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Wei Wuxian had lived a long and full life. 2000 and some odd years was more time than anyone could have ever asked for. And even though 16 of those years, he wasn’t here, and was lost – floating Gods knows where – he had lived a long and full life.
He knew that he had more time than others deserved. And he was grateful for his time, but he wished others in his life had some of his time. It would have been better that way.
Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli. Jin Zixuan. Lan Xichen. So many others who deserved more time.
Wei Wuxian could not stress how grateful he was for the time that he received. There had been so many magical and incredible moments in those 2000 years. Endless moments that mirrored the brightness of the stars above their heads.
He had gotten to watch so many generations of Lan disciples grow up to be incredible cultivators. He had gotten to reconcile with his little brother, and watch Jiang Cheng get married. He got to be a part of his nephew’s life, even if he had gotten a late start.
But his greatest treasure of all these past two millennia was that he finally found a family again. He got married, to his soulmate. He got to watch A-Yuan grow and get married himself. And he was thankful for all these moments, sprinkled throughout his life like new snow.
But Wei Wuxian was tired.
In retrospect, Lan Wangji should have seen this coming. And he did – the last 50 years or so the light had gone out from Wei Wuxian’s eyes. He smiled often, but that smile that once rivaled the brightness of the sun, no longer reached Wei Wuxian’s eyes. The nightmares returned, which hadn’t plagued his soulmate in nearly 500 years. And so, Lan Wangji waited for the words.
Nothing had changed between the two of them. They were still hopelessly devoted to each other. He was still Wuxian’s ‘Lan Zhan’ and Wuxian was still his ‘Wei Ying.’ And he knew that regardless of his own feelings, he would follow Wei Wuxian to whatever end. But even the Second Jade of Gusu couldn’t deny the deep longing in his bones. The fatigue that wouldn’t end.
Lan Wangji was tired.
And so, Lan Wangji waited, and time went on. He waited for Wei Wuxian to say the words. He would never push Wei Wuxian to do something he wasn’t ready to do. So, he waited.
It was cold in Cloud Recesses the night that Wei Wuxian had finally said those words aloud. It was after 9pm and yet, Lan Wangji found himself restless without the company of his heart occupying the space next to him in bed. Without a sound, Lan Wangji stood, grabbing the warm robe that was draped over the desk.
Wei Wuxian knew he was there, and yet his gaze did not leave the snowflakes falling from the sky, much as they always did in their home. It was cold in Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji felt nothing but warmth as he gazed at his husband. Stepping across the threshold, Lan Wangji draped the robe in his hands across his husband’s shoulders, a faint smile forming on his lips as he watched Wei Ying burrow into the robe, breathing in the sandalwood scent that always seemed to linger no matter where he went – as if it had been burned into his skin with every touch of Lan Wangji’s fingers.
“You’ll catch a cold Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said, knowing the words were falling on deaf ears. The only response he received was a soft hum of acknowledgement from his husband. Time passed slowly under the light of the moon as the two just stood there, eyes trained on the sky watching the snow find its way home across their own. Neither one spoke; until they did.
“I’m tired.” Wei Wuxian said. Simple as that. “I’m tired, Lan Zhan.”
The second the words left his husband’s lips, Lan Wangji felt the air around the two of them grow lighter. As if the world had finally gained some semblance of peace from those words. There were no feelings of regret, or fear. Wei Ying was ready – and so – Lan Wangji was ready as well.
When Lan Wangji finally looked down at his husband, he wasn’t surprised to find that tears had found their way down Wei Ying’s cheeks. He simply reached a hand up to cup Wei Ying’s cheeks, an action he had done countless times in nearly two millennia and brushed them away.
Lan Wangji’s reply was one of few words, as if his mind had been made up for just as long as Wei Ying’s had:
“Okay.”
Something in Lan Wangji’s voice caught Wei Wuxian’s attention, and he brought his gaze down from the sky. Even after over two thousand years together, Wei Wuxian still felt a little breathless when he locked eyes with his husband, little orbs of sunlight staring into the moonlit gaze of his own eyes.
“I’ve lived a long and full life, Lan Zhan,” Lan Wangji only hummed in reply, tucking a small piece of hair that had fallen in front of Wei Wuxian’s eyes behind his ear. “There’s so much that I’ve seen and done, but there are people that I miss and for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it wasn’t enough.” Wei Wuxian said, his voice breaking on the apology
Cloud Recesses was cold, but the warmth of Lan Wangji’s embrace as he pulled Wei Wuxian into his arms threatened to thaw the coldness he had felt in his soul for an immeasurable amount of time. He felt, rather than heard Lan Wangji’s reply.
“No need for I’m sorry’s or thank you’s between us.” Lan Zhan said simply, reciting the words like muscle memory. The next words broke the dam that Wei Wuxian had been holding back for longer than he cared to remember.
“Wherever Wei Ying goes, I will follow.” He said, as if it was the simplest decision in the world to be made. And Wei Wuxian felt the world burn and blur as tears filled his eyes, as if one wrong gust of wind would send them crashing down. It was as if there was no other option for Lan Wangji, the two of the long since becoming two parts of a whole. Wherever Wei Wuxian went, Lan Wangji was sure to follow.
The two stayed like that, wrapped up in each other in silence as they had done so many times before, until the sun began to creep over the tree line before Wei Wuxian spoke again.
“I want it to be in the summer.” He said, head resting on Lan Wangji’s shoulder as they watched the sun rise. Lan Wangji replied with a soft “Mn” much as he always did.
“I’ll begin the preparations and the arrangements. It will take some time to tell those that we need to tell and to get things properly organized” Lan Wangji said, pulling Wei Wuxian closer.
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And so, time passed, and letters to loved ones were written. Preparations made. Sect heirs chosen, not that there was much doubt as to who would take over the leadership of the Gusu Lan sect when Hanguang-Jun passed. All that was left was to tell their son. Their beautiful, kind, strong-willed child.
And to be frank, Wei Wuxian did not predict the outcome of the telling of their plans to their son and Lan Jingyi. Of course, he rather expected Lan Jingyi to be the one outraged and in tears. But his son-in-law did not seem surprised by the news. The words left Lan Wangji’s mouth, and Lan Jingyi simply nodded, eyes glossy but otherwise silent.
Lan Sizhui, however, seemed to inhabit his husband’s personality and temper momentarily.
“No. Absolutely not. I won’t allow it!” Lan Sizhui said, tears already streaming down his face as he shouted at his fathers. Excessive noise is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses be damned. “You’re not,” Lan Sizhui paused, gasping for a breath he felt he’d never be able to take again, “You’re not leaving me again!” He cried, grief pouring into his words, threatening to choke everyone in the room.
“A-yuan…” Wei Wuxian said, eyes turning glassier with every word that left his son’s mouth. Lan Jingyi was fully crying now, the weight of the situation fully weighing on him now, and still he said nothing; he simply just stood, and wrapped his arms around Lan Sizhui, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. The offered comfort from Lan Jingyi seemed to set off Lan Sizhui’s fight of flight response, a loud sob leaving his mouth as he struggled to tear himself free. And soon enough, he did, throwing the door to the Jingshi open and leaving his parents behind him.
If they could do it why couldn’t he?
“Lan Sizhui!” Lan Wangji called after his son, voice full of both frustration and concern, and started towards the door. He was stopped by Wei Wuxian’s grip on his wrist, his husband shaking his head.
“Let him have his time.” Wei Wuxian said, a stray tear falling down his cheek as he gathers a now openly sobbing Lan Jingyi into his arms. Wangji took one last look out the door before sighing, a firm nod before heading out to complete some of his final duties of sect leader. Yes, there was still a little over two months before it was time, but they had both wanted to spend that last month with what was left of their family, creating one last handful of memories.
Lan Sizhui had not returned by the time the sun began to dip behind the trees – not that either of them had expected him to – but this caused the two parents to worry, nonetheless, because that’s what parents do. Lan Jingyi had long since fallen asleep, the exhaustion of his grief catching up to him. Lan Wangji simply nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to Wei Wuxian’s lips when he said he was going to find their son.
The second Wei Wuxian’s feet hit the ground; he knew where he was headed. He had been the one to show A-yuan the peace and solace of the flowers in the field surrounding the outer mountain of their home. As his son came into view from the mountain path, Wei Wuxian felt a small smile creep onto his face. A sense of pride and love filling him to the brim, to the point he felt he belonged amongst the stars because of the brightness of his son’s love. As he walked through the field, Wei Wuxian remembered the first time he had brought his son here – neither of them knowing the other’s identity. It had been peaceful then too. When he took his place at his son’s side on the ground, he heard the small sigh that left Sizhui’s mouth. A comfortable silence overtook the two, neither feeling the need to break it. It was a while before Sizhui spoke, Wei Wuxian wanting his son to feel comfortable enough to express his feelings.
“I don’t know how to do this without you, A-die.” Sizhui said, voice thick with tears, as he wrapped his arms around his knees, effectively protecting himself from the pain of what was to come.
“A-yuan,” Wei Wuxian cooed, reaching out for his son. Sizhui hesitated briefly, deciding whether it would hurt worse to allow himself to be comforted by his father. His body decided for him, leaning into his father’s body before letting a tear fall down his cheek, leaving a warm trail in the spring air. “I learned a secret. There is no without. I am not gone.” Wuxian said, brushing the tear off his son’s cheek before running a comforting hand through his hair, much as he used to do when A-yuan was a child and couldn’t sleep.
Those words seemed to strike a chord in Sizhui, and he felt himself overcome with a fresh wave of tears. The two sat like that for a long time, the last of the light of the day disappearing beyond the horizon before Wei Wuxian spoke again.
“I can only hope that you don’t ever get to this point.” Wei Wuxian said, his hands still carding through Sizhui’s hair, who’s sobs had now quieted into just sniffles. Wei Wuxian reached into the front of his robe and pulled out the letter he had written months ago, before handing it to his son.
“Read this when you’re ready. When you’re ready, but before we go.” Wei Wuxian said, placing a kiss to the crown of his son’s head before standing, squeezing his hand softly before walking back towards the Jingshi.
Lan Sizhui did as he was told, choosing to read what his father had written to him that night when he found his couldn’t sleep:
“My A-yuan,
How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.
Grief is a fickle thing. I didn’t realize that until your uncles died. Some days grief is kind and you’re allowed to carry on as if nothing had ever happened. But other days, grief is all consuming and threatens to squeeze all the air from your lungs and you’re left gasping for air that you didn’t think you had to spare. Life takes and takes until there is nothing left.
I’ve loved and lost so many in this life and my last. And one can only take so much loss before it threatens to leave you shattered. And someone will have to pick up the pieces.
There are not many things that I regret in this life. My life has been abundant and glorious. One thing that I regret is that this time you will have to pick up the pieces. That is too much for a parent to ask of their child. But you are strong and capable, and you are not alone.
I hope that one day you can understand, and I know that you’re angry. But I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive us. Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek. Think of that and think of us when you stand in the rain. We loved you completely. And you loved us just the same. That’s all.
To the moon and stars and all the way back, A-yuan.
- Your A-die”
When Lan Sizhui joined his parents for breakfast the next morning and threw himself into their arms, they pretended not to notice the way their beloved son’s shoulders shook with his silent sobs.
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As the day drew closer, Wei Wuxian felt himself grow lighter than he had in years. While Lan Wangji’s internal body clock continued to wake him at 5am, he no longer had any duties to attend to. And it was glorious to Wei Wuxian to wake each day with the warmth of his husband beside him instead of the cold spot he had grown accustomed to in the last two thousand years.
They spent their remaining days with each other, and occasionally with Sizhui and Jingyi. They ventured to nearby cities and allowed themselves to indulge in the riches they would only see again in their next lives.
They laughed. (Yes. Lan Wangji laughed).
They loved. They loved so completely and wholeheartedly it threatened to consume them.
They cried. They cried for all the loved ones they had lost, and the loved ones they’d find again sometime soon.
And then it was time. They had decided to do it in the very same field that they had said their first ‘I love you.’ Where Lan Wangji had asked Wei Wuxian to marry him. It seemed only fitting. This place of solace that bore witness to all their firsts would also bear witness to all their lasts. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help the smile that found its home on his face as he heard the tall grass shuffling behind him as his husband, his husband, joined him in the flower field one last time.
Lan Wangji took his space on the ground behind Wei Wuxian, allowing him to lay in between his legs, back to chest, before handing him the jar of wine.
“Emperor’s Smile. Lan Zhan, you’re just spoiling me now.” Wei Wuxian said, uncorking the bottle. If it smelled a little bitter, Wei Wuxian said nothing.
“Mn. The only the best for Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said, brandishing his own jar of tea.
A welcome silence consumed them as they drank. They shared no words, as there were none to be shared. Everything they had wanted to say to one another was already known. Neither of them wanted to break the silence of the peaceful flower field. Only when their jars were empty, and their breathing had begun to slow did they speak.
“I love you.” Was all that they said for now. That was all that needed to be said. A pleasant warmth had now filled their bodies, the air beginning to cool as the sun began to set. Several minutes passed before Wei Wuxian spoke again
“’M tired, Lan Zhan.” He said, eyes growing heavy, each blink taking more effort to open back up again. They now laid side by side, hands intertwined. When their bodies were collected in the morning, they would simply look as if they had drifted off to sleep.
“Sleep, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said, brushing a stray hair off his husband’s cheek and behind his ear before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. A delighted hum left Wei Wuxian’s lips before he spoke again.
“Do you remember all those years ago when I told you that if I were to die, I would want to die at your hands, because then it would have been worth it?” Wei Wuxian said, words beginning to slur. Lan Wangji hummed in the affirmative, pulling Wei Wuxian closer to him with what little strength he had left. “I was right.” Wei Wuxian said, a blissful sigh leaving his lips. He nestled further into Lan Wangji’s hold, resting his head on his husband’s collarbone, his hand resting right above his slowing heartbeat. He smiled softly when he felt Wangji’s hand mirroring his own.
“This life and the next, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian said for the last time, waiting for his response before he let go.
“Mn. And the next, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. His final action of this life was to press a kiss to his husband’s lips.
One last time.
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“Do you think they’ll find each other again?” Lan Sizhui said quietly, eyes fixed on the memorial tablets of the two most important people in his life, aside from the person he was lucky enough to call his husband.
Lan Jingyi sighed softly, tearing his gaze from the memorial tablets to Sizhui. He brushed a stray tear off Sizhui’s cheek, as he had often done these past couple days, and as he’d do for the rest of their lives. He turned back to look at the tablets, a soft smile gracing his face before he said, as if there were any doubts:
“I think they already have.”