Work Text:
Shadows That Bind
Lan Wangji X Wei Wuxian
The afternoon sun filtered through the ornate lattice windows of the Cloud Recesses library pavilion, casting geometric patterns across the pristine white floors. Wei Wuxian slouched at his desk, chin propped on one hand, watching dust motes dance in the light rather than focusing on Lan Qiren's lecture about proper talisman construction. His brush had long since stopped moving across the practice paper before him, instead creating idle doodles in the margins—a lotus flower, a rabbit, what might have been a very unflattering caricature of their teacher.
Across the room, Lan Wangji sat with perfect posture, his attention seemingly fixed on the lecture, though Wei Wuxian had caught him glancing over more than once. Each time their eyes met, Lan Wangji would look away with what Wei Wuxian had begun to think of as his "deeply disapproving" expression—which looked remarkably similar to all his other expressions, if he was being honest.
"Wei Wuxian!" Lan Qiren's sharp voice cut through his daydreaming. "Perhaps you'd like to explain the seventeen methods of purifying resentful energy?"
Wei Wuxian straightened, flashing his most charming grin. "Well, Teacher Lan, there are actually eighteen methods if you count—"
"Silence!" Lan Qiren's beard quivered with indignation. "Your flippant attitude is a disgrace to your sect and an insult to the Lan discipline. You will join Wangji on tonight's night hunt. Perhaps facing actual danger will teach you the seriousness required of a cultivator."
Wei Wuxian's grin widened even as he heard Jiang Cheng groan from somewhere behind him. A night hunt with Lan Zhan? This could be interesting. Or incredibly boring. Probably both.
Lan Wangji's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those golden eyes—resignation, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. Wei Wuxian couldn't quite tell.
The evening air was cool as they set out, the last rays of sunlight painting the mountain peaks in shades of orange and pink. Wei Wuxian walked with his characteristic bounce, Suibian strapped to his back, while Lan Wangji moved with quiet grace beside him, Bichen gleaming at his side.
"So, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian began cheerfully, "what exactly are we hunting? Lan-laoshi was rather vague about the details. Fierce corpses? Vengeful spirits? Or maybe just some lost rabbits that need rescuing?"
"Yaoguai," Lan Wangji replied, his voice low and measured. "The villagers report strange disturbances. Seven people have disappeared over the past month, only to return days later with no memory of where they've been. They speak of nightmares that felt real, of being trapped in endless cycles of suffering."
Wei Wuxian's playful demeanor dimmed slightly. "That's... unsettling. Any pattern to the victims?"
"No. Young and old, cultivators and common folk alike." Lan Wangji paused at a fork in the path, examining the ground. In the fading light, Wei Wuxian could just make out traces of dark energy, like oil stains on the earth. "The resentful energy leads this way."
They followed the trail deeper into the mountains, the cheerful birdsong of earlier giving way to an oppressive silence. Even the wind seemed hesitant to stir the leaves here.
"You know," he said, partly to break the tension, "this is probably the longest conversation we've had since I arrived at Cloud Recesses. Usually you just glare at me and say 'boring' or 'shameless.'"
Lan Wangji's ears turned faintly pink, visible even in the dimming light. "I do not glare."
"You absolutely do! You have at least five different types of glares. There's the 'Wei Wuxian is being loud' glare, the 'Wei Wuxian is breaking rules' glare, the 'Wei Wuxian is talking during meditation' glare—"
"Wei Ying." The use of his courtesy name stopped Wei Wuxian mid-sentence. Lan Wangji had paused, his hand on Bichen's hilt. "We're here."
The cave entrance loomed before them, a dark mouth in the mountainside. Resentful energy poured from it like smoke, thick and cloying. Wei Wuxian's cultivator instincts, honed by years of training with Jiang Fengmian, immediately recognized the danger. This wasn't a simple haunting or a mindless fierce corpse. Whatever dwelt within was intelligent, patient, and very hungry.
"Let me guess," Wei Wuxian said, his tone lighter than he felt. "We're going in there?"
"Mn." Lan Wangji formed a hand seal, and a soft golden light bloomed from his palm, pushing back the darkness. "Stay close."
"Lan Zhan, are you worried about me? I'm touched." But Wei Wuxian did move closer, grateful for the light and—though he wouldn't admit it—the solid presence of Lan Wangji beside him.
The cave was larger than it appeared from outside, the walls slick with moisture and something else—a dark residue that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The resentful energy grew thicker with each step, pressing against Wei Wuxian's senses like a physical weight. His spiritual energy rose instinctively in response, ready to defend.
They found the yaoguai in the cave's heart—if it could be called finding when it revealed itself so readily. The creature was unlike anything Wei Wuxian had encountered before. It had no solid form, existing instead as a writhing mass of shadows and half-formed faces, the tormented expressions of its victims rippling across its surface like reflections in dark water.
"Interesting," Wei Wuxian murmured, already analyzing. "It feeds on mental anguish, not spiritual energy directly. The nightmares aren't side effects—they're the point. It's farming suffering."
The yaoguai's response was a sound between a laugh and a wail, echoing off the cave walls. Then it struck.
Wei Wuxian was fast, already moving, talismans flying from his fingers in a practiced pattern. They ignited in mid-air, forming a barrier of spiritual energy. But the yaoguai's attack wasn't physical—shadow tendrils passed through the barrier like it wasn't there, wrapping around Wei Wuxian's legs and arms.
"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji's blade sang as he drew Bichen, slashing through the shadows. But for every tendril he cut, two more emerged.
Wei Wuxian felt the world beginning to blur, the cave walls melting like watercolors in rain. He tried to channel his spiritual energy, to break free, but the yaoguai's grip was iron-strong despite its insubstantial appearance. The last thing he saw was Lan Wangji's face, those golden eyes wide with something that might have been fear, before everything went black.
When awareness returned, Wei Wuxian was standing on a dock he knew better than his own reflection.
Lotus Pier spread before him in all its vibrant beauty—wooden walkways stretching over mirror-still water, lotus flowers blooming in shades of pink and white, their perfume heavy in the summer air. The Jiang clan banners snapped in the breeze, purple as fresh bruises. Home, his heart whispered. Except it had never truly been home, had it?
"Wei Wuxian!" The voice cracked like thunder, and he flinched before he could stop himself. Madam Yu emerged from the main hall, Zidian already crackling purple lightning around her wrist. Her beautiful face was twisted with rage—an expression Wei Wuxian had seen countless times, directed at him more often than not.
"What did you do this time?" she demanded, closing the distance between them with purposeful strides. "I heard from the market vendors that you caused a scene, embarrassing the Jiang name with your foolish antics!"
Wei Wuxian's mouth moved automatically, the old defenses rising. "Madam Yu, I was just—"
"Just what? Just being yourself?" She laughed bitterly. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're not Jiang. You'll never be Jiang, no matter how much my husband indulges you. You're a charity case, a stray dog we took in, and you repay our kindness by dragging my son's reputation through the mud!"
The whip lashed out. Wei Wuxian tried to dodge—he always tried to dodge—but Zidian was faster. Pain exploded across his shoulders, white-hot and electric. He stumbled, catching himself against a support post.
"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng's voice, tight with frustration and something that might have been concern. His martial brother appeared from around the corner, fists clenched at his sides. "What did you do now?"
"Nothing!" The lie came easily, practiced. Wei Wuxian straightened, forcing a grin despite the pain radiating down his back. "Just a misunderstanding, Jiang Cheng. You know how—"
Another strike from Zidian cut off his words. This time he couldn't keep his feet, dropping to his knees on the wooden dock. Blood began to seep through his robes—he could feel the warmth spreading across his skin.
"Look at you," Madam Yu said coldly, looming over him. "Pathetic. My husband wastes his time teaching you, and for what? So you can embarrass us? So you can lead my son astray with your reckless ideas?"
Wei Wuxian kept his head down, teeth gritted against both the pain and the words. The physical wounds would heal—they always did. But the words had a way of burrowing deep, settling in the quiet spaces of his heart where he tried not to look too closely.
You're not wanted here. You're a burden. One day they'll realize keeping you was a mistake.
The scene flickered, then reset.
He was standing on the dock again, the sun beating down, Madam Yu's voice already rising in anger. The same accusations, the same whip, the same pain. Over and over, an endless loop of his worst memories, each iteration driving the lesson deeper: You don't belong. You'll never belong.
Outside the illusion, in the physical world, Wei Wuxian's body slumped against the cave wall. His face had gone pale, breathing shallow and rapid. Dark veins were beginning to spread from where the yaoguai's tendrils connected to his skin—the creature was draining not just his spiritual energy but his very life force, feeding on the anguish it was forcing him to relive.
Lan Wangji attacked with everything he had. Bichen moved in a blur, each strike precise and powerful, infused with the Lan clan's purest spiritual energy. He cut through shadow after shadow, but the yaoguai's core remained untouched, pulsing with stolen suffering at the center of its form.
"Let him go," Lan Wangji commanded, his voice carrying an authority that belied his youth. But the yaoguai only laughed—a sound like breaking glass and crying children.
To free the prey, you must sever the connection. But the connection exists in the mind, not the flesh. Will you risk yourself for this one, little Lan?
Lan Wangji didn't hesitate. He knew the technique—a forbidden method from the Lan archives, one that allowed a cultivator to merge their consciousness with another's. It was dangerous, potentially fatal if done incorrectly. But looking at Wei Wuxian's ashen face, at the way his lips moved soundlessly around words that might have been apologies, Lan Wangji found that danger didn't matter.
He sheathed Bichen and formed the necessary hand seals, his spiritual energy flowing out in golden streams. "Wei Ying," he said quietly, "I'm coming."
The world inverted.
Lan Wangji manifested in the illusion like a ghost, invisible at first, incorporeal. Lotus Pier stretched before him, beautiful and terrible. He'd visited once before, years ago, and remembered it as a warm, welcoming place. But this version was different—the colors too harsh, the shadows too deep, everything tinged with the sickly hue of resentful energy.
He found Wei Wuxian on the training grounds, younger than he should be—perhaps twelve or thirteen, still gangly with youth. A practice sword hung loosely in his hand as Madam Yu circled him like a predator.
"Again!" she commanded. "You think that pathetic form is acceptable? Jiang Cheng mastered this sequence weeks ago!"
Wei Wuxian tried again, his movements showing natural talent but lacking the polish of formal training. Jiang Fengmian was teaching him, Lan Wangji knew, but apparently not quickly enough for Madam Yu's standards.
"You're wasting everyone's time," she said coldly when he finished. "Perhaps you should return to the streets where we found you. At least there, your mediocrity wouldn't be such a disappointment."
The young Wei Wuxian's face remained carefully neutral, but Lan Wangji saw the way his hand tightened on the practice sword, knuckles going white. Saw the way he blinked rapidly, fighting back tears he'd never allow to fall.
"I'll do better," Wei Wuxian said quietly. "I promise, Madam Yu. I'll practice every day, twice as hard—"
"Promises from you are worthless." She turned away dismissively. "You're dismissed. And stay away from Jiang Cheng—your bad habits are contagious."
The scene shifted, and Lan Wangji felt himself pulled along. Now it was a feast hall, filled with visiting cultivators. Wei Wuxian—older now, perhaps fifteen—stood to the side while others laughed and talked. He wore the Jiang colors, but his robes were slightly less fine than the disciples born into the clan. A small difference, but one that clearly marked him as other.
"That's the Jiang foundling, isn't it?" one cultivator whispered, not quite quietly enough. "I heard Jiang Fengmian found him on the streets. Probably the son of a servant or worse."
"Madam Yu must hate having him around," another replied. "A constant reminder of her husband's soft heart. I'm surprised she allows it."
Wei Wuxian's smile never faltered, but Lan Wangji saw how his hands clenched beneath the table. Saw how he excused himself shortly after, disappearing into the night where no one would see if the smile finally broke.
The loop continued, each iteration showing a different memory, a different wound. Lan Wangji witnessed them all: Wei Wuxian taking blame for Jiang Cheng's mistakes to spare his brother punishment. Wei Wuxian working twice as hard as everyone else, knowing he had to be exceptional just to be considered adequate. Wei Wuxian laughing off injuries from Zidian, pretending they didn't hurt, pretending he was fine, always fine, nothing bothered him.
The masks upon masks upon masks, each one built to protect a heart that had been hurt too many times.
Lan Wangji felt something crack open in his chest—not quite breaking, but shifting, like ice beginning to thaw. He'd thought he understood Wei Wuxian. Brilliant but undisciplined. Talented but irreverent. A troublemaker who delighted in breaking rules simply because they existed.
But this... this was someone who'd learned early that love was conditional, that belonging was a privilege that could be revoked at any moment. Someone who hid profound loneliness behind laughter, who deflected genuine connection with jokes because getting close meant risking more pain.
Someone achingly, desperately human beneath all the bravado.
I must reach him, Lan Wangji thought. He pushed his consciousness deeper into the illusion, forcing himself to become visible, tangible. It was like swimming through honey—the yaoguai's power resisted him, recognizing a threat to its carefully constructed prison.
Finally, he manifested fully in a scene he recognized from earlier—Wei Wuxian on his knees on the dock, blood staining his robes, Madam Yu's voice still echoing with cruel words. But this time, Lan Wangji could act.
"Wei Ying." His voice cut through the loop like Bichen through silk. Wei Wuxian's head snapped up, eyes wide with confusion and something like hope.
"Lan Zhan?" His voice was hoarse, raw with pain both physical and emotional. "How... what are you doing here? This isn't real. It can't be real."
"No. It is not." Lan Wangji stepped forward, and the scene around them flickered like a candle flame in wind. "This is illusion. You are trapped in the yaoguai's power."
Wei Wuxian looked around as if seeing Lotus Pier for the first time, recognition dawning in his eyes. "The cave. The night hunt. We were..." He tried to stand, stumbled. Lan Wangji caught him, one arm around his waist, steady and solid.
"How long have I been here?"
"Not long in the physical world. But time moves differently in the mind." Lan Wangji met his eyes, golden gaze intense. "Wei Ying, we must break free. But to do so, you must let go of this pain."
"Let go?" Wei Wuxian laughed, but it sounded broken. "Lan Zhan, you saw it all, didn't you? Everything. All my... all the..."
"Yes." Lan Wangji's arm tightened around him. "I saw."
Wei Wuxian's composure finally cracked. His characteristic smile dissolved, leaving behind something raw and vulnerable. "Then you know. I'm not... I don't belong anywhere. Even at Lotus Pier, even with Jiang Cheng and shijie, I'm always—" His voice broke. "I'm always just the stray they took in. One wrong move and they'll remember I'm not really one of them."
"No." The word came out fiercer than Lan Wangji intended. "You are wrong, Wei Ying."
"I—what?"
Lan Wangji rarely spoke at length, preferring action to words. But here, now, he forced himself to find them. "What I saw... yes, you have been hurt. Treated unjustly. But I also saw Jiang Wanyin defending you when you weren't present. Jiang Yanli ensuring you ate enough, mending your robes with her own hands. Jiang-zongzhu teaching you despite his wife's anger, because he saw your worth."
He paused, making sure Wei Wuxian was listening. "You belong because you are worthy, not because of conditional tolerance. And those who fail to see that are blind."
Wei Wuxian stared at him, something shifting in his expression. "Lan Zhan... you really believe that?"
"I do not lie." It was the truth, simple and absolute. And then, because the moment seemed to require it, because Wei Wuxian needed to hear it: "You are not a burden. You are... important."
The word felt inadequate for what Lan Wangji actually felt—this sudden, overwhelming need to protect, to comfort, to ensure Wei Wuxian never wore that broken expression again. But it would have to suffice.
Around them, the illusion began to fracture. Lotus Pier's colors bled away, the dock beneath their feet becoming translucent. The yaoguai had fed on Wei Wuxian's pain, but connection—genuine human connection—was anathema to its nature.
"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said quietly, "thank you. For coming for me. For seeing me."
"Always," Lan Wangji replied, and meant it with an intensity that surprised even him.
Wei Wuxian's smile returned, but different now—smaller, more genuine, without the manic edge it usually carried. "Then let's get out of here. I'm getting really tired of Lotus Pier's greatest hits."
Together, they pushed. Wei Wuxian channeled his spiritual energy—not the chaotic, resentful energy he sometimes flirted with, but the pure cultivation taught by Jiang Fengmian. Lan Wangji's power flowed alongside it, golden light meeting silver, two streams becoming one river.
The illusion shattered like glass.
In the cave, the yaoguai shrieked as its connection to Wei Wuxian severed. The shadow tendrils recoiled, smoking where they touched the combined spiritual energy of two young masters. Lan Wangji's consciousness snapped back to his body, and he moved on pure instinct.
Bichen sang free of its sheath, the blade glowing brilliant gold. He poured everything he had into one strike—not just spiritual energy but intent, purpose, the desperate need to protect what had suddenly become precious. The sword pierced the yaoguai's core, and the creature dissolved with a final wail, its stolen anguish dissipating into nothing.
Silence fell in the cave, broken only by harsh breathing.
Wei Wuxian gasped awake, lurching forward. Lan Wangji caught him before he could fall, and they ended up in an awkward tangle on the cave floor—Wei Wuxian half-collapsed against Lan Wangji's chest, the Lan disciple's arms wrapped around him in a hold that was probably too tight to be merely supportive.
"We're... back?" Wei Wuxian managed. His voice was hoarse, throat raw from screaming—had he been screaming in the physical world too? "The yaoguai?"
"Destroyed." Lan Wangji should probably let go now. Propriety demanded it. But his arms didn't seem to want to obey, and Wei Wuxian wasn't pulling away, so he stayed as they were.
"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian tilted his head back to look up at him, and in the dim cave light, his eyes seemed very dark. "You really came into that... that nightmare for me. You saw everything."
Lan Wangji nodded, unable to find words.
"That's..." Wei Wuxian's throat worked as he swallowed. "That's either really brave or really stupid. Probably both. You could have gotten trapped too."
"Would do it again." The words emerged without thought, bypassing all of Lan Wangji's usual careful filters.
Something flickered in Wei Wuxian's expression—surprise, wonder, and something else that Lan Wangji couldn't quite name but that made his heart beat faster. "Lan Zhan, you... you're kind of amazing, you know that?"
Lan Wangji's ears burned hot enough that he was grateful for the cave's darkness. "We should return. You need medical attention."
"Always so practical." But Wei Wuxian's smile was fond as he finally pulled away, though he seemed reluctant about it. He tried to stand and immediately swayed, legs unsteady after the ordeal.
Lan Wangji caught him again, this time supporting him properly with one arm around his waist. "Can you walk?"
"With your help? Definitely." Wei Wuxian leaned against him, closer than strictly necessary. "My hero, Lan Zhan, saving damsels in distress from evil illusions."
"You are not a damsel."
"No? Then what am I?"
The question felt weighted with more meaning than it should. Lan Wangji considered carefully as they made their slow way out of the cave, Wei Wuxian warm and solid against his side. What was Wei Wuxian? Infuriating. Brilliant. Irreverent. Wounded in ways most people never saw. Stronger than he realized. Important—so important that the thought of him trapped in that nightmare forever made Lan Wangji's chest constrict painfully.
"Mine to protect," he finally said, so quietly he wasn't sure if Wei Wuxian heard.
But he did. Lan Wangji felt him stumble slightly, felt the way his breath caught. When he glanced down, Wei Wuxian was staring at him with wide eyes, cheeks flushed with something that wasn't embarrassment or exertion.
"Lan Zhan," he said, his voice oddly breathless, "you can't just say things like that."
"Why not? It is true."
"Because—because—" Wei Wuxian seemed at a loss for words, which might have been a first. "Because I might start believing you mean it."
"I do mean it." They'd reached the cave entrance, and moonlight spilled across them, turning everything silver and shadow. Lan Wangji stopped, turning to face Wei Wuxian fully. "Every word."
Wei Wuxian looked at him for a long moment, something complicated passing across his face. Then, slowly, he smiled—one of those rare, genuine smiles that reached his eyes. "Okay. Okay, Lan Zhan. I'll believe you." He paused, then added quietly, "Thank you. For seeing the real me and not running away."
"Never," Lan Wangji said firmly. It was a promise, though neither of them fully understood its weight yet.
The journey back to Cloud Recesses took longer than the journey out, with Wei Wuxian still weak and Lan Wangji unwilling to push him too hard. They walked in companionable silence at first, the night cool and peaceful around them, though Lan Wangji kept his hand ready to steady Wei Wuxian if needed.
"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian finally said, "what you saw in there... about Lotus Pier, about Madam Yu..." He swallowed hard. "I'd appreciate if you didn't mention it to anyone. Jiang Cheng doesn't need to know, and shijie would just worry."
"I would not speak of it. Your pain is yours to share or keep private."
"But you know now. You know I'm not... I'm not the carefree troublemaker everyone thinks."
Lan Wangji stopped walking, turning to face him fully. In the moonlight, Wei Wuxian looked younger, more vulnerable. "I know you are strong," Lan Wangji said carefully. "Stronger than you believe. To endure that and still smile, still protect others, still choose kindness—that is true strength."
Wei Wuxian's eyes glistened suspiciously. "You know, for someone who barely talks, you really know how to say the right thing when you do."
"I speak the truth."
"Yeah. Yeah, you do." Wei Wuxian wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to be subtle about it. "Lan Zhan, can I... can we be friends? Real friends, I mean. Not just classmates who got stuck on a night hunt together."
Friends. The word felt both too much and not enough for what Lan Wangji felt—this strange, fierce protectiveness, this desire to stay close, to understand every facet of Wei Wuxian's complicated heart. But it was a start.
"Yes," he said simply. "Friends."
Wei Wuxian's smile could have lit the entire mountain. "Good. Great! Then as my friend, you have to promise not to report me when I inevitably break more Lan rules. That's what friends do."
"I will report every infraction." But there was no heat in it, and they both knew it.
"Liar. You just said you don't lie." Wei Wuxian bumped his shoulder playfully, and Lan Wangji felt warmth spread through his chest at the casual contact. "I think I'm corrupting the great Lan-er-gongzi already."
Perhaps he was. Lan Wangji had never felt this way before—this lightness, this constant awareness of another person, this strange flutter in his stomach when Wei Wuxian smiled at him. He didn't have words for it yet, didn't understand the full shape of these new feelings taking root in his heart.
But walking back to Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian chattering beside him, occasionally leaning close enough that their sleeves brushed, Lan Wangji found he didn't mind the confusion. There would be time to understand. Time to figure out why his pulse quickened when Wei Wuxian said his name, why he'd been willing to risk his life without hesitation, why the thought of Wei Wuxian leaving at the end of the lectures filled him with something uncomfortably close to dread.
For now, it was enough to walk together in the moonlight, two souls who'd seen each other's deepest wounds and chosen connection anyway.
"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Mn?"
"Thanks. For everything tonight. For being brave enough to follow me into the nightmare. For—" He paused, then continued softer, "For making me feel like maybe I do belong somewhere after all."
Lan Wangji's hand found Wei Wuxian's before he could think better of it, squeezing gently. "You belong," he said with absolute certainty. And then, because it felt important: "Here. With me. You belong here."
Wei Wuxian's fingers tightened around his, and they walked the rest of the way hand in hand, neither willing to let go first. When they finally reached Cloud Recesses, slipping through the gates just before curfew, they separated reluctantly.
"Goodnight, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said, lingering at the fork in the path that would take them to their separate dormitories.
"Goodnight, Wei Ying." The use of the courtesy name was deliberate, intimate. Wei Wuxian's eyes widened slightly, then softened.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Mn. Tomorrow."
As Lan Wangji made his way back to the Jingshi, his hand still tingling from Wei Wuxian's touch, he reflected on the night's events. They'd gone hunting a yaoguai and returned with something far more significant—understanding, connection, the first fragile threads of something that might, given time and care, grow into something profound.
In his room, lying on his pristinely made bed, Lan Wangji touched his chest where Wei Wuxian had leaned against him, where his warmth had seeped through fabric and skin to settle somewhere near his heart. The feeling was still there, glowing softly like captured moonlight.
He didn't have a name for it yet. Didn't understand why seeing Wei Wuxian's pain had hurt him so deeply, why the thought of Wei Wuxian suffering made him want to draw Bichen and fight the entire world.
But he would figure it out. They had time—weeks of lectures left, morning classes and evening meditations, countless opportunities to unravel this mystery. And Lan Wangji, who had never been particularly interested in mysteries before, found himself looking forward to this one with something that felt dangerously close to anticipation.
In the guest disciples' quarters, Wei Wuxian lay awake as well, staring at the ceiling and replaying the night's events. Lan Zhan had come for him. Had seen the worst parts of his past, his deepest insecurities and fears, and hadn't turned away. Had instead said things like "mine to protect" and "you belong" with such utter conviction that Wei Wuxian almost believed them.
Maybe he was starting to believe them.
He touched his hand where Lan Wangji had held it, remembering the steady warmth, the gentle squeeze that had said more than words ever could. His heart did something complicated in his chest—half flutter, half ache—and Wei Wuxian recognized it for what it was even if he wasn't quite ready to name it yet.
He was in trouble. The best kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.
"Lan Zhan," he whispered to the darkness, testing how the name felt on his lips when no one else could hear. It felt right. Natural. Like something he'd been waiting to say his whole life without knowing it.
Tomorrow, they would return to their usual roles—student and model disciple, troublemaker and rule-follower. But something fundamental had shifted between them, a door opened that could never quite close again.
And as Wei Wuxian finally drifted off to sleep, for the first time in years his dreams were peaceful, filled with golden eyes and the promise of belonging.