Work Text:
Never, in either of his lives, has Lan Zhan ever failed to respond to him when he calls out to him. He knows what it means. Wei Ying can see the restraint in him, the way his hand is clenched into a fist at his back and the slight tremor of his shoulders, the elegant line of his back unnaturally straight, and he knows what he’s about to say.
The rejection doesn’t hurt any less for knowing.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. He looks upset, despite his attempts to hide it, and his voice when he says Wei Ying’s name is laced with pain.
“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Wei Ying says through his tears gathering in his eyes, through the burning at the back of his throat and the constricting of his chest. “I just thought -- but I understand. It’s fine.”
He offers a smile he doesn’t feel -- it’s the least he can do for Lan Zhan, after everything he’s done for him -- but it isn’t enough and Lan Zhan’s expression falls further. “My brother needs me,” Lan Zhan says. “I’m afraid he might not be able to fulfill his duties as sect leader.”
Wei Ying nods, because he thought that’s what it might be, he understands, he really does, but it doesn’t make it easier. “The esteemed Hanguang-Jun, always where the chaos is,” Wei Ying says and manages, somehow, to inject some levity into it. “Not even I can be selfish enough to keep him from that.”
“Not selfish,” Lan Zhan insists.
Wei Ying’s smile is more genuine this time. “Lan Zhan, always thinking the best of me,” Wei Ying says. He swallows down the hurt and the rest of his emotions to unpack later, or never, and straightens his back. He grabs Lil Apple’s bridle and pats her neck, tearing his gaze from Lan Zhan because he’s not sure what he’ll do if he keeps looking at him like that. Like this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting Wei Ying. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways.”
He turns without looking back because he knows if he looks back, he’s not sure he’ll be strong enough to leave. And if he doesn’t, Lan Zhan will, and the only thing worse than leaving himself is having to watch Lan Zhan leave him behind.
But before he can even take a step, Lan Zhan is beside him, grabbing his wrist in a firm grip. Wei Ying glances at his hand and then back up at his face, trying not to hope.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. He will never get tired of hearing Lan Zhan say his name. “Come to Gusu with me.”
Wei Ying knows he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. Because the truth is, Wei Ying is selfish. He knows Lan Zhan has things to do, people to protect, duties to uphold and that their adventure would always come to an end. He also knows that there is an itch beneath his skin that will only be soothed by more of it, more exploration and adventures and reveling in the world that’s still here despite everything. And he’s fine, doing it alone, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Lan Zhan by his side. He wants to keep him as close as he can. He just wants, plain and simple.
“Alright.”
The adoration in Lan Zhan’s expression is almost too much and he laughs, happiness and bittersweetness curling in him with equal force. He won’t be able to stay at Cloud Recesses. They both know it. It will probably make this harder, in the end.
And Wei Ying will be selfish. He is going to spend every last moment trying to convince Lan Zhan to come with him because Wei Ying can’t help himself even when Lan Zhan has been absolutely selfless and does not deserve it. He is not a good person. But Lan Zhan knows all of this, knows him better than he knows himself sometimes, and yet, he’s still asking.
Maybe it’s not just Wei Ying who wants.
~
Despite everything, it’s a relief when they finally step into Cloud Recesses again.
Cloud Recesses is as close to a home as Wei Ying has anymore, he realizes as he follows Lan Zhan up the winding paths. It’s a sobering thought, and it makes the ache in his chest worse knowing that the only reason he has this feeling at all, that he has anywhere in this world to belong, is the man walking just ahead of him.
They visit the Jingshi first. It’s a crisp, clear day and Wei Ying sits outside while Lan Zhan bathes, twirling Chenqing between his fingers. It feels good to have it back, and even better knowing that the reason he has it at all is because he might still have a brother. They still need to talk -- there’s still so much hurt and so much misunderstanding that needs to be resolved before they can even start having a relationship again, however much both of them wish otherwise -- but Wei Ying is confident that it will happen. Maybe not soon, but eventually.
Wei Ying is still Wei Ying, so he grows bored quickly. With nothing else to do, he starts playing music. He starts with upbeat, bawdy tunes he remembers learning in Lotus Pier, wondering if Lan Zhan knows any of the songs, and delighting in the possibility that he does and is currently sitting in the bath, mortified (the lyrics are very creative). Eventually, he transitions into softer, slower songs and it isn’t long before he’s playing their song.
It’s the first time he’s played it on Chenqing in this lifetime, and it is haunting in a way that only Chenqing can articulate, but not in a bad way. It reminds him of Burial Mounds, when he used to play it to himself to help him sleep, the only thing that could quiet the furious swirling of his thoughts and the constant hurt that seemed to vibrate through his entire body. It was soothing in a way nothing else was, and he wrapped himself in the feeling of it, knowing that it was something he had of Lan Zhan, of his old life, that he could hold on to. It no longer has the lingering sadness he once injected into it, no more tremoring notes or quick, perfunctory rests where he fought to take a full breath through the pain of what he’d lost.
He doesn’t realize that Lan Zhan is done with his bath and standing behind him until he finishes his last reprisal and opens his eyes. Lan Zhan’s hair is shiny and wet but freshly combed, twisted up simply just enough to secure his headband, his bloodied clothes replaced with his soft blue ones. He is watching Wei Ying quietly, unassuming, his expression soft and content. He’s the most beautiful person Wei Ying has ever seen and he can’t seem to stop looking.
“Clothes,” Lan Zhan says at last, walking forward and holding out a set of fresh robes in a color very similar to the ones Lan Zhan is currently wearing. A sharp, sudden thrill goes up Wei Ying’s spine to think of what they will look like -- a set, a matching pair, together -- and as seriously addictive as the feeling is, he can’t help but tease Lan Zhan about it.
“Dressing me in your clothes? In your matching clothes? When did Hanguang-Jun get so shameless? What will people say?”
Wei Ying delights in the way Lan Zhan’s ears go red even as his face regains its usual expression. “Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying laughs.
“I am, I am,” Wei Ying agrees. “Thank you. This Wei Wuxian promises to not get them dirty.”
Lan Zhan gives him a look that clearly says, Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and Wei Ying grins at him. “Too dirty,” Wei Ying amends. Lan Zhan looks satisfied.
“Hanguang-Jun!”
They both turn to see Lan Jingyi speedwalking up the path ahead of two other disciples, who are looking on, horrified, at his behavior. It’s enough to make him fight back a laugh, exchanging a look with Lan Zhan, who looks impassive but Wei Ying can tell is quietly amused.
“Do not shout,” Lan Zhan says when Lan Jingyi finally skids to a stop in front of them and bows, first at Lan Zhan and then at Wei Ying.
“Sorry, Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei,” Lan Jingyi says. “I’m glad you got back safe. We weren’t sure where you went.”
“I promised Lan Zhan I would show him the wonders of Yunmeng,” Wei Ying says. “The food, the liquor, the--”
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Lan Zhan interrupts.
“But you don’t even know what I was about to say!”
Lan Zhan ignores him, and Wei Ying can’t help the swell of affection in him, which is an odd response to being ignored. But it’s Lan Zhan, so none of the usual rules apply.
“Hanguang-Jun,” one of the other disciples behind Lan Jingyi interrupts, bowing low and sounding rather bewildered. “Your presence is requested by the Grandmaster as soon as you are settled.”
“Tell him I will be there shortly.”
All three of them bow, and Lan Jingyi gives Wei Ying a short wave which he returns, and then they hurry away from the Jingshi.
“I like that kid,” Wei Ying says.
“He has been a good friend to A-Yuan,” Lan Zhan agrees.
A-Yuan. The happiness that bubbles in Wei Ying is almost too much to bear. “We still need to talk about that,” Wei Ying says.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. “Later. I should go meet with my uncle.”
Despite what he says, he doesn’t move, reluctance written in every line in his body. Wei Ying smiles and leans closer to him, knocking him with his shoulder and lingering longer than he should.
“Go. I’ll go to the guest quarters and take my bath and we can go for a walk later and you can parade me around in your clothes all you like.”
He says it teasingly, intending to draw another reaction out of Lan Zhan, but he doesn’t react how he’s expecting.
“You can stay here,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying raises his eyebrows. “Then people really will talk.”
“I don’t care,” Lan Zhan says.
“You should,” Wei Ying says, because it’s true. “It’s one thing to publicly align yourself with me, it’s another to have me bathing in your rooms.”
“The guest rooms will not have been prepared,” Lan Zhan argues. “Stay here.”
“Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying sighs, throwing his hands up. “Alright, alright,” Wei Ying concedes. “You’re so stubborn. At least let me fill the bath so we can pretend we’re not flaunting about eight rules of hospitality.” Wei Ying realizes what he’s just said and shakes his head. “Who have I become, worried about breaking Lan clan rules? Is this what old age has done to me? Lan Zhan, you’re a terrible influence!”
Lan Zhan looks at him, fond. “I will be back soon.”
Wei Ying watches him go, and even though he knows he will be back, he can’t help thinking this is just once in a never-ending reality of watching Lan Zhan walk away from him. A burning, almost sickening sense of longing overcomes him and he goes to ready his bath before it completely immobilizes him.
His bath is longer than normal. He’s half-hoping that Lan Zhan will return before he can get out of it -- Lan Zhan’s face! -- but he doesn’t. He gets out of the bath and finds a meal waiting for him outside of the door of the Jingshi with two servings. Word has apparently spread and none too subtly. Oh well.
He thinks of ways that he is going to convince Lan Zhan to come back with him. Thinks of places he knows Lan Zhan will like, and where he remembers there being hotbeds of corpse activity (though his data is 16 years out of date -- he’ll have to ask someone to do some reconnaissance for him). The promise of his company is obviously not enough; that’s fine, he knows that as much as Lan Zhan may like him, he is bound to that good heart of his and no one may be enough for him to betray that. It’s a sobering thought that maybe someone could be and it’s not Wei Ying. It makes something curdle in his stomach, and he’s suddenly not as hungry as he was.
He’s still considering what his next move will be when Lan Zhan returns. It’s well past meal time, and the sun is beginning to dip in the sky, hurtling towards evening. Lan Zhan enters quietly and Wei Ying immediately jumps up.
“You’re back! Just in time, I was nearly bored to tears. Entertain me, Lan Zhan!”
He grins at him, rolling on the balls of his feet. Lan Zhan, for his part, has not moved. He’s staring at Wei Ying as if he’s never seen him before, his eyes going slightly wide and his lips parting as if he wants to say something but can’t quite figure out what to say.
Wei Ying stops moving, glancing down at himself. “What’s wrong? Did I spill something?”
He was so distracted thinking when he was getting changed, he’d forgotten about the clothes. They’re soft and comfortable, if a little bit too big, and he can feel a blush crawling up his own neck, threatening to spill over his cheeks. But he’s had so much practice being shameless, he doesn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, my clothes! They look great on me, don’t they, Lan Zhan? I didn’t think they’d fit so well. Blue really is a good color on me.”
He sashays around, making a show of flaring out the edges to show off the pants beneath and flip the edges of the silk belt. When Lan Zhan doesn’t move or say anything else he glances back up.
“Lan Zhan?”
“You do,” Lan Zhan says.
“I do, what?”
“Look good in them.”
That does stop Wei Ying in his tracks. He lets out a choked laugh and tries not to get his hopes up. Lan Zhan’s affection has never been in question. Whether he means it the same way that Wei Ying does, that’s what he’s not fully convinced of. And he’s far too terrified to ask.
After all, he won’t leave with him.
“Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that to me! You’ll give me the wrong idea.” He casts about for another subject before either of them can say things they don’t mean. “What did your uncle want?”
Lan Zhan sits down across from where the food is laid out, untouched on the table, and proceeds to dodge the question. “You haven’t eaten?”
“I was waiting for you.”
Lan Zhan nods. “We should eat first.”
He reaches over and begins to fill a bowl with things that he knows Wei Ying will like and places it in front of him before he does the same for his own bowl. Wei Ying sighs and sits back down, accepting it with a gracious nod.
“Why were you gone for so long? I was getting lonely,” Wei Ying says, that note of teasing in his voice even though it’s true.
“No speaking during meals,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying groans.
“Come on, just this once,” he whines. He gets a little more serious as he watches Lan Zhan carefully, with a bit too much grace, pick up a vegetable. A pit forms in Wei Ying’s stomach. “There’s a reason you’re not telling me, right?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything else, but he sees him tense. They lapse into a silence that grows more and more restless the longer they eat until Wei Ying is shoveling food into his mouth just so they can be done with it and the pressure can be relieved.
“Lan Zhan…”
Lan Zhan sighs and puts down his bowl at last. He looks tired, worn out in a way that Wei Ying hasn’t seen on him since their visit to Lotus Pier.
“My brother has gone into seclusion,” Lan Zhan says. “I have been asked to take on his responsibilities.”
“They’re making you sect leader?” Wei Ying says, a weight dropping in his stomach.
“Acting sect leader,” Lan Zhan corrects. “When my brother comes out of seclusion, the title will return to him.”
Small mercies, at least. Wei Ying pastes on a smile and reaches for his tea cup raising it in a toast. “Congratulations, Lan Zhan. You will make a great sect leader.”
He can feel Lan Zhan’s eyes on him as the bitter tea slides down his throat. “Wei Ying.”
He finishes the last of the tea and brings his arm down to his knee, staring into the cup as he rolls his lips together and avoids his gaze. It’s quiet for a long time, but Wei Ying, for once, is unwilling to be the one to break the silence.
“I do not want this,” Lan Zhan says at last, quietly, as if he’s confessing something shameful.
Wei Ying lifts his head to look at him. He wants to say, then don’t do it, but neither of them have ever been able to stand idly by when they’re needed. “What do you want?” he asks instead.
Lan Zhan’s gold eyes glow with an intensity that Wei Ying hasn’t seen in them before, his gaze unflinching, staring so intensely into Wei Ying he’s sure that he can see everything . It’s terrifying and thrilling, all at once. Lan Zhan’s lips part, about to speak, and Wei Ying feels his heart begin to race and jump into his throat. He’s learned to read Lan Zhan better than he can read anyone else, but there’s some things even he can’t see and there are things that he needs to hear.
There’s a knock against the Jingshi door and then a quiet voice. “Hanguang-Jun, the guest quarters are prepared for Master Wei.”
The disciple leaves quickly afterwards, barely an interruption, but the moment is lost. They haven’t stopped looking at each other, but he can tell that Lan Zhan isn’t going to say anything else. Wei Ying swallows his disappointment and gets up.
“It’s about time for all good little sect leaders to go to bed,” Wei Ying says.
“You do not need to go,” Lan Zhan says, and it sounds like he’s talking about more than just leaving for the evening.
“I do,” Wei Ying says. “I really do. If Grandmaster Lan catches me here after 9, there will be no end to the punishment. I can’t copy all the rules again, Lan Zhan. I’ve just managed to forget them all!”
“There are 1011 additions since you last copied them,” Lan Zhan says.
“There are... what,” Wei Ying says, appalled. “Also, how?”
“Many changes were made after you came to stay,” Lan Zhan says.
“I’m the reason there’s more rules?” Wei Ying says, outraged and also secretly delighted that he had managed to enrage Lan Qiren quite that much. “I’m...strangely flattered.”
“I told Uncle you would say that,” Lan Zhan says. “And not all of them. Just many.”
“‘Just many’!” Wei Ying crows. “Tell me one.”
“‘Do not take pride in shameful actions that have no rules yet laid forth’.”
Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs. “Your uncle does have a sense of humor.” Wei Ying stretches, and then grabs Chenqing and the small saddlebag he’d taken off of Lil Apple before they’d taken him to the stables. Lan Zhan stands as well and walks Wei Ying to the door.
“Good night, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. It’s past twilight now, nearing the 9pm curfew, and there’s a serene stillness to the air that isn’t present during the day, however quiet Cloud Recesses usually is. Lan Zhan doesn’t offer to walk Wei Ying to the guest quarters, and Wei Ying doesn’t ask. There’s still so much unsaid between them; Wei Ying wonders if they’ll be able to say everything before he has to go.
“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. He feels Lan Zhan’s eyes on him long after he can no longer see the Jingshi.
~
With Lan Zhan becoming acting sect leader, Wei Ying knows that the likelihood of Lan Zhan leaving with him now is slim. Slim, but not impossible, and Wei Ying likes those odds. It isn’t unheard of, after all, for sect leaders to leave their sect for weeks or months at a time. Lan Qiren can take care of the day-to-day activities, which Wei Ying is sure he will do anyway, and Wei Ying will ensure that they never stray too far from outposts where they could be found if they needed to be.
He gives himself two weeks.
He starts by keeping his promise and letting Lan Zhan parade him around in his clothes the next day. His own clothes had been neatly folded and left outside his door that morning, all of the blood stains gone and the tears mended. No point in getting them dirty now, he reasoned as he put them away and swathed himself in pale blue.
Lan Zhan’s been given a day to rest before his sect leader duties start, so they walk to the back hills, Wei Ying keeping up a steady stream of chatter about everything and nothing. How nice it is up in the mountains during the spring and summer, how cold it is during the winter, how the bunnies look healthier than ever thanks to Lan Zhan’s doting, his musings about where Wen Ning and A-Yuan currently are and if they miss them. They walk past many places that they visited in the past, and Wei Ying reminisces, telling Lan Zhan thoughts he had back then that he’d never told him before. Lan Zhan, as always, is an attentive listener and occasionally asks questions or comments on things Wei Ying is saying, especially when Wei Ying tries to embellish stories he was there for.
“Isn’t this fun, Lan Zhan?” he asks, bounding ahead of him and picking up a piece of dried bamboo laying just off the path. He lunges for Lan Zhan with it, and he blocks with a sheathed Bichen, countering and parrying until they are both darting across the path. Wei Ying’s moves grow more and more daring as Lan Zhan’s get more and more preemptive until Wei Ying overcorrects on one of Lan Zhan’s counters and flings himself back into the dirt, Bichen’s sheath kissing his throat a moment later.
“Spare me, Hanguang-Jun!” Wei Ying says, full of drama, a thin sheen of sweat on his face from the exertion and a smile on his face. “I am but a humble cultivator who cannot dream of matching such beauty or skill.”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan says, returning Bichen to his side, but the tips of his ears are stained pink and there is fondness in his expression that makes Wei Ying’s breath stall in his chest. He grins and rises up to his elbows, content to lay in the middle of the path.
“Well, Lan Zhan? My skills are still impressive even after all this time. If I keep cultivating Mo Xuanyu’s golden core, I might even be able to take on the great Hanguang-Jun again, ha!”
“I would like that,” Lan Zhan says.
“We don’t have to wait that long,” Wei Ying continues. “If you come with me, we could do this when we go town to town. Think of it! Spending all of our time training like this and going on night hunts. With time for fun, of course. There’s so many places I want to show you! I think Jiang Cheng and I might finally have enough of an understanding that he won’t imprison me on sight, so we really can visit Lotus Pier! I can show you all the places I got into trouble. There’s more of those than places I didn’t...”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and there’s a note of sadness to it, of regret, that hurts to hear. “I am acting sect leader.”
“I know,” Wei Ying says, a little too quickly. “I know. Let’s not talk about it now. Didn’t you say you had something to show me?”
He picks himself up off the ground and brushes off the worst of the dirt. He’s kept the front of his robes miraculously clean, but he’s sure, despite his earlier assurances, the back is streaked with it.
“How do you Lans keep your clothes clean?” he complains as he tries to get some of the loose leaves that are sticking to him off of his back. He twists around to see if he can see whatever is currently digging into his skin near his shoulder blade, and when he turns around, Lan Zhan has moved closer, one hand reaching over his shoulder and brushing the shell of his ear. He freezes, sucking in a breath, before Lan Zhan produces a crushed flower petal and tosses it away.
He’s so close. He can feel the warmth from his body and can smell sandalwood and can feel his breath on his face. Wei Ying wants to kiss him. He’s never wanted anything more in his life.
“This way,” Lan Zhan says, taking a step back, unaware of Wei Ying’s thoughts. Wei Ying takes a deep steadying breath once Lan Zhan walks past him and thinks it’s for the best.
He takes him to a beautiful waterfall that Wei Ying has never seen before. The water tumbles down the cliff face in tendrils and creates a crisp, beautiful pool below that is so clear Wei Ying can see the smooth stones at the center of it, despite how deep it is.
He runs to the edge to admire it, dropping down into a crouch to run his fingers in it. The water is icy and he cups his hands to take a sip of it, the taste fresh and clean. He twists around and grins at Lan Zhan. “This is amazing! I’ve never been here before.”
“It is not well-known,” Lan Zhan says, coming to stand beside him when Wei Ying straightens up. “I found it when I was in seclusion.”
When he was forced into seclusion as punishment for defending Wei Ying. He still hasn’t heard the entire story, just what little Lan Zhan and Lan Xichen have said, but he’s pieced together enough on his own to know that the whip scars on Lan Zhan’s back and his time in the back hills are not unconnected. It makes him furious, on Lan Zhan’s behalf and his own, to think about it too long. How Lan Qiren could do that to his nephew, how Lan Xichen could allow it...there are not enough lifetimes to repay Lan Zhan for what he’s done for him or enough to forgive either Lan Xichen or Lan Qiren.
“How long were you here?” Wei Ying asks. He’s not sure why; he already knows the answer from the conversation he and Lan Xichen had in front of the Jingshi. But he suddenly feels the need to hear it from Lan Zhan himself so he doesn’t take it back.
“Three years,” Lan Zhan says easily, though his expression, so open earlier, shuts down.
“While you were injured?” Wei Ying asks, knowing he’s pressing his luck.
Lan Zhan’s reluctance to answer is palpable. “...Yes.”
Wei Ying clenches his fists, and his jaw tightens. It isn’t until Lan Zhan wraps a gentle hand around his wrist that Wei Ying feels the swirl of resentment coiling around his feet.
“Wei Ying. It is alright.”
“It really isn’t,” Wei Ying says, but he focuses on calming himself, focuses on the places where Lan Zhan’s fingers press into his skin and the soft, soothing stroke of his thumb against his pulse point. The resentment dissipates, even though his anger does not.
“I don’t regret it,” Lan Zhan says. “And I would do it again, if it was for you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Wei Ying says, fighting back the emotion clawing its way up his throat. “You shouldn’t...you don’t deserve things like that. I’m not worth it.”
“Wei Ying is worth it,” Lan Zhan says with his usual stubbornness, emotion leaking into his voice. “Wei Ying will always be worth it.”
Wei Ying has cried so much in the past few days, he doesn’t think he has any tears left. He fights them in a way he usually doesn’t, because if he starts, he’s not sure he’ll stop. He smiles instead and lets out a wet exhale, placing his other hand over Lan Zhan’s on his wrist and squeezes.
They stay in the back hills for most of the day, only each other for company, but eventually, they wander back down. Wei Ying automatically starts heading to the Jingshi, but Lan Zhan sweeps away towards the main pavilion and Wei Ying can’t do anything but follow.
Dinner is just finishing up when they arrive, and nearly every disciple in Cloud Recesses is leaving the dining hall in order to do the evening chores and rituals. They part and bow as Lan Zhan walks through them, his head held high, fist tucked into the small of his back and the other holding Bichen loosely at his side, looking every bit the cold, peerless Hanguang-Jun they believe him to be. Wei Ying falls into step beside him, still confused as to where they’re going, but amused by the widening eyes of the junior disciples, and the hushed whispers of the senior disciples, who really should know better.
They end up on the other side of Cloud Recesses when Lan Zhan finally stops. Wei Ying, who’s not expecting it, nearly trips in his effort to stay on the narrow path. Lan Zhan reaches out a hand and steadies him, his light grip on Wei Ying’s arm burning through his clothes, especially when he trails his hand down, his eyes tracing the movement, with a reverence and care that makes Wei Ying shiver.
“There,” Lan Zhan says, satisfied. “Paraded.”
Wei Ying stares at him for a long moment, shocked, and then begins to laugh so hard he starts to cry, and lets Lan Zhan pull him back towards the Jingshi for dinner.
~
The next week is incredibly bittersweet.
Lan Zhan’s duties as sect leader begin almost immediately. The first few days, they keep him busy from before Wei Ying wakes to well past curfew, teaching him things he’ll have to know, instructing him on projects Lan Xichen had already begun or was considering taking on, asking for guidance on affairs brought up by the various offshoot sects still remaining around the region. He tells Wei Ying about his day in tired, short sentences when he returns to the Jingshi in the evening to have dinner, always apologetic. Wei Ying whines about being abandoned and left behind, plays it up until he sees the ghost of a smile on Lan Zhan’s face, but really, he’s just worried. Lan Zhan looks worse and worse each evening he comes back, weighed down by the responsibility.
Wei Ying misses him. He stays near the Jingshi, in case Lan Zhan has breaks during the day, and entertains himself by practicing his sword forms, composing music, and reading books Lan Zhan has sneaked him from the library.
(“There was no sneaking involved,” Lan Zhan says, pulling his sleeve back and pouring their evening tea the first night. “I have permission to remove books from the library.” Wei Ying points out that he’s probably not allowed to remove them for other people, and Lan Zhan simply says, “They are not for other people, they are for Wei Ying,” and Wei Ying doesn’t bother trying to crush the rising swell of affection for this stubborn man.)
Their lack of togetherness impacts Wei Ying’s plans to convince him to leave, but he adapts, adopting smaller and more intimate gestures. He offers to comb Lan Zhan’s hair to try and relax him before he goes to bed, and spends nearly an hour every night smoothing the silk strands of his hair and rubbing the knots of tension out of Lan Zhan’s neck. He ties his hair in loose, elegant braids like he used to do for Jiang Cheng and Shijie just to see the wrinkle of displeasure on Lan Zhan’s nose when Wei Ying brandishes a mirror to show him his handiwork, though Lan Zhan never tells him to stop. He makes him dinner (bland and uninteresting, just how he likes it), spends a day smuggling every last bunny into the Jingshi so they can play with them (he then spends a day writing all the new sect rules, once for each bunny, when Lan Qiren catches him in the act, but the smile Lan Zhan gives him is more than worth it) and helps him go through the sect projects, tweaking details, transcribing things when Lan Zhan gets too tired to write, and coming up with clever, efficient ideas of how to help more people over a wider area.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts one evening while Wei Ying is outlining his new plan for how to improve the spirit lure flags to cover a larger radius and make it clearer what kind of spirits they’re attracting. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Do what? Help come up with ideas? I know, I like doing it,” Wei Ying says. “Besides, don’t give me too much credit. It’s mostly selfish. I’m sure you’ve noticed that most of these ideas are either to protect A-Yuan and the other juniors, or make your life more fun. Or make your uncle slightly more miserable.”
Or help make it easier for you to leave, Wei Ying doesn’t say.
“You are enough,” Lan Zhan says, ignoring everything Wei Ying’s just said and capturing his gaze with enough conviction to keep the scoff inWei Ying’s throat. He still seems to know it’s there, because he repeats it again, articulating each word so that there is no way that Wei Ying won’t understand.
Then why can’t we stay together? Wei Ying wants to scream, but it isn’t fair, and he knows it. Another question has begun to creep up recently, filling his mind with doubt even as Lan Zhan says things that make his heart stop and soothe aches within him he’d lived with for so long he didn’t even know he needed them to be healed.
Why haven’t you asked me to stay?
He’s not sure why he wants Lan Zhan to ask, because he can’t stay, not even for this new home that he’s longed for, not even for Lan Zhan. What had started as an itch has become something almost physical in him and the longer he waits, the harder it is for him to not show his restlessness and his desire to get back on the road. Something he inherited from his mother, he’s sure Lan Qiren would say with no small amount of disdain, but Wei Ying knows it’s more than that. With everything he’s done, he owes it to himself and the world to try and right some of those wrongs. He wants to help and make the world better than when he left it the first time.
It’s a mess. He’s trying not to let it get out of hand, is trying to balance his heart with his head, but it’s made so much more difficult whenever Lan Zhan creates natural spaces all over his life for Wei Ying to fill, as their touches get more frequent and ever bolder, when he sees the radiant happiness that he feels reflected in Lan Zhan’s expression when he thinks Wei Ying isn’t looking.
He’s so in love it hurts.
A week after they return, Lan Zhan gets the afternoon off. Wei Ying takes no time in getting Lan Zhan out of Cloud Recesses, in the fear that someone might try and pull him back into his duties, and they end up in Caiyi Town to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather that has rippled through Gusu.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls, waving him over with two skewers of the spiciest meat he may have ever encountered. The stall he’d bought them from made his eyes water from halfway across the road. His nose was still running from it; he can’t wait to try it.
Lan Zhan returns the pendant he had been looking at to the vendor table and walks over to Wei Ying.
“I got you a gift,” Wei Ying says, the skewerless hand behind his back. He leans forward into Lan Zhan’s space with a mischievous grin that is just as bold as the relentless pounding of his heart. “Do you want to see?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says patiently.
Wei Ying dances around him to hook his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, pressing the length of his body against Lan Zhan’s back to get him to start walking. He’s not as tall as he once was, but he is tall enough to be this shameless. “What are you going to give me for it?” he breathes into his ear.
He can see the tip of Lan Zhan’s ear turn red from where he’s leaning and just barely manages to keep from kissing it. “I thought you said it was a gift.”
“It is! But it would be improper for someone of Hanguang-Jun’s spotless reputation to not return a gift in kind. You’re supposed to be setting an example to the younger generation, Lan Zhan. What would A-Yuan say?”
“A-Yuan is not here,” Lan Zhan says. “And he would probably ask why his father doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘gift’. You are describing a trade. Or a bribe.”
Wei Ying pouts, digging his chin into Lan Zhan’s shoulder in mock outrage, even as something in him thrills at being called A-Yuan’s father. “Fine, fine. I’ll give it to you without asking for anything in return. A paragon of virtue, this Wei Wuxian!”
He pulls away from Lan Zhan. They’ve now walked the length of the vendor street and are walking on one of the paths shaded by trees that are still in blossom that lead toward Biling Lake. There’s still plenty of people out, but it’s quieter here and Wei Ying admires the way the dappled light seems to make Lan Zhan glow beneath it. He bounds ahead and twists around before Lan Zhan can see what he has in his hand and stops.
“Ta da!” he says, holding out his gift. It’s a fan, perfect for a warm day like this, decorated with two rabbits and a delicate river scene. Lan Zhan takes it carefully, as if it is something precious, and tests it out. The relief on his face when he gets a waft of air makes Wei Ying laugh.
“Beautiful and resourceful,” Wei Ying says, transferring one of his meat skewers to his newly free hand so he can try it. “The perfect gift.”
“Just like Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying wheezes inelegantly as he chokes on his food. Once he recovers, Lan Zhan says, “I have a gift for you, too.”
“Lan Zhan! After all of that, you were going to give me something all along?”
“Gifts should be given generously, with no expectation,” Lan Zhan says, and there’s a glint in his eye that he only gets when he’s teasing. Wei Ying loves it.
Lan Zhan presents him a white silk pouch. He swallows back the torrent of emotion within him, puts both his skewers back into one hand, and opens it, tipping the contents into his palm and making sure his food doesn’t stain the pouch. It’s a breathtaking blue jade pendant a little bit bigger than a coin with white tassels, intricately carved with a cloud motif.
“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying manages to stutter out.
“For Chenqing,” Lan Zhan says. “Do you like it?”
“It’s amazing,” Wei Ying says, a little breathless, closing his fingers around it and feeling the cool stone growing warm in his hand. “I love it. But it must have cost you a small fortune! It’s way too much.”
“Not too much,” Lan Zhan says. “I want you to have it. As a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” Wei Ying asks.
“That you always have a home here.”
If he thought he was breathless before, that punches the air right from Wei Ying’s lungs. It’s one thing to feel like a place is home and another to be welcomed in it. It had been a special kind of pain to still view Lotus Pier as home, long after he had left, and not be accepted back. After that loss, he’d never expected to be welcomed back anywhere, ever again. He always thought he’d have to forge his own path, but here is Lan Zhan, giving it to him without being asked, easily, as if that was always true.
He opens his mouth to say something -- something he’ll probably regret in a few days when he has to leave, something that every fiber of his being is screaming out for him to say because they’ve already wasted so much time -- but before he can get it out, there’s a huff behind him.
“You! What are you doing here? I thought you left to travel or something.”
Wei Ying spins around to face an adorably disgruntled Jin Ling, who is having a hard time maintaining his air of annoyance. It reminds him of Jiang Cheng when they were young and there’s a pang of wistfulness and nostalgia that he’s surprised to find doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.
“Jin Ling!” Wei Ying says, slipping his jade pendant back its pouch and tucking it in his sleeve for safe keeping. “I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you have a sect to run?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I didn’t come here for fun,” Jin Ling says sourly.
“Really? Not even to see some certain Lan friends of yours...”
Jin Ling sputters and turns bright red, and Wei Ying laughs. There’s a whine from beside him, and Wei Ying’s eyes alight on Fairy, sitting demurely next to Jin Ling. Wei Ying yelps and drops his skewers, scrambling back into Lan Zhan’s arms. Lan Zhan steadies him, and then deftly steps around and in front of him, effectively hiding him from the dog. Lan Zhan is so good to him.
“Ugh, this again? Fairy is really nice. You’re going to start hurting her feelings.” Still, Jin Ling takes pity on him and whistles. “Fairy, go stay with the rest of the group.”
She lets out a bright yip that has Wei Ying curling further into Lan Zhan’s back before trotting off to terrorize the rest of the world. Wei Ying doesn’t move until Lan Zhan tilts his head back.
“She’s gone,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying lets out an aggrieved sound and peeks back out over his shoulder.
“You made me drop my food! I barely even tasted it!”
Jin Ling rolls his eyes.
“You’re even more shameless than the last time I saw you, clinging onto Hanguang-Jun in public like that. I don’t know how that’s even possible, it’s only been a week,” Jin Ling says. He seems to remember himself and that Lan Zhan is there, and he bows awkwardly. “Hanguang-Jun.”
“Where’s my bow?” Wei Ying complains. “I’m also your senior.”
“Uncle says I don’t have to bow to anyone I don’t respect,” Jin Ling says, looking smug. “Or if their family name is ‘Wei’.”
“You--!”
“You arrived early,” Lan Zhan interrupts with his usual calm.
Jin Ling looks a bit sheepish and his eyes dart to the ground. “Well, it’s an important meeting,” he says. “I didn’t want to be late.”
“Meeting?” Wei Ying asks, coming fully out from behind Lan Zhan and giving him a curious look.
“The sect leaders are gathering to discuss what should be done about the title of Chief Cultivator,” Lan Zhan says to him.
“There’s a power vacuum,” Jin Ling adds, straightening up, obviously repeating something one of his advisors must have told him. “We need to resolve it before things can get too unstable.”
Lan Zhan nods in agreement and Jin Ling perks up even more, almost preening under the praise.
“All the sect leaders?” Wei Ying says, his mouth running dry.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. “We have invited all clans, including the smaller ones. Everyone should have a say.”
Despite what that means -- namely, that he’ll be seeing Jiang Cheng far sooner than he intended -- he can’t help but smile at Lan Zhan. It isn’t hard to guess whose idea that had been. Certainly not any of the Lan elders. He wonders how hard Lan Zhan had to fight for that.
“Anyway,” Jin Ling says, forcing them to look back at him. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”
“Keeping Hanguang-Jun company, of course!” Wei Ying says, looping his arm through Lan Zhan’s with dramatic flair. “He simply can’t bear to be without me. Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, an undercurrent of something else in his voice that has Wei Ying tightening his grip around his arm.
“See?” Wei Ying says, hoping his voice still sounds normal.
“Whatever,” Jin Ling says. “I’m leaving. See you later, I guess.”
He moves to leave, but then hesitates. “Is...I mean, could you pass a message…”
“Sizhui isn’t here,” Wei Ying says with a knowing smirk. “But Lan Jingyi is.”
“I didn’t ask!” Jin Ling says, blushing fiercely again. “I just told them I would let them know next time I was in town, and now I’m in town, so…nevermind, don’t tell them anything, I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you.”
He stomps away before Wei Ying can even assure him that he’ll pass the message along.
“That brat,” Wei Ying says once Jin Ling’s gone and he and Lan Zhan have started walking down toward the canals, arms no longer linked but still keeping close. “Jiang Cheng has been a terrible influence. He’s just like him at that age. He didn’t even bow to you when he left.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, remaining a soothing presence at his side. Wei Ying sighs and puts his hands behind his head, tilting his head toward the sun. “It’s good that he’s making friends though. I just hope he’s smart enough to keep them.”
They reach the edge of the canal. The breeze is nicer, cooler, even just a few steps closer to the water. Wei Ying takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, enjoying the way the wind picks up the loose strands of his hair and tangles them up, savors Lan Zhan beside him, close enough to touch.
“Chief Cultivator, huh?” Wei Ying says to himself and tries to ignore the vicious churning in his gut.
~
Two days later and Cloud Recesses is overrun by sect leaders. Wei Ying doesn’t attend the formal greetings -- he doesn’t want to go, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be welcome there, anyway, despite Lan Zhan’s assurances to the contrary -- and makes himself generally scarce, but because he has terrible luck, he still runs into nearly all of them, regardless.
He somehow manages to avoid Jiang Cheng most of the morning by hiding in the back hills, but someone must have seen him heading that direction because he’s wading in one of the streams, his pants rolled up to his knees to catch a fish for his lunch, when Jiang Cheng finds him.
“Wei Wuxian!”
Wei Ying startles and nearly falls in, the fish he’d been slowly corralling for the better part of an hour darting away. Wei Ying looks towards the shore, scowling.
“You made me lose my fish!”
“Serves you right. You shouldn’t be fishing back here.”
“Says who? Lan Zhan doesn’t mind and he’s sect leader now.”
“Yeah, well, Lan Wangji would let you get away with anything. He’s an idiot when it comes to you.”
Wei Ying puts his hands on his hips, the water seeping through his clothes, defensive. He’s nervous in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, not sure what Jiang Cheng wants or why he’s sought him out. A part of him dares to hope it’s to resolve what neither of them had been brave enough to do back at Guanyin Temple, but he knows better. He should know better, anyway. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting.”
“It’s not until later tonight, which I thought you would have known considering you’ve apparently been here for over a week.”
“I’m not a sect leader, and it’s none of my business,” Wei Ying says.
Jiang Cheng snorts, derisive. “Yeah, that’s horseshit. You make everything your business, even when it’s clear you’re not wanted.”
Wei Ying fights down the hurt at that comment and wades out of the stream to face Jiang Cheng on shore. He’s a little mollified to see Jiang Cheng take an unsure step back.
“Afraid of me, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying says. He means to say it with a smirk and a mean, teasing edge, but even to himself, he just sounds tired as he sits down on one of the larger rocks and tugs his boots back on.
“I’ve never been afraid of you,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying doesn’t respond, putting all of his focus into keeping his hands from shaking as he puts himself together. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself, and looks up when Jiang Cheng doesn’t say anything else, leaning an elbow on his propped up knee.
“If you’re going to ask me something, just ask it.”
He expects Jiang Cheng to get defensive and lash out, much like Jin Ling had a few days ago, so he’s surprised when Jiang Cheng says, “Do you hate me?”
Wei Ying stares at him, completely thrown. “What?”
“You heard what I said,” Jiang Cheng snaps. He looks angry, but Wei Ying can see how hard he’s gripping Sandu in his fist, knows him well enough after everything to see that he’s anxious. Jiang Cheng is his brother, who he grew up with, who he loves more than most people left in the world, and nothing will ever change that.
Maybe he should have said that before. Maybe it would have changed things. But it’s too late for those regrets now; all he can do is answer his question.
“No,” Wei Ying says. “You’re my brother.”
Jiang Cheng turns back to him, a fire and something else, something that Wei Ying doesn’t dare name, in his eyes. “That’s it? It’s that easy for you?”
“Yeah,” Wei Ying says. “It is.”
Jiang Cheng scoffs, his expression caught in a bitter smile, twisting his head away like he can’t let Wei Ying see what else is bubbling to the surface, even though Wei Ying has seen everything, the best and worst of him. There’s nowhere to hide. “Even at this you’re better than me,” Jiang Cheng says, and anxiety races in Wei Ying’s veins. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate you.”
It’s not surprising to hear, but Wei Ying flinches, hurt all the same. “I know.”
“You don’t know shit.”
Wei Ying feels irritation rise within him and it makes him ache that it’s comfortable and familiar. As if he’s somehow missed it. “If that’s all you’re here to say--”
“Shut up and listen to me, for once,” Jiang Cheng interrupts, waspish. “I wasn’t done.”
He paces for a moment, his fingers tightening and loosening around Zidian as if he’s thinking about using it. Wei Ying waits, but the longer he goes without Jiang Cheng saying something, the more jittery he gets. He sees the passage of time in Jiang Cheng’s silence; he’s never once stopped to consider what he’s about to say, not with Wei Ying.
He seems to be debating with himself, and right when Wei Ying is ready to end the suspense, he hears Jiang Cheng’s low mutter of, “Fuck it.” He straightens up and glares at Wei Ying as if he’s somehow making him speak.
“I buried you,” Jiang Cheng says. “After you fell, I found your body and buried you in an unmarked grave just outside Nightless City.”
Wei Ying finds it suddenly hard to breathe. “Jiang Cheng…”
“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng says. “Everyone was looking for you. Mostly because they wanted to make an example of you. Some of them wanted to get a piece of you like a trophy. To show off what they had done to the Yiling Patriarch.” He sees Jiang Cheng’s fists clench, his shoulders tightening with tension as he remembers things that Wei Ying can’t. “But I got there first. Even before your righteous Hanguang-Jun.” He pauses for a moment, as if daring Wei Ying to comment on the scathing way he says Lan Zhan’s title, but Wei Ying stays quiet, not rising to the bait. Jiang Cheng continues. “I took Chenqing and buried you under a tree. I did it the same day we buried A-Jie. The shittiest fucking day of my life and I’ve had plenty of shitty days.”
Wei Ying feels too big for his body, his skin crawling. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks.
Jiang Cheng ignores him. “When you showed up here again, I went back to check. The grave was still there, and so were you. What was left of you, anyway.” He finally looks away.
“Where is it?” Wei Ying asks after a few false starts, his throat dry. His mind is somehow racing and at a standstill simultaneously, like a wild horse trapped behind a gate.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jiang Cheng says. “Nothing’s there anymore.”
A fissure of alarm goes through him. “You didn’t--did you burn what was left? Of my...remains?” Wei Ying asks, the sentiment strange enough on its own, but even stranger when he realizes that he actually cares what happened to them. It is probably safer if Jiang Cheng did burn them. His bones are potentially potent ingredients for some very nasty spells in the wrong hands, but he can’t help but feel an odd sense of...he isn’t sure. Loss? Regret? He never imagined that someone would do this for him, and now to understand that Jiang Cheng had, and what that could mean for Wei Ying, what a gift it was to even consider being able to lay to rest that part of himself, to maybe begin to let everything go...
Jiang Cheng doesn’t say anything for a long time and then glances back, rolling his eyes at whatever look is on Wei Ying’s face. “Of course I fucking didn’t,” Jiang Cheng says. “Who do you think I am?”
My brother, Wei Ying doesn’t say, and even though this is the weirdest conversation to have with anyone, let alone Jiang Cheng, he’s touched. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for? All I’m here to tell you is that I have a pile of bones that’s cluttering up my treasure rooms and I’m sick of it,” Jiang Cheng says dismissively, steadfastly not looking at him. “So come get it.”
Wei Ying stares at him, not quite daring to believe what he seems to be suggesting. “At...Lotus Pier?”
Jiang Cheng lets out an explosive sigh. “Are you stupid? Of course at Lotus Pier! What do you think, I just carry them on me? That’s so creepy and weird, what the fuck.”
Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng is inviting him to Lotus Pier. Wei Ying gives a wet laugh, the burn of tears hot behind his eyes. “You better have been keeping me in something nice,” Wei Ying says. “Swathed in silks, or laid on fine woods, or in an interesting box.”
“I got a vegetable seller in town to dump out his rotting cabbages from an old crate and used that,” Jiang Cheng says. “That interesting enough for you?”
“The disrespect,” Wei Ying complains, but he can’t hide his smile and doesn’t miss the shadow of a smirk on Jiang Cheng’s own as he turns away. Something heavy that had been tangled in his chest, weighing him down, unwinds and he lets it float away into the mountain air.
They walk back down the mountain together after that, without saying much else. When they part, Jiang Cheng awkwardly stutters out that when Wei Ying comes to Yunmeng he might as well get all of his shit so Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to deal with it anymore, and if he’s already going to be at Lotus Pier, he should just stay with him so he can make sure that Wei Ying doesn’t try to leave in the dead of night without it. It’s harsh and inelegant, but Wei Ying sees the offer for what it is and he leaves feeling so full of hope he’s sure he’ll burst with it.
He wants more than anything to tell Lan Zhan what happened, or some of what happened, anyway, but the meeting is starting soon and he’s been strictly forbidden by Lan Qiren to keep flouting basic decency by staying in the Jingshi while the other sect leaders are there. As much as he loves to annoy Lan Qiren, he’s sure driving him to a qi deviation will make things harder on Lan Zhan and steal more of his time away.
He walks the grounds instead, none of his good mood diminished even when he runs into Sect Leader Yao and has to endure his none-too-subtle jabs at how badly his presence reflects on the Lan clan’s sterling reputation. By the time he makes it back to the guest quarters, it’s past dinner but, like many of the other nights he’s been here, there’s still a meal waiting for him at his door, with a jar of Emperor’s Smile that he’s sure none of the Lan disciples put there. He grins, toasts to the man he loves, and for an evening, pretends that everything is going to work out the way he wants.
~
Wei Ying is many things. Lucky has never been one of them.
~
Wei Ying rises early the next morning feeling determined and hopeful. It’s light enough to tell him that the Lan disciples are all awake, and have been for at least a few hours, but the guest quarters are still and quiet and he takes care not to make too much noise.
He heads to the Jingshi, but is stopped by two Lan disciples who are standing guard out front, obviously to keep this exact scenario from happening. One of them is Lan Jingyi, who has the grace to at least look apologetic when he stops Wei Ying from heading in.
“Sorry, Senior Wei,” Lan Jingyi says, shrugging helplessly. “Lan-laoshi says you’re not allowed to go in.”
“Well, can you go tell Lan Zhan I’m here, at least?” Wei Ying asks.
“No,” the other disciple, an older woman who has a stern set to her mouth that Wei Ying recognizes from a few of the meetings he’s sat in on, says curtly. Wei Ying wrinkles his nose at her, before turning back to Lan Jingyi with a coaxing grin. Lan Jingyi glances sideways at the other disciple, obviously starting to cave, but she narrows her eyes at him and he straightens up.
“Sorry,” he says again. “Even if I was allowed to, I can’t. He’s not even here.”
“Jingyi-shidi!” the other disciple hisses.”We weren’t supposed to tell him anything!”
“Thanks!” Wei Ying calls as he beats a hasty retreat, hearing Lan Jingyi’s entreaties that he didn’t mean to, making a note to himself to tell Lan Zhan to go easy on him when they’re doling out his discipline.
He stops running when he reaches the main pavilion, twirling Chenqing in his hand as he thinks. “Now if I were a Lan Zhan, where would I go?”
He checks the library pavilion, because he’s right here, but it’s locked tight. He wasn’t really expecting him to be here, anyway. Lan Zhan’s been avoiding it since he became sect leader because it gives everyone too easy access to him and is yet another place Wei Ying is banned from entering. It’s still early, well before he’ll be needed for any of his regular duties, so he’s probably gone somewhere to meditate or be alone. Back hills it is, then. Destination in mind, Wei Ying heads out.
It’s odd that Lan Zhan wasn’t in the Jingshi, knowing that it would be the first place Wei Ying would look for him, especially since he didn’t see him at all yesterday. Dread wells in him, but he forces it down, tries to keep the optimism he’s been cultivating since his talk with Jiang Cheng. He probably just knew that Wei Ying would be stopped trying to enter the Jingshi and didn’t want to tempt him into any rule-breaking.
He visits the Cold Springs and then roams aimlessly for a little while with no luck, but then remembers the place Lan Zhan brought him a few days ago, with the beautiful waterfall and clean water. With renewed purpose, he enjoys his early morning walk through the forest.
He hears Lan Zhan before he sees him. He’s playing their song, the one that Wei Ying still doesn’t know the name of, and he smiles to himself, the melody stirring up all the usual emotions within him. He doesn’t follow the path that Lan Zhan took him last time, but instead follows the sound of the guqin. He ends up on the rocks on the far side of the lake, and sees Lan Zhan, as beautiful and ethereal as ever, with his instrument resting on a flat rock in front of him and his bright white robes immaculate and pooling around him.
He doesn’t seem to have noticed him, and Wei Ying smiles, taking Chenqing off of his hip and joining in seamlessly. The song takes on a different quality, rising and falling with more depth as Wei Ying weaves in a harmony, and his heart flutters when he sees Lan Zhan glance up in surprise. He can’t see his expression, but he can hear the way the notes change when he realizes it’s him, imbued with more intention and more emotion. He doesn’t stop playing, even as they pass the natural end of the phrase, and Wei Ying is happy to share this with him.
When Lan Zhan finally lets out one last, tremulous note, Wei Ying smiles and lowers Chenqing. He expects Lan Zhan to get up and join him; he takes it for granted that Lan Zhan always comes when he calls, even when it isn’t through words. Not this time, he realizes, his smile fading the longer Lan Zhan doesn’t move, his gaze fixed down where his hands are still resting on the strings.
Wei Ying’s stomach sinks.
Eventually, Wei Ying goes to Lan Zhan. He stops just beyond the treeline and takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to steel himself, plastering on a smile as he steps out to join him.
“Lan Zhan,” he scolds. “Do you know how long it took me to find you? I got Lan Jingyi into trouble trying to find out where you went. You could have at least left a note.”
Lan Zhan has put the guqin away in the short time it’s taken Wei Ying to reach him, and he’s standing on the shore, his expression blank. But Wei Ying has become as fluent in Lan Zhan’s silences as he has in his words, even when both are written on his face.
“What happened?” Wei Ying asks, even though he really doesn’t want to know the answer.
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything for a long moment, an inarticulate regret hanging in the air between them. “I have been appointed Chief Cultivator,” Lan Zhan says.
All of Wei Ying’s plans fall out from beneath him, the small sliver of an open door that he was relying on now shut. The air in his lungs leaves him in a whoosh and he wonders if there will ever be a time when Lan Zhan doesn’t leave him breathless, for better or for worse.
Lan Zhan doesn’t have to say what that means. They both know. He aches.
“Ah,” Wei Ying says, just to fill the silence. “Well, I guess that should have been expected. The great Hanguang-Jun is of course the obvious choice! Congratulations are in order!” The false levity rings discordant between them, but Wei Ying just can’t seem to stop. “What’s with that expression? Cheer up, Lan Zhan, you look like you’re going to a funeral with those white robes and that look on your face.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, thankfully, mercifully, stopping Wei Ying from saying anything else. His name is soft and sad and he hates it when Lan Zhan says it like that.
The grin that Wei Ying has been so carefully crafting slips. He really hopes he doesn’t look as disappointed as he feels, because despite everything, he is so intensely proud of Lan Zhan. He can do so much good as Chief Cultivator. He will, because that’s just how Lan Zhan is.
“Is there going to be a ceremony?” Wei Ying asks. “I want to be there.”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “Tonight.”
Tonight. And with that, his two weeks are up. The ever present buzz at the back of his mind that wants him to keep moving finally settles, even as the rest of him falls apart.
“You do not have to come,” Lan Zhan says. He must read something on his face and Wei Ying gathers himself as much as he can, shoves all of it away like he usually does, so he doesn’t have to hurt Lan Zhan more than he already has by not reacting like he should.
“I want to,” Wei Ying says again, more insistent. “I am so happy for you, Lan Zhan.”
He smiles at him, and this time it’s bright and genuine because he means that, from the depths of what’s left of his tattered heart.
He can’t bear the way Lan Zhan’s face breaks when he says that, so he grabs his hand and boldly laces his fingers through his, knowing that this might be the only chance he gets, at best for a while, at worst ever again. Wei Ying still doesn’t know exactly where they stand -- will this thing between them change if he’s gone for too long? -- but it doesn’t matter, anyway. Both of them have always been driven by their principles, by what they believe is right, and neither of them will back down in the face of it. It’s what he loves most about Lan Zhan, and he knows that it’s something Lan Zhan loves about him, whatever shape that happens to take. To deny it is to deny themselves, and neither of them would be happy, even if they stayed together. They head back.
Wei Ying will remember the rest of the day as one of the best he’s ever had, in either of his lifetimes. They don’t do anything but enjoy each other’s presence, but they both seem to be trying to communicate things that neither of them are willing to say through everything other than words. They sneak into the Jingshi, to avoid the Lan guards, and Wei Ying delights in the thrill of potentially getting caught, even though he has to keep quiet. Lan Zhan teaches him songs that Wei Ying memorizes with a single-minded focus -- he knows he’ll need these when he’s at his loneliest -- including ones that he collected on his 16 years of wandering the world. One in particular -- a sultry, sensual song that Wei Ying has never heard before and makes him a little hot listening to Lan Zhan play it -- has an accompanying sheet of lyrics that Lan Zhan offers to him, written in his neat calligraphy, which leads to Lan Zhan having to very inelegantly clap his hand over Wei Ying’s mouth when he lets out a shout of pure delight at how dirty it is.
When it gets hot in the afternoon, Wei Ying cools both of them with the rabbit fan while Lan Zhan reads to him, leaning against the wall, half sprawled against Lan Zhan’s chest and his head tucked beneath his chin. Most of what he reads are long, boring documents that are a part of his sect leader duties that need to be addressed before tomorrow, but he also recites some poetry he’s memorized as he traces the palm of Wei Ying’s hand which is laying open on top of his thigh. It’s the most Wei Ying has ever heard him speak, and he feels honored and blessed and hopelessly enamored at the fact that he is probably the only person in the world he has ever done this for. His voice, like everything else about him, is beautiful.
“What is that?” Wei Ying asks him when he finishes a particularly romantic piece. “No way that could be Lan poetry. There wasn’t one mention of prohibiting things.”
“Lan An,” Lan Zhan says, and he can hear the amusement in his voice. “It was the poem I was reading before you swapped out my book.”
Wei Ying can’t help but laugh at the memory, Lan Zhan’s shushing more half-hearted than before. “I still haven’t forgiven you for destroying that book. Nie Huaisang said it wasn’t a big deal, but he never let me borrow anymore ever again. And his collection is, apparently, extremely impressive. Think of what you’ve deprived me of!”
“Shameless,” Lan Zhan says, painfully fond.
When Lan Zhan’s voice begins to grow rough from use, Wei Ying picks up where he leaves off and tells Lan Zhan about his conversation with Jiang Cheng. He keeps it upbeat to keep himself from getting too emotional, and doesn’t mention the part about his body because he doesn’t want to see Lan Zhan’s face twist with grief the way it does whenever he mentions his death. Not here, not now. He complains instead about Jiang Cheng’s inability to just outright invite him to Lotus Pier instead, but Lan Zhan can hear everything he doesn’t say, as usual, and squeezes his wrist.
“I am happy for you,” Lan Zhan says, and he sounds it. Wei Ying, despite the sadness he feels overlaying everything, feels lucky to have him right now. Lan Zhan pauses for a moment and then says, “I wish I had known yesterday.”
“Why?” Wei Ying asks, curious.
“I may have been...curt,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying bolts up and twists to look at Lan Zhan who looks the slightest bit contrite, but mostly unapologetic. “What did you say?”
But Lan Zhan is done talking and no matter how much Wei Ying whines, he won’t budge. It doesn’t matter much, anyway -- he’s sure he’s going to get an earful from Jiang Cheng about it later, and if that isn’t the strangest thought, looking forward to one of Jiang Cheng’s tirades.
They grow quiet, more somber, as afternoon melts into evening. Eventually, Wei Ying has to leave -- Lan Zhan has to get ready for the ceremony, and soon the Jingshi is going to be crawling with disciples to help prepare. Wei Ying slips out with a promise to see him soon, not giving Lan Zhan a chance to say a more proper goodbye -- he’s not ready, not yet -- and walks back to his room with an anxious, nervous energy that he can’t quite dispel.
The ceremony is a reflection of its hosts: quiet, reverent, and beautiful. It’s held in the Lan ancestral hall, which has been decorated with extra care, candles flickering on every wall and some of the Lan’s most precious treasures on prominent display. It’s filled to capacity with what seems like every Lan clan disciple and all the sect leaders, a place set out for everyone but Wei Ying. He spots Jiang Cheng up at the front, who gives him a significant look and moves over to make space between himself and Nie Huaisang, but Wei Ying just smiles and shakes his head as he leans on the back wall. He doesn’t mind not being a part of this; he’s only here for Lan Zhan, anyway, and even though his name has mostly been cleared, there is still resentment in the room and whispers already circulating behind his back. He’ll just serve as a distraction if he gets involved -- better to be in a place to make a swift exit if he needs to.
When Lan Zhan arrives, a hush settles over the room, every eye drawn toward him. He’s wearing robes that Wei Ying has never seen him in, brilliant white with silver and pale blue inlays that seem to ripple in the low light. His hair is styled in a complicated, intricate knot, free of its usual ornamentation. Lan Zhan has always been beautiful, but now he looks simply ethereal, like some sort of god that has taken mortal form. Everyone bows deeply from their seats on the floor, everyone except Wei Ying. He watches Lan Zhan stop and scan the room, almost frantic, until he turns and his gaze falls on Wei Ying. Wei Ying knows the look on his face probably reveals every secret he’s been intending to keep, but he can’t help it, doesn’t care, is too enraptured by the private, relieved smile Lan Zhan is giving him, the softness around his expressive eyes, and the frantic beating of his own heart. He drops to his knees as Lan Zhan watches, Lan Zhan’s lips parting slightly, neither of them breaking eye contact, and circles his arms, bowing to the floor. He thinks he hears Lan Zhan’s breath hitch in the near silent room, but by the time he looks up, Lan Zhan is already at the back of the room next to Lan Qiren. Wei Ying stands up and resumes his lean against the far wall before anyone notices, feeling a little dizzy.
The ceremony itself is relatively short, most of it Lan Qiren reading from an ancient scroll and outlining the responsibilities of the Chief Cultivator, focusing on peace and kindness and all the things that Jin Guangyao and Wen Ruohan were not. Lan Qiren takes the role that Lan Xichen would have filled and fixes a new, even larger and more ornate guan in Lan Zhan’s hair that shines like moonlight. Lan Zhan bows to his uncle, and then to the rest of the room, and just like that, the ceremony is over. The sect leaders all stand and begin giving Lan Zhan their congratulations, going up to him and wishing him good health and their confidence in his ability. Lan Zhan takes it all graciously, though Wei Ying can see the panic in his eyes, much like the time he caught him in Yiling, his crying, not-yet-son attached to his leg. He smiles to himself at the memory, watches Lan Zhan with all the fondness within him, and takes an automatic step forward, his name in his throat.
He stops himself just before he can say it. This is not the same. Lan Zhan’s son is grown and finding a place in a more hopeful world, this is Lan Zhan’s home, and people are calling to him not to berate him but to congratulate him. Wei Ying can’t save him this time, because there is nothing to save him from. Everything is different, everything except for Wei Ying, standing on the outside, watching Lan Zhan with a bare wistfulness he can’t let go of, and wondering how he ever let it get this far.
He slips out the door, and no one notices. He doesn’t go to his room, where he still needs to pack if he’s going to leave tomorrow like he’s planning, but decides to escape down to Caiyi Town to have a few drinks and buy some Emperor’s Smile for his journey. Despite everything, he is looking forward to the road ahead.
He returns to Cloud Recesses well after curfew, but no one is there to stop him, or if they are, no one does. The jade token tucked into his sleeve gets him past the barrier and he makes a mental note to leave in his room before he leaves. It’s a sobering thought, somehow more than anything else has been, and he palms it, letting it leech the warmth out of his fingers.
He goes back to his room and finally does pack his things, tucking his jars of Emperor’s Smile away. He lays down in his bed, trying to enjoy the softness of it since he’s sure he will not have accommodations like this for a while, but he can’t seem to get to sleep despite the exhaustion that clings to his bones. Something about the day seems unfinished, like a sentence that was started and never ended between him and Lan Zhan. He won’t be able to find rest until he sees the end.
Without thinking about it, he gets up. He is silent as he traces his way to the Jingshi, the same path they took earlier so he can enter, unnoticed.
He really shouldn’t be doing this -- Lan Zhan has been asleep for hours with that Lan schedule of his and sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night is maybe one of the stupider ideas he’s had recently. Aside from the punishment he’ll get if he gets caught, if Lan Zhan wakes up and thinks he’s being attacked, that could end very badly for him. He’s left Chenqing and Suibian in his room, and he’s utterly defenseless. It might be the exhaustion clouding his reason, but he’s not worried. Lan Zhan won’t hurt him.
Still, just in case, he taps on the door leading into Jingshi before he opens it, moonlight spilling onto the floor. Everything is dark, but it’s a nearly full moon tonight and it casts a faint glow on everything it touches, light enough for Wei Ying to see Lan Zhan laying on his bed across the room.
“Lan Zhan?” he says, unsure, into the dark. If he doesn’t respond, Wei Ying will leave. This was a stupid idea to begin with, and he’s sobering to that fact faster and faster the longer he’s here. Seeing Lan Zhan is enough to untangle the knot in his chest anyway; anything else can be resolved tomorrow.
There’s no answer, and Wei Ying lets out a soft sigh, turning. And then Lan Zhan moves, sitting up in the dark. He can see his eyes now, bright and without a trace of sleep in them, and he wonders if he’s not the only one who has been kept up by his thoughts.
Wei Ying is driven forward, closing the doors clumsily behind him, trying not to slam them shut. He kicks off his shoes and before he can tell himself not to, he is crossing the room, the crushing weight of not being able to see Lan Zhan every day or speak with him, or wake to his soft morning routines in shared inn rooms and stay up late discussing theories over tea and alcohol overwhelming him. He doesn’t pause at the edge of the bed because he doesn’t have to -- under the cover of night, and in the quiet of the Jingshi he no longer has to pretend that this thing between them isn’t something more.
He slides into Lan Zhan’s bed as if he belongs there and Lan Zhan moves to accommodate him. He lays on his side facing Lan Zhan who is watching him with those eyes, those expressive, perfect eyes, that he never wants to stray away ever again.
“You left,” Lan Zhan says, voice quiet and sounding painfully young. It’s not accusatory, only sad and heavy with old scars.
“I did,” Wei Ying says. He wants Lan Zhan to know how sorry he is, but for this and all the other times, but he knows it isn’t what he wants to hear. No need for ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ between them, after all. “But I came back.”
Lan Zhan moves, even closer, the smell of sandalwood and freshly cleaned sheets. He can feel his breath on his face and Wei Ying forces himself to stay still.
“You’re leaving,” Lan Zhan says, and it isn’t a question. Isn’t really all that different than what he just said, and maybe it will always be like this, both of them constantly missing each other, unable to bridge the gap between them. Wei Ying can’t bring himself to confirm it outloud.
Instead, he brings his hand up to Lan Zhan’s face, tracing the planes of his cheeks, the line of his jaw, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip. He’s close enough to see the moment the gold in Lan Zhan’s eyes turn molten, raw and unguarded, and desperately, helplessly, Wei Ying moves his body closer and kisses him.
At another time, in a different circumstance, he can imagine their first kiss being like the crashing of a wave to shore, or the shattering of lightning when it finally hits ground. Instead, it’s soft, slow, and a little bit sad. He expects it to be short, just enough to convey the things he can’t say now that they’re here and their paths have diverged so he can leave with no regrets, but Lan Zhan pours himself into it the way he does with everything, his hands finding Wei Ying’s waist and pulling him closer, a little bit desperate and infinitely gentle. Wei Ying realizes, with sudden clarity, how stupid he’s been for thinking this was ever one-sided, now that he can feel the frantic beating of Lan Zhan’s heart beneath his hand as he curls it into the front of Lan Zhan’s robes, and feel the warmth of his bittersweet tears as they slide onto Wei Ying’s cheeks.
Come with me, he nearly says, because their relationship has always been made of things said too late and foregone conclusions, and Wei Ying has come to rely on it, a familiar ache. But it doesn’t have to be like that. Wei Ying is selfish, but it doesn’t have to be the bad kind of selfish that leaves Lan Zhan saying his name in broken syllables in the dark, but the good kind, the kind that asks for something that Lan Zhan can give him, to know that he wants him even in the face of things they can’t change about themselves.
“See me off tomorrow?” Wei Ying murmurs against his lips, his thumbs brushing the tears away from Lan Zhan’s eyes, capturing him in another long, slow kiss. He knows it’s a difficult request; it’s Lan Zhan’s first day as Chief Cultivator, every clan sect leader will still be in Cloud Recesses clamoring for his attention, and he intends to steal him away. But Lan Zhan doesn’t even pause, presses closer until there is no distance left between them, opens his mouth to Wei Ying’s own until they are both breathless.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, his eyes still glistening from his tears but so full of love it makes Wei Ying’s eyes sting. “Yes.”
He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t need to, and just kisses Lan Zhan again, memorizing the taste of him, the shape of his lips, and the warmth of his body beneath his hands, and promises without words that he’ll come back, this time and every time after.
It’s clear, by the time they both wake together in the soft morning light, that this isn’t the goodbye that either of them feared.