Chapter Text
How did YiLing Laozu Wei Wuxian, the fearsome YiLing Patriarch, find himself in such a shameful situation?
Namely, being half dragged, half carried by a gaggle of Lan disciple minions — who have probably barely been alive longer than he had been dead — up the winding stairs towards the Cloud Recesses.
What a dramatic fall from grace, he thought to himself, shaking his head.
Nevertheless, Wei Ying makes sure to simultaneously scream bloody murder the whole way up, flailing his limbs in a way that would be considered very unsavory by his companions, and hanging on to Lil Apple’s reigns as if they were his final lifeline.
If he really was at the mercy of the Lan Sect now, he would make sure to remind them every step of the way that keeping Wei Wuxian caged here would not be an easy task.
The YiLing Patriarch cannot be contained.
“Be quiet.” An angry voice snaps at him, tugging the collar of his dirty robes, yanking him along.
This boy, Lan Jingyi, he’d heard someone call him, conducted himself in a way that is very...untypical of Lan Sect behavior.
He is blunt, and very much willing to impatiently call out Wei Wuxian on his bullshit in a way that may not be as polite and cordial as Wei Ying remembers the Lan Clan being. It had surprised him a little at first to see the boy in Lan robes. He has to admit... it was also refreshing. It seemed that this new generation of Lan cultivators have evolved in a way that Wei Wuxian never thought possible in an environment as restrictive as the Lan Sect.
Wei Ying lets out a exaggerated wail of pain, clutching his neck as if someone had just snapped it.
“Abuse!” He screeches at the top of his lungs. Mo XuanYu naturally had a high, pitchy voice, which adds to the effect nicely. Their entire entourage turns around to fix him with a disapproving glare. This close to the entrance, such ruckus would no doubt carry into the Cloud Recesses. “Let go of me! This is kidnap!”
“You’re hurting him.” Another disciple chides quietly, “It was Hanguang Jun who wanted to take Senior Mo back in the Recesses in the first place. He is our guest.”
“He’s exaggerating!” Lan Jingyi retorts, although his grip loosens incrementally, “I didn’t use any force at all! How could it hurt him?”
“His cultivation level might be very low. That means his pain tolerance may be much lower than ours.” The boy reasons calmly. Lan Jingyi narrows his eyes in suspicion, but then he gives a single nod of acknowledgment, seemingly a sort of tacit agreement. Wei Wuxian holds back a grin, if they only knew who they were talking to...
This other boy, Lan Jingyi’s friend, fits the mould of a Lan cultivator perfectly, all perfect posture and measured voice. In fact, he reminds Wei Ying so much of Lan Z—
“Hanguang Jun!”
The man himself had been leading the Junior disciples at the front of the group on their journey back, but he had turned around when he hears Wei Ying’s fake cry of pain, walking towards them calmly in a flurry of white robes.
He doesn’t say anything, but Lan Jingyi had visibly started panicking a little under the sudden scrutinizing gaze of his Senior, which is given away partly because he immediately launches a passionate self-defense.
“I didn’t do anything to him! I swear! I was just—“
“Release me!” Wei Wuxian cuts in shrilly, doubling his efforts, arms and legs kicking and scratching at thin air as he puts on his best deranged expression. “I don’t want to stay in your stuffy monk sanctuary!”
He’s so desperate right now because he knows better than anyone that the more he spends time with Lan Wangji, the easier it will be for him to realize who this Mo Xuanyu person may really be. These Lan kids didn’t know the old Wei Wuxian, so being in close proximity with them shouldn’t be a problem, but Lan Wangji...
Wei Wuxian makes himself complete dead weight in Lan Jingyis grip, falling down and pounding at the ground like an infant throwing a tantrum. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures.
He knew everyone already thought Mo XuanYu wasn’t right in the head. All Wei Ying has to do at this point was to lean in and exploit that. Hanguang Jun should kick him out in no time.
“I’m not going in!” He yells again, at an obnoxiously loud volume, rolling around in the dirt at the other man’s feet. If only the cultivating world that had been so frightened of him back then could see the fearsome YiLing Patriarch now, he thought, perhaps they would be less inclined to have taken him so seriously. “This is kidnap!”
Purposefully making a huge scene seemed to be working. All the other junior cultivators have halted in their step and turned to survey the situation with a mixture of horror and poorly hidden amusement.
Wei Ying peeks up discreetly at the Hanguang Jun from between his lashes.
Lan Wangji is not someone who would tolerate this kind of behavior under any circumstance, much less from a complete stranger who he had only met a few hours ago.
In fact, if teenager Wei Wuxian had done this 13 years ago, it is very likely that he would have had Bichen drawn on him by now.
Which was why Wei Ying almost stops his little stunt in shock when he sees how unaffected Lan Wangji is. He is as expressionless as ever, face devoid of any outrage or even...mild anger, uninterested in taking any action against Mo XuanYu’s disruptive behavior.
Wei Ying knows he is not the only one surprised by the response, because when Lan Zhan turns to Lan Jingyi and his friend and says,
“He will eventually tire. Then, you can take him inside. Allow him to rest in my Jingshi.” Before promptly turning on his heel and making his way back to the front of the line, both of the Lan Juniors gape after him with a mixture of awe and disbelief on their faces. And Wei Ying along with them.
Wei Wuxian is deposited unceremoniously in the Jingshi about two hours later.
It shames him to admit that Lan Wangji was right... He really did get tire quickly from groveling around on the cold ground for over an hour.
When Lan JingYi and his friend (Lan SiZhui, he learns) get up from the steps they were both sitting on as they both patiently wait out his antics, with mirrored exasperation on their faces, and once again asks him to follow them inside, he grudgingly relents. He can already feel bruises forming on the new, weaker body of Mo XuanYu.
He’d also been informed on his way in that Hanguang Jun had gone to take care of some “important Sect matters that are none of your business” by Lan JingYi. Which meant he was essentially left to his own devices inside Lan Zhan’s personal chambers for the next few hours, which even the Lan juniors themselves seemed to think was a bad idea.
Wei Wuxian unearths several very interesting objects during this time, namely more than a dozen bottles of Emporor’s Smile hidden underneath the floorboards in a corner of Lan Zhan’s Jingshi.
The discovery leaves him sitting in silent disbelief for a good five minutes or so, staring into space and wondering what had happened to his old friend in all the years he was gone.
Last he checked, Lan Wangji can’t drink alcohol. This fact had been tested several times in the years they had been together. Wei Ying remembers vividly the time he had given Lan Zhan one small cup of the liquid, and he had been drunk off his face the entire night.
Which begs the question, what was Hanguang-Jun doing with an entire stash of this stuff in his bedroom? More importantly, how can someone like Lan Zhan suddenly have no regard for his own prized Sect rules?
Wei Ying’s second instinct, when he realises that he had no way of getting any answers to those questions without Lan Zhan actually being here, was to immediately chug down a few bottles of the Emperor’s Smile in quick succession.
He’s been dead for 13 years, and he missed the taste. The familiar burn of it down his throat was a hearty mix of pleasure and pain, and the buzz it gave him felt good.
It was an understatement to say that Wei Wuxian is slightly drunk when Hanguang Jun silently enters the chamber some time after nightfall, arms full with pillows and blankets.
“You should not be lying on the floor.” The cultivator’s voice came from just above his head, a clear note worry in his tone at Wei Ying’s clearly inebriated state. “You are injured.”
Wei Ying’s has already forgotten all about the injury he was referring to, which was a lash of Purple Lightning Jiang Wanyin had inflicted during their little talk. Compared to the amount of lashes Madam Yu used to give him back in the Lotus Pier on a daily basis, that was nothing.
Wei Ying blinks up dopily, eyes glazed and a lopsided grin plastered on his face, “I can’t get up on my own, handsome Gege.” He makes grabby hands at the older, all sense of self-dignity long gone, “Why don’t you carry me to bed instead?”
He says that knowing that Lan Zhan won’t do it. The man had been notorious for hating physical contact, for despising people who do not respecting his strict boundaries—
Wei Wuxian is proven wrong before he could even finish the thought, because Lan Zhan does pick him up, ignoring his frightened little squeak at being moved so quickly in his state.
Lan Wangji gathers him carefully from his position, splayed like a beached starfish on the wooden floor, and lifts into his chest him as if he were merely ragdoll. Wei Ying clutches at a handful of white robes, somehow convincing himself inside his drunken head that if Lan Zhan were to drop him right now, he would no doubt die from the terrifying fall to the floor.
Being this close, he can’t help but notice that Lan Zhan smelt exactly the same as he did all those years ago. He smelt like sandalwood and spring grass, like their youth.
Wei Ying also remembers vividly the last time he’d been close enough to catch a whiff Lan Zhan’s scent. It had been marred by decay and ash and death, then.
He’d missed Lan Zhan so much, he realises suddenly.
At the end of the day, he didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave him behind all these years, all alone. If he really had a choice at the time, if he could just go back and change it—
The sudden sense of loss feels like poison burning a painful hole through his chest. Wei Ying clings to Lan Zhan desperately when the man tried to detach himself.
“You need to rub salve on the wound at least.” Comes the voice in Wei Ying’s ear, although the touch doesn’t disappear right away.
Get it together.
He had to focus. He had a goal to reach, and it was proving to be a lot harder than he initially anticipated.
Without waiting long enough for his sense of embarrassment to kick in, or for him to even think the action through more logically (and realize that it might be the most foolish thing he’d attempted to do since being resurrected) Wei Wuxian swiftly disrobes and lets his clothes drop to the floor, leaving his upper body completely bare in front of Lan Wangji.
“Rub salve on me, handsome Gege.” He says in the most suggestive voice he can manage, face heating up as he feels the sudden burning gaze on his exposed skin.
He resolutely ignore the niggling sense of guilt building in his gut, ignores the way his hands are shaking. Putting on this act felt like a...perversion of their friendship, somehow, a betrayal of the trust they had for each other.
But he knew he had to get out of here, by any means necessary. The longer he stays here, the more likely he’ll be uncovered, and he can’t let that happen. so he bullishly continues...
“I’ll let you do that to me any day.” Wei Ying throws a few exaggerated lash flutters in for good measure.
This has to do it, he thought.
No matter how much meditation Lan Wangji has done on the past 13 years, how much self control he seems to gained one the time they’ve been apart, Lan disciples put righteousness above everything else, it was ingrained in them.
This Mo XuanYu person had only just met Lan Zhan, there was no way he was going to tolerate this.
But when Lan Zhan once again doesn’t reject him outright, simply pushes him back down onto his front and retrieves a vial of salve from the bedside table to begin to wordlessly tend to his wound, he finally realises that something is very much...not right.
“Be still.” Lan Wangji chides, as he slowly and gently laves the salve over the gash.
Did Lan Zhan have some sort of history with Mo XuanYu? Why was he treating this man with so much leniency?
Thinking back to all their encounters, Hanguang Jun acted like he a completely different person around this man, caring and even...affectionate. He never once admonished him for his wild actions, even though Wei Wuxian knows how capable Lan Wangji is of admonishing people, having been the constantly the target of this himself when they were teenagers. He never even mentioned the possibility of kicking him out, even though Wei Wuxian cannot even count on both hands how many Sect rules he had broken today.
The thought that the two had a previous secret...acquaintance left a nasty taste in Wei Ying’s mouth, and an indescribable itch in his gut.
He jerks away suddenly, violently, almost knocking the vial of medicine out of Lan Wangji’s hand. The sudden movement makes the world spin and tilt on an axis around him, but he stubbornly chooses to ignore it.
He jerkily snatches his robes up from the floor and covers himself as best he could. He can’t understand the irrational burning anger that he feels towards the body he’s currently occupying, can’t understand why he doesn’t want Lan Wangji to continue looking at it any longer, but he isn’t in a state to logically question it.
“I can do it myself.”
Lan Wangji seems a little taken aback, confused by the sudden change in demeanor, brows furrowing ever so slightly in worry, but he obediently hands the vial over.
When he is confident that Wei Ying won’t accidentally spill the contents all over the bed, he crosses the room silently to set down the pillows and blankets, forming a small makeshift bed on the floor.
“Rest, when you are done.” Lan Zhan whispers into the darkness once he is comfortable with his handiwork, lowering himself gracefully down on the pile of blankets and pillows, blowing out all the candles in the chamber with a swift flick of his arm.
Wei Ying looks up, making a small, irritated noise of confusion.
Why was Lan Zhan on the floor?
He gets up unsteadily, stumbling over to Lan Wangji shaped lump, until he was standing directly in front of him. “Get up.” He demands, scrunching up his nose in distaste. Lan Wangji doesn’t move. “I’m not taking your bed.”
Lan Zhan calmly lies down on the blankets, folding his arms neatly over his chest and closing his eyes.
Before even he knew what he was doing, Wei Ying plops himself down stubbornly on the other cultivator, so that his body was half on top of Lan Zhan, the heat of the older’s body was seeping through their thin robes, stuck to his back because of the fresh layer of salve that he’d just put on, and burning Wei Ying’s skin.
He braces for impact, waiting for Lan Wangji to pull back in disgust, and push him onto the floor, but it never comes.
Instead, after a long long pause, he feels warm hands hesitantly snaking around his waist, featherlight, to prevent him from tipping over onto the hard ground.
“Is this really what you want?” Lan Zhan whispers into his back. It sends an unconscious shiver up Wei Ying’s spine, a reaction perhaps he would have hidden better if he were more sober.
In the alcohol-induced haze, though, Wei Ying can’t fully comprehend what he was being asked. He tries to explain as best as he can. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. Go back to your bed.”
“It is not a problem.”
This answer, despite being perfectly reasonable, just makes Wei Ying even more inexplicably irritated, and he feels himself stiffen in Lan Zhan’s hold.
Why is it suddenly not a problem for Lan Zhan now, when he would have undoubtedly considered it a problem sixteen years ago? Was it because it concerned his precious Mo XuanYu?
What had this random cultivator done to deserve this from the famously stoic Hanguang Jun?
“You must really like Mo XuanYu, huh?” Wei Ying slurs out without thinking, poorly disguised spite in his voice. “I never knew the famed Lan Er Gongzi to be this generous with any other person.”
He doesn’t get a response.
Lan Wangji just sighs softly, leaning over to lift the blankets up around them and pull it over them both so that he has Wei Ying cacooned in, only his head peaking out. He pushes Wei Ying’s hair out of his face, so that it doesn’t get into his mouth as he continues to babble.
Wei Ying doesn’t coherent long enough to push Lan Wangji for an answer, for the meaning of all this, because before Wei Ying knows it he’s already drifting off, it had been a long day...
Before he slips under, he thinks he hears a soft “Only you, Wei Ying.”
But once he is asleep, he forgets all about it.