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He had missed this, Lan XiChen realized. He had spent too long in seclusion, endless days alone in one room, never seeing the sun filtering through leaves, never feeling the breeze cool his skin and tug on his hair and robes, never finding solace outside of those four walls. He had almost forgotten how beautiful and peaceful the Cloud Recesses were, how nurturing to the soul his home was. It was nice, sitting in the company of his brother, conversing politely after a finished lunch, feeling the gentle smile that used to be his resting expression gracing his face once more.
“It’s nice that you are out of seclusion, brother,” Lan Wangji commented. He meant it of course. Lan Wangji had missed his brother terribly during his seclusion, worried about him often. Very rarely was he granted visits, and each time it seemed Lan XiChen was in a worse state than last he saw him. Each time he looked thinner, more tired, his memory seemed shoddier each time, and his speech a little slower and quiet. Now, Lan XiChen still wasn’t at the health he was in before, but he was undoubtedly better, and Lan Wangji was relieved to see that.
“It’s nice to be out,” Lan XiChen agreed. “And to be able to have lunch with you. How are you and Master Wei doing?” He shifted the conversation with ease just then, genuinely curious as to how his brother was doing, and wanting to catch up with as many events as he could.
“Wei Ying and I are doing well. He went out to Caiyi Town today to pick up a few things.”
Wine, no doubt, Lan XiChen thought, before remembering, “I believe that Sect Leader Jiang should be passing through there today. He has a meeting with me and Uncle this evening.”
A seemingly innocuous comment caused Lan Wangji to pause, his teacup held still in mid-lift. Carefully, he set it down, lifting his gaze to meet his brother’s, a look of worry thinly veiled in his eyes. “Wei Ying and Sect Leader Jiang will both be in Caiyi Town.”
Lan XiChen nodded, uncertain of Lan Wangji’s thought process. The two had met without incident plenty of times.
“Unsupervised.” Finally, it all connected for Lan XiChen, his own eyes widening in realization. The two brothers both got up from the table quickly, mounting their swords in a flurry of white robes, rushing off to Caiyi Town as fast as physically possible.
The hope that they would have made it to Caiyi Town before any conflicts might have arisen was quickly crushed at the sight of a large crowd gathered in the middle of a street. The sound of Jiang Cheng’s and Wei Wuxian’s voices also rang out over the crowd, incomprehensible in the curses and insults that were being flung at each other with reckless abandon. The Lan Sect brothers descended to the scene, the crowd scattering at the sight of white robes. It was common knowledge that if the Lan Sect was getting involved, it was better to get lost.
The fight was truly a scene. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian wrestled each other to the ground, were aggressively kicking at each other, clawing at each other, swearing as if no other words existed. Even through the commotion, a dark bruise could be seen forming around Wei Wuxian’s left eye. An equally dark bruise was visible on Jiang Cheng’s jaw. Lan Wangji and Lan XiChen struggled to pry the two away from each other, Lan Wangji wrapping an arm firmly around his husband’s waist and Lan XiChen gripping Jiang Cheng by the shoulders. Jiang Cheng, despite being held back, still tried to lunge and throw another punch at Wei Wuxian, only being stopped by his own lack of proper momentum and Lan Wangji stepping protectively in front of Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji shot a disapproving glare at Jiang Cheng before turning to Wei Wuxian. His husband was covered in dirt and mud from the street, blood dripped from his nose, and was smeared across his face. “Wei Ying,” he began, being cut off by Wei Wuxian shaking his head and rubbing a hand at his bloodied nose.
“I’m fine. Let’s go home,” he prompted. Lan Wangji wasn’t about to argue. He held Wei Wuxian tighter and mounted his sword with him in his arms. They took off, not before Lan Wangji sent another glare at the Jiang Sect Leader, which Jiang Cheng had fully expected. Wei Wuxian only looked sadly at the man who had once been his brother.
That sad look only sent another flare of anger through Jiang Cheng, causing him to try to wrench himself out of Lan XiChen’s grip.
“Sect Leader Jiang, are you alright?” Lan XiChen asked, releasing his grasp on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders once Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were out of sight.
Jiang Cheng pushed strands of hair that had fallen out of his topknot away from his face, grimacing from the ugly, dark bruise on his jaw that he mistakingly touched. “Fine,” he hissed. He swatted at his robes trying to dust them off to no avail. “I will have to postpone our meeting today. Please extend my apologies to your uncle.”
“Jiang Cheng, this may not be my place to say,” Lan XiChen began, stopping the other from retreating to the nearest inn. “But don’t you think it may be time to forgive Master Wei?”
Jiang Cheng’s jaw hardened, his mouth set into a firm, thin frown. Forgive him. Jiang Cheng spent the better half of the last decade trying to find it in himself to forgive Wei Wuxian, trying so hard to forgive the one who had been his brother for most of his life. But how could he? Wei Wuxian walked away from him, from his family, abandoned him. He protected the people that murdered the entire Jiang Sect. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to forgive him, he spent nights awake, staring out at the lotuses swaying in the night breeze, wishing that he could forgive him. But he couldn’t forgive Wei Wuxian when he was dead, how could he forgive him now? He wanted to forgive him, he was his brother.
He had no response to Lan XiChen. He hummed, before continuing his way to the inn, no longer wishing to be a spectacle in the street or have the empathetic gaze of Lan XiChen glued to him.
Lan Wangji began drawing a bath for Wei Wuxian the second they returned to the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian sat moodily in the bath, his hair swirling around him like a pool of ink in the water. A frown was glued to his face, acknowledging nothing of Lan Wangji cleaning the dirt from him.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asked, concerned for how uncharacteristically quiet and somber his husband was.
“We haven’t fought like this in years,” Wei Wuxian explained, though it hardly cleared things up for Lan Wangji. He knew that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had been frequent bickerers, teasing and verbally prodding at each other every other sentence.
“Is that...good?”
“It’s great,” he smiled, a little crooked to not irritate his swollen eye. “He might be finally forgiving me.” After all these years, it was a hope that Wei Wuxian had to hold on to. He missed Jiang Cheng, missed having his brother to joke around with and bother, having him to tease. Sure, the two had fought in the time since Wei Wuxian’s return. The fights had even gotten physical, but a brawl like that? That was something they hadn’t done since their early teen years when they would get ripped apart by other Jiang Sect disciples and reprimanded by Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian for hours on end. Those brawls always ended up with them having a clear head afterward, spending hours kneeling as punishment, being forced to think of how they have done wrong, think of how they are brothers first and foremost. Often times when the punishment and fight were over, the two couldn’t even remember what caused the quarrel.
This fight was no different. Wei Wuxian truly couldn’t remember what he said to Jiang Cheng that caused the fight. He only remembered that the second he said it, he had gotten decked in the eye. Instinct leads to him punching Jiang Cheng back, which then ended in a tackle and, well the rest was pretty self-explanatory. It was a cathartic experience. It felt familiar and right. Stupid, petty, and immature, absolutely. But it was healing. Maybe it really was a sign that Jiang Cheng truly was healing from the pain Wei Wuxian had caused.
Jiang Cheng heard a light tapping at his window. Cursing whoever had the audacity to bother him at this time and in this way, he threw the window open. Wei Wuxian was sitting on the railing of the porch of the inn, two jars of Emporer’s Smile in his hands.
“Have a drink with me,” he offered, smiling. It was surreal. It was just like when they were young. Jiang Cheng took one of the jars. He turned away from the window, leaving it open. An invitation, an offer to make amends. Jiang Cheng hadn’t forgiven Wei Wuxian yet, but perhaps he was getting there. He was at least making an effort. They both were.