Work Text:
Cleaning day happens rarely.
Partly because Chu Wanning can’t be bothered with it most of the time, more or less alright with things strewn around everywhere so long as he knows where he placed them, and partly because Mo Ran keeps the place clean enough for the both of them. Unless Chu Wanning had expressly forbidden the man from moving anything, the robes Chu Wanning leaves on the floors and the books he forgets to put away when he’s done reading them will all more or less find their way to their rightful place before the moon rises.
It’s only on a day where neither of them are too busy and Mo Ran has misplaced an object one too many times that he insists on making a whole day out of cleaning their home from top to bottom.
Chu Wanning glances at the papers strewn over his desk, before haphazardly piling them up. It’ll just get messy again when Chu Wanning goes to sit down to work, so what was the point in organizing it? The half-made mechanics he’s been working on get lumped together in a big pile underneath the desk, as does the box with all of his tools.
On the other end of the room from where Chu Wanning is standing, Mo Ran has started reorganizing their bookshelf, mumbling the titles to himself before putting them in one of the several piles he created. Chu Wanning’s heart grows soft at the sight.
He hadn’t realized it could feel like that when completing household chores. It doesn’t matter to him, if the house doesn’t look spotless when they’re done.
He knows it doesn’t matter to Mo Ran either.
The act of doing this together is enough.
They share few words while cleaning, at least until Chu Wanning finds a particularly stubborn ink stain near his work table, and picks up a wet cloth to start rubbing at it.
Only then, Mo Ran clears his throat. “Wanning?”
Chu Wanning hums without looking up from the unwavering stain. “What is it?”
“You still have this?”
Chu Wanning turns his head. Crouched on the floor by the mess that the small bookshelf had become is Mo Ran, holding a suspiciously thick book. Chu Wanning recognizes it instantly. How could he forget the book Mo Ran wrote for him?
“Did you want me to throw it away?” He asks snappishly.
Mo Ran’s voice is fond when he speaks. “Not at all.” He sighs, flipping through some of the pages carelessly. “I remember writing this. Every day, for five years. Aah, brings up memories. It’s a little silly, isn’t it. Shizun must have been bored reading some of these.”
“I wasn’t.”
Mo Ran falls backward a bit, properly sitting on the floor now. “Shizun was in my heart everyday for those five years.”
Chu Wanning fights back his blush as hard as he can, and feels the tip of his ears growing hot regardless.
“You know, I didn’t see this when we first brought things over from Mengmeng.”
Chu Wanning turns away from him. “Xue Meng kept it for me.”
Mo Ran smiles. “And when did you have the time to take it back from him?”
Chu Wanning doesn’t dignify that with a response.
He hears a rustling of paper, Mo Ran’s footsteps coming closer to him, and then two arms are wrapping around his waist from behind. Mo Ran rests his chin on Chu Wanning’s shoulder. Chu Wanning tilts his head to make more room and finds himself leaning back into the hold.
“Wanning, I love you so much,” Mo Ran mutters into his neck.
Chu Wanning squirms. After so many years, he’s still so sensitive. He’d be more upset about it if he didn’t know how much Mo Ran liked it. “Don’t speak nonsense.”
“Is it nonsense to tell my husband I love him?”
Chu Wanning huffs. “Yes.”
Mo Ran laughs. “Alright, I won’t speak of it anymore. So long as my husband keeps this information safe in his heart, and doesn’t forget it.”
Chu Wanning mumbles, quiet enough that he’s sure Mo Ran didn’t hear it, “...I won’t.”
They stay like that, longer than what anyone would consider normal. Neither of them care. They don’t speak either, and just revel in the existence of each other. It’s taken two lifetimes for them to get this, Chu Wanning thinks maybe a little petulantly. They deserve this.
“Let’s take a break for lunch, Wanning. I’ll cook.”
“You always cook,” Chu Wanning says.
“I do,” Mo Ran agrees without complaint. “I like feeding Shizun everything he wants. But if he is so averse to it, why don’t we cook together?”
Chu Wanning rolls his eyes. Despite himself, he feels the smallest bit of happiness bloom in his chest. “Fine.”
-
Chu Wanning is used to falling asleep after Mo Ran.
Even when they do get into bed at the same time, and Chu Wanning doesn’t insist on spending an extra hour working on his tools while Mo Ran settles into bed for the night, Chu Wanning is accustomed to lying awake, head on Mo Ran’s chest and listening to his heartbeat until his eyes physically can’t stay open anymore.
It was a habit that had begun at the start of their lives, and Chu Wanning now found it troublesome to even try and get some rest without the assurance that Mo Ran was breathing under him.
He isn’t sure what it is now that makes him pull out of bed, carefully pulling out of Mo Ran’s grip. Maybe it’s being reminded of the book’s presence again, but Chu Wanning finds it back on the shelf where Mo Ran had put it, after making sure one more time that Chu Wanning was sure wanted to keep it. Chu Wanning was quite sure. He doesn’t tell this to Mo Ran’s face, but he’s sure the anger in his expression was enough to get the message across.
Chu Wanning hadn’t gotten a close look at it while Mo Ran was holding it earlier that day, but now that he can see it clearly, it’s even older-looking than it was when Chu Wanning had first read through it.
The older pages had already started yellowing all those years ago, but it’s even more so now. The paper feels thinner, like one touch too harsh and it’ll tear. The words however, are still easy to read, strong against the test of time, just like the person that wrote them.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been by the time he finishes reading through half of the letters, but when he finally puts the book down onto his lap, his eyes have gotten misty without him noticing.
Chu Wanning feels drunk. He isn’t, of course. He hasn’t had a sip of alcohol all day. But he feels like he is right now, in the silence that comes with the moon and night sky, Mo Ran safe and asleep in bed, and the two of them living out the rest of their lives together. Everything feels hazy and surreal.
Too many things have happened since then that Chu Wanning doesn’t remember how exactly he felt on the day he woke up and saw the children he raised become adults in what felt like the blink of an eye, but he thinks he might have felt a little like this. Overwhelming.
Drunk on it.
What that it is, he isn’t sure. Love or happiness, either or both. When he thinks about Mo Ran, he can’t tell the difference.
He wasn’t there to watch Mo Ran grow up, from the child that he taught to write his first words, then the unruly teenager that purposefully defied his Shizun and chased after his shixiong, to the man that he is now — still the same in so many ways, but completely different. But he still is able to watch it in a smaller way, no less insignificant, when he reads about everything Mo Ran has gone through in that time.
Chu Wanning knows there must have been so much Mo Ran left out.
He might have missed it the first time, drowning in the feeling of Mo Ran having written to him at all, but not now.
Mo Ran had written about every day happily, talking about something new that he had learned, an interesting story he had heard from the local shop owner, or a new food he had tried and whether or not he liked it.
Is Chu Wanning really supposed to accept that in five years, Mo Ran didn’t have a single day of hardship?
Chu Wanning is more than aware that the world is not fair.
“You didn’t write everything,” he says softly to no-one. “Do you take your teacher for an idiot?”
“Of course I don’t.”
Chu Wanning jumps. He spins around, and sees Mo Ran leaning against the doorway, body heavy with sleep. His outer robes look like they were hastily put on. The tears Chu Wanning’s been holding back manage to slip out at the movement. He hastily wipes them away.
“Wanning,” Mo Ran complains. “You’re up too early. Or up really late? I don’t even know what time it is. Did you even get any sleep?”
He walks over and takes a seat next to him. He gestures to the book, still clenched in Chu Wanning’s grip. “You’re reading it again?”
“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”
“Mm, if that’s so, then could you answer why you’re reading it again?”
“Can’t I?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mo Ran says, shifting closer so that he can put an arm around Chu Wanning’s waist, and his head on Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “I’m surprised though, I really don’t think I wrote anything too interesting.”
“You think the sticky cake you spit out after one bite after eating wasn’t interesting?”
Mo Ran’s answering laugh is just as soft as the atmosphere around them. He lifts his head to press a kiss to Chu Wanning’s cheek. “I don’t even remember what nonsense I wrote in these letters. I never read through them after they were written. I just remember thinking that, I want Shizun to know about what happens during these five years.”
“You left things out,” Chu Wanning accuses.
“Did I?”
“Mo Ran.”
Mo Ran smiles, a small one but his dimple coming out regardless. “I did.”
“Then tell me now,” Chu Wanning says simply.
“That would be the conclusion that makes sense, wouldn’t it?”
“What do you think?”
Mo Ran’s smile gets wider. He gestures for Chu Wanning to hand the book over. Once he has it, he flips it open to a random page. The entry he goes to describes a day with a shopkeeper who insisted on making conversation with him no matter how much Mo Ran tried to leave.
“Did you know the reason why the storekeeper kept telling me all these stories?” Mo Ran pauses for a moment. Dramatic storytelling, he had once explained when Chu Wanning snapped at him to finish a goodnight story he insisted on telling.
“You’re not even good at telling stories,” Chu Wanning had answered bluntly, memories of a warm-hearted disciple telling his little shidi a bedtime story coming to him unbidden.
In the present time, Chu Wanning just waits for Mo Ran to continue.
“I kept bringing in customers because of how handsome I was, so he kept thinking of things to say to keep me from leaving.”
Chu Wanning rolls his eyes. “Shameless.”
“Very shameless,” Mo Ran agrees. He turns to another one. “I got an injury somewhere around this time. I hurt my leg. It wasn’t anything serious, so I just let it heal naturally.”
Chu Wanning glares at the words on the page, like they were the one to cause it. “Don’t do that again.”
“I promise it wasn’t threatening. It only hurt a little, mainly if I put too much weight on it when I walked. But now I have Shizun to heal me from anything, don’t I?”
Chu Wanning feels his ears heat up. “That wasn’t in question,” he manages to say, pushing back the embarrassment.
Mo Ran tells him several more stories, things that he didn’t want to tell him in the letters for fear of making Chu Wanning feel anything other than content or happiness. Of a person that yelled at him after he accidentally stepped on their child’s straw toy without noticing, and then of a nightmare he had had of being attacked by a giant tangyuan.
“You didn’t come back,” Chu Wanning comments. All of Mo Ran’s stories tell him of some place Mo Ran had stayed at, whether that be for one night or for weeks on end, but not once does he talk about going back to Sisheng Peak.
Chu Wanning had known as much, when he read through the book of letters the first time. But it’s different now, hearing Mo Ran tell him of tales far away, all without the relaxed lilt of his voice that came with speaking about the place he grew up.
Mo Ran sighs deeply. “Shizun is right, of course. I didn’t go back too often. I still had so much to do so I could show Shizun I was different than the brat I used to be. I wanted to be good enough to see him again.” He pauses to lean more of his weight onto Chu Wanning. “I missed Shizun so much. Every day I would wake up, and wonder if today was the day he would wake up. But I wasn’t ready to see him again.”
Chu Wanning feels a flash of pain at the thought of Mo Ran being upset, even if the hurt has long since faded away. He tries to shift closer to Mo Ran without him noticing. From the way Mo Ran pulls him even closer, he isn’t successful.
“Shizun, can I share something embarrassing?” Mo Ran asks, and when Chu Wanning turns to look at him, Mo Ran’s cheeks are darkened.
“Tell me,” Chu Wanning says, and hopes his voice doesn’t betray any of the curiosity he’s feeling.
“I was scared, a little.”
“Of returning home?”
“Of being in the same place as Shizun was resting,” Mo Ran clarifies. “If Shizun was awake, what words would he have for me? Would he think I was all grown up now? Would he be able to tell that I had spent all this time trying to live by his teachings? Would he look at me and feel proud? These were the kind of things I thought. I was scared that the answer to them would be no.”
Chu Wanning takes a moment to digest. If anything, it was always him who was lacking. “Mo Ran is always good enough.” He winces internally at the stilted delivery of the words. It doesn’t feel like enough, not after how much Mo Ran is baring his heart to him.
Chu Wanning doesn’t deserve Mo Ran, this pure-hearted man in front of him, but Mo Ran loves him despite of himself, and Chu Wanning won’t deny himself of Mo Ran’s heart and unwavering love for the rest of his life.
“Good enough for Shizun? I’ll never come close.”
Chu Wanning huffs. “Be quiet.”
“But doesn’t Chu Wanning want me to keep talking?” Mo Ran teases. “I thought that was the idea.”
Chu Wanning frowns. It’s been long enough that he can recognize now when Mo Ran is actually trying to rile him up good-naturedly, and when he was deflecting. “You’re diverting the subject.”
Mo Ran slumps. “Wanning is too smart. He read me that easily.”
Chu Wanning struggles to find the words. “If you are troubled by something else, you have to tell your Shizun about it.”
Mo Ran doesn’t speak for a beat. “These... These are very old stories, baobei. They don’t hurt me anymore. How can I be when the love of my life is right here beside me?” He breaks off to chuckle softly. “And besides, I’ve been through far worse. I feel childish even thinking about the things that upset me then.”
Chu Wanning looks at him. “I’d still want to know.”
Mo Ran stares off into the forested area in front of them. It’s hard to see very far where the number of trees get thicker and more in number, even with the moon illuminating the path. “I said I missed Wanning while he was asleep for five years. It doesn’t even come close to the truth.”
Chu Wanning reaches over and places his hands on Mo Ran’s where it is resting on the book still.
“It was... much more than that. Sometimes it was really so hard to go about my day and not think of Shizun and wonder what he would do if he was here next to me. It was extremely difficult sometimes, to not think about Shizun and how much I hurt and disrespected him. I wanted nothing more than to properly apologize to you and prove myself. I missed you so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was rare, but sometimes I wrote my letters at the end of the day, sometimes I would start crying in the middle of it.”
Chu Wanning inhales sharply. Mo Ran speaks of it like a fact, as something that just happened, but he knows his disciple’s heart is easily hurt. Mo Ran is good at hiding his hurts, just as he is, but they are easy to read when you know what to look for. Those days, alone with no one to turn to for comfort but a stack of paper and ink... Well. Chu Wanning is all too familiar with that kind of bone-aching loneliness. Mo Ran cuddles him in comfort before he continues.
“Five years without the man that had taken care of me when I was at my worst was hard. On my hardest days, I would just hold the letters to my chest and cry on it, and hope that my wish for Shizun to be happy always would reach him. Many tears would land on the page and smudge the writing.”
Mo Ran exhales.
“Shizun knows I didn’t want to show him any sadness in these letters. So even if Shizun might not have realized it, or would have assumed it was rainfall, I didn’t want to risk it. So if a tear landed on the page, I would tear it out and start writing again. On some days, it took so many tries that I would start to imagine Shizun appearing and yelling at me about wasting materials.”
When Mo Ran laughs this time, it’s a wet sound. “Maybe the wait was worth it,” he concludes. “After all, this is the life that came of it. I can’t say I’m unhappy with how things turned out. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chu Wanning nods slowly. “En. I kept you waiting.”
Mo Ran hums softly. He rests the book of letters gently on his lap, and uses both of his hands to take Chu Wanning’s face in them. “I guess this leaves me no choice,” he says seriously, “but to kiss Wanning enough times to make up for every day in those five years that I was missing out on it.” He leans in to do just that. Once, twice. Small things, barely lasting a full minute and completely chaste.
“Stop talking nonsense,” Chu Wanning hisses out, pulling back.
“What nonsense?” Mo Ran asks with feigned innocence.
If it was daytime, Chu Wanning might have gotten up in a fit and walked away to do work or go to the nearest town with Goutou. Here, he pulls away from Mo Ran’s grip completely and turns to another page in the book and points. “Be quiet. Tell me about this day.”
Mo Ran raises an eyebrow, amused. “Of course, Wanning. Let’s see... Oh! This day was quite nice...”
Chu Wanning falls asleep at some point, because he wakes up in Mo Ran’s arms as the man is carrying him back into their home. Mo Ran must feel him tense up, because he is suddenly looking down at him. He briefly tightens his hold on Chu Wanning. “Wanning must have been tired, huh? Let’s go to sleep now,” Mo Ran says. “And tomorrow, we can make new memories together.”
“Okay,” Chu Wanning says, sleepy enough to go along with whatever Mo Ran says now. “Tomorrow.”