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Someday, Jiang Cheng will stop tempting fate and thinking of these outings as “just a little night hunt.” Someday, he will stop expecting things to go smoothly for him. Someday, he will remember that the gods are laughing at him.
But not today. And not now, tumbled down a (very small) ravine, with an armful of Lan Wangji.
“I do not think you need to hold me quite so tightly, Wanyin.”
Jiang Cheng grunts as Wangji shifts and elbows him in the stomach. “Don’t move until I’ve had a chance to check you over.” He gets his free hand under him and sits them both up. The top of the ravine, about ten yards up, is clear. He scans their surroundings. Whatever had launched itself at them didn’t appear to have followed them down the embankment. They landed on a dense spread of juniper bushes.
“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters. He can feel his skin start to burn already.
“I dropped my sword,” Wangji says.
Jiang Cheng sighs. “Are you hurt?”
Wangji shakes his head. “A bit dizzy,” he says. He touches his shoulder, and his hand comes away bloodied. “Oh.”
“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng says again. “Alright, okay.” He looks around again. They appear to be at the bottom and not in danger of falling farther, so he gets his feet under him and takes a pouch from his belt. “Hold still. I’m just gonna check it out.”
“Mn.” Wangji closes his eyes and takes several deep, steadying breaths.
Jiang Cheng peels away Wangji’s short jacket. It must be one of Wei Ying’s, a black denim number, perfect for concealing blood. The short-sleeved white shirt underneath has a small, blooming stain, but to Jiang Cheng’s relief, the wound, though a good three inches long, isn’t deep, so they’ll only have to deal with Wei Ying’s hysterics for a few days, a week at the most.
Jiang Cheng takes a length of clean white linen, a small vial of some stinging liquid Wen Qing brewed up, and a few bandaids.
“I’m just gonna clean this up, then we’ll figure out how to get out of these fucking bushes.”
“You are allergic,” Wangji says, blinking slowly at Jiang Cheng.
“Very.”
“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused.”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and tips a bit of the liquid onto the linen. “It’s not like you put yourself in that yaoguai’s path.”
Wangji makes a strange sound in the back of his throat, and Jiang Cheng pauses mid-swipe.
“What?”
Wangji clears his throat. “It looked like a little white bunny,” he says. He flicks a glance at Jiang Cheng, then drops his gaze to his hands. “It was cute.”
It takes a few seconds for Jiang Cheng to process this information.
“I apologize,” Wangji says.
Jiang Cheng snorts. “God, Wangji.” He grins. “I’m gonna roast you so hard,” he says, wiping the remaining blood from Wangji’s arm, “but we’ve gotta get out of here first.”
Wangji smiles at Jiang Cheng, eyes going soft in a look generally reserved for Sizhui and the Cloud Recesses bunny colony.
“I understand.”
“You’re a giant fucking nerd,” Jiang Cheng says. He sticks a few bandaids on the cut and tugs the sleeve down. He straightens Wangji’s jacket.
“So I have been told.” Wangji shakes out his arms and allows Jiang Cheng to help him to his feet and sways into Jiang Cheng’s side. “Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Wangji touches his forehead and winces. “I seem to have hit my head.” He sways again, and Jiang Cheng gets an arm around Wangji’s waist.
“Damn it.” Jiang Cheng shifts Wangji to his right side and coaxes Zidian to life on his left. They had been hunting in a pine forest, and a trio of sturdy trees grew close to the edge, just above them.
Well, he still had some luck.
“Alright,” he says. “You’re gonna have to hold onto me. I’m gonna loop Zidian around those trees and pull us up. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Wangji says. He sways again, but he rights himself quickly. “How should I…?”
“I think if you can get on my back, like a piggy back, I can...oh! Oh, okay.”
Wangji settles onto Jiang Cheng’s back with the same brisk efficiency that he does most things in his life. Jiang Cheng takes a moment to make sure Wangji is secure. Wangji’s legs wrap around his waist, his ankles crossed in front, up high enough as to stay out of the way of Jiang Cheng’s legs. He holds on around Jiang Cheng’s neck but manages not to choke him. When he’s satisfied, Jiang Cheng opens his hand, and Zidian expands into a whip. The pleasant crackle of electricity runs under his skin, driving away, for the moment, the irritation of the rash spreading up his arms and neck. She responds beautifully, as always, snaking away from his hand and lashing out toward the trees with unerring aim. She loops around the trunk of the middle tree and lashes securely. He gives her a sharp tug, and Zidian goes taut.
“Alright,” Jiang Cheng says. “Hang on. This won’t take long.”
Wangji rests his head on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “Mn.”
“Giant fucking nerd,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile.
Jiang Cheng makes quick work of the climb, and soon enough, they are safely out of the ravine. There’s no sign of the yaoguai that started this whole adventure. Wangji’s sword rests a few feet from the edge. They make it home without further incident, and Jiang Cheng deposits Wangji into the loving and slightly hysterical arms of his husband with a promise to come round the next day and check up on him. Then he heads home and deposits himself into the loving arms of his own husband.
“Rough day?” Huaisang asks as Jiang Cheng buries his face in the crook of Huaisang’s neck.
“Have I got a story for you.”