Work Text:
“Senior Wei!” Lan Sizhui cries out, waving from the window frame. Lan Jingyi is beside him, the two quarantined together in their shared room. A thin, shimmering blue shield covers the entirety of their door frame and window, creating a barrier between the room and the outside world. It makes the self-isolation period just a bit more bearable for the young ones, who ache to return to their normal life, even if that normal routine involves getting up at 5 AM to run drills around the Gusu peaks.
“Sizhui, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, walking up to the window. “You look funny with your blue faces.”
“Your face is blue, too,” Jingyi retorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I look fine through any color shield,” he says, teasing. “How are you two holding up?”
Sizhui and Jingyi look at each other. Finally, Lan Jingyi smirks and says, “Actually, not too bad. We’ve been having a great time catching up on fun shows that we never get time to watch.”
Sizhui snickers, taking care to cover his mouth and turning his face away slightly from Wei Wuxian in deference. “We’re watching Love is Blind. It’s… a bit scandalous. Jin Ling suggested it. His uncle is taking quarantine really seriously at Yunmeng. Jin Ling gets to watch stuff all day without any nagging.”
“Jin Ling is obsessed,” Jingyi adds helpfully. “He blows up the group chat with his live tweets. I think he’s secretly ahead of us.”
“You’re not in the group chat,” Wei Wuxian points out, thinking of the group chat that mainly consists of Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang fighting with each other, Lan Xichen’s occasional emojis spams, Nie Mingjue’s single emoji responses of a middle finger, Jin Guangyao’s diplomatic, if slightly unnervingly vague remarks, and his own enthusiastic agreements or disagreements with whatever is being said. Wangji is also in the groupchat, but he rarely contributes, preferring to filter his thoughts through Wei Wuxian’s messages. “You are too young to be in the groupchat” he says, wiggling a finger at the two Lan juniors.
Lan Jingyi makes a face. “We have our own group chat, Senior Wei.” He looks over to Lan Sizhui and rolls his eyes in the universal sign for can you believe this old dumbo.
Sizhui, ever the mediator, hurries to change the subject. “Senior Wei, is there any news about Master Lan?” His voice is soft, worry knitting his brows together.
Wei Wuxian sighs and scratches his head. “I think he’s doing as well as can be expected. Your granduncle is a tough man. That old man… I really didn’t think he would get sick. But don’t worry! He seems to be doing well, really.”
The conversation seems to have changed the mood. Even Jingyi casts his eyes downward in obvious concern, picking at a loose thread in his white robe. Wei Wuxian tucks this piece of knowledge aside, storing it as ammunition in case he needs Jingyi to listen to him for once. He is pretty sure that Rule #2567 of Gusu Lan states something to the effect of “garments must be in pristine condition.” Just wait until Wangji or Lan Qiren’s eagle eyes get a hold of this.
He does wish the old man will recover quickly. Even Wangji, who wears his emotions in his heart and not on his sleeves, tightened the set of his mouth when he heard of his uncle’s health status.
Jingyi breaks the thick, uncomfortable silence. “Senior Wei, do you know when all of this will be over?”
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks. If everyone stays inside and does what they’re supposed to, we can probably get back to normal more quickly. Otherwise, it will just drag out.”
“You’re not staying inside,” Jingyi points out accusingly.
Wei Wuxian gulps. The kid has a point. “I’m taking my daily allotted quarantine walk,” he protests. “To get some physical activity in. Hey, did you know you’re still supposed to remain in good physical condition? Rule #1928 of the Cloud Recesses!”
Sizhui lets out a quick, disbelieving breath. “For someone who is not a disciple of Gusu Lan, you are very well versed in the rules, Senior Wei!”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I officially married into this sect,” Wei Wuxian cries. “I am definitely a Gusu Lan disciple, and a very good one at that!”
Jingyi smirks. “Or a very bad one, given how many times you must have copied the rules to memorize them.”
Wei Wuxian huffs. He can’t really argue against that kind of logic, either. Jingyi, for his part, must also have copied the rules a fair amount of time, given how much trouble this very un-Lan-like Lan gets into on a daily basis. Without Lan Qiren around to dole out the discipline, though, Jingyi must be getting off easy, at least for the foreseeable future.
They did go see Lan Qiren today, he and Wangji, hovering outside the isolation shield surrounding Lan Qiren’s private chamber in the Elders quarter. As is typical of Lan decor, the room is sparse and elegantly appointed. Wei Wuxian was curious to take in the names of the titles on his personal bookshelf, but as are typical of ancient Chinese texts, the spines are thin and do not lend themselves to the engravement of characters. All he could see was a sea of blue covers in neat stacks and Old Man Qiren sitting ramrod-straight on his work dais without back support, perusing one of his blue old books.
Wangji had been right besides him. Wei Wuxian leaned in a little closer to the shimmering shield, knowing that he would not be able to pass through it, trying to get a look at the title of the book Lan Qiren was reading.
“Sleuthing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren barked at no one in particular. Wei Wuxian jumped and jerked back, nearly knocking his elbow into Lan Wangji’s nose. He turned around and winced, raising his hands and contorting his face in apologies.
Wangji had ignored his antics, as was often the case when they are not alone in the jingshi. “Uncle,” Lan Wangji politely intoned. “How are you?”
Lan Qiren grunted. “I’m not dying yet, if that is what you are asking.”
Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to retort, but a hand on his shoulder from Lan Wangji stopped him in his tracks. Instead, he sighed and muttered loudly, “We wish you a quick recovery, Master Lan.”
Lan Qiren grunted again, not taking his eyes off his book and looking at the intruders who dared to hover at his door. “If that’s all, you should go back to your room. Essential travels only.”
At this, Lan Wangji said something that made Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. “This is essential travel.” He thought his heart would spontaneously combust. His Lan Zhan, so thoughtful! So demonstrative! He felt his eyes watering up.
After they took their leave from Lan Qiren, who only replied with a distracted hum, Wei Wuxian had turned to his husband, eyes shining in adoration. “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! You are so cute, I really can’t bear it!”
Lan Wangji looked down into his eyes. Not for the first time, Wei Wuxian mentally thanked Mo Xuanyu for this body, for the current gap in their heights. For some reasons, it sets his heart on fire, the way this smaller body fits into all the crevices of Lan Wangji’s taller, wider form.
“Don’t have to bear it,” his Lan Zhan said softly. “Back to room. Now.”
Wei Wuxian was sure he was blushing red to the tips of his ears. “Shameless, Lan Zhan! How can you be so shameless, and so close to your uncle’s sickbed!”
“Uncle is fine,” Lan Wangji said matter-of-factly.
Wei Wuxian wriggled helplessly under that intense gaze. “But Lan Zhan, it is not even noon yet.”
“Not against the rules,” Lan Wangji insisted, and, giving Wei Wuxian no time to protest, began to drag his squirming husband back to the jingshi .
Wei Wuxian thought this whole thing with the quarantine was making his husband just a tad too content, as the hallways of the Cloud Recesses were remarkably empty for such an hour of the day, and the blue screens of the protection shield too easily modified to prevent sound, as well as air, from permeating.
They give Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, both isolating in the Unclean Realm, daily updates on Lan Qiren’s situation. The old man is remarkably robust and seems to be dealing well with the sickness, barely showing any discomfort throughout the day. He also pointedly refused to engage in any newfangled technology, said in Lan Qiren’s gruff, stern voice, even if it is to see his Sect Leader nephew over video chat. If it were not for the strict restriction on travels, Wei Wuxian is sure that Lan Qiren would have sent a literal messenger to update Lan Xichen on the going-ons of Gusu.
Lan Xichen looks tired as captured through the phone camera and displayed again on Wei Wuxian’s monitor, which is to say he still looks absolutely stunning and impeccable in Lan-like fashion, but Wei Wuxian, who has seen his fair share of the Twin Jades of Lan over the years, can tell that Lan Xichen’s smiles take just a touch more effort to reach his eyes. He has looked that way ever since news of Lan Qiren’s illness was delivered, gently but curtly, by Wangji.
“I’m glad to hear that Uncle is feeling well enough to snap at you,” Lan Xichen says, smiling again. Wei Wuxian thinks that this smile, at least, doesn’t seem as forced as the rest.
“Mn,” Wangji replies, nodding. The light reflects strangely off of his golden eyes.
“Wangji, I’m sorry to not be there with you all right now. You’ve had to pick up a lot of my responsibilities.” Lan Xichen looks down, the video shaking a little as he moves his hand, which is holding onto the phone. “Chifeng-zun and I are thinking of ways to get to Gusu and self-isolate in the hanshi. We just need to figure out what to do with the care of the Unclean Realm.”
Wangji takes a moment to consider the situation. “No need,” he says calmly. “Stay.”
Lan Xichen’s eyes widen in surprise. Wei Wuxian thinks about how much these Lan brothers share in their facial tics and characteristics. Lan Xichen’s constant smiles and Lan Wangji’s eternal blankness may seem as different as night and day, and yet their every thought shows in their eyes, if one knows how to look.
“But I can’t possibly ask you to handle everything in the Cloud Recesses, especially with Uncle still recovering,” Lan Xichen insists. Wei Wuxian can hear, if he listens very attentively, the sound of metal on rock in the near vicinity. It must be Nie Mingjue, who, if Wei Wuxian knows him at all, is going stir-crazy at the unexpected disturbance to his daily routine of swordplay, yelling, and training, probably in that order.
Wei Wuxian looks over to his husband. Lan Zhan’s eyes are kind and gentle as he says, “I can take care of it.” They make eye contact as Lan Wangji also turns, and, maintaining their gaze, adds, “Wei Ying can help me. Is helping.”
Wei Wuxian thinks he is the luckiest man in the whole cultivation world to be quarantined with this incredible person. This kind, caring, considerate person who feels so passionately, who acts so righteously, who loves his family and takes care of all those who have made their way into it. He swallows, a grin growing wide on his lips. “Yeah! I’m going to help whip the juniors into shape! They're watching some trashy show right now, so they have too much free time anyway. Don’t you worry about a thing, Zewu-jun!”
“No whipping,” Wangji chides, and Wei Wuxian wants to wince. Poor choice of word. His husband only lifts the corner of his lip a fraction of an inch and turns back to the screen. “Stay well in Qinghe,” he says, addressing Lan Xichen.
Lan Xichen looks fond and exasperated and, Wei Wuxian thinks, grateful. That serene countenance is momentarily disturbed, the screen shaking, and Wei Wuxian can see the burly figure of the Nie Sect Leader entering the screen, a light scowl on his face.
Wei Wuxian gulps and waves. “Hi, Chifeng-zun.” His husband also nods in acknowledgment.
“You heard them, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says without so much as a “hello” in their direction. “They seem to have everything under control. Stop worrying so much.” Wei Wuxian thinks there is something soft about his gaze even as his voice strikes fear into the deepest core of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Nie Mingjue finally turns his attention to them, returns Wangji’s nods, and says, “Thanks for stepping in for Xichen. He’s been worried sick here. He thinks I don’t notice.” Nie Mingjue pauses to roll his eyes. “Anyway, do let us know if anything changes. Send my best regards to Lan Qiren.”
Lan Xichen smiles, waves, and the screen turns black. “I think your brother is in trouble,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning at his husband. Nie Mingjue’s possessive arm around Lan Xichen’s waist is as clear a signal as any of what is to come after they disconnect the call.
Slowly, his husband turns to him. “You’re in trouble,” Lan Wangji says, a smolder in his gaze, and Wei Wuxian swallows hard, backing up.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” he yells and begins dashing away. His husband’s eyes turn the slightest touch feral, and, shoving the laptop aside, gives chase.
If he can’t go outside more than once a day to walk, Wei Wuxian reasons, then they should at least get some indoor exercise. He is sure Lan Zhan would agree. After all, Gusu Lan Sect rule #2419 states that one must not be idle in the Cloud Recesses.