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Something awful was burning.The strong smell was the first thing Lan Wangji noticed as he woke up. Perhaps it had penetrated his dreams and woken him up; his mind could still feel the after-image of his dream, and the smell lingered there, too. It reminded him of the time some young disciples snuck into the kitchens after curfew and burnt an entire week’s worth of scrambled eggs. He rose to investigate the source of the smell, pausing only to pull on an additional robe. The Jingshi was colder than usual, and the weak light filtering in the through windows suggested that an overcast day awaited him outside.
A brief survey of his residence uncovered the culprit. Near the window, a pot of incense smoked gently. The odor was so overwhelming it stung at his eyes and clung to the back of his throat.
Lan Wangji picked up the offending pot and was at the door in a matter of moments. He opened the doors of the Jingshi and was greeted by a wall of white. At first he had the impression of a heavy snowfall, but then he realized that it was fog. To say that it was foggy this morning would have been a grievous understatement. The fog almost had a solid quality. There was opaqueness to it that diffused the dawn light until the source seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. Lan Wangji could barely see the bamboo pavilion that led up to the courtyard. He could perhaps make out the dim light of lanterns glowing weakly in the distance, but as soon as he focused on one it disappeared. It was odd. Not that fog was unusual; wind often swept clouds up the mountain. Younger disciples had gotten lost more than once when visibility was particularly low, but this was perhaps the densest fog Lan Wangji had seen in years. And for Cloud Recesses to have so much of it during this time of the season was peculiar as well.
He deposited the incense pot on the porch and closed the doors of the Jingshi. A few wisps of fog, now severed from their source, danced across the dark wood floors and slowly faded away.
He was halfway into the main room when he stopped mid-stride.
He did not remember lighting that particular pot of incense. He was not in the habit of lighting incense while sleeping.
He was not alone.
Someone else had also spent the night here. A few flickering candles illuminated a familiar figure dressed in black and red robes hunched over a low desk with several pieces of talisman paper scattered around him. Wei Wuxian was apparently deep in concentration as he drew strokes on a talisman.
"Wei Ying," his voice was rougher than he expected.
Wei Wuxian looked up at him.
"Lan Zhan! You're up! Is it, oh gods, is it morning already?" Wei Wuxian didn't even glance at the window before pinning him in place with a smile. "It looks too foggy to go out right now, so I guess you'll just have to stay in with me!" He absent-mindedly used the handle of his inkbrush to scratch behind his ear.
Lan Wangji blinked. "You....are here. I did not think you would--that is, I-" he cursed his sudden inability to form coherent sentences. He settled for silence and an expression that he hoped Wei Wuxian would interpret as “I am confused as to why you are here, but am nonetheless exceptionally pleased about it.”
He tried to remember the events immediately preceding their arrival in Gusu. He had been following Wei Wuxian to Qishan, that’s for certain. Lan Wangji could feel his brows knit together as he focused on recalling the previous few days. There was….a battle. The clanging of swords meeting in conflict echoed in his mind. He had fought to protect Wei Wuxian, which was not surprising. And now they were both back at his home in Cloud Recesses, which was surprising. Qishan was quite the distance from Gusu. His memory of their retreat back to Cloud Recesses was blurry, most likely obscured by the haze of trauma and exhaustion.
Relief flooded him as he realized that he succeeded in bringing Wei Wuxian here, to his home, where he could be safe.
“I will make some tea,” he managed, eventually.
Lan Wangji rummaged in a few drawers and produced a small dark blue teapot with matching cups, a jar of tea leaves, and some dried fruit. Wei Wuxian lit some candles before joining him at the table. He pushed his portion of dried fruits over to Wei Wuxian. The tea had too much of a medicinal aftertaste, even for Lan standards, and was quickly abandoned.
“Wei Ying, why are you he-” Lan Wangji began to ask, but Wei Wuxian cut him off.
“Oh, I think I heard the food delivery arrive. I’ll go get it!”
He returned a moment later with a tray.
They divided up the meal. If Wei Wuxian had also noticed that there were two sets of bowls and utensils, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything when they discovered the food was cold, nor did he make any disparaging comments about the blandness of the food like he had in the past. Wei Wuxian, of course, continued to talk throughout the entire meal, despite Lan Wangji’s half-hearted admonishment to the contrary. He just talked about anything and everything except the events at Nightless City. He lithely danced around the topic anytime the conversation threatened to move into more painful territory. Bathed in the warm light of the candles, they slipped into a familiar pattern; Wei Wuxian happily and Lan Wangji happily just being. But through it all, uneasiness rattled through him like a restless spirit.
Lan Wangji decisively set his empty bowl aside and rose from the table.
“I must go,” he said, putting on his boots.
He heard Wei Wuxian scrambling to get up and rush to his side.
“You can’t go out! You can barely see an inch in front of your face!” he gestured dramatically to the thick fog revealed by the now open door of the Jingshi.
“If it is enough for the kitchens to deliver meals, then it is enough for me to go out, “ Lan Wangji said. He turned away and lifted Bichen from its holder near the door.
Wei Wuxian’s hand grasped his wrist.
“Stay?” His eyes were wide and pleading. He looked… vulnerable. It gripped at Lan Wangji’s heart. . “Just a little while longer?”
Helpless to resist, Lan Wangji nodded. Wei Wuxian smiled. He was still holding on to his wrist.
“Lan Zhan, why don’t you play me something on your guqin? I’ll even let you play Cleansing! Just….don’t go yet.”
Lan Wangji slid the doors shut then turned to the low table where his guqin lay. Wei Wuxian bounded over and sat next to it. It had been too long since he had played. He allowed muscle memory to take over, welcoming the ease in which he performed the familiar movements: tuning, the feel of strings beneath his fingertips, how the vibrations stilled with a gentle touch.
He played Cleansing, and then afterwards slipped into another traditional guqin composition with a gentle and slow melody. He allowed the reverberations of the last notes to linger in the air.
“Don’t you have anything peppier, Lan Zhan? All you play is Cleansing or Clarity or Rest or Sanitation or Laundry or whatever boring song passes as entertainment for Lans. “ Wei Wuxian leaned forward on his knees and mock pouts.
Lan Wangji quirked one eyebrow at him and plucked out the melody of a bawdy folk song he heard in an inn once. He watched as Wei Wuxian’s expressions travelled from confusion to shock to ecstatic disbelief and finally settled on gleeful amusement. He threw his whole body into his laugh, clutching his ribs, shoulders shaking, entirely lost in mirth.
Lan Wangji’s insides bloomed with warmth like he had just taken a sip of hot tea after being outside for too long in winter. This must be what love is like, he thought to himself. The intensity of the emotion made his head swim. Had anyone else ever lived whose laugh was as pure as his, as clear and rippling as the streams that flowed down the mountain? Surely if there had, there would be poems and calligraphy dedicated to them. Composers would have created melodies that attempted to capture that sound. Lan Wangji already had.
He placed his fingers on the strings once more and the first notes of the song that he wrote with his heart as full of love and fondness and want as it was right then rang out into the cool air of the Jingshi. In the back of his mind he was aware of the sheet music tucked away into a drawer in this very room. He had never been good with words. They clumped up in his mouth and stiffened his tongue. He had always been praised as such a quiet, obedient boy, so what did it matter, anyway? But music was different. He could hear the key a particularly stunning sunset would be played in. When language failed him, he could pour his thoughts and feelings into the conduits of his hands until they transformed into a harmony plucked onto his guqin.
At the sound of the familiar melody, Wei Wuxian took a few deep breaths and wiped the tears from where they threatened to spill down his face. His hand moved to pull out Chenqing from its usual place on his hip, but his fingers closed around nothing but air. It occurred to Lan Wangji that without his sword or his spiritual weapon, he was functionally defenseless. For whatever reason he refused to carry Suibian and had now lost Chenqing? The small ember within his own chest that was a constant reminder to protect Wei Wuxian burst into a furnace-hot flame.
Yes, he would protect Wei Ying. If that meant eating cold rice in the Jingshi for the foreseeable future, that is what he would do.
~
Even though it must have only been the early afternoon, he felt his eyes begin to strain in the dim light. One of the candles had begun to sputter. He lit a few more, making a note to request more from the sect’s supplier once it was clear enough to leave the Jingshi. Although, if Wei Wuxian was comfortable enough to stay inside, Lan Wangji might never leave the house again. He would gladly trade the gentle caress of the breeze for a brush of Wei Wuxian’s fingers; he would gladly trade the expanse of the night sky for the privilege of being the subject of Wei Wuxian’s attention. He would allow Wei Wuxian to break any rule he wanted, and maybe even break a few himself.
After all, what’s a few more shattered precepts on top of the ones he had piled on top of himself at Nightless City? He had turned Bichen against his fellow cultivators to protect the Yiling Patriarch. The memories of after the battle were as difficult to grasp as the fog that currently engulfed them, but he knew he had protected Wei Ying because he would always protect Wei Ying. It was as much a part of his entity as his compulsion to rise at five in the morning and to rest at nine in the evening.
The smell of acrid smoke reached him; the flickering candle had finally extinguished itself.
That night Lan Wangji dreamt of a battle. Dark roiling clouds of resentful energy accompanied the discordant shriek of an unfamiliar dizi. He felt the hot blood on his hands as a wound on his arm gushed, slickening his hand and loosening his grip. His stomach constricted with a rush of adrenaline and fear at the sight of a bloody blade--
He awoke, disoriented. A cluster of candles against the window threw shadows that danced across the ceiling. A phantom pain in his arm lingered as the panic of the dream dissipated. He willed his heart rate to slow while he gasped for air. Only after the sickening feeling of vertigo had passed did he realize that there was the comforting grip of a hand on his shoulder.
Wei Ying.
Of course Wei Ying was here and not---
"Hey, you're awake, " Wei Wuxian said softly. He sat upright on the bed, on top of the sheets. His thumb gently stroked his shoulder.
Lan Wangji tried not to think about it, but the only thing he could hear was their shared breaths and the quiet susurration of Wei Ying's thumb over the fabric of his nightshirt.
"I was dreaming we were back at Nightless City," Lan Wangji said shakily. "You were--"
"Aiya, there's no need to think about that. We're here now. Why don't you get dressed and I'll get some tea started? Go on!" Wei Wuxian all but pushed him out of the bed.
"Did you not sleep?" Lan Wangji asked, shooting a judgemental look at Wei Wuxian's crumpled robes from the day before. He shrugged on his own day robe.
"A little bit! You know me, no sleep schedule to speak of whatsoever!" He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back, apparently in no hurry to get up.
Something light and fluttering tickled the inside of Lan Wangji’s heart at the sight of Wei Wuxian comfortably lounging on his bed. The soft candlelight mercifully hid the flush blossoming across his face.
The fog was still unrelentingly thick outside, but inside, something had changed between the two of them. Some boundary crossed that they hadn't quite realized was there. Maybe it was the bond of shared trauma. Maybe it was chastely sharing a bed for the first time, becoming used to the unfamiliar weight on the other side of the mattress and the soft sounds of breaths.
Some measure of time passed. The exact amount was immaterial to Lan Wangji. All he knew was that candles were lit, candles burnt out, and Wei Ying was there. In the mornings Lan Wangji would brush his hair and help him tie his red ribbon. They would meditate together. Well, Lan Wangji would meditate. Wei Wuxian would drift off or quietly fidget with something or other when he thought Lan Wangji wouldn't notice. They would eat the bland food of Gusu for dinner while Wei Wuxian talked about an idea for a new talisman or how he’d rather be having his sister’s soup, and relentlessly teased him for keeping to the strict Gusu Lan principles even when they were alone. Lan Wangji always ate in silence, soaking up the warmth of Wei Wuxian's presence. The crinkle of his eyes as he smiled was more filling than the rice, the sound of his laugh more refreshing than the tea.
Lan Wangji emerged from behind the privacy screen after his morning ablutions to find Wei Wuxian setting the table for breakfast, having once again intercepted the food delivery. He opened the lid of the entree container and crinkled his nose in disgust.
“Oh, it’s burnt! How did they manage to burn cold vegetables?” Wei Wuxian shook his head and checked the rest of the food. He lifted a single blackened snow pea out of a bowl then dropped it back in and replaced the lid. “It’s all charred. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.” He glanced at Lan Wangji, and then away again. For a split second he seemed to stare far away, but then quickly schooled his expression and blew a few strands of hair out of his face.
“Don’t be sorry,” Lan Wangji replied. “I will have a word with the kitchens, later.”
It was highly irregular for the kitchens to serve inedible food, especially to a member of the Sect Leader’s family. Something was happening out there. Something beyond the fog was happening and he was powerless to stop it. Suspicion curled like smoke in the back of his mind.
“If I don’t go out soon, my brother will come looking for me,” Lan Wangji says. “Don’t be concerned. He would not harm you.” I won’t let him hurt you goes unsaid.
“I’m not... “ Wei Wuxian began, then trailed off. He wandered over to the window and lit a new candle from the wick of a dying one. “How many more of these do we have left?”
“We will run out tonight.”
~
Night descended upon the Jingshi. The permanently faint light slowly waned until no light or sound from the outside penetrated the room. Lan Wangji sat at his guqin, needlessly tuning the already perfectly in-tune strings. Wei Wuxian sat down across from him again, one side of his face cast in shadow.
“Play for me again?” he asked softly.
Lan Wangji made a small noise of assent, then began to play. Again, he played his song. Their song. He felt every rise and fall of the notes, every crescendo and rest. In his mind’s eye, he sees Wei Wuxian fighting on the rooftops of Cloud Recesses, laughing in white disciples’ robes. They are in the Cold Pond Cave. He is teasing him in the Xuanwu cave, tending to his wound. They are talking about being zhiji during the group hunt. He is watching him ride away on a horse. It’s raining. He is calling his name while a small child clings to his leg.
The song ended and Lan Wangji looked up to find Wei Wuxian now at his side. Only the soft crackling of wicks disturbed the otherwise still air. He reached out and touched Lan Wangji's wrist where it rested on the guqin stand.
Lan Wangji stared at it, physically willed himself not to blush, and waited for him to speak.
"Lan Zhan, when did you first know you loved me?"
He froze like a rabbit spotted by a hawk. In the end, was he really so obvious? He stared down at Wei Wuxian’s hand on his wrist, afraid to look anywhere else. Surely the candles had consumed all the air in the room because none of it was in his lungs at the moment.
Wei Wuxian waited a beat until it became apparent Lan Wangji was not going to reply, then continued, "I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you. Well, maybe not the first moment. But definitely from that first night. On the rooftops. Even if you did make me drop my alcohol!" He squeezed his wrist twice which caused his stomach to swoop. “I just didn’t know it yet.”
There was no getting out of this, no deflection, no answering a slightly different question. He couldn't ignore him, not when he was looking at him with big dark eyes and had just said he loved him.
A deep breath. Then, "the lantern festival."
There, it was out in the open. He held his breath, unsure of what was going to happen next. His heart hammered in his chest.
"I made you smile", Wei Wuxian said, wistful reminiscence in his voice. His fingers slid down Lan Wangji's wrist to curl around the back of his hand. Two squeezes again.
"Yes", Lan Wangji breathed, exhaling finally.
"I can't believe it took all of this," he waves one hand in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture, "for me to realize that."
They were sitting face to face now. When did they move? He didn't remember moving, but then again, moving toward Wei Ying was a well-worn path.
“Wei Ying,” he said, because it was the only thing he could say. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand, then pulled the ribbon from his head and wound it around their wrists. “Wei Ying, when this is over, I want to be with you.”
“Lan Zhan! You-” he looked for a moment as if he was about to cry, but then leaned forward and flung his free arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck. He mumbled something that Lan Wangji couldn’t quite make out.
Lan Wangji made a questioning noise.
“You know, Lan Zhan, we’ve technically already bowed to your ancestors,” he said, voice muffled against his neck.
Lan Wangji nods. "When the fog lifts, we will bow to your ancestors, too."
Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh and Lan Wangji feels the vibrations against his chest. " I'm sorry for laughing, but I'm just imagining the look on your uncle's face if I poured him tea! Do you think he'd let me call him Uncle? Oh, shijie will be so happy…”
Lan Wangji intertwined his fingers with Wei Wuxian's. If Wei Wuxian wanted to talk about his sister, Lan Wangji would listen. He would always listen to Wei Ying. The mourning of a sibling is not an easy path, and his heart ached at the grief that lay ahead for Wei Wuxian. He spared one moment to imagine if it was his own brother who died, but then intentionally brought himself back into the moment. No need to ponder painful possibilities when Wei Ying was here in his arms.
They moved to be face to face, noses almost touching. Wei Wuxian's eyes were glistening, as he knew his own were. It was too easy to close the distance, to tilt their heads and brush their lips together. Lan Wangji’s spine simultaneously liquified and turned to stone. He had the unique sensation of flying and falling at the same time, but grounded himself in the fact that Wei Ying was here and close and kissing him.
The light in the Jingshi dimmed as another candle winked out, the afterburn of the wick a deep orange like a hot branding iron. Only a few shrinking candles remained. Their warm light neutralized the usual icy blue of the Jingshi’s interior.
Lan Wangji caressed Wei Wuxian's back and shoulders, cataloguing the feel of his robes with a gentle touch and revelling in the fact that he was allowed to do so. That Wei Ying wanted him to do so. Lan Wangji had wanted this, even before he knew it himself. He, the Second Jade of Lan, had yearned for this boy from Yunmeng. This boy who was chaotic and kind and brilliant and bold and terrible.
He slightly adjusted the arm tied to Wei Wuxian's just to feel the ribbon's tug of resistance. A reminder. Lan Wangji sighed softly, cherishing the shift from wanting to having. Like changing from cold wet robes into warm dry ones. No, better. Like a warm greeting from a loved one. No, better still.
Wei Wuxian rested his head on Lan Wangji's shoulder while gently combing his fingers through the ends of his hair. Lan Wangji gave in to his long-lived desire to touch Wei Wuxian's skin and allowed his hand to seek the warmth of his neck underneath his hair. Lan Wangji explored the wispy baby hairs at his nape, but it was a few moments before he parsed what was wrong with the sensation in his fingertips.
There should be lovely heat and perhaps slightly sweat-damp skin. But there was none.
Wei Wuxian was cold.
Lan Wangji’s breath left in a rush as he clutched him impossibly tighter.
Had he truly not noticed this before? Or had he just refused to acknowledge it? Because Wei Ying was here with him, vibrant and alive and--
Those silky black wisps of unease that had haunted him coalesced into a cold certainty. His skin erupted into gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as tendrils of ice seized him.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said softly. “We did not survive the battle at Nightless City.”
They separated and leaned back until they were face to face, although it was too dark to see clearly. Wei Wuxian placed a gentle hand along Lan Wangji’s jaw.
“No,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Well, I know I didn’t. It took you long enough to figure it out, though.” He said it so casually, as if the gravitational pull of Lan Wangji's very existence hadn't just been irrevocably destroyed. The room seemed to expand and shrink simultaneously.
He gripped Wei Ying’s hand tighter. “I’ve been dreaming of a cliff, of holding on to you. And then Sect Leader Jiang…” his throat tightened at the thought.
“Ah Lan Zhan, you mustn't blame Jiang Cheng. I was dead long before that.”
“Wei Ying.” Hearing him say it out loud was the hundredth blow that unleashed a flood of memories. Back at Nightless City he had tried to stop Wei Ying from falling, had steadfastly refused to let go of him even as he begged to let go. The phantom pain in his arm reappeared, a searing slash through his flesh, as did the sulfuric air that was ever present in Nightless City. Then Jiang Wanyin had struck the edge of the cliff with his sword. Lan Wangji felt more than heard the crust of the overhanging rock crack and shudder beneath him. Wei Wuxian tried to shake off his grasp, always self-sacrificing, even to the end. But Lan Wangji never let go, and they both fell.
“I wasn’t as strong as I once was, Lan Zhan. I was struck by an arrow before you got there. The resentful energy sustained me, if only for a while. Imagine if everyone had truly known what they were seeing:The Yiling Patriarch, reanimating his own corpse, defeated by a mundane arrow! But I was so tired...I’m so tired.”
Lan Wangji could only see the tiny reflection of the last candle glinting in Wei Ying’s eyes.
“You’re the strongest cultivator of our generation, Lan Zhan. It would take more than a tumble off a cliff to kill you, yeah? I think you’ll be okay. I’m not completely sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say you are back at home in Cloud Recesses, recovering.”
Lan Wangji felt Wei Wuxian’s eyes on him through the rapidly advancing darkness. He could no longer make out the finer details of his face or the warm tones of his skin.
“I will find you, Lan Zhan, in whatever comes after. Maybe again in this life, maybe in the next. But I will find you, Lan Zhan.” He felt Wei Wuxian’s cool breath on his face as the final candle began to sputter. "Lan Zhan, I'm glad that the last thing my eyes saw was you, Hanguang-jun."
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji choked out, incapable of anything else.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighed, and Lan Wangji felt the soft press of lips against his own in the moment before the candle’s flame succumbed to smoke.
A week after the Yiling Patriarch was defeated at Nightless City, Lan Wangji awoke in the Jingshi, alone.
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