Archive of Our Own

Wei Wuxian is three days out from Gusu. He doesn’t mean to be, honestly. He’d been resolving a series of night hunts by word of mouth, one after another without paying any attention to where he was actually going, and now here he is, three days out from Gusu.

He blows his breath out and leans against Little Apple as he wonders if he should drop in on Lan Zhan unannounced. He’s sure his friend wouldn’t mind, but he’s also sure Lan Zhan is too busy with Chief Cultivator things to also have to deal with Wei Wuxian.

Ah, well, he thinks as he straightens up. He can at least enjoy Gusu itself – its scenery, its cute dialect, its Emperor’s Smile – before heading back out into places unknown (to him; unknown to him since he was dead for a bit there).

It is getting late, though, and his money pouch is extremely full (not from Lan Zhan, though; some people just can’t take ‘no need for payment’ as an answer, but since they were all pretty rich, Wei Wuxian didn’t really mind), so rather than continue on until Little Apple refuses to go any further and bed down in some out of the way bush or something, he decides to find an inn in the little town he can see signs of just down the road and maybe treat himself to a bit of luxury. Yes, wine, a bath, a bed – ah, the life.

The town, he comes to find, isn’t very big, and there’s only one inn, but at least there is an inn, and he counts it as a victory, even if the inn is a little ramshackle. He’s stayed in worse places, honestly. (The Burial Mounds come to mind.)

Despite being ramshackle, a generous amount of light is spilling out into the darkening street, and Wei Wuxian can hear the sounds of many voices flowing out to where he’s tying up Little Apple. It seems to be a lively little place this evening, so maybe he can add entertainment and a bit of gossip to that list of luxuries.

When he enters the inn, a few heads turn his way, but no one pays him much mind except the innkeeper, who scurries over to see to his needs. He asks for a room for himself and board for Little Apple, a bath, dinner, and wine. He’s a little bit giddy at the thought that he can afford all that at once.

“Of course, Gongzi,” the innkeeper says with a bow. “Would you like dinner served in your room?”

Wei Wuxian scans the main room, and while it is as lively and full as it sounded from outside, there are free tables here and there, so he answers, “No, I’ll eat down here.”

“Very good, Gongzi. Please have a seat wherever you like. We’ll tend to your donkey, and a server will be right with you.”

“Thank you!” Wei Wuxian gives her a bright smile and makes his way over to a free table. It’s always a little relieving when he can walk into an establishment and not have someone eye his black, travel-stained robes warily. Or Chenqing, for that matter, tucked into his belt. He does have Suibian, but he’s found that people are a little freer with information if they don’t know he’s a cultivator, so it’s tucked away in his qiankun pouch. (Not that he can use Suibian, anyway, as it’s meant to be used; though, a sword is a sword, spiritual or not, so he’s been working to at least wield it for defense.)

He makes himself comfortable and then glances at the nearby tables. One is a smaller table where two elderly men are quietly drinking tea and playing weiqi. Another is a larger table with a group of women discussing an upcoming wedding. He surmises that this inn serves more as a communal gathering place for the town than a place for travelers, which serves his purposes this evening just fine. He’ll relax, enjoy his meal, and see if the lovely ladies can provide interesting or entertaining information.

By the time a server has taken his order and delivered his food and wine, he thinks he knows the names of just about every granny and auntie in the town and all their opinions on the wedding planning, especially the ones no one asked for. And after a few bites of his meal, the bride herself rushes into the inn and practically throws herself onto the women’s table, bemoaning her woes to everyone who would listen. Wei Wuxian hides his smile behind his cup of wine as he eagerly watches the scene, as one who would absolutely listen.

“I’m never going to get married!” she wails loudly, which is met by many a sympathetic noise and a cup of wine being thrust into her hand.

“Of course you will,” one friend says cheerfully. “We’ve all been counting down the days. The big day will be here before you know it!”

The bride shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, it won’t! It won’t until A-niang is satisfied, and she’ll never be satisfied at this rate!”

Wei Wuxian winces slightly at that. He, of course, had lost his own mother very young, and Yu Ziyuan had never been any sort of mother to him, but she had been a mother, and she’d never been satisfied, either. So, Wei Wuxian could sympathize, truly. It might be a common trait among mothers, he thinks as he watches the bride toss back her cup of wine with gusto and ask for another cup.

“There, there,” one of her friends says while refilling her cup. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“But what is she unhappy about?” another friend asks. “Maybe we can help.”

The bride pauses in reaching for the cup to shake her head. “She’s not happy with the chickens. Every time A-die brings new ones home, A-niang always finds something wrong with them. They’re too skinny, not enough feathers, the beak is crooked. How can we let our daughter take inauspicious chickens into her marriage?” She downs her cup of wine and collapses onto the table with a long-suffering groan.

Wei Wuxian chuckles to himself and continues enjoying his meal as the women try to console the bride and guide her onto happier topics. If skinny chickens are the biggest problem in the town right now, then there’s probably nothing in the immediate vicinity that needs his particular expertise. Not that he’s looking for a night hunt or anything, but he’ll never overlook someone in need of help (no matter how much trouble it might actually bring).

After another hour or so, the women escort a hilariously drunk bride out of the inn, and not too long after, the dining room clears of other locals making their ways home. Deprived of the evening’s entertainment, Wei Wuxian grabs his half-full jar of wine and goes up to his own room to the awaiting bath. But afterward, it’s way too early to go to sleep, so he settles himself at the table in his sleeping robe with his jar of wine and pulls out ink and paper. He may have decided that visiting Lan Zhan is out of the question right now, but he thinks a letter wouldn’t be a bother. It’s been a while since he sent one last.

He grinds a little ink and puts brush to paper, the jar of wine in his other hand and a smile on his face.

Greetings to His Excellency –
Lan Zhan!
This humble one apologizes for such a long length of time since the last letter, but I know the merciful and gracious Hanguang-jun will forgive this one.

Wei Wuxian chuckles lowly as he tips the jar of wine up and takes a hearty drink. He knows Lan Zhan would never do something as common as roll his eyes, but he’s sure the man will radiate the sentiment with all his being as he reads the letter’s opening.

I find myself in a little town and an actual inn tonight with some time on my hands and good wine in reach. Of course, I’d want to share my good mood with Lan Zhan!
I spent my evening in the inn’s dining room listening to all the town’s gossip. Now, now, Lan Zhan, I can already hear you reciting the rules and calling me shameless from here, but is it really my fault if the townsfolk talk so loudly without regard to their neighbors? I can’t meditate and eat at the same time, you know! It’s not my fault I heard their conversations.
Anyway, it wasn’t so bad as what you Lans must think gossip consists of to have it explicitly forbidden in Cloud Recesses. Lan Zhan – there’s a wedding around the corner! But the poor bride is at her wits’ end with her mother’s high demands for perfection. Get this, Lan Zhan – the mother’s most recent disgruntlement is over chickens! Of all things! She says if the chickens aren’t good, the bride won’t have a good marriage. Ah, but of course, you need good chickens to lead you down a good route, right, Lan Zhan?

As he finishes the last stroke on Lan Zhan’s name, Wei Wuxian is struck by a memory, and he sets the jar down with a laugh and sits up to bend over the page eagerly, excitement and amusement dancing through his fingers as he puts the brush to paper again.

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Ah, I’m suddenly reminded of our journey with Chifeng-zun’s sword spirit. You don’t remember, of course, because it happened the night you drank my wine. Ah, you fuddy-duddy lightweight. You’re lucky you were with me! Lan Zhan was very adventurous that night! You broke into someone’s courtyard and tried to steal their chickens! You were like the bride’s mom, very concerned that they needed to be very good chickens when you tried to give—

Wei Wuxian pauses his brush even as the thought completes itself in his head: Lan Zhan tried to give me chickens.

Ink drips onto the page as he brings up the memory of that night. Lan Zhan had motioned him to follow into the courtyard and had gone straight to the chicken cages, grabbed one, and pushed it into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Take it,” he’d said.

“Why are you giving me a rooster?” Wei Wuxian had asked even as he’d taken the offered chicken.

Lan Zhan hadn’t replied, only grabbed another chicken and thrust it at him, asking, “Are they good or not?”

Completely confused, Wei Wuxian had hesitantly agreed that yes, they were really good. And then Lan Zhan, with a very serious look on his face, had pushed the chickens at him again and said, “They’re all for you.”

Wei Wuxian had thought the alcohol had released a previously unknown crazy side of Lan Zhan and been delighted by the prospect. But as he stares down at the letter and sees the juxtaposition of the bride’s story and Lan Zhan’s actions, he has to wonder if he’s the crazier one after all. Because, certainly, Lan Zhan hadn’t been giving him route-leading chickens, had he?

Wei Wuxian can feel heat suffuse his face, and he drops the brush to the table as he scrambles for the wine, drinking deeply from the jar. He tears it away and gasps for breath, caring little for the wine that splashes down his chin at the frantic move.

Lan Zhan couldn’t have possibly been giving him chickens for that purpose, Wei Wuxian is sure. It was just a crazy thought drunk Lan Zhan had had, to take someone’s chickens. That’s all it had been.

But then why give them to Wei Wuxian, specifically? Why did they have to be good before Wei Wuxian could accept them?

Wei Wuxian brings the jar of wine back to his lips and drains it, trying to dispel the thoughts and questions from his mind. Lan Zhan had been drunk and thought theft and vandalism was a good time, the end. There were no route-leading chickens for Wei Wuxian.

He stares blankly at his unfinished letter, the empty wine jar still in his hand, and decides it’s time for bed. But, of course, he’s not tired, and the thoughts and questions come trickling back into his head. Only this time, they aren’t about what Lan Zhan meant by the chickens but rather, now that the concept is out there, they’re about what he wants them to have meant. Because—

No. Wei Wuxian cuts that thought off before it can form and shifts to his side, his back to the table upon which the unfinished letter still lies.

Stupid, to have thought about it at all. And it’s also probably stupid to continue on to Gusu. That would just mean his brain will constantly think about it the closer he gets to Lan Zhan, even if he’s already decided that he wouldn’t actually bother Lan Zhan this trip. So, Wei Wuxian decides that in the morning, he and Little Apple will turn right around and get lost somewhere in the wide jianghu, until these silly thoughts are buried and gone. He shuts his eyes and wills sleep to come.

(In the morning, he and Little Apple start the three-day journey to Gusu, and Wei Wuxian calls himself a fool.)

~*~

Because he’s a fool and can’t help himself, or rather because he can’t convince himself not to, Wei Wuxian walks the long road to Gusu. Slowly, though, muttering to himself and Little Apple in turn about how he’s crazy to be giving any kind of meaning to chickens that Lan Zhan can’t remember and cursing the bride who felt the need to be so loud about her own chicken problems in the first place.

“I mean, I can’t give any meaning to chickens shoved toward me in a drunken stupor, right?” he asks Little Apple.

And he almost answers himself, too – “Right. There’s no meaning if there’s no cognition.” But he can’t even lie to himself like that. He immediately refutes the idea that Lan Zhan didn’t have any awareness. The man carved his name perfectly into that wooden beam! He also fought off Su She and even remembered that part the next morning. So, no, Wei Wuxian can say Lan Zhan doesn’t remember what he did, but he can’t in good faith say that Lan Zhan didn’t know what he was doing while he did it.

“So, what do the chickens mean?” he whines out loud, alone on the open road for the moment. He pouts and hops up on Little Apple, who is not happy at that, and pulls out Chenqing to play a pitiful tune to match his mood.

He comes upon various travelers down the long road and ends up in a better mood through socializing and playing upbeat little ditties for the children that happen to be in the groups, going long stretches of time not even thinking about the question that had been plaguing him. Before he knows it, he’s coming up on a rather large town in the early evening and decides he deserves and can still afford a comfortable night at an inn as he crosses its outer fringes.

He dismounts from Little Apple and leads the recalcitrant donkey into the marketplace, working his usual charm to find out if anything unnatural might be happening. And he’s in luck on that front, as it turns out this town might be in the middle of a haunting. Whatever had happened must have happened recently, as the town leader was not yet desperate enough to reach out to Gusu Lan, or so Wei Wuxian is told. He also asks after a good inn and is pointed the way.

He thanks the auntie running the stall for the information and the food he’d purchased in exchange and turns to head off in that direction when his eye catches on a nearby stall. The merchant sees his attention and waves him over.

“Ah, Gongzi, what has captured your eye this evening? Perhaps you need feed for your donkey?”

He’s waving at some sacks of equine feed piled next to bales of hay, but what had actually caught Wei Wuxian’s eye and brought him up short are the cages of chickens stacked on one side of the stall’s flat surface. The merchant looks from Wei Wuxian’s face to the cages and smiles.

“Ah, Gongzi has a discerning eye! Our farm’s chickens are the best you’ll find within one hundred li for whatever use! They lay beautiful and tasty eggs! You’ll find no better chickens for your wife’s kitchen pans! Are you married, Gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs nervously. “I’m afraid I haven’t had that kind of luck.”

“No? Do you have a sister, then, Gongzi? These chickens will be the best for your sister’s new home!”

Wei Wuxian chokes on an indrawn breath at that, Lan Zhan open-faced and asking if the chickens were good flashing through his mind. He places a hand to his chest as he coughs and uses the other to wave away the merchant’s concern. When he can speak again, he gives the merchant a strained smile and says, “Ah, I’m just a wanderer and have no need for chickens. I was only struck by how… glossy the feathers are.”

The merchant is pleased by this and rolls into extoling the many virtues of his chickens, and it’s several long moments before Wei Wuxian can extract himself from the conversation and head toward the inn.

There, he’s treated to many “Thank you, Daozhang” from the owner and staff when he mentions his intention to look into their haunting and is given a discount on his room and free meal. He passes the hours until true dark as he did before, listening in on the inn’s other patrons and even engages in some conversation to get more information on the supposed haunting. It does sound like a legitimate problem the more he hears, so once deep night comes, he exits the inn and heads over to the abandoned smithy to see what’s going on.

In the end, it’s the unsettled spirit of a man who’d been thrown from his horse, convinced the smith who’s shoed the beast had been negligent and hadn’t been placated by running the man out of town. Wei Wuxian brings Chenqing to his lips and plays a soothing tune, telling the spirit in a gentle way that it’s useless to linger, and lets out a great sigh as the resentful energy dissipates into nothing.

“Aiyah,” he says into the empty smithy. “Not that I’m ungrateful for easily resolved night hunts, but a man sure misses the excitement sometimes.”

“Wei-gongzi is too skilled,” a voice says from behind him, and Wei Wuxian jumps with a startled cry and whirls around.

“Wen Ning!” he cries out when he picks his friend out of the shadows. “You should know better than to sneak up on a defenseless man!”

“I only thought to give you some of that excitement you were missing, Gongzi,” Wen Ning dares to say to him, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh. He makes his way over and throws his arm around Wen Ning’s shoulder, guiding him away from the smithy and back toward the inn and the jar of wine awaiting him in his room.

“What brings you here, Wen Ning?” he asks as they walk.

“I’m returning from an errand. I was passing through the forest that borders this town when I heard your dizi.”

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian says with exaggerated curiosity. “What errand could the fierce Gui Jiangjun be running in the dead of night, I wonder? Something evil, perhaps, commanded by that nefarious Yiling Laozu?”

“The errand was run in broad daylight, Gongzi. The return trip is at night,” Wen Ning teases back. But then he adds, “Xiandu asked a favor.”

Wei Wuxian trips slightly at that, but he rights himself quickly and clears his throat, hoping it wasn’t obvious (but knowing it’s unlikely). “Oh, and what sort of favor?” he asks to distract Wen Ning from asking what’s wrong.

Wen Ning tells a pretty amusing tale about a game of back and forth between Lan Zhan and Nie Huaisang over a cursed artifact of some kind, wherein Nie Huaisang had asked Lan Zhan to send someone to look it over or take it away, Lan Zhan had responded that Nie Huaisang had his own cultivators at his disposal, Nie Huaisang had whined that surely Gusu Lan was more well-versed in “things steeped in resentful energy,” and Lan Zhan had sent the Ghost General as “an expert in things steeped in resentful energy.” Wen Ning ends his tale with the comment that Nie Huaisang, as well as his guards and advisors, only untensed once he stepped foot out of the Impure Realm to return to Gusu.

As distractions go, Wei Wuxian thinks it’s a pretty good one until they’re settled in his room at the inn and Wen Ning asks, “Is something the matter, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian chokes a bit on the mouthful of wine he’d just taken and coughs and sputters for a moment before laughing nervously. “Nothing’s the matter, Wen Ning! What makes you ask such a silly question?”

Wen Ning tilts his head slightly and says, “You seemed unsettled when I mentioned Lan-xiandu earlier.”

Wei Wuxian sputters again, this time not having the excuse of choking on his wine. He feels the heat of a blush creeping along his skin. “Unsettled? Why would I be unsettled just because you mentioned Lan Zhan?”

Wen Ning regards him with that guileless face and asks, “Are you heading to Gusu to visit? I think Lan-xiandu would be glad to see you.”

Instead of sputtering again or denying or saying anything that might get them off this subject, Wei Wuxian only casts his gaze down to the table and murmurs, “Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” Wen Ning answers without hesitation. Wei Wuxian lifts his eyes, and Wen Ning gives him a little earnest nod. “He’s asked me if I’ve heard from you lately.” He pauses just slightly before adding, “And A-Yuan says so. They talk about you sometimes. He says Lan-xiandu smiles, but it seems wistful. So, I think he’d like to see you, Wei-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian bites his lip as he thinks, his mind filling with an image of Lan Zhan sitting alone, surrounded by piles of petition scrolls, and maybe missing him. It’s not a great image, and it doesn’t give him a great feeling thinking that he might be even the smallest reason that Lan Zhan is sad. Maybe he could just swing by? That couldn’t hurt, right? He could scale a wall like he did before; no one would even have to know he’s there.

“Gongzi?” Wei Wuxian looks up, having momentarily forgotten he had company. Before he can grin and joke to dispel the somber atmosphere, Wen Ning continues, “Is something wrong? I’m happy to listen and help if I can.”

Wei Wuxian stares at Wen Ning, his friend for whom he’s fought and overcome literal death. Surely, he’d be able to calmly and without judgment let Wei Wuxian know he’s thinking about those chickens all wrong, right?

He clears his throat, and when that doesn’t seem to do anything for his nerves or the sudden dryness of his throat, he takes another generous sip of wine. Then he takes one more. And then polishes it off for good measure. When he sets the jar down, Wen Ning is looking at him in concern. He clears his throat again.

“Right, so, Wen Ning,” he begins, fiddling with the wine jar. “I’m going to tell you something silly. And you can help me by confirming that it’s just me overthinking it and being weird about it, okay?”

“I will hear whatever you have to tell me,” Wen Ning says with a little bob of his head, and Wei Wuxian scowls slightly. Wen Ning promised to listen, but he won’t agree with Wei Wuxian’s assessment until he’s heard whatever he has to say. Rude! He got that from Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian is sure.

He takes a deep breath and then recounts the previous night’s tale about the bride and the chickens and how he thought it was so funny because it reminded him of the time Lan Zhan got drunk and tried to give him chickens and then how he’d suddenly wondered if the chickens Lan Zhan tried to give him were those kind of chickens, because Lan Zhan was particularly focused on them needing to be good chickens, and he’s been thinking about it for almost twelve shichen now.

“So, what do you think, Wen Ning? Silly, right?” he asks at the end of his story.

Wen Ning blinks at him. “You want to know if it’s silly to think that the chickens Lan-xiandu tried to give you were intended to be route-leading chickens.”

“No, I know it’s silly to think that. I just want you to agree that it’s silly so I can stop thinking about it.”

“I don’t think it’s silly, though,” Wen Ning says frankly.

Wei Wuxian frowns at him, confused. “What do you mean? There’s no way Lan Zhan meant anything with those chickens. I just want someone to validate that thought so I can move on.”

Wen Ning blinks at him again. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Wei Wuxian hunches over a little, flitting his eyes down to the jar he’s still fiddling with in his nervousness. “What do you mean?” he repeats.

Wen Ning hums softly in thought. “Well, I can tell you what the chickens might have meant, but I think the more important question is what do you want them to mean?”

Wei Wuxian startles at the question and knocks the wine jar over. He looks up at Wen Ning and says, “Nothing! I didn’t think anything of it! Lan Zhan was drunk, and it was just some crazy thing he did.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “You didn’t think anything of it at the time. But when you realized last night that the chickens could have had some meaning, what meaning did you want them to have? If Lan-xiandu had presented you with a wedding symbol, is that something you might want from him?”

Wei Wuxian can’t answer that. At least, not honestly. To answer honestly would be to rip the veil away from the shadowy places in his mind where he shoves the things that hurt or frighten him. But to not answer at all is an answer in itself, so he deflects by saying, “I don’t think that’s relevant. I just want to figure this out so I can stop thinking about it and not make things awkward between me and Lan Zhan.”

“Wei-gongzi, I think it’s very relevant. Your feelings factor into the outcome.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs. “In what way?”

“If Lan-xiandu gave you chickens with that intention, and you don’t feel that way for him. If he had no such intention, but you wish he had. Or if his intention and your feelings are the same. I think the only way to solve your problem is to consider both questions.”

“I don’t agree,” Wei Wuxian says stubbornly.

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says, his tone a soft rebuke.

“Wen Ning,” he responds sharply to stave off anything else he might say. He suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.”

He doesn’t offer another subject, though, and Wen Ning is staring at the table dejectedly. Wei Wuxian feels a little bad about the whole thing since he was the one to ask for Wen Ning’s input, but he’s not brave enough to open the topic again. So, he’s a little surprised when Wen Ning does it instead.

“My back was to him that night in Lotus Pier, when I told Jiang-zongzhu about your core, so I never saw his reaction. But later, on the boat, when he cradled you in his arms and asked me if it had been painful, I saw the redness around his eyes and the wet sheen of them in the moonlight. I can’t say with much certainty, Wei-gongzi, but I think he cried for you. And there’s not many who have done so, so I think it means something that he did.”

Wei Wuxian can only stare, speechless, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“And if I may add, Gongzi,” Wen Ning says gently. “I also think it means something that Lan-xiandu has only worn white in the many years since you’ve been gone.”

Wei Wuxian swallows around a lump in his throat and croaks out, “Has he?” He’s not really looking for an answer, but he can acknowledge that, yes, Lan Zhan wore white in his youth but also blue, and he hadn’t seen much of it (or any at all) in Lan Zhan’s wardrobe during their journey together. Was the white for him? Had Lan Zhan mourned him when no one else had?

He’s suddenly reminded of a different part of that night, when he’d thought Lan Zhan’s drunken state would make him more willing to answer questions.

“Why do you help me?” he’d asked softly, wanting to know why someone good and righteous like Lan Zhan allowed someone who’d committed so many sins like him to roam free and help him in his investigation.

“I have my regret,” Lan Zhan had answered.

“What regret?” he’d asked, for what could the upstanding Second Jade have to regret in his life?

Lan Zhan had remained silent for a moment and then said, “At Nightless City, I wasn’t by your side.”

That answer had brought him near to tears then, and it does again now. He’d told Lan Zhan then that none of Wei Wuxian’s choices or fate had anything to do with him, but he’d shown Wei Wuxian otherwise, hadn’t he? A similar fate had seemed to be upon him at Golden Carp Tower that night he’d been discovered, and Lan Zhan had determinedly and blatantly stood by his side in front of the cultivation world. And again, at the Burial Mounds. And then he’d sealed his qi when Wei Wuxian had been captured by Jin Guangyao, all to keep him safe.

Thinking about them all together in hindsight, they were the actions of someone who cared for Wei Wuxian very much, weren’t they? In fact, there had been no moment since their reunion that Lan Zhan hadn’t been by his side. Until Wei Wuxian left his. And Lan Zhan had let him.

(Which makes him think of the time Lan Zhan hadn’t let go, in Nightless City, not until Wei Wuxian had made him. He shies away from that thought but wonders, suddenly, if he somehow made Lan Zhan let go this time, too.)

“Gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian looks up. Wen Ning has a contrite expression on his face, and Wei Wuxian wonders what expression is on his own for Wen Ning to regret having said anything. He sniffs and blinks his eyes before straightening his posture and clearing his throat.

“What do you think I should do?” he asks quietly, not admitting anything. But he probably doesn’t have to. Wen Ning wouldn’t have said what he did if he hadn’t known something.

“I think,” Wen Ning says just as quietly, “That the easiest way to put the subject to rest is to talk to Lan-xiandu about it.”

Wei Wuxian laughs slightly at that. “Talk to Lan Zhan about his feelings? How frightening!” He pauses a moment and then adds, “Plus, Lan Zhan hasn’t said anything. Wouldn’t he have if he had anything to say?”

“You haven’t said anything either, Gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t have a rebuttal to that very true statement. But he’d been just as truthful – the thought of talking to Lan Zhan about all of this is probably the most frightening thing he can think of. He honestly doesn’t think he has the courage to see it through. Besides, are words even needed between them?

He thinks back over this whole conversation with Wen Ning. Then he thinks back over all the things he and Lan Zhan misunderstood about each other because they couldn’t communicate effectively (or at all) in his first life.

Okay, yes, words are probably needed. And maybe a gesture, to help when he inevitably messes up the words. He’s just not sure what such a gesture would look like, what would be good enough to speak on its own if his words fail him.

There’s not much more to talk about after Wei Wuxian resolves to continue on to Gusu with a new intention to see Lan Zhan, at the very least, so he lies down to get a few hours of sleep before he and Wen Ning head out.

And in the morning, when they stop at a stall in the market for breakfast, Wei Wuxian’s eye catches on those chickens again, and what might turn out to be a really stupid idea forms in his head.

(He’s two days out from Gusu, accompanied by a fierce corpse, a donkey, and two very expensive chickens, and Wei Wuxian once again calls himself a fool.)

~*~

They’re able to stop at a little town around midday where Wei Wuxian uses the last of his money to purchase some buns for lunch, which means the likelihood of having to rough it in the woods for the night increases. That’s not a problem, though, as he’s used to it, and a good thing, too, since they don’t actually come upon another settlement before nightfall anyway.

They set up a makeshift camp a little way off the road near a small stream, and Wei Wuxian catches a few fish and roasts them for dinner. Then he and Wen Ning spend some time talking until Wei Wuxian gets more and more distracted by his upcoming reunion with Lan Zhan, and they lapse into silence. And then Wei Wuxian is bedding down for the night, looking at an earlier start than usual so that maybe they can reach Caiyi Town by tomorrow night.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep with the way his nerves have been steadily rising over the course of the day, spiking with each ornery cluck of the chickens (seriously, they’re just as poorly behaved as Little Apple, he thinks), but he knows he did when he’s suddenly startled awake by the combined screams of chicken and donkey. Wei Wuxian is up and holding Chenqing before he’s even removed the sleep grit from his eyes, and as he comes fully awake, he takes in the bizarre scene before him.

Wen Ning is wrestling the chicken cage from a woman in red robes. Wei Wuxian blinks and then rubs at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. And yes, that’s Wen Ning wrestling the chicken cage from a woman in red robes.

To be more precise, now that he’s more awake, Wen Ning is wrestling the cage from a ghost woman. He watches a moment longer, just the slightest bit dumbfounded by the sight, and then he whistles sharply, bringing both corpse and ghost to a halt. When the squawking of chickens dies down to just a few irritated clucks, Wei Wuxian says, “What a daring ghost, to steal my chickens.”

The ghost woman scoffs and says, “And who are you to stop me?” She gives his travel-stained robes a disgusted look. “I’ll take these chickens and leave you your life in exchange.”

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes at the ghost even though he’s amused and intrigued by her threat. But he’s more annoyed than anything right now, so he crosses his arms, Chenqing now placed prominently against his chest, and whistles again, gaining brief control over the ghost and forcing her to release the cage and take a few steps back. Then he relinquishes control and watches her blink dazedly as Wen Ning secures the cage in his grip and retreats to Wei Wuxian’s side.

When she’s more coherent, the ghost scowls at him but makes no move to attack. “What did you do to me? Give me those chickens!”

Ignoring the first part, Wei Wuxian asks, “Why do you want them?”

“That’s my business!”

“And these are my chickens. Tell me why you want them, or I'll banish your soul from this realm.”

The ghost scoffs again. “As if you could.” She drags her eyes up and down his form again. “You’re no cultivator. I see no sword.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head slightly, a predatory grin slicing across his face. “Yiling Laozu has no need for a sword, Guniang.”

The ghost opens her mouth to retort, perhaps, but pauses, her eyes glancing over everything again – his black robes, the black flute, the fierce corpse standing obediently by his side. Then her eyes widen, and if she wasn’t already pale from death, Wei Wuxian is sure she’d be deathly pale at what she’s piecing together. She throws herself on the ground and begins to babble her apologies. He would stop her, but she had tried to steal his chickens – his very important chickens – so he lets it go on for a little bit longer.

“All right, all right, enough of that,” he says eventually, uncrossing his arms to put his hands on his hips. “Now, what do you want with my chickens?”

“Laozu,” the ghost says, still prostrated. “This one is Fei Jing. I died on my wedding day. My bridal procession was attacked by bandits, and this one lost her life. I have not known peace since, tormented by my unluckiness of not having chickens in my dowry.”

Wei Wuxian is reminded of the bride from the other night (or rather, her mother), and has to keep himself from rolling his eyes. The bandits probably would have attacked even if she’d had chickens. Honestly, these women were putting too much stock in the poultry. (He ignores the little voice in his head saying that he’s no better since he’s trying to find meaning in a couple of chickens himself.)

“That doesn’t explain why you want my chickens now,” he says. “You’re already dead.” Wen Ning shoots him a sad, disapproving look, but he’s working on little sleep and a lot of nerves here! She should get to the point if she wants compassion.

The ghost presses herself closer to the ground, if that’s even possible. “Laozu, this one understands that there is no blissful future for myself in this life, but my intended was my first and only love and deserves such a future, even if it’s without me. I want to give him the chickens, to make sure he has a guided path to happiness.”

Okay, but that’s why he needs the chickens! To give to Lan Zhan so that they, together, while still living, might have a blissful future. If Lan Zhan feels the same way, anyway. So, he can’t be giving away his chickens to some ghost bride to give to some guy who’s technically no longer her groom. Who’s probably already married to someone else and got chickens from her!

Wei Wuxian frowns and says nothing, but then Wen Ning says, “Wei-gongzi,” with a slightly pleading tone and a sad, pathetic look on his face, and he groans as he gives in.

“Ugh. Is this the only way you’ll find peace and move on to the afterlife?”

“Yes, Laozu. It’s this one’s only wish.”

He lets out a giant sigh and bends his head back to look at the sky, wondering what he ever did wrong in his life to be so burdened now (except he knows, but this just seems silly for divine retribution), and then looks back at the ghost.

“Fine, but we’re going now. Get up, get up. Which way to the groom?”

And so, Wei Wuxian finds himself in front of another house in the middle of the night on a strange whim involving chickens. The (former) groom is understandably concerned when he opens the door late at night to find a man in black, a fierce corpse, and the ghost of his (former) bride. He tries to slam the door shut, but Wei Wuxian is having none of that.

“Li Haorong,” he says as he brings his hand up against the wooden door. “Is this anyway to greet A-Jing when she’s come all this way with a gift for you?” He pushes the door open and steps through, causing the man to scuttle backward to avoid being hit. “Apologies for barging in, but A-Jing must give you something in order for her soul to rest peacefully. We’ll be on our way when she’s done.”

The ghost steps in after him, but Wen Ning stays outside. She kneels on the floor and places the two chickens before her, bowing over them. From the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian sees movement, and when he looks up, a young woman is peeking out from around the room’s partition, and he motions her to go away. He is not dealing with the man’s wife on top of his ghost bride, nope.

“A-Rong,” the ghost says sadly. “It was a cruel fate that tore us apart before we could be together, but it is a comfort to me to know that you live on. I have always loved only you, and I wish you every happiness and joy in this life and those to come. So, please accept this meager gift to lead you toward a blissful and prosperous future.”

There’s a moment where no one does anything except for the man looking at Wei Wuxian uncertainly, who gives him a wide-eyed, meaningful look with a nod toward where the ghost is kneeling. The man slowly lowers himself to kneel in front of her.

“A-Jing, you’re very kind to worry about me after the tragedy that befell you,” he starts. He lifts a hand to perhaps touch her but pulls it back and lays both hands on his thighs. “I thank you for this gift, and I hope you also find happiness and joy in your next life.”

Wei Wuxian is very much aware of the difference of feeling between the two, and he actively keeps from thinking about how this could very well be him and Lan Zhan – one man saying, “I love you,” and the other one saying, “Thank you,” and nothing else. But it seems to be enough for the ghost, because she lifts herself from the bow and smiles brightly at her (former) groom.

“All right, we’ve bothered him enough. It’s time to rest, Fei Jing,” he says and gently helps her from the floor and ushers her out the door toward Wen Ning. Before he joins them, though, he turns around and says quietly, “Okay, I’m going to need those chickens back.”

“What?” the man asks.

“See, those are my chickens that serve a very important purpose. So, I’m going to lay her to rest, and then I’ll be back for my chickens.”

The man just blinks at him, understandably confused, and Wei Wuxian decides to just leave it at that for now. He steps out into the pre-dawn (because it took a while to get to the town), and then they make their way toward the town graveyard where he lays the ghost to rest, silently wishing her a better marriage (and a better groom) in her next life.

He returns to the house to collect his chickens, thankfully without any hassle from the still bemused man and his wife, and then he and Wen Ning make their way back to the main road and decide to continue on since it’s close to morning anyway.

“I’m having second thoughts,” he says as they walk. “These chickens are clearly unlucky.”

“How so, Wei-gongzi?”

“Well, first, they practically emptied my money pouch, and then they attracted a ghost thief. So, obviously, they can’t be good enough chickens to give to Lan Zhan.”

“I would think being expensive would mean they are good enough, but I agree with you in general,” Wen Ning says, which surprises Wei Wuxian enough to bring him up short, and he stares at Wen Ning in shock. Wen Ning shrugs slightly. “I think you should talk to Lan-xiandu rather than hope he understands what you mean by handing him chickens.”

Wei Wuxian makes an offended noise. “But that’s what Lan Zhan did!”

“And look where that got either of you,” Wen Ning retorts, and how dare this corpse he raised with his own two hands use good points to argue against him!

Wei Wuxian lets out a disgruntled huff. “Fine.” He grabs Little Apple’s reins and starts walking again. “But I’m giving him these chickens. It’d be a waste not to, which is against the rules.”

“Of course, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says in a very patronizing tone that Wei Wuxian chooses to ignore.

It’s the last day of the journey to Gusu. They should be there by nightfall; though, with such an early start, they could probably make it all the way to Cloud Recesses. And then Wei Wuxian will see Lan Zhan and give him the chickens and say… something. He’s not sure what, but he has a few shichen to think about what he can say without making a fool of himself.

(Too late. He’s already a fool. But he’s a fool in love, and it’s said that fortune favors those who dare. He only hopes that Lan Zhan favors those who dare, too.)

~*~

They’re making extremely good time; Little Apple is being very cooperative today, and they’re so close to their destination that Wei Wuxian can practically taste the Emperor’s Smile (not that he can afford it, the chickens having emptied his purse, but he’s counting on Lan Zhan having a jar or two set aside for him, in flagrant violation of the rules, so that maybe he can partake in some liquid courage before he starts talking).

At a point where the road breaks off in several directions, Wen Ning says his goodbye. His destination, apparently, wasn’t Cloud Recesses, as he has another errand to run, but his journey allowed him to accompany Wei Wuxian this far.

“I won’t be long,” he says as they pause at the crossroads. “It will be nice to visit more if you’re still in the area when I return.”

Wei Wuxian has no guarantee he will be. If Lan Zhan doesn’t accept his chickens (or his heart), it might be too awkward to hang around. But he doesn’t want to worry Wen Ning, who is very optimistic about the outcome here, so he just smiles and says, “We have a bond like no one else, Wen Ning. You can always find me.”

Wen Ning nods, bows, and then turns and makes his way down his road. Wei Wuxian watches for a few moments and then continues down the road toward Cloud Recesses. But without Wen Ning there to keep up a brave face for, his nerves and doubts start to get the best of him. So, after a while, he pulls Little Apple off the road and heads into the hills, talking to himself or Little Apple or even the chickens as he wanders the Gusu countryside trying to find the resolve to continue.

Eventually, he stops wandering and stares out over the hills and valleys, the mountains in the distance, taking in the breathtaking beauty of Gusu and letting it calm his mind. He breathes in and out, letting in peace and letting out anxiety, and then he brings Chenqing to his lips and plays.

It’s almost second nature now to play the song that Lan Zhan wrote whenever he’s feeling sad or homesick for a home he doesn’t have, but also when he’s happy or remembering good moments or just wanting to feel close to Lan Zhan, like he could open his eyes and Lan Zhan would be there, listening to him play with a small, soft smile on his face.

Right now, he just hopes for clarity. His nerves and doubts are muddling him up, twisting his resolve until he’s unsure if this is even a good idea. Even if Lan Zhan does return his feelings, is it really good for him as person to be associated with Wei Wuxian, let alone as Chief Cultivator?

But the song does as it usually does, taking him out of his head and into the music. It’s an evocative piece, full of such longing for something that the musician can’t have but also such joy and contentment that whatever it is exists at all. Wei Wuxian can’t really call it a happy song, but he can’t say it’s sad either.

Lan Zhan must have had some very deep emotions about whatever inspired this song. Wei Wuxian wishes he knew what those were – the emotions and the inspiration. But Lan Zhan won’t even tell him the name of the song, there’s no way that he would—

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian stops playing abruptly, but he can’t make any other move for a moment, frozen in disbelief. Did he really just hear that? If he turns around, will Lan Zhan really be there?

He swallows nervously and slowly lowers his hands. Then he takes a steadying breath and slowly turns.

Lan Zhan is just behind him, his beautiful robes and elegant guan sparkling in the sun. He’s radiant, befitting Hanguang-jun, and he’s here on a random hill in Gusu calling out Wei Wuxian’s name like he always has – with affection and tenderness.

Wei Wuxian’s nerves and doubts scatter like parting clouds, and he slowly smiles, an affectionate and tender thing in return.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, stepping toward him.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again, because he doesn’t need to say anything else. There are poems and songs and scrolls of prose held in those two syllables, and Wei Wuxian has been a fool not to hear it before. But he hears it now, and his courage soars.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I know it’s been a while, but I hope I’m not an unwelcome surprise.”

“Never,” Lan Zhan replies, and Wei Wuxian laughs, his heart floating on a wave of hope.

“I brought you something, Lan Zhan,” he says and turns toward Little Apple. He frees the chicken cage from its fastenings and turns back to face Lan Zhan, thrusting it out toward Lan Zhan’s chest eagerly. When Lan Zhan just stares at it, he says, “For you.”

Lan Zhan slowly reaches out and places his hands underneath Wei Wuxian’s where they support the cage. “Why are you giving me chickens?” he asks.

Wei Wuxian laughs. It must seem weird, as it had to him back when Lan Zhan did it. But he’s not drunk and can explain, so he does.

“I was writing you a letter, Lan Zhan. I was telling you a funny story about a bride’s frustration with her route-leading chickens, and I suddenly remembered that there had been a time that you tried to steal someone’s chickens and give them to me.”

Lan Zhan’s face, though moving very little, expresses some doubt at those words, and Wei Wuxian laughs again.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you don’t remember because you were drunk! It was that night Su She tried to steal the sword spirit from our inn. Before that, you broke into a courtyard and tried to give me chickens.” He lets his smile fade from amused to something gentler. “I didn’t understand then, and maybe I’m misunderstanding now, but I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of days. And if… if the chickens you were trying to give me were you trying to say something, well, I want to say the same thing.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says softly, eyes wide and his hands gripping more firmly around Wei Wuxian’s. “The same thing?”

“Well, I hope it’s the same thing. But I brought you these chickens because… I want us to have a blissful future together, however that may look.” When Lan Zhan still doesn’t move to take the chickens or say anything, Wei Wuxian shifts slightly and begins to pull them back toward himself. “If you don’t want them—”

“No!” Lan Zhan interrupts, and it’s such a surprise that Wei Wuxian nearly bites his tongue for how quickly his mouth snaps shut. He stares at Lan Zhan, wide-eyed, taking in the red hue that has come over Lan Zhan’s ears.

“No?” he eventually echoes.

“I accept,” Lan Zhan says quickly and pulls the cage and Wei Wuxian’s hands closer to him. “I would also like us to have a blissful future together, Wei Ying. As partners. In this life and the next and all those to come.”

Wei Wuxian looks down as a ridiculously happy smile overtakes his face. Lan Zhan lowers the cage between them, and Wei Wuxian looks back up. There’s a softness and a joy in Lan Zhan’s eyes that he’s never seen before, and oh, maybe the song was for him?

“Lan Zhan,” he says quietly and then slowly leans forward, unsure how this works, really, but wanting it all the same. Lan Zhan leans in to meet him, and their lips touch in a soft, chaste kiss. It’s nothing like the spring books describe; it’s so much better, a sweet promise. His heart is thumping madly in his chest, like a bird seeking its freedom to soar through the blue skies.

It’s everything.

They slowly make their way back to Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian filling Lan Zhan in on every detail from the past three days, their hands clasped between them. Now that the hard part is behind him and he’s well on his way to his happily ever after, Wei Wuxian’s playful spirit has returned. He smiles mischievously at Lan Zhan as he swings their hands between them.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! So, shall we put the chickens under the bed to find out what our first born will be?”

Lan Zhan says, “Ridiculous,” but he smiles slightly and squeezes his hand.

Wei Wuxian laughs and then hums lightly. “Well, then, at least now you can tell me the name of the song, right? I think it’s about me anyway, so you should be happy to tell me the name now.”

Lan Zhan gives him a fond look and squeezes his hand again. “Think for yourself. And if you still don’t know, I’ll tell you on the day we wed.”

At that, Wei Wuxian squawks louder than the chickens.

The End