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Wei Ying had a tendency to be… dramatic.
He was among the visiting teenage cultivators at Cloud Recesses for the lectures, and immediately, he had complaints. Complaints he directed at Lan Zhan. Frequently. Loudly. And without ceasing.
Aaaah, Lan Zhan, how do you eat this every day?
Er-gege. Er-gege! Why aren’t you listening to me?
Lan Zhan! What do you mean there’s no signal on Cloud Recesses?
And it went on. And on. And on. At first, Lan Zhan would often take his dramatics seriously. Wei Wuxian often told the truth and made it sound like a lie or told a lie that sounded like the truth. Somehow, Jiang Cheng always knew which was which, but Lan Zhan was not in the habit of saying anything other than what he meant.
(Worst than all the dramatics about life in the Cloud Recesses was whenever Wei Ying talked about him. Or their relationship.
Lan Zhan, you’re the best! Er-gege, you’re as pretty as the moon. Aiiii, how is it fair that a single cultivator can be both handsome and talented. Lan Zhan, should we call you Hanguang-Jun for always bringing light to my chaos?
It was insufferable. All falsehoods. Lan Zhan desperately wished it to be otherwise.)
Although it was only the beginning of December, snow had fallen over the Cloud Recesses overnight. It was colder in the mountains, after all, but Lan Zhan was used to it. He had been raised amidst the cold, and sometimes he felt like he too had turned into ice. No longer the happy, round child making snow angels with his mother and brother.
He inhaled, taking in the crisp, cold air. It was bracing, vanishing any remaining vestiges of sleep. Lan Zhan’s eyes fell shut, momentarily enjoying the peace and quiet of his home —
“Lan Zhaaaaaan,” a familiar voice cried out. Well, there went his peace and quiet.
Lan Zhan opened his eyes just as Wei Ying flew at him, looping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, teeth chattering. “Lan Zhaaaan. I’m so cold! It doesn’t get cold like this in Yunmeng. Look, my hands are freezing!”
He pressed his palm to Lan Zhan’s cheek. It was icy cold, and Lan Zhan resisted the urge to turn a fraction of an inch and bite that hand. Instead, he simply pushed Wei Ying off, almost instantly missing the warmth of his body.
“We are cultivators,” Lan Zhan sighed. “Regulate your internal temperature.”
“But I’m no good at that,” Wei Ying complained, shoulders brushing his and they began to walk towards class. “I only get too hot or too cold.”
“Then practice,” Lan Zhan was unmoving. Besides, if he really couldn’t regulate his temperature, then he could simply wear a coat and scarf. Wei Ying was simply being dramatic as usual, and just as he had with the food or the lack of signal, he would adjust to life in Gusu Lan.
***
Only… he didn’t.
While most cultivators were adept at regulating their body temperature and continued to wear just the white disciple uniform, Wei Ying was always bundled up and still complaining about the cold. He would cling to Lan Zhan between classes until he was pushed off. Then he would turn back to his usual target: his siblings.
“Poor A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli once said, pursing her lips. “He really can’t stand the cold at all.”
“Is it very warm in Yunmeng?” Lan Zhan wondered.
“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “It doesn’t even snow in Yunmeng!”
Part of Wei Ying being cold was clearly his own fault. If he simply stayed inside except when he had to, surely his hands wouldn’t be ice-cold all the time. But he delighted in the snow, jumping into piles, starting up snowball fights with the other disciples, and watching wide-eyed whenever it fell from the sky.
Absolutely infuriating.
“Lan Zhan!” The very voice came from behind him, and he turned around to find Wei Ying lying back in the snow, sweeping his arm back and forth into angels. “Look!”
“You’ll catch a cold,” said Lan Zhan, aghast.
“No, I won’t!” Wei Ying’s teeth were only chattering, but he remained in the snow, flushed and beautiful. “Come on! Join me.” When Lan Zhan didn’t move an inch, he added with a wheedle, “I’ll get up if you join me.”
He sighed, but of course, he did. Lan Zhan had done nothing like this since he was a child, but he carefully lied down next to Wei Ying, with just enough distance that their fingertips touched if they both spread their arms out. Snow angel distance, his mother called it. So the snow angels would be holding hands.
“Isn’t this nice, er-gege?” Wei Ying sighed, gaze on the heavy gray clouds overhead. “Snow is so pretty. You know, it doesn’t snow in Yunmeng.”
“Mn.”
“We’ll see each other after this is all over, right?” Wei Ying asked, glancing anxiously back at him. “You’ll text? Or email I guess, haha.”
Lan Zhan nodded after a pause. “There are discussion conferences.”
“Right!” Wei Ying brightened. “I’ll see you at those! Oh, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan.” He suddenly fell silent at that, prompting Lan Zhan to glance over. “We’ll be friends forever, won’t we?”
The prospect was as thrilling as it was disappointing. He couldn’t explain either “Mn.”
***
“Er-gege,” Wei Ying whined a few weeks later. “When will it stop being so cold? It’s not even snowing today! My hands are freezing — “
Annoying, Lan Zhan grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Mn. There.”
“Aha!” Wei Ying’s eyes widened in panic. “Er-gege is so clever! Hahaha…”
Wei Ying chattered on, but Lan Zhan mostly ignored it, basking in the feeling of his hand closed over Wei Ying’s.