Work Text:
When the car stops in front of the Lanling Jin Clan Conference Center, Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Apparently they have been renovating and now the building is even bigger than before, with sharp metal lines and bright glass facades. He hates these kinds of cultivation events. They are almost useless for developing skills or knowledge, most of the time being occupied by social gatherings and round tables that focus way more on politics than scholarly themes. He has checked the program and there are only a couple of interesting workshops, one about communication arrays and spells and one more focused on sword practice. His brother nudges his shoulder from beside him, pulling him out of his train of thought, and offering a small smile of comfort before getting out of the car, where their uncle is waiting for them.
They are escorted by the staff to the main hall, where they take their badges and welcome bags before being seated at their table for the opening ceremony.
Lan Wangji takes a look at the room, brightly lit by fluorescent lights, only to focus his eyes on his brother’s back and follow them to a round table to the right side of the stage.
On the stage there is a long table where the Jin Clan representatives are seated, all wearing sharp grey suits with golden ties. Lan Wangji doesn’t like them. They focus most of their energies on achieving more power and control in the cultivation community, and a lot of their political choices in the past years have been highly questionable.
He looks down at his lap and smooths the fabric of his tunic out, letting the texture of the subtle cloud-patterned embroidery soothe his fingertips. The Gusu Lan Clan is the only one that kept their official uniforms more traditional, rather than opting for westernized suits like all the other clans. With the years it evolved into a more minimal style than it was centuries ago, but it still maintains their trademark decoration patterns, passed down from generation to generation.
They are served lunch, standardized for everyone, and Lan Wangji stares at the different plates on the table with an unimpressed gaze, until his brother starts taking bites here and there and moves the bowls with the vegetarian and delicate seasoning options towards him. Lan Wangji eats, but the taste is unfamiliar, he can’t figure out the texture, and the person currently talking on stage makes him want to scream, for the specific pitch of their voice as much as the utter nonsense of their ideas.
He knows his brother and his uncle have to pay attention to everything that is being said, because they will have to be the ones to discuss and navigate the clan politics during the rest of the weekend. But he doesn’t have to; he knows he is there just to represent the excellence of the Lan Clan. He will perform a demonstration of guqin techniques tomorrow, and probably he will participate in some of the sword sparring sessions, and that’s it. His uncle will preen, his brother will smile and then they can go back home to Gusu, where he will be able to go back to his quiet routine of studies and the familiar view of the mountains.
They are serving desserts now, the smell of the candied fruits intense and syrupy sweet, and after that there will be the introduction of all the Clans present.
Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. Almost done.
Lan Wangji looks at the various clans as they stand up at their tables to do their speech one after the other, not really listening to the words, just drifting his gaze from table to table. When it’s the Yunmeng Jiang Clan's turn he can see Wei Wuxian, first disciple and one of the most obnoxious and shameless cultivators he has ever met, rise up beside his shidi. He smiles wide and fearless, as usual, before bowing to the stage along the others and putting a hand on Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder while Sect Leader Jiang talks. Lan Wangji is always confused and unsettled by Wei Wuxian. But at the same time he is fascinated by the way he talks excitedly about cultivation theories. And last year, when they sparred during the conference in Gusu, he was a worthy opponent. And he’s currently looking straight at Lan Wangji, who kept his gaze on him while recalling the way they danced around each other, perfectly matched in their skills.
Damn.
Lan Wangji looks down at his lap right away, blood leaving his face. He must have noticed Lan Wangji was staring. What will he think? Oh god.
Lan Wangji barely has time to start panicking about it before their Clan is called, and he has to stand, bow, and be under the gaze of the whole room while his brother delivers his speech, his mellow voice familiar and comforting but not enough to keep Lan Wangji from the edge. He bites the inside of his cheek and keeps his posture perfect and his expression neutral until his brother bows again and the attention of the whole room leaves their table. Instead of sitting back down he taps his brother’s shoulder twice before turning on his heel and heading for the nearest side exit of the hall.
The exit leads to a long side corridor, empty, with marble floors and some bamboo plants. He walks a little and then sits down cross legged on the floor beside one of the big pots. He reaches into his qiankun bag and retrieves his airpods, puts them on and sets his favourite guqin piece on repeat, before leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He doesn’t know how much time passes, the repetitions of the song blurring into each other and soothing his mind.
He hears footsteps approaching (and thanks his past self for learning to avoid using noise cancelling headphones in these situations - he ended up being startled more than once and it wasn’t fun) and he opens his eyes slowly to the figure approaching. The black silhouette is stark against the white of the marble. Wei Wuxian, of course. He is wearing what might perhaps qualify as a suit, but every layer is a different shade and texture of black fabric and the jacket cut is unconventional, long and asymmetrical. Lan Wangji is fascinated by the way Wei Wuxian always finds a way to present as his true self.
Maybe he is just looking for the bathroom.
“Here you are! I was worried when I saw you leave before. These things suck, uh?” Wei Wuxian offers, with a blinding smile.
Lan Wangji never knows how to interact with him. If they were discussing cultivation practices in a study setting he could navigate the interaction easily, but these casual social interactions leave him clueless. Why would he even be worried about him?
Wei Wuxian is standing in front of him and Lan Wangji allows his gaze to rise a little, up along his figure, pausing on the collarbones peeking from the loose collar of his shirt.
“Do you mind if I join you? They started discussing the use of talismans and if I hear another bad take from that ignorant Jin cousin I may snap, and I don’t want to cause a scene. Again.” He chuckles, rubbing his nape self-consciously.
Lan Wangji gives a small nod and Wei Wuxian sits on the floor beside him, stretching his legs and his arms before turning towards him.
Oh no, why did he nod? Now he will want to have a chat or something. Lan Wangji presses his lips together.
“What are you listening to?” Wei Wuxian asks. He is talking softer now that they are closer, voice gentle. Lan Wangji takes out one of his airpods and offers it to him and Wei Wuxian opens his palm up to receive it.
He puts it on and listens for a while.
“Oh, I love this piece. It’s one of those you played last time, right?”
Lan Wangji nods. He thinks he wants to say that yes, he did, and he loves the piece very much. But words don’t come out. Oh. He underestimated the degree to which everything was too much.
But Wei Wuxian doesn't actually pressure him to talk, he just leans back, limbs akimbo, and listens. When the song starts again he makes a questioning noise and Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning.
“It’s a good piece, I also have some songs that I need to listen to on repeat, you know? Then I end up hating them and I have to stop, but I get it.” He is smiling gently and Lan Wangji feels the tension of the social interaction leaving his shoulders a little bit.
Wei Wuxian looks at him some more and then seems to make up his mind about something, because he slaps his hands on his knees and stands up, saying “I have an idea. Do you want to get out of this ugly building and its ugly lights?”
Lan Wangji is confused for a second while Wei Wuxian is offering his hand to him. Lan Wangji looks at it for too long probably, because Wei Wuxian takes it back, pats his jacket and gestures with his head toward the other end of the corridor.
“I know a place,” he says with a wink. “I think you’d like it, trust me. No shenanigans, no loud noises, no people.” He puts three fingers by his temple.
Lan Wangji thinks about it and yes, going out of this place feels like something that could help him breathe more deeply.
He stands up and straightens his tunic.
“You Lans, how do you make everything look so graceful? Is it genetic? Do you train for it?”
Lan Wangji is starting to consider the question before he realizes that Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to expect an answer, and is already turning on his heel and heading to the door opposite the hall exit.
Wei Wuxian leads them through a couple of empty meeting rooms and more corridors and Lan Wangji wants to ask him how he is so familiar with the layout of the place.
Instead he just follows along, his same song still playing in their shared airpods, until they reach a double glass door on the back of what looks like a study room.
The door leads outside to the back gardens of the building and Wei Wuxian moves to walk beside him. Lan Wangji takes a moment to take a deep inhale. The air is crisp and the only sounds are the birds and the far away hum of the city cars. Yes, much better.
“My shijie showed me this place,” he says, leading them to a small path hidden in between a bamboo grove, “apparently it was a wedding present from the peacock”. Wei Wuxian must see something on his face because he adds “Jin Zixuan. She married into the Jin family.”
Oh, right. Lan Wangji remembers that there was a wedding, that he miraculously was excused from attending.
They reach the end of the path and the bamboo grove opens up in a small meadow, at the center of which there is a lotus pond.
It’s beautiful. The edges are lined with reeds and there is a small pavilion in the center, connected to the shore by a thin stone bridge.
“Do you like it?” Wei Wuxian asks, looking at him and clearly waiting for a response.
Lan Wangji nods again, feeling a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Wei Wuxian’s face opens up in another bright smile.
“Let’s go sit in the pavilion!” he says, before skipping forward, grazing the reeds as he goes. Lan Wangji looks at him for a second and follows with measured steps.
There is a low table with a couple of seating pillows and Wei Wuxian throws himself on one, sitting and stretching his arms up and behind him with a groan. “Damn, these things always go on for ages, the binder is killing my back.” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders before leaning his elbows on the table and putting his chin in his hands.
Lan Wangji seats down in front of him, taking out his airpod and extending a hand. Wei Wuxian gives the other airpod back without missing a beat and asks “Do you have your guqin with you? Maybe you can play the song here. I’m sure the lotus pods will appreciate it.”
That’s a nice idea. Playing always helps him feel better and here, far away from the coldness of the building, he can almost pretend to be somewhere else. And playing means he doesn’t have to try to talk soon.
He puts away the airpods and pulls Wangji from the qiankun bag.
Wei Wuxian sits up to leave him space on the table, leaning back on his hands and looking around while Lan Wangji checks the tuning and starts playing.
The feeling of the strings under his fingers is like a soothing caress on his soul and he gets lost in playing, focusing on the fine details of the execution, the smooth slides between notes and the most elusive harmonics.
He plays the song three times and when he stops the strings with his palms and looks up, Wei Wuxian is sprawled on the floor of the pavilion and he’s drawing in a sketchbook. He notices the silence after a beat and puts down his brush pen and looks up at Lan Wangji softly.
“Thank you for playing, that was incredible.”
“Thank you for showing me this place.”
Lan Wangji’s own words take him by surprise, his voice is still thin but he didn’t have to force them out.
Wei Wuxian laughs like silver bells “Great! I’m happy that it helped.” He gestures at his sketchbook “Do you want to see?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and rises back up to the table, sliding the black-bound book towards him.
Lan Wangji looks down at the page and his mouth parts in surprise. The drawing is dynamic, fast strokes of ink racing each other across the page. There he is, playing, framed by the pavilion, with lotus leaves and pods poking from the bottom edge.
“When I really want to listen to something, I have to draw, it helps me concentrate better,” Wei Wuxian explains.
Lan Wangji has never had someone draw him before and he is feeling intensely seen, but in a way that doesn’t make him uncomfortable. There is something in the way the ink lines become gentler when defining his figure, in contrast with the lines of the pavilion and lotus plants, that makes his face feel soft.
“This is very beautiful, thank you.” His voice feels normal now, vibrating in his chest.
“The subject was beautiful.” Wei Wuxian winks.
Ah yes, still shameless.
But not a stranger anymore.