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It’s been three months since Guanyin Temple, and Wei Ying has already settled into life in the Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji is used to seeing him around, little flashes of red and black in the pavilions and courtyards. No longer a guest disciple, it would’ve been improper to have him continue staying in the student quarters—Lan Wangji offered to let him stay in the Jingshi at first, but he’d refused.
“What would people say?” he laughed, when they’d first returned home on Little Apple. “The great Hanguang-jun seduced by the Yiling Patriarch? I couldn’t!”
Let them say it, Lan Wangji thought stubbornly, and a little part of him wanted to press the matter further, but he stopped himself. The first time he’d confessed, all those years ago in the cave, Wei Ying said nothing, not even sparing a word of acknowledgement. Even after his return, he hasn’t mentioned it once.
Lan Wangji’s chest aches, but he’s glad; if Wei Ying doesn’t return his feelings, then it’s better this way. Like this, he can still keep Wei Ying in his life. If Wei Ying only ever sees him as a friend, then so be it—after thirteen years of solitude, this is more than he could have ever dreamed of.
He sets up a little guest house by the Jingshi instead and invites Wei Ying to visit whenever he pleases.
Wei Ying, surprisingly, has taken him up on that. He stops by daily, often just to chat about his latest night-hunt or whatever new talisman he’s been working on. He lets himself in without knocking and drapes himself over Lan Wangji’s furniture as he launches into a detailed explanation of the day’s events. Lan Wangji finds himself looking forward to these little visits, waiting by the door for Wei Ying to barge in.
It’s on one of these occasions that Wei Ying proposes stopping by Caiyi. “Just for dinner,” he cajoles, “we’ll be back before Hai Shi. I haven’t had good food in so long!”
Even if he wanted to stay out for the rest of the night, Lan Wangji isn’t entirely sure he could refuse him anything. He doesn’t say that, of course—just nods and watches as Wei Ying grins, elated by his acquiescence.
“Perfect!” Wei Ying exclaims. He laughs. “If only we could go night-hunting too! Then it really would be the perfect trip!”
Why not? Lan Wangji thinks, and speaks before even having time to contemplate it. “We can,” he says.
“Huh?”
“If you’d like, that could be arranged,” he offers. “There are many inns in Caiyi. If we remain past curfew, it will not be difficult to stay the night. We can return to Gusu in the morning.”
There are selfish reasons, too, why Lan Wangji wants to stay with him longer, but he doesn’t let himself think about that.
Wei Ying’s eyes are wide with excitement. He slings an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders, jostling him. Lan Wangji takes in the weight of it, the warmth of Wei Ying’s body against his.
“You really are the best, Lan Zhan,” he grins, “did you know? I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.” He meets Lan Wangji’s eyes and lets his gaze linger a few seconds longer than necessary. Lan Wangji’s treacherous heart beats a little faster.
“I am the lucky one,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly, and Wei Ying’s delighted crow of laughter captures the whole of his attention so thoroughly that he cannot even think to focus on anything else.
The night-hunt goes well—there’s a small band of fierce corpses lingering near the outskirts of Caiyi, an easy enough problem to solve for two experienced cultivators. Wei Ying sighs contentedly when they’re done. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “it really makes you feel young again, doesn’t it?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees.
Wei Ying grins, as he is wont to do. “Mn,” he repeats, teasing, in his best impression of Lan Wangji. “Hanguang-jun, can’t you spare me a few more words?”
“I can,” Lan Wangji says indulgently, just to hear Wei Ying laugh again. The sound fills him with warmth. He pauses, then asks, “Are you hungry?”
Wei Ying’s face lights up. “Ah, famished!” he exclaims. He drops his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “You said we could return in the morning, didn’t you? Well, there’s an inn nearby with the best Emperor’s Smile,” he says cajolingly. “We could stop by, eat dinner. How about it?”
As always, Lan Wangji can’t find it in himself to refuse him anything.
When they arrive, the innkeeper smiles at them. “Just here for dinner, or here for a room as well?” he asks.
“Both,” Lan Wangji says.
The man winces apologetically. “Ah, I’m sorry, but we only have one room left,” he says, glancing at the two of them.
Wei Ying seems unfazed. “No big deal!” he says cheerily, “I used to share with Jiang Cheng all the time, back in Yunmeng! Lan Zhan, what do you think? It’ll be just like staying in the student quarters all over again!”
Lan Wangji instinctively bristles at being put in the same category as Wei Ying’s brother, but at the same time, a little bud of joy grows in his chest at the thought of being close to him. Just as friends, he reminds himself, nothing more. The hope is hard to quash, but Lan Wangji has endured worse; he does not think it will ever go away, but he will live with the feeling of it nevertheless, somehow simultaneously heavy and light in his heart all at once. “One room will be sufficient,” he confirms.
“Oh, and can you prepare a bathtub too?” Wei Ying asks. He glances back at Lan Wangji. “It’ll be nice to clean up before dinner, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” the innkeeper replies graciously. “It’ll be ready when you enter.”
And it is, Lan Wangji notes, as he opens the door to their room. There’s a singular bed in the center, big enough for the two of them. Wei Ying doesn’t seem to notice or care—he makes a beeline for the wooden bathtub, already full with steaming hot water. “Do you mind if I go first?” he asks, already pulling the bamboo divider closed.
Lan Wangji doesn’t mind. He thinks he’ll walk around for a bit. He leaves the room to give Wei Ying his privacy and wanders around the hall. When he returns, Wei Ying is stepping out from behind the divider, reaching for a towel. For a split second, they make eye contact.
Lan Wangji closes his eyes immediately.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims. “I can’t believe you, barging in here to spy on me! How scandalous!”
It’s nothing Lan Wangji hasn’t seen before. When they were younger, it had been no problem even, the two of them bathing in the cold springs together. Now though, he can’t help the sudden rush of desire that floods through him—he can’t open his eyes because if he did, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tear them away again.
“I did not look,” he says. His ears are probably red. He stubbornly keeps his eyes shut.
Wei Ying blinks. “Ah! Yes! Very good! How proper,” he says, his voice a sharp, broken staccato, “just as expected of the virtuous Hanguang-jun.” He sounds flustered. Lan Wangji wonders what he’s thinking about.
There’s an awkward pause.
“Are you—” Lan Wangji begins, then reframes. Are you finished? he’d meant to ask at first, but he thinks the answer is clear. He clears his throat. “I apologize,” he says. “I’ll wait outside.”
“It’s alright!” Wei Ying squeaks, higher than normal. “I’ll be ready in a minute!”
Lan Wangji leaves, his hand pressed tightly over his eyes, trying to calm his pounding heart.
The inn serves dinner downstairs, a level down from the rooms. Wei Ying looks relaxed and content when he emerges from the room. He doesn’t mention what happened before as he hooks his arm around Lan Wangji’s elbow and drags him over to a table. Lan Wangji is grateful; he certainly will not be the first to bring it up.
Wei Ying orders the spiciest thing on the menu along with a couple jugs of Emperor’s Smile. As soon as the waiter takes their order, scurrying away to the kitchen, he leans back into his chair, tipping it onto its two hind legs and rocking back and forth.
“Ah, this is the life!” Wei Ying exclaims. “Spending my days adventuring with you, saving poor townsfolk from vengeful spirits, dining with you at night—I’m so lucky that the esteemed Hanguang-jun deigns to pay attention to this unworthy one. It must be such a chore, following me around, paying for all my meals. Lan Zhan, if I said I'd treat you next time, would you let it go? Forgive me just this once?”
Lan Wangji is not entirely sure that Wei Ying can even afford to treat him the next time. Certainly he could, if he started charging for his work in night-hunts, but it doesn’t seem in his nature. Besides, this arrangement has worked perfectly fine for them so far. There is no need to change it. Lan Wangji says, "No."
“Huh?” The front two legs of the chair hit the ground with an abrupt crash as Wei Ying leans forward. Several stray strands of hair, loose from his ponytail, brush against his collar as he moves. He shakes them back out of his face, blinking at Lan Wangji. “Why not?” Wei Ying asks, teasing. He grins, that familiar endearing smirk plastered crookedly across his face. “You know, you still haven’t visited Lotus Pier. The liquor in Gusu is top quality, but you haven’t lived until you’ve tried Yunmeng wine. How about we go? I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll call it even?”
"It is not a chore,” Lan Wangji clarifies. Wei Ying blinks owlishly. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“Lan Zhan!” he exclaims. His eyes gleam. “That was almost romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you!”
If only he knew, Lan Wangji thinks, but he forces it down. He lets the sound of Wei Ying’s idle chatter wash over him, soothing his tumultuous mind.
Soon enough, dinner arrives, piping hot and dripping in a volcanic red sauce. Lan Wangji notices instantly the way Wei Ying's eyes light up, drawn to the platter. He reaches out carelessly for a piece of chicken, hand darting out to grab a chunk of meat between two nimble fingers before Lan Wangji can even open his mouth to admonish him for his manners.
The second he makes contact with the food, Wei Ying yelps. The chicken falls back down onto the platter. "Ow," he whines petulantly, popping the scalded fingers into his mouth. His lips, cherry red, close around the digits. As he sucks at his injured fingertips, Lan Wangji can't tear his eyes away.
Wei Ying isn’t doing this on purpose—Lan Wangji knows that at least, has known that since they were young, that Wei Ying has no idea the effect he has on him—but suddenly blood is rushing to his ears. If Wei Ying were more observant, less focused on his wounded hand, he'd tease him about it. Lan Zhan, your ears are turning pink! he'd crow, endlessly amused. Lan Wangji would have no rebuttal.
Luckily, Wei Ying doesn't notice. "It was too hot!" he complains instead, glaring at the food like it's just insulted him and all of Yunmeng. "I burned myself, can you believe it?"
"Use chopsticks next time," Lan Wangji replies coolly, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice. He looks pointedly at the untouched pair sitting beside Wei Ying's plate.
Wei Ying picks them up reluctantly, twirling one across his fingers the same way that he fidgets with Chenqing sometimes. He frowns, bored already. "Lan Zhan!" he exclaims again shrilly, mock-affronted, "Your poor traveling companion has just been grievously injured, and that's all you have to say? Shame on you! If only everyone knew that the great Hanguang-jun was really like this, so cold and uncaring!"
This isn't the first time he's gone on such a tirade, feigning offense while he prods and pokes Lan Wangji for a reaction. Lan Wangji likes to indulge him, playing along. A couple other patrons are giving them sidelong looks. Lan Wangji lets him go on for a few more seconds. As soon as he takes a break in his heartfelt speech, pausing to take a breath, Lan Wangji asks, "Then what would you like me to do about it?"
Wei Ying's eyes light up. He throws back his head and laughs. Lan Wangji’s chest twists a little at the sound.
"So you really do care, after all!" he says, delighted.
He pauses here, cocking his head like he's deep in thought, tapping the end of a chopstick against his chin. "I know... how about you kiss it better?"
He extends his injured hand toward Lan Wangji like a gracious emperor, fingers splayed wide. His thumb and forefinger are still wet, glistening with saliva. Wei Ying is grinning triumphantly, like he expects Lan Wangji to take it back, to pull away in disgust. It’s a bluff, with Wei Ying testing how far he can go as per usual.
Ah, Lan Zhan, he'd say after, no doubt already readying the retort on his tongue, I was just teasing, just messing with you, but who would've thought you'd make such a big deal over a little kiss? Certainly not me.
Lan Wangji does none of those things. He looks at Wei Ying's hand, glances back at Wei Ying's expectant face, then back at the hand one more time. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leans forward and closes his mouth around both fingers.
Wei Ying’s mouth opens into a perfect round ‘o’ of surprise. For a moment, both of them stay in that position, Lan Wangji not wanting to let go and Wei Ying too shocked to move.
When they break apart, it is Wei Ying who draws back, letting out a yelp that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. He instinctively draws his hand to his chest, startled and thrown off-balance. Surprise, then confusion ripple across his face, followed by something else Lan Wangji can’t quite name. His pupils are very dark, blown wide. Wei Ying takes a shaky little breath.
Lan Wangji licks his lips. The taste of spice lingers on his tongue, sharp and biting.
"Ah, Lan Zhan," he says, just like Lan Wangji thought he would, but his voice is weak, high-pitched. He swallows hard and tries again. Lan Wangji watches the graceful movement of his throat. “I didn’t expect that from you.” Wei Ying sounds dazed.
It is not very often that something puts Wei Ying at a loss for words, and even rarer to fluster him. Right now, he is both flustered and speechless and trying hard not to show it. There’s something darkly satisfying about seeing this.
Wei Ying lets out a shrill, nervous giggle, trying to recover some of his lost bravado. “Haha, you really got me good there, didn’t you? Really showed me, not to—" his voice dies down a little here, becoming a strangled little squeak, "—not to—not to go around...putting my fingers...near other people's mouths, huh? I mean, you never know who might be on the other end! They might even bite, Lan Zhan, can you imagine that? I'm so lucky it was you, and not some nasty, mean person who might—who might—" At this, he cuts himself off, too flustered to say anything more.
"Who might do what?" Lan Wangji asks, his voice a little deeper and sterner than usual.
"Nothing!" Wei Ying stares straight ahead, his cheeks flushed. He pointedly does not look at Lan Wangji. “Hey, we should eat now, don’t you think? The food will get cold!”
“Who might do what?” Lan Wangji repeats.
Wei Ying looks embarrassed for once in his life. “Who might…not be as nice as you,” he says.
Lan Wangji was wrong. He is happy, yes, and grateful to have Wei Ying as his friend, but as he stares at the dark flush creeping up his neck, he doesn’t know how he ever deluded himself into believing that he was fully content to have nothing more. The longing in him aches like a festering wound.
Wei Ying downs an entire jar of Emperor’s Smile in one long swig. Lan Wangji can see his throat quivering as he swallows, the rhythmic motion of each gulp.
When he’s done, he turns to his plate, wolfing down his meal with a ferocity that nearly distracts Lan Wangji from the way Wei Ying pointedly does not look him in the eye. Lan Wangji picks at his food delicately with his chopsticks.
They don’t speak.
When their plates are empty, Wei Ying stands up abruptly, jerkily. “Let’s go back to the room!” he says in a rush. There’s a nervous sort of energy to him, simmering under his skin. The air feels electric, like in the hours right before a coming storm, putting them both on edge. It’s like Wei Ying can’t walk fast enough as he hurries back upstairs, glancing back every few seconds to ensure that Lan Wangji is following along.
The second his foot crosses the threshold, he takes a breath and turns around. He shifts his weight from one leg to another, unable to stay still. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, can you help me out?” he asks, his casual tone at odds with the way he fidgets, drumming his fingers across his thigh.
“What is it?”
Wei Ying drops his voice down to a low, teasing tone. “I hurt myself again at dinner. I ate too fast and burned my tongue. Lan Zhan, will you kiss that better too?”
“Wei Ying,” he says, as steadily and calmly as he can. “Don’t joke around.” It takes all of his willpower and more not to do exactly that. It’s almost like the charged atmosphere of the room has gotten to him too, eroding what is left of his composure. It would be so easy to slide a hand into his hair, to cup his fingers around his face and kiss him. But he restrains himself, like he has every time before.
“But I’m really serious! I actually did burn my tongue!” Wei Ying breaks into an easy smile, in a way that makes Lan Wangji’s heart twist in loops. Wei Ying’s robes have loosened in his haste, baring more of the smooth, creamy flesh of his chest. Lan Wangji can’t look away. “I wouldn’t lie to you!”
Lan Wangji is a patient man. Still, there are limits to how much even he can handle. He slams the door shut.
“Hey, what was that?” Wei Ying exclaims, laughing in the way he always does to disguise his uneasiness, to diffuse tension. “Lan Zhan, you’re full of surprises today! Whatever happened to your impeccable manners? Surely there’s a rule against slamming doors written on that great big wall of yours, back in Gusu.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he changes the subject and asks what’s really been on his mind. “Do you mean it?”
“Huh?”
“Do you want me to?” he repeats.
“What?” Wei Ying pointedly does not meet his eyes. “To do what?”
“Kiss you,” Lan Wangji replies.
“Ah,” Wei Ying manages. “That.” He licks his lips unconsciously—at least, Lan Wangji assumes it is. It seems like a nervous gesture, but Lan Wangji is drawn to the movement. “Don’t—don’t pay me any attention, I was just saying things, y’know? I say so many things you might as well just forget about it. Even I forget about half the things I say, and I’m the one who said them! Ridiculous, isn’t it? That’s just how I am, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Lan Wangji locks the door with a loud click. He turns around.
“I want to.”
Wei Ying blinks once, hard, before letting out a nervous laugh. "Lan Zhan, you're so funny! Has anyone ever told you that? Well, I guess I’m telling you right now—“
“Wei Ying. Don’t say one thing and mean another.”
There’s a minute shift in Wei Ying’s expression, a hitch in his breath and an eagerness to his eyes. “Hanguang-jun, you’re so scary!” he exclaims. “You know, you didn’t even really have to ask! I bet if you really wanted to kiss me… if you wanted to do more, even… I really wouldn’t be able to do anything to fight back.”
“Do you want me to?” Lan Wangji asks again, voice rough.
“Do I want you to?” Wei Ying repeats, like he doesn't quite understand the question. His pupils are blown wide. He’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. “Yes.”
And then Lan Wangji surges forward and kisses him, pressing Wei Ying’s lips against his own. They’re warm and plush and Wei Ying lets out a shocked little gasp that makes Lan Wangji want him even more. As they pull away for breath, Wei Ying murmurs, “I thought you’d never take the hint.”
“What do you mean?” Lan Wangji asks, even as he presses little kisses against Wei Ying’s neck.
He laughs, light and loose, with none of the apprehension that had colored his voice before. “Earlier, when we were in the room…” he says. “When you came in. It’s funny—you know me, I’m such a frivolous person.” No, Lan Wangji disagrees in his mind, Wei Ying is anything but frivolous, but Wei Ying is already continuing, “So I wanted to tease you a little, but suddenly, I couldn’t help but feel shy for a second. Me! Acting all flustered, like some kind of innocent maiden, can you believe it?”
The admission makes Lan Wangji’s heart skip a beat.
Wei Ying drops his voice. “And you know, it’s strange, but in that moment, I thought, ‘What if he did look?’ I would’ve liked that too, I think.” His breath hitches. “But Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I think what I really like most is you. Do you ever feel that way too? Even before, I never really realized then, but sometimes, I’d look at you and I’d feel…”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies as Wei Ying trails off. “I thought you knew.” He doesn’t add, I thought you knew and you didn’t reciprocate. I thought you never would. His beating heart is a loud roar in his ears, thumping madly as he stares back at Wei Ying.
Wei Ying blinks, confused. “How could I have known?”
“I told you,” Lan Wangji says. “Back then, in the cave. After Nightless City.”
Wei Ying’s eyes are wide and guileless. “I didn’t know,” he says earnestly. “If I did, I would’ve…well, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. But with matters like this, I’ve always talked big, but really, I’ve never known what to do. I’m a little slow, when it comes down to it. You have to spell things out for me. But I swear, I really do like you. I love you, even. When I look at you, my heart feels so full, it’s like it’ll burst.”
Lan Wangji feels like he’s floating, too overwhelmed to do anything but stare.
Nervous, Wei Ying says, “I’m sorry if I said this all too fast.” He starts to fidget again, “I just, I really wanted you to know—”
“You love me,” Lan Wangji echoes, a giddy sort of excitement rushing through him. He leans in and kisses Wei Ying again, longer this time, deeper, wrapping his arms around him. Wei Ying melts, soft and pliant, and Lan Wangji murmurs, “For me, it’s only ever been you.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying says. He sounds stunned.
“I wanted you to be happy,” Lan Wangji says. That’s why he’d never pressed the matter, even after Wei Ying’s return. He’d wanted more, yes, but he could live with that aching in his heart for the rest of his life if it meant that Wei Ying could be content. “I didn’t know what you wanted. I didn’t want to assume.”
Wei Ying’s voice is a hushed whisper now, a conspiratory breath in Lan Wangji’s ear. “What I want…” he says, slowly. “Lan Zhan,” he begins, very seriously, like he’s taking his time to think.
Lan Wangji holds his breath.
Then, Wei Ying smiles again, wide and bright. “I think I really want you to kiss me again.”
And with a request like that, what else can Lan Wangji do but comply?