Chapter Text
Lan Wangji struck, and a tree parted in the middle, cleanly sliced through. Before it could fall, he pulled Wei Wuxian, at the moment trapped inside the body and behaviour of a lunatic while blissfully unaware he had long been recognised, out of the way.
Wei Wuxian’s whine mimicked a frightened maiden as Lan Wangji clutched his arm and pulled.
“Hanguang-Jun! Hanguang-Jun!” he wailed, “Where did it go? You have to protect me!”
Lan Wangji was almost one-hundred percent sure Wei Wuxian knew where it had gone, so he replied flatly, “Stay close by.”
Making sure he traversed the forest at a speed Wei Wuxian’s masquerade could keep up with, he chased after the spirit, lashing out at various trees. It was a quick spirit. If his mind didn’t play filthy tricks on him, he thought to spot a red ribbon drifting behind it.
Wei Wuxian kept calling his title, seeming to relish his role of the deranged. He sounded far too delighted to be hunting a creature, but it was still a meek spirit. Soon enough, Lan Wangji foresaw one of its moves, cutting its path with his sword and forcing it onto a clearing.
He was about to strike, when instead of bolting again, the spirit stopped – And nearly flashed him with lightning.
Awestruck, he came to a halt, unnoticeably tripping over his feet beneath the waving fabric of his robes. His eyes pinned to the creature, he couldn’t help but falter.
The ribbon drew streaks of scarlet ink against the black forest behind it, a face as pale as pure looking back at him, ghastly under the full moon’s stark white. Familiar features, displaced in fear, like Wei Wuxian’s child self saw itself be annihilated by his blade any moment now.
The illusion was so well-crafted – He couldn’t look anywhere else.
For a split second, he doubted.
If it had happened in any other night – Any other time – his mind may have sensed the hoax right away. But it had happened tonight, at this time, and Mo Xuanyu’s breath resounded heavily behind him.
Once he came to, which, in common perception of time, did not take longer than the blink of an eye, he raised his sword without a shiver to it.
As always, he gave a chance. “Why are you impersonating Wei Wuxian?”
Next to him, Wei Wuxian sputtered, his jaw falling open before he realised he wasn’t the one being talked to.
“Who?” he adjusted in an instance, “That’s not …”
He went oddly quiet, then side-eyed Lan Wangji from below. Lan Wangji had no time for it.
The spirit on the other end of the clearing, bearing Wei Wuxian’s crescent, silver eyes, carrying the burden of such effortless beauty, only pursed its pretty lips, in a manner that Wei Wuxian never would have used.
“Ah, lost love?” the spirit cooed in Wei Wuxian’s pitch, cocking its head to one side, in a manner that Wei Wuxian very much would have used.
It smirked victoriously, while Lan Wangji felt like he should have kept his mouth shut. In a heartbeat, he’d pulled his guqin, sending a minor strum towards the thing.
He recognised the spirit’s demeanour and abilities, now – He fought a qipianshi. It wouldn’t be more malicious than its costume, nor did it harbour any killing intent. But it could shapeshift, basing its impersonation on the viewer individually. Loving mischief and being curious as a toddler, the only danger it posed was that it loved unravelling secrets.
In the midst of fighting, Wei Wuxian called from the side, like he’d only just snapped out of his thoughts, “Hey, Hanguang-Jun, who did you see? Why?”
He sent out another blast, then turned his attention to the viewer at the side.
For he could neither say ‘you’ nor ‘Wei Wuxian’ as if he didn’t stand right in front of him, he responded, “It shows one the person they want to see,” before returning to the task at hand.
He left out that it showed the person one most desired to see; A desire that needed to be strong enough for the qipianshi to make it out among every other emotion crowding one’s mind.
“Why would you want to see Wei Wuxian?” the other asked, blunt as a bat, “Wait, is this a …”
Uncharacteristically, Mo Xuanyu didn’t say a word after that, keeping his silence even long after the spirit was gone. He must have recognised the being on his own, and for Wei Wuxian had been an alacritous and literate student, he must be familiar with the remaining details.
Lan Wangji didn’t mind, for Wei Wuxian knew of his feelings, but he could understand the heavy impact of being told straight to the face when Wei Wuxian might not have grasped all of it fully back then.
He only spoke up after they’d paced through the forest for at least half an hour, which appeared to be the time he’d taken to process what he’d heard.
“Woah, you really hated that guy, huh?”
Dumbfounded, Lan Wangji couldn’t help but turn his head over.
This wasn’t exactly among the responses he’d expected.
Wei Wuxian laughed, Mo Xuanyu’s features pulling into something that didn’t look suspicious enough to be a staged grin, “Or why did you want to see him so badly?”
Frowning his mild frown, Lan Wangji attempted to decipher whether Wei Wuxian was trying to keep his act up or if he really believed what he said. According to the genuine hurt written between the lines of that unfamiliar expression, the second option seemed more likely.
Apparently, Wei Wuxian hadn’t comprehended all that much back then. Or maybe he didn’t remember. For sure, he had little idea, which amounted to quite the weight on Lan Wangji’s shoulders.
He’d believed his Wei Ying had died with the knowledge that at least one person loved him. Even if pushed far to the back of his head, he’d thought it had been there. Yet, a Wei Wuxian that had just been offered a second chance on life now told him that he much rather thought Lan Wangji hated him so terribly.
Needless to say, none of this showed in his expression. He gazed ahead, his jaw held level and his spine straight.
“I did not.”
Wei Wuxian cracked an unreal laugh, “Well – You must have felt something towards him, if the spirit thought the sight would distract—”
He stopped as if he’d remembered something. Perhaps the peculiarity about the qipianshi’s method of determining who to impersonate.
Mo Xuanyu turned into a reserved presence for the rest of their walk. Actually, until they entered one of the flourishing inns in the nearest town, where they were pleaded to wait before they’d be shown to their rooms.
He fidgeted with his hands while standing beside Lan Wangji, more bustle around them emerging and subsiding when residents and staff recognised they had been blessed with the visit of rich people.
Lan Wangji paid generously, prompting the innkeeper to bow to him several times, each one executed with the same improper form, before he showed them to their room.
“May I suggest two rooms?” he even asked upon stopping before an oaken door, “Kindest gentlemen surely have no shortage of wealth to account, and you are lucky, there are two still free.”
“It is no issue,” Lan Wangji said, his mind replaying various nights in which he’d woken to the sound of someone jumping down from a second-floor window.
The innkeeper nodded. “Very well. If honoured cultivators need anything, you may notify personnel and it be brought to you immediately, free of charge. I will be able to make a living for many days thanks to your generosity.”
All of this conversation and praise passed without a single comment from Mo Xuanyu. Lan Wangji had a feeling this might become the first night the reincarnated Wei Wuxian would spend in his own bed.
While he still examined the room, slowly peeling his cloak off his shoulders, Wei Wuxian finally broke.
“Why did you tell me?” he asked, in a manner so pointedly calm it sounded false.
Lan Wangji let his eyes finish the job of tracing the bedposts, before he moved them to the other man. “What have I told you?”
The silence while he arranged his sword and guqin on a low table in the middle of the room emphasised the issue.
“Uh … Hanguang-Jun, if you need a moment – I can go ask the innkeeper for that other room. I'm sure you’ve paid enough for two, haven't you?”
Lan Wangji couldn’t explain the cunning satisfaction he felt when his eyes locked Mo Xuanyu’s in place. They were just so … silver. So unbearably silver.
“I do not,” he replied. “You will stay.”
Wei Wuxian didn’t move, not like he could. He had little to argue, as his play technically didn’t even allow for such a serious expression to cross his face.
Defeated, he lowered his head.
“As Hanguang-Jun wishes,” he muttered. “I shall sleep next to him.”
While Lan Wangji removed another layer of his robes, Wei Wuxian hadn’t yet moved away from the door.
“I … I hope I did not interfere in private matters.”
Lan Wangji looked at him again, as per proper conduct, his hands losing speed, yet not stilling.
“I appreciate the concern,” he said, before going on to prepare the bed.
A few days later, Wei Wuxian asked for his own room. As his overnight ventures had stopped, Lan Wangji had little reason to say no to him.
He’d made up his mind and expected something like this, but he knew he couldn’t rush. Wei Wuxian would need time.
During their pursuit of the rest of the raging arm’s body, they came across a ghosted village, where the resentment in the air clogged their noses so badly it couldn’t be ignored. As he passed through between huts and holey laundry that had been left outside, having regained most of his prior enthusiasm and carelessness, Wei Wuxian seemed to concentrate on a track he was following.
“Look at the fresh leaves, Lan Zhan,” he called. “Someone must have carried them in from the outside. Maybe they’re still here. We could find and question them about whether they’ve seen something suspicious.”
Lan Wangji fully ignored the use of his birth name, and he ignored it two more times while they traversed the grounds around the village.
One day later, Wei Wuxian went back to calling him by his title, like nothing had ever happened.
During their continued investigation, they didn’t once speak about the incident with the spirit again. Wei Wuxian might have forgotten about it, because his inhibitions about being close to Lan Wangji seemed to fade more with each day.
Whether it was using him as a support while pretending he couldn’t stand or telling the juniors Lan Wangji had gifted Little Apple to him, Wei Wuxian displayed his most shameless behaviour, and he probably felt encouraged when Lan Wangji didn’t reprimand him.
In the safety of another’s identity, he didn’t think he needed to fear for unwanted devotion, Lan Wangji supposed.
One time, when they had somehow ended up on a roof Lan Wangji couldn’t remember he’d climbed – He strongly suspected there may be alcohol involved, because his mood had become so loose it became hard to contain his thoughts – Wei Wuxian asked.
“Hanguang-Jun – You know, you’re such a righteous man and all. Yet, you drink with me when you become like this after you’re drunk, and you allow me to do all this stuff to you. Why?”
Lan Wangji didn’t remember to have condoned the drinking, but that was probably not a matter of concern. He also didn’t remember what had happened five minutes ago.
He adjusted his position on the roof, letting his gaze sweep over the moonlit city below.
The alleys had turned quiet and life had moved inside, where lights flickered and the faint voices of nearby inn residents sounded moderated from their open windows. He didn’t want to disrupt the quiet, for he rarely got to enjoy the mere simplicity of Wei Wuxian’s presence next to him to its full extent.
It was more than he could wish for, more than he should allow himself to indulge in. But what could he say. Wei Wuxian soared above rules and order.
From the corner of his eye, Lan Wangji saw him rest his chin in his palms, elbows supported on his thighs as he, too, gazed upon the far city below. His sigh rose over the whisper of the wind, a noise of defeat and resignation.
“Lan Zhan …” he mumbled, “I really can’t help it. I just … forget a lot of things. Bear with me, okay?”
Lan Wangji turned his head. He no longer heard a lunatic speaking.
Wei Wuxian looked ahead, his eyes lost somewhere within distant, scattered mountains.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolded, glancing over, “You knew all along. But Second Master Lan couldn’t be bothered to tell me my act lacked. Not very nice of you. I’m almost offended.”
“It doesn’t,” Lan Wangji replied, his tongue loosened by the traces of alcohol that revived his taste buds every now and then.
Staring, Wei Wuxian parted his lips, the ones that weren’t his but could harbour his joy just as well.
“Lan Zhan,” he blurted. “So forward, Er-Gege. Hey, look here. Look at me.”
A hand appeared by Lan Wangji’s cheek, readjusting his head. He didn’t spend much time on considering, his lids fluttering as he leaned into it. After all, Wei Wuxian’s beautiful smile twinkled right there in front of him.
“Say my name,” Wei Wuxian purred, with the same warmth in his eyes as when he’d watched over a child in Yiling, munching on spicy snacks and pouring copious amounts of wine down his throat.
For a moment, Lan Wangji envied his ability; to stay clear-headed even when under the influence of so much mind-clouding beverage. He wished he himself didn’t get drunk after one cup, since he already knew that by the time he woke up tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember a single one of these precious expressions.
“Wei Ying,” he said.
The name fell from his lips in the breath that it was, its sound more music to his ears than each and every song he’d played before. His salvation, his second home. Something his family would call a curse.
“Wei Ying,” he repeated, just for the sake of it.
Wei Wuxian looked at him, contentment behind his glittering eyes, adoration tucked into every small wrinkle around them. His thumb tracing a languid path over Lan Wangji’s cheek, he encouraged, “Say it again.”
“Wei Ying.”
“Again.”
“Wei Ying.”
The cool brown of his irises faded under the moon, until they looked grey, silver. Like the ones Lan Wangji had fallen for, they still managed to cut his air supply.
Wei Wuxian inched closer, a movement so marginal anyone less perceptive wouldn’t have caught it.
He hummed, his eyes no longer directed at Lan Wangji’s and instead somewhere lower. “One more time.”
The syllable of his birth name had just left Lan Wangji’s mouth, still hanging in the air, when Wei Wuxian closed the gap between them.
His lips were soft, even when the impression threatened to dissolve within heated fog. He looked prettier with his lids shut.
Hazy mind unable to catch up in time, Lan Wangji only realised what had happened once Wei Wuxian pulled back.
The other blinked, the white around his irises visible and the tiniest hint of a dark hue ghosting over his cheekbones. He no longer smiled, but his expression held something better than that. Lan Wangji wished he could find the words.
As Wei Wuxian glared like that, he almost looked like he’d been the victim and not the culprit of his own assault.
Lan Wangji extended his arm to the side, quickly shocking life back into the one before him. He scrambled away, his face suddenly distant, rushing, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
The slap of Lan Wangji’s hand hitting his own head was quietened by the pain it brought, dark-blue silk above him fading to black as he felt himself fall over.
The last thing he noted were the soft, strong arms that caught him.
He awoke in a bed.
Vision blurry, he had to scrutinise the ceiling for a moment before the ability to move returned into his limbs, and he rolled over.
When he got up, he noticed he’d shed a layer, which had been stored at the foot of the bed in a voluptuous white pile of fabric. He righted the rest of his attire and then reached to drape the discarded cloak around his shoulders.
He didn’t remember anything from yesterday evening on, only that he’d downed a cup of liquor after being challenged to do so by Wei Wuxian.
As Wei Wuxian had not lain beside him when he’d opened his eyes, this memory gravely unsettled him.
The room was empty aside from the presence of himself and his items; neither Wei Wuxian nor his flute could be found. Over the various calls of his name, Lan Wangji’s anxiety grew and grew, until he stumbled out of the inn without bath or breakfast.
Sunrise poured over the streets outside, the city not yet having fully awoken – Only a few stalls with their vendors remained of yesterday’s bustle.
His pace brisker than proper, Lan Wangji made his way down towards those vendors, on the mere hunch he had. He didn’t call for Wei Wuxian again, but narrowed his eyes at any movement from within the still-dark alleys. By the time he got there, his breath fell ever so slightly harsher.
He was about as close to being distraught as the rules of his sect permitted, yet he still couldn’t spot the red of a ribbon anywhere.
“Excuse me,” one vendor shouted from the side of the road, “Master. Young Master, are you searching for someone?”
Lan Wangji halted, turning to look at him.
The man pointed near his feet, “Are you searching for him?”
Lan Wangji’s feet couldn’t carry him quickly enough, and he half-fell to the stone ground beside Mo Xuanyu’s slumped, unmoving body. Pulling the sleeping man up against the side of the stall, he glanced at the vendor, who took this as an invitation to elaborate.
“Found him in that alley,” he said, gesturing. “Completely wasted. Must have overdone it with the booze, eh?”
He crossed his arms, watching as Lan Wangji manoeuvred Wei Wuxian into his arms to pick him up.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Lan Wangji said, unable to bow properly with his arms occupied, and therefore lowering his head as deeply as possible.
If he’d had his hands free, he would have bought something from the vendor’s stall, but Wei Wuxian sagged in his arms without the slightest bit of energy to hold himself up.
Lan Wangji excused himself and brought him back to the inn, where the curious eyes of staff followed him until he disappeared behind their room’s door.
“Wei Ying,” he said, while setting Wei Wuxian down on the bed and arranging him to rest as comfortably as possible.
“Wei Ying.”
It took Wei Wuxian until he’d gathered a basin of fresh water, a towel and a bucket in case he needed to relieve himself.
While Lan Wangji drew the cloth over Wei Wuxian’s features, he saw his lashes move, and, soon enough, a pair of brownish eyes stared at him.
Too dazed to recognise, Wei Wuxian only groaned into the feeling of cool water against his face, hardly moving at all. All of a sudden, he sat up, knocking Lan Wangji’s hands away with his forehead.
“Lan Zhan?” he asked, his back rigid, “Oh – Oh, shit. What did I do?”
Lan Wangji didn’t trust touching him anymore. Too big was his dread that his drunk self might have done something he’d need to cut his own throat for.
However, Wei Wuxian’s safety came first, so he wanted to coax him into lying down instead – But before he could start, Wei Wuxian had already dropped, his forearm across his eyes.
“Ow,” he made, “Ow, my head. It hurts.”
“Do not move,” Lan Wangji advised, resuming his task with the washcloth. He stopped soon enough, because there was only so much he could do without forcing himself on Wei Wuxian. Uncertain how to start, he let it sink into his lap.
Wei Wuxian, who had closed his eyes, now opened one, frowning and inquiring, “Why did you stop?”
Lan Wangji forced himself to re-wet the towel, to have his hands do something useful.
“Wei Ying—” he started, then realised what he’d said, and was stricken quiet again. In silence, he glared down the towel.
Yet, Wei Wuxian merely prodded, “What is it?”
Cautious, Lan Wangji examined his expression, searching for signs of confusion or anything else out of the ordinary. He found nothing.
“Wei Ying?” he repeated, just to be sure Wei Wuxian had heard him.
The corners of Wei Wuxian’s mouth twitched, as though he was amused. “That’s me,” he said. “You’ve already told me you knew yesterday. Don’t you remember?”
Upon seeing Lan Wangji’s face, the amusement left his features. “Oh. You don’t.”
Lan Wangji shook his head.
“Wei Ying …” he started again. “While I was … Did something happen?”
“Oh, do you have water? It feels like I ate sand,” Wei Wuxian interrupted, his dark lashes flapping.
Off Lan Wangji went to fetch a cup, to return to a Wei Wuxian who sat way too straight in his bed, stretching his arms above his head and working through a yawn.
“Wei Ying,” he said. “Lie down.”
Wei Wuxian dropped his arms, his expression pulling into a worn smile. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me so much.”
Wordlessly, Lan Wangji handed him the cup. After a few large sips, Wei Wuxian set it down in his lap empty. Lan Wangji watched him warily, continuing to clench the towel between his hands.
“Wei Ying,” he repeated when Wei Wuxian didn’t say anything. “Did I – Did I act unjust towards you in any way?”
Wei Wuxian suddenly seemed greatly interested in the cup, outlining its rim with his thumb. “Hm,” he made, then turned away. “Er-Gege is always very forward,” he sighed, his tone dramatic, “So forward, so forward – My meagre arms just couldn’t do anything against him. Very rude indeed, this Er-Gege … But I’m not complaining.”
He muttered the last part into his shoulder, which almost sent Lan Wangji’s vision to white out.
He’d done something. He’d forced himself on Wei Wuxian. If not the very worst, then definitely something he had tried to fight off; futilely. Because Lan Wangji, even in drunk state, maybe intensified in drunk state, possessed a brute strength Mo Xuanyu couldn’t begin to compete with.
In a split second, he’d reached for his sword that was hung around a bedpost.
He pressed it to Wei Wuxian’s chest, his eyes downcast as he spoke, “I have laid hands on you. Please punish me as you deem appropriate.”
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember. Wei Wuxian could remember. With how he behaved, he must have experienced something unforgivable.
The weight in his hands shrunk, until it disappeared, when Wei Wuxian took the sword from him. A small click noise confirmed it being removed from its scabbard, the blade refracting sunlight onto the blank sheets in Lan Wangji’s view.
While he hadn’t expected Wei Wuxian to take such drastic measures – What had happened would need to be atoned for.
However, Wei Wuxian seemed to hesitate, and his question rose over the looming sword.
“Can I do whatever I want with you?”
“I am at your mercy,” Lan Wangji replied.
Wei Wuxian seemed to consider this. Bichen’s reflection shifted back and forth on the blanket.
“If that’s so …” he started, but never finished. Instead, Lan Wangji felt the warmth of a breath hit the side of his face, as if it should be followed by the softness of a pair of lips against it.
It disappeared within the blink of an eye, so fast that he was unsure whether Wei Wuxian had actually touched him or not, but the moment sufficed to leave him stupefied.
He hadn’t noticed he’d lifted his head before he recognised the magnitude of Wei Wuxian’s dazzling grin.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he cooed, not looking all too much like someone who had been assaulted and consecutively drunk himself to sleep just a night ago, “so righteous. I’m just making fun of you, Lan Zhan, I’m just messing with you. Hahahahaha – You should have seen your face!”
With a short laugh, he gave Lan Wangji’s head a pat. The hesitation in the move almost passed perception.
“Aiya, I first wanted to leave for the Burial Mounds. You could really appreciate it a bit more that I only went out to drink.”
Lan Wangji, still incapacitated, attempted to process the words, but it took another few weak – nervous? – giggles and ‘Er-Gege, are you there?’s from Wei Wuxian until he managed to tear himself back into reality.
Once his mind had returned to service and he’d convinced himself he must have hallucinated, he forced under strain, “Neither should have been an option.”
Wei Wuxian smiled again, that same careless smile he always had when he was preparing to go on about the insignificance of some of the things that happened to him.
“Hanguang-Jun,” he drawled, “Are you going to discipline me? Restrain me? Maybe tie me up with your forehead ribbon so I can’t go anywhere again—”
His grin twisted, and he dropped to empty his stomach into the bucket Lan Wangji was now glad to have thought of. While Wei Wuxian was down, he extracted Bichen from his lap, to free him of unneeded ballast.
After he’d urged some more water into Wei Wuxian’s system, the latter collapsed like a sack of rice onto the mattress.
“Lan Zhan,” he whined, lying flat like a bug on its back. “My head still hurts.”
Lan Wangji was about to get up to fill the cup anew, when Wei Wuxian reached for his wrist, making the move stagnate.
“Ah, it’s alright,” he said. “You don’t need to run for me all the time. It’s actually not that bad.”
“It is no bother,” Lan Wangji returned, feeling his arm stiffen under the hold around it.
“You’re doing me favours all the time,” Wei Wuxian protested. “Don’t do that, just because it’s me.”
Wei Wuxian had never been someone who asked for help. He might have tolerated it when offered, but what he could do himself, he’d always done himself – Of course, looking at the last few years of his life. If no one remained to lend their help, then there was little use in relying on it.
Lan Wangji obeyed the hand around his wrist, manoeuvring along its guidance to settle beside Wei Wuxian once more.
“You are not using me,” he spoke, careful of his words. “I choose to provide.”
Wei Wuxian didn’t react, his eyes on their still joined arms.
Gradually, he retracted his fingers.
At first, Lan Wangji thought he wanted to let go, as he’d now held his wrist for much longer than needed to keep him close. But before Wei Wuxian’s fingertips could lose their connection to his forearm, they had already wrapped around his hand.
“Do you?” Wei Wuxian muttered. “If you could have chosen, you wouldn’t have picked me, huh?”
His voice had gained a rougher edge, as if it had to run through a dry throat.
Lan Wangji gave him a slow blink. Plainly, he answered, “Then I am glad it was not my choice.”
He wondered how far he would have gone if he didn’t regard Wei Wuxian the way he did. He wasn’t even sure whether he might not still have injured the elders, out of the sole desire to avoid injustice.
His response made Wei Wuxian breathe a chuckle, though it vanished fast. Cocking his head to the side, he said, “You take care of me like it’s your responsibility to keep me all good. You may like me, even a lot, but it’s not like I’m your wife, Hanguang-Jun. You don’t need to do that. You’ve done so much for my sake already, it’s really enough at this point.”
Lan Wangji wanted to sigh, wanted to tell him for the fiftieth time that nothing could fulfil him more than making sure he was happy. But he didn’t, because he knew such words were going to meet a wall.
Instead, he said, “Never.”
Never would he have done enough for Wei Wuxian’s sake.
Early on in his life, he’d learned his own devotion to be limitless. If he himself had needed time to accept that it was, he had to be patient for Wei Wuxian to draw this conclusion, too. Yet, it stirred in his chest, the urge to spill and crush his beloved with the fact that he would forever be just that.
As he followed Wei Wuxian’s hooded eyes to their interlaced hands, he wondered whether they would ever sit like this again. In the quietness of early morning hours, the mist of past delirium still in the room, their hands intertwined and their hearts in the same place.
Probably not.
But no ounce of bitterness served any use while they still did.
“Never,” Wei Wuxian parroted. He smiled, wary. “Then you still – You’re not being polite to me out of obligation, no?”
Lan Wangji found his hand squeezed, looking down at it in growing confusion.
“No,” he replied. “I want to.”
“You want to?”
The strange note to Wei Wuxian’s words made him tilt his head back up, to find a pair of beautiful silver irises sparkling at him. More irritated, Lan Wangji put up a frown.
He considered that maybe Wei Wuxian wanted to make fun of him with how joyful he looked, until Wei Wuxian’s body jerked, and the force of his embrace almost knocked Lan Wangji backwards onto the floor.
His arms snaked around Lan Wangji’s torso, fingers spread over his robes in a violent, soon steady hold. Unable to decipher why he had been blessed with such a gesture, Lan Wangji left his return shallow, his hands loose against Wei Wuxian’s back, while Wei Wuxian’s grasp surprised him with a strength he wouldn’t have thought Mo Xuanyu to possess. Frankly, he felt his ribs shift under it.
But a hug was a hug, and he wouldn’t miss a chance to appreciate what he was gifted.
When Wei Wuxian leaned back, their arms travelling along each other’s, his face brimmed with something Lan Wangji couldn’t name, but would love to see more of.
“Can we get breakfast first? I’m going to starve if I don’t get something soon.”
Lan Wangji couldn’t exactly deny such a request. Although he very desperately did not want to end this brief, blissful moment, he wanted Wei Wuxian suffering even less. Therefore, he heaved himself up, holding out both hands for the other to hold on to.
Delighted, Wei Wuxian took the offer and more, clinging to Lan Wangji’s body like his legs might give in at any moment.
“Hanguang-Jun,” he lamented, “Hanguang-Jun, you’ll have to carry this lowly one to the table. It’s all spinning, oh heavens, what if I fall down the stairs and hit my head on something …”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reprimanded, because he couldn’t tolerate any such trivialisation of injury.
He already missed the air of before, locking its memory deep inside his heart. During those lonely mornings, soft memories of Wei Wuxian never failed to turn his blankets into something soothing, turn the Jingshi into a warmer place without the need for fire. He treasured every single one.
After a moment of silence, he added, “… Does Wei Ying want me to carry him?”
At this point, Wei Wuxian had somehow knotted his limbs up with the spacious fabric flowing down Lan Wangji’s body, tangling himself in it until it was draped around him like a poor cocoon. The position forced his body against Lan Wangji, making the latter feel a brisk spike in his heartbeat.
Head tilted back, Wei Wuxian twinkled upwards from his spot.
Clearly, he had no issue with physical contact. What a fool Lan Wangji was.
“You would do that?” he asked, his voice full of hopeful glee, “Oh, of course. It would be no issue for you, I must be a mere featherweight for the mighty Hanguang-Jun … Ah!”
When Lan Wangji scooped him up from within his clothes, Wei Wuxian clung to his neck, pressing closer than necessary. Feeling smile-shaped breaths hit his throat the entire way down, Lan Wangji made sure to make the ride as smooth as possible for his valuable freight.
He’d admire whatever privilege he was granted.
After another day of roaming the lands and checking into another inn, Lan Wangji was glad to set down his heavy gear.
Leaving Wei Wuxian in their room to distribute himself across the bed, he made his way to an attached restaurant to get their dinner.
The interested cook soon gave up on trying to strike up conversation, relented and just handed him a tray of various good-looking, satiating foods, which he carried back to the room. A lot of his care went to not letting the bottle of chili oil tip over.
Upon entering the room, he’d expected to see Wei Wuxian in the same position as before, each of his limbs covering one cardinal direction, but was surprised to find the bed empty.
A cooling breeze tugged at his attention, his head turning towards the opened doors at the other end of the room.
Before the blue, sparkling fabric of night, the silhouette of a young man fell into his eyes, the red ribbon in his hair trapping his gaze. He sat atop the railings meant to protect anyone from falling, back against one of the pillars that carried the balcony’s canopy. His thoughts seeming to lie with the night sky, Lan Wangji was unsure whether his return had been noticed yet.
Slowly, he advanced towards that shadow of a person, yet Wei Wuxian didn’t move the entire time he took to gently close the doors to the room behind him.
Only when Lan Wangji’s hands came down on the balcony’s railings – after he’d spared the leg that dangled into the depths a side-eye – did Wei Wuxian move his eyes away from the city, looking back at him with a lopsided curl to his lips.
The amplitude of his leg-dangling rose when he cocked his head, “Hanguang-Jun, we both know I can’t fall while you’re standing there, so why worry?”
As if to strengthen his statement, he lifted his hands into the air. His body shook dangerously under the influence of continued movement, so much that Lan Wangji’s reason blanked and he flinched.
Wei Wuxian laughed at his hands that now hovered in the air, but didn’t make an effort to hold on to the railings again. Lan Wangji furrowed his brows, his position frozen.
“Do not fool around,” he instructed, and Wei Wuxian smirked.
“So bossy,” he complained, “Is it that you don’t want to touch me if I fall?”
He spun around, so that he faced the safe side of the railings, feet braced against their brazen bars. Leaning forward, he reached out, his fingers closing around Lan Wangji’s wrists.
Lan Wangji felt the stop in his breath when Wei Wuxian placed them against his own waist, hands covering Lan Wangji’s to keep them there.
“Put them here. Do you like that, Er-Gege?” he murmured, head so beautifully to one side again with a smile that battled his teenage self, like he couldn’t wait to see the evidence of his shameless behaviour in Lan Wangji’s expression.
Lan Wangji knew he shouldn’t touch Wei Wuxian like this, for Wei Wuxian was either trying to do him favours or messing with him again. Still, he couldn’t let go, because that would mean subjecting Wei Wuxian to the possibility of falling backwards down two storeys. And while Lan Wangji doubted it would do major damage to a cultivator of his ability, he’d still rather not test it.
“Wei Ying,” he said, for the sole purpose of showing his disdain even though he could do nothing about it. Conflicted, he looked at his hands, trying not to think about how well this spot suited them.
Perhaps he should recite his sect rules for distraction.
By the thirteenth rule, his focus staggered, because Wei Wuxian shifted in his unsafe position. He gave up not much later, due to Wei Wuxian’s forearm moving to his shoulder.
Helpless, he dared a glance at his grin, wrongly assuming any kind of mercy to be granted.
Wei Wuxian guffawed in delight, heaving a second forearm to his other shoulder so his hands could clasp among Lan Wangji’s hair.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji forced through an inexplicably tight throat. “Dinner … will get cold.”
“Hanguang-Jun,” Wei Wuxian returned, “Are you trying to get rid of me? I thought this was what you wanted.”
Lan Wangji felt his airways narrow, a familiar ache prodding at his chest. What could he say?
Once, twice, he inhaled and exhaled, before he found the strength to continue. With the hands he took away from Wei Wuxian’s waist, he also pried the arms off his shoulders.
“There is no need for gratitude,” he breathed, letting them down like he was handling something fragile.
Wei Wuxian followed his own hands be lowered with his eyes as though he hadn’t expected such a development at all. Lan Wangji had no idea what to do with the confusion on his face when he looked back up.
Suddenly, he bellowed a cackle into the fresh night.
“Hanguang-Jun,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing about you. I just like you so much. I can’t help but laugh when I look at you.”
Even though the face that wore it now differed, his smile had turned fond with something inherently Wei Wuxian in it.
Lan Wangji closed his mouth, not wanting to give away the clean cuts such words dealt to his heart.
Wei Wuxian seemed to notice his apprehension, hands soon slapping down on his shoulders again like those of an impatient child, “Hanguang-Jun, Hanguang-Jun. Wanna know who I saw that night?”
Unsure, Lan Wangji blinked at one hand, feeling the temperature within his robes rise to uncomfortable levels alongside that throbbing, familiar shame.
Wei Wuxian didn’t bother his silence, simmering, sultry eyes trained on Lan Wangji’s as he continued.
“She didn’t look at me. But I recognised her figure. And she was in Jin robes, too, so I didn’t realise at first.”
One of the hands near Lan Wangji’s neck shifted, taking hold of a single strand of his hair. He didn’t see it, but he felt it, and he tracked the way Wei Wuxian’s focus shifted to that vacant strand.
The movement of it impeded his thinking, and he replied a moment later than would have been quick-witted, “Jiang Yanli.”
In front of him, Wei Wuxian nodded, his head pensively bobbing up and down.
“Mh-hm,” he made after a while.
Lan Wangji’s heartbeat increased every time their glances crossed. If he wasn’t so well-accustomed to stressful situations, his breathing would be all over the place, his thoughts about their proximity, the way Wei Wuxian whispered to him, spilt all across the floor.
His self-control hadn’t always been an asset, but at the moment, he couldn’t help the gratitude its persistence evoked in him.
“Ah, but don’t worry about it,” Wei Wuxian moved on, “I wanted to ask, can the spirit make you see living people as well?”
Lan Wangji couldn’t decipher where the question came from, so he just answered to the best of his ability. “If they’re the one you wish to see most.”
He himself had seen Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian had been standing right next to him at that moment.
“Hm,” the latter made now, “Then, Hanguang-Jun, who do you think I’d see if I met it again?”
Lan Wangji was quite certain his body had stopped working at that moment, because he woke up to Wei Wuxian having drawn dramatically nearer, the mischievousness in that piercing silver gaze impeccable and inevitable.
“Lan Zhan,” he said, “Lan Zhan. Did you hear me?”
Stupidly, Lan Wangji stared at him.
“I like you too, you hear? I really like you. If it’s possible – I’d really like to be with you how you want to be with me.”
One palm sneaked towards the back of his head, fingers curling within his hair and scraping over his scalp in a way that clouded all his senses.
“I want you to touch me wherever you like, Er-Gege. Like just then, you know? I’m asking for it, actually. I might not survive without it. You better do something about this, or I’m gonna drop dead right in front of you one day, hm?”
Lan Wangji didn’t have it in him to scold the repeated casual mention of Wei Wuxian’s death; for a moment, he forgot everything about himself. The world sat right in front of him, wearing a broad grin and crescent eyes.
“I’m not letting you hold me out of gratitude. It is just that I really want you to hold me,” Wei Wuxian went on, allowing his other hand to slide from Lan Wangji’s shoulders towards his jaw, where the very tips brushed pale white skin before it slipped right back.
“I mean … As long as you, you know. Want to, as well.”
The sincerity of Wei Wuxian’s smile flickered, and he seemed to squint his eyes in an attempt to read something off of Lan Wangji’s features. His hands almost unnoticeably sunk a little, like he’d decided against the subconscious urge to drop them in the last moment.
Without sparing it a single thought, Lan Wangji took them in his own and pressed them tight.
For he couldn’t fathom how much he wanted to, he stayed silent, his mouth slack in vain. To his fortune, Wei Wuxian had grown to know him over the weeks they’d spent, and now laughed over the image before him.
“Alright, good,” he judged, turning more serious again, “Uh … Let’s go back inside? I’m not wearing enough layers for this …”
If one looked close enough, the colour of his cheeks and his short-paced breath suggested that Wei Wuxian was, in fact, melting away in his clothes, but he’d already jumped down from the railings before Lan Wangji could have looked at him any longer.
As he passed, their eyes met, and at once, Wei Wuxian’s legs no longer carried him.
His expression dropped, such that he looked as though he was about to fall unconscious. Lan Wangji didn’t think about moving to catch him, and not a moment later, there was a pair of lips against his own.
He let it drown him, pull him down and into water so deep he couldn’t see a single thing but the light of Wei Wuxian’s never-ceasing, warm and living core.
They didn’t move for so long Lan Wangji felt the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s embrace reach his skin, make it tingle and glow in all the ways that might drive him mad if he gave them too much thought.
It felt like time stopped passing, his every breath tangled in his hold and kissing him stupid.
Not a single thought crossed his mind. For the first time in thirteen years, he was whole, nothing and everything. If he’d ever been happier, he couldn’t remember.
He kept Wei Wuxian to his heart until the last of his air went out, and he needed to breathe if he wanted to stay conscious. When he pulled back to take a look at Wei Wuxian, that man he’d loved for so many years and never thought he could have, he found his own quiet pants shivering, unsteady with the force of this blow.
Before, he’d had the chance to compensate for those furious shakes by squeezing the one in his arms, but now, he wanted to see Wei Wuxian, and he could no longer do that.
As soon as he realised, Wei Wuxian’s face fell, and he snapped out of his daze immediately.
“Lan Zhan?” he asked, palms wrapping around Lan Wangji’s cheeks to brush over them time and time again, as if he couldn’t stop. It didn’t take long until he’d pulled Lan Wangji into a crushing hug, burying him in the crooks and slopes of his own body.
He said nothing, but his silence told more than words ever could. They pressed each other as tight as possible without cracking bone, and the wet, cooling presence of something clear in Lan Wangji’s eyes made it better.
Sunken into the scent of a beloved who loved him back, he let it go.