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“This village really has everything,” Wei Wuxian says in between bites of jianbing, “Great food, lots of greenery, the people are all nice—we could live here, even!”
Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate to ask, “Do you want to?”
Wei Wuxian laughs goodnaturedly, “What? Live here? Hanguang-jun, after so many decades by each other's sides you still haven’t learned to take a joke.”
“Are you joking?” Lan Wangji asks.
Wei Wuxian pauses tearing off a piece of jianbing to think.
“I think so. Well, it wouldn’t be so bad though, right? It really is so lovely here.”
“You have hesitations.”
“Of course,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “After living so many places for no more than a handful of years a time, I’ve settled down in Cloud Recesses for—how long, even?”
“Thirty-four years,” Lan Wangji supplies.
Lan Wangji, of course, does not look like he is in his sixties due to his high cultivation, but he does have a very sexy dusting of gray around his temple that Wei Wuxian treasures. Thankfully, Wei Wuxian has worked hard to improve Mo Xuanyu’s core over the decades, and so he hardly looks older than his husband at all. They would look the same age, but Wei Wuxian’s face has creased with smile lines whereas Lan Wangji’s face is nearly as smooth as it was in his youth.
“Thirty-four years… I mean, I was only in Lotus Pier for eleven! To leave Cloud Recesses now feels a bit odd, doesn’t it?”
“We are still in Gusu,” Lan Wangji points out.
“Right, so visiting wouldn’t be much of a fuss… I suppose we could live here half the year and in Cloud Recesses the other half… Aiya, what are we doing? Hanguang-jun, do you really want to live in this little town?”
“It could be nice,” Lan Wangji admits.
Wei Wuxian squints at him, “Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you think I want to? No, no, what am I saying, of course you wouldn’t lie about such a thing…”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says fondly, and Wei Wuxian feels himself melt. So many years together and he still makes me feel so strongly…
Wei Wuxian reaches for Lan Wangji’s face, only for his wrist to be caught in his husband’s firm grasp.
“Greasy,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian is reminded of the unfinished jianbing still clutched in his other hand.
“Hmm, why don’t you clean me up?” Wei Wuxian teases, stretching his fingers in front of Lan Wangji’s gaze. His eyes darken almost instantly.
The conversation will have to wait for another day.
Three weeks later, when Wei Wuxian is poking at the sweet potato plants growing behind the jingshi, he suddenly muses, “If we got a little farm, we would have room to grow more vegetables.”
Lan Wangji pauses strumming his qin.
“Poking the sweet potatoes will not affect their growth,” Lan Wangji says.
“You don’t know that,” Wei Wuxian complains.
“Would you like to return to the village to look for a property?”
Wei Wuxian gives the leafy top of the potato plant in front of him another poke for good measure.
“You know… I think I would like that very much, Hanguang-jun.”
There is a cottage on the outskirts of the village, a little worse for wear but with rich soil and a smattering of magnolia trees surrounding it. It’s theirs now.
Wei Wuxian knocks on the side of the cottage and feels satisfied at the sturdy sound it makes.
“Hmm… A little weeding and some hammering and it’ll be good as new,” Wei Wuxian says confidently.
He leans into his husband’s side, pressing his cheek to Lan Wangji’s shoulder as he nuzzles the top of his head.
“We have a farm,” Wei Wuxian says softly, feeling oddly choked up.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji answers, muffled by Wei Wuxian’s hair.
Wei Wuxian pulls back to kiss him slowly. It’s not heated at all, but it is long and a tad messy. He thinks Lan Wangji has certainly gotten better at kissing in all the years they’ve been together, and he was already pretty amazing to start with.
“Why don’t I chop some wood and till the ground while you clean up a bit inside?” Wei Wuxian suggests.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Bring the wood as soon as you’re done. I bought ingredients in town; I’ll cook the fish soup that you like.”
“Aiya, you spoil me,” Wei Wuxian complains affectionately. “A man as pretty as you should really be the one getting spoiled, not me.”
“You are very pretty,” Lan Wangji says seriously. “And it is not spoiling to cook for my husband who will spend the day working on our farm.”
“Our farm,” Wei Wuxian says dreamily.
“Yes,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Ours.”
Wei Wuxian chops enough wood for cooking and bathing that night and gets rewarded with a very nice kiss when he drops it all off in the kitchen. Though he finds himself not wanting to part from Lan Wangji and the kitchen that has already started to smell of herbs, he goes back out into the sun to rip out weeds and till a portion of the land. Sweat drips down his back despite the cool weather.
His thoughts wander as he works to everything and nothing; he thinks of where would be a good place to practice his sword forms in the morning, he thinks of his son who has not been a child in a long time, he thinks of what seeds he should buy next time they’re in town, he thinks of his husband inside making soup spicier than he would prefer even though Wei Wuxian tells him he doesn’t need to.
When he feels he’s made good progress and the scent from the cottage becomes irresistible, he leans his tools against the house and makes his way inside.
“Er-gege, I’m back!”
Wei Wuxian will never tire of the way Lan Wangji’s eyes soften when he greets him.
Lan Wangji moves to pour him a cup of water before Wei Wuxian can do it himself; he takes the cup earnestly before downing the contents in one go. He sets the cup back down, licking the drops of water that had fallen to the corners of his mouth.
Lan Wangji presents him with a small cloth.
“Mmm, I’m too tired, you’ll have to wipe my face for me,” Wei Wuxian whines. Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate to comply, tenderly wiping away both the drops of water and the dirt from the day spent outside.
“Are you hungry?” Lan Wangji asks when he’s done.
“Mn!” Wei Wuxian replies eagerly.
They eat dinner in silence, Lan Wangji adhering to the rules of their sect and Wei Wuxian too hungry to do anything other than eat. Despite this, their hands remain connected the whole time, fingers loosely threaded together and giving little squeezes.
“How did a member of the gentry learn to cook so well?” Wei Wuxian sighs, pushing away his now empty bowl.
“I have had lots of practice cooking for my husband,” Lan Wangji answers. Wei Wuxian smiles.
“Er-gege,” he drawls, “I think it’s time for a bath.”
“I will draw one for you,” Lan Wangji replies.
“For us,” Wei Wuxian corrects.
Lying in their new bed that night, Wei Wuxian sighs sleepily into his husband’s bare shoulder, “I think this life suits us, er-gege.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies in the relaxing sound of the cricket-filled night, “I believe it does.”