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It's been a week since Wei Wuxian has gone, and even though he'd been a huge pain in the ass, it's strange without him around. Jiang Cheng gets along fine with Nie Huaisang, but he's really Wei Wuxian's friend, and it shows in how their interactions have become fewer and more perfunctory. It's fine, of course, because Jiang Cheng doesn't really need people and this gives him the space to really succeed in Cloud Recesses, but… he's lonely and homesick without Wei Wuxian. This realization leaves him feeling restless and annoyed, and finally he's had enough of trying to entertain himself in his room night after night. It's dangerously close to curfew, but he's not going far, so surely it'll be fine. Even so, he makes sure no one is around before leaping onto the roof of the building he's staying in and settling onto his back to stare up into the night sky. It takes some fidgeting to get comfortable enough, but even the mild discomfort of lying on a slightly chilly roof is better than the fussy way he was feeling indoors.
Now that Jiang Cheng is up here, though, he's not sure what to do. If Wei Wuxian were here, they could talk, or toss a rock between them, or just be. Despite having spent much of his early childhood alone, he's come to rely on his brother for almost constant companionship, making even just existing in his own space seem unfulfilling. In an attempt to avoid analyzing anything that he's feeling at the moment, he focuses hard on the moon. It's just a sliver, barely giving off any light, waxing its way from a new moon two nights earlier. While not all that exciting to look at, it gives him better cover than a full moon would, so he's thankful for it. Lidding his eyes a little, Jiang Cheng tries to find shapes in the thin clouds that trail past the bit of moon in the sky. A piece of cloth. A ribbon. A snake. He's clearly no good at it, but it does lull him into a sort of dreamy meditative state, a half-awake daze that protects him from his thoughts and the increasing chill of the night.
He's not sure how long he's up there - all he knows is that, suddenly, there's a noise behind him. Startled out of his distant state, he tries to flip himself over to face whatever it is that's sneaking up on him, but his limbs are tired and clumsy. So instead of a graceful shift into confrontation, he finds himself sliding down the steep roof, too startled to gain any purchase. While his descent feels like an eternity, he doesn't actually make it that far; something catches his hand, abruptly halting his fall. Jiang Cheng looks up, and initially thinks it's Lan Wangji because, knowing his luck, of course it would be him. But, apparently something is smiling down on him tonight, because the eyes he catches in the dim light are soft. It's Lan Xichen who has caught his hand, and Jiang Cheng quickly realizes that the other young man doesn't look as poised as usual. He looks startled, and even a little guilty. He looks more his age than he ever has in front of Jiang Cheng. But as the two stare at each other, hands clasped, Lan Xichen regains his composure and pulls Jiang Cheng up onto his feet, seemingly without difficulty.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't expect anyone up here."
Their hands part as Jiang Cheng finds his footing, and almost immediately he crosses his arms tightly. Lan Xichen is better than Lan Wangji, but he shouldn't show weakness in front of him.
"I would have caught myself."
It's the first thing that comes to mind to say, and he knows immediately that it's stupid and wrong. What is he supposed to do now, though? He can't take it back. Lan Xichen smiles softly and takes the smallest step back, not as though threatened, but as though Jiang Cheng had simply asked him for more space.
"I'm sure. I just felt like I should try to help, since I caused the issue." Jiang Cheng is, much to his own surprise, successfully disarmed - it's hard to remain hostile in the face of such agreeableness. Slowly, his arms unwind, his posture shifts. The two stand silently, and Jiang Cheng notices that the hand that hadn't been holding his moments ago is curled around a flute.
"Sometimes I come up here to play," Lan Xichen explains, without any more prompting than his glance. "I had forgotten you were staying in this residence, or else I wouldn't have come tonight. I don't want to disturb you."
"Isn't it past curfew?"
The smile Lan Xichen gives is immediate and sheepish, his head ducking the smallest amount as though accepting a scolding.
"It is."
Almost against his will, Jiang Cheng smiles. And then he laughs. It's ridiculous, that the young, almost perfect sect leader is explaining himself to Jiang Cheng. Explaining that he's breaking curfew to stand here on the roof of a building to play his flute. The whole thing is stupid, something Wei Wuxian would do maybe, but not Lan Xichen. Not Jiang Cheng, either, despite the fact that he's here standing on this roof too. Lan Xichen laughs as well, covering his mouth with the back of his free hand.
A chill gust of wind blows, sending a shiver through Jiang Cheng and a cluster of clouds across the shard of moon, robbing them of most of the weak light it had been granting.
"We should get to bed," Lan Xichen says, reasonable but still with a shudder of amusement in his tone.
"Weren't you going to play something?"
"Yes, but it's late. And it's cold, isn't it? You shivered."
Jiang Cheng snorts, his laughter done but most of the good nature somehow remaining. Still with his usual edge though, of course. "So? Just play something. Then I'll go inside."
He's not sure why he makes this not-really request, but it doesn't matter. Exhaling a small puff of air, Lan Xichen lifts his flute to his lips without any more argument and plays. It's a soft, melancholy melody, one not particularly in keeping with their laughter moments earlier. Jiang Cheng can't see him well in the poor lighting, but he thinks he looks like he's letting something go, with this. Maybe that's why it seems sad. Or maybe that's just Jiang Cheng projecting his own feelings of missing and homesickness.
Lan Xichen doesn't play for too long - he only plays a single song before he lowers the instrument. A few moments later, the cluster of clouds leaves the moon, and the young men can see each other a little better once more. Jiang Cheng shivers again, unused to such chilly nights, and Lan Xichen smiles.
"You really are cold - now you have to go inside. I can't be responsible for you falling ill."
The urge to be petulant is strong, but with a clearer view of Lan Xichen's face Jiang Cheng remembers where he is and who he's with. Arms still crossed, but now more for warmth than out of annoyance, he lets out a sigh and nods.
"...you play well," he says, quickly, before hopping down from the roof. There's an inkling of embarrassment in him for complimenting the sect leader, but even so he momentarily glances up to the figure of the other young man, who gives him something of a wave before he disappears over the other side of the building.
The next evening, Jiang Cheng again finds himself on the roof, and surprisingly, Lan Xichen appears again. This time, at least, he doesn't need to save him from tumbling down, and the two fall into almost familiar conversation fairly quickly. It's surprisingly easy, with Lan Xichen; he doesn't agitate Jiang Cheng in the way so many others do. There's no judgement in his eyes or words, nor is there condescension. On their first meeting he'd been sure that the older boy was just faking all that good personality, but every interaction has made that seem less likely. Jiang Cheng won't entirely let his guard down, but he can actually, maybe, relax at least a little around Lan Xichen.
The sect leader plays a few songs this evening, lying on his back staring at the stars with Jiang Cheng alongside him. Again, they're melancholy and almost contemplative, but soothing all the same. The moment Jiang Cheng shivers, an outer robe is tossed over him. He blinks and sits up, a little afraid of seeing that Lan Xichen has taken off his own to give to him. But no, he hasn't, even though the fabric now draped across him is obviously a Lan robe. It seems as though the sect leader had just brought an extra for him.
"I can't be responsible for you falling ill," Lan Xichen reminds him, and smiles. It's the same smile as he'd given him the other night. A smile that's gentle, that radiates a feeling of 'I want to do good.' 'I want to help you.' It makes Jiang Cheng feel strangely uncomfortable, unworthy. After a long moment, he lightly kicks the other young man's leg. That smile turns into a laugh, something Jiang Cheng feels more able to deal with. They both lie back down, and Lan Xichen plays a few more songs before they need to part ways to sleep.
This continues as the moon grows in size, hitting a quarter and then half, inching its way slowly towards the full. As the moon progresses, time moves Jiang Cheng closer to his departure from Cloud Recesses. Still, every night Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen spend an hour up on his roof, always with an extra Lan outer robe thrown over Jiang Cheng. They occasionally talk on topics that don't really matter, but more often than not Jiang Cheng simply listens as Lan Xichen plays Liebing. Once or twice, Jiang Cheng actually sings quietly under his breath when he recognizes a song, but he stops immediately when Lan Xichen excitedly comments on it and tries to coax him into singing louder. The sect leader doesn't win the argument, but they both come out of it in good spirits.
Two nights before the full moon, Jiang Cheng leaps up onto the roof and is surprised to find an unexpected object there instead of his usual companion. Folded neatly at the peak of the roof, held down by a smooth stone, is a quilt in the soft blue and white of the Lan sect, embroidered painstakingly with clouds. There's a note under the rock as well.
Unfortunately, I had to attend to some business and will be out of Cloud Recesses until after you've gone. I don't want you to get cold without me, though, so here's a gift for you. Please sing a song for me.
Jiang Cheng thoughtlessly runs his fingers along the slightly uneven, natural edges of the paper as he slowly sits down and pulls the quilt around his shoulders. It's warm and smells fresh and new. He shuts his eyes, considers, and then very softly begins to sing, mostly under his breath, an old folk song from Yunmeng. He half expects Lan Xichen to appear at his side and chide him for only singing when he thought he was away, but he doesn't, and he's left alone in the cool night air. Jiang Cheng is maybe, almost, a little disappointed.