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Golden Carp Tower, Lanling
Lan Xichen shifted where he sat, made uncomfortable by his sworn brother’s rather intense stare.
“Well?” Jin Guangyao said, eager to know why Lan Xichen would decline a meeting with Lanling’s most exclusive matchmaker. “She can match you with dozens of eligible ladies, and seeing as you’re considered one of the most—if not the the most—eligible young bachelor in the cultivation world, she would have no qualms setting up a meeting with you.”
“I understand,” Lan Xichen replied, tugging awkwardly at his collar. “It simply isn’t the right time.”
“You said that the last time I asked, which was years ago, but now the Cloud Recesses has been rebuilt, and your sect is thriving. What is stopping you, Er-ge?”
Lan Xichen smiled, though he still felt rather awkward. He didn’t like keeping secrets from A-Yao, but he thought telling the truth now might make things more awkward. How could he know how his friend would react? They’d never discussed such things before, and what with Mo Xuanyu’s recent banishment from Lanling, Lan Xichen thought it safer to keep this secret to himself.
“It is nothing, A-Yao. Really. I’m just not ready yet.”
A-Yao pursed his lips into a thin line, looking nervous. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping here,” he said, “but we’ve been friends a long time, and I feel I know you quite well.”
Lan Xichen looked down at his cup of tea, anxious to hear where A-Yao was going with this.
“It’s just—you seem lonely, Er-ge.”
His shoulders sagged. Of course he was lonely. Wangji had long since forgiven him for everything that happened after the Nightless City Massacre, but he didn’t know how to act around his brother anymore, found himself walking on eggshells when they spoke. A rift had been cut between them, one he couldn’t even begin to cross, let alone patch.
It had been easier to cope before they lost Mingjue, but now. . .
“Who’s lonely?” he replied with as much confidence as he could muster. “I have you, don’t I?”
A-Yao’s expression softened considerably. “And you will always have me, but do you not want for something more?”
He did. He ached for it with an alarming ferocity. He’d never felt things so strongly, but this was different, overwhelming, consuming, maddening. He could hardly keep himself in check when those feelings were roused; how could he possibly pursue them?
“Forgive me,” A-Yao said at Lan Xichen’s silence. “It is not my place to say such things.”
Lan Xichen shook his head. “It is. Who would speak to me about this if not you?”
His friend smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said tentatively, deciding that he should at least try to explain himself, “there is someone.”
A-Yao perked up. “There is? Who is she?”
Lan Xichen cringed inwardly. “Just. . . another cultivator. One I’ve been interested in for a while.”
“Does she know about your feelings?”
“Heavens no,” he said quickly.
“You’re nervous she won’t reciprocate?”
He supposed he was; he nodded.
“Er-ge,” A-Yao shook his head like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Of course she will reciprocate.”
“I have invited this person to the Cloud Recesses before—many times, in fact, but I am always met with indifference. I fear my feelings will never be mutual, as I would not be a conventional partner.”
“Because you’re a sect leader?”
“That is part of it.”
“You shouldn’t worry about that,” said A-Yao. “As your wife, she would support you.”
Lan Xichen shook his head. “It is not so simple. Even if we did marry, I doubt this person would move to Gusu. We would have to live separately.”
A-Yao frowned. “That is troublesome. Why can’t she move to the Cloud Recesses?”
“Too many responsibilities back home.”
“I see. She must be a very important person.”
Lan Xichen nodded.
“Will Er-ge not tell me her name?”
Lan Xichen shook his head.
They were quiet for a moment, with Lan Xichen fidgeting anxiously where he sat and A-Yao staring off thoughtfully. A moment later, he stood, gestured for Lan Xichen to follow him across the room. “I want to show you something, Er-ge.”
Lan Xichen obeyed, following A-Yao further into the study where they stopped before a tall bronze mirror.
“I’m going to let you in on a secret which might solve your problem,” said A-Yao. “One of them at least.”
He reached toward the mirror, and his hand passed straight through, metal rippling out like water. Lan Xichen’s eyes went a little wider as the rest of A-Yao disappeared behind the mirror. A moment later, he walked back out again.
“This is incredible,” said Lan Xichen. “How did you do it?”
A-Yao beamed, always one to revel in his sworn brother’s praise. “A spell. Let me show you.”
He spent the next several minutes explaining how he’d designed such a spell and the ways Lan Xichen might alter it for his own benefit.
“You’re suggesting I create a portal?” he asked in disbelief.
A-Yao nodded. “If the person you desire cannot move to Gusu, then eliminate the distance.”
“But wouldn’t it sap the spiritual energy of anyone who passes through? Like a transportation talisman would?”
A-Yao shook his head. “It will take a significant amount of energy to cast the initial spell, but once your mirror—or whatever item you choose—is enchanted, it shouldn’t affect your energy at all. Though the spell might deteriorate over time, in which case you would need to recast it.”
Lan Xichen considered this, stomach churning with nervous energy, with thrill and excitement. The journey by sword wasn’t too long or draining, but such a commute just to see one’s spouse wasn’t tenable long-term. But if he were to enchant two mirrors in the way A-Yao suggested, it would be like living in the same house. One need simply pass through the door into the next room.
He could see his husband whenever he pleased.
Lan Xichen couldn’t help his ear-to-ear grin, though he did try not to get too worked up. Distance was not his biggest issue—or his most pressing. They weren’t even courting yet. Until they were, he couldn’t dream too big—he’d always had a problem with that, which was likely the reason he’d held onto (and nurtured) this crush (it was certainly much more than a crush now) as long as he had.
“This is very helpful, A-Yao,” he said sincerely. “More than you know.”
“I’m glad. Will Er-ge confess his feelings, then?”
Lan Xichen considered this, felt his ears warm at the prospect. “I may,” he said, “in time.”
Someone knocked softly on the door. A moment later, a Jin servant stepped into the room, followed closely by an irritated-looking man with crossed arms and a scowl on his face. Lan Xichen thought he felt his heart stop, his every frozen inch thaw.
Jiang Wanyin.
His Wanyin.
Had their idle chatting summoned him?? Lan Xichen couldn’t believe his luck!
Jiang Wanyin whispered something to the servant, and Lan Xichen found himself leaning forward, eager to hear his voice. It had been some time after all, but time and distance had done nothing to dull Lan Xichen’s fondness. He wanted Jiang Wanyin as much now as he had a decade ago. No, he wanted him more. He’d never wanted anything so much, had never known desire before Wanyin. His Wanyin.
When A-Yao dismissed the servant, Lan Xichen could no longer hold his tongue.
“Tea?”
Jiang Wanyin wasn’t listening. “What?”
Lan Xichen didn’t mind, thought it was endearing. He wouldn’t mind being ignored by Jiang Wanyin forever if it meant always being near enough to look at him. He was so pretty. Pretty enough that Lan Xichen almost couldn’t bear to keep looking. Almost.
He felt he shouldn’t be allowed to look, should avert his gaze out of respect and pluck out the eyes of any person who dared steal a glance at Jiang Wanyin without his permission.
Lan Xichen smiled helplessly. “Should I pour you a cup of tea, Jiang-zongzhu?”
“No,” he replied curtly. “Thank you.”
He was the sun, and Lan Xichen was delighted to burn.
“Take a seat.” A-Yao gestured to a free cushion at the table, encouraging Jiang Wanyin to join them.
This was quite possibly the best day of Lan Xichen’s life.
“I’ll go get A-Ling.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jiang Wanyin said, “If you just tell me where he is—”
“Nonsense. I’ll just be a minute.”
Then they were alone, and Lan Xichen wondered if his heart had ever beat this quickly. How exciting. Jiang Wanyin met his eye, then looked away.
To be so headstrong yet so easily embarrassed; Lan Xichen had never been so fond of anyone.
He wanted to kiss him. He would refrain (for now). Their first kiss needed to be perfect; moonlight was a must (for the romantic ambience of course), and privacy—someplace remote but comfortable. He would want Wanyin to feel comfortable. Music too, he thought, and incense. Was there such a setting at Lotus Pier?
Jiang Wanyin looked at the door impatiently, and Lan Xichen realized he was wasting their precious time together fantasizing about kissing!
He composed himself, lifted his cup, then invited Jiang Wanyin to sit.
He declined. That was okay. Lan Xichen knew he would have to get used to Jiang Wanyin’s rejection.
That was okay too.
It meant Wanyin’s eventual acceptance would be that much sweeter.