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“Xichen-ge?” Nie Huaisang’s voice is quiet, hardly enough to make it to Lan Xichen’s ears. “Are you still awake?”
Lan Xichen shifts, pulling Nie Huaisang closer to him. The beds in this inn are too soft for his tastes, and Nie Huaisang’s form is pleasingly solid in his arms. “Yes, love,” he murmurs back. “For now. You’ve thoroughly tired me out.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” Lan Xichen stifles a yawn and kisses Nie Huaisang’s hair. They don’t get to see each other like this nearly enough, away from the prying eyes of the cultivation world, allowed to be free and loving with each other. He’ll make himself stay awake all night to talk if that’s what Nie Huaisang wants. He can sleep later, once they’ve both returned to their sects.
“Do you ever…”
Lan Xichen waits for Nie Huaisang to continue. The silence stretches on, until Lan Xichen wonders if Nie Huaisang has fallen asleep. He’s just about to prompt him when Nie Huaisang sighs.
“Never mind. It was a silly question.”
“Are you sure? You know you can ask me anything,” Lan Xichen tells him. Their hands find each other against Nie Huaisang’s chest, and Lan Xichen rubs his thumb over smooth skin.
Nie Huaisang squeezes his hand. “I know. I promise it’s not important.”
Lan Xichen can tell that’s not completely true. If it weren’t important, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have lost his nerve like this. He’s curious about what the question could be, but he doesn’t want to pry. They’ve been through this before—initially, they’d had to struggle to figure out how much they trusted each other, how much they needed to share with each other. It hadn’t been easy at first, but Nie Huaisang has proven again and again that he’s dedicated to bettering himself for Lan Xichen, and that he never wants to cause him pain again. In return, Lan Xichen has come to accept that there are things he will never know about Nie Huaisang. Learning to trust again has been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it’s been the most rewarding. Despite all the heartache and mistakes and tragedy in the past, Lan Xichen can’t imagine himself happier than he is now, with Nie Huaisang in his arms.
So he doesn’t force the topic. He just buries his nose in Nie Huaisang’s hair and hugs him tight the way he knows he likes.
“If you change your mind, let me know,” he says.
“All right,” Nie Huaisang replies. “Get some sleep. I love you.”
“Love you too,” Lan Xichen murmurs, and he lets himself drift off.
~
Normally, that would be that. Lan Xichen had expected that Nie Huaisang would eventually change his mind and ask his question, or that he would drop the topic completely. But in this case, Lan Xichen can tell that the question, whatever it is, still lingers on Nie Huaisang’s tongue, unable to be spit out but too precious to swallow.
He trusts Nie Huaisang not to conceal anything too critical, but he begins to suspect that Nie Huaisang isn’t going to make a decision without prompting.
“Tell me what it is,” Lan Xichen finally insists, after months of this uncertainty.
“I can’t,” Nie Huaisang says, flushing and fumbling with his fan—a gift that Lan Xichen had painted for him on the five-year anniversary of their relationship. “It’s silly, Xichen-ge, it’s simply too silly.”
“Are you afraid I’ll laugh?” Lan Xichen asks.
“No, not that. Oh, hopefully not that.” Nie Huaisang grimaces. “Though I am afraid that you wouldn’t take me seriously. That’s part of it.”
Lan Xichen tilts his head. “At this point, I’d be a fool not to take you seriously,” he says. “You’ve been chewing on this for months.”
“That’s the other part,” Nie Huaisang says unhappily. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t take me seriously, in case I’ve misjudged terribly, and you take it too seriously in the other direction and get upset.”
Lan Xichen tries to follow the logic, but without knowing what they’re talking about, it’s hopeless. “Just tell me, A-Sang,” he says, tucking some stray hair back behind Nie Huaisang’s ear. “I promise I won’t laugh, and I won’t get upset. Trust me, OK? We can handle anything together.”
Nie Huaisang nods, but he doesn’t say anything at first. His nose and cheeks are splotched with blush and his fan trembles in his grip. Lan Xichen rubs slow circles across Nie Huaisang’s back, waiting patiently for his courage to build. He hasn’t seen Nie Huaisang this nervous in years, and he’s beginning to wonder if he should back off and tell him that it’s OK if he still can’t say what he wants to say. He feels Nie Huaisang’s heartbeat under his hand, rabbit-quick, and he feels the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage.
“Xichen-ge, I want to get married,” Nie Huaisang blurts out, voice high and trembling. “I want to marry you. I can’t think of ever loving anyone else. It’s OK if it’s secret, it’s OK if no one but us knows, I just want to be yours forever.” He looks up at Lan Xichen, grinning despite the tears filling his eyes. “See, it’s so silly, right? Two sect leaders married in secret, whoever heard of such a thing? Tell me how silly I’m being, Xichen-gege.”
Lan Xichen is trembling now, too. “It’s not silly,” he whispers. “It’s not, A-Sang.” He understands everything now—why Nie Huaisang has avoided saying this for so long, and why he couldn’t let it go. It’s big. It’s very big, and very scary, and it fills Lan Xichen with an electric joy that he’s never, ever felt before. Marriage is something he’s only thought about in his most self-indulgent daydreams. There are a thousand reasons why he should say no—many of them chiseled in stone—but right now, faced with Nie Huaisang’s declarations, Lan Xichen can’t remember a single one of those reasons.
He kisses Nie Huaisang, hard and clumsy and perfect. He lets that electric joy spill over and through him, willing Nie Huaisang to taste it on his lips.
“So what do you think?” Nie Huaisang asks nervously when they break for air, and he still sounds so apprehensive that Lan Xichen bursts into laughter. “Ahh, no, you said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” Lan Xichen tells him, still chuckling. “You make me laugh, A-Sang.” He wills himself to calm down, though he can’t stop smiling. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop smiling. He reaches up to untie his forehead ribbon, and Nie Huaisang’s breath stops. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you, and I’m yours, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
He holds out his hand, and when Nie Huaisang takes it, he winds his ribbon around Nie Huaisang’s wrist. Nie Huaisang has touched his ribbon, has removed it for him, but they’ve never done this, and Lan Xichen has to make an effort to keep his hands steady.
“You won’t mind having to hide it?” Nie Huaisang frets, as Lan Xichen ties off the ribbon with an elegant knot. “You don’t mind that we can’t have heirs, and that our sects would throw a fit if they found out?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Lan Xichen says, still smiling, wide enough that his cheeks begin to hurt. He hardly notices. “I don’t mind any of it. I was never going to consider marriage with someone else anyway. I love you too much for that.”
Nie Huaisang kisses him again, soft and chaste. Lan Xichen savors every second, savors the knowledge that this man loves him enough to want to stay bound to him forever. He would shout it from the rooftops if he could, tell the whole world that he’s about to have the most sensitive, devoted, beautiful husband anyone could ask for, and that Lan Xichen loves him with every ounce of his being.
But for now, it only matters that Nie Huaisang knows.