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“Hanguang-jun,” says Nie Huaisang, bowing low and looking up at his sworn brother through long eyelashes. “Perhaps we should retire to the jingshi?”
The Lan sect has become accustomed to this strange shamelessness from newly-instated Sect Leader Nie; Lan Xichen even welcomes it. Nie Huaisang has the sneaking suspicion that he hopes Lan Wangji has gotten over Wei Wuxian. If he were a lesser man, he would laugh and laugh without ever stopping because the mere thought of Lan Wangji forsaking Wei Wuxian is too much to bear.
Lan Wangji’s eyes flash brightly as he offers him a hand, thin fingers curling in towards his palm. Nie Huaisang kisses it and nods, raising his eyebrows slightly enough that nobody would notice, aside from the intended recipient.
Indeed, nobody blinks an eye as their beloved Hanguang-jun leaves the hall with his head held high and Nie Huaisang’s hand on the crook of his arm. When Nie Huaisang turns around, he can see Lan Xichen give him a smile of encouragement, even.
He wants to feel disgust but he only feels empty, devoid of any emotion he had towards this arrangement.
“Can I see A-Yuan once before we talk, didi?” Nie Huaisang asks softly, tapping his fingers on Lan Wangji’s sleeve.
Lan Wangji nods. “Mn. He will be in the jingshi.”
“I fear our conversation will not be one for young ears, Hanguang-jun.” Nie Huaisang drips honey from his tone like it’s second nature, leaning in towards Lan Wangji for the benefit of any stray listeners.
“Xiongzhang… would be happy to have A-Yuan for the night, if you are staying,” replies Lan Wangji, choosing his words carefully. Nie Huaisang can see the slight confusion in his face as he tightens his grip around Nie Huaisang’s fingers.
He leans in for a faked kiss as soon as Nie Huaisang pulls himself up on the tips of his toes, breath mere centimeters away from Lan Wangji’s ear. “New information. Relevant to both of us,” he whispers, landing a sloppy kiss on the side of Lan Wangji’s face.
Lan Wangji sighs in relief and anticipation as he returns the kiss. There is a sound from the bushes that makes it clear their efforts at deception are not going to waste.
They make it to the jingshi in silence, and A-Yuan is waiting for them as soon as they open the door.
“Shushu!” he calls out, launching himself into Nie Huaisang’s arms before remembering where he is. He immediately looks repentant, pushing out his lower lip as he looks up at Lan Wangji. “I’m sorry, Diedie, I tried to be quiet. Just excited.”
Nie Huaisang laughs and pats A-Yuans head, carefully avoiding the forehead ribbon. “My A-Yuan, such a filial nephew. Do you remember the secret I told you about last time I came to see you?”
A-Yuan nods eagerly, leaning in to whisper, “Everyone says you and Diedie will get married but it’s not true. But I already knew that. You can’t be my shushu and my diedie at the same time.”
Lan Wangji’s face softens. “I have a very smart son,” he says dryly, still close enough to pat A-Yuan’s back.
Nie Huaisang wants to laugh at the joke, but then he sees how A-Yuan glows with pride and decides that Lan Wangji can use whatever humor he wants as long as this child is always smiling. Always. Nie Huaisang will make sure of that.
They’ve talked about marriage before, primarily in the weeks after the whipping. Nie Huaisang had cried as he’d promised an unconscious Lan Wangji he’d do anything to keep him safe, that he’d steal him away and keep him. Lan Wangji had woken up at that and said, “A-Yuan would not do good with sabers,” before promptly falling back asleep. Nie Huaisang was too shocked that he’d actually woken up to realize Lan Wangji had thought about this marriage.
“Baobei, I have a gift for you,” says Nie Huaisang, already pulling out a newly painted fan from under his robes. “Do you like it?”
A-Yuan’s eyes widen as he turns the fan over in his chubby hands. “So pretty, Shushu,” he replies in awe.
Lan Wangji does actually smile this time, taking A-Yuan from Nie Huaisang and setting him down on the floor. “Lan Yuan,” he says in the serious voice he uses when he wants A-Yuan to listen to him. “Do you think you will be alright if you stay with Bofu tonight?”
A-Yuan considers it for a while, tapping his finger on his chin. “I will be fine,” he says just as gravely. Nie Huaisang wants to laugh, but feels it would be counterproductive to the situation.
They drop A-Yuan off with a few more hugs and a quick lesson in opening fans before they are finally alone in the jingshi. Lan Xichen actually winks at him when they leave.
“He missed you.” Lan Wangji speaks first, even as he’s setting up silencing talismans and locking doors.
Nie Huaisang laughs. “And I, him. I’m glad you’ve explained everything to him.”
Lan Wangji pauses, sitting down on the bed to catch his breath. It has been three years since his whipping, but it still takes the energy out of him to walk this long without rest. “Not everything,” he admits, wincing as his robes rub against the injuries. “Yesterday, they learned about Yiling Laozu.”
“Ah,” says Nie Huaisang, sucking in a breath before joining Lan Wangji on the bed. There is a jar of salve on the floor next to the bed, easy enough to find once you’ve used it as many times as Nie Huaisang has. He peels off Lan Wangji’s inner robes and starts applying the medicine. “That’s actually what I’m here to talk about, didi.”
Lan Wangji immediately inhales and flinches as Nie Huaisang’s hands reach a more sensitive part of his back. “Wei Ying? Why?”
“There have been… rumors,” starts Nie Huaisang, hoping to all the deities he’s ever learned that Lan Wangji understands why he cannot outrightly say this. “Rumors that perhaps the musical cultivation of Yiling Laozu was not quite as dangerous as it may first seem.”
“Elaborate?”
“First-hand account from a Jiang disciple,” Nie Huaisang clarifies, running his thumb over one particularly terrible scar. “I seduced him into this, so it’s probably reliable.”
“Mn.”
“Tell me, Wangji, you were there. At Nightless City, when Jiang Yanli… passed away, why did the corpses keep going?”
Nie Huaisang can see Lan Wangji’s muscles tense as he turns around to face Nie Huaisang with a raw look in his eyes. “He stopped playing,” he breathes out, suddenly looking furious with himself.
Oh no. Nie Huaisang recognizes this look, so he grabs Lan Wangji’s hands in his own and brings them up to his lips. “You couldn’t have done anything,” he reminds his sworn brother, speaking against his skin.
This mostly stops Lan Wangji from trying to hurt himself at the news, which Nie Huaisang considers as a win. “The Jiang disciple, he said the music kept going. The corpses kept coming, but this time they were attacking the Jiang contingent--and it’s well known that Wei Wuxian kept away from them during the battle.”
“So it couldn’t have been Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji finishes, swallowing and leaning his head forward into Nie Huaisang’s shoulder.
Nie Huaisang feels the tears before he hears them and honestly, he would probably never hear them if he didn’t know they were there. He knows that this is special, that Lan Wangji would not touch anyone else, aside from his son and his Wei Ying, so it gives him a special pride that he gets this right now.
It’s like they’re fourteen again, lazily practicing kissing in the back hills on his first trip to Gusu. They could be fifteen and lying in bed together after Lan Wangji gets beaten for drinking alcohol that Nie Huaisang had brought. They could even be older, just after Wei Wuxian disappeared for three months and Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin had stopped in Qinghe for a break before leaving again.
There is really nothing to do except lift his hands and wrap them tightly around Lan Wangji’s waist, keeping away from the wounds. “There’s something else, too,” he says, stroking a shaking hand through Lan Wangji’s hair.
Lan Wangji tries to move out of the embrace to look at him, but Nie Huaisang stops him with a hand at the nape of his neck. “No, stay like this, I don’t think I can look at you while talking about this.”
“Mn.”
“A year ago, I was painting. Da-ge usually let me paint him whenever he was in a good mood, and he really was. San-ge was supposed to come and play Clarity for him that day.”
“Mn.”
“I think San-ge forgot that because I haven’t a clue about cultivation, I know more about the arts than anyone else in Qinghe.”
Lan Wangji shifts, trying to look at Nie Huaisang’s face. “You do,” he agrees. “More than anyone in Gusu, too.”
“Thank you, didi, but stay there, don’t look at me. I can’t bear it.”
“You do not have to tell me, if it is too difficult,” Lan Wangji says softly, snaking his arms around Nie Huaisang’s back.
Nie Huaisang swallows. “I do have to. It concerns you.”
At this, Lan Wangji turns sharply, eyebrows slightly raised. “Jin Guangyao has no bearing on me, A-Sang,” he says simply, tilting his head half a degree to the left.
“He plays Clarity wrong, but the same type of wrong each time. I heard him once, then twice, then three times and it was the same every time-- it was different from Er-ge’s song. Every time after he played, Da-ge was angrier than he’d ever been.”
Lan Wangji is not dumb. Perhaps not as quick as Wei Wuxian, but then again, who has ever been as clever as the Yiling Laozu?
Nevertheless, Lan Wangji had been the top of his class at Gusu, and while grief had slowed him down just a bit, he is still quick, quick enough to know that Nie Huaisang, for all his head-shaking, is not dumb either.
“I didn’t see Jin Guangyao at Nightless City,” says Lan Wangji, finally drawing his head back and looking at Nie Huaisang. “But it would not be too far to presume he can play a flute.”
Suddenly, Lan Wangji sucks in a breath, bringing up his hand to stroke Nie Huaisang’s cheek, which is strange since he didn’t even realize he was crying. “It is… alright to be angry,” Lan Wangji tells him.
Nie Huaisang laughs. “I know, didi, it’s just strange that one man could tear apart the two most venerated brotherhoods in the cultivation world with hardly more than a flute.”
“Mn. Being angry does not mean we cannot grieve.”
There is a pause while they adjust their embrace, tears falling freely now. After a moment, though, Lan Wangji extricates himself from the hug and stands up, shifting uneasily. “A-Sang, we need to go,” he says softly but urgently, undoing the locks on the door.
“Go?”
“Letter last week. Jin Guangyao’s arrival was today. A-Yuan is there.”
Nie Huaisang swears as he springs up and follows Lan Wangji out the door. Running is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but technically, they’re not actually running. Simply walking faster than is necessary.
Lan Xichen opens the door, seeming appropriately confused at their presence. “Wangji, Huaisang. Did you… need something?”
Lan Wangji does not bother answering before sweeping into the room and taking A-Yuan into his arms. The child grins a toothy smile at him, crinkling his eyes. “Diedie, I missed you,” he says, yawning.
“It’s nearly curfew,” Nie Huaisang tries to explain. “We missed A-Yuan.”
“Er-ge?” The voice is jarring to Nie Huaisang, and even more so to Lan Wangji apparently.
A-Yuan tugs on Lan Wangji’s hair lightly. “Diedie, you’re hurting me,” he says in what would have been a whine if he were any other child.
Lan Wangji lets out a breath, loosening his grip. “Apologies, A-Yuan.”
“Wangji, Huaisang, it’s nice to see you!” Jin Guangyao says, smiling a genuine grin at them and waving at A-Yuan. “It’s been so long.”
Nie Huaisang laughs and the sound rings through the room. He wonders if it sounds as tinny to everyone else as it does to him. “Ah, hello, it really has been too long, San-ge,” he says, stuttering slightly.
He turns to Lan Wangji, holding out his arms. “Give him to me, A-Zhan, he’s sleepy.”
A-Yuan yawns again, trying to keep his arms open. “I missed you too, Shushu,” he mumbles, burying his face into Nie Huaisang’s shoulder and promptly falling asleep.
Lan Xichen smiles. “You could have just left him here, it would have been fine. You two should be able to be alone for a while. A-Yao and A-Yuan were playing a game.”
“No,” Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang say in unison.
“I mean, I do trust you, but we have no need to be alone, Er-ge,” corrects Nie Huaisang, stroking A-Yuan’s back. “It’s fine.”
Lan Wangji nods before pausing and placing his hand on Nie Huaisang’s waist. “A-Sang, let’s go?” he says softly, only for his sworn brother’s ears.
Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao exchange a loaded glance, only interrupted by Lan Xichen’s gaze flitting to his brother’s hand on Nie Huaisang’s waist. They do look quite the family like this. Nie Huaisang can’t help but feel he’s stolen Wei Wuxian’s place.
Of course, that sends him down the train of thought that Jin Guangyao is the one who stole this from Wei Wuxian, not him. He feels Lan Wangji’s hand tighten around him and wonders if they’re thinking about the same thing.
“My A-Yuan is tired,” Nie Huaisang decides, hitching the child higher up in his arms so that Lan Wangji can comfortably circle his arm around his waist. “We’ll be going now, Er-ge, San-ge. Forgive me for not being able to say goodbye properly!”
He lets Lan Wangji lead him outside, releasing a breath of relief. They’re barely out of earshot when they hear voices coming from within the hanshi again.
“Did that seem strange to you? Their behavior?” Jin Guangyao asks in a thin voice.
“Hm, a little bit, but I suppose it’s to be expected. They’re newly in love, after all. It’s… nice to see Wangji with emotion again.”
“Let’s go,” Nie Huaisang tells Lan Wangji, bumping their hips together. “Don’t listen to them."
Lan Wangji's lips tilt up slightly. "Am I in love with you, Sang-ge? You should have told me. It would have made life much easier."
Nie Huaisang hisses at him. "Demon. I can't believe they don't see how mean you are to me. My Wangji is the most emotional."
A-Yuan raises his head from Nie Huaisang’s shoulder, rubbing his eyes. He gasps. “Xian-gege?” he asks, yawning.
Both the sworn brothers suck in a breath as Nie Huaisang tries to soothe A-Yuan. “No, no, just me, just your shushu,” he says, running a hand through A-Yuan’s hair and rocking him back and forth. “Sorry, sorry, baobei, it’s only me.”
“Oh,” replies A-Yuan, pouting. “I miss Xian-gege though.”
Lan Wangji answers this time, holding out his arms so they can make the transfer. “I know. It’s okay to miss him.”
A-Yuan sighs in contentment as he snuggles closer to Lan Wangji’s chest. “Thank you, Zhan-gege,” he says sleepily, closing his eyes.
Nie Huaisang raises an eyebrow. “Zhan-gege?” he mouths, smiling.
The look Lan Wangji throws him could cut glass with its edges. “It was an easier transition to this than to Diedie,” he explains in a sharp tone.
“Of course,” answers Nie Huaisang, placing a hand on the small of Lan Wangji’s back. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I just think it’s absurdly adorable.”
Lan Wangji’s ears turn a vibrant red as they walk in silence for a while. “It really would be easier if I was in love with you,” he says suddenly, hitching A-Yuan higher up onto his hip.
Nie Huaisang smiles slightly, stroking a hand along Wangji's back. "Yes, but, I don't know, it's no good to dwell on things like that."
Lan Wangji gives something that could barely be considered a shrug. "And what would my mother say if she learned I was to be married to the Headshaker?"
“I swear, nobody believes me when I say you’re funny! Not a single person!” Huaisang says, groaning.
They've finally reached the Jingshi. It’s quiet outside, since curfew has probably just barely started. Lan Wangji lays A-Yuan down on the tiny bed and pulls the blankets up over him, hand hovering over his son’s forehead for a moment. Nie Huaisang smiles.
“Come on, time for bed for you,” says Nie Huaisang once A-Yuan is settled. He makes Lan Wangji lay down on his stomach and rubs salve onto his back. A-Yuan tosses and turns a little, but Lan Wangji starts singing this lullaby that calms him down. It’s nice. Huaisang will remember it the next time A-Yuan is this unsettled, since it’s definitely going to happen tonight.
Nie Huaisang makes himself small and tucks himself between the wall and Lan Wangji, making sure they’re not touching. He doesn’t think Wangji would mind it, really, but it’s more for his own sake than anything.
Tonight, Nie Huaisang does not sleep. Tonight, Nie Huaisang looks out for his sworn brother and nephew and thinks.