right now, they’re all hanging like oversized gargoyles on the very end of this particular rope bridge, as far as it extends, and it still isn’t enough to place them even in the general vicinity of the earshot of the conversation they so desperately want to eavesdrop on. Lan- zong has led Jin-Gege and Nie Mingjue to sit on one of the ancient benches by the rocks, and the boys can only see them if one of them stands on the very topmost rope and dangles off it like a pirate atop a mast watching for dry land - Sizhui is dead certain that if anyone were to find them right now, they’d get expelled on the spot.

“Aw man,” Jingyi grumbles, “I was really expecting Nie Mingjue to start throwing punches or something.”

“Maybe they’re just waiting for an opportune moment to kill Jin-Gege and bury his body where no one can see,” Zizhen postulates, “nothing and no one but the bunny rabbits to witness it.”

“Or maybe,” Sizhui sighs, “they’re trying to solve this like adults, and no one’s getting killed or buried.”

“Well that’s just no fun,” Zizhen pouts.

“Since we’re not going to be accessories to murder any time soon, can we please go back now?” Sizhui says, “if we’re not back for lunch, someone’s gonna start asking questions.”

“We can always just say we lost track of time, looking for the next hot scavenger hunt breadcrumb,” Jingyi offers, but already he’s obediently climbing over and around Zizhen, both of them joining Sizhui in carefully making his way back towards camp.

“Yeah, because that excuse is going to work for a hundredth time.”

“Oh, holy shit, speak of the devil. Look, look, you guys.”

They almost collide with one another, with how abruptly Zizhen stops, the ropes swaying and bobbing under their feet - but it’s worth it for the sight of Nie Huaisang very inconspicuously making his way through the forest with... some direction in mind, a purpose to his stride they’re not used to seeing otherwise.

They come to a mutual wordless agreement to be as quiet as humanly possible, and remain unnoticed thanks to that - they’re granted the view of the younger Nie brother disappearing into the forest, not to follow his Da-Ge, as one might assume, but rather going off on a mission of his own, which can only mean one thing. The second they’re sure he’s out of earshot, the boys scramble to climb down from the trees, and dash towards the campsite, cramming themselves into one tent and pulling out their numerous notebooks and supplies. The scavenger hunt this year is definitely a joint effort, and this far into the summer, they’ve more than developed a system - they’ve perfected it.

Sizhui is in charge of cartography - he pulls out the frayed, half-torn but still meticulously maintained sheet of paper with the map, the entire resort drawn to the tiniest detail in different color markers, and the two huddle around him, their fingers following lines that are only comprehensible to them. Over these past three weeks, they’ve compiled a handy list of every single trophy that’s been found, each marked with a dot on the map, and they spend a lot of time not only cross-referencing those with the list Nie Huaisang has posted, but also using their position to try and guess, at least, at the location of others.

“There’s no reason for him to be in that part of the forest, I’m telling you,” Jingyi speaks with a wartime strategist’s determination, “we’ve had so many finds in that little area alone that it makes no sense for him to try and mess with anything there. Unless...”

“He never promised not to move things around, though, right?” Zizhen postulates.

“Well, that’s true. But then most of these damn things should be conceivably possible to find, and look at what’s left. It doesn’t help that some of our best trackers are leaving, like, tomorrow. Damn parents’ day.”

This is Jingyi’s part of the job - he’s frighteningly good at making the little kids do his bidding, and he’s built a veritable network of little scavengers, combing the resort and its surroundings like bloodhounds, reporting back to him and each other, all for the faint hope of a share of the eventual spoils. There’s not a lot of things left on Nie-Gege’s list, but still, many hunters will be pleading with their parents tomorrow to let them stay a little while longer, to see this through.

It’s a good thing, then, that only the younger or more fragile kids go home - if you were to ask Jingyi, Sizhui and Zizhen, it only spices up the competition.

“There’s no guarantee everything won’t be literally upside down after we come back from the canoe trip,” Sizhui offers.

“We need to make sure someone’s watching Nie-Gege’s every step while we’re gone,” Zizhen nods.

“Somebody will be,” Jingyi promises ominously.

Sizhui doesn’t know about them, but sometimes, he stops and realizes that he doesn’t, against all odds, want the scavenger hunt to be over - doesn’t want any of this to be over. It’s their last time, after all - six weeks always seems like a long damn time to spend in one place at first, but it always flies by, and Sizhui would really prefer it not to. After they return from the canoe trip, they’ll only have a little less than two weeks of Gusu left, and after that... It doesn’t bear thinking about.

It doesn’t bear thinking about, and so he doesn’t - he puts it off completely and concentrates on the map instead, marking Nie-Gege’s last known location in unassuming spring green.

Maybe if he just refuses to acknowledge the passage of time, nothing will change, and Gusu will be locked in a perfect summer forever.

Maybe.

Introspection is by no means his strong suit, but it’s interesting in a persistently gut-wrenching way, watching someone appear out of nowhere, and immediately belong - logically, Wei Wuxian should be overjoyed on everybody’s behalf that Nie Mingjue is back now, clearly dead-set on solving things, but, well, logic and him have never been very good friends to begin with.

Huaisang’s big brother is immensely fun to be around, and once it’s determined that he’s going to be sticking around until the weekend, he makes himself a permanent fixture at the camp, seamlessly so. He’s got the lumberjack aesthetic down pat, literally - watching him actually chop wood is quite the sight, not to mention all the instances where he can be seen carrying various heavy things, and it only gets wilder from there.

“You’re telling me you didn’t bring him around just to force a gay little realization on our illustrious leader?” Wei Wuxian comments, and Huiasang smirks an utterly telling smirk behind his ubiquitous fan - both of them are currently hiding in the shade watching the evening’s soccer game unfold, and where Wei Wuxian is trying his damnedest to cool off, having spent a very sweaty twenty minutes playing, Nie Huaisang looks a picture of perfect, calm innocence, even as his brother sprints after the ball completely shirtless, which is... for sure a vision.

“Well, you know,” he admits, “that might have been one of the reasons. An unintended side effect, if anyone ever asks you.”

“Uh-huh. You’re a menace.”

“Why thank you.”

It’s undeniable that whatever motivations Huaisang might have had, some of them are bearing fruit, if only in the shape of the smile on their Camp Leader’s face, less stiff now, more genuine. From what Wei Wuxian understands, things aren’t going to get solved overnight, of course, but there’s a general sense of... less despair, more hopefulness, around the entire Gusu issue these days. And while he was prepared to literally fistfight anything and anyone threatening the camp, Wei Wuxian must admit he’s... well, relieved, yes. Mostly relieved. Among other things.

Relieved, most of all, that it won’t be up to him to make a fool of himself.

This place isn’t going anywhere, not while any of us have anything to say about it. After all this time, are you kidding? Not gonna happen, I’m telling you. Not gonna let it.

As stated before, he doesn’t particularly feel like getting introspective, but right there, in the darkness of their cabin, Wei Wuxian might have been at his most honest yet for a hot second, and it kind of scares him. The sight of Lan Zhan, all cider-drunk and soft, that won’t be leaving him any time soon, which scares him, too, in a very different way, he supposes, but it really boils down to this - he hates being vulnerable, and Gusu has been forcing him to be just that, time and time again.

“What are you moping about this time?”

The elbow in his ribs succeeds at two things at the same time - stealing all air from Wei Wuxian’s lungs, and bringing his concentration back to the present moment, meaning his bratty little brother appearing next to him, offering affection the one way he knows how.

“I was thinking about something important,” Wei Wuxian shoots back smoothly, “but now I’ve got this to look at! You’ve cleaned up!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but also smooths down the front of his very crisp and clean and ironed Gusu blue t-shirt, “some of us know how to wear a damn uniform.”

“Uh-huh,” Wei Wuxian scoffs, tugging at his own unbuttoned collar, “I’ve got a reputation for being roguishly handsome and disheveled to uphold. All this for Shijie? She’s not gonna care about you looking neat when she sees that A-Ling hasn’t changed his shirt in a week, you know.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Jiang Cheng sputters, “there’s dozens of other parents we actually have to look presentable for, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Wei Wuxian hasn’t, although he kind of wishes he could - parents’ day is a big deal in more ways than one, and he didn’t realize he’d been dreading it until he actually woke up this morning with a vague pinch of nerves in his gut.

It’s downright jarring to have strangers interrupt what’s become more or less a smooth routine over these past weeks, parking their cars everywhere in between the cabins, trampling their neat walkways, peeking into the lodge... Simply put, not all kids get to stay all six weeks, usually the youngest ones, and what should be a smooth transition, usually takes up half a day, and serves to remind everyone of the worst enemy known to an immersive summer camp experience - the passage of time.

“Don’t think you get to skip out, either,” Jiang Cheng reminds him sharply, “she really wants to talk to you, so make the time.”

Wei Wuxian is not going to give him the satisfaction of revealing the real extent of the anxiety he feels about that prospect, so he does what he does best - punches his brother’s arm, tells him not to worry, and runs off to think.

...Which is easier said than done, of course, what with all the extra people - he remains in charge of the older kids, and is thus fortunately exempt from a lot of the logistics, from talking to all of these strangers, but he is wearing Gusu blue, and gets stopped far too many times on his way across the campsite. Their youngest are putting on a play for the parents under Mianmian’s leadership, so Wei Wuxian just points all of them in the direction of that, and scours the crowds for an unwitting victim, someone to snag away and talk to under the pretense of looking busy enough to be ignored...

“Sizhui! Do you, uh... need help with that?”

The sight of his favorite troublemaker comes in handy - the kid has his arms full of canoe paddles, of all things, far too many for any one person to be carrying on his own, and Wei Wuxian takes pity on him immediately and lightens his load, all for the chance to, again, appear too busy to be approached.

“Where the hell are you taking these? Did Uncle Four finally decide to burn them down?”

“Wei-Gege, thanks... No, he didn’t,” Sizhui huffs, “he wants to inspect all of them, all the equipment, before the trip tomorrow. I’m just helping out.”

“On parents’ day...?” Wei Wuxian starts that question before his brain has enough time to catch up with his mouth, before he realizes, right. No parents to speak of for this kid.

“Where are we taking these, then?” he opts for a truly smooth segue, and Sizhui doesn’t even comment, the polite little bugger - he just leads them to the shed by the lake, where there are fortunately absolutely no parents anywhere to be seen, but there is a very disgruntled Uncle Four, scribbling something into some sort of logbook and chewing his cigarette into a pulp.

“I see you’ve brought help,” he acknowledges Wei Wuxian’s presence, “good, you can both help me move these and make sure I don’t break my back.”

Grateful for the distraction, Wei Wuxian spends the next fifteen minutes hauling out canoe after canoe with Sizhui, turning the heavy boats this way and that, so Uncle Four may make his grumpy observations. It gives him enough time to try and brace himself for actually walking up to his family, and the opportunity to have a fun little chat with Sizhui, which is always a delight.

“Wait, you’re telling me- watch your feet, watch them, there we go... You’re telling me I could actually come watch you perform? In real life?”

“If you like,” Sizhui smiles, somehow succeeding at looking perfectly chill even as they turn yet another canoe belly up, “if you’re ever in Cayi Town. Lan-Gege has been to my recitals a couple of times. Jingyi and Zizhen, too.”

“No kidding,” Wei Wuxian says, a bit dazed - it’s surreal, talking about life away from Gusu, outside of this summer. A bit uncomfortable, too, if he’s being honest.

“Cayi Town, huh,” he muses, “that’s just down the hill, isn’t it.”

“So to speak,” Sizhui nods, “below the mountain range. We might be able to see it at some point on the canoe trip, if Lan-Gege takes us to this... There’s like a hill with a really nice vista close to one of the camps we’ll be staying at, you’ll see...”

Wei Wuxian lets him talk, as he’s currently preoccupied with the idea of... Cayi Town. Logically he knows there’s an actual world outside of Gusu, even though he’s been doing really good with forgetting about it up until this point. But it is, it’s there, and it’s waiting for him whether he likes it or not, and it’s waiting for Sizhui, with his good grades and violin recitals, and it’s waiting for Lan Zhan, too, apparently to visit said recitals, and go back to his university, and have a whole entire life away from this place, a life Wei Wuxian knows next to nothing about.

Less than three weeks before he has to leave this place and be faced with all that knowledge for real, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly a bit nauseous.

“...Wei-Gege? What do you think?”

Oh, right, there’s actual people around him, expecting his attention.

“Sorry, sorry, think about what?” he babbles, and plops down on the pier next to Sizhui and Uncle Four, the latter one on about his umpteenth cigarette, but looking a bit happier for all the work they’ve done - apparently all the canoes are in working condition, and they’ll actually be leaving. On them. Down a river. Tomorrow.

“You know! The Lotus Lake,” Sizhui, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice his momentary loss of concentration, or more likely chooses not to comment on it. “We’re going to find it this year, right?”

“There’s no way in hell,” Uncle Four cackles, “it’s a fairy tale, it doesn’t exist. I’ll bet you good money you’ll waste a lot of time and effort paddling places you shouldn’t go, and I won’t be the one getting you outta that mud.”

“No mud to speak of, because we’ll definitely find it,” Wei Wuxian declares firmly, to Sizhui’s endless glee, “Huaisang thinks he’s so damn smart, putting a damn lotus seed pod up on the scavenger hunt, but mark my words! Mark my words, I will get these kids their lotuses. Just watch me.”

That has both Sizhui and Uncle Four laughing, and Wei Wuxian laughs along with them, and doesn’t mention the lotuses he’s thinking about, the ones back in Yunmeng, the live ones and the ones in the paintings lining the walls of the place he used to call home-

“There you are! I told you to watch the time! Come on, they’re about to leave!”

The mood shift is jarring, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t look particularly murderous - only his usual level of prickly and huffy as he all but drags Wei Wuxian to his feet.

“I’m here, I’m here, hang on... Sizhui,” Wei Wuxian turns to the kid, “I’ll see you later? You’re going to be alright?”

The kid measures him with a calm intrigue no fifteen-year-old should be capable of displaying, but only briefly, before he smiles brightly.

“I’ll be just fine,” he nods, “please go talk to your family, since they’re actually here.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to respond, while Jiang Cheng next to him produces something that might very well be a huff of laughter.

“...Alright, damn, kid. Touche. See ya.”

For such an innocent little orphan face, Sizhui really knows the meaning of vicious, and now Wei Wuxian really doesn’t have a single excuse left to avoid...

“Ugh, are you kidding me? Did he have to come?”

“Behave,” Jiang Cheng doesn’t waste time slapping him upside the head before their sister or her unfortunately present husband can notice from afar. “You do realize he might actually be able to help.”

“Help? With what? I don’t need help-”

“Not you, dumbass. There’s no helping you.”

“Ouch, Jiang Cheng. Ouch. You wound me.”

“I’m sure. Anyway, surprising as it may seem, not everything is always about you - apparently A-Jie told him about the entire Jin Guangyao mess, and he’s taking an interest.”

“Taking an interest, huh,” Wei Wuxian mutters, scanning the crowd for an exit strategy, more frantically the closer they get to Yanli with Jin Zixuan and little Jin Ling, “didn’t he cut all ties with his father, what, years ago or something?”

“I don’t know, man. All I know is, he’s on our side, and Gusu needs all the help it can get.”

Their sister finally spots them then, and her face is an image of perfect happiness as she waves for them to hurry over, and as Wei Wuxian forces his heart not to rabbit out of his chest, he thinks he himself might need all the help he can get once this is over.

Wangji only witnesses it from afar at first, and only because Xichen and Nie Mingjue catch his eye, making their way through the crowd of adults and children with a singular determination - as he’s currently not occupied with this or that curious parent, Wangji follows them a bit to see where they’re going, and soon discovers not only Jiang Yanli with her husband picking up their son, but also the rest of the family, Wei Wuxian included.

He distantly remembers Xichen and Mingjue- xiong discussing something about Jin Zixuan becoming involved, but that’s not where his curiosity currently lies - he only has eyes for Wei Ying, radiant in his favorite itchy Gusu blue, smiling brighter than the sun, and so very uncomfortable.

He wonders if the others can see it too, the way he so evidently hangs on his sister’s every word, but would obviously much rather it were just the two of them, instead of a veritable gaggle of other people... The way he can’t stay still for a second, the way he’d much rather run away, but physically can’t bring himself to it, doesn’t have the option.

Wangji wants to find a way to help him, but before he can take one step closer, he’s intercepted, could you please show me the way to..., and when next he turns around, everything is, as it were, much much worse.

None of them particularly expected Jin Guangyao to show up today, of all days, but then again, they probably should have seen it coming, should have planned for the case... It doesn’t really matter now, though, because the outcome is probably exactly what the man aimed for - a lot of tense faces, and not enough time or space to diffuse the situation.

He stands there, short and unassuming, and yet still somehow managing to pull all attention to himself, and if it’s impossible to hear what he’s saying at this distance, then the impact of his words can still be clearly seen, in everyone’s glares.

Children and parents hurry in every which direction around them, completely ignorant of the slow-moving car crash unfolding nearby, and Wangji is focused solely on Wei Wuxian as he marches over there - he feels like he’s wading through the lake itself with all his clothes on, entirely too slow, too slow to make it there on time.

“-just saying, it’s kind of like our own little shareholders’ meeting. I like it. Lets me update all of you at once.”

“There will be no updating, not right now,” Nie Mingjue is the one to voice everybody’s scowled protests, “you sure know how to pick the least convenient time to show up, but that doesn’t mean we have to accommodate you.”

“On the contrary, it looks like I got really lucky, this time,” Jin Guangyao is all smiles, “my own family, coming out of the woodworks, who could have foreseen that. How’s business these days, Zixuan?”

“Good,” Jin Zixuan replies icily, “really good, in fact, now that I don’t have to worry about Dad taking credit for everything I do. I’d ask how that part of the deal is working out for you , but...”

“I’ll start loading A-Ling’s things into the car,” Jiang Yanli is perfectly in synch with her husband, it seems, “you take your time, but don’t miss the play. A-Xian, A-Cheng, help?”

“Actually,” Jin Guangyao says with a pleasant, razor-sharp smile, “this won’t take long at all, and I think all of you here need to hear it. I just came back from a lovely lunch date with none other than our once-Camp Leader, Lan Qiren.”

This hits Wangji just as much as it visibly hits Xichen, and they exchange a pained, confused glance - in what few calls they’ve managed to arrange with Uncle in these past couple of days, he never mentioned this was about to happen.

“You snake,” Nie Mingjue growls, and at that point, they all start noticing that their little gathering has begun attracting some attention - fortunately, the play from the kids for their parents is about to start, which means Jin Ling’s parents go and watch that, and Mingjue- xiong and Xichen succeed at relocating everybody else round the back of the building, not to be disturbed by anybody. A good thing, too, because the slew of accusations and arguments begins in earnest.

Wangji only faintly registers Wei Wuxian by his side, because he feels like he’s watching the whole thing unfold from behind soundproof glass - just people moving, gesturing, opening their mouths, but completely silent like a vintage movie. The anger in Nie Mingjue’s face has an almost animated quality to it, as does the confusion, almost shock , mingling with it in Xichen’s. Even after all this time, after everything he’s put him through, his brother has a difficult time looking at Jin Guangyao and not seeing the man he used to know - that, Wangji can sympathize with, but ultimately only help with to a certain degree...

Jiang Cheng appears no less furious than Nie Mingjue, and Wei Wuxian scoffs loudly at something Jin Guangyao says, but Wangji...

Wangji thinks of his nine-year-old self, of the Gusu that used to be, and of how none of them were ever allowed to go back here as children, even though Xichen and him enjoyed the privilege of being the Camp Leader’s nephews - these rules apply to everyone in equal measures, Uncle Qiren always used to say, and as a result, these forbidden parts of the campsite always seemed larger than life, mysterious, unattainable...

Until one grows up, and is allowed to freely walk where he couldn’t even peek before, and realizes that the wonderful mysteries a kid’s mind comes up with, are all just ordinary, a dressed up version of reality.

Maybe, he postulates, this is where it’s always been headed.

Maybe accepting the simple fact that time passes, and things change, and people leave and come back without no rhyme or reason, and that places like Gusu remain unchanged throughout the years, but you can never be fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years old ever again and return to that perfect vignette of them embedded in your memory... Maybe understanding that, learning to endure it, is what growing up is comprised of. Maybe Gusu, too, is not meant to be forever.

Wangji can’t say he’s particularly thrilled about that realization - certainly not thrilled to be arriving at it in the middle of a verbal scuffle he probably should be paying attention to.

“...All I’m saying is, I know how serious you are about running this place correctly, Xichen, and we did talk about this in the past - making sure that everyone is properly vetted, actually qualified to work with children. Your Uncle wasn’t particularly happy about the current state of the team, let’s just leave it at that.”

“And those are some concerns I’ve addressed with him before,” Xichen replies firmly, steadily, “I don’t see how that’s in any way relevant right now. Uncle is more than allowed to feel any way he pleases about my team, but that doesn’t change the fact he isn’t the one picking these people anymore, or watching them work.”

“Well, that’s true,” Jin Guangyao smiles sweetly, “but you know how the Association feels about that.”

“Association?” Wei Ying utters, standing close by Wangji’s side, arms crossed over his chest, “what association?”

“That would be the National Camp Association,” Wangji replies, and warning bells start going off in his head.

“What did you do?” Nie Mingjue voices his worries better than he ever could, and Jin Guangyao’s smile only broadens.

“Oh, they contacted me, since I spent so much time making inquiries, you see. They wanted to know why there’s suddenly such an uproar around a smallish camp in the middle of nowhere. I did my very best to set their minds at ease, but you know how it goes.”

“No,” Xichen says icily, “I don’t know how it goes. What exactly are you driving at? All our paperwork is up to code.”

“Well,” Jin Guangyao’s eyes settle on Wei Wuxian, of all people, “surely not all of it.”

The silence is deafening, and only punctuated by the echo of applause from inside the dining hall, parents cheering on their children’s performances.

“Huh,” Wei Ying comments, and Jiang Cheng adds, helpfully: “What?”

“Now, I understand that you must have been in a real hurry,” Jin Guangyao’s voice is sweet as molasses, “to hire this one on such short notice, but you know how those bureaucrats are. Absolutely meticulous about every single little thing. And the fees when something goes wrong, oh my.”

“What fees?” Wei Wuxian mumbles, his voice small.

“Is this a threat?” Nie Mingjue narrows his eyes, and at any other point in time, one might call him too quick to jump to conclusions, but...

“Come on, Da-Ge, quite the contrary,” Jin Guangyao beams, pleased with himself, “it’s more of a friendly warning, and an offer. I most of all would hate to see Gusu go down on a mere technicality, so if the time ever comes - and it might come, there’s still three weeks left, but I don’t have to remind you of that... If the time ever comes that you find yourself in hot water, legally or... otherwise, I will be more than happy to help.”

“You don’t get to-”

“And may I also suggest,” Jin Guangyao’s look sharpens briefly into something pointed and deadly when it lands on Wei Wuxian, “reconsidering if some people are worth the risk. Really now, I know that good old summer spirit rewrites a lot of memories into very good ones, but surely we’re not forgetting we once kicked you out for a reason-”

“We did the same with you.”

The words are so cold, so decisive, that Wangji doesn’t even realize at first that they came from him, or that his anger has made him step forward, like he’s gearing up for battle - the quiet Lan Zhan coming from Wei Ying barely registers over the deafening thrum of that slow-cooking frustration finally coming to a boil.

A year ago, he could barely support Xichen before it was all over, watched from the sidelines as all the glimpses of something going stale and wrong and rotten between his brother and one of his oldest friends slowly coalesced into the inevitable outcome...

Five years ago, he said nothing, did nothing, while Wei Wuxian was judged for his transgressions, and then carted off over the course of about one day, to disappear from him forever, and up until this very point, he’d never connected those two incidents - the feeling of helplessness, the inability to step past some sort of reservation inside of him, something preventing him from breaking... whatever he thought the rules were at the time.

None of it is there anymore.

And Wei Wuxian is looking at him like he realizes it too, and like he can’t quite believe it.

It’s you, Wangji wants to tell him, reassure him. Your words, all this time. Running off that pier, walking off that beaten path. Never could do it myself, when you weren’t by my side.

But he can’t say any of those things, not if he wants to avoid making a massive fool of himself, so he just offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and tears Jin Guangyao a new one.

Seventeen Years Old

The silence starts getting to him at the end of day two - the first one is too busy, what with arrivals, and getting everything and everybody ready and settled in,  but after that, after Wangji does everything that needs doing, after he makes sure for the hundredth thousandth time that Xichen is alright, after he writes himself lists upon lists upon lists of tasks, after he helps out with all the activities... He’s sitting on his bed, his guitar in his lap, his fingers hovering over its strings, incapable of producing a single note, and he’s suddenly very, very alone.

The empty spaces Wei Ying used to occupy, be it physically around him, or in his head, ache now with his absence, and Wangji doesn’t-

He doesn’t know how he ever thought it would be any different.

He spent the year slowly getting over the last summer, slowly accepting the fact that casually texting with Wei Ying, casually replying to his postcards, casually trying to find out through any means necessary if he’s okay, where is he, how is he doing-

All of that was out of the question, and he genuinely did think he was going to be alright.

All that was, obviously, before he came back here.

Everything is different this year, in so many drastic ways - Xichen is Camp Leader, Uncle is not, and every single associated worry is written well in everyone’s faces, no matter how much they’d like to appear otherwise.

Even his guitar sounds different, and he only ekes out the very first notes of his song, before his hands refuse to cooperate.

He sits by the campfire that night, by his brother’s side, and he’s almost sure he’s strumming the right chords, but his mind is elsewhere, and his heart skips town alongside it.

Jiang Cheng might be expecting him to say something, to ask after Wei Wuxian, Wangji recognizes it in his occasional glare, but he’s not in the mood for baring his soul to him, of all people, so he doesn’t. Ask, that is. And it hurts.

He didn’t think... He’s always known Gusu is his home, his entire life, but he never realized just how big a part of it Wei Ying was, not until he was gone. He sees him in every child that barrels through the campsite laughing at the top of his lungs, sees him in every skinned knee and twisted ankle during soccer, every tween daredevil who would be breaking the rules, by Uncle Qiren’s standards, but is sent away with a reprimand under Xichen’s rule.

Sees him... hears him, in the little girl who brings a harmonica, coaxing jarring, half-broken notes out of it, marking perhaps the first time Wangji doesn’t offer an explanation as to why, and simply turns and walks away from these children.

Sees him sitting there, at the edge of the pier, dipping his toes in the lake, talking about different roads and all that, and walking off the beaten path, and-

Contrary to what a certain half-mad part of his mind suggests, Wangji doesn’t break off into a run and cannonball into the lake, at any point that summer. What he does do, is sit at the very same edge of that pier, on many a night after curfew, and think about the sunshine smile of a boy he might never see again.

And about how, if he were ever to see him again, if he did get the chance to make the decision again, run after him into the water or turn away, act like it doesn’t matter or tell him exactly how horrible, terrifying, miserable it feels to have to let him go, he wouldn’t have a hard time choosing.

There are much fewer rules to break, this time around, he writes onto the back of a postcard he never sends, kitschy Gusu mountain ranges in bloom, I’m sure you would do just fine. Come back soon.

Chapter Text

“So you’re saying everybody survived.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Nothing worse than a bunch of scabbed knees and ticks.”

“Yeah!”

“You didn’t have to call an ambulance into the middle of the wilderness for a kid or two.”

“What- no! I’m telling you, it went fine!”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m suspicious,” Wen Qing squints, and Wei Wuxian squirms uncomfortably, watching her check the contents of the family-sized first aid kit she sent on the trip with them.

“This,” she jabs her finger into the bag, “is suspiciously full.”

“I’m telling you, we had a great time,” Wei Wuxian sighs, “nobody broke anything, nobody drowned, we barely used a couple of bandaids. It was fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” she declares, “if I find out a kid contracted cholera from drinking some murky lake water-”

“Hey, hey, just because we found the Lotus Lake, doesn’t mean we drank it dry,” he cackles, “we’re all in one piece, aren’t we.”

That might be true, broadly speaking - all the kids appear relatively unharmed (she’s checked, three times over), just tired and still a bit damp, and wonder of wonders, they managed to come back on time and not lose a single paddle, barrel or vest, but...

Her intuition has never failed her before - something isn’t as it should be. Something’s shifted.

For the rest of that day, she only observes - in the oldest kids’ absence, not to mention Wei Wuxian’s absence, the campsite had become almost eerily quiet, housing only a veritable handful of younger children and those of the adults who didn’t opt for a personal day away or go canoeing, and the renewed hubbub is as charming as it is exhausting.

The peace they were allowed for that one week, Wen Qing helping Mianmian take care of the kids every day, her brother by her side, as Huaisang and Jiang Cheng took a trip to the city, and Xichen... sulked in the attic, was amazing, and it has now effectively come to an end, but she doesn’t even mind it, not really.

Jin Guangyao’s impromptu visit last weekend, and Nie Mingjue’s subsequent departure consisting of basically dragging him out by the collar, left a bitter aftertaste with everyone - and while Wei Wuxian and Wangji were allowed the luxury of forgetting about it, hopping on a canoe and paddling away into the sunset, everyone else stayed, and... wondered, mostly.

She’s tried, god help her she’s tried, knocking on Xichen’s door - sometimes not even that, simply just walking in when she thought it appropriate - and coaxing him out of his favorite hidey-hole, but to no avail, mostly. She thought Nie Mingjue, the sight for sore eyes he was, would somehow magically make everything better, but the reality has been a bit different, because isn’t it always? She doesn’t think he’s actually going to, in Huaisang’s words, sue the skin off Jin Guangyao over Gusu, because that’s another thing that rarely works out in real life, but she has some faith in him still - maybe when he returns, victorious or whatever, he’ll finally have enough wherewithal about him to do away with all the unfinished business he’s left here, and kiss Xichen senseless, or something.

She is, as it turns out, just exhausted of bearing witness to lovesickness - things that could be solved by simple communication taking on a life of their own, leaving two people miserable for no good reason...

Oh that’s what’s been bugging her. That’s it.

That’s what she’s been looking it at, she realizes - and realizes it out of the blue that evening, sitting in the suddenly overcrowded main lodge after curfew, listening to Wei Wuxian’s wild account of their canoe-adjacent adventures, more flowery and exciting with each new swig of beer.

Apparently they really did have a grand old time, did climb the vista halfway down the mountains, did find the damn lake, did manage to keep like ten kids out of harm’s way for five days, but...

“-and then Lan Zhan really showed them what proper guitar playing looks like. Tell ‘em, Lan Zhan!”

All eyes turn to Wangji, Wen Qing’s a bit earlier than the rest, and that’s when she sees it - he’s all but glaring at Wei Wuxian, nothing out of the ordinary there, but she’s long since learned to see through that resting bitchface, and far, far beyond it.

Wangji is miserable, the discomfort obvious in his every move, even just the way he sits, now that she’s really concentrating on it, and Wen Qing thinks she can make an educated doctor’s guess as to the cause of it.

“The man offered me his guitar,” he says plainly, coolly, “And if I remember correctly, it was you who took it off him.”

“Well yeah! Couldn’t let you go the entire trip without playing,” Wei Wuxian is beaming, in direct contrast to the storm cloud slowly forming itself around Wangji’s head, invisible to almost everyone, and Wen Qing thinks she can hear the rumble of thunder and crackle of lightning when Wei Wuxian slides into space next to him, bumping their shoulders together.

“Pretty sure that was the sole reason the guy told us about the lake later,” Wei Wuxian laughs, and Wangji’s face goes on about a three-second journey of swallowing some displeasure, like even sitting next to him is painful, before it’s back to its usual impenetrable calm, and he shrugs.

“Probably. Excuse me.”

And before Wei Wuxian can pester him any more, he slides off the bench on the other end, leaving him wavering in the sudden absence of a shoulder to lean on, and walks away - this time it’s only to get a drink of his own (a glass of water, mind you), but the night doesn’t have to progress long for Wen Qing to register he seems to just be walking away from Wei Wuxian in general, leaving him hanging on conversation after conversation, until he just up and announces he’s going to bed, and wait, that’s when she really sees it.

Not in Wangji’s face, but in Wei Wuxian’s.

For one moment out of time, his smile fades, the spark in his eyes shows itself for the faint flicker it really is, and he looks after Wangji walking out the door like he’s forcibly pulling at a piece of Wei Wuxian’s own heart in the process, dragging it with him.

Like there’s a wealth of things, perhaps revealed, perhaps left to fester, between them, that only five days on the water with nothing but the trees and stars for company could have brought to the surface.

And oh, Wen Qing hates watching lovesickness.

“Alright,” she elbows Wei Wuxian in the side the second he sits down in between her and Mianmian with another beer, clearly determined not to let it be his last one that night, “now you’re going to tell me what the hell actually happened on that trip.”

Her glare is powerful enough to quell any and all rising protests or attempts at laughing it off and redirecting, and she can hold it long enough for Wei Wuxian’s grin, I don’t know what you mean, to disappear, and be replaced with... something almost like panic, brief but no less real.

And when that’s replaced with just plain old sadness, no matter how short-lived, Wen Qing knows she’s struck gold.

It starts out innocuously enough - the world doesn’t, against all odds, implode in on itself, nobody tells Wei Wuxian to pack his bags and tosses him out the campsite confines to fend for himself, as incredible as that might be. You belong here, you know, Yanli tells him right before they’re, yet again, interrupted, and for that one second out of time, he almost believes her. Until, of course, things take a different turn.

He doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter in his life than Lan Zhan telling Jin Guangyao in his face exactly what he thinks of him, somehow also managing to stand by Wei Wuxian’s very side while he was at it, in the most understated display of genuine affection he... still doesn’t think he half deserves, but can’t stop thinking about either.

Jin Guangyao leaves, not because Lan Zhan yells him into submission or anything quite as dramatic, but because affection also shows itself in the way Nie Mingjue steps up, bless his big gentle beefcake heart, to protect what he cares about - Wei Wuxian doesn’t know if anyone else can see it, is even watching for it, but the quick exchange of glances between him and Xichen speaks volumes.

A whole entire conversation without words, and Wei Wuxian wishes the thought ‘oh, just like me and Lan Zhan’ didn’t disturb him quite as much.

So, yeah - while he doesn’t think Nie Mingjue will drive Jin Guangyao off a cliff or something, at least he takes him away, and Gusu breathes to see another day, which, of course, means the day.

He barely has time to thank Lan Zhan, Xichen barely has time to go over the supposedly incomplete paperwork - the general idea being just hop on the damn canoes, we’ll talk about this later - and it’s anchors aweigh. The show must go on, and all that. The kids have been looking forward to this all summer, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t think it prompt to inform anyone that he hasn’t touched a paddle in years, and thus doesn’t, in fact, know how to steer a boat...

Turns out, it doesn’t really matter - Lan Zhan lays out the ground rules clearly and decisively like he knows the kids aren’t really the ones who need to hear them most, and Sizhui and the others take great pleasure in quizzing Wei Wuxian on every possible term out of that stupid canoeing lingo they can think of, on their ride from Gusu to their starting point somewhere downstream.

Driving away from the campsite, even if it’s for a trip, still somehow feels distinctly uncomfortable, but, Wei Wuxian tells himself, there’s still three weeks to go, including this trip. Or, well, maybe just one, if he manages to drown himself.

“Remember, everyone,” Lan Zhan announces, all of them now decked out in the bright fluorescent yellows and oranges of their safety vests, “my boat is always in the front, unless decided otherwise. There’s no rush, and we always wait for one another. If you’re lagging, or see someone lagging, you signal forward.”

“If you see Lan-Gege pushing me off the boat, you don’t signal, I probably had it coming,” Wei Wuxian sees fit to add, earning him earnest laughter and, unless he’s horrifically mistaken, the barest hint of a smirk from Lan Zhan himself.

“Right. There’s not a lot of rapids on today’s route, but they will come. What’s the first thing to do when you capsize?”

“Pray to your maker,” Wei Wuxian mutters, not quietly enough to escape the kids’ notice.

“Jingyi,” Lan Zhan announces, but unless it’s just a trick of the light, he does look amused.

“Move out of the way,” Jingyi offers uncharacteristically solemnly, “keep a hand on your paddle and your boat, signal forward, uhh... make sure your barrel doesn’t float away... Pray to your maker...”

“Correct,” Lan Zhan does smile then, doing a good job of ignoring Wei Wuxian’s exaggerated thumbs up, “alright, everyone, time to go. Double-check your barrels, and let’s go. Only twenty li today, we’ll be there in no time.”

“Only a lousy twenty li!” Wei Wuxian, who has no idea how much distance a canoe can plausibly cover in a day, declares dramatically, “what is this, kindergarten? Canoe kindergarten?”

“On second thought, if you see me pushing Wei-Gege off the boat, you’re allowed to clap,” Lan Zhan announces perfectly deadpan, and the kids’ laughter is almost as delighted as Wei Wuxian’s.

“Lan Zhan, you made a joke! I know you did, I heard it! Come back here!”

So that’s how they start out - laughing, casual, happy. There’s six canoes altogether, and even Wei Wuxian, casual about safety and rules as he usually appears, is almost worried about keeping everyone in one piece, but to no avail. The kids are, as it turns out, leagues better at this than he is, taking to the river like... well, like fish to water, navigating their boats with an effortless ease, soon hooting and hollering at each other.

It’s just them on the river, having started out from an old rest stop in the middle of nowhere that Uncle Four drove them all to in his rickety old van, and it’ll stay that way for most of the trip - there’s some riverside camps along their way, but they won’t linger in those much. They’ve got tents and sleeping bags and food supplies, all thoroughly waterproofed of course, and they’ve got a map that clearly indicates where they can and should stop, and above all, they’ve got Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian only wishes he were able to turn around from his position on the bow of the boat more often without it being weird, and watch him - he sits ramrod straight in the stern, firm but not rigid, and he’s so elegant with his... his paddling, and his gentle instructions, and the ease that exudes off him, like he was born on the river, like he’s always belonged there, is so fascinating to watch.

“Wait, so you’re telling me there’s hidden rocks down there?”

“Yes, many of them. Just watch the river closely. Even the biggest ones - usually the biggest ones - can look like nothing more than a gentle wave-”

“A rockopotamus!” Jingyi announces, Sizhui in the stern of their canoe remembering not to go too fast, but still keeping their boats almost side by side.

“A what?” Wei Wuxian cackles.

“Just this huge rock hiding under the surface that you never know is there until your canoe gets stuck atop it. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” Wei Wuxian sweats, suddenly interested in triple-checking every single wave creasing the water before them, “you know how to deal with those, right, Lan Zhan?”

“Actually, that’s your job, Wei Ying,” the smile is audible in Lan Zhan’s voice, “you have to tell me where they are, so I can navigate around them. Have you forgotten everything?”

“Hey, it’s been years,” Wei Wuxian pouts, “and it’s not like we ever really went anywhere further than the lake back at Gusu, in our time! I mean, it’s cool that we’re doing this now, but I’m serious, Lan Zhan, I can’t tell which of the waves is just a wave, and which one is a rockosaurus-”

“Rockopotamus.”

“Potamus, yeah, that. Look, maybe you should be in the front, eh? Maybe you should be the one watching out for big deadly rocks waiting to rip us apart-”

One such rock chooses that exact moment to brush at the underside of their boat, a dull scrape that feels like a ghost hand reaching up from the depths and physically slowing their canoe down, and despite himself, Wei Wuxian yelps, and almost drops his paddle, much to the amusement of the kids behind them.

“Fuck! I didn’t even see that one!”

“Thanks for the heads up, Wei-Gege!” Jingyi hollers, “also, swear jar!”

“We don’t have that on the water!” Wei Wuxian calls back, slightly tense, but all that dissipates when he hears Lan Zhan laughing - soft, quiet, beautiful laughter, which is nevertheless directed at him.

“You’ll do just fine, Wei Ying. Just keep your eyes peeled.”

“Easier said than done, Lan Zhan. If I do drown, I’ll haunt your ass.”

“I can live with that.”

Wei Wuxian huffs in dramatic indignation, turning around to glare at Lan Zhan, which rocks the boat to an uncomfortable degree, but he doesn’t care, not when he sees the spark in Lan Zhan’s eyes, the amusement.

“You’re supposed to say you won’t let that happen. Do not let me drown, Lan Zhan.”

“Of course I won’t let that happen. Now sit up straight.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Wei Wuxian scowls, but complies anyway. If he’s sitting facing forward, he muses, at least Lan Zhan won’t be able to see him blush at every little thing he says - a very new development, and one that he wants to dissect for himself first, anyway.

Twenty li, as it turns out, is... kind of manageable. They don’t take nearly enough breaks for his tastes, but he soon learns it’s not really necessary - once he gets the hang of it (which mostly means listening to Lan Zhan telling him when to paddle and when to refrain from it), Wei Wuxian has the time to watch their surroundings, and that proves a delight all of its own.

The riverbed snakes through a forest that, as far as he knows, is just more of the same forest that surrounds Gusu itself, and so the currents remain relatively calm - the occasional fallen tree juts out of the water like a twisted claw, ancient and bleached by the passage of time and the river alike, and they see... They see everything, from deer grazing in the woods, completely unused to humans ogling them from afar, to colorful little birds zipping past them, the names of which Lan Zhan quizzes the kids on. Every now and then, a dragonfly lands on someone’s boat, or they spot a school of fish swimming by and checking out the oversized competition, and other than the kids’ laughter and chatter, it’s completely quiet, peaceful, and amazing.

The rapids will, apparently, actually come at some point, when the river carries them closer to the mountains later on, but that’s for tomorrow’s Wei Wuxian to worry about - today’s Wei Wuxian lets his bare feet dangle off the side of the boat on a particularly peaceful stretch of water, and leans back until he’s laying on the barrel fastened in place between Lan Zhan and him, stretching his back like a cat, craning his neck until Lan Zhan’s upside-down face comes into view. It’s difficult, at this angle, to tell if he’s smiling or not, so Wei Wuxian elects to believe he just might be, and grins at him.

“You know, Lan Zhan, you make a pretty good ship captain. This is fun.”

“I’m glad you think so. You make a... passable boat mate, so far.”

“Passable!” Wei Wuxian huffs, “excuse you, I am a natural. The oar and I are one!”

“I seem to remember you using that exact phrase when we were, what...? Fourteen? Right before you somehow managed to stand up in your boat, slip, half drown and crawl into my boat, almost capsizing us both, all in the span of about thirty seconds.”

Among his laughter, Wei Wuxian can’t help but make a silent observation - it isn’t just his mind playing tricks on him, Lan Zhan is more talkative than usual. Way more. It’s intriguing, to say the least.

“Oh my god, you’re right, I almost forgot! Lan Qiren was livid. You were supposed to paddle us back to shore, but I seem to remember it took us a good long while.”

At that, Lan Zhan only smirks - clear even from Wei Wuxian’s contorted point of view - and on they go.

There’s no knowing if it’s the same for Lan Zhan, but Wei Wuxian himself has been... recalling, remembering little snippets like these from their past, with increasing intensity, all summer long. They’re not unwelcome per se, quite the opposite in many cases, but sometimes he’s struck with the intense inevitability of it - that this is where a large portion of his life has been, all this time, and that somehow, at some point during these weeks, something inside him has shifted and settled, and he now knows that just leaving it behind again, as a nice one-off experience, will be much more difficult than he could have envisioned.

That, too, he feels like he wants to tell Lan Zhan, but that, too, will take time.

That evening, they camp virtually in the middle of nowhere - this is just another rest stop that probably used to be busy once upon a time, an old totem pole of some sort next to a crude board with a fading map of their surroundings, and a fire pit that’s more of a scorched patch of ground circled by large mismatched rocks, but for that one night, it’s theirs. The kids erect their tents in record time, and elect to completely disregard the fact that they managed to get this far without getting soaked the second Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian give the signal - the river is suddenly alive with the general chaos of ten teenagers splashing each other and trying to ruin their hard day’s work by drowning each other after all, and while Wei Wuxian makes sure that doesn’t, in fact, happen, Lan Zhan goes off in search of a good enough reception to call his brother with the first successful update.

Getting a fire going is only a matter of organizing a wood search party, and before they know it, the cozy image is complete, the flames providing a warm orange glow, comfortable and soft enough to make even the image of a dozen kids learning to operate their portable gas burners charming.

Instant noodles a-bubbling, the night warm and the stars beginning to peek out, they huddle around the fire, all feeling the same mixture of excitement, at being this far away from what they’ve known all summer, on their own in the middle of nowhere, and a strange sort of homesickness, at that very same prospect.

The only musical instruments they’ve brought are Zizhen’s ukulele, assigned its own dry bag as well as about half a dozen plastic ones just to make sure it survives, and Wei Wuxian’s harmonica subjected to much the same - they play a bunch of their favorites, sounding somehow comforting and altogether different and more exciting at the same time, this far from home, before someone suggests they might not want to disturb the wildlife too much, and the music is relegated to a backdrop for a plethora of scary, exciting or just plain ridiculous stories that immediately begin circulating.

“Alright everyone,” Wei Wuxian isn’t too happy to announce just when spooky stories start giving way to some proper juicy gossip, “as much as I’d like all of us to outvote Lan-Gege and say bedtime is never-”

A veritable forest of hands immediately shoots up, much to everyone’s amusement.

“-We do have a long trip ahead of us tomorrow, and people tell me you do not want to do rapids half asleep. So go on, off you go. Into your tents, into your sleeping bags. Nighttime bathroom breaks are to be taken decidedly away from said tents, though! We wake up at nine-”

“Eight,” Lan Zhan corrects him.

“Eight thirty, and that’s final! Go-od night! Just kidding, it’s actually eight. Off you go!”

Lan Zhan and him remain seated by the fire as the kids scuttle off - they’re going to have to make sure it goes out, for one, and then of course there’s the period of about thirty minutes wherein the kids discover that everything that’s said can also be heard, when it’s just some flimsy layers of tent fabric separating you.

Having built their tent a little ways away from the others, and finally satisfied with the silence finally reigning after about an hour of poorly concealed whispering, Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian crawl into their sleeping bags at long last - or the approximation thereof, anyway.

“You’re going to get cold,” Lan Zhan comments, barely above a whisper, the look of silent judgment clear in his face even in the dim glow of Wei Wuxian’s shitty flashlight.

“Lan Zhan, it’s scorching hot,” Wei Wuxian pouts, kicking his sleeping bag into even more of a twisted pile around his bare legs - he can’t fathom sleeping in one more layer than his boxers, and that sure seems to be having some sort of effect here.

“Aw, don’t worry,” he winks at Lan Zhan, “I swear I won’t come crawling into your sleeping bag if I do get cold. Unless of course you’re offering-”

“Shut up,” Lan Zhan retorts, but there’s no real anger behind it, not even a hint of frustration, really. “Just go to sleep.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Wei Wuxian sniggers, “but you know, these are very cramped quarters and if I do end up rolling over to your side, please don’t hold it against me- Ouch! Hey!”

Lan Zhan kicks him, very precisely and very sharply, and Wei Wuxian bursts into laughter, attempting to retaliate.

“Quiet, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan orders him, “go to sleep.”

There are no victors in their little scuffle, and Wei Wuxian finally shuts the flashlight off, plunging their tiny shared sleeping space into darkness, perfectly aware just how close their faces are, perfectly aware that he doesn’t need to see it to know that the smile is there on Lan Zhan’s face, clear as day.

Oh, this is going to be real interesting.

As far as quiet descents into despair go, this one’s progressing almost amiably. Against all odds - and there are a lot of those - they manage to actually leave for the trip, and though he feels some measure of guilt about it, Wangji relaxes more and more the further away from Gusu the river carries them.

In fact, he’s been feeling more at ease ever since he laid into Jin Guangyao, there, in front of everyone, in a manner so unlike him that he’s now only about half sure it actually happened - letting the man know in no uncertain terms that he’d had his chance to convince them he actually cared about Gusu, and failed at that a dozen times over, was only natural, and it’s not like he expected the words to have any real impact either, no. He just really needed to say them, and the look in Wei Wuxian’s eyes afterward was enough to convince him that it had all been worth it.

...The look in Wei Wuxian’s eyes now convinces him he might have severely miscalculated regarding his own ability to survive this trip unscathed.

“Lan Zhan, I’ll take care of the boat, you can go for a dip too, the water’s great!”

This, Wei Ying declares as he wipes wet hair from his face, having just crawled back into said boat from his impromptu dip in these particularly calm waters - a well-deserved one, they’ve agreed, after the day’s hard work. The rapids that didn’t bother them the first day, have been teaching them a lesson all day today, and the kids - and Wei Ying, after he became more sure of himself - went into it absolutely excited for the thrill of faster water, and that good mood has fortunately lasted them all day long, and they’ve managed to avoid capsizing just yet...

But the sun has been scorching them for hours now, and they’ve barely stopped for a break aside from lunch, and so now, when the river has finally settled down into a calm, almost languid flow, the kids - and, yet again, Wei Ying - wasted no time and dove in one by one, taking turns watching their little caravan of canoes slowly drifting downstream.

“I’m good,” Wangji replies, decidedly not staring at Wei Ying’s bare back, tendrils of river water still trickling from his hair down the expanse of his shoulder blades.

“Suit yourself. We should be landing soon anyway, right? I’m starving. And I want a look at that map, Lan Zhan, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Lotus Lake!” Jingyi hollers, shamelessly guiding his and all the adjacent canoes to ram into Wangji’s, and Wei Wuxian only grins, throwing him a thumbs up.

“You know it, kiddo. We’re finding the damn thing if it kills us.”

“The camp is coming up,” Wangji sighs, confirming Wei Ying’s previous question, “and I will let you look at the map, but don’t expect any miracles. Contrary to popular belief-” he shoots a sharp glance at Jingyi, which only serves to make the boy grin wide, “ all the lakes in these woods are accounted for, and properly cartographed.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Wei Wuxian says and throws himself over the barrel in between them in his favorite position to lounge it seems, like a cat stretching its back - the unfortunate side effect of that, aside from Wangji’s heart skipping a tiny little beat at the very sight of it, is him getting positively drenched by the water splashing off Wei Wuxian’s hair, which he comments on with a surprised yelp.

“Shoot, sorry, Lan Zhan-”

But before Wei Ying can finish his half-baked apology, Wangji uses the flat side of his paddle to send a perfectly aimed splash of water his way, drenching him from head to toe and surprising him so much he almost rolls off the boat right back into the river.

“Lan Zhan! How dare you!”

“You were just in the water,” Wangji shrugs innocently.

“You-” Wei Wuxian huffs, half indignation, half amusement, and attempts to retaliate, but miscalculates his angle epically, hitting Jingyi instead.

“Hey, Wei-Gege, what gives?!”

That devolves into a full-on splashing war, and by the time they actually do land some time later, they’re soaked to the bone, laughing, and pleasantly exhausted.

This campsite has actual people in it, just a handful, but they still cast their loud group many a side-glance, ranging from somewhat exasperated, to downright fond. It wouldn’t be the kids - and, once again, Wei Ying - if they didn’t manage to make friends with complete strangers seemingly in no time flat, though, and the fire they start and the songs they sing that night have a somewhat larger audience. A group of some very old, no doubt very experienced boaters joins them, bringing their instruments, and Wangji not only eyes their guitars with a strange sense of longing, but also, quite inevitably, steals glances at Wei Wuxian with that very same sentiment.

It wouldn’t do to get jealous of a bunch of seventy-year-olds who probably use their instruments in place of paddles, and Wangji is about to call bedtime and retire early himself, to avoid that very thing happening, when Wei Wuxian works his charms on one of those very grandpas, and before Wangji knows it, there’s an unfamiliar guitar in his lap, and a beaming Wei Ying sitting by his side.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, look, let’s play something together!” he’s grinning, and Wangji’s fingers automatically ghost over the strings and the frets, before he stops himself, searching for the owner of the instrument.

“I don’t... May I?”

“Well, sure, go on, kiddo,” the man, an owner not only of the guitar, but also quite an impressive beard and straw hat, like some sort of cartoon character, motions him on. “Show us what you got.”

“Oh, you gentlemen are in for a treat,” Jingyi declares dramatically, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji mutters, but whatever questions he might have had, what are you doing, what are we going to play, are answered or dismissed completely when he sees the smile in Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Come on, Lan Zhan.”

It might as well be just the two of them, sitting on Wangji’s bed in his cabin at thirteen, practicing their favorite tunes together... Might as well be.

Wangji smiles back, and the melody arrives on its own.

So yes, he decides, staring into the darkness a couple of hours later, listening to the sounds of the campsite settling down around them, to the soft sighs of Wei Wuxian’s sleep... All things considered, he’s doing a bang up job of only letting his feelings affect him. The fact that they’re so far away from Gusu, so far away from every single worry that occupied his mind just days prior, just the two of them and their favorite kids, out here in nature, doesn’t... Doesn’t make Wangji want to kiss him any less, but he’s going to manage. Of course he is.

The next day brings even more excitement with it, on all fronts - they only have less than twenty li to go, before they settle in another camp, where they will lock up their canoes and most of their possessions for the afternoon, and go for a walk everyone who’s been on this trip with Wangji before is looking forward to.

The mountain vista is a good long trek away, but they’re all in high spirits, having arrived with a lot of time to spare, and they take to the unmarked forest paths with endless glee. Impressive rock formations are scattered among the trees, and Wangji couldn’t stop the kids from climbing them even if he tried - especially since Wei Wuxian is right there with them, scaling the rocks with all the agility - and volume - of a monkey, racing the kids, daring them, and altogether being a charming menace as usual.

Wangji contends himself with sending an update to Xichen, alongside a handful of pictures, and he, too, speeds up with the peak in sight, a thrill shooting through him.

Cayi Town is nothing more than a glittering speck in the distance below, its rooftops like shining glass beads, the first sign of actual civilization amidst dozens of miles of forests, not to mention the mountains. The sun is just beginning to angle towards the horizon, bathing the endless treetops in a rich golden glow, but Wangji is more interested in the way it softens Wei Wuxian’s features as he gazes out across the expanse of nature - might be that, or the wonder, but either way it’s doing him a world of service.

“Gusu is that way,” Wangji says quietly, and Wei Ying blinks once, twice, like he’s only now remembering he’s not alone, before he turns to look where Wangji is pointing.

The river has been carrying them steadily lower onto the cusp of Cayi valley, and Gusu is situated a bit higher above them now, nothing but more impenetrable forests at this distance, and the mountains looming over them.

“Right,” Wei Ying smiles, and there’s something in his eyes besides the amazement, something... not particularly sad, but definitely bittersweet.

If it were just the two of them, Wangji likes to imagine, he’d have no qualms about reaching for his hand, maybe even pulling him closer, here, at the top of the world, but as things stand right now...

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian surprises him by actually speaking up first, a tinge to his little smile that Wangji still can’t fully identify, “thank you.”

“What for?”

“You know,” Wei Ying chuckles, “taking me up here. Taking me with on this trip. Suffering me, I guess-”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji frowns - he suddenly feels like something got lost in translation, something was left unsaid between them, a very tiny but clearly significant something.

“Will I find you, down there?” Wei Wuxian motions with his head, vaguely to where Cayi Town lies, “when the summer’s over?”

That question, Wangji couldn’t have seen coming even if he tried, and it must show in his face, because Wei Wuxian laughs dismissively, laughs at himself, and shakes his head, turning away from the view.

“Forget it. This view is great, though, we should take a picture, don’t you think? All of us. Hey, everyone, picture time!”

And before Wangji knows it, the moment snaps in half, and he’s being crowded by half a dozen eager teenagers, smushed in between them for a photo - he offers up a smile that has absolutely nothing to do with Wei Ying’s arm around his shoulders, and never stops wondering, from that moment on.

If he were to ask Wei Ying outright, he wonders as they make their way back down the hill, what his plans are after this summer, would he get a satisfactory answer? If he were to ask him, where will you go? Where will I be able to find you? ...Would he learn anything at all, or would he be dismissed, as he so often is, broaching the personal with Wei Ying? Or are they... Have they progressed somewhere, anywhere, in their time together? Is there any telling?

The answers, he suspects, are waiting for him somewhere further downstream.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Zizhen steers his and A-Qing’s canoe so that it floats forth at a lazy arc, big enough not to give away their intentions, and Sizhui has no choice but to angle his and Jingyi’s boat in the same direction, so that they may gossip in peace.

Ahead of them, using the lazy currents to their advantage, Lan-Gege is currently coaching Wei Wuxian on how to steer, which mostly consists of Wei-Gege sitting on the very stern of the canoe at a somewhat precarious angle, while Lan-Gege sits facing him, probably not even aware of the way he’s looking at him.

“Leave them alone, you guys,” A-Qing rolls her eyes, which is hilarious, considering she’s the queen of campsite gossip, “they’ll figure it out on their own.”

“They’ll figure out nothing,” Jingyi declares dramatically, “if a romantic wilderness getaway isn’t enough to light that spark, then nothing is-”

“Oh my god, Jingyi,” Sizhui groans, “I know you have money riding on this bet, but this isn’t a cheap web drama, you know.”

“Might as well be,” Jingyi grumbles, “I mean honestly, what more will it take?”

What it just might take, it turns out, is the find of a lifetime.

Now, Wei-Gege has been on their side from day one, poring over every possible map of the area they’re covering with Sizhui, current ones, digital ones, even really old ones, in the vain hope that one of the dozen lakes hidden in these mountain meadows might be it, but it takes a real effort to convince Lan-Gege to actually allow them to investigate.

“Just think about it, Lan Zhan! Discovering something that’s been there all this time, but that nobody knows about! Wonder of wonders! The biggest nicest lotuses you could think of! The smile on these kids’ faces, a memory they will cherish forever!”

...Real effort being Wei-Gege putting on a heck of a show, practically dangling off Lan-Gege in the process of trying to make him see their way.

“They’ll write books about us!” Zizhen exclaims, to everybody’s amusement.

“Plus, it’s not even that much of a detour,” Jingyi presses on, “we can still reach our last camp if we just go through here-” his finger travels down the meanders of the river, “stop by to row across this lake, and end up here...”

“You kids looking for the Lotus Lake, eh?”

It’s not often that actual magical grandpas fall from the sky, but this one clearly liked their playing two nights back - they recognize him from the big camp they stopped at the day before yesterday, and he recognizes them.

“Um,” says Jingyi.

“Do you...” Zizhen has to start over again, his throat apparently dry from all the excitement, “are you saying you know where it is?”

The magic grandpa tells them.

They turn to Lan-Gege as one man, and Sizhui doesn’t need to look to know that all their puppy eyes match Wei Wuxian’s just this once.

They find the lake. They find the actual Lotus Lake, and it’s mostly a joint effort of Wei-Gege convincing Lan-Gege that no, they are not going to get lost in the woods forever, or mauled by a bear, and everybody else’s undying excitement and iron discipline with which they navigate their canoes through a stretch of the river that clearly wasn’t made for casual boating. It’s crooked and wild, with fallen trees often blocking their way so spectacularly they have to walk their canoes underneath them, ducking almost to the point of going underwater, but it’s easily the most exciting part of this trip yet, and at the end of it...

“Holy fucking shit,” Jingyi exhales, and receives about half a dozen ‘Swear jar’s in return, but all of them aren’t quite heartfelt, the sheer astonishment evident in everybody’s voices.

Okay, so not the whole lake is actually overgrown with lotuses, as Sizhui’s been imagining all this time, but it’s still beautiful - there’s patches of the plants, like an uneven green carpet, bobbing gently as they slowly paddle into the middle, and they reach out and touch the leathery leaves, run their fingertips along the stems and the seed pods...

“We shouldn’t,” Lan-Gege stops Jingyi right as he’s about to pluck one seed pod for himself, “this lake probably belongs to someone.”

“But,” Jingyi pouts, “it’s for the scavenger hunt...”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei-Gege interjects, and his smile is the softest, nicest thing, even as he good-naturedly scolds him, “don’t be like that. We’re in the middle of nowhere. This lake doesn’t belong to anyone, come on, look at it. We’ve made it this far, eh?”

Some sort of completely silent conversation unfolds between the two of them then, and Jingyi is just about to elbow Zizhen in the side to comment on that, when their esteemed Counsellors actually crank it up to eleven, not that anybody thought that that was even possible - Lan-Gege sighs, giving in, delicately stows his paddle into the boat, reaches over its side, and elegantly plucks one seed pod, stem attached and all, and hands it to Wei-Gege, like the world around them has ceased to exist and they’re just living out their own little cheesy romcom scenario.

“Fine,” he says calmly, “just the one.”

For his part, Wei Wuxian gapes at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, probably wondering if he’s just been asked for his hand in marriage, before blinking once, twice, and bursting into utterly delighted laughter.

“Alright! Everyone, remember, they’re better with the stems on.”

So yeah, the possibility of miracles, that’s apparently what it takes - some providence must be involved in the fact that their Counsellors actually agree to their far-fetched idea of not rowing any further and spending their last night right here, by the lake. Having gorged themselves on lotus seeds - bit of a lottery, that, what with the bitter ones being real bitter - they erect their tents for the last time and build a fire entirely from scratch this time, and something compels them to sit close to one another. They’re probably not going to run into anything more vicious than a bunch of mosquitoes, but it’s not that, none of them are afraid of anything - the sense of being together, here, the summer slowly tipping over and coming to an end, the entire experience of Gusu coming to an end for most of them, it makes them all tender, whether they’ll admit it or not.

This time bedtime actually is never, even though they know they’ll have an early start because of their lake-searching delay, and they chat and laugh and sing long into the night, eating the last of their supplies, dragging their sleeping bags out of their tents to lie with their heads almost knocking together to watch the stars.

Wei-Gege and Lan-Gege allow this, the invisible barrier between Counsellor and camper almost nonexistent for that one night, and they fall asleep like that, in high spirits, warm and that bittersweet kind of happy that goes hand in hand with something wonderful coming to an end, a memory etching itself into their minds for good.

And if Sizhui gets up in the middle of the night, and sees the two sitting side by side a long way away from their little campsite, right on the edge of the very lake they never thought they’d actually find, he happily keeps it to himself.

Everybody has their own definition of miracles, after all.

“Wei Ying.”

Right - that’s inconvenient.

“Oh... Hey, Lan Zhan. Sorry, I’m going to bed soon, I swear.”

“It’s fine,” Lan Zhan decides, and before Wei Wuxian can stop him, or say anything else, he’s sitting down by his side, entirely too close for his peace of mind to stay intact.

Well, peace of mind being an operative term, really. The surface of the water is painted in a dark, inky sheen, an almost perfect mirror of the night sky, and maybe if he stares at it long enough, some words will come to him.

“Can’t believe we actually found it,” he mumbles at long last, a bit dumbly, and Lan Zhan isn’t buying it either - he only hums his agreement, and Wei Wuxian can feel his eyes on him.

“Only thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” he huffs, trying very hard not to let the tenderness behind those words get to him. “Just casually breaking some more rules, no problem, that’s what I do. At least the kids will have a good memory from their last year, right? A little vignette of, like...”

“Wei Ying.”

It doesn’t take a lot, with Lan Zhan - any other words he might have wanted to wring out, don’t make it out, and Wei Wuxian sighs, finally granting him a look, knowing exactly what to expect. The curiosity is there, hiding behind something harsher, almost like disapproval, but Wei Wuxian can’t always give him what he’s looking for. Can’t always get it for himself, either.

“What you said yesterday-”

“Oh, yeah, that,” he chuckles, hugging his knees and resting his chin atop them, pulling his own discomfort in on himself, around himself, “it was nothing. I got a bit emotional, what can I say. It was a really nice view.”

“It doesn’t have to be it.”

“What do you- huh?”

“The end of this summer,” Lan Zhan says, and his voice is much steadier than Wei Wuxian himself is feeling. “It doesn’t have to be the end. You can come back here again. You should.”

For that, he quickly finds he doesn’t have a quick quip at the ready - what comes instead is a scoff he can’t help, and a pain rising from somewhere deep inside of him, making it momentarily difficult to breathe.

“Well, that’s sweet, but-”

“And you will find me down there. In Cayi Town. If you want.”

His treacherous mind imagines it for him - a life that doesn’t consist of turning away from everything he loves, of always running somewhere new, to not have to deal with the old. Going to Yunmeng, like he’d promised Shijie, actually lasting there for a couple of days, texting with Lan Zhan while he’s at it, before he catches a train back to the mountains, back to him...

“You can’t just... say that, Lan Zhan,” he exhales, and sounds about ten years older, even to his own ears, stupid and scared of things that shouldn’t be scaring him. “Can’t just offer that like it’s no big deal.”

“I can,” comes a perfectly steady, simple reply, “and I am.”

This is the tipping point, he can feel it - they’re standing at the edge of a mountain, looking down over it, and even though he’s sitting down, Wei Wuxian can feel all solid ground slipping from under his feet. He’s suddenly furious with himself, for even coming back here in the first place, retracing his steps, convincing people - and himself - for a while that he belongs, that he has a place here. Making people care for him. God. 

“Lan Zhan,” he sighs, hanging his head, glad the night probably hides most of what his face is trying to say instead of the words that come out, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

I like you so much, and I’m terrified, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I keep imagining the day I pack my bags and have to leave you, again, and I don’t think I’ve done remotely enough to prepare myself for that, and it scares me.

Those are just some of the things he wishes he were capable of saying out loud, but says none of them, partly because the words just won’t come, and partly because he feels Lan Zhan’s hand on his, soft and warm, anchoring him even further to this moment he doesn’t even know if he wants to be a conscious part of. One part of him is already running ahead at full speed to jump into the lake before them, to dive under the lotuses and leave all of this behind, and simultaneously wanting to catch up with it and fighting it is costing him a lot of energy.

There’s no coming back from this, not really, he realizes as a sort of epiphany - whatever he does in this moment will have some lasting consequences. He wishes he weren’t so damn sure that whatever he does will end up hurting Lan Zhan in one way or another, but it’s an unshakeable certainty - it’s the one thing he’s good at. Might as well make it a bit soft, then. Just to try. Just to see.

He turns his palm up, for their fingers to entwine, and he doesn’t get to dissect Lan Zhan’s every miniscule expression in the pitch black of the night, but he can imagine it for himself - the surprise, the softness, the guarded eagerness. All things Wei Wuxian will probably end up regretting making him ever feel, but there you have it. Tipping point. No coming back. They’re sitting so damn close.

“I don’t know,” he shoots for sincerity in that very last second, “that I’ll be able to come back.”

Don’t wait for me. Don’t hope for me. Just makes me want to run faster.

“Fine.”

“I’m serious, I-”

But as things go, even with the angle being a bit awkward, even with the distance between them being real difficult to judge when they can barely see, it still happens - their noses bump before their mouths find their way to each other, but when they do...

Wei Wuxian expected it to feel good, nice even, but it’s like someone sets off a fuse inside of him - the overwhelming sense of relief and joy overpowers him for just a second, and he leans in, his hand closing tighter around Lan Zhan’s fingers, there on the ground between them, and the angle still sucks, and he attempts to make it better, twists his torso, invites Lan Zhan in...

He’s fairly certain a first kiss shouldn’t be this disarming an experience, this is too good, and he wants to investigate, wants to know what other noises he can coax out of Lan Zhan when he flicks out his tongue just so, he wants-

He wants so much more of this, which is where things tend to go wrong.

He only allows himself to cradle the side of Lan Zhan’s face, his jaw, his cheek, to give him an opportunity to put some space between them, even though they don’t make it very far - briefly, they press their foreheads together, and they’ve leapt off the edge, and they’re in freefall now.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, impressed with how calm his own voice sounds, considering the pull to not say a thing and just go back in for more, is impossibly strong.

“Wei Ying.”

Fuck, he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of the night, the rest of the summer like this, and that though alone is enough to ruin the mood for him. He could have kissed Lan Zhan two weeks ago, three weeks ago, at any given point in time, and he could have gone the entirety of their little campsite experience without ever kissing him once, and the outcome would have stayed the same - as long as he means to run away, spend his lifetime running away, he’s always going to be hurting the people he meets along the way.

Better to never stop, and not look back at the mayhem he’s caused.

“Well,” he chuckles, “this sure is a thing that happened, huh. Sorry, Lan Zhan, the lake got to me. I blame the lotuses, I really do. Won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Wei Ying.”

Yup, there it is, the hurt and the confusion. He doesn’t look.

“It’s fine, I’ll keep it to myself. Never happened.”

“Is that what you want?”

Right on the money with that question, damn you Lan Zhan, and so far away from the little teenage-romance script Wei Wuxian is trying to build for both of them, to make it easier, to make it just a story, to make it mean so much less.

“Yeah, you know,” he shrugs, looking up at the stars and seeing none of them, “it’s how it has to be.”

They’ve known each other since they were nine years old, summer after summer after summer of memories, of entire lifetimes condensed into a couple of weeks, of finding new melodies together, of laughter and fights and secrets, and scabbed knees and broken noses, and Wei Wuxian dismisses it all with that, knowing full well how much it hurts, not only Lan Zhan, but both of them.

The first time he left, he didn’t think more than five minutes ahead, didn’t think it would mean he’d be gone for years, or maybe he did and the thought comforted him. He didn’t, couldn’t, didn’t know how to think it terms of goodbyes, and inevitability, and confirming one’s worst fears and greatest desires at the same time.

He knows how to think in those terms now, and he hates it.

He wishes he were sixteen still, very much not crying in his Uncle’s car as it rattled away from Gusu, but he suspects that if he were to look back through the rear window, the Lan Zhan he saw standing there in the distance in the rain, getting smaller and smaller as they drove further away, would be the very same Lan Zhan he has before him today.

Disappointed, asking him to come back, come back, next year, someday... And hurt, because of him.

And that’s just about enough.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, but this time, it’s not him who leaves - Lan Zhan gets up so abruptly he almost knocks Wei Wuxian over, and marches back towards the tents without a word, disappears into the night, and... yep, there you have it. Nice going, Wei Wuxian.

If the Lotus Lake could swallow him now, that would be nice.

He brings his fingertips to his lips, simply because no one can actually see him being an idiot, and then he lays down on his back, groaning his frustration out loud - the stars above his head will hardly offer any answers, so he just closes his eyes, his head spinning, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

Chapter Text

They make it back somehow, all in one piece and truly miraculously unharmed, considering Wangji spends the entire day in a haze like cotton fluff muddling all his senses, which makes it a bit difficult for him to do anything in even a remote vicinity of his job. It starts raining at some point, only underscoring his misery and forcing them to really toil to cover that last couple of li before they finally reach their destination.

Uncle Four’s van carries them back towards Gusu, and the kids are thrilled, already recounting everything with an excitement that speaks to these particular memories etching themselves into their hearts for good, and it is - it should be - enough. Wei Ying laughs along with them, smushed in their midst in the back, and it’s probably for the best that Wangji sits in the passenger seat, and can’t really watch him grin and gesticulate broadly as he retells the past couple of days with his usual flair, and nothing beyond that. Nothing beyond that, like there wasn’t a hint of fear, a hint of need, the most delicate, naked fondness in his eyes just last night, like he didn’t have the audacity to finally, finally let Wangji close, only to discredit the whole thing a mere moment later.

They spent their day paddling in absolute, stiff, heavy silence, save for Wei Ying calling out the usual cues, but Wangji didn’t have it in him to listen to those very closely - he did that part of his job, steered the boat, and tried in the meantime to glare holes into Wei Ying’s back, scorching enough to make him turn around and explain. His own mind supplied solution after solution, complaint after complaint, all of them thoroughly ridiculous and none of them helpful, and he suspects that whatever he might come up with, whatever words might make it past his lips, they wouldn’t matter now.

As best he knows how, Wangji has tried to show Wei Ying that he doesn’t care where he goes off to when the summer ends, as long as he knows he always has a place in Wangji’s heart, as long as he knows he can always return, but he’s failed at explaining even that, and he’s done.

In the evening, safely back home, dry and warm, the kids finally sleeping back in their Gusu tents, they sit in the dining hall with the others and Wei Ying regales them with story after story, anecdote after anecdote, while Wangji feels like... He feels like he forgot to change, like he’s still wearing his cold, wet, clingy canoe clothes, uncomfortable and chilly. With each smile, each bout of laughter, he sinks deeper and deeper into a bitterness he doesn’t know he’ll be able to climb back out of, and when he spots Wen Qing watching him, from afar and innocuously enough, but still watching, he decides it’s time to go.

He falls asleep easily enough that night - evidently exhausted not only emotionally speaking - even though he’s alone in the cabin for the first time in weeks. He wakes up far too early, as is his custom, and the fact that he’s alone still, Wei Ying nowhere to be found, doesn’t even surprise him.

It rains that day, too, and so their duties take on a somewhat repetitive course - board games and music circles and a movie after lunch it is, and he doesn’t even see Wei Wuxian for most of the day. Considering whether that’s by design only makes him grumpier, so he tries not to think about it.

“Wangji. I brought you some tea.”

Citing an oncoming headache and the need to catch up on his emails after those days away - both true, broadly speaking - Wangji has retreated into Xichen’s office over today’s lunch recess, and he doesn’t know why he hoped it might mean being left alone for a precious few moments.

“Oh,” he looks at the steaming mug his brother sets down in front of him, “thank you.”

“Mhm. Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.”

Xichen won’t pry, of course he won’t, which is why the first couple of minutes are spent in companionable silence, each of them seemingly engrossed in their respective work, but just as Wangji is barely registering the text on the screen before him, so, too, does Xichen pay very little attention to whatever he’s pretending to do over there, he knows.

“Have you spoken to Uncle?” he asks in a direct attempt to delay the personal questions until later, and Xichen chooses a smile from his endless arsenal that actually means something close to delight, as opposed to the annoyance or frustration Wangji would have expected.

“Just the one call I texted you about. On Wednesday, I think it was. He was incredibly put upon that Mingjue would even think to get involved, and call him personally. I had to remind him that Mingjue is, in fact, still a shareholder, and has some say in what happens next.”

Wangji devotes some time to look away from his own misery, and study his brother’s face closer. They only spoke a handful of times while Wangji was away on the trip, but the situation has... if not resolved, then at least stabilized, and it seems to have had a positive effect on Xichen’s peace of mind. As much as Wangji doubted Nie Mingjue might bring with him any resolutions, no matter the determination, he was still pleasantly surprised, to say the least, to watch the man almost physically drag Jin Guangyao away from Gusu by his pristine silk shirt collar, and there have apparently been some meetings behind the scenes. The idea of Nie Mingjue trying to talk some sense into their Uncle brings Wangji immeasurable amounts of amusement, almost enough to distract him from... everything else.

He recalls fondly the gesture of appreciation the older Nie brother bestowed him with right after that little showdown with Jin Guangyao appearing out of nowhere - he clapped Wangji’s shoulder powerfully enough to make him stagger, haven’t heard you swear in years, kid, and grinned like the sun, and for that one moment out of time, it really did seem like things might just work out fine...

Some displeasure must show in his face, detectable only to Xichen, because he leans in, pushing the mug of tea into Wangji’s hands, offering a smile that’s just simply encouraging this time.

“Drink, Wangji,” he suggests, “don’t worry. It’s going to work out alright.”

He can never be sure with Xichen, if he’s talking about the obvious topic of the conversation, or gently trying to steer Wangji towards what he really wants to talk about, but he complies all the same, sighing heavily as he brings the mug to his lips, the gentle scent of jasmine putting his mind at ease at least a little bit.

They’re not children anymore, Xichen no longer feels the need to watch over him every step of the way, or at least he isn’t as vocal about it anymore, but Wangji still doesn’t feel like he quite has the right words to describe what happened... what has been happening between Wei Wuxian and him, without making Xichen want to go out there and offer someone a stern talking to.

“Wei Wuxian stopped by earlier today, informing me that he’ll be moving back into his old tent. I take it you don’t know?”

Wangji’s frustration almost makes him groan out loud, even as something within him irrevocably cracks, and then shatters - he swallows that sadness quickly and glances away, which is as good as giving in, as far as conversations between Xichen and him go.

“Wei Ying does as he pleases,” he offers pointlessly, and Xichen’s smile turns from comforting to hardened steel for the briefest moment.

“I’m sure he does. I’m here to listen, when you need me.”

Wangji of all people shouldn’t underestimate Xichen, he’s reminded again - that’s all there is, that’s all there’s ever been from him. Just support, the quiet but steady kind. He would never press him, never force him to say more than he needs to, and just knowing that is... well, enough.

There are so many words Wangji could use to describe those five days on the water, what they did to him, the bitter taste they left behind, mingled with the impossible sweetness of that one short glimpse of what could have been, but he’s not going to - some things, most things, he keeps to himself, as does Xichen.

You can’t just say that, Lan Zhan, he hears Wei Ying’s voice whenever he lets his mind wander if only for a second, can’t just offer that like it’s no big deal.

He offered it precisely because it was a big deal, because he’d severely miscalculated and thought it would actually mean something, get them somewhere, and now...

“I don’t know what to do,” he mumbles into his cooling jasmine tea, admits it like some great transgression, and when next he looks up, Xichen’s smile has shifted yet again, this time to one that tells Wangji, in no uncertain terms, oh, I know. Been there.

“Right,” his brother nods, “what do you want to do?”

“You’re an idiot, you realize this, right?”

“Don’t I know it,” Wei Wuxian laughs, even as he strains under the weight of all his stuff - the tent suddenly seems entirely too small to fit him and his meagre belongings, and he staggers inside, depositing his laundry on the free bed with a huff, hoping Jiang Cheng will not follow him.

His grumpy baby brother was almost glad to see him when they returned from their little trip, but evidently Wei Wuxian has underestimated just how much discomfort and general despair either Lan Zhan or him must be exuding at any given time - he hasn’t really confided the details of their little getaway to anybody, because he’s neither an idiot nor brave enough to do so, but clearly people have been speculating.

Wen Qing tried to grill him that very first night, an attempt he resisted valiantly, in his own humble opinion - it mostly meant getting enough to drink to make the night wild enough to render any of her attempts completely useless, and when he stumbled towards his and Lan Zhan’s cabin at some point long past midnight, he realized... Well. Might not be the very best idea to barge in on Lan Zhan while in this state, or ever again.

So he simply thanked his past lazy self for not even unpacking yet and leaving his backpack somewhere in the general vicinity of the porch, grabbed the entire damn thing and made his way towards the closest empty tent.

The night was quite possibly the chilliest of his life for a plethora of different reasons, and when he woke up his head hurt like somebody was persistently beating it into shape with a hammer - big talk about drinking water to avoid a hangover, Wei Wuxian - but it was also clear on one decisive thing.

For both Lan Zhan’s sake and his own, he was going to have to pretend like nothing ever happened, and if it did, it certainly didn’t touch him, and he was going to have to do it well. The feeling of falling, of plummeting through space, has not left him since that night on the shore of that stupid magical impossible little lake, but as long as he makes sure he never hits the ground, he should be fine.

“Why are you doing this?” Jiang Cheng knows to ask the really burning questions, “did you finally make him so sick of you he had to kick you out?”

Wei Wuxian makes sure to completely accidentally elbow him in the ribs as he backs out of the tent, before laughing it off and throwing his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, declaring jovially: “Don’t be so dramatic. It was so damn stuffy in there, which I didn’t realize until I got to sleep in a tent again on the trip, you know? Besides, Lan Zhan hated having me there. You might remember, I talk a lot in my sleep.”

They haven’t shared a room since they were, what, ten, Jiang Cheng and him, but the memory is still reflected in his brother’s eyes, fond and painful in equal measures, and it serves to get him to turn away from the Lan Zhan line of questioning, so it’s worth it.

“Whatever, keep your secrets, then,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, “not like I care. Do not forget to call Shijie, though, now that you’re back. You promised.”

“I will, I will, jeez,” Wei Wuxian sighs.

The feeling of coming up short will not leave him wherever he turns, it would seem - he was only able to put their sister’s visit behind him because it was preceded by, accompanied by, and followed by so many other things demanding his attention, but he won’t be able to keep avoiding that for too long, either. He’s going to end up going back to Yunmeng, probably because Jiang Cheng will simply drag him there without hesitation once camp ends, but if it were up to Wei Wuxian, he wouldn’t deal with the implications of that until it were actually happening.

If it were up to him, come to think of it, he’d make a beeline for the hills and never return, so as not to have to deal with things in general, but that’s not really an option right now, is it.

He manhandles Jiang Cheng into recording a short video for Yanli, if only to buy himself more time away from his duties (and therefore more time without having to confront, or just be in the general vicinity of, a certain someone), and then goes about unpacking whatever the tiny tent can fit. He spots the kids, Sizhui and the others, watching him from afar, all sitting smushed in Jingyi’s tent on the far end of the row, and waves them over without much ado.

“I know, I know,” he declares, “I didn’t warn you about this, I’m sorry. Guess you’re going to have to be that much more careful past curfew, now that I’m staying here again.”

“I didn’t know you actually slept, Wei-Gege,” Jingyi comments.

“You know, occasionally,” Wei Wuxian snorts, “when I feel like it. You’ll never hear me come in, though.”

“Gre-eat,” Jingyi offers a thoroughly, hilariously fake smile.

“Isn’t it just!”

“But what happened?” Sizhui cross-examines him, his questions only naive and completely innocent to someone who doesn’t know him, “why wouldn’t you stay in the cabin anymore? It’s so much more comfortable!”

“You snore a lot?” Zizhen wonders, completely irreverently.

“Sleeptalk?” Jingyi stirs the pot, “oh! Sleep walk? Did you try to choke Lan-Gege in his sleep or something?”

“Good god, you guys,” Wei Wuxian guffaws, even as he feels a distinct discomfort about where this entire conversation is heading, “I did no such thing. It was just, a, uh...”

“What? What was it?” Jingyi is relentless, “oh, wait, I’m sure Lan-Gege will tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

It is to the credit of Wei Wuxian’s heart that it collapses in on itself and skips a beat in a way that’s completely invisible to everyone else - Lan Zhan appears by his side completely out of the blue, serene as always, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t need to look at him for too long to feel the cold distance between them, even if they’re now standing right next to each other.

“What happened that Wei-Gege isn’t staying with you anymore,” Jingyi explains, like these dumbasses aren’t fifteen years old and haven’t been speculating for ages. Shameless.

“Nothing happened, ” Wei Wuxian is surprised at himself for coming to both Lan Zhan’s and his own rescue, “anyone who’s spent more than one night in the same room with me would tell you I’m not the best roommate. I’m messy as hell, and yes, Jingyi, I sleeptalk a lot. I’m not at all surprised Lan Zhan hated having me around.”

“I didn’t hate it.”

That throws a big fat spanner in the works for Wei Wuxian, because whatever words he might have wanted to say, suddenly get lodged in his throat as he stares at Lan Zhan, who, for his part, stands there completely serenely, like his words didn’t just reach all the way to the softest spot in Wei Wuxian’s heart, and tug.

“...You didn’t?” he asks dumbly, and Lan Zhan does look at him then, expressionlessly, like he’s daring him - yeah, I said it. What are you going to do about it?

“No.”

“Oh. Huh. Well, I-”

The ringing of the camp bell saves and dooms him at the same time, announcing the end of lunch recess - the kids only hover for about two seconds before Wei Wuxian shoos them away, and they break off into a sprint towards the main lodge, where the best pick of freshly baked pastries for an afternoon snack will be waiting for those ahead of the line.

That still leaves Lan Zhan, just standing there perfectly calmly, like his very presence isn’t making Wei Wuxian itch all over, watching him like he’s egging him on, go on, then, see how long you can keep this up. Making a mad dash for the hills is still an option, right...?

“You’re staring,” Wei Wuxian accuses him even as he avoids eye contact, brushes past him into the tent to busy his hands with unpacking that actually doesn’t need to be done. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m gonna do great over here. Keep an eye on the kids, you know? We might finally crack the secret of what they do past curfew. Huaisang thinks they actually try searching for the scavenger hunt trophies at night, as if he lights a fire by every one or something... The ideas they get...”

He’s swiftly running out of words, suitable or stupid ones to say, and he half hopes that by the time he backs out of the tent again, Lan Zhan will have gotten fed up with him and left, but no such luck - still there, still looking at him like he’s examining him or something, like Wei Wuxian hasn’t succeeded at deterring him even a little bit...

“It’s for the best, right?” he announces a bit pointlessly, gesturing feebly towards the tent, the silent plea behind those words clear to both of them - tell me this can work. That we can pretend like nothing ever happened, and don’t actually have to talk about a damn thing.

Tell me it can work.

But it wouldn’t be Lan Zhan if he were willing to offer any straightforward answers. He gives Wei Wuxian a once-over with those beautiful, serene, ice-cold eyes, evaluating, straight up judging him, and he doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown, doesn’t, in fact, express a whole lot, but his words are absolutely sharpened and primed to stir up even more hurt, even more confusion, echoing back to the night at the lakeside.

“If that’s what you want.”

You brought this on yourself - now suffer the goddamn consequences, Wei Wuxian.

It doesn’t work. Trying to pretend like kissing Lan Zhan after days, weeks, years of wanting to do it, didn’t leave a lasting mark, wasn’t anything but a tiny mishap, starts taking its toll pretty early on, and even Wei Wuxian’s heart is probably laughing at him now.

He yearns, which is an entirely new feeling in his repertoire, and one that he doesn’t particularly enjoy, either - camp life obviously doesn’t give a hoot about his personal issues, and goes on with unchanged intensity, unchanged routines, and unchanged speed, which all unfortunately mean Lan Zhan and him must spend a lot of time together. A lot of time.

There’s activities to plan and execute, walks around the forests and the hills to take that they haven’t gotten to yet, duties to attend to, dishes to wash side by side with the kids, soccer games to take part in or referee, pictures to take for those of the kids who won’t be coming back last year and seem to want all the more mementoes the closer the end of the summer is... It’s torment, and again, Wei Wuxian has brought this on himself, but Lan Zhan should... He shouldn’t actually be going along with the plan, pretending like nothing happened, gracefully allowing Wei Wuxian to exist in his presence while constantly reminding him that he blew his one shot at whatever they could have had, smiling when it’s least convenient, which means not at all aimed Wei Wuxian’s way...

It only so happens, he concludes, that he’s somehow managed to realize just how much he wants Lan Zhan’s... time, attention, affection, everything, now that he can never plausibly have it. He really hates coming to conclusions.

“May I have a word?”

A less polite person might slap him upside the head and remind him he’s been staring into space for ages, probably - he’s lucky Wen Qing isn’t around - but Xichen’s way of getting his attention is simply sitting down across the table from him, and smiling gently until Wei Wuxian kind of sort of returns to his present consciousness.

“Oh... Sure, yes, of course. I’m listening.”

“You wanted me to let you know if I figured out the papers issue.”

That succeeds at forcing him to concentrate at least a little bit.

“Yeah... yes! Right. Yes, I did. So, will you be going to jail because you hired me?”

“Fortunately not,” Xichen chuckles, but it’s accompanied by a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes, ever - those Lans and their indecipherable facial expressions that become perfectly readable when one just tries a little bit... Despite himself, Wei Wuxian shudders.

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear it. Either way, you did hire me last minute, and you have my full support if you also want to fire me last minute to save yourself the trouble.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Xichen’s smile somehow broadens and becomes even colder at the same time.

“Excellent,” Wei Wuxian forces a smile of his own, “I’m glad to hear it... I said that already, didn’t I. Nevermind. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be on my way, then...”

“Do you know why I hired you in the first place?”

Ah, there goes his perfectly planned out, drawn out escape - Wei Wuxian stops halfway through sliding off the bench and sighs, allowing himself about two seconds of goddammit, screw all this, before he prevails with that bitter smile of his own, and looks Lan Zhan’s brother in the eye, fully expecting to be mowed down by the power of his weaponized kindness.

“No, I don’t,” he replies obediently, “why did you hire me? Was it to piss off your baby brother?”

“Ha, no,” Xichen laughs, “although that might have been a tiny unconscious part of it, I’ll admit.”
“I knew it,” Wei Wuxian mutters to himself.

“I didn’t hire you because I knew you were going to be trouble,” Xichen starts out somewhat cryptically, “although, come to think of it, that also might have been a selling point. But no. In all the years you were away, Gusu went through... all the things it went through, and yet somehow, at the beginning of this summer, we still had a camp to run, still had dozens of children coming in, even though I was so far from sure we could actually do it.”
“You-” Wei Wuxian wants to say sorry, wants to say he didn’t know, wants to say any number of ultimately useless things, but he doesn’t - there’s no room.

“For the first time in my life, I was alone in trying to make this place run for one more summer,” Xichen continues, his voice even, “and I didn’t even have enough people to do it. Do you know who it was that first mentioned your name to me?”

“Probably not my brother,” Wei Wuxian squints.

“It was Huaisang, actually. Remember Wei Wuxian? , he said, and all of a sudden, I did. I could scarcely believe it - you’d been gone for years, but you were once such a huge part of our experience here... You were once a Gusu kid, and I couldn’t believe my luck when we found out you were available, at the very last minute, too.”

“A Gusu kid,” Wei Wuxian scoffs, albeit a bit feebly, “didn’t know we were a club.”

“I’m glad I got you on board, in case that wasn’t clear,” Xichen’s eyes are piercing, and his tone no-nonsense, like he’s just waiting for Wei Wuxian to understand the actual message behind his words. “The things you did for these kids... have been doing for them, the way you found your place among us so very quickly, all of that tells me I made the right decision back then. You remind me, alongside everyone else, why I keep at this. Why I don’t want Gusu to sink. Believe it or not, Wei Wuxian, you’re one of us, just proving what we all know to be true - this place becomes a part of you for life, whether you like it or not. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can just pretend like that isn’t true, and leave it behind.”

And there it is - stupidly melodramatic, one side of Wei Wuxian’s mind is telling him, but the other, more prominent part just might want to have a bit of a cry about how hard those words are hitting home.

He doesn’t, of course, because he doesn’t cry in front of people as a rule - he only squints some more and takes a look around, but no, he’s the only witness to Xichen’s quiet savagery.

“Well, uh,” he tries, his voice a bit hoarse, “it kinda sounds like you want me to sign over my soul in exchange for being allowed to come back here. Is that what’s happening? Am I still going to be a Counsellor a hundred years from now? ... Can I come back next year?”

That last question doesn’t really align with the rest of his teasing, simply by virtue of being actually honest, and he kind of surprises himself by saying it out loud in the first place, but Xichen, now he doesn’t seem surprised in the least, like this admission is exactly what he wanted to hear from Wei Wuxian.

He only smiles some more, shaking his head in a distinctly I can’t believe you’re like this manner, and stands up, leaving Wei Wuxian with a phrase he’s come to absolutely despise: “If that’s what you want.”

He only groans and rests his forehead on the aged wood of the table after Xichen leaves, the true meaning of his words ringing in his ears.

Maybe it’s high time you figured out what that even is.

“I’m telling you, do a sheet bend. Those ropes are way mismatched.”

“No. A fisherman is better, it’ll be under a lot of strain.”

“Just use a new rope, then! The same thickness as this one!”

“We don’t have a new rope. We’d have to take apart the entire bridge.”

“Well, then maybe let’s do that-”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji groans, “we don’t have time for this. Let me do it. Go down, get the old ropes, take the kids to camp. I’ll finish up.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian has the gall to mimic his tone, “I know you’d do anything to get rid of me right now, but I’m telling you, I know what I’m doing. Let me redo the damn knot.”

“No.”

“Lan Zhan!”

“You alright up there? Do you want us to do anything?”

That’s Jingyi, him and the other kids hovering somewhat awkwardly as Wangji and Wei Ying bicker high up above their heads, and this morning activity certainly isn’t going the way either of them intended.

“We’re fine,” Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, even as he completely accidentally knees Wangji in the side, climbing around him, “always remember, kids, safety first! Get those ropes cleaned up, I wanna see neat bundles! We’re going back to camp once Lan-Gege figures out how he wants to do this.”

Wangji has to really try to resist the urge to plain old kick him off the rope bridge - he doesn’t know who thought it would be a good idea to use this last half hour before lunch to inspect these ropes, especially since to Wei Wuxian, it clearly meant climbing as close to him as possible, and endlessly pestering him. It doesn’t help that they can seemingly barely stand being in each other’s presence these days, on unsteady ropes or otherwise.

“Get down,” Wangji instructs him - he can’t wait to be back on solid ground, and able to put some distance between them.

“After you, Lan-Gege,” Wei Ying teases him mercilessly, seemingly impervious even to Wangji’s sharpest glare.

“You’re in the way.”

“Oh, am I now? Well, excuse me, I’m no master of the ropes. How do I...?”

He pretends to fumble around as he retreats towards the ladder, which might be hilarious to the kids below, but possibly dangerous up here.

“Stop it,” Wangji hisses, “just climb down.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Wei Wuxian proclaims loudly, and Wangji doesn’t know if he meant for it to remind him of the canoe - the river, the lake, the stars, the kiss - but it does, anyway, and he momentarily scrunches his eyes shut, the kids’ laughter echoing in his ears. Lunch recess can’t come soon enough today.

“Hurry up.”

“Going, going. Or would the rope master prefer to go first?”

“Just climb.”

“Yessir. Climbing down now. Observing necessary safety precautions. Like a boss - shit.”

Far too many things happen at once - there’s a moment of weightlessness, the ropes shaking in Wangji’s grip, and far too late does he realize what that means. Wei Wuxian lets out a rather underwhelming yelp, considering the height he falls from, but his grunt of pain when he hits the ground is, well, real.

“Wei Ying!” Wangji exclaims and jumps off the ladder the rest of the way.

“Wei-Gege, holy sh- Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian laughs, leaning on the closest tree to get back up on his feet, “I’m okay, I’m- fuck, alright, nope, that’s my ankle. Oh boy.”

He folds over somewhat unceremoniously, ending up a pathetic heap on the forest floor, and the kids swarm around him, equal parts concern and confusion.

“Is it broken?” Zizhen demands.

“Did you hear a crunch?” Jingyi investigates.

“Move,” Wangji orders them, and goes to his knees in front of Wei Wuxian. “Let me look.”

“Nah, Lan Zhan, leave it, it’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing to worry about, it’s probably just a bit sprained ohgodfuckingdammit- ow!”

“You’re lucky if it’s just sprained,” Wangji comments dryly, having applied pressure at just the right spot, “did you hear a crunch?”

“I don’t... think so,” Wei Ying winces, “seriously, I’m sure I just gotta walk it off.”

“I’m sure,” Wangji scoffs, then turns to the children: “Alright, we’re going back to camp. Start packing up the ropes, neatly. Bring them with you, leave them you-know-where in the main lodge. Jingyi, Sizhui. Run on ahead and find Wen Qing, please, tell her what happened and where to find us.”

He’s perfectly aware Wei Wuxian is staring at him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Now.”

That springs everyone to action, and before long, Sizhui and Jingyi are sprinting towards the campsite on their little mission, and everyone else starts heading that way, too, shooting concerned glances at their Counsellors.

“Sit,” Wangji orders Wei Ying, “it’ll be a while before Wen Qing gets here. We should get it out of the shoe before it swells too much-”

“Nah, it’s okay, I’m telling you,” Wei Wuxian persists at being an idiot, actually somehow managing to stand up, “I’m gonna have to get back to camp one way or another. Now if you could find me a good walking stick, that would help a lot...”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji’s frustration mounts, “you’re injured.”

“Eh, so what,” Wei Wuxian shrugs, and proceeds to hobble towards the campsite at a pace that would probably have him arrive at his destination at some point before dinner today. “Gotta walk it off, that’s all.”

“You do not walk it off. Stop. Wait.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian turns to him, and through the amusement in his eyes, it’s obvious he’s in actual pain. “What are you going to do, give me a piggyback ride? Lay off, Lan Zhan.”

Those words, the tone of them, shouldn’t hurt as much as they do, but at least Wangji does a good job of not letting it show, in his opinion - he only glares, and considers his options. Simply walking away is one of them, and it might even provide the most amount of satisfaction, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for Wei Wuxian tripping into a ditch somewhere and rotting there, as much as he also doesn’t want to be a part of this any longer.

The second best option might actually be giving him a real life piggyback ride, but somehow, Wangji senses that that wouldn’t go over well right now. As things stand, he simply takes a look around, singles out a suitable branch, and presses it into Wei Wuxian’s hand, his glare never letting up.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Wangji informs him, and then proceeds to walk away.

That does provide some satisfaction, however temporary - before he knows it, Wei Wuxian is hopping by his side like the world’s least obedient cripple, and Wangji doesn’t even have to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Wait, alright, do not leave me here,” Wei Wuxian whines, “see, I’m walking just fine. This is great. I’m gonna be okay in no time...”

Wangji has some scathing reply at the ready, but then he really looks at Wei Ying, leaning on his makeshift cane, not putting a modicum of weight on his supposedly perfectly healthy foot, and it occurs to him... This is how he’s always been, it’s what he’s always done - he’d rather everyone around him thought he was just fine, be it minor physical injuries or something else, than admit he’s hurting.

How do you expect me to believe that?, Wangji wants to accuse him, how do you still think I don’t know you, through and through?

But before he can waste his breath any more, they see salvation in the form of Wen Qing storming their way, medical bag slung over her shoulder and everything, and the closer she gets, the more her face twists into a grimace of annoyance not unlike the one Wangji himself feels.

“What the hell did you do?” she curses, “the kids made it sound like you broke your leg in at least three different places. What would possess you to think you can just walk around? Sit down, right. Now. Sit.”

Wangji observes with some satisfaction Wei Ying trying to argue with her, but failing epically on all fronts, and obediently folding himself down on the nearest tree stump.

“I’m fi-ine, Wen Qing, it’s nothing,” he pouts, “I just fell on it a little bit, it’s - yeowch, woman, warn me next time!”

With deft fingers, in gentle but firm, practiced moves, Wen Qing frees his foot from his shoe and examines it, carefully moving it this way and that, taking note of every wince of pain he doesn’t manage to swallow, and ignoring all of his complaints about her bedside manners.

“You’re lucky,” she echoes Wangji’s sentiment from earlier, “it probably is just sprained, but. If you want to function in any conceivable way, it’s bed rest and ice packs for you for the rest of the day, at minimum.”

“But-”

“That’s final. You want to spend the rest of camp limping around? Or do you want to sacrifice a couple of hours to heal quicker?”

“I can handle the afternoon activities on my own,” Wangji adds, “it’s all planned out.”

“Good,” Wen Qing nods, even as Wei Ying looks even more hurt, for whatever reason. “You do that. You go back to your cabin, and rest.”

“Tent,” Wei Wuxian reminds her, getting back up on his feet, a fresh bandage around his ankle.

“Huh?”

“I’m back in the tent now.”

She glares at him mutely for a moment, as if she’s weighing the pros and cons of tripping him all over again, and then redirects that same glare at Wangji, who has the common sense to look away, if not shrug outright.

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” she declares, “whatever, tent, then. Wherever you can lie down and keep the foot elevated. I will be checking up on you, you hear me?”

They bicker all the way back to the campsite, but she does manhandle Wei Ying to actually lie down in his tent, at which point the kids have started swarming them all over again - Wei Ying has the gall to use them as his personal gaggle of servants, sending Jingyi with Wen Qing to fetch him an ice pack, Sizhui to bring lunch...

Wangji would be far more annoyed, but the sight of him actually lying down, peeking out of the tent at all the places he won’t be walking any time soon, almost makes him pity him instead.

“Sweet of you to hover like a mother hen, Lan Zhan, but I’ll be okay now.”

...Until he opens his mouth, of course.

Yet again, Wangji opens his mouth to deliver a curt response, but yet again, it doesn’t come - he glares at the carefully indifferent little smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and thinks on their not-quite-conversation the other day, Wei Ying just having moved his things back into this cramped little space without so much as mentioning wanting to do so to Wangji...

I’m not at all surprised Lan Zhan hated having me around. How could he explain to him that it had been the exact opposite - how could one explain anything to Wei Ying, once he’d made up his mind, really?

This time, he does walk away, and it does feel good, even despite the bitterness, even, maybe, because of it.

The news of Wei Wuxian’s injury travels quick, and by the time Wangji walks in the direction of the tents after lunch, absolutely not to check up on him, he’s amassed quite the crowd, an entire troupe of kids lounging nearby and listening to him play the harmonica - at any other time, Wangji’s fingers might itch to pick up his guitar and join him, but right now, he simply turns and walks away.

He borrows Wen Ning for the afternoon, to help out in Wei Ying’s stead, and it works out smoothly enough, but the kids still convince him to come back a little earlier, so that they might spend some time sitting with their Wei-Gege before dinner, and chat. Wangji can’t say no to them, of course, but when they return, it’s to find Wei Wuxian fast asleep - the sight of him curled up on himself on that narrow tent bed, his foot laden with ice packs like a piece of chicken, tugs at something now buried deep in Wangji’s heart, but before he can stop the kids from waking him, they’re already barrelling in, and Wei Ying’s eyes blearily blink awake...

“Oh... hey, everyone! I was not sleeping, shut up. How was your afternoon? Jingyi, I swear to god...”

Yet again, Wangji is left standing on the sidelines, watching the display before him half fondly, half bitterly, and before Wei Wuxian can even find the time to look at him, to register he’s there, he walks away.

He takes a nap himself, all throughout dinner and a little bit after, and by the time he wakes up, the campsite has calmed down significantly - it must be that Jiang Cheng went through with his plan to organize yet another big soccer match, and everyone and their mother is now either chasing the ball or cheering on the process thereof. Wangji himself doesn’t half mind not taking part in that, promising himself to go check out the score only later, after he’s eaten something.

He makes his way to the main lodge through the back, where he knows he won’t run into anyone, and will be able to sneak into the kitchens and grab himself a portion out of Granny Wen’s leftovers - the team in charge of washing the dishes has already finished up, and so it really is peacefully quiet in the lodge, Granny only spurring him on as he heaps her curry rice on his plate. If it were up to her, she’d feed him at least two more plates of the stuff, and so Wangji only lets himself be mothered a bit, and sits with her and Uncle Four as he eats, listening to their gentle bickering.

He washes his plate slowly, meticulously, thinking, blissfully, about nothing in particular for now, which is when he hears the voices coming in from the dining hall, and listens in without really meaning to.

“...Just sit down, let me look at it again. You just had to move all the way back to the tent again, huh,” Wen Qing can be heard grumbling.

“Ah, but there was no other way,” Wei Wuxian sounds like he means to only joke again, “I already told you-”

“Yeah, you did. I still can’t believe - hold still - I still can’t believe you’d think that’s the best solution, just up and leaving. People actually talk about their issues, Wei Wuxian.”

“What issues. There are no issues.”

Wangji has inadvertently stopped what he was doing, soap dripping down his half-washed plate.

“Oh, please. You’re not even doing a very good job of convincing yourself of that. Whatever happened between you two, can’t be so horrible that you can’t actually talk about it. Don’t look at me like that, you know those puppy eyes don’t work on me. You’re not a kid anymore, no matter how much you might want to act like it. I’m not going to sit here and support your frankly dumb ideas about resolving these issues. Just talk to him.”

“I can’t just-”

“Can’t, or won’t?” she says sharply, which is followed by a pained yelp - she’s probably administering actual medical help alongside her brand of blunt honesty.

“It’s not that easy,” Wangji can hear Wei Ying pouting.

“That’s only because you’re making it unnecessarily hard for yourself, and everyone else who has to watch you.”

Wangji has completely forgotten what he was doing, standing there over the kitchen sink frozen still - a silence follows, but it really is very quiet in the lodge at this hour, so quiet that he hears the next words Wei Wuxian says as clearly as if he were standing right there next to him.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s better off without me, anyway.”

Where Wangji’s heart constricts so painfully he thinks he can actually hear it cracking a little bit, Wen Qing groans in sheer frustration, and Wei Wuxian winces again, hey!, as she probably lets said frustration be felt.

“Sit still. I cannot believe I have to listen to this,” she says sharply, “I am so not in the business of doling out life advice, but you listen to me now, Wei Wuxian. No one is better off without you. Just because it would make things easier for you to believe that, doesn’t mean it’s true, you hear me?”

“I don’t-”

“I don’t want to hear it! Do not go around assuming things about people, without asking them first! What is this, high school? I don’t understand why you can’t seem to want to accept that people actually care about you.”

The silence after that is only punctuated by the loud hammering of Wangji’s own heart - Wei Wuxian doesn’t say a thing.

“There, all finished,” Wen Qing says after a moment, a bit more kindly, “go grab a fresh ice pack, and back into your miserable tent it is. Use all the time you’ll be lying down to at least think about what I said.”

Wangji realizes almost too late that grabbing a fresh ice pack will mean Wei Wuxian will have to make his way to where he’s currently standing - he quickly rinses off his plate and bolts before he can be discovered.

He doesn’t know if Wei Ying will think about what Wen Qing said, but Wangji himself can’t get her words out of his mind - he hides in his cabin, sits on his bed with his guitar in his lap without actually playing a single note, and some things slowly start making sense.

He’s spent seemingly every minute of every hour of every day ever since they came back from the canoe trip irritated, sad, or simply mad at Wei Wuxian for not being able to accept the very thing - that Wangji might care. It’s not like he doesn’t see it, it’s not like he wasn’t confronted with it, and yet, he still has trouble believing it, and why?

He’s better off without me.

Does Wei Wuxian really think Wangji would be somehow happier, calmer, more at ease, if he weren’t around? Is that why his first instinct is always to run, to pretend like he’s just fine, to never dare show what he’s actually feeling? Because it’s easier for people not to have to deal with him?

He spends so much time being loud, and expansive, and everywhere, spends so much time making people laugh, and never enough time actually letting them close. There is an image that has forever seared itself into Wangji’s memory, that one split second after they’d kissed, after they’d managed to put some distance between them, and Wei Wuxian looked happy. He looked at peace, and then something within him shifted just like that, some sort of fear reappeared, and then he was joking about the lotuses being to blame, and that was a thing that happened, huh, and he was so far away from Wangji he might as well have never come back to Gusu at all.

It’s infuriating, yes, and frustrating, and endlessly unfair that Wangji has to be coming to these conclusions on his own, but...

The nighttime bell surprises him - has he really been sitting here all this time? Mechanically, he picks up his guitar, laces his boots and steps out to do his rounds, before he realizes Wei Ying won’t be there to do his own, won’t be there to meet up with everyone later for the lullaby.

“Oh, hey, Lan Zhan, you’re here,” Wei Ying actually tries to prove him wrong, hobbling around with the help of his walking stick, “I totally forgot I would actually have to, you know. Do my job, come the evening.”

“You don’t,” Wangji sighs, “I’ll do your rounds. Stay here.”

“Aw, no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll be-”

“Fine, yes, I know,” Wangji replies, but he feels no anger, no irritation, this time. “Wei Ying, stay.”

“But, the lullaby...”

“Stay here,” Wangji repeats, and again, Wei Wuxian looks inordinately sad, taking it to mean that they’ll be excluding him, and Wangji wishes he had the words and the time to convince him otherwise - as things stand, he’s simply going to have to show him.

It takes him a bit longer to check twice the amount of tents and cabins, and by the time he hurries to the main square, most everyone else is already waiting there.

“Wangji, good, you’re here,” Xichen smiles at him, testing out idle melodies on his guitar, “we thought we might actually do things a bit differently tonight, since...”

“So did I,” Wangji agrees breathlessly, “because Wei Ying can’t come with, I-”

“Wait, you told him?” Jiang Cheng frowns, “we wanted to surprise him for a change.”

“...Tell him what?” Wangji inclines his head.

“I ordered him to stay put,” Wen Qing explains, “but he was whining about the lullaby so much...”

“We thought we could just stop by his tent, so he can play with all of us,” Wen Ning finishes explaining.

“If you’re okay with that,” Xichen adds, and the spark in his eye tells Wangji he knows exactly how okay with that he might be.

He looks at all of these people watching him expectantly, and thinks back to the conversation he overheard earlier - I don’t understand why you can’t seem to want to accept that people actually care about you, Wen Qing had pointed out, and Wei Wuxian hadn’t been able to reply, but... Maybe he just needed to see.

“That’s pretty much what I had in mind, too,” Wangji smiles.

They see him sitting there on his horrible narrow tent bunk in complete pitch black darkness, finding mismatched, gentle melodies with his harmonica, and before Wangji can say anything, Jiang Cheng points a flashlight directly in his face, while Nie Huaisang unceremoniously pushes inside his tent to sit by his side, everyone else crowding around.

“Wakey wakey!” Huaisang hollers, “we’re not done working yet.”

“What the f- Jiang Cheng, stop it... What are you all doing here?”

“It’s lullaby time,” Mianmian announces, pulling Wen Qing after her to sit inside the tent as well and huddle for warmth - the night is becoming a bit chilly.

“Well, I mean, yeah,” Wei Wuxian is still confused, “but you could have gone on without me, you didn’t have to - ouch! Seriously, Wen Qing!”

“Yes, we could have,” she scolds him even as she underscores her point by hitting him where it really hurts, “but we weren’t going to.”

“What are we singing today?” Wen Ning wonders.

“I’ve had enough White Windmills to last me a lifetime,” Jiang Cheng groans, “come up with something new.”

“We could finally do something, oh, I don’t know, modern,” Huaisang suggests.

“You philistine.”

“He’s got a point, you know.”

“We’re waiting!” somebody that sounds suspiciously like Jingyi a couple tents away hollers, to everyone’s amusement.

“Quiet, or I’m coming over there!” Wei Wuxian responds, but he still looks... confused, and happy, and a bit lost. “I don’t know, you guys, what do you want to do...? We don’t have to...”

“Yes, we do, ” Jiang Cheng elbows him in the ribs, “now pick a song.”

“Oh, jeez, I don’t know... Uh, Lan Zhan...”

It feels like a lifetime since Wei Wuxian actually seeked him out, if only to find a melody together, and Wangji finds himself smiling, stepping closer to him, his fingertips already searching for the right tones on the strings of his guitar.

“The second night of the trip,” he reminds Wei Ying, like they aren’t surrounded by people, “we stayed in that place full of people, and that old man let me have his guitar...”

“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian beams like the sun when the realization hits him, “oh my god, I remember. Alright, do you all know Little Apple?”

“The Chopstick Brothers song?” Mianmian cackles.

“Oh my god,” Wen Qing groans, “you can’t be serious.”

“Oh no, but we made it better,” Wei Wuxian proclaims, “Lan Zhan, show your brother the riff you came up with, show him, show him...”

It’s a week earlier, and Wei Ying is grinning at him just like today, the glow of the campfire softening his features and making his eyes gleam, and they sit surrounded by so many other people, and come up with song after song to play for the kids and the strangers they’ll never meet again...

And it’s years ago, all of them younger, more reckless, and they’re sitting just like this by the lake in the evening on their first night of camp as Junior Counsellors, and Wei Wuxian, all of sixteen years old, leads them all in song until the bell rings and they remember their duties and run to make the curfew in time...

And it’s right now, everybody laughing as they struggle to remember the lyrics and understand the modified melody of the originally extremely silly song, and the notes of Wei Wuxian’s harmonica occasionally falter because he, too, is laughing through his playing, and it’s... wonderful. It’s wonderful.

This is what you have here, Wangji wants to tell him. People who do care about you, whether you like it or not. People who are not better off without you. People you don’t have to run away from.

He wants to tell him all of it and more, but he’ll settle for showing him, and letting him figure out the rest.

Chapter Text

“Alright, gentlemen - and A-Qing - I think it’s obvious we have a problem.”

“No, we don’t, Jingyi, oh my god.”

They’re all sitting smushed into Jingyi’s tent yet again, and Sizhui hits at least two people when he throws his hands up in the air out of sheer frustration.

“It’s none of our business,” he adds.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Jingyi declares dramatically, like he’s narrating some grand plan, “ we only have a teeny tiny handful of days to go until the end of our very last camp-”

“Eight days, Jingyi, it’s not so bad.”

“-and time flies with merciless speed, whether we like it or not. And I don’t know about you, but I want to enjoy those last days. And whether they like it or not, our Counsellors are a huge part of making that happen. It’s honestly irresponsible of them-”

“You can not be serious.”

“-to start pining now, and neglect us in the process.”

“They’re really going through it,” A-Qing agrees, “I caught Wei-Gege just staring into space with his harmonica in his mouth before lunch, watching Lan-Gege teaching the little kids to play again. I didn’t know what a forlorn look was until that moment, I tell ya.”

“Almost like when Zizhen was pining over you,” Jingyi points out, and receives only physical violence for his efforts, both Zizhen and A-Qing elbowing him in the ribs.

“Hey!” Zizhen defends himself, “we weren’t that bad! At least we got together in the end!”

“A true miracle,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “but if you remember correctly, it was Sizhui and I who had to pull an entire rope of strings to make that happen, execute a meticulously constructed plan-”

“We just sent them both into the same section of the forest during Ambush and let the rest take its course,” Sizhui points out.

“And it worked,” Jingyi raises one sharp finger, “so we’re going to do it again.”

“Huh?” A-Qing squints.

“Oh no,” Sizhui sighs.

“But... we’re already together...” Zizhen points out.

“Not for you,” Jingyi scoffs, “for them.”

He points to the other side of the clearing, all the way to the fire pit, where the usual gaggle of children surrounds Wei-Gege as he lounges in the grass, coaxing somewhat mismatched melodies out of his harmonica. This has become something of a lunch recess staple - where other Counsellors usually use this time to nap, or get a much welcome respite from their charges via hiding in the restricted area in the back of the main lodge, Wei-Gege not only never seems to need rest, he also never disappears from sight. He can usually be found by the sound of his instrument, picking a soft spot in the shade to sprawl and play, and inevitably, sooner or later, some kids follow, singing along or simply sitting close by, waiting for the occasional lull in the music to hear yet another one of Wei Wuxian’s little stories or anecdotes.

Lan-Gege joins him sometimes - like today, sitting by his side with his guitar in his lap, serene as a statue, the two instruments complimenting each other nicely even though they’re so different. That, too, everyone’s gotten used to over the weeks, but ever since they came back from the canoe trip, there’s been an undercurrent of... tension there, for the lack of a better word, that some, like Sizhui for example, wish they didn’t notice, and some others, like Jingyi, feel the need to comment on and point out all the time.

None of them can pretend to know what actually happened, if anything happened between the two, but that won’t stop them from speculating - and even Sizhui, who’s usually all for leaving people be, and absolutely not prying where it’s not welcome, has to admit that seeing his favorite two people inches away from their usual happiness is a bit disheartening. Oh, they’re still playfully at each other’s throat all the time, and where Lan-Gege seemed just downright frustrated with Wei Wuxian a couple of days ago, that trademark exasperated fondness of his seems to have returned now, but still... Something is missing.

“It’s not like we can Parent Trap them or anything,” he points out, “or lock them in a closet or something. Maybe they just need some time.”

“Time is what we don’t have, my pure-hearted friend,” Jingyi persists, “and I don’t know about you, but locking people in a closet is a pretty bulletproof narrative tool. Works like a charm every time.”

“Maybe on fictional people,” A-Qing notes, “you risk making them hate each other for all eternity if it doesn’t work. I say we go with some good old-fashioned mushy-mushy romance - you know, making them realize they can’t be apart. Forcing them to say nice things about the other. I don’t know, maybe the rabbits can play a part, you know how much Lan-Gege loves those...”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Jingyi frowns, “too risky and time-consuming, with too little payoff. We need something direct, and quick.”

“But sneaky,” Zizhen adds.

“But sneaky,” Jingyi agrees.

“I don’t know, you guys,” Sizhui sighs, “maybe we should just concentrate on the scavenger hunt. We still have three things left to go, and they’re all impossible. We got too comfortable with ourselves after we got that lotus seed pod, and now we’re lagging behind.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jingyi declares, “but everybody start thinking about what closet we’re locking Lan-Gege and Wei-Gege in. Bring out the list, Sizhui.”

The tent is starting to get a bit stuffy, and they don’t need complete (imagined) privacy for this, so they make their way out into the woods, to find a secluded spot by the lake, where they proceed to drape themselves all over one another in one lazy pile, crouching over the veritable mound of scavenger hunt paperwork Sizhui has amassed.

They know the surrounding area like the back of their hand by now, and the checklist of the trophies they’ve successfully turned in to Nie-Gege is a mile long, but still...

“The cards make no goddamn sense, I’m telling you,” Sizhui arranges the little collection this way and that - they’re all laminated, beautifully painted probably by Nie-Gege himself, and the very fact that he lets them keep them, means they hold a special significance.

They’re numbered up to 52 - a full deck, missing only the last three - with a particular pattern on the back side that would suggest they’d form some sort of bigger picture, or maybe a map, when put together like a puzzle, but no such luck. Sizhui and the others have spent weeks gathering them for every trophy, carefully cataloging them, convincing other kids to let them have their finds because it’s simply better if they’re all in one spot, come on, of course we’ll share the damn spoils with you in the end, but... Nothing. It’s like Nie Huaisang only gives them out to toy with them, and honestly Sizhui wouldn’t put it past him.

More likely they’re missing one last piece of the proverbial puzzle - and it seems unlikely that once they hand in the last three trophies, that the last three cards out of fifty-two will hold the answer - and they’ve all been becoming a bit frustrated, which is probably exactly what Nie-Gege wants.

“Right, so, aside from the hell cards,” Jingyi grumbles, shuffling them idly in his hand, “we’ve got shooting star, green dragon, and... uhh...”

“Veil of red,” Sizhui supplies helpfully, “frankly, I’m convinced he’s just waiting for us to come up with something at this point, anything to make it obvious we’re trying...”

“This is Nie Huaisang we’re talking about,” A-Qing shakes her head, “he wants the real deal, or bust.”

“Right,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “let me just stand in the way of a goddamn meteorite shower and bring him the first one that knocks me out. Shooting star, my ass.”

“And we’ve done so many green dragons I don’t ever wanna see papier mache again,” Zizhen complains.

“Right, well,” Sizhui sighs, “you know what he always says - they don’t necessarily have to be things, per se, not these last ones. So a shooting star could be... I don’t know. A picture of one? A ninja star that weird little kid in cabin 3 has, that we throw at Nie-Gege when he’s not looking?”

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” A-Qing scratches her chin.

“Ri-ight,” Jingyi rolls his eyes, “and a veil of red would be... what?”

“A veil of red...” Zizhen repeats thoughtfully, “I don’t know, man.”

“Well, didn’t someone try sewing one the other day?” Sizhui points out, “you know, before the trip? And Nie-Gege said close enough. So, I don’t know. Maybe someone’s supposed to wear it?”

“What, like they do in those traditional weddings?” Zizhen says, and...

It’s almost impossible to spot sometimes, the tiniest of cogs in the complicated machine of the universe snapping into place and making the whole thing actually work, but Sizhui could swear he physically hears the click, and judging by his friends’ faces, they’re all realizing the same thing.

“Zizhen, I know I don’t say this often, but you’re a genius,” Jingyi declares slowly.

“I’m - huh?” Zizhen frowns, “I am? What did I say?”

“Jingyi, no,” Sizhui, who’s usually the only one quick enough to catch up with his friend’s ultrasonic thinking, “that’s going a bit overboard.”

“Oh, quite the contrary,” Jingyi smiles, “it’s perfect.”

“What is?” Zizhen demands, “what are we doing?”

“We,” Jingyi ramps up the theatrics, “are throwing ourselves a camp wedding. A veil of red and all.”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Sizhui groans.

“Wait, what?” Zizhen exclaims, scrambling to sit up better, “look, A-Qing and I just got together, I don’t... Uh, well, I mean, if it’s for the hunt...”

He receives a shove and a slap from at least two different sources, A-Qing herself laughing: “Good to know how you feel, but no.”

“Not for you,” Jingyi’s grin gains that decidedly dangerous edge, “for them.”

Sizhui doesn’t need to look to confirm who he’s pointing at, but he does so anyway, and the others do, too, and even Zizhen finally gets the point.

“Oh, you mean... Oh! Oh shit! That’s brilliant!”

Wei-Gege looks their way as if he can hear them all the way over there, and they try to look as innocuous as possible, so he only squints, and goes back to trying to explain something to a very impassive Lan-Gege, and Sizhui sighs, which he feels like he’s been doing a lot of today.

“I don’t know about this. Feels a bit forced.”

“Feels perfect, ” Jingyi won’t be deterred, “we’re doing this.”

And if Sizhui spends the last ten days of his last summer camp mitigating the fallout of that particular decision, well, then no one can say he didn’t bring it on himself.

Fifteen Years Old

“He’s been in there a long time.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Mianmian squints, “I knew within, like, fifteen seconds.”

“That’s because I put in a good word for you,” Wen Qing says, “and Lan Qiren already liked you to begin with. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand...”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have punched Wen Chao in the face,” comments Nie Huaisang, who is thirteen, and shouldn’t even be here, a fact that nobody comments on.

“If anything, that might have improved his chances,” Wen Qing speculates, “huh, Wangji?”

Wangji says nothing - he spent his meeting with his Uncle not speaking in his own favor - his position as Junior Counsellor next year has been a given for quite some time - but rather Wei Ying’s, mostly in vain, as far as he’s concerned. It’s difficult to tell, with Uncle. Every single person in this camp could vouch for Wei Wuxian, and it still wouldn’t be enough to convince Lan Qiren to invite him back next year.

“If he’s not picked, I’m not coming next year,” Jiang Cheng, also thirteen years old and also not supposed to be here, comments as if it’s some grand decision that’s going to turn the tide of fate in his big brother’s favor. “We’re going to be Counsellors together, or bust.”

“Noble,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes, and Mianmian ruffles his hair, flustering him.

“He’s going to be fine, don’t worry. He can talk circles around anybody, Lan Qiren included.”

“What’s this little gathering?”

That’s Nie Mingjue and Xichen, coming upon them sitting on the stairs of the main lodge like a band of co-conspirators, and looking very amused by the image.

“Da-Ge! Did Lan Qiren say-?”

“Not yet,” Xichen smiles, sparing a wink Wangji’s way, “but I wouldn’t worry. We all put in a good word for him.”

“Some of us more enthusiastically than others,” Nie Mingjue laughs, “but he should be fine. He’s been in there a while, huh...”

“That’s what I said,” Mianmian nods.

“Maybe they’re just disposing of his body,” Huaisang speculates cheerfully, which earns him a shove from his brother.

“Maybe this is our last moment of peace,” Wen Qing offers, “to speculate if we even want him to come back next year. Seriously, he’s going to raise hell.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Mingjue huffs.

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need,” Xichen smiles, and Wangji remains silent - unlike all the rest of them, he can’t find it in him to joke about this. He also can’t find it in him to disclose just how important it is to him that Wei Ying come back next year, but at least Xichen understands, at least-

“Hey.”

His heart punches out of his chest on that one beat, and he turns around only slowly, to see Wei Wuxian descending the stairs. Everybody jumps to their feet and hurries towards him, aside from Wangji, who feels like he’s frozen in place.

“So?” even Jiang Cheng lets the excitement be heard in his voice.

“Did you make it?” Mianmian demands, “are you in?”

“...Are you trying to keep us in suspense with that stupid sad look?” Wen Qing accuses him, and at long last, he sighs very dramatically, and puts his hand on his chest, like he’s swearing an oath.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re not going to be very happy about this,” he declares gravely, “but you are going to have to suffer me another year. And the next one after that. And the next one- whoa!”

He staggers as they jump him, erupting into cheers that turn the heads of all the other children in and around the main lodge, and Wangji finds he can’t quite move, still - he only has eyes for Wei Wuxian, staggering as Nie Mingjue claps his shoulder, laughing like a maniac as he swings both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang around, hanging off his arms like monkeys...

“Congratulations,” he manages when Wei Ying finally stands in front of him, and the smile he receives could fuel the sun.

The lanterns come later that day, and this time, it’s special for a whole lot of them - a lot of this year’s fifteen-year-olds won’t be coming back next year, but even those who will, are feeling the solemnity of the occasion. They get a handful of lanterns to decorate - not terribly safe, letting out several dozens of them to just soar over an endless forest at the height of summer - and Wei Wuxian sits by Wangji’s side, quietly painting their own, smiling to himself, uncharacteristically subdued.

“Look, Lan Zhan, look at it.”

It’s been years and years of camp experiences that will stay with him for good, emotions he doesn’t think he could feel anywhere else, but still, looking at Wei Ying’s handiwork that day, Wangji experiences something entirely new, and entirely overwhelming.

There’s a rabbit painted in gentle, expert strokes onto the nearly see-through paper of the lantern, and Wangji is instantly catapulted several years back, to Wei Wuxian painting almost the same one onto the cast on his leg, a masterpiece in bleeding sharpie, and looking at Wei Ying now, beaming at him like they haven’t aged a day, is... It’s a kind of magic, all of its own.

Everyone’s gathered on the lakeside, waiting for them to stand side by side on the crowded pier and let the lanterns fly free, hopefully not on their way to start a forest fire - Wangji is the one to light theirs, and Wei Ying and him hold it ever so carefully until it fills with enough hot air to take off.

Miraculously, so do all the others, not one of them burning down and thus ruining the moment, and everyone’s eyes follow their slightly wobbly flight, up and out over the lake and beyond.

There’s so many things Wangji wants to say, should be saying, maybe, but it all boils down to this - Wei Ying is still there next to him, and for one precious moment out of time, he’s allowed to enjoy this, with the relief of the knowledge that this isn’t over. That next year...

“You and me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian has, as always, some words of his own to say, “Junior Counsellors, if you can believe it. This time next year, we’ll be the ones making sure the kids don’t burn down the pier. It’s gonna be great, right?”

Wangji wants to reach out for him, wants to hold his hand, wants to hold him and tell him just how much this means to him, but in the end,he doesn’t need to do much more but smile, genuinely, warmly - it’s gonna be great. As long as they’re here, as long as Gusu is here, as long as the constants in his life that he cares about the most don’t change, it’s going to be great.

They sit by the bonfire afterward, and it feels momentous, feels quietly nostalgic, like tomorrow’s just the blink of an eye away, like they’re all already loading their bags into their parents’ cars and waving goodbye to Gusu, but for Wangji, it also feels right.

Hardly an ending, but a beginning, and as long as Wei Ying and him keep coming back year after year, maybe, one day, he’ll find the right words to tell him.. Everything he means to say.

That night, under the pines, the embers of the summer’s very last campfire fluttering up into the darkness like fireflies, the cheerful notes of Wei Wuxian’s harmonica join Wangji’s guitar, and they’ve got all the time in the world.

At the end of the day, it’s on him, for not figuring everything out earlier - really, the signs were all there. He should have started getting suspicious when the kids began coming to them with games of their own that they wanted to play, citing the need to enjoy their last week at camp doing what they love... And what they loved was apparently roping their Counsellors into all sorts of stupid little activities that either had them holding hands, navigating each other by touch alone when blindfolded, or just downrigh crawling over one another in the crowd favorite of Pass the Apple, the most lasicivious game known to man, or at least to camp teenagers - there is an apple, and it must travel around the circle, but the only way to achieve that is to tuck it under one’s chin, and then contort one’s body in a way so that the person sitting next to you can, yes, also take the apple from you by tucking it under their chin. There’s no using hands, no escaping the kids’ intentions when they completely innocently decide their two Counsellors absolutely must sit next to each other, and also absolutely no complaining, and Wei Wuxian isn’t all that great at either one of those things.

He’s also not that great at maintaining any sort of mental fortitude throughout being forced to constantly touch Lan Zhan like literally nobody cares that he can’t go on a second these days without thinking about touching him in very different ways- But. It is what it is, and he must suffer, for the kids’ sake.

It takes him embarrassingly long to figure out something’s fishy, but in his defense, he’s a bit preoccupied these days.

“How’s your ankle, Wei-Gege? Can you walk?” Sizhui asks, yet again the picture of purity, innocence, and hidden evil intentions, and Wei Wuxian squints at him. Everyone else is off climbing trees, or scaling rocks, or whatever Lan Zhan is having them do in the name of finding some sort of clue for the game he’s devised, and on account of his slow-healing injury, Wei Wuxian gets to just sit back and observe, for now.

“You know exactly how it is,” he says, “I’m not gonna lose the foot, but I can’t exactly chase you around the forest for asking weird questions. Why aren’t you with the others?”

“Oh I already finished,” Sizhui smiles, somehow innocent and mysterious at the same time, “I thought I’d come keep you company.”

“Well, that’s incredibly sweet of you, if I believed you. What’s really going on?”

“What?” Sizhui has the gentle puppy eyes down pat, “camp’s going to be over soon, we all want to spend as much time with you as possible-”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s very sweet,” Wei Wuxian scowls at him, “now tell me what you want.”

“Ugh,” Sizhui actually groans, “Jingyi, I can’t do this. You come talk to him.”

To Wei Wuxian’s astonishment, Jingyi appears legitimately out of nowhere, plopping down on the ground next to them without so much as a by your leave.

“Hello,” he announces himself.

“Hello, Jingyi. Well, this is interesting. What the hell are you two up to, huh?”

“Wei-Gege, let me ask you a very important question,” Jingyi begins broadly - give him a mic and a suit and he has all the makings of a public speaker, so Wei Wuxian knows to brace himself. “You like us a lot, right?”

“We’ll see after this,” he mutters.

“You want to see us succeed. You want to make sure we leave Gusu happy, and satisfied, and just chock-full of good memories, don’t you?”

“Theoretically speaking,” Wei Wuxian says slowly.

“Good enough. So if we were to ask you for help with something that directly impacts our happiness, you couldn’t exactly refuse, now could you?”

“That depends,” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

“On?”

“On whether or not helping you will land me in jail.”

“Now now, Wei-Gege,” Jingyi shakes his head, “you know us. We wouldn’t dare do anything against the rules.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is actually following the rules! We think we finally figured out a way to get our hands on one of the very last scavenger hunt trophies-”

“Ah ah ah,” Wei Wuxian waggles his finger at him, “you know I can’t help you with that, Nie Huaisang would have my head. I was already pushing my luck, taking you to the Lotus Lake. Besides, you’re so close! You’ve got to figure it out on your own now!”

“But we have!” Jingyi ramps up the desperation, while Sizhui next to him can be seen discreetly rolling his eyes. “We’re pretty sure we know exactly what Nie-Gege wants from us, but we can’t make it happen without your help.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Wei Wuxian says dryly, “you’ve been doing just fine on your own up until now. What’s so damn impossible that you can’t pull it off yourselves, huh? Tell me.”

Jingyi tells him.

Wei Wuxian laughs so loudly, so honestly, he thinks he can hear the rabbits in the hills spooking and running away.

“Look, I’m very sorry, but all bets are off. Literally - it’s too late now. We can only wait and see for ourselves how the fates decide to let this one play out-”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng hisses, “could we please not talk about my brother’s love life-”

“Or lack thereof...”

“Or lack thereof, like it’s some cheesy soap opera we’re all dying to find out the ending of?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I was under the impression that that’s all we’ve been doing for weeks now,” Mianmian points out, joining them at their table, peeking over Huaisang’s shoulder at his very meticulous list of people who did think it prudent to place a bet on the trajectory of Wei Wuxian’s inevitable downfall.

“Exactly, thank you. And you-” he jabs one finger into Jiang Cheng’s chest, “should have bet while you still had the chance.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng insists, “I know him the best out of all of you, and I’m telling you, he’s too chicken to do anything. You’ll see.”

“Haven’t you two lived apart for years now?” Huaisang points out completely innocently, like he doesn’t know exactly how uncomfortable a reminder that is for Jiang Cheng. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“Doubtful,” Jiang Cheng says sourly.

Wen Qing only makes room for him to sit with them, and wisely decides not to comment - she could call them all idiots, and the whole thing silly, but a) she has actual real life money riding on it, and b) she’s not above watching other people’s minor misery be turned into profit. There’s only so much one can do for one’s friends, only so much sense one can try talking into them - if they elect, time and time again, to be dumb instead and suffer in pining silence, then she might as well not waste her breath anymore, and let the fates, as Huaisang puts it, play out.

“Oh Huaisang! Where are you so I can kill you?!”

The singsong voice coming from the hallway is unmistakably Wei Wuxian’s, and Huaisang, who’s used to regular attempts on his life at this point, simply echoes back: “Right here, baby!”, and Wei Wuxian comes hobble-storming in, his uneven limp stealing some ferocity from his angry stomping. A-Ning is by his side, clearly attempting to at least help him not fall on his face, to no avail. Wen Qing waves him over, and he rolls his eyes very politely when she silently asks him what’s going on.

“There you are!” Wei Wuxian snarls, half seriously, and Huaisang offers up his most beatific smile.

“Here I am! Whatever’s the matter?”

Wei Wuxian seems to hesitate, but only minutely, when he sees everyone else sitting around, perfectly ready for their next episode of this particular soap opera.

“Oh, I don’t know. Do the words veil of red ring any bells?”

“Aw,” Huaisang half smiles, half pouts, “so they figured it out, huh?”

“Figured out what?” Mianmian wonders, then immediately remembers: “Oh, shit, right. They did? We couldn’t even figure it out.”

To say that the scavenger hunt has become a staple of this summer would be vastly underselling its sheer impact on the kids’ - and by extension their Counsellors’ - everyday life. At this point, with only a week to go, every single one of them as they’re sitting here has had to deal with the kids trying to come to them for help and having to subsequently refuse them, while pretending not to be intrigued themselves - Huaisang really has done an impressive job of keeping everyone in suspense, and the kids grasping at straws when it comes to the last handful of as-of-yet-undiscovered trophies.

“Well, I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian throws his hands up in the air, clearly frustrated about something, “if coming up to me and asking me to take part in a camp wedding counts as figuring it out, then sure.”

“A camp wedding,” Jiang Cheng repeats dryly, while Wen Qing and Mianmian need only to exchange a single look, and look at A-Ning already snickering to himself, to burst into laughter.

“Oh, this is too good,” Mianmian leans forward, “please tell me you said yes.”

“Red is your color,” Wen Qing adds.

“Haha, very funny. Extremely funny,” Wei Wuxian whines, “Huaisang, please tell me it has nothing to do with... you know. A wedding veil.”

Everyone looks at their sneakiest Junior Counsellor expectantly - for all the world to see, he’s just air-conditioning himself lazily with his ubiquitous fan, but there’s a devil in disguise behind that smile.

“Nope,” he says simply, “it’s a wedding. I’m surprised it took them this long to figure it out. You want me to officiate?”

“I am not,” Wei Wuxian starts out loud, only to belatedly realize they’re not alone in the dining hall, and he slides onto a free chair among them, continuing in a hushed voice: “I am not actually going to do this, are you kidding me?!”

“Aw, why not?” Huaisang inclines his head.

“Camp weddings are always so nice!” A-Ning points out.

“Afraid of commitment, like always,” Jiang Cheng sighs solemnly.

“Yeah, Wei Wuxian, why not?” Wen Qing adds, deciding to go along with the fun.

“You wanna break your fiance’s heart?” Mianmian offers, which finally has all of them breaking, and bursting into laughter, while Wei Wuxian looks like a little heaping of misery.

“Hilarious,” he says, deadpan, “fucking hilarious. I hate you guys.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Huaisang pats his shoulder, “we could use something to spice things up before the last night. And believe it or not, I actually do want the kids to finish the damn hunt, the finale is pretty cool.”

They’ve got a couple of evenings to go before the very last one, which is always special, what with the bonfire and the lanterns and everything else, and while the older kids would probably be happy enough to just sit around and/or play soccer until their legs fall off, an unexpected little event might be fun, Wen Qing thinks.

“So the sooner the better, is what you’re saying,” Mianmian seems to be reading her mind, as always, and their wolfish smiles are a perfect mirror of one another when Wei Wuxian groans, letting his head hit the table.

“Absolutely,” Huaisang nods.

“I changed my mind,” Wei Wuxian announces, dragging his hands down his face, “I’m quitting right now. I’m packing my things and I’m walking outta here.”

“Don’t you dare pull a runaway bride!” Huaisang scolds him.

“How am I the bride in this situation?”

“How are you not?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, elbowing him in the side.

“What are we talking about?”

That’s Xichen, and yes, to everyone’s barely contained amusement, Wangji by his side, coming to sit with them for a precious few moments before they have to go ring the goodnight bell, and also to everyone’s amusement, Wei Wuxian jumps like he’s been electrocuted when he sees them.

“Nothing!” he cries out, “absolutely nothing of importance, right guys?”

“Uh-huh,” Xichen regards him with a quiet amusement of his own, “completely unrelated, I’m sure, but does anyone know why Jingyi and company came to me asking if I’m willing and able to officiate a wedding on camp premises?”

And that’s more than enough for all of them to burst into genuinely gleeful laughter, even though Wen Qing can see Wei Wuxian peeking at Wangji through his fingers still hiding most of his face - he’s quite literally saved by the bell in that instance, because all their various alarms ring, announcing the time to go out and wish the kids goodnight, and they never really end up talking about it in too much detail that day.

It’s clear to everyone, Wen Qing thinks, that if anyone is to go through this for the kids’ sake, it’s probably not going to be Wangji and Wei Wuxian - oh, the children would no doubt enjoy it, as would everyone else, but those two can barely handle being in the same room for more than five minutes, let alone survive the incredible emotional turmoil of pretending to get married.

Nonetheless, the idea gains traction - that very next day, Wen Qing herself has to suffer the onslaught of Mianmian’s youngest kids, who, bless their little heteronormative hearts, think Wen Qing should be the one to marry Wei Wuxian, and then, when that meets with stalwart refusal, come up with the unlikely and incredibly odd pairing of Mianmian and Wangji... It’s a mess, but fortunately a hilarious one, and what’s more, it gives Wen Qing an idea. Several, in fact.

Yet again, Wangji is reminded, and rather forcefully, that camp in general, the lifestyle, the atmosphere, the wild concentrated little universe they’ve all been living in, makes for some incredibly unexpected turns of events.

Camp weddings are not something their Uncle would ever have allowed to happen, if only for the sheer chaos of the idea - seemingly out of nowhere, the kids simply decide to go to work, and before he knows it, things are being organized, and decorated, and for this, he’s just glad he’s on the sidelines.

“I’m... happy for you?” he decides to go the easy way when he’s told, and Wen Qing, for her part, looks as unperturbed as ever.

“Thanks. Never thought it’d go like this, but you know what, until they legalize the real thing, this is as good as it gets. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Would you play something at the, and I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, reception?”

Wangji stares.

“You understand I’m saving your life by asking you before the children swarm you with other duties.”

Wangji, thinking of Xichen having agreed to officiating the entire show while wearing some sort of no doubt ridiculous costume the children will have come up with for him, only shrugs.

“I suppose. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something peppy, kinda cheesy, to really sell it. Why don’t you ask Wei Wuxian and you two come up with something, I already told him he could do it, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Wangji comments, and tries his very best to glare past that air of benevolent indifference - but Wen Qing is simply too good, and he will never be able to prove she’s doing anything on purpose.

He’s neither blind nor stupid, so he knows exactly who the first happy couple were on the kids’ minds, and he’s only endlessly grateful Wen Qing and Mianmian stepped up before anyone could actually force him to wear a veil of red with Wei Wuxian by his side. He’s never shied away from going above and beyond the call of duty to help out the kids and indulge them, if subtly, in any and all ridiculous ideas they might come up with, but this is a bit too much even for him. Once it gets too personal, once the children start getting too involved, their excitement needs to be nipped in the bud - some barriers must be maintained between them and the Counsellors, no matter how they might want to imagine otherwise.

It doesn’t help that they’re, as one might say, right on the money. Wei Ying and him have... not exactly come to an agreement of any sort, but rather seem to have picked up where they left off right before the unfortunate trip, and Wangji can’t really tell how or why - doesn’t mean he isn’t at the same time endlessly relieved, and incredibly anxious about hoping for anything.

There’s no telling that Wei Wuxian won’t run away the second camp ends, disappear without a trace again - Wangji would like to think he won’t let it happen, figure out a way to convince Wei Ying that he doesn’t have to always run, but it seems he’s set himself up for disappointment before, and he’s incredibly wary of doing it again, especially if everyone, the oldest children included, really is watching...

All of his doubts, of course, seem to fade the second he all but lays his eyes on Wei Ying these days - this time, he finds him enjoying a rare moment of solitude, officially meant to be overseeing their charges’ dishwashing duties... Can’t do a whole lot of that from inside the lodge, very far away from anywhere near the ancient basins out back, but Wangji can clearly hear Granny Wen commanding her small army of teenagers to do their job, much more effectively than Wei Ying or him could ever do, so he knows he has nothing to worry about.

He thinks about announcing himself, from across the empty dining hall, but he gets to watch instead - Wei Ying sits curled up on himself in the far corner, one knee tucked under his chin, and he scribbles wildly on a seemingly random sheet of paper... No, actual sheet music.

Wangji has always thought... well, he’s always known Wei Wuxian was talented, in a determined but reckless sort of way, and obviously he can read notations, but to see him writing them down, on staffs he seems to have outlined himself no less, is an experience Wangji never would have thought could be so transformative.

He adores Wei Ying with every fibre of his being, which is a somewhat odd realization, confirmation, feeling to be having in the middle of the day, right here, right now, but it’s not like Wangji has had any sort of control over his heart lately.

“Wei Ying.”

Oh, apparently he said that out loud, because Wei Wuxian raises his head to look at him, and actually smiles when he sees him, albeit somewhat uncertainly still, and Wangji thinks, completely casually, I could burn down the world for you.

Which, okay, inconvenient, but really, at this point, what’re you gonna do.

“Oh, Lan Zhan. Hey! The kids are almost finished, I swear, I just had to write this down before I forgot...”

“Are you... composing?” Wangji asks, having somehow wandered closer, and thus gaining the opportunity to really look at Wei Ying’s handiwork - his notations aren’t uniform in the least, but the whole thing still looks surprisingly neat, and Wangji is going to combust on the spot.

“What, this?” Wei Wuxian guffaws, “don’t be ridiculous, no, I’m just... Writing down some stuff. Ripping off some wedding marches, you know, for... the thing. Wen Qing actually asked me to-”

“I know,” Wangji interrupts him, “she asked me, too.”

“Oh, uh... She did?” Wei Wuxian scratches the back of his neck, “well, that’s... I mean, you do it. Yeah, the guitar is going to sound so much better, anyway. You go ahead, I’ll just scrap these-”

Wangji can’t explain it to him, might never find the right words to explain it to him - to tell him about the hours upon hours he’s spent in music lessons over the years, perfecting his fingerwork, perfecting his harmonies and his rhythm, performing across auditoriums and practicing in the quiet of his room...

And how he was never fully satisfied, never truly happy with the sound of the instrument, never could fabricate or reenact that same effortless joy with which he’d play his guitar when sitting by the campfire. When playing a handful or repetitive, simple chords to match dozens of mismatched voices. When accompanied by a harmonica.

“No,” he says, and he says it perhaps a bit too firmly, slapping his hand onto the table with the sheet music, as if to protect it, because Wei Ying huffs his surprise, looking at him differently.

“No?”

How can I explain to you, in the simplest possible terms, without scaring you off for good, that you’ve been my missing piece all his time?

“I think,” Wangji manages to speak very calmly, considering the absolute turmoil going on inside of him, “she wanted us to do it together.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips move soundlessly, as if he’s repeating his words to himself, and he looks from Wangji to his hand on the table, and then he chuckles to himself, and then he laughs.

“Lan Zhan, ah Lan Zhan,” his name sounds like the fondest endearment coming from Wei Ying, “I’m pretty sure you’re right. I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

He’s better off without me.

Wangji could get angry with him, and rightfully so, for still not getting it, for still insisting he’s a burden on anybody, but he decides to act instead - simply sits down next to him, not leaving any space whatsoever for an argument, and points at the sheet music.

“Show me what you’ve got so far,” he all but orders him, and Wei Ying watches him almost warily for a moment, like he’s just waiting for the inevitable rejection to come, but when it doesn’t happen, when Wangji only sits there expectantly, he huffs a short laugh and shakes his head.

“If you’re sure,” he shrugs.

“I’m sure.”

And I’ll wait for you to be sure, too.

Gods bless him, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to just have fun. All it really takes is the kids being themselves - seemingly no time at all passes between them first running up to him and asking him to officiate a camp wedding, and the actual day of, and Xichen realizes he’s spent the hours of preparations leading up to it not worrying about a single thing aside from coming up with what he’s going to say, and vetoing version after ridiculous version of the costume the kids want him to wear.

This, as far as he’s concerned, is where the true magic of camp lies - forgetting about the real world out there, if only for a day or two, and surrendering yourself completely to whatever the collective creativity of dozens of children and their Counsellors manages to bring your way.

It makes sense, then, that the wedding quickly becomes an event - they set time aside for it over the course of one afternoon, and seemingly every single kid wants to be a part of the preparations. The little ones come up with decorations or help Granny Wen make snacks, while the oldest ones take charge of organizing everybody else, until the entire campsite runs on one airtight itinerary professional wedding planners would no doubt envy.

The lodge attic has turned out to be a treasure trove of all sorts of material yet again, and so there is not only a makeshift stage now being erected by the fire pit, but also red paper lanterns hanging in the trees, and an entire dedicated group of Huaisang’s best artists creating flowers out of crepe paper...

Xichen sticks their good campsite camera into Wen Ning’s hands and makes sure he documents it all, and decides to just enjoy it.

“I always knew you’d be the first one out of all of us to tie the knot,” he comments, “just didn’t expect it to be this quick.”

“Gotta take what you can get,” Mianmian says sagely, helping her camp-wife-to-be figure out her hair, and Wen Qing rolls her eyes.

“Ever the romantic, this one. But yeah, who knows when we’ll get our second, legal chance.”

“This one counts just as much, as far as I’m concerned,” Mianmian decides, pressing that conviction alongside a kiss to Wen Qing’s cheek.

“You’re absolutely right,” Xichen smiles, “isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the actual wedding, though?”

“Heteronormative bullshit,” Wen Qing waves her hand, “and it only applies to a groom, anyway.”

“Twice the bride, twice the luck,” Mianmian adds.

“Clearly,” Xichen laughs, “well, thank you for going along with it. Feels like just the thing we needed right now.”

Wen Qing casts him a look in the mirror she’s sitting in front of, but it goes alongside a smile.

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Plus, we probably saved Wei Wuxian an ulcer,” Mianmian points out.

“Could have let him squirm a little longer,” Wen Qing counters, and Xichen can’t really argue with either sentiment - it was very funny watching Wei Wuxian bring the news of what the kids meant to do to get that coveted scavenger hunt trophy, and figure out how exactly they wanted to do it, but at the end of the day, it was obvious to everyone that they couldn’t make Wangji and him do it no matter how hard they tried.

Xichen himself has only had very little luck extracting any sort of information from his brother regarding... whatever’s been going on between the two of them, but one thing is very clear - neither Wangji nor Wei Wuxian seem to have found the right words yet to describe what everyone else can see without even really trying, and there’s only so much help anyone can offer them.

No, if they want to leave Gusu happier than they arrived here, then they’re going to have to do all the hard work themselves, no matter how many gentle pushes or not so gentle comments their friends might direct their way. Xichen doesn’t enjoy the sight of his brother suffering, but he’s tried his best, everything short of locking the two of them in a cramped space and letting things take their course, and if there’s no budging Wangji or Wei Wuxian for that matter... Well, perhaps there’s just no budging them, period.

Xichen only wishes he didn’t have to watch the way they look at each other when they think the other one isn’t looking, didn’t have to see Wei Wuxian purposefully making himself seem all breezy and irreverently peppy, when that’s what hurts Wangji the most...

But, again, not his place. Not something to worry about extensively now, when there’s so much positive energy flowing through the campsite otherwise.

Besides, maybe it just might be as simple as forcing the two of them to play together again - Wen Qing had the frankly brilliant idea to saddle both Wangji and Wei Wuxian with providing music for the “reception”, and they tackled the task with a seriousness and professionalism nobody expected... Well, nobody expected out of at least one of them.

The melodies, sometimes mismatched, sometimes lovely, of their respective instruments have been a constant backdrop of the preparations, and now that Xichen actually motions them to start playing for the real thing, he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that what arrives is something really lovely.

Wangji’s guitar starts out alone, just a simple fingerpicked tune that grows into something more complicated, which is when Wei Wuxian’s harmonica joins in - its usual cheerful trill is a bit more subdued, has an almost keening quality to it, and everyone forgets for a moment that there’s an actual makeshift ceremony going on, simply watching the two sitting side by side, probably lost in a world of their own.

It’s only Huaisang making silent but very firm motions at Xichen from across the crowd, that succeeds at spurring him into action, and he thinks, no matter what, that he will remember this little moment out of time for good.

Both Wen Qing and Mianmian really do wear a veil of red, or some variation thereof, and as Xichen reads the little speech he’s prepared for them, he’s reading it, really, to all of them - as he shares with the kids some of the funnier stories of when the brides-to-be were kids themselves, from Wen Qing’s propensity to carry colorful bandaids with her everywhere already at the tender age of six, to Mianmian’s horrible luck with the old wooden pier, specifically her likelihood to slip off it and fall into the lake at any given point in time, as he hears everyone’s laughter and sees his friends discreetly rolling their eyes, as he notices Wei Wuxian leaning in and whispering something to Wangji, at which his brother proceeds to smile...

Xichen is reminded - and it turns out he sorely needed that reminder - that this is it. This is why they do it - the creativity of the children coming back here year after year, yes, but also their own memories, their own lifetimes condensed into these weeks of summer. 

Wen Qing’s incredibly demanding medicine studies, set aside and utilized at the same time, to take care of these kids with inexhaustible patience. Mianmian’s fiery determination to teach even the tiniest children about the importance of protecting the nature around them. Huaisang’s budding art degree showing in everything he does for the children, everything he comes up with, from the scavenger hunt to the crepe paper roses decorating every available surface right now.

Jiang Cheng’s absolute dedication to teaching the kids right from wrong, teaching them to stand up for themselves and fight even when they feel like it the least, one demanding sports match or field activity at a time. Wen Ning’s unshakeable belief in the genius loci of Gusu, his bottomless kindness, his very presence here proof enough that Gusu kids grow up good, and grow up to come back, year after year.

Wangji’s quiet, peerless, bulletproof devotion to this little world they’ve built, to everything it represents, to everything it might still be... Even Wei Wuxian’s ability to come back after years apart, and fit right back in, like the only confirmation anyone needs that this place stays with everyone who ever came through here.

All of it becoming the lifeforce of Gusu, the heartbeat of the forest around them, the energy rekindled time and time again in these empty rooms and quiet corners, slumbering all year long until summer comes... It should be enough. It must be enough, for anyone still doubting the need for the continued existence of this place, and for that one cheerful afternoon out of time, Xichen is absolutely, thoroughly convinced it will be.

“Alright, let’s see, what else is there...” he gives the children the opportunity to holler at him at the end of his speech - it feels like it simultaneously took thirty seconds (which it probably did), and a lifetime, what with the wealth of realizations going on under the surface as he was saying it, and laughter bubbles up in his throat easily enough as the kids all but shout the answer at him.

“What’s that? Oh, right, yes, of course! I believe you may kiss the bride now.”

The applause and whooping and laughter meld into one big wall of joyful noise, especially when Wei Wuxian’s harmonica can be heard improvising a quick take on a well-known wedding march tune, and it takes everyone a moment to notice that Xichen has stepped aside, to let Huaisang climb the stage - the oldest boys catch sight of it, though, and they make quick work of quieting down the shouting and clapping masses.

“Alright, alright, everyone, yes, it’s me,” Huaisang says with his usual flair, “you’ll excuse the interruption, but before we can send the happy brides on their well-deserved honeymoon-”

“I wish!” Mianmian comments.

“-there’s one more matter to attend to. Yes, Jingyi, I’m getting there. As you all know, this little extravaganza marks the successful completion of one of the very last scavenger hunt trophies, and- ”

A murmur passes through the crowd when he whips out one of those coveted, incredibly mysterious playing cards, and Jingyi can be seen all but jumping up and down with excitement.

“I believe this is well deserved. Come on, come get it.”

“And there’s snacks in the dining hall, everyone!” Xichen calls out over the general merriment, and then the mass of children is moving this way and that, which signals his time to retreat - not before there’s pictures, of course, since his very fancy robes Huaisang put together apparently warrant appearing in photographs alongside quite a number of excited children, not to mention the brides themselves want to commemorate the occasion...

By the time he’s climbing the stairs to his room to change, there’s a grin permanently stuck to his face, and he’s fairly certain he hasn’t laughed like this in ages.

Which is why, when he hears the phone he’s left behind ringing, and sees the name of the caller, he picks up with gusto.

“Mingjue! Hi!” he laughs.

“Xichen, finally. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.”

“Sorry, sorry, we had a thing! I’ll send you the pictures, it was amazing. What’s up?”

“Judging by your boundless optimism, I’m guessing he isn’t there yet.”

Xichen’s fingers stop trying in vain to undo the sash of heavy fabric tied around his waist.

“Who isn’t here yet?”

“God, fuck. I’m sorry, Xichen, I tried warning you in time, I swear, but I literally learned an hour ago, and I don’t even have the time to come over right now-”

But Xichen is only half listening to him, because he hears the unmistakable sound of a car approaching - by the time he looks out of his tiny attic window, he can see it circling to park in front of the lodge, so very polished and sleek, so very out of place...

His heart doesn’t even have time to properly drop, because he acts on instinct alone, and his feet carry him back down the stairs and outside in a flash, before he can stop to think, stop to breathe - he realizes the terror he feels, at how wrong this is, at how ill-timed, why now, not now, please, we still have days to go...

But he can only stand there and watch as a driver exits the car, walks over to the rear without a single regard for Xichen, and opens the door - the man folds himself out of the seat with boundless, ridiculous elegance, his dark suit and lacquered horrible shoes a painful contrast with the dusty forest floor, carpeted with pine needles, and the look he casts Xichen isn’t scrutinizing, so much as it is full of quiet judgment.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

It’s only then that Xichen realizes he did not, in fact, have the time to change out of his silly wedding official robe, and a part of him wants to laugh, but it’s firmly snuffed out by the other, much more worried part of him.

He takes a steadying breath - it doesn’t do much for him - and tries to save his dignity by looking Lan Qiren firmly in the eye, and smiling.

“Uncle,” he says as calmly as he can humanly manage, given the circumstances, “welcome back.”

Chapter Text

“Wei Wuxian, for once in your life, shut up.”

“I can’t just - they’ve been up there for, like, an hour!” Wei Wuxian can be seen decidedly not shutting up, but rather pacing the length of the kitchen where they’re all currently hiding, too many people in too small a space, agitation propelling him forward like a hamster in its wheel.

“What if he’s, I don’t know, telling them something horrible-”

“Undoubtedly,” Jiang Cheng mutters darkly.

“-and it’s something we could help with, if we were actually there?”

“If you step foot anywhere near there, I’m sure it will expedite matters, one way or another,” Wen Qing says, and chooses an opportune moment to forcibly press him into the nearest chair as he’s passing it. 

“Calm down,” she orders him, “all we can do right now is wait.”

Not that either one of them as they are in the room right now is particularly happy about that - what was a pretty amazing afternoon, turned tense really quickly with the arrival of, in keeping with this year’s theme, yet another unexpected guest in the form of Xichen’s and Wangji’s Uncle Lan Qiren, a face all of them remember, and not many of them were hoping to see ever again.

Wen Qing supposes the story is in need of a good culmination, and if they’re to finish this summer in one piece, they might as well finish it with a bang, it seems.

Unlike Wei Wuxian, she doesn’t think Lan Qiren will drive a bulldozer through the campsite, leveling it with an evil smirk on his face - it used to be that the man was actually approachable, if one knew how to talk to him, to make him feel sufficiently important, and she’s already planning on finding an opportune moment to try and speak to him herself, when her phone rings, and one look at the name of the caller has her strangely excited.

“Hi, uh... Alright, everyone, shut up,” she flails her hands vaguely in Wei Wuxian’s direction, “Nie- xiong, hi. It’s... good to hear from you, I suppose? I’m putting you on loudspeaker.”

“Da-ge!” Huaisang hollers immediately, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I did, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue sounds somewhat tired, “you’d have to have your phone on you, though. Hi, everyone. Since Xichen isn’t picking up either, I’m guessing we’ve got a Lan Qiren situation on our hands?”

“They’ve been locked in Xichen’s office for ages now,” Wen Qing says.

“God. I tried to warn you all in time, I really did.”

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,” Wen Qing sighs, “we’ll deal with it somehow.”

“You don’t have to deal with it on your own, actually,” Nie Mingjue’s voice is urgent, and Wen Qing can just imagine him stealing time away from his work to hide in his office, calling from across state lines to check in on Gusu, no doubt utterly inconsequential as far as his job goes, but still important to him...

“What do you mean?” Huaisang leans in closer, like his brother is sitting in their midst and they’re all just conspiring about an afternoon activity for the kids.

“I mean I need you to stall him. Make him tea, show him around the campsite, drag it out until tomorrow. I’m sure he’s already renting a room in the city or something, but he doesn’t want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary. Make him. I’ll finish up here and I’ll come over as soon as I can, I just gotta pick up... ugh, you’ll see.”

“What,” Huaisang is grinning now, looking positively elated. “Da-ge, what! What are you planning?”

“I’m planning nothing. Or rather, we’ve finished planning. Just tell Xichen not to sign anything, and don’t do anything to piss off the old man, alright? I’ll call again later - okay, yeah, I have to go now. Tell Xichen to call me!”

And as suddenly as he greeted them, he disappears again, and they’re all left staring at each other in varying amounts of disbelief, or, in Huaisang’s case for example, utter delight.

“This is great,” he announces, “didn’t I tell ya? Da-ge to save the day.”

“Didn’t exactly tell us how he’s going to save it, though,” Jiang Cheng points out sourly.

“Well, if he’s coming over, things will definitely happen,” Huaisang maintains, “amazing things.”

“Right,” Wen Qing huffs, “whether he’s coming or not, he’s got a point - we should make sure we don’t piss off Lan Qiren more than necessary.”

“You’re so right,” Mianmian says, and she sounds a bit too strained. “On that note, where the hell is Wei Wuxian?”

He remembers being twelve years old, and talking so much at what was then the usual morning roll call that Lan Qiren simply couldn’t stand it anymore, and tossed his (empty) travel mug at him from across the square, narrowly missing him and only providing ample opportunity for stifled laughter...

He also remembers being thirteen and somehow ending up being blamed for Lan Zhan’s broken leg, down there in the damp dark terrifying cave, and not even disputing it...

He remembers being fourteen, then fifteen, and the reprimands getting harsher and harsher, the amounts of time he spent mopping up the dining hall or standing guard at the main lodge as punishment for generally being alive after curfew getting longer and longer.

He definitely remembers being sixteen and glaring the old man down, the nerves not having reached and altered his stupid reckless teenage bravado just yet, and he remembers saying something idiotic like thanks a bunch when Lan Qiren sealed his fate and kicked him out of Gusu for good.

All of those memories resurface the second he sees the man’s face again after all these years, but it’s got nothing on seeing Lan Zhan’s face in response - Lan Zhan, always so calm and collected, looks shocked first, angry second, but there’s also an undercurrent there of something Wei Wuxian recognizes far too well. He’s worried, and Wei Wuxian didn’t really need another reason to be sour about Lan Qiren’s general existence, but this still pisses him off - they were doing so good, Lan Zhan and him, coming up with their music, playing it together, decidedly not letting their relief show about not having to be the ones to get fake-camp-married...

And here comes Lan Qiren, riding in and ruining everything Wei Wuxian... didn’t really work hard for, didn’t lift a finger for in fact aside from running from himself, but still. Something of the peace at Gusu shatters irrevocably that afternoon.

It doesn’t help that he can’t even talk about it to Lan Zhan, ask him what’s going to happen, support him, anything, before he’s marching to his Uncle’s side alongside their illustrious Camp Leader, and they both somehow look years younger and having aged a decade at the same time, and then all three of them disappear, and who’s to say it isn’t for good?

And Wei Wuxian starts worrying - it doesn’t come all at once, he even laughs about it at first when he meets with the others, did I really see who I think I saw?, but then someone points out, well, if he saw it fit to personally come all the way out here, it must be serious, and then Wei Wuxian becomes anxious.

He’s not even personally afraid - there’s nothing old man Lan can do or say to him now to rattle him, nothing he hasn’t been repeating to himself all this time anyway - but the reality of it suddenly hits him.

It’s been years, for Lan Zhan and his brother, years of trying to make this work on their own, of doing a damn good job at it too, and still people insist they know better than them? It’s surreal to him that anyone could stand under these pines and listen to the sounds of this forest, especially people who came through here on more than one occasion, and not want to do anything in their power to keep it going.

Plus, he really hates the sight of Lan Zhan unhappy and stressed, it turns out.

So it’s only natural that when others can only talk at length about what’s going to happen, or has already happened, Wei Wuxian sees it fit to act.

Alright, so it isn’t one of his smarter decisions - in fact, he doesn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about it at all. He’s sitting smushed in the kitchen with everyone one second, and then marching up the stairs to Lan Xichen’s office the next, and does he know what he’s going to do or say? Not really. Does he stand a chance of stopping in time, turning around and walking away? Also unlikely.

He does consider knocking before barging in, but he doesn’t get that opportunity, either - just as he’s raising his hand to extend the Lans the barest possible hint of politeness, the door flies open, and he all but collides with-

“Whoa, Lan Zhan! Slow down!”

Lan Zhan glares at him powerfully enough to set him ablaze for a second, like he can’t really believe Wei Wuxian is standing in front of him, but then he sighs, and Wei Wuxian immediately knows just how well their talk with Lan Qiren must have gone.

“Wei Ying,” he says tersely, “what are you doing here?”

“Is everything alright down there?” Xichen hollers from inside, and behind Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian catches the sight of his face, and the sight of Lan Qiren with his arms folded behind his back and looking out the tiny attic window, and everything is instantly clear - they’re dying for a distraction.

“Well, actually,” he spurs his brain into a mad dash to come up with the most plausible excuse, “Wen Qing wants to see you, Xichen-xiong-” gotta play up the honorifics in front of the old man, he recalls, “about a, uh... I think she said something about some kid’s weird doctor’s note, anyway, she’s waiting downstairs, says it’s urgent. And, uhh, Lan Zhan, I was wondering, if you guys are done now, if you could help me with that, uhh... thing... we wanted to do...”

His imagination and words fail him sooner than expected because Lan Qiren whips around to direct his seasoned lawyer’s piercing eyes at him now, and what do you know, apparently a part of him still is twelve years old, and nervous and defiant at the same time.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren says slowly, ignoring both his nephews’ unvoiced protests and walking up to him, “I was so sure Xichen was joking when he told me he’d hired you, but here you are.”

“Here I am,” Wei Wuxian forces a polite, perfectly cold smile, “it’s good to see you again, sir.”

“Hmph,” Lan Qiren scoffs, “if it were up to me, you would not have stepped foot anywhere near here again.”

“Well then, I suppose it’s a good thing it isn’t up to you anymore. Sir.”

He knows it before he says it, that it’s too much, but the troublemaker in him simply takes over for a hot second and relishes in the thoroughly offended huff his words make Lan Qiren produce - he mellows out somewhat at the sight of Xichen’s smile freezing behind his Uncle’s back, and even feels the tiniest tinge of remorse when he sees Lan Zhan’s jaw set tight, but there’s no backing out now.

“You-!” Lan Qiren snarls, taking a step closer, only to meet with Wei Wuxian’s most beatific, innocent smile - it doesn’t deter him much, though. “I don’t know what possessed everyone here to lose their collective minds, and I certainly don’t understand how having you back is in any way good for Gusu, no matter what both my nephews-” Xichen can be seen wordlessly wincing, and Lan Zhan’s glare is growing positively ballistic, “have been trying to convince me of, but I know this.”

They’re eleven years old, and Wei Wuxian happens to pass by Lan Zhan’s cabin at lunch recess, and overhears his Uncle scolding him for some thoroughly menial matter, and spends the next hour trying to cheer him up even though his ever-so-serious friend has retreated further into himself than he’s ever seen him.

“It is in everyone’s best interest to finish this year smoothly, no matter what happens to Gusu over the course of the next one, but if I have to fend off one more notice from the Camp Association about our paperwork not being up to par because of one wayward scoundrel of a Counsellor, I will see to it that all this is over much quicker.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to offer a fiery reply, even as his heart is now frantically hammering against his ribcage for whatever reason, even as his head is spinning with everything he’s not being told behind those words of Lan Qiren’s, but then he sees the tiniest cue from Lan Zhan, not even a headshake, nothing beyond a feeling he senses from him - please don’t.

So he does what he does best, and ramps up his smile to a truly blinding display, before going so far as to bow his head.

“I understand you’re worried, Lan-zong,” he says with as much calm as he can muster, “and I would hate to think that it’s my presence here that threatens anything-”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan attempts to interrupt, but Wei Wuxian acts quickly, his hand shooting to Lan Zhan’s wrist to steady him, a fact Lan Qiren zeroes in on like a hawk.

“But maybe it would be good of you to spend some time with us here, to see that we all want what’s best for Gusu.”

Xichen, who probably expected anything but those words to come out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, narrows his eyes at him, and Wei Wuxian only wishes he could shoot him a thumbs up. Don’t worry.

“Dinner will be served soon,” he says in his nicest, most deferent tone, “why don’t you join us for it, and we can talk about this later, all of us. I imagine it would be beneficial to you to hear everyone’s opinion on the matter - you’re absolutely right that finishing this year well is on everyone’s minds.”

Lan Qiren continues to glare, no doubt a second away from blowing up at him again, but then Xichen is at his side, using all of his considerable weaponized kindness to make him stand down.

“Shufu,” he says, “let’s go down now. We can talk more after dinner. I have to be present, and Wangji has kitchen duty...”

Some unspoken agreement is reached between the brothers, and before Wei Wuxian knows it, Lan Zhan is bodily dragging him towards a kitchen duty he certainly doesn’t have, and away from Lan Qiren, who is now subject to Xichen working his charms on him, enough to make him descend among the peasants for the aforementioned dinner, at least.

“Holy shit,” Wei Wuxian comments the second they’re probably out of earshot, “Lan Zhan, are you okay? He has not changed one bit, huh?”

“No. I’m fine. You came right on time, in fact, thank you.”

“Ri-ight,” Wei Wuxian squints at him - it’s obvious Lan Zhan is everything but ready to go rejoin the others, even though it’s high time for dinner, children swarming everywhere now, soon to require their attention. “I’m good at that, unexpected distractions. What are we going to do about him?”

“Feed him dinner,” Lan Zhan comments dryly, “hope he leaves again soon.”

“Right, yup, sounds like a plan. Come on.”

Not really thinking twice about it, Wei Wuxian leads him away from the children, through the back, to the relatively quiet area behind the kitchens, where they’ve got nothing and no one but the chickens for company.

“Wei Ying, it’s dinner time,” Lan Zhan protests feebly, but he also doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry to return back inside.

“Mhm, yep, you’re right. And you don’t have kitchen duty. Listen to me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian takes a step closer to him, surprised by his own inspired determination, but not half as surprised as Lan Zhan, who stares at him now like he’s expecting him to deliver... well, what might very well end up being a pretty good speech.

“You and Xichen-Ge, you do not have to do this alone. You’re not going to, this time around. You’ve got all of us to help, and we will figure out a way to make your Uncle see... what, the light, I guess? Either way, we’ll deal with him, huh?”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Lan Zhan looks him up and down like he’s waiting for more, and then sighs, turning away from him, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the chickens now, like they might provide some answers.

“Miracles are in short supply around here,” he says simply, sourly, and Wei Wuxian resists the urge to not only roll his eyes, but also throw his arm around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, maybe hold him until everything does, in fact, right itself around them... Right. Yeah. Stay on track, Wei Ying.

“We don’t need a miracle,” he offers, trying to convince himself as well as Lan Zhan, “maybe we just need a good distraction.”

He only truly realizes just how right he is when they do make it back among the others, and learn of the truly deus ex machina call Nie Mingjue bestowed upon them, right after Wei Wuxian himself disappeared - it’s unclear what they’re supposed to do, or what they’re waiting for, for that matter, but wait they must.

Weirdly fortunately for them, it doesn’t take a lot to convince Lan Qiren to stay - he’s far too interested in the workings of the campsite, tailing Xichen or Lan Zhan or both everywhere, and observing, which mostly consists of quite the amount of turning his nose up at pretty much everything they do.

Their usual soccer game is deemed overexertion for the children before bedtime, the music circle forming around Wei Wuxian far too loud, and the decorations still in place after the camp wedding ridiculous and excessive...

And that’s before the lullaby.

“Are you telling me you walk around the campsite wailing at the top of your lungs at curfew? ” Lan Qiren inquires, looking supremely out of place among the rest of them, zipped up in their jackets - it gets chilly this late - and standing around somewhat stiffly in front of the main lodge, waiting for the last few people to finish their rounds and join them.

“Yeah!” Wei Wuxian, who has been riding on some weird cheerfully nervous high the past couple of hours, responds loftily. “We have a couple songs we circle through! It’s a lot of fun, you’ll see!”
“And I suppose you came up with it,” Lan Qiren glares, and Wei Wuxian, despite himself, beams.

“Sure did. Kids love it. Tell me, sir, have you heard the remix of Little Apple... ”

All it takes is for Lan Zhan to tense up a little bit by his side, for Wei Wuxian to trail off and eventually shut up, shooting an apologetic shrug Lan Zhan’s way. He doesn’t know, can’t name, what’s gotten into him, hell, maybe it’s just his sixteen-year-old self coming back to haunt him, but he can’t get enough of the absolute off-the-wall ridiculousness of the situation - anyone with eyes can see Lan Qiren sticks out like a sore thumb, and yet, everyone affords him at least a modicum of respect... And everyone also knows he possesses the power to shut this place down for good, but somehow, if Wei Wuxian’s hunch will prove itself to be correct, it’s not going to be as straightforward as all that.

“Look, I’m just saying, ” he starts out way too loud on that note later that evening, at least three people immediately shushing him, “I don’t think he actually wants to sell the damn place.”

“How do you mean?” Huaisang demands, wriggling for more space between Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng. 

Somehow, don’t ask any of them how, they’ve all ended up here, of all places, their half-secret agreed upon meeting spot - in this case, Lan Zhan’s cabin. Getting through their post-curfew meeting was a pain in everyone’s ass, Lan Qiren listening in like a nosy old crone, putting Xichen on edge and pronouncing Lan Zhan’s frown further and further the longer he was around, but somehow, mostly thanks to the group chat Lan Qiren hadn’t yet uncovered the existence of, they’ve agreed on this - the brothers would have to eventually take their Uncle away from the general company, but said company couldn’t very well just stay downstairs and resume their usual nightly activities, which consisted of Lan Qiren’s two least favorite ways to entertain oneself - alcohol, and the drinking games derived from its presence.

If, for some godforsaken reason, they had to suffer the old man overnight, Xichen would not only have to contend with putting him up in his room, but they’d have to take their gossip and speculations elsewhere - preferably somewhere far enough away from the main lodge so that they could plausibly pretend like they actually went to bed at, like, a reasonable hour. Also somewhere incredibly cramped, so they could sit smushed into one big slightly anxious pile, and worry together - so Lan Zhan’s - and for tonight, Xichen’s - cabin it is.

“I mean, think about it,” Wei Wuxian continues his train of thought, strategically taking up too much space on Lan Zhan’s bed, so that when its usual occupant turns up later, he’ll have to sit next to him. “If he really really wanted to get rid of the place so bad, he could have done so from the comfort of his own no doubt incredibly spartan home. He could have just let Jin Guangyao work his charms, and sell his share right there and then. But no, he waited. He hesitated. He came all the way out here, and for what? For what, I ask you?”

“Oh my god,” Wen Qing groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Somebody record him for posterity,” Mianmian grins.

Wen Ning helpfully raises his phone. Jiang Cheng groans, leaning back and letting his head hit the wooden wall of the cabin with a dull, audible thud.

“Oh, I’m serious,” Wei Wuxian is by no means deterred, “there’s got to be something here that’s making him hesitate. That’s making him want to scope out the place for himself. If we’re lucky, he might even have emotions that can be played on, I mean really...”

The door flies open then, and the Lan brothers step in, looking for all the world to see like they didn’t, in fact, expect everyone to actually turn up, and were kind of hoping to be allowed to go to bed right away, instead.

“So?” Wen Qing demands, all of them instinctively leaning forward, buzzing with anticipation.

Xichen opens his mouth to respond, but then he just sighs wearily, sitting down cross-legged on the floor, while Lan Zhan goes exactly where he’s supposed to, folding himself all primly into the teensy space by Wei Wuxian’s side, not uttering a word.

“Shufu is currently sending work e-mails,” is the only thing their Camp Leader says, and all of their confused frowns pretty much look the same.

“...And remind me again why he can’t do that from the comfort of a hotel downtown?” Huaisang asks what everyone’s thinking.

“You heard him earlier,” Xichen is not even bothering to force a smile, beyond his usual perfunctory tired one, “he means to observe. He wants to see how the campsite operates, from the morning bell to curfew. Which is why-”

“We’ll all be on our best behavior, yeah, we know,” Wen Qing finishes for him, then shoots a very pointed glare Wei Wuxian’s way. “All of us.”

“Aiyah, I remember, don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian winces, raising three fingers in a solemn promise: “At least half a campsite between me and him at all times, I know. But listen-”

“Oh, do not start,” Wen Qing reaches across the tiny space to try and smack him, and ultimately fail.

“Start with what?” Xichen demands, and Wei Wuxian beams at him, doing a pretty good job of ignoring how warm it feels to have Lan Zhan pressed up against his side, albeit gingerly, like he’s too aware of the contact himself.

“Well, here’s the thing-”

“We’re not solving this based on feelings,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, and it’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to try and kick him, almost smacking Huaisang in the process - the cabin is very cramped.

“You don’t know that!”

“Honestly,” Xichen says, “I’m open to any and all suggestions right now. What are you thinking?”

“Look, you know me,” Wei Wuxian starts broadly, all eyes suddenly on him, “I was literally never on Lan Qiren’s good side. I can’t count the number of times he just singled me out... Nevermind. The thing is, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to be defending him, but there’s... something there. I can’t claim to know him as well as Lan Zhan and Xichen-Ge, but he’s clearly hesitating for a reason.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s got plenty of really good lawyerly reasons to want to see this place handled differently, but he’s still here. In person. To observe. He’s got to have some sort of a soft spot. A tiny one. A re-eally teeny tiny one. And, look, if I’ve learned anything this summer, being allowed to come back here-”

He can feel Lan Zhan’s eyes searing a hole in him, and the cabin really is very small, and he really does run hot.

“-it’s that, uh... this place has a pull. It really does. It’s actually kind of impossible to resist it, at some point. Trust me, I’ve tried, but there’s just such a wealth of, of memories here, for all of us. Lan Qiren included, whether we like it or not. So I suggest we use that to our advantage.”

Everybody’s staring, but nobody’s laughing or telling him to fuck off, which must be a good sign, he’s willing to wager. He knows he’s only scraping the surface, he knows it’s never quite as easy, but he also has this gut feeling of... almost being right, like the solution is within his grasp, like he just needs to reach out and grab it.

“He was right, actually,” he continues, “we really do all want to see Gusu succeed. All of us grew up here, god dammit. Hell, I was here for a day, and it felt like I’d never left. We all know what it’s like, because we live it every day - we just need to remind him.”

You don’t know - the things he said, Lan Zhan’s voice rings in his head, from another night, what now feels like ages ago, when he was first telling him about the whole debacle, right here, on the doorstep of this very cabin.

He’s so ready to sign off on this place. It doesn’t mean the same things to him that it does to us...

Doesn’t mean it means nothing, though, Wei Wuxian figures.

“Who knew you could be this inspirational,” Huaisang comments with a certain appreciation.

“And I didn’t record it, either,” Wen Ning pouts.

“We can’t just let him play soccer with the kids, and hope he hits his head hard enough to see the light,” Jiang Cheng supplies dryly, then seems to catch himself, sending an apologetic scowl Xichen’s way. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” their Camp Leader offers a smile that’s a step closer to a real one, then lets it disappear as he turns to Wei Wuxian. “Maybe that’s exactly what we need. What do you suppose we should do?”

“I cannot believe we’ve got, like, five days to go-”

“Jingyi, keep it down.”

“-and everything decides to go downhill this fast.”

“You don’t know it’s going downhill, relax,” Sizhui hisses, trying in vain to communicate to the rest of the temporary inhabitants of his tent that unless they keep quiet, they’ll have much more trouble on their hands than not fitting on two narrow bunks.

“How could it not?” Jingyi declares dramatically, and far too loudly still, “old benefactor family members don’t just turn up out of nowhere.”

“Okay, I know I must have already said this when we were still just trying to set up Lan-Gege and Wei-Gege, but this is seriously none of our business. Do you want them to think you’re crazy and decide they’d rather not invite you back next year?”

This is on the forefront of their minds at all times, these days - the chances of any of them making it back here as Junior Counsellors next year are... well, slim, yes, but not entirely nonexistent, which has all of them on edge. They grew up here, and the thought of, of aging out and not being allowed to come back is currently too painful to even entertain. Still, it hangs on their minds, like a persistent nagging reminder of the horrible inevitability of the passage of time.

“On the contrary,” Jingyi says, “I want them to think I’m extremely invested in Gusu’s prosperous future, and capable of connecting the dots as well as resolving the resulting picture, all very important qualities of a really good Junior Counsellor.”

“I’m pretty sure those don’t include staying up this late past curfew,” Zizhen comments loftily - he himself doesn’t seem to really mind being smushed into the tiny tent with two to many people, especially since one of those people is A-Qing, and they basically get to drape themselves over each other under the merciful protection of complete pitch darkness.

“Are you kidding me?” Jingyi snorts, “I’m dead certain all of them stayed up past curfew, back in their day. Except for Lan-Gege, probably.”

“Wei-Gege absolutely did,” Sizhui adds solemnly.

“Right? I bet he did.”

“Oh, no, he told me. Up all night, every night, Sizhui. That’s the way to go, but not for YOU, you have to BEHAVE, you hear me?”

They all burst into quiet laughter at that pitch-perfect rendition of their favorite Counsellor, too taken by the image to notice at first that that very same Counsellor actually invites himself into their tent, laughing along with them, until they notice him and shriek in shocked unison.

“F- Where did you come from?” Jingyi all but falls off the bunk bed, while Zizhen and A-Qing hurry to sit up properly.

“I’m a creature of the night, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says very seriously, “also I could hear your little discussion half a campsite away. Now listen to me carefully-”

“We’re going, we’re going, we’re very sorry, Wei-Gege,” Sizhui hurries to shoo his friends away, but Wei Wuxian’s hand on his shoulder stays him.

“This is your tent, Sizhui, where exactly do you want to go? Didn’t I just say I want you to listen?”

“We’re listening!” Jingyi, quick to spot an opportunity, leans in. “Is this about Lan-Gege’s Uncle making an appearance?”

The silence that reigns in the tent for the span of about two seconds is absolute.

“Nothing gets past you, huh,” Wei Wuxian seems to be almost wearily impressed.

“Is he going to be trouble?” A-Qing demands.

“He was still around when you were little,” Wei Wuxian reminds them, “how much do you remember of him?”

“Super strict,” Jingyi lists off, “liked to throw things at people. I was kinda scared of him, but in a sort of ‘stick it to the man’ way- Sorry, Wei-Gege.”

“Nah, that sounds about right. Alright, let’s establish some things right off the bat.” All the Counsellor needs to do is lean forward, for everyone else to mimic him almost conspiratorially. An anticipatory tension is in the air. “This is none of your damn business.”

“I told you,” Sizhui sighs.

“But.”

“But!” Jingyi exclaims victoriously, almost certainly loud enough to wake half the aforementioned campsite. “There’s a but... Sorry, sorry, shutting up now.”

“I’m not trying to get you into trouble, I can promise you as much,” Wei Wuxian says firmly, “but you know what they say about desperate times.”

“Ooh, I love me some desperate measures,” Jingyi blurts out before he can stop himself, and gets an elbow in the side for his efforts.

“Right. Well, I believe I’m going to need your help.”

If there ever was a time when he didn’t need to worry about half a dozen different things every damn second, Xichen doesn’t recall it - he was fully at capacity long before their Uncle arrived, and now he’s stretched so thin it feels like the invisible, fraying thread holding him together might snap at any moment.

And yet, there’s a strange sense of almost heedless exhilaration that’s present as well. I found a loophole, Mingjue had told him near breathlessly over the phone, just wait for me... And Xichen didn’t have to ask any more questions - he only allowed himself the tiniest sliver of hope to permeate the shadows, and on he went.

Having Uncle back is... Well, it’s feeling like a teenager again, like every step he makes is being strictly evaluated against a set of principles he has no hope of knowing or matching, but also, oddly, it’s kind of reassuring. Not in the usual sense of the word, mind you, but... All he ever wanted, back when he was starting out, back when he took over as Camp Leader, was to hear a ‘Good job’ or ‘You’re going to do just fine’ , coming from... anybody, really, but it was not meant to be. He knows now it was not meant to be, but still, this feels like a chance to prove that he really did do a good job. That things really are going to be just fine.

Outwardly, Shufu disapproves a lot, but Xichen can’t help but wonder if there’s a lot more truth to what Wei Wuxian proposed, than even he thought possible - it’s been years since Lan Qiren stepped foot here, and Xichen has just always assumed it was because he didn’t have a thought to spare for Gusu, but maybe the opposite is true.

Maybe he’s fooling himself, but again, there’s always hope.

“Er-Ge! Everything’s going according to plan!”

That’s Huaisang, materializing by his side out of thin air in the rare moment that Uncle is in Wangji’s care, and Xichen regards their most underrated Counsellor with a tired fondness. Huaisang is almost as excited about the very vague possibility of saving Gusu, whatever that means these days, as Wei Wuxian, and the two can be felt scheming, rather than seen - staying always just out of Lan Qiren’s ubiquitous reach, they make sure that the campsite operates exactly as it’s supposed to alongside everyone else, but there’s also the mysterious plan they’ve set in motion.

“Right, thank you,” Xichen huffs, “remind me, what exactly is the plan?”

Huaisang titters in an oh-you kind of way, and closes the door to the office, to cut off access to any and all perceived prying ears and eyes.

“Jingyi and the rest just found the second to last scavenger trophy,” he says proudly, as if that explains anything, “and it got them so excited that they’re mounting a full blown search for the last one, all based on a hint I might have dropped by accident... It’s all very grand, they’re marching up and down the forest, somebody’s filming it, you know how it goes. That way, we might have a scavenger hunt finale on our hands today, and that’s guaranteed to work, I’m telling you.”

“Right,” Xichen elects not to ask how it’s supposed to work, “well... thank you for the update. Keep at it.”

“Aye aye,” Huaisang grins, even going so far as to lazily salute him, before disappearing again as fast as he came.

Xichen himself would like to believe that it really might be that simple, as simple as reminding their Shufu of just how wonderful the Gusu experience is... As simple as making him look at laughing children and well-executed activities, to make him reconsider his entire approach, but even Xichen, as hopeful as he likes to remain in all things, has his doubts.

But he wasn’t kidding when he admitted to running out of options last night, so he’s just going to let all of this happen, wait for Mingjue to show up, and tell no one what his own little plan regarding all this is shaping up to be.

“How did it go?” he demands of Wangji the second they’re both free, for about a minute or two, courtesy of Wen Qing herself taking over Shufu -sitting duty with a strangely determined look in her eye, and his baby brother casts him a harrowed glare.

“Fine,” he lies.

“I see,” Xichen smiles, motioning him to sit and pushing a glass of water in front of him - they’ve got a ways to go yet until lunch, all teams having returned from their morning activities, and already, the sweltering heat has all of them seeking out every bit of shade, as if the weather knew how to make the entire experience even more insufferable.

“Shufu liked the state of the rope bridges,” Wangji continues mildly, then, with an almost imperceptible frown: “I think.”

“Let’s hope so. What games did you let him see?”

“Wei Ying prepared Scavengers,” a small smile he might not even be aware of lights up Wangji’s face, “that took up a lot of time. Unfortunately, he also let them play Tripod.”

“Ah, but a little bit of carnage never hurt anyone,” Xichen grins.

“Jingyi skinned his knee, and Shufu frowned the whole way through,” Wangji deadpans, “but then Wei Ying got them talking about the canoe trip.”

“Oh? Did that strike a chord?”

“Hopefully,” Wangji shrugs, “ Shufu did question our navigational abilities when we told him about the Lotus Lake, but he seemed... impressed, at the same time. Less impressed when the kids told him it was Wei Ying’s idea-”

“He’s here! Lan Zhan, where are you? He’s- oh.”

That change of tone in Wei Wuxian’s voice has Xichen and Wangji exchanging a single worried glance, before they rise in perfect unison and hurry to the front of the main lodge, where a small crowd has already started gathering around yet another arrival.

Xichen feels his heart skip a beat when he lays eyes on Mingjue, unfolding himself from the driver’s seat, confident and smiling and city-clean, even as he sees their Uncle opening his mouth in protest...

But then the passenger door opens as well, and out steps A-Yao, and Xichen heart drops as fast as it first soared.

“Hi,” Mingjue is already striding towards him, “hear me out, first.”

So yes, everything is going according to some plan - until, of course, it isn’t.

As far as ends of his summers go, this one is shaping up to be thoroughly horrible - Wangji never actually expected to have to deal with the behind-the-scenes Gusu issues while the camp was still happening, but apparently, they don’t really get a say in this. Before he knows it, the campsite is too full of people who shouldn’t by any rights be here, and everything is happening too fast, and the weather is too damn hot, and he’s seriously considering just up and walking away, and hiding in the house in the woods until it all passes. The escapism of the idea keeps him going.

Another thing that keeps him going, against all odds, is Wei Ying - if there hadn’t been half a dozen other people smushed into his cabin last night, Wangji might have been able to tell him just how much he appreciated him trying to come up with ways to resolve all this, but as things stand, they never seem to have enough time. 

Might never have enough time before the summer’s out, come to think of it, but that doesn’t change the fact that Wei Ying is just there, seemingly never too far away, and he’s actually mostly managing to stay on Shufu’s good - or at least neutral - side. Which is saying something, considering how Lan Qiren seems to bristle at every single one of Wei Ying’s remarks, scoff at the way he leads the children, roll his eyes at the instructions he gives them...

It’s as if Wei Ying has simply elected to look past that today, to not let show that it affects him, and honestly, Wangji has endless admiration for that - he himself feels like he’s fraying at the edges just a little more with each one of Lan Qiren’s strict looks, his pointed questions that somehow make him feel like he’s twelve still.

If ever he needed reminding why he decided to leave home years ago and live where he studies, this is it.

Everything escalates with the arrival of Nie Mingjue, and, against all odds, Jin Guangyao, too - Wangji doesn’t know whose side to stand protectively by, Xichen’s or Wei Ying’s, but as it turns out, it might have to be neither. He doesn’t know what sort of magic - or coercion - Nie Mingjue employed to convince Jin Guangyao to behave, but the solution the two of them present is simple, deceptively so.

It also has their Uncle seething.

Wangji doesn’t catch the first rumbles of the incoming earthquake, simply by virtue of doing his job - he doesn’t half like leaving Xichen alone with the rest, but Wen Qing stays behind as well, and he does have the children to take care of for the afternoon. Skipping out on that is unthinkable, and he lets the easy joy of it distract him for a couple of hours.

By the time they make it back to camp for dinner, though, the tension can be cut with a knife.

“Yeah, so I’m pretty sure Da-Ge is threatening legal action, or something,” Huaisang, who has stayed behind to not-at-all eavesdrop all afternoon long, delivers his report. “That loophole he found is really not sitting well with your Uncle.”

To keep Gusu from being remodeled into a Jin-brand holiday resort - remind Wangji why Jin Guangyao is even on the premises right now - assets need to be moved, plainly speaking. Xichen must become a majority shareholder, which is the very thing Uncle Qiren wanted to avoid from the beginning, it would seem - he wants nothing to do with Gusu, and yet he seems to have a difficult time letting it go, and Wangji had really hoped, weeks, ages ago, that he might go the summer without thinking about law for one second of it, but here they all are.

“Great,” he utters, trying not to bend under Wei Wuxian’s inquisitive, worried glare. “Where are they?”

“Each on their respective phones, as of five minutes ago,” Huaisang shrugs, motioning with his head towards the main lodge, “all of them staying for dinner.”

“Delightful,” Wei Ying says dryly, “and the scavenger hunt?”

“No luck. I really thought they’d have figured it out by now. I keep literally dangling the last trophy before their very eyes.”

“Cut them some slack,” Wei Ying laughs, “took them like five weeks to figure out the shooting star one. Green dragon is just mean.”

“Right,” Huaisang sighs, hiding his half-disappointed pout behind his ubiquitous fan. “It’s gotten real stuffy, huh?”

“Real stuffy,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and as if whatever weather deity up there is in a particularly teasing mood, a distant roll of thunder rumbles off in the distance, startling all of them.

“Oh,” Wei Ying peeps, “that kind of stuffy.”

“Might still pass us,” Wangji takes a stab at the evening’s weather report, “it’s probably far off in the mountains.”

“Here’s hoping,” Huaisang nods.

Not that they’re paying attention, but one by one, the insects start going silent.

Later on, thinking back to this very day, Wangji will never be completely one hundred percent sure how it all happened - thousands of words are exchanged, probably, trying to convince their Uncle to see the light. A thousand more are spent reminding Jin Guangyao that no, it still is not his place to call the shots, something that they get the sense Nie Mingjue has been trying to teach him all this time - by rights, the two should be at each other’s throats, but something has shifted, along the way, probably when most of them weren’t looking, Wangji supposes.

Whatever it was - and Wangji would like to think it really was the ubiquitous genius loci of Gusu that Xichen more or less forced down their throats on their last visit - it now has them almost cooperating, almost agreeing with one another.

But, there really are thousands of words still left to be said - Xichen doesn’t want to believe that Jin Guangyao would simply decide to give his share over to him with no strings attached, and neither do many others. Shufu absolutely refuses to believe that he just might be outbid, and that there is any future to be had in Gusu continuing on as it has for years now...

It started raining at some point before the curfew bell, which, while a welcome reprieve from the day’s heat, had all of them racing through their duties, only to reconvene, tired and excited at the same time, back in the main lodge. Their usual evening meeting had to take a backseat to the bickering, because as even Lan Qiren had found out during his stay here, there was no excluding anyone from this now.

“Alright, but if you want Gusu to survive for years, decades to come, without literally rotting out from under you, you’re going to need funds. As is, the camp barely funds itself. You’re going to have to make it marketable all year round, even if you’re the sole owner.”

“Yes, I know, we’ve been over this half a dozen times,” Xichen replies coolly, watching Jin Guangyao like he’s seeing him for the first time, cold and hard, but mellowing out somewhat when Nie Mingjue steps closer to him, adding uncharacteristically softly: “We’re in your corner here. We just have to hammer out some sort of deal that works out for-” one razor sharp glare Jin Guangyao’s way, who withstands it with nothing more than a soft smile, “all of us.”

“And frankly, I don’t see how that’s in any way different from what the Jins were originally offering,” Lan Qiren pipes up, somehow managing to glare disapprovingly at every single person around the table brave and stupid enough to get themselves a beer after he discovered the true contents of the staff fridge. “Let’s face it, Xichen, we cannot keep patching this place up with money we don’t have. Your father built it with money he did not have, and look where that left you-”

“Shufu,” Wangji - who is mentally about a mile away, in the quiet house in the forest where the rapping of the rain can no doubt be heard as a numb, unceasing, calming murmur on the old roof - speaks up, “we want to try. You will not have to worry about how.”

So yes, thousands, thousands of words, and Wangji quietly wishes for a simple spell to just make all of them shut up for a second...

But ultimately, the only words he will always remember with perfect clarity from the night, are uttered seemingly as an afterthought, which is oddly hilarious, since it changes the entire course of... well, everything, for him.

They go from arguing, to splitting into surly groups muttering over their own issues in opposite corners of the dining hall, to eating the late-night rice Granny Wen heats up for them, to, well, arguing again, all the while the rain never lets up outside. At the first proper roll of thunder, loud enough to make their very bones rattle, they send Wen Ning and Mianmian to check on the kids, and really, thinking back, that’s when things might have really started going downhill.

“I’m sorry, sir, but wasn’t it you,” Wei Ying, uncharacteristically silent up until that point, speaks up at an opportune moment, “who said that you wanted what’s best for Gusu? And you-” he turns to Jin Guangyao, who’s already watching him like a hawk, “who did this whole big speech the last time you were here, about how Gusu was still your home in your heart, or whatever? Ultimately, you’re all arguing about nothing. This place is never going to make money. It’s going to eat up money, and it’s up to you to decide how you’re going to feed it money - because at the end of the day, you’re not paying for it to be torn down. You’re not paying for it to be rebuilt from the ground up, either. What you are paying for, what all these kids’ and their parents’ money is paying for, is...”

Wangji watches, mesmerized, as Wei Wuxian somehow manages to describe the entirety of the campsite, the cabins, the tents, every single tree in the forest, with one broad stroke of his arm.

“...This. The place you all grew up. The place we all grew up. You’re paying to store the memories. Am I wrong? If you rebuild it, if you change it in any way, that all goes away, and none of you can stand the thought.”

That succeeds at shutting them up, mostly, albeit only for a moment. Xichen looks almost grateful, Nie Mingjue by his side intrigued, Shufu a tad disgusted, and Jin Guangyao amused - he walks up to Wei Ying, very self assured for someone almost a head shorter, and looks him up and down, the disdain engineered to only be visible to Wei Wuxian, and by association Wangji by his side, before it turns into a picture perfect toothpaste-commercial smile meant for the rest of the room.

“You’re absolutely right, of course. But then, some memories are fonder than others, surely. And some are made so very hazy by the passage of time. Remind me again, was it underage drinking we fired you over, back in the day?”

“A-Yao,” Xichen speaks up before even Wangji can, and Nie Mingjue just rolls his eyes.

“That’s uncalled for,” he points out like he’s just fondly scolding the man.

“Oh, but I disagree. After all, revisiting old hurts might offer us some perspective on how we ended up right here.”

“I was sixteen years old and an idiot,” Wei Ying says with so much effortless conviction it prompts a snicker of laughter here and there, “and I had to get your attention so my brother and Huaisang could sneak past you that night.”

“What,” Jiang Cheng comments eloquently, while Huaisang next to him bursts into delighted laughter.

“There, hurt revisited,” Wei Ying smirks, “do I regret leaving here? Sure. I was supremely stupid, and sir, I’m sorry to be so blunt-” he turns to Lan Qiren, who’s glaring at him with a mixture of disgust and intrigue, “but I spent a lot of my time trying to think of ways to piss you off, instead of appreciating what I had here. And that’s the truth.”

“Charming, how blase you can be about it,” Jin Guangyao doesn’t seem to have lost his stride in the slightest, “especially considering the impact your leaving had on others.”

And his eyes land on Wangji now, and that spells no good.

“Alright, alright,” Wei Wuxian laughs, raising his hands up like he’s half-heartedly defending himself, “I already feel plenty bad about it, believe me, you don’t have to pile on the emotional blackmail. We get it, we get it, I wasn’t exactly a model student. I made a lot of mistakes, and I’m not exactly a poster child for the perfect Gusu Counsellor even today, but that’s it.”

“That’s it,” Jin Guangyao repeats, highly pleased with himself - Wangji suddenly wishes he’d been the one to volunteer to go check over the tents, if only as an excuse to get out of here.

“Well, I mean, yeah...?” Wei Ying squints, “what exactly are you trying to tell me, here? That people went mad with grief when I left? Please. You guys could not have been happier to get rid of me back then!”

“Well, I was,” Jin Guangyao admits, “but it’s intriguing to say the least, that Wangji hasn’t shared his side of the story with you, yet. It’s so very romantic, after all.”

Wangji considers, against all logic and common sense, how lovely it would be if the bench he’s sitting on were to swallow him whole.

“A-Yao, that’s enough,” Xichen comes to his rescue, but it’s too late, Wei Wuxian is interested now.

“What side...? Lan Zhan, what is he talking about?”

Outside, the thunderclap is enough to make them yelp, and Wangji thinks, fitting. A grand old backdrop to what’s quickly shaping up to be the worst moment of his life.

“Wei Ying-”

“Oh, hang on,” Jin Guangyao laughs pleasantly, “hang on. Am I horribly misrepresenting the situation?”

“Probably,” Nie Mingjue growls, “just leave them alone.”

“But, Da-Ge, you can’t tell me you didn’t think they’d finally worked it out, the first time you saw them together after all these years!”

“Huh?!” Wei Wuxian is looking a bit desperate, on top of completely lost, and Wangji feels heat rising into his cheeks, but he’s utterly incapable of speaking up, moving, anything.

“Oh dear god,” Jin Guangyao looks genuinely amused and apologetic, “you’re telling me we had to watch Wangji pine after you for years, only for you to still not pick up on a damn thing, even after you came back?”

“You had to watch Lan Zhan do what?!”

“Oh god,” Wen Qing groans in the background, mirroring what Wangji would like to do, by putting her head in her hands.

“Off topic,” Nie Mingjue sighs, “leave it.”

“Oh, no no no, I’d say this is perfectly on topic, Da-Ge,” Jin Guangyao seems to be having the time of his life, “Wei Wuxian, are you telling me that you somehow made it back here, and have still spent this entire summer not picking up what he’s putting down?”

“What the fuck is going on,” Wei Ying exhales dazedly.

“You’re an idiot,” Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang holler like the world’s worst background singers, only for Wen Qing to add: “Maybe let’s not air out the dirty laundry all at once, though?”

“I get the sense it’s already out,” Huaisang mutters, eyes alive with poorly concealed excitement.

But Wangji, Wangji only has eyes for Wei Ying - Wei Ying, who looks almost comically confused, and when his eyes settle on Wangji, there’s an undercurrent of something almost akin to fear in them.

“Lan Zhan,” he peeps, and Wangji simultaneously wants to reach for him, and run as far away from him as humanly possible.

“Wei Ying, I’m-”

With a truly theatrical sense of timing, the door to the dining hall then flies open, probably almost in unison with another roll of thunder from outside, and Wen Ning and Mianmian burst in, soaked to the bone, looking harried at best.

“Uh, guys...” Wen Ning starts uncertainly, before Mianmian takes over, with a soldier’s zeal.

“A tree snapped out by the firepit, woke up half the campsite, did you not hear it?! We’ve got two leaking cabins, and pretty much all the tents. One tarp tore off, Sizhui has nowhere to sleep right now. I’ve got a dozen crying, terrified kids, we need help right now.”

What follows is a completely stunned silence, pretty much all of them realizing for the first time just how harsh the rapping of the rain actually sounds.

“Am I talking to a wall?!” Mianmian snaps them all out of it, “it’s all hands on deck, now!”

As far as dramatic plot twists go, this one takes the cake - they all run out to help, even Jin Guangyao, even Shufu. Wangji loses track of Wei Ying in the momentary chaos, but it’s probably for the best - he himself takes the stairs by two, following Xichen to grab as many of the spare tarps from the attic storage as possible, and before long, they’re all getting absolutely pummelled by what turns out to be the strongest storm to have hit Gusu in a while.

In years, in fact, which, frankly, feels kind of fitting, too.

Wangji lets the utter chaos of it distract him - the oldest kids absolutely insist on helping out and spreading the plastic tarps all over their own leaking tents, but it only takes one or two whip-cracks of thunder and lightning to convince them that they’re not going to be spending the night in there. It’s been quite a while since they’ve had to let the children sleep inside the main lodge, but it wouldn’t be this year’s bunch if they weren’t unduly excited about it.

Wangji only makes sure they’re settling in, mattress next to inflatable mattress on the floor in the dining hall like they’re in the middle of a warzone, overseen by their best Lieutenant in the form of Huaisang, and delves back into the rain - it’s unceasing in a way that tells him they’re going to spend the rest of the night like this, and wake up to broken branches littering the campsite, and far too much damage to readily assess...

It’s exhausting work, some of them going cabin to cabin and spending time with the younger children, terrified of the elements going amok, while others work on securing the tents to survive until the morning at least. Under any other circumstances, Wangji would be delighted at the sight of Nie Mingjue helping out, wary at the sight of Jin Guangyao doing the same, but they really do need every single bit of help they can get, if Gusu is not to float away from under them.

“Shufu, go back inside...!” he cries, rain pouring down his face and into his mouth - if he thought seeing Xichen’s two former boyfriends doing actual work was surreal, watching Lan Qiren carry armfuls of dirty old rope and plastic tarps really takes the cake.

“Shufu! You shouldn’t be here, we’ve got this!” Xichen adds, the rain pummelling them all, and still, Lan Qiren manages to somehow appear almost indignant.

“Nonsense! The sooner we get this over with, the better! Now hold this!”

And Wangji expected this summer to end in many different ways, daydreamed some and dreaded others, but working with their prim and proper lawyer of an Uncle to secure old tent fabric while getting absolutely destroyed by a storm the magnitude of which they only remember from their childhood... Getting a glimpse of the Camp Leader Lan Qiren used to be, in the way he forgoes all comfort and, honestly, safety to help them... It’s surreal.

It’s surreal, and Wangji is still thinking about the implications of it as he hurries over to his cabin for a dry change of clothes after what feels like hours of exhausting, cold work. He’s going to have to help check over the children half a dozen more times before they’re sure they’re asleep, but he’d prefer to do it while relatively warm, at least.

...He’d prefer for his heart not to stop at the sight of Wei Wuxian standing on the porch, but he doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of control over that these days, either.

“Wei Ying, your stuff...?” is the first half-coherent thought he manages to voice out loud, and Wei Wuxian waves his hand, getting up to his feet.

“I just threw a tarp over it, I’ll deal with it in the morning. I think I left my jacket here last night, but it was locked...”

He’s absolutely soaked through, much like all the rest of them, wet strands of hair sticking to his face, nothing but the thin fabric of his t-shirt and shorts glued to his skin, and he’s... yes, wearing flip-flops again, because of course he is.

“Excuse me,” Wangji slips past him on the tiny porch, searching his wet pockets for his key to the cabin - when he succeeds at unlocking the door, flipping the switch does absolutely nothing, the interior remaining plunged into darkness, and it should have occurred to him earlier...

“Power’s out,” Wei Ying comments, his voice coming from much closer behind Wangji than he’d anticipated. “I think Xichen-Ge and Nie Mingjue are working on it. You got a flashlight?”

Wangji fumbles for the tiny thing, and it doesn’t really offer much in the way of light once he does manage to switch it on, but it very clearly illuminates this - Wei Wuxian has slipped out of his wet t-shirt without so much as a by your leave, and is already zipping himself up into the jacket he very much did leave behind yesterday.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll go get one of my t-shirts at some point, but I’m freezing right now.”

“Uh-huh,” Wangji comments eloquently, turning away from him - he needs dry clothes, himself, but mostly he needs to be thinking about anything else besides the momentary existence of Wei Wuxian’s bare chest in his general vicinity.

“Let me get changed,” he narrates his progress, still firmly not looking at his company, “then we need to go see about the kids sleeping in the main lodge. I’m fairly sure Uncle Four had some trouble with the chicken coop leaking, I promised to take a look, too, but maybe someone else has already...”

“Lan Zhan.”

It’s quiet, almost too quiet, like Wei Ying is hoping against all reason that Wangji might not hear him, but it’s still there.

“Mn.”

“Look, I’m... I have to ask, okay?” he speaks so carefully, like he’s worried about saying the wrong thing, about offending Wangji or something. “It’s just the two of us here, and I swear I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, but... Was he right?”

Wangji stops, his fingers buried into his warmest hoodie, and it’s not to discourage Wei Ying in the least, but the pause still comes.

“After I left, did you really...? I mean, have I really been this much of an idiot, this whole time?”

Wordlessly, Wangji finishes changing out of his soaked-through shirt, mostly because he really is starting to freeze, and only when the warmth of his hoodie envelops him, does he find the courage to turn around and look Wei Ying in the eye - he appears almost too small, there on the doorstep of Wangji’s cabin, and even in the faint glow of the shitty flashlight, Wangji can see the uncertainty in his eyes so very clearly.

Even in the unceasing rapping of the rain, he can hear his own heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Wei Ying,” he says, his own voice terribly unsteady, “as you can see, everyone else already knows.”

Nothing in the world will ever succeed at making him warmer than Wei Ying’s laughter, he’s known as much for years and years, but he doesn’t mind the reminder.

“Fuck, Lan Zhan, I’m - I have been an idiot... You could have told me!”

“Told you?” It’s Wangji’s turn to laugh, a short, incredulous huff of it. “I tried. On several occasions.”

“Well, you didn’t try try, not in so many words, otherwise... You know what, it doesn’t matter. I, uh... I just wanna know, how long?”

“How long, what?”

“Jin Guangyao said you pined after me, for fuck’s sakes. Pined, Lan Zhan. Have you always known...? No, no, that’s stupid, this isn’t some...”

“Wei Ying.”

When did he know?!

They were twelve, and Wei Ying broke Wen Chao’s nose to protect Wangji, the sheer fury in his eyes memorable to this day.

They were thirteen, and Wei Ying skinned his knee skidding down the rocky slope of that godforsaken cave to help Wangji, sit by his side, make a fire, rest his warm weight against him, heart to heart.

They were fourteen, and Wei Ying held his hand by the campfire, and Wangji felt for all the world to see like lightning had struck him.

They were fifteen, and Wei Ying painted a rabbit on their lantern, and they made a promise to always come back to Gusu together, a promise he would break the very next year, and many years after that.

They were sixteen, and Wei Ying stripped (almost) naked and ran laughing into the lake without a care in the world, knowing he’d be gone the next day, and when Wangji shouted at him, he had the audacity to say You’re all better off without me, and expected Wangji to agree with him.

He was seventeen, and he came back to a Gusu that was darker, quieter, without Wei Wuxian around, and maybe that’s when he knew, expecting the echo of his laughter to solidify into him around every corner.

They were nine years old, and they saw each other for the very first time, and they’re twenty-one now, and for all intents and purposes, it feels the same - Gusu is all their memories together condensed into the smell of firewood and pine resin, into starry nights and sunny afternoons, into scorching heat and, yes, unexpected thunderstorms... Into running and laughing and making music together, broken bones and shattered childhood promises, and Wei Ying’s first Lan Zhan! , at the start of summer a dozen times over, and in every single one of those memories, Wangji loves him, there’s simply no questioning it.

They’re twenty-one now, and there’s no grand gestures, no camp weddings solidifying it, no soundtrack save for the rain and the squelching of Wei Ying’s wet feet in his stupid, horrible flip-flops, and still...

Still, Wangji loves him.

“You have been an idiot,” he concedes, “this whole time.”

Wei Ying’s eyes are gleaming almost unnaturally bright in the darkness, and he makes to reach for Wangji, before changing his mind and wiping his own wet hair away from his face instead.

“...I see,” he mumbles, “Lan Zhan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s alright,” Wangji closes the distance between them, “it was worth the wait.”

And as it turns out, Wei Ying’s laughter really does bring warmth with it, and his lips are only ice cold for the first few moments, and the rain drowns out the rest.

Chapter Text

It’s a special kind of amazing, something finally working out - five seconds ago, Wei Wuxian was half freezing to death, and it was dark, and he was, frankly, miserable, but it’s five seconds later now, and he gets to do... this.

He doesn’t remember how he existed before the realization that Lan Zhan has... that Lan Zhan’s feelings have been... That Lan Zhan, much like Wei Wuxian himself, has been feeling something all this time, something he might have had no hopes of confirming, but somehow was much better at naming.

That Lan Zhan will let him near, if he only gathers up the courage, and that Lan Zhan will let him do this.

He was cold five seconds ago, but right now, there’s only warmth, and his knees almost give way when the kiss, chaste at first, transforms into more, a whole lot more, when Lan Zhan wraps one arm around his waist and pulls him closer, his intent clear.

A wanton idiot for far too long and long enough, Wei Wuxian throws his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, and laughs into the kiss, and nothing else really matters - vaguely, he remembers they might have some other problems, the storm, the kids, the... other people, but he simply doesn’t have the capacity to worry about those anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against Lan Zhan’s lips, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve been...”

But Lan Zhan clearly doesn’t have the capacity for his bullshit anymore, either, because he simply produces some horribly attractive displeased grumble, and proceeds to shut him up, like, really really effectively.

They stumble through the dark, cramped space of the cabin until Wei Wuxian hits his shin on... something, probably a bed, and Lan Zhan grips him tighter to steady him, at which point they allow some air in between them.

“So, uh,” Wei Wuxian comments a bit breathlessly, since Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to want to leave a whole lot of distance between their faces, all but nosing at his cheek. “This is happening.”

“Mn.”

“And I’m s- I swear I’m not going anywhere,” he babbles, “not like... Not like last time. Don’t think I don’t remember, Lan Zhan, I have nightmares-”

Alright, yes, more kissing, excellent at dispelling any and all worries.

“I’m serious, I’ll- I’m not going to run away again, okay?”

He’s saying it half to convince Lan Zhan, half to convince himself, but Lan Zhan’s eyes are perfectly calm, if ablaze, in the dim glow of the flashlight that’s now fallen on the ground at their feet, and his voice steady when he says: “You can try and see if I’d let you, now.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to protest, half seriously indignant, but the heat in his cheeks is a bit disarming.

“You-!” he punches Lan Zhan’s chest - who, for his part, looks incredibly fucking pleased with himself, and too cute for words. God.

Just to make sure this all isn’t in his head, Wei Wuxian kisses him again, slower, probing, reassuring himself, and yeah, it’s still there - the softness, the absolute baffling gentleness with which Lan Zhan, simply by virtue of being himself and being here, reaches into the deepest corners of Wei Wuxian’s heart, and illuminates them, a little bit, like he’s painting a message across the walls - I’m here, for you, with you.

It’s terrifying, but also so good that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how he could ever be expected to let it go.

“We still need to go back to the main lodge,” Lan Zhan points out when next they part, clearly unconvinced himself.

“I suppose,” Wei Wuxian hums, his fingers having found their way into Lan Zhan’s damp hair, reveling in every single little discovery they make along the way, spots he’s never been allowed to touch over the years, the soft curve of his neck, the sensation of his skin, even the secret little nook behind his ear...

“Wei Ying.”

“Mm. Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. Sort of. Main lodge. Gotta go.”

“We will come back here.”

It’s not a promise - it sounds absolute, like the simplest, clearest statement, and despite himself, Wei Wuxian laughs, a bit incredulously.

“We... I mean, we will?”

“Mhm. Nobody should sleep in a tent tonight, not in this weather.”

“Well, that’s true, but... Fuck, you are really distracting.”

“Excuse me,” Lan Zhan’s voice has a gently teasing lilt to it, and he takes about half a step back, still too much in Wei Wuxian’s humble opinion.

“You’re not excused,” he pouts, “but, um, what was I... Oh, that’s right! Won’t your brother want to sleep here, too? Since your Uncle’s in his office? I mean, look, I’m as shameless as the next guy, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me trying to feel you up two feet away from him, I-”

He doesn’t stop himself in time, from babbling like an idiot again, but Lan Zhan almost looks amused, before he circles right back to... intensely interested, and pulls Wei Wuxian closer, decisively, powerfully, enough to make him trip over his feet and into his arms, which, okay, kind of really hot.

The kiss Wei Wuxian receives for his troubles is also really hot, but unfortunately not long enough by any means.
“Let’s go,” Lan Zhan orders him instead of explaining literally anything, and of course, Wei Wuxian simply follows - it’s physically impossible not to.

They’re met with reality immediately after stepping foot outside again, and rather violently so. The storm is still going, so there’s no dazed sauntering back to the lodge - hand in hand (holy shit, are they just going to keep DOING THAT now), they make a run for it, and the amount of people inside the building actually works in their favor, in terms of answering any questions Wei Wuxian might have, along the lines of uuh so do I get to touch/kiss/whatever you in front of other people...?

There’s no doing any of those things, as the kids that get to sleep inside tonight have barely begun unwinding from all the adrenaline, and Wei Wuxian stays with them, trying to get them to settle the hell down as quickly as possible for his benefit more than anything else, while Lan Zhan disappears to god knows where, probably to help Uncle Four like he’d mentioned before, like he has absolutely no regard for the intensity with which Wei Wuxian cannot be parted from him right now, like he doesn’t know...

He only realizes he’s been staring into space and thinking about kissing the boy of his dreams for a good long while when someone calls his name, and he’s met with a dozen very eager faces popping out of sleeping bags neatly lined on the floor like unruly caterpillars - before he’s allowed to actually go back to said kissing, he’s going to have to get these temporarily homeless tent-dwellers to quiet down enough to go to sleep, and he has no idea how he’s going to do it when his own heart is racing ahead at the speed of light.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, “what are we in the mood for? A bedtime story? A bedtime song?”

He’s lucid enough to realize these kids might look like they’re having the time of their life, but they might very well also be quietly terrified without even really realizing it themselves - the storm is still absolutely pummelling the entire campsite, and Wei Wuxian can only sympathize with those of his fellow Counsellors who are in charge of calming down the smaller kids in their little cabins, and speculate as to what fallout they’ll all discover in the morning. Didn’t someone mention a snapped tree...?

He’s in the middle of doing his best to voice act about four different parts from this book he pulled out of Huaisang’s little library nearby, when others come check in on them - Huaisang himself first, looking rather like a damp dog, deciding to stay and help out with the voices, then Jiang Cheng, soaked to the bone himself and gruffly not worrying about Wei Wuxian’s state, I haven’t seen you for an hour, you idiot, I thought you drowned in the lake or something, and before they know it, the kids have started burrowing deeper into their sleeping bags and nodding off. 

It doesn’t take long for them to decide, mostly on account of some people starting to shiver in their soaked clothes, that the kids have had enough, and they tiptoe out of the room - they’re in the middle of goodnaturedly arguing who’s going to watch over the stowaways, since somebody probably has to, when they witness something that only serves to add to the surrealism of the entire night.

“I am not sleeping on the floor, I didn’t come here to catch pneumonia, thank you very much.”

“Oh, suit yourself, princess, the couch is yours. I don’t mind slumming it on the ground... You do have one of those inflatable mattresses somewhere, right, Xichen?”

“Of course I do. Now keep it down, you two, before you... Oh. Hello. Is everything alright?”

Their esteemed Camp Leader notices them lingering in the door, and stops in the middle of what looks suspiciously like... well, like a mounting pillow fight, for one, and also like Jin Guangyao, Nie Mingjue and him really do want to sleep in one pile of sleeping bags, in one room, without murdering each other.

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian comments eloquently.

“Da-Ge,” Huaisang chimes in.

“What?” Nie Mingjue scowls at him, halfway through changing out of his damp henley, into a dry one, right there, in front of everybody.

“...Nothing.”

“The kids are asleep now?” Xichen wants to know, like all their arguments and their drama haven’t boiled down to Jin Guangyao kicking Nie Mingjue’s stuff off the couch, the two grumbling at each other like... Wei Wuxian is loath to even think it.

“They are,” Jiang Cheng nods, “well, mostly. We were going to come up with some sort of, uhh... Watch roster? For the night?”

“That’s a good idea, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” Xichen beams at them - beams - as he rakes his fingers through his wet hair, “we’re going to stay right here, so we’ll definitely hear if the kids start making any noise next door, and besides, we checked the weather, the storm should be on its way out now.”

“Power’s back on, and it should stay that way,” Nie Mingjue adds, “if not, I’ll fix it from here.”

“We should all get some rest, now that the kids are safe and the tents won’t come flying off,” Xichen nods, “we’ll survey the damage in the morning.”

“If you’re sure,” Jiang Cheng squints at him, and Wei Wuxian can’t really blame him - did this storm just fry everyone’s brains, to make them see things in a different light? Not that he particularly minds the idea, of course.

“I’m sure,” Xichen reaffirms it, “now go on, all of you, go get some sleep. We’ll have a lot to do in the morning, at any rate.”

“Does that mean we’re not moving the morning bell until, oh, I don’t know,” Nie Mingjue speculates, “nine? Ten?”

“Absolutely not,” Xichen smiles.

“As if anyone could sleep any longer through your snoring,” Jin Guangyao dismisses him, and Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang exchange one short, but incredibly telling look - time to hightail it out of here before this ridiculous theatre scrambles their sanity for good.

“I guess that’s one way to solve all of our impending issues,” Wei Wuxian shrugs, on their way downstairs, after they’re sure they’re out of earshot.

“You’re telling me,” Huaisang grumbles, “you know what they say about sleeping on it, especially if it’s with both of your-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Jiang Cheng groans, “you couldn’t have planned this far.”

“Planned?” Huaisang huffs in genuine surprise, like the word isn’t even in his dictionary, “I don’t plan for anything. I just let things happen, and observe, that’s all it takes in most cases...”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think I really am going to go to sleep now, if it’s all the same to you, check on my kids one last time while I’m at it.”

“That is a great idea,” Wei Wuxian chimes in, “I think I’m gonna go do the same.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jiang Cheng frowns at him, “all of your kids are right here, inside the building.”

“Where are you going to sleep, anyway?” Huaisang wonders, “your tent’s pretty much unusable.”

“Uhh,” Wei Wuxian comments, suddenly very certain he won’t be able to say the words just gonna bunk with Lan Zhan casually enough for them to believe him.

“I’d offer you the floor of our cabin,” Jiang Cheng says loftily, “but that’s a little too fancy for you.”

“Aww, didi, you do care!”

They finally make it to the dining hall, and so it seems has everyone else - they all seem to have gotten Xichen’s message, and Granny Wen is in the middle of distributing steaming hot cups of tea for them to drink before bedtime.

Wei Wuxian’s heart performs a secret little somersault at the sight of Lan Zhan, cupping his steaming travel mug and sitting a little off to the side, conversing quietly with Wen Qing and... ugh, did it have to be Lan Qiren? Will they ever catch a break?

He tries to discern via staring alone, if Lan Zhan wants him to come over or not, but just like everyone else in the room, he wisely decides to just sort of... hang around and see. The kids have apparently been safely put to sleep, most of them, and the storm reduced to just really intense rain, only a distant roll of thunder here and there betraying its true ferocity... There’s going to be a lot of cleaning up in the morning, but the plan for now is clear - go to sleep, not catch a cold, and not choke on one’s tea because is that Lan Qiren laughing-

It’s nothing but a short almost-scoff, but it’s definitely enough to make everyone who isn’t an immediate part of that conversation look up, and stare.

The old man really did spend a good portion of the chaos helping out outside, and much like all the rest of them, he hasn’t even changed out of his sopping wet clothes, and as he stands up right now, he looks less like a strict city lawyer, and more like the Camp Leader he used to be, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know about the rest, but he finds the sight... slightly unsettling, to say the least.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” Lan Qiren announces to Lan Zhan and Wen Qing, suspiciously mildly, then adds, a little louder: “Goodnight, everyone.”

A discordant chorus of uuh... goodnight, sir’s echoes after him, and the second the door closes behind him, the entire room swarms around Lan Zhan and Wen Qing.

“What just happened?” Huaisang demands.

“You heard him,” Wen Qing says uncharacteristically gently, “we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Half a dozen eager faces turn from her to Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian idly thinks if anyone can sense just how much he wants to kiss him, sitting there all prim and proper with the smallest hint of a smile on his face, his usually neat and straight hair beginning to curl into damp waves.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan adds, ever the succinct conversationalist.

“Well, what the hell does that mean?” Jiang Cheng squints.

“Did he get struck by lightning?” Wei Wuxian follows, “is that what happened? Is that why everyone’s suddenly in a better mood?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes are searing a hole into his soul and it’s a teensy bit unbearable.

“Are we going to be okay, then?” Wen Ning asks innocently, and at that, his sister finally relents, at least a little bit.

“Maybe,” she says, “hopefully. Seriously though, everyone, get changed into something dry, and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

From that point on, it’s just a matter of slipping out unnoticed, which is... surprisingly? Kind of easy, when one’s just dying for a chance to hold someone’s hand, and would do anything to grab that opportunity as soon as possible.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how Lan Zhan and him managed to excuse themselves, or how they’re going to explain themselves in the morning to anybody, but he finds that he really doesn’t care right now - they trot back to Lan Zhan’s cabin, only partially because of the rain, and when the door clicks shut behind them, the silence that reigns is absolute.

The light still doesn’t work, clearly not all of the power grid has been fixed, but they don’t care about that either.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian manages not to trip over anything as he closes the distance between them, “is it true? Are we going to be alright now?”

“Maybe. Uncle is... reconsidering some things. It would seem.”

“Well, reconsidering’s good, right? Isn’t it?”

He doesn’t have to search very hard to find Lan Zhan’s hand in the darkness, and it’s dry now, and a bit cold, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t really want to let go of it, ever.

“It is,” Lan Zhan exhales, the tiniest breathless lilt to his voice, “Wei Ying.”

“Who would have thought, right? That all it would take to solve everyone’s bullshit, would be one really good storm!”

“Mn.”

“I mean, I’m just saying, Lan Zhan, think about it. It took me, what, over a decade to come to my senses, seriously-”

Of all the things he never ever could have predicted, coming to some sort of silent agreement with Lan Zhan that shutting him up by kissing him would be really effective, never even crossed Wei Wuxian’s mind.

Not that he cares, because this is fucking fantastic.

Not that he even remembers what he used to do, before he was allowed to be a part of this.

Lan Zhan kisses him like he wants to make up for all the time they spent not doing that, avoiding even thinking about it, and Wei Wuxian repays him in kind, because man, they’ve waited long enough. He could try to apologize again, could probably spend endless hours apologizing, but it wouldn’t be enough - nor would it really matter. They’re here, now, together, and all the rest is in the past, clearly rendered harmless and forgiven.

It’s kind of difficult to tell which one of them gets the shivers first, but the night finally catches up with them - the incredible rush of emotions has carried them this far, but they’re both really cold, and really tired, and, perhaps most miraculously of all, they’re also of the same damn mind about their sleeping arrangements.

Wei Wuxian even relents to wear socks, on top of Lan Zhan’s borrowed jumper and sweatpants, that’s how cold he is, but apparently Lan Zhan is generally on a quest to warm him up, because he unwraps and unzips a spare sleeping bag in addition to his own, and that combined with just the closeness and warmth of him makes the narrow bunk about the coziest place on earth.

Suddenly very aware just how close they are, just how vulnerable he’s letting himself be, Wei Wuxian tries to look into Lan Zhan’s eyes in the absolute pitch black, and catches at least the gleam of them, maps out with his thumb what might very well be a gentle smile gracing Lan Zhan’s lips.

“This is it, huh?” he mumbles, the comfort swiftly overpowering him, slurring his words and melting his frosty bones, and fortunately, he doesn’t really have to explain to Lan Zhan what he means.

“If that’s what you want,” he receives what he knows to be a gentle teasing jab, alongside another kiss, and he sighs happily, burrowing deeper into the sleeping bags, nose buried in Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Shh, Lan Zhan,” he manages to mutter before sleep finally claims him, “talking like you’re not stuck with me, now.”

The rest of the story goes like this - among all the half-plausible or downright crazy solutions Xichen ever entertained with regards to this mess, a storm of truly apocalyptic proportions didn’t even figure anywhere near his equations.

And yet, it does the job, and does it marvelously - it doesn’t feel that way in the moment, of course it doesn’t, when they’re all running this way and that trying to ensure that the whole entire campsite doesn’t get blown away, but before Xichen knows it, their Uncle is helping out, of all people, and A-Yao and Mingjue are helping out, and he has a moment of utter, sheer emptiness, standing in the doorway of the main lodge, soaked to the bone, having just rushed a dozen kids out of their tents and inside, having just lost power, having just surveyed a snapped tree that’d been growing here for decades, probably, and...

And he feels so devoid of worry, so devoid of any anger, or fear, or disappointment, that it renders him light-headed. If they got through this, then literally what else can the universe throw at them that they won’t be able to withstand?

“Xichen, are you okay?”

That’s Mingjue, a bit breathless and a bit worried, wet hair sticking to his face, and he looks like a revelation to Xichen, like they’re years younger still, coming up with new games for the kids on the fly, and managing Gusu on their own through sheer willpower.

He’s beautiful, and Xichen wants him to be his boyfriend again, and the might of that realization is so strong it makes him dissolve into helpless laughter.

“I’m fine,” he reassures Mingjue, who looks anything but convinced, “I’m alright.”

“Well, uh, good. Remind me where the main fuse box is? I’m gonna do some tinkering.”

“Do you want to electrocute yourself tonight, on top of everything?” A-Yao, for his part, looks a bit like a miserable cat somebody forced to take a bath against his will, and Xichen can’t believe he’s still here, as opposed to jumping in his car and driving as far away from here as humanly possible.

Probably has to do with the promise of falling trees in the forest, or something.

And so, the rest of the story goes like this - they fix the fuse box together, or rather converse while Mingjue does it, and then, what feels like several hours and errands later, the only place to safely sleep tonight happens to be Huaisang’s craft room, right next door to where the displaced children are staying...

Neither of the three of them question it, really, Mingjue and A-Yao bickering about the precise sleeping arrangements up until the point that someone else happens upon them, and reminds Xichen of just how surreal this all might be to the outside eye.

“Well,” Mingjue comments after his brother and Wei Wuxian with Jiang Cheng exit the room in visible confusion, “of all the things I thought I’d end up doing after coming back here...”

“Oh, do tell, Da-Ge,” Jin Guangyao has burrowed into his sleeping bag so thoroughly, the only visible part of him is his nose and a tuft of hair, “a far cry from the legal battle you were hoping was going to unfold?”

“Isn’t that what you were hoping for? Gonna sue the weather for interfering with your plans?”

“No, but I might sue you for snoring, so be careful. Xichen, your Uncle...?”

“Wangji is looking after him now. I made him tea and he gets to sleep in my bed, again, that should appease him.”

“Still can’t believe he decided to just, what, do manual labor, in the rain,” Mingjue mumbles, a bit muffled, since he, too, has somehow managed to ensconce his massive body in his sleeping bag on the floor, his inflatable mattress squeaking under the weight, right next to Xichen’s- and what are they, fifteen?!

“Tell me about it,” Xichen smiles, “I’m shutting off the lights now.”

“Do not trip over me,” Mingjue grumbles.

“Ssh,” A-Yao orders him.

“Don’t shush me. I’ll snore right into your goddamn ear all night long. I’ll do it.”

“I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try.”

“Guys,” Xichen stops them both, and they actually do shut up, and he almost wants to say, this is great. Do you understand? This is what I’ve always wanted. Just the three of us back together, here, somehow figuring stuff out despite impossible, shitty odds...

He’s well aware this oddly good mood might only last the night, they might again be at each other’s throats come the morning, but he’s willing to take his chances.

He’s willing to take the idea that they’re out of the worst of it, out of the woods, so to speak, add it to the comfort of having the two people who used to be his closest friends so near, and let all of it lull him to sleep.

Ultimately, the story goes like this - they wake up to fresh air, the sky swept clear by the elements, and water pooling in places it certainly shouldn’t. They wake up to the pier having half collapsed, ancient and half rotten long before last night, and to having to figure out how to get rid of a huge tree lying smack in the middle of the clearing with the fire pit, before the kids start using it for climbing practice...

To absolutely not having anywhere near enough spare tent canvases to take care of all the leaks, not to mention any supplies for fixing the roofs of some of the cabins that have suffered the same fate, but...

But the air really does smell like the forest and the reminder of rain, and they cancel all activities for the morning, to mostly just figure stuff out, and for once, it’s comfortably quiet in the dining hall as the kids and their Counsellors eat their breakfast and drink their tea, all equally tired, and it’s - it’s something.

Xichen is so busy with practical things, those first couple of hours, that he doesn’t even entertain the idea of sitting down himself and talking, and thus isn’t entirely sure how he finds himself surrounded, Mingjue pushing a steaming mug of tea into his hands while Jin Guangyao boots up his laptop, and Wangji closes the door to their office after himself and Uncle.

“What’s- Is everything alright?” Xichen feels a bit confused, since he definitely wasn’t the one to call this meeting, nor did he even expect it, and Mingjue only shakes his head and motions for him to sit down and drink his tea.

Xichen looks from him to Wangji, who has some sort of a different air about him for some reason, but Xichen can’t really put a finger on it - nor does he receive any more information from his baby brother, aside from a vague nod.

“I believe most of us are ready to come to an agreement,” A-Yao announces, and that is enough to make Xichen pay attention, enough for his insides to turn uncomfortably.

“We, uh... Are we?”

“Just listen, first,” Mingjue beckons him gently, after which their Uncle takes the stage, pulling all attention towards him simply by virtue of... existing in the center of the tiny room.

“It’s clear to me, today more than ever,” Lan Qiren begins loftily, but with only a sliver of his usual stern attitude, “that what this place needs the most, isn’t money.”

“Shufu-”

“Oh, it will still need large amounts of it if it’s to survive the winter, don’t get me wrong,” Lan Qiren dismisses him, and is that actual amusement in his voice? Is he in enough of a good mood to joke?! Xichen shuffles uncomfortably.

“But no matter how much money someone else might perhaps be willing to pour into it, it would not be enough. If anything has become abundantly clear, it’s that your ideas about this place will not change, no matter what I have to say about the matter.”

“Well, that’s true, Shufu, but-”

“Listen to me, Xichen,” Lan Qiren says so strictly, even accompanies it by raising his hand firmly, that everyone in the room must feel at least a decade younger, and Xichen clamps up, clenching his jaw.

“Good. Now, I once thought we might be able to settle this with just the three of us. Just me, you and Wangji. Clearly, I was wrong. Involving these two -” Mingjue rolls his eyes, not particularly subtly, while Jin Guangyao’s smile ramps up that customer service quality to it, “only complicated things, but ultimately, they were both right, one way or another, although I expect they’d never say it to my face.”

That interests all of them - Mingjue mouths a what, A-Yao cocks one eyebrow, and Xichen and Wangji exchange a look.

“Gusu is no longer my project,” Lan Qiren says evenly, “it never really was, from the start.”

“Shufu, that’s not true-”

“But it is. I was only keeping alive what- what my brother envisioned, and wanted for the two of you. And now that that vision has been secured, my involvement is no longer necessary. While some of you-” a pointed look, this time at Jin Guangyao, who has really perfected his impenetrable facade of sheer politeness, hiding behind it right now, “have attempted to use that argument to convince me to part with Gusu in favor of someone who isn’t you, Xichen, but ultimately, it served the exact opposite purpose.”

“I don’t... understand,” Xichen admits.

“Gusu is yours, Xichen,” their Uncle says plainly, no lawyer talk behind it, no ice in his eyes. “It always has been.”

“But... The shares-”

“My share is yours,” Lan Qiren disarms him thoroughly, “yours in name, but also Wangji’s, of course. You can do with it as you see fit, but unless I’m mistaken, it won’t be the only one that will be passing into your ownership.”

Xichen feels like if he so much as breathes wrong, the illusion will shatter.

Slowly, very slowly, he looks from Uncle to Wangji, who - utterly invisible to everyone else - looks infinitely more at peace than Xichen thinks he’s seen him all summer long... From A-Yao, uncharacteristically quiet hiding behind his laptop, to, finally, Mingjue, who’s smiling at him like he’s daring him - what, like miracles can’t still happen?

“I’m signing over my share, as well,” he says, and when Xichen opens his mouth to protest, he adds, almost joyfully: “What? Like you didn’t see that one coming.”

“I... Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

Xichen thinks he might cry, or laugh, or run out the door and into the woods, but one sore spot remains.

Everyone’s staring at Jin Guangyao now, a picture of innocence there in the corner of the small room, and the part of Xichen that’s twenty still is trying to tell him how tiny he looks, how helpless, but...

Something has been irrevocably shattered between them, for good, and it’s never been more obvious than right here, when Jin Guangyao sighs, hangs his head as he closes his laptop, and offers a smile that’s cursory at best, not even trying very hard to be honest.

“Yes, yes, alright,” he concedes, “as the situation stands, I don’t have much of a choice, do I. I’m not going to turn myself into a comic book villain by clinging to my one measly share. Besides, I’ve been reminded-” and this look is aimed at Mingjue, of all people, hinting at something Xichen is absolutely going to ask about much later, “that I’m more than capable of conducting business my way, rather than my father’s.”

That almost makes Xichen ask, right there and then, but he refrains from it - that bridge, those memories and insecurities, it’s all inaccessible to him now. The A-Yao he once knew, the one who would confide in Xichen, whom Xichen would be more than happy to hear out, is not in this room.

Maybe it’s high time they all came to terms with that.

“You’re wrong,” Xichen tells him, which elicits a confused frown, before he follows it with: “You did have a choice. Thank you for making this one.”

And apparently he still is capable of surprising the man, which just might be enough.

And so, that’s how the story... Well, not quite ends. It’s how it meanders towards some sort of a conclusion - gently, without pomp. Apparently, they’re going to sign things after the summer is over. Apparently life will continue after the summer is over, but it barely feels that way - it barely registers to Xichen that they’re... saved, that this is done, that he doesn’t have to worry now.

He understands what’s happening in theory, but he doesn’t really get why Uncle came to the decision he did - doesn’t get it, that is, until a little later that day, after Wangji and him have accompanied Lan Qiren up to their parents’ house - the agreement to come back here later, just the two of them, to honor their yearly tradition, passes between them wordlessly, but no less firmly - and Xichen watches his Uncle stop in the living room, and breathe in the stale air, as well as the fresh one they’ve let in through the window...

Watches him pick up the photograph off the mantelpiece, the faded one where Xichen is only five on their father’s hip, and Wangji just a tiny bundle in their mother’s arms, and sees something he hasn’t had much luck ever even catching a glimpse of, in Lan Qiren’s eyes - genuine emotion, just a flicker of it, but it is there, nevertheless.

 I was only keeping alive what my brother envisioned, and wanted for the two of you.

“Shufu,” Xichen takes a step forward, miraculously keeps his voice from breaking, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Lan Qiren dismisses him, but it only contains a harmless pinprick of his usual snark, “you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Yes, Shufu, we know,” Xichen chuckles, and when he casts Wangji a look, his brother is smiling - not one of his usual secret half-smiles mere mortals can’t even notice, but an actual, real smile - and that’s really all Xichen needs to be reminded that apparently, sometimes, miracles really do still happen.

“Holy shit, I was right!”

They all see Uncle off, the news somehow having traveled to each and every one of them within the span of about twenty minutes, and Wangji has just finished recounting as much to Wei Ying in hushed tones, the two of them standing a little ways away from the commotion that is Huaisang bidding a very chaotic farewell to his brother.

“So it would seem,” Wangji smiles, trying to figure out if anyone would notice or dare comment were he to hold Wei Ying’s hand in public.

“I cannot believe your Uncle has a heart. I mean, I knew it, but I can’t believe it.”

“Mn,” Wangji concedes, “of course he does.”

Wei Ying cocks his eyebrow.

“Even remembers how to use it, sometimes,” Wangji adds, which prompts delighted laughter.

“Horrible, Lan Zhan! Wanna make out about it?”

Wei Ying poses the question quietly, playfully so, but they both still make sure no one else is listening to their little conversation - they haven’t quite figured out how to even start breaking it to people that they are, as it were, A Thing now.

Simply just making out where everyone can see them is definitely one option, but no matter how secretly thrilled Wangji might be at the prospect of it, he doesn’t really believe it’s the right one.

But before he can officially agree or disagree, Nie Mingjue finally escapes Huaisang’s clutches, and makes his way over to them, to say goodbye.

Wangji likes him, always has, and he also understands just how much of a say, big life changing storm or not, he had in turning the tide of things here, but he need not try and relay it with words - as is his custom, Nie Mingjue claps his shoulder powerfully enough to make him stagger, and his grin is absolutely blinding.

“It was great seeing you again, Wangji. Take care of your brother for me, will ya?”

To that, Wangji means to come up with a constructive answer, but then he catches a flicker of... some sort of feeling in Xichen’s smile at those words, and he ponders whether he should say something else, something about seizing opportunities before they escape you, or not hesitating, but at the end of the day, who is he to talk?

Whatever Xichen and Nie Mingjue have yet to say to each other, they’ll probably do a much better job of it than Wei Ying and him, much faster, too.

He wants to both laugh and groan in frustration still, thinking about how long it took them, about all the time they’ve wasted, all the cues they didn’t get or simply refused to see... But none of it matters now. None of it matters in the light of what they do have, now, finally.

All of it ceased to matter the second he woke up this morning with Wei Ying in his arms, his lazy, sleepy smile only Wangji’s to savor.

“Alright, we’d better be off,” Nie Mingjue announces loudly, snapping Wangji out of his rose-colored daydreaming, and his words are followed by a chorus of wailing led by none other than Huaisang, with the oldest kids acting as effective backup singers. They all watch as Xichen walks Nie Mingjue to his car, as he can’t seem to leave his side, as Nie Mingjue himself takes his sweet time actually getting into the car... One might easily forget the two are not alone, if it weren’t for Jin Guangyao rolling down the window and hurrying them on.

As far as Wangji is concerned, he’ll be more than happy never to see that man again, especially after everything he said to Wei Ying just last night, but among relaying those exact sentiments to him this morning, Wei Ying said something that’s stuck with Wangji - it doesn’t matter now. Let’s cut him some slack.

That just might be the very last thing the man deserves, but for Wei Ying, Wangji will elect not to resort to murder, he supposes. And Jin Guangyao did come around in the end, or rather he folded under the pressure.

Xichen, now he will probably be nursing a soft spot for the man for as long as he lives, and for his sake, too, Wangji can’t wait to see him gone, but as things stand, the three of them, Xichen, Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue, converse one last time, too quietly for them to hear, and they’re all smiling as the car finally pulls away from the main lodge, a wide arch taking it away from them, until it disappears into the forest.

“Are you alright?” Wangji thinks to ask Xichen as their little gathering begins dispersing, and his brother’s smile has his usual somber tinge to it, but it’s otherwise genuine.

“I will be.”

“You could still catch up with him, probably,” Wei Ying offers completely innocently, and Xichen only offers that little oh-you headshake, and they watch him walk back inside without so much as a single word.

“So dramatic,” Huaisang rolls his eyes, as everyone else moves over to Wangji and Wei Ying now, “Da-Ge might still come back for cleanup next week, we’ll lock them in a closet then.”

“I thought we’d agreed that doesn’t work in real life,” Jiang Cheng points out.

“Oh, ye of little faith in overused romantic movie tropes.”

Clean-up week of course refers to the handful of days they get after the kids return home, where most of the Counsellors stay behind, and somehow manage to stretch out the truly strenuous work of cleaning up the campsite into, yes, almost a good week every time - it’s mostly an opportunity for them to say goodbye to Gusu for the year at their own pace, and it’s always absolutely lovely, but...

A, it’s downright impossible  to believe the end of camp is only a few days away now, and B, it occurs to Wangji that he’s neglected to ask Wei Ying if he’s going to be staying for that, too. Well, he kind of automatically assumed, but still...

He means to tap into that incredible wealth of non-verbal communication techniques Wei Ying and him seem to have developed at some point, and make it clear that he wants both of them to disappear from the center of attention, right now, but as it usually goes around here, something else interferes.

“Holy shit.”

That’s Jingyi, earning himself about half a dozen different Language!’s from the adults, but he ignores all of it, simply walking towards them as if in a daze, singularly focused on... something.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Jingyi, buddy, are you alright?” Wei Ying laughs, “what’s the matter?”

“Sizhui, I can’t believe it,” Jingyi addresses his currently slightly confused friend, who trots up to his side, simultaneously trying to get him to stop, and following with growing curiosity.

“Believe what? What is it?”

“Took you long enough,” Nie Huaisang laughs, evidently on Jingyi’s exact wavelength, sadly one that no one else seems to share at the moment.

“What’s going on?” Jiang Cheng scowls, turning from Huaisang to Jingyi, voicing everyone else’s puzzlement.

“Jingyi? What do you see?”

“This is it,” Jingyi walks right up to Huaisang, who, for some reason, lets him snatch his ubiquitous fan right out of his hand. “I can’t believe it’s been right here, right in front of our eyes, this entire time!”

“What has?” Sizhui sighs, slightly agitated, since their little scene has now begun attracting the other kids’ attention.

“Look at it!” Jingyi exclaims victoriously, spreading out the fan with one... weirdly skilled flick of his wrist, “it’s the last trophy! It’s the green dragon! Right on this goddamn fan, this whole time!”

“I mean, that’s not...” Sizhui wants to protest, but then he apparently takes a closer look at the beautiful ancient painting adorning Huaisang’s fan, and they all watch as his eyes grow about three sizes.

“That’s not...” he repeats, “it can’t be... Is it?”

All eyes turn to Nie Huaisang, who, for his part, looks incredibly pleased, and Wangji is reminded once again that this has been his goal all along - not to frustrate the kids, but excite them, keep them busy, and ultimately to give them this much of a sense of accomplishment.

“Like I said,” Huaisang smiles, and half the campsite seems to be hanging on his every word, “took you long enough. Well done, Jingyi.”

The kids explode - someone cheers first, loud and shrill, and others join in, until the very treetops are shaking with it, and soon everyone is in the central square, shouting and pressing up on one another, so much so that the Counsellors have their hands full keeping them still...

And yet again, all of Gusu seems to hold its breath as Huaisang pulls out the very last card of his game, and places it in Jingyi’s hands, the boy reverent and excited almost to the point of tears.

“You think this is a good time to tell Jingyi we’ve been considering Sizhui and him for Junior Counsellors next year?” Wei Ying whispers in Wangji’s ear, which prompts laughter before he can stop himself, and he doesn’t even notice at first - that Wei Ying has grabbed hold of his hand, here, in front of everyone...

But then again, no one is paying attention to them just this once , and it proves incredibly easy to do what Wangji has wanted to snatch the opportunity for all this time, and sneak away.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying feigns indignation, but fails even before he started, because he’s laughing as well, and tripping over his own feet as Wangji more or less drags him around the back of the main lodge to a spot where no one but the chickens in their coops will find them for a good long while.

He supposes the astonishment at being allowed to just hold Wei Ying, bring him near and have him give in not only willingly, but enthusiastically, will have to fade somewhat, at some point, but as of right now, Wangji fully enjoys the thrill of it.

The kids’ excited chatter and laughter mingles with the usual sounds of the forest, all of it providing nothing but a distant backdrop to the pounding of Wangji’s heart in his ears as he continues on his mission to kiss Wei Ying senseless, which meets with nothing but unbridled joy, and Wangji thinks, it’s been years.

For years, I’ve imagined how we might end up, how... this might feel, and still, nothing could have prepared me.

A different voice whispers of insecurities, it’s only been, what, a couple of hours, but he succeeds at quelling that one - or rather, Wei Ying does the job for him, laughing against Wangji’s lips, his eyes gleaming when they do, after all, part for some fresh air.

“Lan Zhan, so irresponsible, running away like that,” he scolds Wangji playfully, “what am I going to do with you?”

And he kisses Wangji on the nose, of all places, then his cheek, then his forehead, like he, too, is simply trying to convince himself that this is real, and that it’s happening.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji mumbles, suddenly finding himself a little bit impaired when it comes to effectively wording his thoughts, “I wanted to ask you...”

“Mm? What, Lan Zhan?”

“Will you stay? After... Sunday.”

Sunday is the day all the parents arrive to pick up their children, and it simultaneously feels years away, and like it might arrive in a flash when one’s not looking - it’s also a sort of waypoint, a turning point, even, because trying to think of what will be after Sunday is... nearly impossible. Only a little bit of August to go? The beginning of September, that Wangji decided long before the start of the camp he would spend here, with just the Wens and his schoolwork? The rest of their lives...?

Everything is different now, with Wei Ying in the equation, and Wangji realizes he dreads finding out if Wei Ying feels the same.

To his credit, Wei Ying’s smile barely falters, but he does take a second too long to find his words, his eyes darting away in the process, even as his arms slide from around Wangji’s neck, until his hands are resting gently on Wangji’s chest.

Round on the other side of the building, the kids must have started a stampede or something, judging by the amount of noise, and they both glance that way, briefly considering returning there, but Wei Ying clearly has some things to say yet.

“I want to,” he smiles, “I mean Jiang Cheng is basically forcing me to go back to Yunmeng with him after, and he’s staying, so... I mean, yeah. Yes. But that’s not- Do you remember what I said back then? That- that I didn’t know if I would be able to come back?”

If Wangji were to reveal the full extent of his nightmares about that particular line, what now feels like a year ago, by that lake at night during the canoe trip, he’s dead certain he’d chase Wei Ying off for good, so he simply nods, trying not to let the knot of nerves in his stomach overpower him.

“I meant it, but that was obviously before I knew that this would... That was while I kind of believed you all would be better off if I didn’t come back, anyway- okay, I know, Lan Zhan, do not look at me like that, nobody ever said I was any good at this, and-”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji sighs, wrapping his arms around him just a little tighter, gentle but firm, “I understand, but.”

“But?”

“But please, you understand this - no one is better off without you. Least of all me.”

He means every word of that - in his opinion - very clear and simple statement, but Wei Ying appears as if he’s been struck by lightning. He wants to offer some sort of quick response, but his words seem to get physically stuck in his throat, and he turns beet red, and is that- are those tears in his eyes?!

God, Wangji will never get tired of exploring all the reactions he’s capable of eliciting from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he protests feebly, then, with a bit more feeling: “Lan Wangji! You have to warn me, next time, before you say something so romantic! Fuck!”

“Apologies,” Wangji grins, and after that he knows - all this time he spent thinking about all the things he might say were he given the chance...

Well, Wei Ying will get to hear all of them, one by one, and get the opportunity to respond in kind, and maybe that’ll be enough to get them started.

Which is, of course, a little easier said than done - there’s simply so much work left to do in those very last days of camp, and too many people to do it around, for them to sneak off like this too often.

That very evening, they get to witness the oldest kids solving that one last scavenger hunt riddle, Jingyi’s victorious scream effectively rousing half the campsite - not that they weren’t watching anyway, the boys having gathered quite the audience as they spread out all the cards gained over the course of the summer in front of their cabin, and worked on a solution to the mystery hidden within them.

Not even the Counsellors were ever privy to the truth, and so they all get unduly excited when Sizhui and Jingyi figure it out - someone even miraculously comes equipped with a blacklight necessary to reveal the secret writing on all the cards put together, which in turn then reveals a map to... what exactly?

Nobody knows, but they very quickly decide to forgo any and all evening plans to gather the kids and figure it out, everybody following Sizhui and Jingyi as they lead the way into the forest, up to the rocks and the waterfall, even the Counsellors in on the thrill of it, with only Huaisang left sauntering lazily behind them, smiling very innocently.

The elaborate treasure leaves even the adults surprised - Huaisang evidently spared no expense, and there’s an actual ancient-looking chest buried in the crevasse beyond the waterfall, and the rabbits watch them very curiously as they heave it up and carry it back to the campsite.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Jiang Cheng actually sounds impressed when the kids finally get the thing open.

“How come we don’t get those?” Wen Ning pouts.

“Come on, it took them six weeks,” Wen Qing points out.

There’s enough goodie bags for everyone, stuffed full of minor camping gear, from travel mugs to snacks, from carabiners to pocket flashlights (“I do not remember budgeting for this,” Xichen says feebly), but the real treasure comes in the form of Gusu Scavenger Hunt Master t-shirts that Huaisang had made, and as if the result of the whole thing was always just a little bit expected, there’s only three of those. 

Sizhui, Jingyi and Zizhen all put them on with unabashed, pure pride in their eyes, and it’s there, near that fire pit, with all the kids chatting and cheering and celebrating, that Wangji truly realizes it for the first time - that this really is ending.

Oh, they still have, what, two whole days to go until Saturday evening and the actual finale, the fire and the lanterns - and where are they going to do the lanterns, the pier is almost gone - but there’s always a moment like this, while racing towards that end, that reminds him - they’ve made it this far. They’ve made it.

Wei Ying and him sit side by side by the fire that night, lit mostly to burn all the branches the storm broke off, and play together like they’ve always done, and there’s never enough time to grab his hand and pull him away again, but it doesn’t matter.

Wangji watches the firelight reflected in his eyes, making them gleam golden, and thinks of all the other times he’s watched him like this over the years, something between them unfinished, unsaid.

Wei Ying sits with the oldest boys now, listening intently to their heated discussion about... something, but he still catches Wangji’s gaze and smiles at him, like all of him isn’t in that smile, like there isn’t the rest of the campsite to worry about, because surely they’ll see... Wangji feels his own lips spreading into a similar smile, and that’s all the confirmation he needs right now - nothing, and no one, else matters.

“I’m glad you two have worked it out, Wangji.”

Right, that’s Xichen, actually sitting right next to him and thus bearing witness to how lovesick he must probably look, but Wangji doesn’t have anything but a smile for him, either.

He might know everything, or nothing at all, but again - it doesn’t really matter.

“Mn. We have.”

He wants to tell everyone, say it loud and clear, just how lucky he feels, but he’ll settle for just playing his guitar some more, and waiting for the harmonica to inevitably join in.

“...And what about you, Wei-Gege? You’ll be back next year, right?”

Despite himself, Wangji feels the tiniest, faintest tug of worry at those words, and he looks over to where Sizhui is eagerly waiting for a reply - Wei Ying offers his usual half smile, but then he catches Wangji’s eye, seems to get lost in that brief moment of connection between them, just as Wangji finds himself lost, and that’s it.

“...You bet,” Wei Ying replies a bit dazedly, not even properly looking at Sizhui, “wouldn’t miss it for the world. Who else would keep you in line?”

The kids laugh and cheer, but then the meaning behind Wei Ying’s words actually catches up with them, and it’s hilarious, watching them freeze, watching Xichen freeze as well, we wanted to tell them a bit differently, watching them react when the very Camp Leader himself hurriedly takes them aside to talk to them about the position of Junior Counsellor...

“Oops,” Wei Ying scowls apologetically, “well, at least they’ll be real happy now.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” Wei Ying asks, settling into a comfortable slouch by Wangji’s side, using his guitar to somewhat hide the fact that he goes in to full-on lean on him.

“About next year. And coming back.”

Wangji’s fingers are hovering over the strings of his instrument, and for some reason, Wei Ying looks from his eyes to them, briefly covering them with his own, like he’s just searching for a chord he doesn’t know how to play.

“I guess. If you’ll- if Gusu will have me.”

Wangji wants to shove his guitar aside and kind of just hold Wei Ying right there and then, but he refrains, opting only to grant him his steadiest, most serious stare.

“Gusu will. I will.”

That meets with the expected reaction, Wei Ying going for a laugh first but ending up flustered and complaining about Wangji being too direct, and too romantic, and too much, and yeah, it’s enough.

It’s enough to know that there is, in fact, a next year, a next week, a tomorrow.

Wangji would kiss him about it, but as things stand, he only searches for a familiar melody, and before long, the keening tones of a harmonica join the gentle chords of his guitar, and just like that, their melodies rising to the treetops alongside the sparks and embers of the bonfire like fireflies in the night, the summer slowly, softly comes to an end.

Chapter Text

“Wangji. Relax.”

He tears his eyes away from the mounting preparations before him, the general mess of everyone trying to make sure everything works out, all at once, and spares a look for his brother, who, for his part, looks utterly at peace for once.

“I’m fine,” he protests, only now realizing the amount of tension he’s carrying in his shoulders.

“Sure you are,” Xichen smiles, “don’t worry so much, we’ve got this. We’re almost done here, and I’m almost sure we’re not going to burn down the forest.”

That’s easier said than done - the pier, which used to serve as the launching pad for the lanterns, that very last ritual before the summer ends for the kids, now lies in absolute ruin - not only did it look lovely, the oldest kids all gathering in one slightly unsteady heap at the edge of it and preparing their lanterns, but it also served a practical purpose, in that the lanterns usually made it high up enough to avoid the surrounding trees entirely, or simply collapsed back into the lake.

This year, however, it was someone’s brilliant idea (Huaisang, it was definitely Huaisang) to bring the lake to them, and load all the oldest kids into the canoes, paddle them into the middle of the immense expanse of water, and do the ritual there while everyone else waits and watches from dry land.

It’s only fun and charming in theory.

“Jingyi, I swear to any god that’s listening, I will toss you overboard and no one will ever find you again, Junior Counsellor forthcoming or not.”

Looking at Wei Ying calms him down somewhat, it always does - he’s currently embroiled in a bit of a scuffle between the kids, who seem to have some trouble deciding how to share the boats. Under Wei Ying’s playfully strict leadership, they quickly come to some sort of a compromise, though, and before Wangji knows it, the two of them are supposed to get into their own boat, and lead their gaggle of children to a hopefully successful conclusion to the summer.

“Ready?” Wei Ying asks him, looking himself rather like a revelation in the itchy Gusu blue they all wore for the occasion, and Wangji looks at him dumbly for a moment out of time, incapable of answering.

Ready to get into the boat with him? Probably, yes.

Ready for this to end, ready to only have a couple more days together before he has to somehow figure out a way to say goodbye?

...Better to just get into the damn canoe, and figure out all the other answers later.

All in all, it works out just as one might expect.

There are seven canoes in total, five full of kids, one Wei Ying’s and his own, and one Xichen’s, and they succeed at sort of sticking together without anyone’s boat capsizing. The water is really calm and really, really deep out here, and the hooting and hollering coming from the shore is distant, and unintelligible.

“Alright, everyone, pipe down,” Wei Ying works wonders at keeping everyone quiet enough to start paying attention to Xichen - the hush that passes over them feels somehow heavy, and momentous, like they don’t actually want to listen, like they all have butterflies in their stomachs, like they all know, just like Wangji knows, this is all going to be over far too soon.

He wants to reach out for Wei Ying, if only to hold his hand, but as things stand, he can only concentrate on keeping the canoe in one place.

“Thank you,” Xichen smiles, “alright, the time has come, difficult as it is to believe. Welcome to the end of your summer.”

Somebody whimpers almost comically, the intensity of it too much - probably Zizhen.

“Most of you have been coming here for years and years, grew up here, even. But even for those of you who haven’t, I just want you to know that Gusu will always be here. Just because you’re now too old to come back as a camper, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t come back. If you like. You’ll always be welcome here, in one capacity or another. Ready to send off this year?”

“No,” Zizhen mumbles through very visible tears, which earns him equally emotional laughter, punctuated by a sniff here and there.

“Go on, then,” Wei Ying says, himself sounding a bit fragile, “before you cry all over your damn lanterns.”

“Light them carefully,” Wangji instructs.

“Yeah, not like we have endless gallons of water to put them out everywhere around us, or anything,” Wei Ying adds.

That prompts more laughter, and also the somewhat chaotic actual lighting of the lanterns, with varying degrees of success. Both Wangji’s and Xichen’s boats come equipped with plenty of spare ones, just in case, which Sizhui and Jingyi end up needing almost immediately, their first attempt ending in a soggy mess.

“This doesn’t mean anything!” Jingyi announces tearfully as Wangji steers his canoe towards them to offer a spare, “this doesn’t mean a thing!”

“You should light one, too,” Sizhui says as Wei Ying hands him a new lantern, and he shakes his head.

“No, no, this is your thing. I did mine, uhh... many years ago.”

“Go on,” Xichen has heard, and urges him on, sending a look Wangji’s way.

“Well, I mean...” Wei Ying sounds a bit uncertain all of a sudden, before his eyes settle on Wangji, and he inclines his head. “Do you wanna?”

“Yeah, do it, Wei-Gege! Lan-Gege!”

“Come on, light one with us!”

Wangji need only to nod, which, thank god, because he can’t vouch for what might come out of his mouth - the amount of emotion he’s currently overcome with is probably enough to sink the boat if he’s not careful.

“Alright then,” Wei Ying exhales, somewhat shaky, then, a bit more excited: “Alright then! Hand it over.”

There are a number of moments Wangji will always remember from his time here, be it from a year, two, a decade, ago, and this certainly earns its place among those - somehow, everybody else manages to light their lantern without a hitch. Somehow, Wei Ying and him manage the same, the boat behaving for once, staying put surrounded by everyone else.

Somehow, Wangji manages not to combust from sheer affection as Wei Ying and him hold the lantern between them, waiting for it to fill with hot air enough to rise and float. He can barely see Wei Ying’s face over the top of it, but he knows his smile mirrors his own.

“Everybody ready?” Xichen asks, “alright, release them.”

There’s no rabbit on their lantern now, but Wangji’s eyes still follow it after they raise it up as high as it will go, and let go of it, everybody holding their breath for that one silent moment before physics kick into place and all the lanterns float, and rise, and fly away.

He suddenly forgets what he was so worried about, because the little flock of them looks amazing, rising so high up above the lake, to a complete, almost reverent, silence.

Ever so faintly, they hear applause from the shore, and that is enough for Wangji to tear his eyes away from the lanterns and look to Wei Ying instead - Wei Ying, who’s watching him in turn, eyes a bit too glossy to just be attributed to the excitement.

Years ago, Wangji was the one to watch him like this, and he can’t say it feels bad to be on the receiving end of this kind of a look.

He smiles, and hopes it conveys what he means to say, but can’t right now.

Wei Ying nods, his smile still a bit on the watery side - it does.

The time between they row back to shore, and the very last bonfire is lit, seems to stampede ahead at the speed of light. Logistically, the fact that the children are all leaving tomorrow, means they actually have to be mostly ready today, and so one simple rule is always implemented - whosoever wants to partake not only in the bonfire, but the celebrations following right after, not to mention the privilege to sleep not inside, but under the stars tonight, must be all packed before the dinner bell, and that takes up all of Wangji’s time to organize and help with...

And before he knows it, he’s watching Jiang Cheng, Wen Ning and Nie Huisang carry a torch each to light the truly impressive bonfire they’ve built, and the silence is here this time, too... Until, of course, it isn’t, and Wei Wuxian’s harmonica joins his guitar once again, alongside dozens of mismatched child voices, and that’s it.

Wangji doesn’t expect to get Wei Ying to himself for a moment that night - they’d agreed beforehand, after all, they’d be by the kids’ side as much as possible, making this last evening memorable for them - and so he’s more than pleasantly surprised when he’s proven wrong.

They manage to sneak off to sit by the lake, far enough away from anyone else - come on, Lan Zhan, you and I both know there comes a point when the kids don’t want to talk to us, anymore - and it’s not one of their most momentous little encounters, since there’s still quite a lot of traffic everywhere around them, but it’s quiet, and gentle, and theirs.

Wei Ying tries stringing together new melodies on the harmonica, sitting barefoot and cross legged in the grass, and Wangji tries to imprint all of them into his memory, but fails most of the time, simply by virtue of being more interested in watching, rather than listening.

He simultaneously feels like everything that ever needed to be said between the two of them, finally has been, and like there never will be enough words, so he remains silent for the time being.

“You know what’s funny, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying pipes up, scooting a bit closer - somewhere behind them, a group of children bursts into laughter, only to be promptly shushed by someone, since it’s past even the extended curfew now, and they both look that way, briefly.

“What is it?”

“Your brother once tried... Look, I don’t remember the exact words, okay, but he did try to make me say what it was I really wanted.”

Wangji sits up straighter, despite himself.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t answer him at the time, because how could I.”

“And now?” Wangji asks, surprised with himself that he’s even capable of actually asking what he actually wants to know.

“Now, I’m...” Wei Ying starts, only to stop himself a bit abruptly, like he only just noticed something in Wangji’s face that he hadn’t seen before, and watches him silently, with the faintest smile on his face, before looking this way and that, like he’s checking for spies.

“Now, I’m pretty sure I just wanna do this, for as long as I’m allowed.”

The kiss is far too quick and a bit clumsy, both of them still rightfully worried about being discovered by the prying eyes of unsuspecting but no less gossip-prone children, but it’s still lovely.

“...If that’s what you want,” Wangji smirks after having regained his balance, and this, too, has become some sort of a mantra of theirs - whatever you want, you may have. Just be sure of it, and tell me if anything changes.

It just might be enough, Wangji thinks as they get up and walk back to the campsite hand in hand, to make him believe that no matter how far away Wei Ying inevitably goes, he’ll find his way back to him.

The fact that the summer is ending - really, actually ending - usually doesn’t hit him until this: cars upon cars swarming the square in front of the main lodge, which is quickly starting to fail to accommodate them, kids dragging their parents here and there, his own endless paperwork to ensure everyone returns home smoothly, and the laughter, and even the tears.

This year, of all the years, it strikes him a bit harder - that they really have made it this far, they made it through, and just how much it cost them. It’s endless relief, mingled with a hefty amount of melancholy, but it’s a feeling so familiar it actually makes Xichen happy.

All of his Counsellors are out in the field, so to speak, speckles of Gusu blue among the crowd while Xichen receives anyone and everyone with last-minute questions or paperwork that needs dealing with in the dining hall, Wen Qing sitting with him and handing out leftover medication and health reports to those who need it. For the last time this summer, Gusu works like a well-oiled machine.

“Lan-zong, we’re leaving.”

Some kids leave in style, and that definitely includes Jingyi - seemingly his entire extended family, which is also a part of Xichen’s, by virtue of Jingyi’s father, is now pouring into the dining hall, and Xichen spends a good long while greeting everyone, people he hasn’t seen in an age and a half asking him questions that are, for his tastes, a bit too personal. He just hopes nobody from the family decides to get married any time soon, because those gatherings are always hell. Here, at least, he gets to be the one in charge.

“Right, that’s everything, I think,” he declares firmly before he has to answer one more question about his own non-existent love life, “Sizhui, you’re going with?”

“Yeah, I get to stay with Jingyi for a couple of days,” Sizhui, who looks a bit like he might have been happy-crying just a minute ago, nods, and Wen Qing adds: “We’ll be picking him up after cleanup week.”

“Well, that’s good,” Xichen smiles, “you boys have fun, and we’ll see you here next year?”

That seems to bring some excitement back into their eyes, and they shake his hands vigorously, and then they, too, are off. Xichen only catches a glimpse of Wangji and Wei Wuxian intercepting them for one last goodbye as he walks them out of the lodge, and that’s it.

“Excuse me, I’m here to pick up my idiot brother.”

“Uh, of course, that’s...” Xichen’s mouth gets ahead of his brain, before he turns, and sees.

“Mingjue!” he might sound a bit too excited, “you made it back!”

“I did,” he’s grinning at Xichen, peeking over his aviators like he means to make him weak in public.

“But I thought Huaisang was staying for the cleanup...?” he asks a bit dumbly, and Mingjue laughs.

“Of course he is. And so am I. Can I... do you have a moment?”

“Uh,” Xichen looks at all the commotion around him, and deems it completely unimportant right now. “Yeah.”

He leads Mingjue up the stairs, sending only a vague I’ll be back Wen Qing’s way - who, for her part, takes one look at them and probably draws her own conclusions, simply waving them off - and then they’re shutting the door of Xichen’s office behind them, and this, too, feels like someone really wanted to make sure this summer would end as unpredictably as humanly possible.

“I actually, uh...” Mingjue suddenly appears nervous, which is a look so unlike him, Xichen is immediately intrigued. “You know what, you’re busy. I picked the weirdest time to show up. This can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. Tell me now,” Xichen says so swiftly it’s like the words are punched out of him, and he doesn’t really know what he’s expecting, but the thrill is still there. Mingjue huffs a laugh, like he’s surprised, and rakes his hand through his hair.

“Alright,” he exhales, “yeah. The thing is... God, Huaisang was right, I really should have done this before I left the last time.”

“Done what?” Xichen can’t quite contain his grin, even though technically speaking, he still has no clue what Mingjue is talking about, but the look Mingjue casts him accuses him of the exact opposite - won’t make this easy on me, will you?

“Look, I- you know I suck at this,” he continues a bit unsteadily, “but... it’s finished. I finally signed the paperwork, and got the move approved. The headquarters, Xichen. Of the company.”

“...Huh,” Xichen manages. Now he’s feeling a bit unsteady. “Well, that’s... great? Congratulations?”

“We’re moving here. Back home. Back to Cayi Town. It took a lot of restructuring, but it’s done, and I can...”

Xichen chuckles, shaking his head against the silly presumptions forming in his head.

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense,” he accuses Mingjue, “are you saying you’ll... Oh. Oh, that is what you’re saying. You’re coming back... home?”

Mingjue’s smile is a bit bashful, and a bit incredibly bright, both very good looks on him.

“I am. Look, I- It took coming back here, alright? To realize how much I need to be... back here. My job was killing me. I just want to not die of a heart attack before the age of thirty five, you know? And I also really want to have the time to come here in the summer, and spend weeks... hell, sleeping on the floor again, if that’s what it takes.”

Xichen laughs with him, although it has a slightly watery quality to it. Damn the kids, making him preemptively emotional.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something a little more comfortable.”

“Well, that’s a relief. You know what else will be a relief? Not seeing your face only every other month on grainy video calls. That’s what I want. And I also really want to help you make sure this damn place gets through the winter. Already got some ideas about that. But mostly I... I want to take you out to dinner, and keep taking you out to dinner if you like it, and I realize I’m telling you all of this in the middle of a super busy day, and you have every right to kick me the fuck out, I’ll understand, but... That’s what I want.”

“Oh,” Xichen is reminded all at once, that apparently this is also within the allotted amount of good things he’s allowed to have. Moreover, this might easily be the most words he’s heard from Mingjue all year long, and he’s thrilled.

“You’re sure?” he still thinks to ask, and Mingjue is watching him like he’s seeing him for the first time, which might in fact be mutual. This feels simultaneously familiar and like nothing they’ve ever done before.

“Yeah!” he says so bluntly it makes both of them laugh, again, then, a bit more quietly, a bit more seriously: “Yeah. Look, I... You’re it, Xichen. I don’t understand how I could spend years upon years believing anything else. I mean, I know what we said when we were what, eighteen? But we were young, and I for one was supremely stupid. And then you started dating A-Yao, and you were- You were happy, yes? For a time?”

Xichen looks away, briefly. The chatter and laughter from outside is coming in as nothing more than background noise.

“For a time,” he concedes.

“Yeah,” Mingjue is watching him like he knows, like he’s seen through him even without Xichen himself ever divulging much - which wouldn’t be all that surprising, come to think of it.

“Look, I know things are different,” Mingjue continues, “but maybe that’s good, right? Maybe I kind of want to forget some of the things I said when I was a teenager, and I want to tell you new things, and I think if we just gave it a shot...”

His voice kind of peters out as Xichen steps closer to him, and gambles everything on reaching out for him, taking his hand in his own.

“Mingjue,” he says softly, and then, another gamble, “Da-Gege. Just tell me what you want.”

Mingjue huffs like he’s giving up, like he’s just finished a run he didn’t even know he was in, and their fingers entwine.

“I want to stay for the week,” he says quietly.

“That’s a given,” Xichen smiles, “you’ll have somewhere else to sleep than the floor, too. Anything else?”

“I really do want to take you out to dinner, once we’re back in the city. Would you like that?”

Xichen looks up, and it’s just the two of them, so Mingjue lets him see a vulnerability in his eyes he’d never disclose otherwise.

“Yeah,” Xichen exhales, “I’d really like that.”

“Oh,” Mingjue sighs like all air has just been punched out of his lungs, “good. That’s good. One more thing...?”

“What is it?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His grin is really threatening to split his cheeks now, and he doesn’t even remember when last a smile of his felt so genuine.

“I’d really like that, too,” he replies.

And then Mingjue kisses him. And then everything makes sense.

Wei Wuxian refuses to be nervous - he refuses to be nervous so vehemently, in fact, it surprises even himself, moreso that it seems to actually work. Sunday is a mess, of last minute packing, chasing kids and their parents here and there and trying to tell them as politely as possible that they absolutely have to come back to their assigned cabins and sweep up the mess you left under the bed before you leave, and as a result, there’s not a whole lot of room for... emotion.

Oh, they get plenty emotional when bidding farewell to some of their favorites, Sizhui, Jingyi, Zizhen, A-Qing and the rest of their last-year kids all but draping themselves all over him and Lan Zhan and refusing to leave, but it’s good. It’s really nice, if a bit snotty sometimes.

But truly, it doesn’t hit him until after they’ve waved off the very last of the cars carrying away the very last of the kids, and it’s just them left behind, standing in the now utterly empty main square sometime after lunch - this is over, he’s lasted this long, and the thought of leaving here only a couple days later is unthinkable.

That’s when he tells himself he’s absolutely not going to be nervous about the prospect, and enjoy the time they have left, instead.

That evening, they drink - cleanup week really is supposed to be a week, and from what Wei Wuxian quickly comes to understand, this mainly means stretching out about two days’ worth of work into easily three times that. And so, in keeping with tradition, that first day, they only strip all the beds in all the cabins and tents bare, and lounge around waiting to help Granny Wen hang up the immense amount of resulting laundry... And yes, when that is over and done with, they drink.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Huaisang proclaims loudly, in the middle of setting up yet another one of his extremely elaborate games involving an indeterminate amount of solo cups and ping pong balls, “all things considered, this was a good year for bets. The drama helps a lot.”

“You’re the only one who ever got rich off them, so I beg to differ,” Jiang Cheng chimes in, and it sounds bitter, but he, too, looks at ease, holding Huaisang’s stack of cups for him as he goes about his preparations, and earns himself an exaggerated pout.

“You of all people should be thanking me,” Huaisang reminds him, “I roped you in on so many wins. Who told you to bet for Lan Qiren showing up, huh? And Da-ge? Huh? Huh?”

“You bet on me?” Nie Mingjue pipes up, utterly immersed in... something Lan Xichen was showing him on his phone until then.

“Of course!” Huaisang smiles, a picture of innocence, “for you, against you... You know how it is.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or concerned,” Nie Mingjue grumbles, and his baby brother winks at him.

“Da-Ge was the wild unpredictable variable?” Wei Wuxian adds, he himself a winner of at least three different wagers over the course of the summer, mostly set up by Huaisang and him to annoy Jiang Cheng in various crafty ways. “Nobody bet on me for packing up in the middle of camp and leaving, or something?”

Next to him, he feels Lan Zhan stiffen up a little bit, a state of being he quickly dispels by sneaking his hand to rest on his knee under the table. He’s so thrilled about pulling that off that he almost doesn’t notice the... very noticeable lack of a reaction from everyone else.

“What, really?” he prods on, “nobody? Easy money?”

“Oh, we bet on you, alright,” Jiang Cheng informs him, “just... not on that.”

“Ooh,” Wei Wuxian leans forward, “how exciting! What then? What was it? How many kids I’d manage to injure? How many times I’d accidentally swear in front of them?”

“You are way off base,” Wen Qing informs him.

“Am I- I am? Guys! What was it?”

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng shakes his head, “week’s not over yet.”

“Huh? What? What happens when the week’s over?”

“Leave it be,” his brother instructs him sourly.

“Unless,” Huaisang says completely innocently, finished with building his game now, and twirling one bright orange ping pong ball between his fingers, watching Wei Wuxian like he’s just another part of the endless machinations going on behind that babyfaced exterior.

“Unless what?”

Game forgotten, Huaisang trots over to their table, sitting down in front of Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan, and stares. Despite himself, Wei Wuxian finds himself shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, while Lan Zhan’s expression remains completely impenetrable - to an outsider’s eye, anyway.

“You know,” Wei Wuxian accuses him, and then, when that meets with an underreaction so powerful it leaves his head spinning: “Lan Zhan! Tell me this instant!”

“You know?” Huaisang looks, for once in his life, genuinely surprised.

“Of course he knows,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes.

“Guys, I don’t know! What was the bet?!” Wei Wuxian demands desperately, and all eyes turn to him, including Lan Zhan’s.

“Wei Ying,” he sounds almost apologetic, “I think it was on us.”

The whole entire room seems to take a deep breath, and all eyes are on Wei Wuxian now, who’s currently having some trouble processing - a bet, on Lan Zhan and him? On us...?

Oh.

The laughter that seizes him genuinely makes it difficult to breathe for a hot second, to the point that he sees a glimpse of actual concern in Lan Zhan’s eyes, and reassures him by squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, oh my god,” he wheezes, “I can’t believe you bet on us. Tell me, tell me, who had us not touching each other with a ten foot pole for the whole entire goddamn summer?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan appears a bit offended, but if the tips of his ears tinting a dusty pink are anything to go by, he’s not as opposed to this whole idea as he might look. Besides, somehow, he knew.

“I hate him,” Wen Qing announces broadly.

“Join the club,” Jiang Cheng groans.

“Wait, so... you’re not together yet?” Huaisang sounds genuinely confused, also a new look on him, which prompts even more laughter from Wei Wuxian.

“Me? Corrupt the ever-righteous Lan Wangji right before your very eyes? How could I-”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts him, and this time, it sounds stern.

They never actually properly talked about how they might tell everyone, or if they even wanted to - come to think of it, the one thing they’ve managed to agree upon these past couple of days, was that they definitely didn’t want anyone to catch them, if only for the thrill of it, and adjusted their behavior accordingly. But now, looking into Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Wuxian gets the sense that...

“Wait,” he says, and it comes out a bit hoarser than he’d intended, “I mean... I thought you didn’t want... Are we doing this? Is this happening?”

And as far as his wretched luck goes, Lan Zhan kissing him in place of a proper answer, right there, in front of everyone, just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It’s his turn to go absolutely beet red when that’s over, and hide his face in his hands, and against Lan Zhan’s chest, and yeah, that meets with... various reactions, but most of them are along the lines of holy shit, finally anyway.

So yeah. That’s apparently how it feels to be happy in the public eye, and where Wei Wuxian might have expected things to change somehow, they really, really don’t. If anything, he’s the target of even more teasing now, but he doesn’t really care, because he can actually hold Lan Zhan’s hand in front of other people. He can lean into him whenever they sit together - and they never sit apart now - and nose at his neck until someone starts coughing loudly enough to get the point across that they might want to slow down on the PDA...

And he gets to be with Lan Zhan, really be with him, and try out for himself what that’s like.

Turns out, absolutely fucking amazing.

There’s a whole lot of cleaning to be done in the coming days, not only indoors, but around the campsite and the surrounding forests, too, and Lan Zhan and him merrily appoint themselves to take care of the outdoors parts of it, officially making sure the kids haven’t left a mess in the form of, usually, smuggled sweets wrappers anywhere in the usually pristine nature, and removing some of the rope bridges and stuff... Unofficially though, it serves as a great opportunity to get away, and, well, really crank up the PDA, for one, but also to just... be. There’s so many quiet places to just sit down and talk, and they’re very proficient at that, talking. Now that they know how.

“Lan Zhan, you did not,” Wei Wuxian accuses him, trying to turn in their embrace, Lan Zhan’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, Wei Wuxian’s back to his chest. They’re sitting where the rabbits are, leaning against a tree and watching the critters do their thing, but also apparently learning about Lan Zhan’s rebellious streak in the process. “I refuse to believe that. Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“No pictures, unfortunately,” Lan Zhan sounds incredibly pleased with himself, “but it did happen. There is no actual rule against it, either.”

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me that a campus full of lawyers doesn’t have a rule against impromptu petty concerts?”

“Impromptu concerts are encouraged, actually,” Lan Zhan hums, idly stroking Wei Wuxian’s arm, “as for the pettiness factor, we couldn’t have known we were playing right under Professor Yao’s windows, right in the middle of an important conference call. Very loudly.”

“Ri-ight,” Wei Wuxian grins, “I would have paid good money to see that.”

“Actually, you should just join us, next time.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian guffaws, “join your little band of musician-lawyer friends? How would that look? They’d expel you for sure.”

“Mn. Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re there.”

Wei Wuxian really wants to say more, but it assaults him when he least expects it, these days - the slow-boiling enormity of the fact that Lan Zhan actually likes him, and likes him this much, and wants him to be around. God, he’s really going to have to get better at reining in his emotions, or something.

“Lan Zhan,” he says hoarsely, “what did we say about blurting out romantic shit like that out of the blue?”

“My apologies,” comes a very insincere response, and Lan Zhan plants a kiss in Wei Wuxian’s hair.

“You’re not sorry at all.”

“Mm. No.”

“Horrible, Lan Zhan.”

They proceed to give the rabbits something to look at for the next however many minutes, but eventually, there’s too many pine needles and too little space to make this comfortable, and so they reluctantly get back up, dust off, and head back to camp, hand in carefree hand.

“You know what,” Wei Wuxian decides, “I’d like that. Going to see your uni with you. Pretend I’m a student again for a day. We’d drink cafeteria coffee and, and, I don’t know... Read library books? Ooh, make out in the library as quietly as possible? Do people still do that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lan Zhan smiles, his thumb stroking circles into the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Oh, well then we definitely have to try that.”

“If you like,” Lan Zhan says mildly, then, with a smidge more tension: “What about you, and school? Did you not want to get a degree?”

“Ah, well now,” Wei Wuxian falters, but only briefly, “there’s a topic. I guess I never gave it much thought... Well, that’s not true. I gave it some thought, but seeing as I sort of had to start working the day I left home, I couldn’t really pick and choose my majors, you know. Didn’t have the time, or the money. Still don’t.”

Lan Zhan walks silently for a moment, and Wei Wuxian braves looking at his face - lost in thought and handsome, a dangerous combination. Also dangerous, blabbing his mouth like this, but... but not with Lan Zhan, he doesn’t think.

“Cayi Community College offers some great part-time degree courses, I think,” Lan Zhan says, at long last, and Wei Wuxian sighs.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But look, Lan Zhan, I’d really rather be your mysterious handsome arm candy at your fancy lawyer college, every now and then.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes pierce him a bit more intensely than he’s all that comfortable with, but it passes, and so does the topic, thank god - it’s not that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to talk jobs and school, school and jobs, and the future, it’s that... It’s still a little bit overwhelming, thinking past the summer. He spent weeks here very vehemently not doing that, and besides, he’s made a decision not to be nervous.

Right. He’s going to have to work on that.

The next days fortunately provide ample opportunities - the new material the kids’ parents’ money paid for finally arrives, wood and tarps and tools, and they can start repairing and patching everything that suffered throughout the summer. There’s the roofs of the cabins that need proofing, and the poor derelict pier must be taken apart and reassembled anew, and they spend hours upon sweltering, August-hot hours physically working harder than they have all summer long, probably - the money only lasted them for the material, not any actual handymen.

It’s lucky, then, that they have not only Uncle Four, who commands everyone from afar with a steely resolve, but also Nie Mingjue, who has a propensity for looking really good with a hammer and nails, and turns out to be the most skilled carpenter among them.

“Say, Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian, who’s currently hiding away from work in any shape or form in the cool shade of the pines, “are there any pictures out there of Da-Ge... oh, I don’t know, posing? You know, hard pressed to make money back in the day to keep his little brother fed, maybe...”

“Gross,” Huaisang swats him with his fan, “also, you literally just started dating Ji-xiong, what’s the matter with you?”

It’s funny, the reaction the simple word ‘dating’ can elicit - like butterflies in his stomach, the good kind.

“Aiya, relax,” he raises his hands to defend himself, “I’m just an innocent observer. Oh, but what’s that? Why, it’s our illustrious Camp Leader, come bearing lemonade! Someone’s not as innocent as they seem.”

They both watch as Lan Xichen gets Nie Mingjue’s attention, standing by as their resident carpenter carefully climbs down the ladder, and accepts the glass very gratefully, or at least that’s what they’re able to discern from the look on his face, all bright smiles and thank you’s.

“Do you think the two of them are-?” Wei Wuxian speculates, but Huaisang raises one warning hand.

“I’m gonna stop you right there. Some things, I’m not accepting any bets on, and that includes my brother’s personal life.”

“You were happy enough to bet on my personal life!”

“Yeah, because I knew you couldn’t physically squash my head like a melon if you found out.”

“What are you two hens clucking about?”

That’s Wen Qing, coming by to make sure they’re all properly hydrated in the heat, and she stays to speculate with them a little while longer, before she announces that if they have time for that, they’ll definitely have time to help out in the kitchen.

Groaning and complaining, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang make their way there, and spend a teary half hour dicing onions, but at least they’re rewarded with a delicious lunch for their troubles.

“We were thinking,” Xichen announces when they’re all gathered around the table, the dining hall pleasantly cool compared to the intense heat outside, “since it’s now been officially found and charted, what would you all say to taking a trip to see the Lotus Lake? Before we all have to go our separate ways.”

That meets with unabashed excitement from pretty much everyone, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan, the only two people to have actually seen it, are quick to raise concerns.

“It’s easily three days away by boat,” Lan Zhan points out, and Wei Wuxian adds: “Plus, the part of the river that leads there is just... wow. Not really a chill experience.”

“We thought we’d drive most of the way,” Xichen smiles, and it’s the we that keeps nagging at Wei Wuxian - he shoots a look Huaisang’s way, but his omnipotent friend’s face remains unreadable at the moment.

“Leave tomorrow morning, come back in the evening,” Nie Mingjue adds, and Wei Wuxian shoots another look at Huaisang. Aha. We.

“Just to see it, go for a swim, have a picnic,” Xichen explains their plans very breezily, “what do we all think?”

They leave the next morning, and logically, Wei Wuxian remembers he has six weeks of really intensely amazing experiences in him, but the day still proves... probably one of the best of his entire summer.

Lan Zhan and him ride in Xichen’s jeep with him and the Nie brothers while everyone else travels smushed into Uncle Four’s van, and Wei Wuxian gets to just relax, lean on Lan Zhan the entire way there, and let the breeze from the rolled down window soothe his cheeks. They talk about anything and everything, and listen to peppy radio tunes and attempt to sing along, and the summer speeds by outside in speckles of green and gold, and it’s... It’s wonderful.

Lan Zhan and him somehow succeed at navigating everybody back to the actual lake, and they’re the only ones there, and they don’t hesitate a second before throwing off most of their clothes and just running in, swatting away lotuses and washing away the day’s heat.

Wei Wuxian ends up mounting Jiang Cheng’s shoulders in a classic game of trying to shove their opponents off their perches, but both Wen Qing with Mianmian, and especially the Nie brothers, prove to be tough competition. Soaked to the bone and slightly sore, they eat their damp sandwiches on the blankets they’ve spread out on the grass, in the shade of the grandiose willows overlooking the lake, and it is here, his head resting in the crook of Lan Zhan’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined and their hands raised up before their faces like they mean to watch the sunlight streaming through them, listening to everyone’s idle chatter, that Wei Wuxian realizes something - miles, roads, mountains away, different lotuses sway on the waters of the place he grew up, and he hasn’t felt more at home anywhere in the world since he left it all those years ago. 

More at home than right here, right now, surrounded by these people - he shifts a little bit, to look at Jiang Cheng losing miserably in a game of cards against the Wen siblings, at Huaisang scribbling something into his notebook while Mianmian peeks over his shoulder, at Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue laying down side by side, propped up on their elbows, talking and, he suspects, entirely lost in a world of their own... And last but not least, he sees Lan Zhan, now bending over him, his slightly worried face a sight for sore eyes, even if it is currently upside down.

“Wei Ying. Are you alright?”

He doesn’t think he’ll go so far as to cry about having friends, but just to make sure, he shifts and shuffles some more until he can bury his face in Lan Zhan’s chest, hugging him tight.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan now sounds downright concerned, “what is it?”

“‘M fine,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, muffled. “Happy.”

“Oh.”

Lan Zhan seems to just understand, because he always does, and his hands rub warmth into Wei Wuxian’s back, until all other sensations disappear, until he’s feeling safe, and soft around the edges, and reassured - this is where it’s at. This is home - not a place, but people, the sensation of them, the fascinating, mortifying fact that all it takes is allowing himself to stay in one spot long enough for someone to look at him, and see.

Love you, he mouths the words he can’t quite say out loud yet into the soft fabric of Lan Zhan’s t-shirt, and knows that Lan Zhan knows, and if he doesn’t, he’ll wait for him to be able to say it properly, one day.

They come back to Gusu to a change of weather, and slowly but inevitably, a change of mood as well - the heat becomes truly unbearable until it finally breaks and it rains, not a thrashing thunderstorm this time, but rather a soft pitter-patter here and there, only serving to raise the humidity in the air to genuinely horrible levels. The sky becomes muggy and grey, and the insects sometimes buzz louder than ever, sometimes stay silent altogether, and although Wei Wuxian is loath to admit it, he can feel the end approaching, like a weight around his ankles, shackling him and slowing him down, getting progressively heavier and more noticeable.

There’s less work to do now, once all the rebuilding is done with - they mostly just spend their time rearranging the attic and cataloging everything, and Lan Zhan is unbearably meticulous about the whole thing, much like his brother. There’s nothing Wei Wuxian would like more than to drag him away at every opportune moment, but the options seem to be more and more limited - or maybe it’s just the fact that there’s less time in general, and he still can’t shake the feeling that it’s not... enough.

Oh, they spend endless hours jamming in their cabin or the dining hall, coming up with melodies after new melodies, and returning to old ones, and Lan Zhan attempts to teach him the guitar, too, enveloping him from behind and guiding his hands across the strings and the frets until correct chords are the last thing on their mind... They stay up late in the pitch black, windows open to let in the fresh night air, talking and talking and talking, and he wakes up early in the morning in Lan Zhan’s embrace only to find him reading with a look of such serene concentration on his face that getting up is suddenly much easier, especially if it means getting to kiss that serious mouth until it relents into a smile...

But there’s never enough time, until they’re making arrangements to leave, and actually packing, and building one last big bonfire to really send the summer off, and Wei Wuxian realizes all at once that he wants more.

That last day drags like molasses - the campsite has been swept clean a dozen times over, the tents have been disassembled and put away, the canoes washed and locked up, the pier rebuilt, and yet, everyone still finds little things to do, something to busy themselves with to make the evening approach a little slower.

Come the next morning, Wei Wuxian will be hitching a ride to the train station with Jiang Cheng, and from there on they’ll travel to Yunmeng, and he suddenly feels almost like he wasted the entirety of the summer, getting to this point - didn’t spend enough time looking at the trees and appreciating the peace and the quiet, didn’t help Granny Wen enough in the kitchen, didn’t play everything he wanted to with the kids... Certainly didn’t kiss Lan Zhan often enough, or well enough.

It’s a disarming state of mind, and not wholly in a good way, and as a result, he spends much of the day in a weird sort of limbo, of laughing along with jokes, and spending time with the people he cares about, but without his heart really being in it.

Worst of all, Lan Zhan notices - he holds Wei Wuxian’s hand just like he’s always done, offers himself up for hugs like he’s always done, but - terrified of it never being enough, and losing it at the same time - Wei Wuxian retreats, and suddenly doesn’t remember how to find his way back.

He busies himself all afternoon with chopping the last of the wood that they need to burn, and arranging it into a truly epic pagoda of a bonfire for the evening, and he knows Lan Zhan is sitting in his brother’s office going over some papers, and he knows his heart’s not in it, either, and he absolutely knows that if he were to just up and drag him away right now, he wouldn’t protest, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

With some time to go until the fire still, he feels the inexplicable need to take a shower, even though he will be smelling like smoke again come the evening, and he stands under the slightly unsteady stream of water for the longest time, indecisive.

But of course, it wouldn’t be Lan Zhan if he didn’t help him come to some sort of a conclusion, albeit unwittingly.

Wei Wuxian finds him sitting in their cabin, his stuff still around since he’ll be staying behind, a stark contrast to Wei Wuxian’s own packed bags, and his eyes are closed and he’s playing their melody on his guitar - and stupidly enough, Wei Wuxian almost turns and walks right back out, but then Lan Zhan is opening his eyes, and Lan Zhan is smiling at him, and Lan Zhan is there.

“Hi,” Wei Wuxian says a bit stupidly, and Lan Zhan sets his guitar aside, and reaches out for him, and Wei Wuxian goes.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan means to say something, but Wei Wuxian is now very adamant about quelling any and all protests, and achieves it very well by sitting in his lap, shamelessly, bravely, and kissing him before he can get any more words out.

Warm hands travel under the fabric of his t-shirt almost immediately, a scorching, electrifying contact on his shower-soft skin, and Wei Wuxian arches his back into the embrace, shamelessly needy now, an entire day of tension melting away in those few simple moments.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats, a bit more breathless, and Wei Wuxian kisses him about it, as deep and passionate as he’s physically able to, to convey what he means to say without words.

Tell me not to go. Just say the word, give me a reason to break a promise and stay.

“Guys! Fire time!”

Huaisang’s holler comes from far too close to their cabin for comfort, alongside someone else actually ringing the camp bell, and Wei Wuxian grunts his displeasure, while Lan Zhan only sighs, his arms sliding to Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian pouts a little bit, both of them very clear on where they’d take this if there weren’t a social gathering in the way.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan actually smiles, and maybe they don’t need to go to the bonfire? Maybe they can just stay here forever? That would be nice. “Let’s come back later.”

Wei Wuxian groans something thoroughly unintelligible, but obeys, climbing off Lan Zhan slowly, reluctantly. Just as he’s about to go grab his best bonfire-designated flannel shirt to keep him warm later, though, Lan Zhan tugs at his hand and pulls him into one last kiss, one that leaves absolutely no question about the meaning behind his next words: “We’ll be back.”

“Mm,” Wei Wuxian whimpers a bit pathetically, “alright. Yeah. Sooner rather than later, yes?”

Hand in hand and a bit fragile still, they make their way to the fire pit, and then the summer really ends.

The flames go up quick and lively, like they themselves are excited, and they all stand in an unplanned circle around the whole thing, all, naturally, turning to Xichen, to say a few words this one last time.

“Oh,” he smiles when he realizes, “it’s my turn, huh?”

“Say something inspiring,” Wen Qing spurs him on.

“But say it quickly, I’m really looking forward to the barbecue,” Huaisang adds, which earns him several half-honest reprimands.

“Alright, alright,” Xichen laughs, looking to Nie Mingjue standing by his side - some sort of a look passes between them, one that only they can decipher, and then Xichen is smiling to himself, evidently having found some words.

“Well, I mean, what is there to say, really. Everything’s already been said, so let me just repeat this for the hundredth time, just so you know I’m serious - thank you. I’m not joking when I say I have absolutely no idea how Gusu could have gotten through this summer without your help, every single one of you.”

“Wen Qing, thank you for keeping us alive,” he seems to want to go in a circle, and Wen Qing rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, too.

“It’s a tall order, true.”

“It is. Wen Ning, thank you for working about three different people’s jobs at any given point in time, every single day.”

“My pleasure,” the youngest Wen smiles timidly.

“Wen-laoshi, thank you for feeding us, and for suffering us, and the other Wen-laoshi, thank you for making sure this place doesn’t fall on all our collective heads.”

They cheer a little bit at that, all of them, and Granny waves at them dismissively, but clearly she’s pleased, as is Uncle Four.

“Mianmian, I admire you immensely for dealing with the youngest kids, and dealing with them well. You are a master of your craft, and the best bedtime story reader out there.”

“Huaisang,” Xichen has the sense to go for a dramatic pause, enough to make everyone laugh, “your scavenger hunt was a work of art, and I can’t wait to see how you top that next year.”

“Already got everything lined up, Er-Ge,” Huaisang grins.

“Of course you do. Jiang Cheng, thank you for keeping him in line - for keeping all of us in line.”

“Easier said than done,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but is also very pleased, up to the point that he receives a congratulatory elbow in the ribs from Wei Wuxian.

“Wangji,” Xichen turns to his brother, who’s watching him calmly, “thank you for standing by me, every step of the way.”

Lan Zhan only nods, and his fingers momentarily tighten around Wei Wuxian’s.

“Mingjue,” Xichen says next, almost childishly excited, laughing when Da-Ge raises his eyebrows, me? “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back when we needed you most. When I needed you.”

And, clearly on a wavelength nobody else shares, Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything, only grins and effortlessly sneaks one arm around Xichen’s waist, pulling him into a kiss none of them see coming, but all of them feel the need to comment on once they realize what’s going on.

“Holy sh- I knew it!”

“Da-Ge!”

“Seriously?! Why couldn’t we bet on that?”

“Should we... cheer?” Wei Wuxian mutters to Lan Zhan, who, for his part, displays a mixture of confusion and happiness.

“Alright, yes, um,” Xichen is now grinning wider than they’ve seen him all summer long, “sorry for keeping you all in the dark. This is... a thing.”

“Definitely a thing,” Nie Mingjue smirks, and he looks like he’ll never be letting go of Xichen ever again, now that he’s allowed to hold him close - Wei Wuxian knows the feeling.

“Aren’t we forgetting someone?” Wen Qing points out, and Wei Wuxian is quick to add: “No, we’re not, of course we’re not. Let’s move on to the barbecue, eh?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan smiles.

“Wei Wuxian,” Xichen says, and all eyes are on him now, and boy that’s a little overwhelming.

“Yep, I’m here.”

“Indeed you are. Thank you-”

“You’re welcome! There, we’re all done- hey!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng retaliates for earlier with one precisely aimed shove, “and listen.”

“Just take the damn praise for once in your life,” Wen Qing rolls her eyes.

“Nyegh,” Wei Wuxian complains, but it’s too late.

“Thank you,” Xichen repeats, “for coming back here on such short notice, and for staying. For becoming a part of this place as much as it became a part of you. Please know you’ll be welcome here next year, and any other year after that, and as for the rest of you, that’s absolutely a given. Your contracts are for life now.”

“Fine by me,” Huaisang proclaims loftily.

“No problem,” Jiang Cheng smirks.

“Pay my student loans,” Wen Qing mutters, and that finally brings the laughter, which in turn brings about the rest of the evening.

They eat the aforementioned barbecue, in record time probably, and they sing their most favorite songs, and they come and they go, dipping out here to bring more beers from the main lodge, disappearing there to break off and chat in smaller groups, and though the sun sets really late, it still does disappear eventually, nothing but the embers of the fire flying high like fireflies illuminating the night.

No one would fault them for leaving early, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan still stay, because it feels right, because they get to sit side by side, shoulders knocking, sharing the space framed by Lan Zhan’s guitar as they provide melody after melody... Until, that is, the night gets really dark, and the gleam in their eyes, the firelight reflected, reveals a different sort of plan.

They don’t even need to come up with an excuse - at one point, during a lull in their impromptu concert that’s been going on for too long anyway, they simply stand up and leave, Lan Zhan gripping his guitar with one hand, and Wei Wuxian’s own hand in the other, and blissfully, no one calls after them.

They barely make it as far as the porch, until Lan Zhan is pressing him against the pillar with their names carved into it, a discordant note echoing off the strings of his instrument as it’s handled a bit carelessly for a second, and Wei Wuxian is laughing breathlessly and reaching for him as fast, as certainly as humanly possible.

“Lan Zhan,” he goes for a gently chiding tone, and fails epically on all fronts, “so shameless. Take me inside!”

And Lan Zhan takes him inside, with no room for an argument, and then the moment slows down almost impossibly, Wei Wuxian watching him put his guitar away into its case, gently, meticulously, and then it’s just the two of them and the tiny little space they’ve shared all this time, and Wei Wuxian switches the light right back off on his way into Lan Zhan’s arms.

All those years he spent here as kid, they’ve sort of melded into one big suitcase of memories and emotions, little vignettes like fading photographs, but this, now, he thinks he’ll remember forever, in perfect detail - the warm hazy glow of finally getting to be with Lan Zhan, their first week together...

The taste of him, and the way he whispers Wei Wuxian’s name, and the traces his fingers leave on Wei Wuxian’s skin, burning and soothing at the same time. The way the bed creaks under their joined weight, and how soft and comfortable and right it feels, to have Lan Zhan towering over him, shielding him, enveloping him.

There’s no room for doubt now - where something always seemed to interrupt them when they needed it least during these past couple of days, where they spent more time exploring, rather than daring before they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms, there’s none of that now.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, and receives the insanely thrilling sensation of Lan Zhan’s lips on his neck for his troubles, the soft crook of it, then the angle of his collarbone, then hovering, waiting while he struggles to take off his t-shirt - Lan Zhan’s on a journey with one clear goal in mind, and who is Wei Wuxian to begrudge him that?

He’s taken care of so thoroughly that night, so sensationally, he’s going to have to ask Lan Zhan if this is really the first time he’s done anything like this - but later, when Wei Wuxian is not busy seeing stars. Later, when the only words that can come out of his mouth aren’t some variation of Lan Zhan’s name, and the often unintelligible pleas for more.

“Drink some water,” are the next words that he manages after that, his voice a bit hoarse, and Lan Zhan casts him a slightly apprehensive look, but obliges, wiping at his chin, and his next kiss tastes so very different, but still so good.

“Wei Ying... you don’t have to,” he protests when Wei Wuxian regains some mobility and climbs on top of him to reciprocate, and he’s so stunning like that, long hair disheveled, eyes gleaming in the dark, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand how he couldn’t want to.

“Lan Zhan, this is a two way street,” he informs him, and that, too, he will remember forever and bring with him wherever he goes - the noises even Lan Zhan himself probably didn’t know he could make, cold skin turning bonfire-hot under Wei Wuxian’s lips, his hand in Wei Wuxian’s hair, tugging at it without really meaning to, but receiving all the more encouragement for it.

Lan Zhan comes undone under him, and it just might be Wei Wuxian’s biggest achievement to date, exciting enough to make him want to try and recreate the success all night long, but at the same time, he can already feel himself going all loose and pliant as Lan Zhan pulls him back into his arms, his breathing waiting to calm down still.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs, woozy, sounding years younger, “come back to me.”

Wei Wuxian would promise him anything in that moment, anything in the world, but this, he feels so deep inside his soul, is no stupid half-assed wishful-thinking-but-not-really he might say in any other circumstance. He doesn’t know how to properly convey just how serious he is, but he tries, turning over to take Lan Zhan’s head in his hands, and pressing a kiss to his lips that carries with it... well, hopefully everything.

“Of course I will, Lan Zhan,” he says, and means every word of it, “of course.”

From: Wei Ying

15:35

we’re here. jiang cheng refuses to protect me against the promise of a lobster dinner. come save me lan zhaaaaan

To: Wei Ying

15:36

You will be alright. Your family will be glad to see you. 

15:37

I will come save you if you need me to of course.

The last ones to leave are the Wens - Granny and Uncle Four will be returning later, of course, to see the resort through autumn and into winter, but for now, their entire mismatched family is on their way to pick up Sizhui from... wherever he’s staying with Jingyi, and watching them all loading up into their old beat up van is somewhat surreal - in Wangji’s mind, Gusu is nothing without them, and he only hopes he’ll see them again before he himself has to leave for the newest semester.

Nie Mingjue and Huaisang stay a while longer, but that, too, doesn’t offer much in the way of company - they sit together, and make meals together, but Nie Mingjue keeps mostly to Xichen now, of course, and Huaisang is... far too intense at times, especially in Wangji’s somewhat sedate state of mind.

Letting Wei Ying go was... well, it was a given, a natural progression, and he knows with all his heart that he’ll be back, but that doesn’t change the fact that watching him go felt distinctly bitter. Everywhere Wangji turns, he expects him to come running, expects to hear his voice where there are only the sounds of the forest for company... They’ve made it unfairly difficult for themselves, he thinks, having spent that good a week together while knowing it would end, the whole time.

“Ugh, I had to wear a shirt for dinner,” Wei Ying complains on the phone that first evening, “can you imagine?”

Wangji can, and the thought sustains him, but outwardly, he only offers support.

“And? Was it a good dinner?”

“It was... fine, I suppose. As far as dinners go. Aunt Yu ripped into me for not having a steady job, but didn’t really like it when I mentioned having just finished working seven weeks in a row. Uncle... didn’t say a whole lot. You know how it is.”

Wangji doesn’t, in fact - he’s tried extracting as much information about Wei Ying’s family from him as humanly possible, but the picture isn’t much clearer in his mind. Logically, he understands the timeline - Wei Wuxian getting adopted when he was a little kid, growing up in the lap of luxury but never really appreciating it, butting heads with the Jiangs every step of the way, until his rebelliousness got the better of him, and, after his last failed summer camp here at the age of sixteen, he finally up and left.

He’s described his survival in those years alternately as ‘a damn good adventure’ and ‘hell year after hell year’, but from what Wangji understands, he mostly just somehow succeeded at graduating high school, thanks mostly to his grandmother taking him in, and proceeded to do odd jobs here and there - he was already staying at an at-risk youth center which his grandmother ran, so it stood to reason that he, too, would become an at-risk youth.

Wangji aches for the younger version of him, busting tables and skipping classes, for all the years he wasted not being by his side, but all of it is inconsequential now. Now, all he’s going to do is make sure Wei Ying is taken care of, going forward.

“I get to see Shijie and little Jin Ling tomorrow, though!” Wei Ying actually sounds excited, and Wangji squirms for a more comfortable position on his bed, smiling into the darkness.

“That’s good. Say hello to them for me.”

Wei Ying does a little more than that, and the next day, in the middle of cooking lunch, Wangji receives a series of pictures of... a mostly blurry Jin Ling with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, getting progressively more coated in ice cream in every single one.

ICE CREAM, LAN ZHAN!, Wei Wuxian writes in all caps, I can’t believe we’ve barely had it all summer long!!! Let’s get ice cream when I come back!

Let’s, Wangji texts back, and the smile on his face lasts him well throughout the afternoon.

Xichen and him go up to the house after the Nie brothers leave, a day later - Nie Mingjue still has a lot of work to do, apparently, if he means to actually move his entire company to Cayi Town and stay there, and Huaisang’s school kicks into gear earlier than Wangji’s. Side by side, Xichen and him wish them farewell, wave at their car until it disappears into the forest, and their next course of action is clear.

Their childhood home smells like dust and mothballs, and they open all the windows wide, so as not to suffocate as they wipe everything clean again, but also to let the incense smoke float away and outside after they light the tiny little altar in the living room - nothing but two incense sticks and a picture of their parents even before they had them, arms linked, smiling bright.

“Hello Mom, Dad,” Xichen says softly, forever the more proficient one when it comes to just words, “we’ve had one hell of a summer.”

At that, Wangji can’t help but smile, and, side by side still, Xichen and him proceed to tell their parents everything.

They stay until late that evening, Wangji going through the bookshelves and pulling out whatever interests him while Xichen tenderly washes the old tea sets their mother left behind, and then they play, too, sitting cross-legged on the floor, two guitars finding melodies in common, until the sun begins angling down, sending stripes of vibrant oranges and reds onto the terracotta tiles in the kitchen.

“I’d like to take Wei Ying here,” Wangji announces, a bit out of nowhere, “when he comes back. If you don’t mind.”

Xichen watches him silently for a moment - this has been theirs and only theirs for as long as both of them can remember, a habit, a certainty at the end of every summer, and Wangji is almost sure...

“Of course,” Xichen smiles, “please do. I feel like these old walls could use a bit more life.”

From: Wei Ying

19:12

Shijie says her peacock husband is gonna finance gusu now? did u know?

To: Wei Ying

19:14

I did not. Xichen didn’t either.

From: Wei Ying

19:17

o hot damn! Shijie wont say why but I get the sense it’s to spite his father u feel

19:17

I mean im hoping that doesn’t mean any more trouble? eh? no more legal battles?

To: Wei Ying

19:19

I don’t think so. Xichen is switching over to environmental law anyway.

From: Wei Ying

19:20

LAN ZHAN

19:20

I love it when u joke

19:21

wait

19:21

is that actually a thing. is this fresh gossip I can share with people now

To: Wei Ying

19:22

Keep it to yourself for now. But yes, it’s a thing.

From: Wei Ying

19:23

god thats juicy af. my lips are sealed.

19:24

guess we all just exist on this earth to spite our father figures huh

To: Wei Ying

19:25

When you put it that way...

In the coming days, he reads, and reads endlessly. There’s actual studying he has to do, yes, but there’s also the poems he’s brought back with him from their parents’ house, and the novels, and the travel journals... The campsite slumbers around him and he finds a quiet spot in the shade, and simply consumes thousands upon thousands of words.

It keeps him from missing Wei Ying, at least a little bit.

Uncle calls at one point, sufficiently distant and cold, but informing them of new developments in that stern way of his that actually brings Wangji comfort - he thinks of the man standing by the fireplace in the old house, picking up that old faded photograph, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, Wei Ying was wrong in this one instance, and they haven’t let him down.

“You should come over, Shufu,” Xichen brings an end to the call with a smile, and Lan Qiren doesn’t outright scoff at him, which is definitely an improvement.

It rains for two days straight, and Wangji spends those mostly in his bed - reading, playing guitar, writing, reading again. Reminiscing, because he can’t help that. He sees Wei Ying before him in his ubiquitous flip flops, soaked to the bone, remembers the taste of his cold lips, remembers the unceasing hum of the rain on the rooftop of this very cabin, providing a backdrop to the very culmination of years upon years of never really thinking about anyone else.

Thinks of Wei Ying alone at Yunmeng now, so very terrified of going but never showing it, and deciding to go anyway, and thinks of Wei Ying right here, the warmth of him on this very bed, the fire his kisses left in their wake - in that, too, he’s suddenly very grateful for his solitude.

His phone ringing is an almost unwelcome interruption, but he reconsiders very quickly when he sees who’s calling.

“Wei Ying,” he exhales.

“Hiya, Lan Zhan!” comes a cheerful reply, and right off the bat, Wangji knows - it’s entirely too cheerful.

“What’s wrong?” he asks plainly, sitting up.

“No-othing,” he can sense Wei Ying’s tight smile, “nothing is wrong. Just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?”

“Wei Ying. I’m alright. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Fine, I guess. Hiding in my room, currently.”

Wangji tenses up, his previous pleasantly distracted state of mind dissipating.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, as such, it’s just...” Wei Ying relents incredibly slowly, reluctantly, until Wangji hears a sigh like all air has left Wei Ying’s lungs at once, and his next words are quiet, and a bit desperate: “I just forgot what it was like, you know? When they argue. When they bring us into it. Like I’m tearing the family apart just by coming back... Fuck. I can’t believe Jiang Cheng has to listen to this every day. I can’t believe I left him alone with them, all those years ago...”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji says firmly, even though he can feel a sharp throb of pain in his throat.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know, I know, but-”

“No buts. Whatever they say, it’s not your fault. Just because they can’t treat you, and their own children, with common decency, doesn’t mean you’re the one responsible.”

“I guess...”

“And your brother leaves for university in a couple of weeks, doesn’t he? He’ll be fine, too.”

“That’s true. Man, campus life will suit him.”

“I can imagine.”

“That was it, actually,” Wei Ying sighs, and Wangji can sense some feeling returning to his voice. “That’s what set it off. Talking about Jiang Cheng going to uni, and me saying I might want to go back to school, too-”

“You said that?” Wangji interrupts him without meaning to, the excitement momentarily getting the better of him.

“Yeah, well, you know. You got me thinking. Anyway, one thing led to another, and here I am, hiding in my childhood bedroom. I barely fit the bed anymore, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” Wangji exhales along with a chuckle - he can just see him, curled up on a teenager-sized bed, and he wants nothing more than to be there with him, for him.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying sniffs.

“Come back,” Wangji says, and then, when only silence follows: “Come back to me.”

Wei Wuxian’s next exhale is long and sad, and he must have rearranged himself somehow, because his next words sound muffled, like he’s hiding his face in his arms, the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “you know I will, Lan Zhan. Thank you.”

It rains for one more day, and once it stops, he walks into the hills to survey it all, wearing his best heavy-duty boots, sloshing through the mud. The air smells fresh, like moss and pine resin, and the rabbits seem completely unbothered, hopping here and there in their little clearing, foraging for whatever the forest is yet willing to give up. Wangji joins them and finds a handful of very late blueberries, sitting down on the nearest stump to eat them, not a care in the world for getting a bit damp.

He closes his eyes, briefly, to inhale deeply, and decides, this is it.

He’s been coming back here for years, escaping his progressively more demanding real life, his responsibilities, his studies, only to spend his summers in the forest he grew up, and never really wanted to leave in the first place. Gusu has given him everything - his joy back, all of his practical skills, his friends and his love, and suddenly, Wangji can’t find a single reason why he’d ever want to leave here again.

They fought so very hard, will continue to fight yet, for this place to remain, for the house in the hills as well as the old rickety cabins down below, for the rabbits and the lake and the trees themselves, and they did it because yes, the thought of the summer camps not happening here is impossible to fathom, but also...

Also because for him, and even more so for Xichen, this place is the only actual home they’ve ever known. Wangji doesn’t plan on living in a dorm for the rest of his days, but where will he go after that’s finished? A fancy apartment in the city, like Xichen has now, courtesy of their Uncle? Somewhere sleek and modern, where he can’t even see the trees?

It’s not that he can’t imagine not coming here in the summer, it’s that maybe, on some level, he’s always wished summer would last forever.

I feel like these old walls could use a bit more life, Xichen had told him, and he thinks of it, thinks of taking Wei Ying with him to the old house, lighting its furnace again, sweeping clean the table in the kitchen, the windows and the countertops, tilling the garden...

It strikes him how easy it is, wanting something your whole life and never really... realizing it.

He hears it then, and it, too comes to him at first as nothing more than a part of this daydreaming sequence he’s found himself in - but when he opens his eyes, he sees the rabbits’ ears twitching, and realizes that the melody is real.

He stands up entirely too quickly, and almost trips over his feet as he hurries downhill, following the sound more on instinct than anything else, quiet at first but growing louder the lower he descends, back towards the campsite...

And there he is, like he’s serenading the forest itself, just standing in a random clearing and playing his harmonica like it’s a part of him, like the melody itself is a part of him - and if it is a part of Wangji, part of the soundtrack for this place that always plays on the back of his mind, then he knows Wei Wuxian feels the same way.

“Wei Ying,” he exhales, almost too quiet, almost worried he won’t hear him, but Wei Ying turns around immediately, and there’s the biggest, brightest smile on his face, to rival a sunrise... Until it twists, and Wei Wuxian actually pouts at him.

“I looked all over for you!” he exclaims, stumbling over to Wangji, much less careful than him about not tripping over his feet, “where were you? You can’t just tell me to come back and then not be there when I do, Lan Zhan, I thought I missed you-”

Already, he’s bounding ahead at the speed of light again, and Wangji reaches for him, to stop him, steady him, and fortunately succeeds - his hands on Wei Ying’s waist are enough to tether him in place, long enough for Wangji to look him in the eye, and say the words he needs to say, for the effect to become permanent.

“I’m sorry. I was right here, this whole time. Waiting for you.”

Wei Ying opens his mouth to protest, to argue further, but then what Wangji really wants to say finally catches up with him, and a change happens in his face - where there was only hilarious, effusive indignation a second ago, something soft takes over, something gentle.

“This whole time,” he repeats Wangji’s words, quietly, cautiously, like he’s testing out their actual meaning.

“Yes.”

The other words he needs to say will have to wait until later, but judging by Wei Ying’s face, he understands, and he has some of his own, ready to be said out loud at long last.

“Oh,” he only sighs for now, “good.”

And it is.