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Lotus Pier is by no means a quiet place, especially compared to the restrained Cloud Recesses, but whenever there is a festival, everyone becomes significantly busier, filling the air with harmonious cacophony as they rush about.
Jiang Cheng watches the festival preparations unfold before his eyes from his spot on the main dock, idly glancing at the rows of dragon boats filling the lake. A makeshift market has sprung up along the pier, with merchants hawking their wares with more enthusiasm than usual, the food vendors shouting the loudest of all. The aroma of street snacks float into the air, a warm temptation to any unsuspecting passerby. High in the sky, the sun blazes brightly, but a nice breeze coming off the lake chases away the worst of the heat.
Distracted by the preparations, Jiang Cheng startles when an arm suddenly encircles his waist, tugging at him until his back bumps against a firm chest. The familiar smell of sandalwood incense envelops him, subtly cutting through the scents of salt and grease surrounding them.
Sighing, Jiang Cheng turns around and holds himself at arm’s length from his husband, schooling his features into a half-hearted scowl. “Stop that.”
Lan Xichen only smiles, looking at him with such fondness in his eyes that Jiang Cheng has to turn his head away, flushing. With a small sense of satisfaction, he notices that Lan Xichen has part of his in a knot today, secured by a pair of hairpins. Twin lotus peek out among the dark, smooth strands, beautiful without being overly dazzling.
“Ah, is Wanyin shy?” Lan Xichen says with a teasing lilt.
Without waiting for a response, he takes Jiang Cheng’s wrist, tugging him away from the din of the chaos. They stop in the shade of a nearby tree, hidden from the view of any onlookers but still allowing them a clear sight of the lake. Satisfied, he pulls Jiang Cheng into a long hug, pressing a kiss against his forehead.
“Embarrassing…” Jiang Cheng mumbles into his shoulder, his face burning. Still, he doesn’t pull away from the embrace until Lan Xichen does, and only so he can peck Jiang Cheng’s lips instead.
Predictably, Jiang Cheng tries to push him away again, but Lan Xichen catches his arm in one smooth motion, smiling. “All the affairs are in order for the dragon boat festival, you have no urgent matter to attend to, and I have read through all the correspondence you have received for today. Come sit with me.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” Jiang Cheng complains, but he obliges anyway, settling down into the grass. He leans against the tree trunk, stretching out his limbs not unlike a cat.
Sometimes, he forgets that Lan Xichen is a former sect leader and can therefore help him with a lot of his responsibilities, forcing him to rest. He’s been running Lotus Pier single-handedly for nearly two decades, with not a day of break in between, so that all the free time he has now feels unsettling.
After glancing around and making sure that everyone is preoccupied with their own tasks, Jiang Cheng tentatively leans his head against Lan Xichen’s shoulder, his tense muscles relaxing when Lan Xichen’s arm comes around his shoulder instinctively, pulling him closer.
He isn’t ashamed of their relationship, per se, not when half the cultivation world had been invited to their wedding. Still, he can’t quite get rid of his habit of hiding his weaknesses, and showing affection publicly had always felt like he was putting his vulnerabilities on full display. Even in a safe place like Lotus Pier, he prefers to keep these acts private.
Besides, the cultivation world already has a Lan Wangji and a Wei Wuxian; it has no more room to tolerate further shamelessness.
A delight string of giggles catches his attention, pulling him away from his thoughts. His eyes fall upon a group of children who are running along the docks, weaving between the legs of busy adults as they chase after one another.
One of the kids is clutching a string that is tied to a kite in the shape of a bird, running in short sprints in an attempt to make it fly. But there are too many people crowding around, and his tiny legs ultimately can’t run that fast, so the kite doesn’t fly very high. Still, the children are shrieking and laughing so hard that it doesn’t matter. Their innocence is vibrant on their shining faces, and it reminds Jiang Cheng of Jin Ling’s childhood, when he had still been protected from the vultures of the Jin Sect, free of any responsibilities.
Noticing Jiang Cheng’s gaze, Lan Xichen takes his hand, smoothing over his knuckles with a finger. “Do you wish to have children, Wanyin?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and he turns to Lan Xichen in disbelief, his face an alarming shade of red. “We are two men, Lan Huan! Stop spewing nonsense!”
At his tone of offence, Lan Xichen laughs, a clear, tinkling sound that makes the sun’s brightness dim in comparison. “I meant we could adopt if you wanted,” he says, when he finally calms down. “What were you thinking, hmm?”
“W-whatever!” Jiang Cheng splutters, withdrawing his hand to smack Lan Xichen square in the chest.
“Alright, alright,” Lan Xichen acquiesces easily, kissing the pads of his fingertips in apology.
A loud shout draws their attention back to the docks, where the dragon boats are lined up in formation. In the far distance, a purple lotus made of spiritual energy blooms in the sky, signalling the turning point of the racetrack. People begin to gather, crowding close to one another in order to get the best view all along the shoreline of the lake. Murmurs begin to spread through the people as they placed bets on which boat would win.
Jiang Cheng gives a cursory once-over at the participants, even though he had already seen the list of disciples earlier. They are all in their teens, not particularly powerful cultivators yet, but all talented in their own rights. It would be a close race.
“Thoughts on who will win?” Lan Xichen asks him, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I thought betting was against the rules,” Jiang Cheng answers.
Lan Xichen shrugs. “I was merely asking an innocent question.” His eyes sparkle with mirth, and he adds, “Besides, we are not in the Cloud Recesses.”
“That one,” Jiang Cheng points. The boat in question has red as its primary colour, though the scales of the ‘dragon’ are lined with gold and white. Once upon a time, that colour would summon flashes of war and destruction in his mind’s eye, but years have passed since the Wens’ tyranny, and Jiang Cheng is able to recognize that boat for what it signifies: good luck.
Lan Xichen tilts his head thoughtfully. “That team’s steersman is Qiu Xi, right? You think he can win against Ke Yonghuan’s team?”
Ke Yonghuan is one of the most promising young cultivators of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, a natural-born leader with a diligent attitude and skilled in both civil and military matters, if only a little too serious at times. He has received high standings in all competitions during the previous cultivation conference, making a name for himself despite humble backgrounds, and is on track to become the head disciple once he becomes old enough.
Jiang Cheng nods. “His paddlers are all strong and agile, and more importantly, they are all friends. His team may not be the strongest, but sheer power is not always what is necessary to win, especially in a competition that requires tacit understanding between all the members.”
“Wise words,” Lan Xichen hums. “All your disciples are skilled, but I still believe in Ke Yonghuan’s leadership. If he wins, I…want a kiss from you.”
Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Boring. If you’re gonna bet, at least bet something valuable.”
Lan Xichen smiles. “Your kiss is very valuable to me, Wanyin.”
“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng laughs, pushing him away. “What do I get if Qiu Xi wins, then?”
“Hmm,” Lan Xichen says, his expression drawn in serious concentration. After a moment, he raises his head and leans closer to whisper in Jiang Cheng’s ear. “I will play the xiao for you in private, later.”
Spluttering and red-faced, Jiang Cheng shoves him away, shifting on the grass until there are several inches between them. “Shameless!” he hisses, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. Thankfully, everyone seems too preoccupied with the dragon boat race that is about to happen to pay them much attention.
Lan Xichen throws his head back and laughs, drawing Liebing from where it had rested against his hip. “I’m serious, Wanyin. Did you forget I actually play the xiao?”
Jiang Cheng glares at him as hard as he can, but he’s afraid that with his current flustered state, it doesn’t achieve the intimidating effect he is going for. “That is not what you meant and we both know it. I cannot believe you have everyone fooled into thinking you are a graceful gentleman, Zewu-jun.”
“I have never been anything but,” Lan Xichen replies sweetly, reaching to pull him back.
As the sun reaches its zenith, blazing bright and turning the surface of the lake to glittering emeralds, a loud whistle comes from one end of the pier. Instantly, the dragon boats shoot off from the docks like fish, sailing through the water like swords cutting through air. Soon, they are only pinpricks of colour in the distance, leaving behind ripples that fade slowly.
It takes no longer than a moment for the boats to reach the turning point, and then they are returning at full speed. Predictably, Ke Yonghuan’s boat is at the front of the pack, the dragon’s blue and white scales matching the scarce wisps of clouds in the sky. The other boats are not far behind, but still, it seems that they are struggling to catch up.
Lan Xichen is watching the race with unwavering calm, but Jiang Cheng knows that he is absolutely feeling smug right now. He simply crosses his arms and leans back against the tree, waiting.
All of a sudden, as the boats get closer and closer to shore, a sliver of red breaks away from the pack, gaining speed. Its drummer beats furiously as a loud, clear voice shouts from the back of the boat, and as one, the paddles cut through the waves easily. It’s Qiu Xi’s boat.
The red dragon boat shoots past Ke Yonghuan’s boat, reaching the docks with a hair’s breadth of lead. One by one, the rest of the boats arrive as well, their speed raising huge waves that rush towards the sky. Despite the array that had been activated beforehand, those closest to the docks are still drenched, and they leap away from the scene with cries of laughter.
Turning to Lan Xichen with a self-satisfied smirk, Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow. “See?”
“Wanyin is wise,” Lan Xichen says easily, drawing him into his arms.
Jiang Cheng should be going out onto the pier to congratulate the winning team, but between Lan Xichen’s embrace and the radiant sun, a satisfying warmth soaks into his bones, and he melts further into Lan Xichen’s arms.
A sudden weightlessness overtakes him as he looks at the lively crowd that have Qiu Xi on their shoulders, shouting cheerfully, with a small part of them comforting the other disciples, assuring them that they did their best. The sight is a far cry from the first few years after the Sunshot Campaign, where Lotus Pier had been a shadow emerging from ruins, the mood much more subdued even around festivals. Now, the bustling atmosphere makes it hard to think of a time when the pier hadn’t been as animated as it is.
An indescribable emotion wells up inside him, not unpleasant, but intense all the same. It catches him off-guard, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until Lan Xichen is wiping at his cheeks, his face pinched in concern.
“Wanyin?” he calls, and it’s evident that it isn’t the first time he’s said his name. “Wanyin, are you alright?”
Jiang Cheng tries to nod, but his shoulders are trembling and he sniffles. He blinks rapidly, trying to stop the sudden onslaught of tears. He doesn’t understand why he is crying—he had always cried when he had been sad, or when he had been in extreme pain, but he is neither now. Even more baffling is the fact that he hadn’t cried in years, for any reason.
His words still come out stilted when he tries to explain. “I-I just feel so relieved. No, that’s not right, it’s not relief. But when I see them, and being here with you, I…” he trails off, not quite knowing how to finish his jumbled thoughts.
Lan Xichen’s face smooths out when he realizes Jiang Cheng isn’t suffering in some way. “Wanyin, you’re happy,” he says softly, almost in awe, reaching up to cup his face reverently.
Jiang Cheng has finally regained some semblance of composure, and he frowns. “I’ve been happy before. It doesn’t feel like this.”
Lan Xichen shakes his head patiently. “Being content is not the same thing as being happy, my love,” he explains, taking both of Jiang Cheng’s hands.
A steady heat climbs up Jiang Cheng’s neck at the delicate action, at the way his hands feel so small, enclosed in Lan Xichen’s grasp. “O-oh,” he finally manages. “I’m happy,” he says in disbelief, and then, louder, like he’s trying to convince himself it’s real, “I’m happy.”
He looks down at their joined hands, opening his palm so he can intertwine their fingers together. “I think…you make me happy.”
Lan Xichen beams, a million times more dazzling than the sun. Leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “I’m glad. You make me happy too, Wanyin.”