Archive of Our Own

Prologue

“How are you feeling?” Jiang Cheng asks Wei Wuxian, who’s kneeling down in the sand near the pavilion entrance of the Lanshi. It’s also where every single disciple now attending Lan Qiren’s lectures at the Cloud Recesses can see Wei Wuxian’s punishment.

For punching Jin Zixuan in his pretty face.

“Just because that peacock is in Lanlingjin, they let him go unpunished,” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes—a feat that he’s learnt from Jiang Cheng, his shidi. “Is it because us Yilingwei are smaller than the Lanlingjin? Ugh.” He rolls his eyes yet again.

“I punched him too but you didn’t have to completely take the fall for it, Wei Wuxian.”

“Eh, no need for the both of us to be kneeling down here,” Wei Wuxian replies, smiling.

That’s how Wei Wuxian is. Always putting others first before him, especially those he loves and cares deeply for.

“Then again, I’m used to kneeling down anyway!” Wei Wuxian adds, keeling over in laughter.

“I can’t believe you can still laugh while being punished,” Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“Might as well have fun while I’m at it, right?”

The man clad in purple sighs, “Right. I better go make sure A-Jie is okay. We… did punch her fiancé in his face after all.”

“His beautiful face,” both the Jiang and Wei say in cohesion and laugh in cohesion too.

“Yeah, go. I just need to be here for another one and a half shichen. I’ll see you guys later,” Wei Wuxian waves his hand dismissively.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“A-Cheng, never doubt your shixiong,” he winks and Jiang Cheng takes his leave, knowing that that’s enough reassurance.

Time to find something to do now to pass some time…, the still-kneeling guest disciple of Gusulan taps his nose in thought.

And then there it is, Wei Wuxian sees a stick not far from where he’s knelt. Turning his head left and right to see if anyone’s around and to find he’s completely alone, for now, he scoots forward on his knees and grabs the stick, and then quickly scoots back, giggling.

Who would find it fun to dig the dirt?

Wei Wuxian would.

And his mother, too.

A shichen passes, Cangse Sanren arrives in black and red Yilingwei garb, but her presence is far from being a shadow. Her eyes are bright and wide, like her son’s. And in her wake is Wen Qing, who also dons a Yilingwei ensemble.

“A-Niang!” Wei Wuxian yelps, standing up from his task at the ant hole and bowing to his mother. “What are you and Wen Qing doing here?”

“We’ve come to take you home, A-Ying,” his mother says. Her words are stern, but she gives him a conspiratorial look. “It seems like you’ve been a bother to Lan Qiren.”

He scratches his head, sheepish. “Sorry, A-Niang.”

“Wen Qing, stay here with A-Ying and make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

“Oh, come on, A-Niang. You know me!” Wei Wuxian complains, still kneeling down.

“Yes, that’s the thing—I do. I will talk to the man himself,” she says, straightening her robes and leaving the two youths as she marches towards the Lanshi.

“Madam Wei,” Lan Qiren greets in acknowledgement as she enters the Lanshi and takes her seat in front of him. He sits looking disgruntled, even more so when he sees Cangse Sanren. He instinctively strokes his goatee protectively, a faint memory coming back to him.

“Master Lan.”

“Your son,” he begins in a tone that Cangse Sanren has grown to know during their younger years, and that is a tone that has never worked on her, “has broken more rules than number of days he’s stayed here.”

“They’re young, and I am sure Jin-gongzi is much at fault as A-Ying is. Not anyone is as restrained as your Gusulan disciples,” she says, also in a tone that Lan Qiren has grown to know.

“Restrai—”

“Anyway, I understand and will take A-Ying home,” she gets up on her feet, while maintaining her poise and posture. “This is why you’re starting to have wrinkles, Lan Qiren. Also, try getting rid of that beard,” she chuckles.

“You—!”

“Goodbye!” she waves her hand as she exits the Lanshi.

That old fuddy-duddy seems to not have changed at all, Cangse Sanren thinks to herself, amused at a memory not long ago of shaving old Lan’s beard off. She wonders if her son ever thought of that—or has he already done it? A smile graces her face at the thought.

Like A-Niang, like A-Ying.

“Lan Zhan! Visit Yiling, okay? I’ll be your tour guide and show you around, free of charge!” Wei Wuxian beams beside the second young master Lan. “There are lots of pretty guniangs in Yiling! Right, Wen Qing?”

Wen Qing shrugs and doesn’t answer.

“You’re so boring, Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian sticks out his tongue. “Let’s ignore her, Lan Zhan. What do you say to visiting Yiling?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says, and walks onward.

“Then what about Yunmeng? I’m also familiar with Yunmeng! There are as many beautiful guniangs there, too!”

She clicks her tongue. A-Ying… Cangse Sanren can’t help but smile.

“Cangse Qianbei,” Lan Wangji bows as Cangse Sanren approaches the youngsters.

“Good to see you again, Wangji. I see my son is enjoying his stay here in Gusu. We’d love to stay at the Cloud Recesses longer but we have to make our way home,” she informs, anticipating a change in Lan Wangji’s reaction to the truth that she knows and speaks of.

“So soon, A-Niang?” Wei Wuxian chimes in.

His mother nods. “Your A-Die is waiting for us at home and so are the Jiangs. Your punishment awaits at home, too,” she warns teasingly.

“Aiyooo!”

“Take care, Wangji,” she says, turning back and giving the young student a kind smile.

“Safe travels, Cangse-qianbei,” Lan Wangji clasps his hands in front of him and bows respectfully. The female elder nods in acknowledgement and walks forward, with her son and Wen Qing in tow.

“See you again, Lan Zhan! Let me know if you’ll visit Yiling! Remember we have lots of beautiful guniangs!” Wei Wuxian laughs cheekily and waves as he joins his mother and falls into step. “Wen Qing, race you to the entrance!”

“Hey, Wei Wuxian. No running in the Cloud Recesses!” she responds, but despite herself, starts speeding up.

“Well, we’re running out of it, aren’t we?”

“Behave, you two!” Cangse Sanren calls after them, surely also breaking one of Gusulan’s rules—something familiar.

Before she goes farther, she stops in her tracks to turn to the young master Lan one more time. “Wangji, no need to be so formal. You can call me A-Yi next time.”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond but just smiles reassuringly, and joins Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing.

“A-Niang, what did you say to Lan Zhan?”

“Oh, nothing!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like nothing,” Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows and taps his chin.

“Well, what do you think Lan Er-gongzi would’ve said?”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t reply right away and after a few moments, “You’re right, A-Niang. He probably said nothing hahahaha.”

Well, he’s half right.

If only he’d seen Lan Wangji’s reaction to his A-Niang’s words.

Chapter 1

Wei Wuxian stretches before the Hunt begins. Now twenty years of age, he is still full of the same youthful and audacious energy as before. He glances over at Lan Wangji mid-stretch, who still is tall and elegant, albeit with more chiseled features now: a well-sculpted jawline, and long raven hair.

Lan Wangji, who still hasn’t visited Yiling or Yunmeng.

Wei Wuxian is about to say as much, but then Jiang Yanli arrives.

“A-Xian,” she greets him, an unsheathed Ningjing at her side.

“Shijie, you’re here,” he says, smiling wide.

Indeed, Jiang Yanli said she would hunt for herself. Even though Madame Jin had extended to her an invitation to accompany Jin Zixuan on the excursion, Jiang Yanli was perfectly happy to carry her own sword and hunt her own spirits.

Her brother knows better than to convince her to team up with him, too. He is too busy competing against Wei Wuxian and the Wei Sect to care about the details.

“I’m going to catch more ghosts than you, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng banters.

Wei Wuxian, who is like a brother to the Jiang siblings, rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Talk now, because in a few minutes, your mouth will be full of the dust from my fast boots.”

“You wish. You know I’m fast,” Jiang Cheng retorts.

Jiang Yanli smiles to herself as she hears this. Before they part ways into the forest, she turns to her brother and says, “We can combine our numbers after the hunt is over, but I want to go hunting that way.” She points eastward.

He nods, knowing that his sister has grown into quite the skilled cultivator herself. During the Gusu lecture series, she was quiet but she absorbed so much more information and studied harder, he admits, than he ever had.

She looks to the side, feeling eyes on her. It is Jin Zixuan. He averts them at once, clearing his throat and adjusting the hilt of his sword at his side.

Jiang Yanli has always been astute. She marches on, feeling Jin Zixuan’s presence through the trees. The others have scattered far.

Each of her steps through the brambles is matched with echoed steps a few meters to her right. She stops, hearing a buzzing sound. A shadow rests on a nearby tree and she flies up, lashing it away with her sword in one fell swoop. It screeches until it disappears into the air.

She descends with a satisfied grin. As her feet land firmly on the ground, she hears a scurrying a few feet away. Turning her head in that direction, she says, “Jin-gongzi. I know you’re there.”

There is a pause, and then she sees golden robes come out from behind a tree. He looks sheepish, two of his hands behind his back. “Jiang-guniang.”

They bow to each other, their eyes appraising.

“What are you doing, following me?” she asks. This is bolder than she used to be, but she has noticed his tiptoeing about her for quite some time at these conferences and they are alone now.

His face is open, honest, and, she confesses to herself, handsome. “I…wanted to protect you.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “Thank you, but I need no such protection.”

“I…” he glanced up at the tree where she has just quelled a spirit. “I can see that.”

They linger there for a while, until she says, “You may walk with me, Jin-gongzi, but know that I won’t go easy on you.”

“Nor I you,” he rejoins.

She cannot help but smile to herself at this parry.

They walk deeper into the forest, and she can hear the whizzing of arrows from afar, the sound of a guqin in another spot. She imagines them to be Lan Wangji and A-Xian.

A shadow swims over them. She unsheathes Ningjing immediately. This spirit is a watcher: it circles them like a predator.

She is back to back with Jin Zixuan, both of them in battle stance, ready to fight. The shadow seems to purr, a deep guttural sound in its throat. It bares teeth, and lunges at Jiang Yanli. She lets out a cry and swings her sword deftly where its neck would be. It yelps. It retreats, and then lunges forward again. This time, Jin Zixuan jumps forward at the same time Jiang Yanli does, and they both ricochet off each other.

She regains her balance and spins around, gathering momentum before lunging at the creature again, Ningjing straight and true.

The shadow screeches and like the other, melts into the air.

She whips around, her sword pointed at Jin Zixuan’s chest. They are both breathing heavily. Their eyes meet each other, intense, a thousand emotions flashing through and between them at once.

At last, she lowers and sheathes her sword, smiling. “Jin-gongzi, you got in my way.”

“I said I wouldn’t go easy,” he says. She notices how soft and gentle his voice is, like a rivulet.

“Good,” she says.

They walk on together. In silence, they realize that they now walk much closer, their strides matching.

On the westside of the hills, Luo Qingyang hurdles through the trees, chasing a spirit with her sword. It is way ahead of her, and she grunts, exasperated, picking up speed.

Suddenly, there is the sound of a flute.

“No!” she yelps instinctively.

The spirit dissipates into the air with a shriek.

Out from the foliage steps Wei Wuxian, spinning his flute in his hand. “Ah, Mianmian!”

She is flustered, annoyed, and excited all at once. She bows in greeting and he returns the gesture. “Wei Wuxian, we all thought you were a goner.”

He chuckles darkly. “No, still here!” he flails his arms.

She looks down at the flute in his hand, at his swordless belt. She doesn’t dare ask the question. “I’ll give you this one spirit.”

He stands akimbo and winks, “You don’t think I’ve already won?”

She crosses her arms in feigned petulance. “Consider it recompense for saving me in Xuanwu Cave.”

He chuckles at the memory and she smiles too. That seems so long ago, now. He has changed: his hair is longer, there are bags under his eyes, but his eyes and smile are still as bright as ever.

Her eyes sweep to the edge of the trees where she sees a flash of white. “I think we have a friend.”

Wei Wuxian turns around and shouts, “Ah, it’s Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji watches them with eyes like stones for a moment, and with a brush of his long sleeve, he leaves.

“Eh, that man is so strange and unpredictable,” Wei Wuxian says, in a joking tone but the end of his sentence lands sadly, soberly.

“You’re saying that?” Mianmian retorts. “People think that of you. People think Lan Wangji is incredibly consistent—I do too.”

“Not in my experience,” Wei Wuxian says, pursing his lips in thought. Mianmian often wonders about what transpired in those few days that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were stuck together in the cave.

She is sure he’s right; he does know Lan Wangji better.

Chapter 2

But Lan Wangji doesn’t know that. All he knows is that now, back in Gusu, he is sitting across from his brother, and they have received a wedding invitation.

“Who, Xiong-zhang?” For some reason, his heart pounds against his ribcage. This never happens to him. It’s a terrifying thing, to feel so strongly about something—someone. Lan Wangji has always liked and preferred things to be in control. He has always liked things to be certain. But whenever it comes to a certain someone, he really can’t be sure anymore.

“A marriage between Yunmeng and the Jin sects. A union,” Lan Xichen answers, his words warbled in Lan Wangji’s ears, struggling to hear anything but the palpitations of his heart.

He manages a nod. Luo Qingyang’s golden robes flash through his mind. The scene from the hunt arises like a vengeful phoenix. Luo Qingyang and Wei Wuxian, but an arm’s length apart, murmuring to each other and joking with one another, laughing heartily like no one else is in the world.

Lan Wangji has never been a jokester. Wei Wuxian is probably always bored around him. It makes sense that Luo Qingyang and Wei Wuxian would be matched in marriage by the experts. It makes sense that this alliance… this union should happen. Both were headstrong. Both liked each other’s company. Both were good fighters. They probably are meant to be together.

Lan Wangji’s calligraphy brush goes limp in his hand. He rises, bows to his brother, and leaves the Library Pavilion.

He glances at a rooftop, one of the only places he has ever really seen Wei Wuxian alone for a measurable amount of time—besides the Xuanwu Cave for the discussion conference. Back then, during their lecture days, Wei Wuxian was always surrounded by noise, by life, by other people.

He, on the other hand, was a lone leaf in the wind, bearing witness to the joy that he could not take part in. He didn’t know how to, and still doesn’t.

Mianmian and Wei Wuxian had a particular connection, even in lecture days. Wei Wuxian would throw a joke into the air and Mianmian would catch it, with a stern response, but the look in her eyes was one of camaraderie.

Wei Wuxian. Such a loud person. His laugh was loud, even then, for such a young person. His footsteps were loud. His chewing was loud.

His mouth...was ripe like fruit.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, begging these thoughts to leave.

He cannot think of a betrothed man this way. No, he must not, and shall not. A marriage with the Jin sect would help the people of Yunmeng and Yiling immensely. It truly would be an ingenious alliance: money, fighting power, and resources.

And love.

Lan Wangji walks towards the Cold Springs, his steps faster than before.

Chapter 3

As they near the grand staircase that leads them to the even grander entrance of Jinlin tai, Lan Xichen glances at his younger brother.

“Wangji, are you sure you want to come?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes are downcast, but he nods.

Zewu-jun doesn’t quite know why Wangji has been down in the past few weeks. It is possible he has gotten lonely, as there hasn’t been a conference in a couple of months. But he suspects that seeing Wei Wuxian might cheer him up.

Much to his surprise, it doesn’t.

Glamour Hall fills with guests from different sects, major and smaller sects. The golden and white marbled walls and ceilings wrap around the colourful wash of sect colours. The room is filled with a sea of various colours. Direct disciples from Yunmengjiang in purple with their silver bells on their belts and disciples from Yilingwei in their black and red ensembles. The majority being the vermillion-marked members of the Lanlingjin with white peony embroidered uniforms and sabre-carrying fighters from the Qinghenie Sect in dark gray uniforms. Amongst the sea of colour, the blue and white of the Gusulan, with direct disciples from the Lan bloodline donning their forehead ribbons with the cloud motif sewn on, and other disciples seen with their white forehead ribbons. Guests from the Meishanyu, the Balingouyang and the Yao Sects also grace Jinlin Tai.

The older lan notices his younger brother holding his breath, stiffened, as the Jiangs’ subset, the Yilingwei, files in, led by Wei Wuxian’s parents, Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren.

Behind them is Wei Wuxian, also clad in black and red. He waves to Lan Wangji when he sees him, and Lan Wangji looks equal parts angry and shocked.

Why isn’t Wei Ying in the traditional groom’s outfit? Why is he clad in black instead of red and gold?

He glances up again at the Jin clan gathering at the front of the hall, and sure enough, sees Luo Qingyang there—not in red, but in her usual gold garb.

Is this not the wedding for Wei Ying and Luo Qingyang? Is this not the wedding that will unite Yunmeng and Lanling?

Lan Wangji’s head swims with these thoughts as the processional begins. The bride and groom are ushered in with pomp and circumstance, drums and horns blaring, confetti and rice thrown in the air.

“Don’t Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan make a good couple?” one of the Nie disciples whispers to another.

Lan Wangji’s face is drained of blood. He feels like a fierce corpse. This is not the wedding he had in mind.

His amber eyes move slowly over to Wei Wuxian, who sits with one knee up at his chest while he drinks wine. He notices Lan Wangji staring, and puts his cup down, baring the biggest smile, and waves with his entire arm.

When the ceremony is done, and dancers perform while guests mingle, Lan Wangji feels vulnerable as his brother moves towards the Jin sect leaders to congratulate them. Alone, he takes a deep breath and lifts a cup of tea to his lips.

The crowd falls silent as drums are pounded to a beat, signaling the start of the performance. Nine graceful women glide into the center of the crowd, covered in beautiful, flowing garments embroidered with brilliant gold and shimmering white crystals and embellishments. They freeze in synchronisation as they reach the center mark. As the trill of a flute begins, the nine beauties burst into a flurry of motion and sequence. Their lithe bodies flow in such hypnotising patterns, causing the crowd to stare in awe. The gold embroidery and white embellishments catch the fire light around them, rivaling the twinkling in the stars in the sky above Jinlin Tai. Some sect leaders are having their mouths agape in wonder.

“Wah! Aren’t they the best dancers in the whole of our cultivation world? I hear they rarely perform now and when they do, it’s for—” Sect Leader Yao exclaims.

“Big and marvellous events like these?” replied Sect Leader Ouyang.

“Yes, indeed!”

They speak nothing but the truth. These nine women are well-known. Anyone and everyone would know them and how their performances have captured their spectators’ eyes and hearts.

But Lan Wangji’s focus is not on them, not at all.

When he sets the cup back down, Wei Wuxian is crouching in front of him, waving.

“Lan Zhan! Doesn’t my Shijie look beautiful?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes light up as he mentions Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji notices that this is always the case, ever since young.

“I helped her pick the fabrics. What do you think of the food?” the Wei continues his question.

In truth, Lan Wangji has not been hungry and hasn’t touched the food.

“It’s good, right? I tried not to make it too spicy for you. I know you don’t eat spicy foods.”

Lan Wangji glares at him. He knows that he himself has tried spicy foods throughout the years, trying to cultivate a stronger tolerance for them. He also knows that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this.

“Aiyou, what’s that look, Lan Zhan? Is something not pleasing to you?”

“Don’t you have other people you’d rather be talking to?” Lan Wangji says. The words come out calmly, but his hand trembles around the teacup. He feels a pang in his heart, knowing his words are rude but he really couldn’t help them.

“What! What ever could you mean? Shijie and her groom are busy with the other guests, and Jiang Cheng is helping his family. You want me to talk to my A-Niang and A-Die?” Wei Wuxian laughs and plops down cross-legged in front of Lan Wangji. “No, I’d rather eat here with you. Weddings make my parents very emotional and romantic, and I don’t want to bother them,” he smiles softly.

Lan Wangji huffs, “Don’t you have other friends?”

Wei Wuxian cocks his head to the side, like a small dog who has heard a sound for the first time. “You’re my friend, and the night is still young! Don’t you like our quality time, Lan Zhan?”

Luo Qingyang passes behind Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji notices and looks up. “Don’t you want to talk to Luo-guniang?”

Wei Wuxian cocks his head again, to the other side, and says, “I mean, sure, if I’m bothering you that much, Lan Zhan! But let’s catch up first! How are things in Gusu?”

Lan Wangji sighs. “Lectures are going well. Xiong-zhang encourages me to improve—”

“Aiyou, I mean fun things, Lan Zhan! What have you been doing for fun?”

The truth is that Lan Wangji has been raising the bunnies that Wei Wuxian gave him five years ago. He says a simplified version of this. “I have pets.”

“Pets!” Wei Wuxian is surprised. “Are you allowed to keep them in Gusu?”

The truth is that they are not. But the bunnies occupy so little space and don’t require much attention. Lan Wangji doesn’t know how to say this, so he simply nods. It’s not considered lying, is it? Then again, he’s not in the grounds of the Cloud Recesses at this point in time.

“Wow! Sounds like old Lan is really loosening up! I have to tell my A-Niang, she’ll be delighted!” Wei Wuxian giggles. “Oh, speaking of which, Lan Zhan, you still haven’t visited Yunmeng or Yiling! It’s been years since I offered! Don’t you want to meet pretty girls and talk to them?”

Lan Wangji stiffens at this, and frowns.

Luo Qingyang passes by again and this time, Wei Wuxian notices the flash of her golden garb. “Ah! Mianmian! Have you ever been to Yiling or Yunmeng? I’m trying to get Lan Zhan over here to—”

But when he turns around, Lan Wangji has already risen, heading towards his older brother.

Wei Wuxian is perplexed by this, but shakes his head, rises, and converses with Luo Qingyang.

Lan Wangji, meters away, dares to look back. Indeed, the gregarious Wei Wuxian’s head is tilted back in laughter, and Luo Qingyang’s hand covers her mouth as she giggles back.

The music echoes through his ribcage, where he only feels a hollowness. He feels like an empty drum, the songs of Wei Wuxian’s laughter reverberating through him. The beats of his heart falling out of his usual perfect synchronisation.

He will get used to this.

At least that is what Lan Wangji tells himself.

Chapter 4

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” Cangse Sanren says to her husband as they leave the tower to untie their donkey from the post.

Their son sidles up to them, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What did you think, A-Ying?” his father asks.

Wei Wuxian’s lips pull up in a half-smile. “It was indeed beautiful, as Yanli-jie deserves. She looked beautiful. Then again, she is always beautiful.”

“You just wish that she weren’t married to Jin Zixuan, right?” Cangse Sanren says in a conspiratorial whisper.

Her husband looks around nervously and he shushes his wife softly, “Oh dear, please don’t be so loud. The guests can hear…”

Wei Wuxian’s father has always been the more self-conscious one, his mother the more rebellious one.

They begin their journey back home, Wei Wuxian and his father walking side-by-side as his mother rides atop the donkey.

Fireflies light the evening grass. The moon shines above as brightly as a hall of lanterns.

“We are far enough away from the banquet now,” Cangse Sanren says, her eyes glimmering naughtily. “A-Ying, what are your thoughts about the wedding? An alliance between the Jins and Yunmeng is quite the smart idea.”

He is silent for a few moments, and then he asks, “A-Die, A-Niang, what are…” He pauses. “How did you know you two loved each other?”

His parents glance at each other and then his father asks, “Why the sudden question, A-Ying?”

“Husband, he’s in his twenties now, of course he’ll be curious,” his mother says, and then answers, “I knew when I felt your father was more important than other earthly conventions.”

“And I knew when I felt your mother was more important than other convictions,” his father adds, taking hold of the donkey’s reins so his wife didn’t have to hold them any longer.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian muses, “but initially, before you were able to make such commitments, how did you know you even thought of each other that way?”

“I…couldn’t stop talking about your mother, or thinking about her.”

“I couldn’t stop teasing your father,” his mother rejoins with a laugh.

Wei Wuxian startles at this. “But couldn’t teasing simply be teasing?”

“Maybe,” his mother says with a slight grin, “but there is definitely more pleasure in teasing certain people over others.”

They were all quiet for a few moments, his mother humming a song.

Cangse Sanren’s words reflect in his head.

There is definitely more pleasure in teasing certain people over others.

“Lan Wangji seemed odd today, don’t you think?” Wei Wuxian asks after enough time has passed.

“What makes you say so?” his father asks, giving a brief look to his wife.

Wei Wuxian is too in his own thoughts to notice this. “He kept frowning at me before the ceremony started, and glanced over constantly. I didn’t know if he was in trouble or something, trying to signal to me a message of urgency!” Wei Wuxian brought his finger to his nose and scratched.

“He really confuses me, A-Niang. I asked him afterwards why he was being so strange, and he simply held my lapel with two fingers before letting go and said, ‘You should not wear red to a wedding if you are not getting married.’ He’s one to talk, isn’t he?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

“I looked at his white clothing and laughed. ‘Lan Zhan,’ I said, ‘you should not wear white! And plus, everyone wears red or gold, it’s good luck. Plus, it’s our Yilingwei sect colors!’”

“That is strange,” Cangse Sanren says. “Didn’t you tell us that he didn’t like to touch people?”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “You’re right, A-Niang. He is—or he used to be, during lectures. But with me he gets so annoyed, I suppose that’s why he doesn’t mind touching me. He even pushed me and bit me once! And it’s not like I wasn’t in pain already at that time in Xuanwu Cave. A-Die, you should’ve seen his reaction. Do I annoy him that much?”

His father looks like he’s suppressing laughter. “And how do you deal with that? Do you need to fix that behavior?”

Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, as brightly as the moon. “Hah. No, it means I have succeeded.”

Surely, he did, didn’t he? He always wanted to grab Lan Wangji’s attention and whenever he has, the Lan always seemed to… react to it? To his actions? Somehow?

Wei Wuxian shrugs and laughs it off as a joke, not knowing just how right he is.

Oh, how right he is.

Chapter 5

“Wei Wuxian, you know nothing!” Jiang Cheng says, putting his cup of rice wine down on the tavern table.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, taking another swig and wipes his mouth.

Wen Qing sighs and rolls her eyes far back into her head. “Wei Wuxian, for once, your brother is correct. I’ve grown up alongside you and everyone can see you and Lan Wangji clearer than you see yourselves.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “What! Explain.”

Jiang Cheng groans, tired. “I can’t. Please, Wen Qing, save me.”

She rubs her forehead with her hand. The gesture is not because of an alcohol-induced headache; Wen Qing has superbly high tolerance, even higher than Jiang Cheng. She and Wen Ning were initially from Qishanwen. But Wen Qing… she never liked how things were run there and that her passion for medicine was never taken seriously. She wants to help people by providing ethical and innovative care, regardless of the political status of her patients.

But Qishanwen would never give that to her.

In the last year, she heard of a strong cultivator who’s also a great doctor and she goes to many great lengths to those who need help. It doesn’t matter if they have the means to pay or not, she will never fails to lend a hand. Her name is Cangse Sanren, of the Yilingwei Sect. Wen Qing and Wen Ning packed their bags, left Qishan and never looked back since. They have found a home so far away from home and the Weis have treated them like family ever since they stepped foot at Yiling.

“For the love of Guanyin, Wei Wuxian. You and Lan Wangji keep doing this dance. It’s the same dance I’ve seen for years. What? Five years?”

Jiang Cheng nods as he chugs down his drink.

“Five fucking years,” she confirms. “All you do is talk about him, and when you’re together, you both act like wounded puppies who can’t speak to each other like adults.”

“Can we be kittens instead? Xianxian is scared of puppies,” Wei Wuxian pouts.

“No, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing groans. “You’re adults! Mianmian and I know how to communicate. Even Jiang Cheng here and you can communicate when it’s necessary. Why can’t you and Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian laughs, throwing his head back. “Well, you and Mianmian have a special thing going, and Jiang Cheng and I practically grew up together!”

They both eye him, exhausted from a long day in the discussion conference—after which, again, Wei Wuxian talked incessantly about Lan Wangji’s stuffiness and beauty in turns—and exhausted from this years-long conversation.

After their meal, Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing rise to head back to Lianhua Wu, but Wei Wuxian is still feeling pretty wide awake.

“You’re such a night owl,” Wen Qing yawns, with fondness and resignation. “And unhealthy,” she doesn’t forget to add.

“I’ll see you both later!” Wei Wuxian assures them, waving blithely and walking off into the moonlight.

He spent many years training here alongside Jiang Cheng. His parents and the Jiangs were still incredibly close, and he could make the trip from Yunmeng to Yiling and back with his eyes closed.

He knows every corner of these cobbled streets better than his own name. He knows each crack in the walls, each vegetable garden, each chicken coop and where to get the freshest eggs to eat, each tree that could be climbed. He knows where to hunt the fattest pheasants and which trees bear the most jujubes.

He rounds the bend and sees a rustling in his favorite tree, the one he used to hide in as a child.

He nears what he used to call his ‘home’, and sees an elegant, white-clad silhouette on one of the thicker branches. If he hadn’t known Lan Wangji since young, he would’ve mistaken it for being the brightest moon.

“Lan Zhan!” The name erupts out of him before his brain can even register the figure.

The man’s eyes sweep over to him from the scripture he is reading.

“Lan Zhan, how romantic you are, reading here under the moonlight! What you’re missing though, is a jar of Tianzi Xiao. Hahaha!”

Lan Wangji closes the book in his hands, and watches as Wei Wuxian climbs up effortlessly onto a branch adjacent to him.

“What did you think of the discussion conference today, Lan Zhan? I was just in the tea house with Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng, and they were so exhausted from all of the conversations. Honestly, they’re probably tired of me talking, too. But you’re not, are you?”

Lan Wangji’s gaze is heavy upon him. Then, silently, swiftly, he tucks the scripture into his robe and leaps off the tree with such elegance that only the Second Jade of Gusu has.

“Good night.”

His back is to Wei Wuxian, and he looks like he’s about to leave.

He really is leaving.

Wei Wuxian calls out, again, without thought, “Lan Zhan, wait!”

Lan Wangji pauses in his gait and turns around as slowly as a planet. Wei Wuxian takes in his flowing smooth, stark black hair, his high cheekbones, his perfect, bow-shaped lips, and thinks that this man is not a planet, but a star. And thinks urgently that he doesn’t have much time.

What if...Lan Zhan catches me?

The thought rises like a dare, like a surge of bravery, and he locks eyes with Lan Wangji. In those amber eyes, there is a small registration of what Wei Wuxian is about to do.

Wei Wuxian leaps off the tree branch, arms outstretched, eyes closed to the rush.

He imagines hitting the ground. He imagines bruised knees. He imagines his teeth clacking together. He imagines all this familiarity.

He expects it.

But instead, he is caught by softness, sturdiness, embraced as if in water.

He opens his eyes. His legs are wrapped around Lan Wangji’s hips. His arms around Lan Wangji’s neck. His face is an inch away from the Jade’s.

They stare into each other’s eyes. No, they stare into each other’s souls. Each to each, something earnest there, something warm—something they both have wanted to bask in since forever. They look at one another. They don’t know this, but all they want to do is to get lost in each other’s eyes and never want to be found.

What if Lan Zhan catches me?

He did, so…

What do I do now?

“Wei Wuxian!”

The clarion ring of a woman’s voice interrupts them, and Wei Wuxian instinctively leaps out of Lan Wangji’s embrace, distancing himself from the man.

From around the bend, Mianmian appears. “Eh, Wei Wuxian! Everyone wanted me to look for you.”

“Let me guess. Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian asks, his arms folded behind his back as he relentingly saunters towards her.

“Ah, Hanguang-jun,” she says, bowing slightly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but we should go. We have an early day tomorrow.”

“More conferencing. Must be sooo exciting,” Wei Wuxian says with a giggle. Mianmian bows again, ignoring Wei Wuxian, before disappearing behind the bend.

Wei Wuxian begins to trail behind her and says, looking back at Lan Wangji. “Eh, Lan Zhan, much exciting news, right? A Yiling and a Jin wedding is supposed to be happening soon!”

Wei Wuxian expects Lan Wangji to be right behind him, but the man stays in the foliage of the tree, as still as stone. “Are you coming, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn,” the man manages with difficulty only his own heart knows of, and only his heart.

A Yiling and Jin alliance.

He was silly to think it would ever be otherwise. He watches as Wei Wuxian trails after his bride-to-be, having met his match in quickness and spirit, in presence.

Eventually, he follows after them, feeling like a shadow in their bright, brilliant wake. But even being like this, Lan Wangji is grateful. As long as Wei Wuxian is present, he will be okay.

They say the Second Jade is aloof, insensitive, cold and distant.

Little do people know how much his heart feels, how much it feels for one person, how much it feels for Wei Wuxian.

But little does he know, that Wei Wuxian feels exactly the same about Lan Wangji himself.

And little do each other know that they hold one another’s heart.

Chapter 6

Upon his return to Lianhua Wu, Wei Wuxian follows Mianmian to the courtyard where Wen Qing is having tea. He begins to run towards them, but then doesn’t want to disturb what might be a private moment for the two of the few strongest women Wei Wuxian knows.

“Eh, Wei Wuxian! Come sit,” Wen Qing says, noticing him scurrying away, and shifting in the grass to make room for him.

He plops down and thanks her for the cup of tea she offers him. Mianmian sits across from the two of them and takes her own cup.

“Where were you two?” Wen Qing asks.

“I found Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji,” Mianmian says, with an inflection that Wei Wuxian doesn’t quite understand.

“Mianmian, why that tone?” he asks, taking a sip.

Wen Qing ignores his question and asks her own. “How are things with Hanguang-jun?”

“What do you mean ‘how are things with Hanguang-jun?’” He blinks and cocks his eyebrow.

“To answer your weird question, things are the same, I suppose. He’s unreadable, as usual. He probably hates me, or at least cannot stand me or my presence,” he sighs, putting his tea down. “I don’t blame him. Even Jiang Cheng yelled at me today for being oblivious—but he never went into details.”

The women share a look with each other before Mianmian says, “Maybe we’ll have a conversation with him.”

Wen Qing nods. “I don’t believe he hates you, Wei Wuxian. I believe he is fond of you and doesn’t know what to do with that feeling.”

Wei Wuxian stares at both of them incredulously before letting out a boisterous laugh. “Your cups must have some strong baijiu in them, because that is simply not possible! Lan Wangji is fond of me?” he laughs again, but his laughter is hollow, for what he believes is his own truth.

“Lan Zhan and I may have been friends once, but...something happened, I’m sure, to make him feel distant from me.”

“Give it time,” Mianmian says with a reassuring smile.

He thanks both of them for the tea, bids them good night and goes off to his room. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like sulking. He feels like he has lost something precious to him. That moment in the tree...what possessed him to think such bold thoughts?

He shakes his head and peers up at the moon.

Lan Wangji is last to return to Lianhua Wu, his footsteps heavy and slow. He peers up at the moon, feeling once more quite alone—something he’s grown so accustomed to. But whenever Wei Wuxian is around, this feeling dissipates.

He hears a stirring from the courtyard. Two figures are leaning into each other.

It’s Mianmian and Wen Qing. Their lips meet in a kiss, their fingers delicately clasped, Wen Qing’s fingers tucking one of Mianmian’s flyaways behind her ear. They part and smile at each other.

Lan Wangji’s face reddens and he turns around, ready to walk briskly to his room, but Wen Qing rises with Mianmian’s hand in hers and says, “Hanguang-jun!”

He turns and bows to them in greeting. “Luo-guniang, Wen-guniang, I am sorry to interrupt.”

Mianmian can’t help but giggle a little. “No problem, Hanguang-jun. We actually wanted to speak with you.”

He raises his head, surprised and confused. What would they want to speak to him about?

Wen Qing steps forward and says, a stern gleaming in her eye, “You know I grew up with Wei Wuxian, just as much as you did, and I’ve seen for years how much he feels for you. Do not break his heart, please.”

He stands there, stunned, as if struck by lightning. “Wen-guniang…”

Mianmian’s mouth drops open. She is so surprised she can barely muster the sense to cover her mouth. “Lan Er-gongzi, please don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Aren’t you...marrying Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, his words barely coming out audibly.

“What?” Mianmian asks, equally mystified.

Wen Qing’s eyes wander from one to the other.

“If you are, please treat him well,” Lan Wangji says. “It is not my business, but please treat him well. Wei Ying deserves nothing less.”

“We all agree on that,” Wen Qing says, with a slight tone of sarcasm and impatience, realization dawning in her eyes.

Mianmian turns to Wen Qing and says, “My love, be patient. It’s clear that Hanguang-jun doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” he says, his voice fervent as they have never heard it before.

“See? This is why they both deserve each other,” Wen Qing says, rolling her eyes.

“Who?” Lan Wangji says, desperate for an answer now, his amber eyes wide in the moonlight.

Mianmian holds Wen Qing’s hand and says, “Is this really the Lan Er-gongzi who has always been at the top of our class? The Second Jade of Lan? THE Hanguang-jun?”

Lan Wangji is now standing at the edge of the steps, finding it hard to keep balance. “What does that have to do with Wei Ying?”

Wen Qing urges, “Do us all a favor and please talk with Wei Wuxian. Now. Heaven knows the both of you need to sort your shit out.”

Mianmian elbows Wen Qing and whispers, “Language.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“It’s really high time that the both of you talk things though, Lan Er-gongzi,” Mianmian says with a smile.

It’s starting to make sense now.

“The arranged marriage between Yilingwei and Yunmengjiang sects—”

“Is the both of us,” Wen Qing and Mianmian say in unison as they hold each other by their waists.

His eyes widen at the realization, all of the stars aligning in a constellation of clarity. Years ago, indeed, Wen Qing joined the Yiling sect. Yiling and Lanling…

“Congratulations,” he says, earnestly. He bows.

Mianmian shakes her head, “We’ll accept your congratulations if you go to Wei Wuxian right now.”

“That can be your wedding gift to us,” Wen Qing says. “Relieve us from this years-long misery!”

He nods and walks brusquely towards Sword Hall, having seen Wei Wuxian mingle there in the past.

Instead, he finds Jiang Wanyin sharpening his Sandu. He halts awkwardly in the doorway. Although they have never not gotten along, they have never had an intimate conversation before.

Lan Wangji is ready to leave unnoticed, but Jiang Wanyin raises his head and stops what he’s doing. “Hanguang-jun.”

“Jiang-gongzi,” Lan Wangji says, hurriedly bowing. “Pardon my haste. Do you know where Wei Ying is?”

Jiang Cheng rises to his feet, “Ah, where’s Wei Wuxian, you ask? Why do you care only now? Why this all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?” Lan Wangji asks. Is everyone possessed tonight by resentful energy?

Jiang Cheng sighs deeply, lowering his spiritual sword to his side and wiping his forehead. He recalls all of the conversations he has had with Wei Wuxian about Lan Wangji’s coldness, of his inscrutable actions, of his mercurial attitude towards Wei Wuxian. He says, “Wei Wuxian will go to the ends of the earth for someone he loves—aone he loves. So please, don’t toy with him.”

Lan Wangji swallows audibly, and then nods.

“Or I’ll fucking break your legs,” Jiang Cheng says glibly, his words softened by the small smile that plays on the edge of his lips. He sits back down on the steps and wipes his sword down.

“He’s in his bedroom.”

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, bowing.

He finds himself in a sprint towards Wei Wuxian’s bedchambers. He knows these halls well, having been to them so many times over the years for conferences. He has memorized these pathways and could perform them in his sleep if he needed to.

But not because of familiarity. No, he doesn’t know Lianhua Wu as well as Wei Wuxian.

He memorized these paths as a youth because of the boy who frequented them. He could paint these courtyards because he could imagine Wei Wuxian here, laughing and climbing trees. He could conjure up the scents of lotuses and lilies from miles away in his own mind because of the man who smelled of them.

Why would he even bother to… remember these minor things?

Because they have something to do with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji has always wanted to be part of him, in whichever way, in whatever way.

As he walks these grounds, images of little Wei Wuxian running on them fill his muddled head. Did his Wei Ying fall down here? The pavement is uneven. Did his Wei Ying scrape his knees as he tripped? Wei Wuxian would definitely trip, that clumsy boy.

Lan Wangji’s clumsy boy.

His feet stop immediately, as if by spiritual force, in front of Wei Wuxian’s bedchambers. Through the cloth on the door, he sees his silhouette moving across the room.

He watches forever until the silhouette freezes in front of him.

“Wei Ying,” he says, his voice caught in his throat.

The door slides open.

Wei Wuxian looks as surprised, his hair disheveled. “Oh, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji answers. He looks behind Wei Wuxian, whose clothing is strewn across the floor.

“Oh, sorry, I was unpacking and trying to find the set of clothing my parents want me to wear to the wedding.” He sweeps a tendril of his hair out of his face and smiles. “Isn’t it great that Wen Qing and Mianmian are getting married?” “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, his heart trembling and beating in his ear drums.. “Let’s take a walk.”

Wei Wuxian registers that there is something important Lan Wangji wants to say. He blinks the sleepiness out of his eyes and self-consciously straightens the lapel of his robe, and steps out, closing the door behind him.

The two walk side by side in the moonlight. If one asked either of them, he would say that the other was leading.

They find themselves, as if by some natural rhythm, as if by song and dance, by the water. The moonlight glistens across the water.

“I always thought that the moon was lonely,” Wei Wuxian says, with a small grin.

They both get on a boat that is docked there and row out into the middle of the lake wordlessly.

“It seems the moon isn’t so lonely now,” Lan Wangji says after a few moments.

When Wei Wuxian lowers his eyes from the sky, Lan Wangji is already looking at him. Gazing at him.

“Are you lonely?” Wei Wuxian asks him, his tenor voice resounding gently.

Lan Wangji thinks for a second, before shaking his head. “No.” He inhales. “Are you?”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curve up into a sad smile. “I used to think I wasn’t. But today, I felt it for the first time.”

A blink of confusion. “When?”

“When I saw you up in that tree, Lan Zhan. I saw you up there, and I thought I wanted to join you. And when you left, I…” Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, about to wear his heart on his sleeves for the very first time.

“I still wanted you there,” he finally tells the truth that only he used to know. And now, Lan Wangji does, too.

“I felt the same,” Lan Wangji says.

There is a brief pause. They notice they are sitting rather close to one another, their knees almost touching. Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian’s fingers, which loosen from the oars.

“People kept calling me stupid today,” Wei Wuxian says, scratching his head with one hand, musing. “I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. I was only talking about how you are annoyed by me.”

Lan Wangji freezes.

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m annoying, I know.”

Lan Wangji huffs, and says. “Wei Ying, that is not true.”

“Eh?”

“I’m sorry for how I have been acting. In truth, I thought you were going to get married to Luo-guniang.”

Wei Wuxian breaks into a laughter.

“Me? And Mianmian? Why would that make you so grumpy? Oh wait, wait! It’s because you still like her, huh? How many years has it been? Seven? That’s not a crush, Lan Zhan. That’s definitely ‘love’ territory!”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh stops. “I’m right? It’s love?”

“Mn.”

I’m right, after all.

Wei Wuxian says the word love and feels it not filling his heart. The man that he loves, loves another. But if that is what makes Lan Wangji happy, then Wei Wuxian will be happy too.

Lan Wangji’s hand inches forward on his own knee. Wei Wuxian’s hand mirrors this gesture, but they still don’t touch. “Mn. But not for her.”

Wei Wuxian cocks his head to the side. “Who then?”

Amber eyes meet violet eyes. “Wei Ying.”

“Yes? Who is it, then, Lan Zhan?”

“Wei Ying.”

“I’m here! Lan Zhan, if you don’t want to tell me, it really is fine! But rest assured I’ll find out!”

Wei Wuxian feels a hand around his own before he hears Lan Wangji’s next utterance.

“It’s you, Wei Ying. It has…always been you.”

“You,” Wei Wuxian manages to say, the words stuck in his throat, “you love me?”

“And no one else,” Lan Wangji affirms.

“Lan Wangji, are you saying you love ME?” Wei Wuxian asks again, now louder than before.

“I am.”

“Wow, they are right. I really am stupid,” he smacks his own forehead.

Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian’s hand away, he inches in and kisses his forehead.

“Do not hurt yourself.”

“L-Lan Zhan, you can’t say things like that and not expect me to not faint!”

“Do not faint, Wei Ying.”

“Well, I feel I just might!”

“I will always catch you, Wei Ying.”

“LAN WANGJI!”

“I am here.”

He feels at once that he is drowning and being revived at the same time. Raised near the water, he is baffled he barely knows how to swim in this new ocean of feeling.

It is Lan Wangji’s hand that serves as a buoy. Peering into them, Wei Wuxian echoes, “And I love you. How did I get so lucky?”

“I am the lucky one,” Lan Wangji breathes.

Wei Wuxian would never fail to call himself extremely lucky to be able to be surrounded by those he loves. But Lan Wangji would digress and say that those people are lucky to be surrounded by Wei Wuxian instead. And that includes Lan Wangji himself.

A slight breeze carries Wei Wuxian’s scent to Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji’s scent to Wei Wuxian. Sandalwood, incense, jasmines, lilies.

These aromas mix, and their lips meet.

The aromas of Yiling, Yunmeng, Gusu.

All are now his home, their home.

Art collabs!

Yilingwei Sect emblem by Ride

"Is that for Xianxian?" by Ride

"Look Lan Zhan, a big carrot!" by Ride

"No need to me so formal." short comic strip by Nao

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