Chapter Text
Autumn flees from Gusu. It leaves winter in its place. The cicadas fly away, taking their nighttime symphony with them, the dusk and dawn grow colder and sharp and piercing, the birdsong undergoes change, the dew coolly gathers in the grass, and the pleasant cool air of Gusu grows frigid– all the while, Lan Jingyi has been having the weirdest months of his entire life.
The day after Lan Sizhui’s return, Lan Sizhui keeps his promise and accompanies him in his punishment. They talk quietly in hushed whispers, chatting about Lan Sizhui’s travels, trivialities in Lan Jingyi’s solitary weeks in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian’s latest antics and their future plans for the hanged ghost in the well– Lan Sizhui’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter at some of his nonsensical comments, and Lan Jingyi’s heart feels as heavy as a boulder inside his chest. Lan Sizhui has taken to flushing red and smiling a little pleased smile whenever Lan Jingyi offhandedly says something nice about him, like he isn’t even trying, and he is rapidly growing addicted to it. It is a dangerous game he is playing, one that is bound to get his heart split in half.
Lan Wangji comes by when their time kneeling is nearly up. They somberly hold their poses in silence, and Lan Wangji gives them a look that wordlessly conveys that punishment is individual, and that there are no exceptions. To be frank, Lan Jingyi doesn’t think this one is going to take: he’s made Lan Sizhui shyly turn his head away from him three times, so he’s honestly enjoying himself. He thinks Lan Wangji can surely smell it on him. But the man only continues to walk past them, and they soon see his elegant silhouette retreat.
When they are done, he suggests for Lan Sizhui to bring the others up to speed on his presence and their plans for today, as Lan Jingyi tends to some errands. They separate, and as Lan Jingyi walks away from the Punishment Hall, quietly pleased with himself, he turns a corner and sees that Lan Wangji is seemingly waiting for him. He halts and greets him with a bow, the man returns his greeting and says nothing else. Lan Jingyi pauses– is he about to get lectured? Can Lan Wangji really smell when a disciple is enjoying their punishment?
“May I walk with you?” is what Lan Wangji asks.
Lan Jingyi is so taken by surprise that he stares, which Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to appreciate, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
Against his better judgement, he replies, “Of course, Hanguang-jun. Sizhui and I with some others are going up north to deal with a particularly troublesome hanged ghost”
“I am aware. Don’t underestimate it. Don’t overexert yourself”
Lan Jingyi nods. He wonders if he can see Lan Jingyi’s exhaustion on him, if he can tell how relieved he is Lan Sizhui is back, and chiefly in his mind, he wonders if Lan Wangji knows. He wonders if Lan Sizhui has told either of his parents, if he’s unburdened himself at all– he can hardly imagine him doing so. Lan Jingyi never did mention the person they were talking about to Wei Wuxian, but he trusted Wei Wuxian to eventually put the pieces together sooner or later– he wonders if it has come about already, and if he’s shared his findings with Lan Wangji. It is one of the things he’s been terrified of finding out, and so, mainly why he’s been avoiding Wei Wuxian like he’s death itself.
Lan Wangji suddenly asks, “Jingyi, are you well?”
The question takes him off guard, and he answers an inconclusive, meandering diatribe of “Yes. No. Maybe. I–I don’t know…” He interprets Lan Wangji’s gaze on him as disapproval of his indecision. He reaches for the first thing he feels certainty about. “I’m glad Sizhui is back”
Lan Wangji is looking at him in a rather peculiar way, and Lan Jingyi fiddles nervously with the longbow at his hip. Why does he suddenly feel like he’s being seized up?
Lan Wangji’s eyes have fallen on the weapon. “Wei Ying says you treat your longbow harshly”
A braver man may not get nervous at all when their unorthodox treatment of their spiritual weapon is observed by Hanguang-jun, but Lan Jingyi is not that man.
He explains, like he’s swallowed a peach pit, “Ah– I’m trying to break it in”
“Break it in?”
“Yes. Rough it up, to see how much it is going to withstand. I’m trying to cultivate a longbow that will be there for me in a pinch. It won’t do if it’s a fragile thing that will break at some battering– so, I’m making sure it can take a beating” he explains. He has explained it before to Jin Ling, who called him stupid, and Lan Sizhui, who was mildly curious, but something about having to present Lan Wangji with his approach to spiritual longbows makes his scalp prickle with anxiety. “I’ve been trying a few different things to give it resilience– I’ve tried a few materials, I’ve been feeding it spiritual energy on a schedule, with varying results. Once I’m satisfied, I’ll name it and I’ll start cultivating with it, and it’ll grow even stronger then”
Lan Wangji considers this for a moment. “Prioritizing reliability before grandeur”
“Exactly”
Lan Wangji nods, which might as well be a slap on the shoulder and a congratulatory speech. “Begin thinking of a name”
Lan Jingyi feels grateful he doesn’t ask if he has a name in mind yet– he would be forced to lie, to save his own face.
Lan Wangji would seem quiet and uncommunicative to an outsider who saw the scene, but throughout their walk, Lan Jingyi starts to seriously think Lan Wangji has been killed and replaced by a shapeshifter. He is almost chatty– the way he asks him about where his cultivation is at, how the rabbits are faring the temperature changes, Lan Sizhui and his plans for the ghost in the well, Wei Ying this, Wei Ying that– Lan Jingyi indulges him, easily fills up the empty spaces his short sentences leave in the air. When Lan Wangji takes his leave and Lan Jingyi walks up to the disciple quarters, one of his shidis gives him a look like he’s just survived great hardship.
Lan Wangji’s impromptu companionable walk isn’t the only weird thing that happens to Lan Jingyi. He is pulling a stack of paper as tall as a small child toward the Teaching Hall one day, when Lan Xichen steps out of a column, saying his name so suddenly Lan Jingyi is mildly startled by his smiling somber figure.
He drops his task in order to greet him with a bow. “Zewu-jun”
Lan Xichen smiles like he doesn’t know how to do anything else these days, but there is something very peculiar about the curve of his mouth in the way he directs it at Lan Jingyi. “Jingyi, are you completing your tasks?”
“Yep” Lan Jingyi says, patting the stack of papers like it’s a troublesome pet.
“I need somebody to run to town for me” Lan Xichen says. “You don’t mind?”
“Um,” Lan Jingyi looks at his paper-made ward, feeling some misgivings. He not only has to pull it to the Teaching Hall, he also has to stamp all the paper with the Lan Sect seal, separate it in bundles of fifteen sheets each and wrap each individual packet in a ribbon. And he still has to do his share of cleaning up at the well they blew up last week, in the process of banishing a very troublesome hanged ghost. Against his better judgement, he agrees, “Yes, of course– of course!”
Lan Xichen’s smile makes his eyes squint as he reaches inside his sleeves. “I’ll reassign your chores, so don’t worry about that”
Lan Jingyi is speechless for a moment. In all his years– “Zewu-jun, that– that’s really not necessary!”
“This is Sect business. Naturally, exceptions are to be made” Lan Xichen says, using a tone of finality that must work just peachy in his business as a Sect Leader. “Meet a man in the inn with a big golden fish outside. You are familiar?”
“Yes” Lan Jingyi receives the money pouch Lan Xichen hands him, still in shock at having been freed of stacking paper just like that.
“He will give you a parcel. It should weigh about three jin. Regardless if it weighs this much or not, accuse him of trying to scam you, because he most likely is. You are permitted to use force” Every word out of Lan Xichen’s mouth makes Lan Jingyi feel he’s having an extremely stupid dream. He is still smiling. “Use your better judgement. Ask him how much was agreed, and he should say thirty pieces. Regardless of if he says this or not, accuse him of lying. Give him only thirty pieces. If he asks for more, you are permitted to use force. Return the empty pouch to me when you are done”
Lan Jingyi can only acknowledge the instructions with a nod. Nobody will ever believe him.
“Oh, Jingyi” Lan Xichen calls after him, once he’s turned around to start making his way out of the Cloud Recesses. “I am a little clumsy with time. I don’t know exactly when he will be at the inn. You can find some amusement in town while you wait, I am sure”
“Uh–” Lan Jingyi says, intelligently. “Thank you, Zewu-jun, but it’s fine” He feels he had to say something else, at Lan Xichen’s inquiring look. “Not much for me to do in town! I’m a little tight with money right now”
Lan Xichen waves a hand at him. “I am also a little clumsy with money. There may be more in that pouch than I intended it to be” He then looks at him very seriously. “The locals value our business, Jingyi”
Lan Jingyi spends that afternoon sitting by the riverbed in Caiyi Town, keeping a watchful eye on the entrance of the inn, watching the boats sail by, the merchants and the passerbys, finding Lan Sizhui in birds posed by the water and the fiery red clouds in the magenta sky. The man at the inn tries to scam him, but folds pretty fast when Lan Jingyi only vaguely threatens to hang him up by his toes. He buys a purple hairpin for Lan Sizhui and awkwardly gives it to him the next day, insisting he doesn’t know what came over him and he doesn’t have to wear it if he doesn’t want to, and is rewarded with a shyly pleased Lan Sizhui who happily accepts it for his trouble.
Winter is comfortably stablished in Gusu by the time he really can’t keep ignoring Wei Wuxian anymore, and that man has been acting the strangest of them all. The word that can best describe his state of mind in the past few weeks is, Lan Jingyi would say, delusional.
“Ah, after hiding from your father in law for weeks, suddenly you want to see me?” he says the first time Lan Jingyi finally goes and seeks him out.
“F–father in–?” Lan Jingyi stammers, astonished, feeling his face grow hotter than the sun. “You are completely crazy!”
Wei Wuxian gasps in faux outrage. “Is this a way to speak to your father in law! I should revoke my blessing!”
“What are you talking about? What blessing?” Lan Jingyi yells, deeply regretting coming to see him in the first place.
“The most important blessing in a young man’s life! Turns out I’ve finally found what’s higher than brother and father! It’s not grandfather at all, but father in law!”
“Shut up! Shut up right now!”
Wei Wuxian laughs and laughs at him some more until he finally grows bored of it, and as Lan Jingyi grows tired of yelling and getting embarrassed, a companionable silence settles over them.
“Lan Jingyi, why didn’t you say it was Sizhui we were talking about the whole time?” Wei Wuxian asks seriously, proving he can be sensible for once by keeping his voice down. “It would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble”
“At the time, I was trying not to lose face” Lan Jingyi mutters, feeling a bit silly. “Now I know there was never any hope of keeping my face in the first place”
“Don’t look so down. How are you feeling?”
There is an indescribable emotion on Wei Wuxian’s face. Something really genuine and raw is threatening to overtake the hints of a laugh that usually cling onto it. It makes Lan Jingyi’s hands feel clammy, but it also makes him want to be honest.
“I feel like I’d be better off being a bee and not feeling anything ever again” he says. “But it also feels… good. I feel bigger, somehow. Sometimes, I’m going about my day and I think ‘now he knows’. And it takes this weight off my chest. You know what I mean?”
Wei Wuxian smiles. “I know exactly what you mean”
“But, well, it sort of sucks a lot for me, that he didn’t–”
“Don’t give up hope just yet!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, attracting the looks of people around him yet again. “I may yet see you as my son in law, Lan Jingyi!”
Lan Jingyi clicks his tongue in skepticism and, slightly, embarrassment. “Unless you have another son like Sizhui, I don’t think–”
Wei Wuxian shushes him. “Between you and I, I think things are going to sort themselves out just fine”
Lan Jingyi would be still scratching his head about the ridiculous behavior being exhibited by all the adults in Gusu, but luckily for him, he meets Wen Ning in Caiyi Town one day. He has to run around and pick up boxes of kale and turnip for a celebratory banquet the next week, and he would’ve wasted his whole morning in this endeavor if Wen Ning hadn’t suddenly materialized behind him, scaring the living daylights out of him as he did so, and offered his help in the task.
Lan Jingyi tries to politely decline. “It’s fine, Wen-qianbei, I can manage”
“To be honest, gongzi, I was only asking as a formality. I’ve already gathered everything on your list”
With a start, Lan Jingyi finally notices the mountain of boxes and parcels full of produce sitting behind Wen Ning. He can’t smile or emote, but there is an air of pride in his countenance undeserving of a task such as clearing out a grocery list.
Lan Jingyi doesn’t know whether to be grateful or outraged. “Wen-qianbei, this really– this really was not necessary!”
“I wanted to help you” Wen Ning explains. “It’s a lot for one person to handle”
Lan Jingyi crouches to examine and count the items, checking off everything on a foot of paper, and counts them again when everything turns out to be there and accounted for. He is becoming accustomed to that feeling of gratitude weaved into apprehension and a deep unease– he feels uncomfortably pleased with the consideration. He was mildly worried about how he was going to keep an eye on all the crates while he brought the others, and he figured he’d have to recruit the help of some of the vendors– it is nice he doesn’t have to trouble them in the end, at least.
“Looks like everything is here. How did you know what’s on my list?” he asks, when he is done perusing.
“I didn’t, I asked every stall if they had an order for the Lan Sect”
Lan Jingyi gapes. “And they just gave it to you, just like that?”
Wen Ning nodds. Lan Jingyi feels troubled– the people of Caiyi Town probably know Wen Ning from seeing him around with Lan Sizhui, but doesn’t this sound like they just gave away their orders to whoever shows up and claims to be sent by the Lan Sect?
Wen Ning offers, “I’ll help you load it on the cart”
“Wen–” Lan Jingyi starts to protest, but realizes almost immediately his efforts couldn’t get any more fruitless. “Alright”
Wen Ning used to pack turnips and potatoes onto carts until he grew sick of it when he was living, so he works nimbly and diligently, and soon all the goods are sensibly packed onto the cart. He puts his wide straw hat on his head to protect his undead face from the noon sun and crouches to pick up the long handles of the cart.
“Let’s go, gongzi” he says, as he rises.
In his mind’s eye, Wen Ning was half expecting to see a worryingly thin but widely smiling youth idly twirling a flute in his hand, happily starting to make his laborless stroll up the hill towards home. This is not the image he sees, not only because such an image is long lost to time, but because the youth in front of him is not anywhere near as lazily pleased. Lan Jingyi looks sort of terrified, in fact.
“Wen-qianbei… this really feels wrong…” Lan Jingyi says, with a face full of undisguised cringe.
Wen Ning is not only a senior to him, but Lan Sizhui’s most esteemed, closest relative. If he allows him to drag a cart all the way to the Cloud Recesses for a feast he wouldn’t even be allowed to attend, while he, Lan Jingyi, the person whom the task was really assigned to, strolls up the hill empty handed like the kept young master of an affluent Clan, just how is he supposed to face his parents when he dies and goes to meet them?
Too polite to reject the help, and deeply aware that with his undead strength, this really is to Wen Ning like carrying a basket with pastries across a small courtyard, all he can do is stand there with a face like he just put on his boots to find they are filled with leeches.
To top it all off, Wen Ning can’t smile, frown or grimace, but Lan Jingyi is somehow completely certain the peculiar expression he’s seen on the Lan brothers and Wei Wuxian is plastered all over Wen Ning’s expressionless face at that moment.
“Ah, gongzi, I’m actually a bit tired from all the hauling crates around” Wen Ning says pointedly, bending to put the cart down again. “How about you drag it halfway, and I’ll do the rest of the way?”
Lan Jingyi can’t help but sigh in relief. “Yes, that sounds like a plan, Wen-qianbei!”
“But I’ll carry this” Wen Ning takes one of the heaviest sacs of turnips and carries it behind his shoulder. “To lighten your load”
Lan Jingyi has been picking apart this behavior over and over in his mind over the past few weeks, and has, more or less, arrived at a conclusion. He feels chagrined, as he drags the cart uphill, pretending not to notice Wen Ning sneaking turnips out of the crates to stuff them into the heavy sack he carries on his shoulder, like it weighs as much as a puppy.
“Gongzi, A-Yuan says you favor archery?”
Lan Jingyi feels momentarily distracted away from his depressed reflection. “I do”
“When I lived, I used to be quite good at it. Nowadays, I can’t anymore, because of the way I am”
Lan Jingyi feels surprised by this, and scoffs at himself for feeling like that. Of course he knows Wen Ning wasn’t always the ghostly undead figure he is today– he was a living, breathing boy before being the Ghost General, a boy with warm blood running through his veins who had talents and dreams just like him. He attributes his surprise to the fact Lan Sizhui has never told him this– he’s sure he would’ve mentioned it if he knew, as he would’ve found delight in Wen Ning and Lan Jingyi sharing a common interest.
Perhaps Wen Ning hasn’t said this even to Lan Sizhui, and is choosing to share it with him for some reason. It all comes back to the considerations people keep having with him. Asking him how he is, gifting him idle afternoons in Caiyi Town, giving him false hopes, taking interest in talking to him like never before– Lan Jingyi can’t imagine it coming from any place that isn’t pity.
“Perhaps you could give me some pointers for my technique” he says, anyway. He is soon to start cultivating with the longbow after all, and he needs all the help he can get.
“Mm!” Wen Ning nods enthusiastically. “Do you mind shooting some things for me now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, do you?”
As a matter of fact, he doesn’t– his entire day was meant to be devoted to his errands in town, but as Wen Ning has taken care of them in the span of a sichen, he is unexpectedly free to fart around the whole afternoon. He carries his longbow with him everywhere these days, and he is sure if he digs around his sleeve he’ll find some spare arrows that will make do. He looks at Wen Ning: his face is still expressionless, but Lan Jingyi thinks he looks undoubtedly excited about the prospect of it, and so he agrees.
They pull over the cart and Lan Jingyi fashions some targets out of celery sacks, crates of kale and nearby trees. He feels self-conscious as he draws the arrow under Wen Ning’s gaze, but he comments his stance is proper, only different to the way he learned to stand as a young Wen archer, nearly twenty years ago. Lan Jingyi shoots a few times and Wen Ning commends him, and grows delighted when Lan Jingyi infuses some arrows with spiritual energy and they burst the crate into pieces as they strike.
“I never got to cultivate the bow” Wen Ning says, from where he sits at a low stone, watching his efforts. “But my cultivation wasn’t very high, either”
“Did you have a teacher?”
“I did. But he kind of gave up on me after a while” Wen Ning admits. “I got good by practicing alone”
Lan Jingyi understands him deeply. “The Lan Sect cultivates the sword and the guqin, mostly. Hanguang-jun said it’s fine if I cultivate the bow, but I would have to hold my own hand a lot”
“Your technique is fine, and your shots are very confident, so you’ve been a good teacher”
Lan Jingyi smiles. “I’m just not always a good student”
For the first time, Lan Jingyi wonders if Wen Ning knows. He wonders if any of them know, and if he has been operating under inaccurate assumptions. Is it in his best interest to prod? Can he handle what he will find? Even if Lan Wangji was in the habit of gossiping, which sounds less likely than the sun exploding, he doesn’t have a problem with the entirety of Gusu finding out about his feelings for Lan Sizhui: he decided that a long time ago. But he can’t handle pity– he just can’t stand it.
“I know what you’re all doing, you know” he says, looking down at his battered bow.
Wen Ning looks puzzled. “Who?”
“You, Wei Wuxian, Hanguang-jun and Zewu-jun… you all.. you feel– bad for me. You feel bad for me because… because I love Sizhui, and he doesn’t love me back” This might be the first time he says it out loud. “I would like you to know… you don’t have to feel bad for me. I am so happy since I told him, it’s like this huge… boulder in my chest is now finally out. It’s a relief. I do not feel bad for me at all, so neither should you”
Wen Ning seems to think about this for a moment, and then says, “This is really not how things are, gongzi”
Lan Jingyi can’t help but scoff. “Then how are things?”
“I don’t know about others, but I am really fond of A-Yuan” When mentioning the boy, he inclines his head to the side in an affectionate gesture, even as his rigid face doesn’t change. Lan Jingyi sympathizes. “He’s the only family I have left, but he’s also… really great. Lan-gongzi, don’t you think A-Yuan is great?”
“Of course he’s great! He’s amazing!” Lan Jingyi answers, testily.
If Wen Ning could, he would be smiling. “I think we all just got a little excited… that someone loves A-Yuan as much as we love him. And I don’t feel bad for you at all, gongzi. I think it’s really great that you told him how you feel. It’s no good keeping that sort of thing to yourself…”
Lan Jingyi tries to picture it. Four adult men, giddy and excited because he loves Lan Sizhui, so they try to reach out, in whatever small ways they can. He can, maybe, fit Wei Wuxian into this picture, but he’s having trouble wrapping his head around the rest.
“I am also glad to see A-Yuan so happy” Wen Ning adds, apropos. “Hasn’t he looked happier to you, as of late, gongzi?”
Lan Jingyi’s brain halts to a stop. Something soft and delightful replaces all the doubt and the worry, as the words settle over him. This is the fragile sort of thought Lan Jingyi has been harboring recently, one that flutters around like a newborn butterfly, too brittle even to be touched– he’s dared only contemplate it from afar, and only at intervals. He thought himself delusional when he first started noticing it, but here is Wen Ning, confirming it. It’s very simple, really, it’s just that… lately, Lan Sizhui has been in an extremely good mood.
One would say Lan Jingyi’s love for him has made him really happy, but thinking this makes Lan Jingyi feel like he has some lines to write on self-importance. Lan Jingyi has developed an addiction to complimenting him, choosing to tell Lan Sizhui that he’s the smartest, the fastest, the prettiest, that he brightens the room with his presence, whenever Lan Sizhui stands still too long. It makes Lan Sizhui so smiley and shy every time– he can never help himself. That might also have something to do with it.
Whatever the case is, Lan Sizhui is currently in high spirits all the time, and the people who esteem him have had to notice. It probably makes sense, then, Lan Jingyi thinks, that those people have such a good opinion of him– seeing it like this, it makes sense Lan Wangji would placidly converse with him, and that Wei Wuxian would lie to him and tell him he still has a chance, and that Lan Xichen would grant him a free afternoon for no reason, and that Wen Ning would take interest in his archery and help him with his errands.
“Yes, when you say it like that, it makes sense” Lan Jingyi concedes.
“I am glad you see it my way”
He starts to pick up the destroyed crates and Lan Jingyi hurries to help him. “Just, um, one last thing, Wen-qianbei. How many people… know?”
“I don’t know how Wei-gongzi knows, or even Lan-gongzi or his big brother… but as for me, A-Yuan told me”
“S–Sizhui told you?” Lan Jingyi drops the pieces of crate he’s holding in his arms. “When?”
“About a week ago”
“What– what did he say exactly?”
“He said he was really happy, and that he could have never expected it. Nothing that you don’t know already, gongzi” Wen Ning says, simply, as Lan Jingyi’s heart caves in on itself. “If you care to know, why don’t you ask him?”
Lan Sizhui and him haven’t really talked about it, since the fact. He doesn’t think there’s not much to talk about, really. Lan Sizhui might be brimming with happiness enough for others to have noticed, but this doesn’t mean he wants to tear his heart from his chest and present it to him, like Lan Jingyi does. There is a lot of love, there, regardless– love cultivated through the last twenty years of being a two-package deal– do not separate. It is up to Lan Jingyi whether that can be enough for him or not. It has to be enough, in his opinion. It just has to be.
“The conference at Qinghe is approaching”
Lan Jingyi drags his gaze back from where it was looking at two ducks fighting over a piece of bao. Lan Sizhui is not looking at him, in favor of curiously studying a wicker doll with purple rouge on its cheeks and a bright orange dress that he picked up from a stall of toys. The owner is absent, but if she was here she would probably be commending the craftsmanship and declaring it a fit gift for any little girl under the age of ten in order to get him to take the toy home.
Lan Jingyi isn’t sure why he is bringing this up now, but he nods. “It is. You are going with Hanguang-jun?”
“I am going alone”
Lan Jingyi starts. “Is that wise?”
Lan Sizhui puts down the previous doll as carefully as he would a child, and picks up the one next to it, one with bright blue beads around her neck and bright red rouge on her cheeks. He again examines it closely, carefully turning it in his hand.
“I don’t think much is likely to happen at the conference” he reasons, feeling the material of the doll’s bright scarlet robe between his fingers. “But I will be there instead of Sect Leader Lan. Others will definitely interpret it that way”
Lan Jingyi hears the anxiety in his voice like he would find his own, like picking the boy himself out of a crowd. If he was in Lan Sizhui’s place, he would have every reason to be anxious about being the tentative, but probable, next Sect Leader of the Gusu Lan Sect, but he is not, and the one in that place is actually Lan Sizhui; and so, he doesn’t share his anxieties in any capacity. He trusts Lan Sizhui to excel in anything he wants to do too much for that– brilliant, clever, mindful Lan Sizhui. His other, more personal fears about the expectations they will have of Lan Sizhui as Sect Leader are best known only to himself– Lan disciples are not encouraged to aspire to courtship and marriage and descendants, but Sect Leaders are a different story.
“Take it easy, Sizhui. Like you said, not much is likely to happen. And you know you can count on me to hold the fort while you are gone”
The gentle reassurance earns him a swift but pleased glance out of Lan Sizhui: it is like gazing into the rising moon. A wicker turtle becomes the target of his attention next: he picks it up and traces his fingers alongside the pattern of the shell, where dirt and leaves have become trapped in the rooks. He says, as he assesses the animal, “I was actually hoping to take you with me”
“Me?” Lan Jingyi laughs at it like it’s hilarious. “Why would I do there?”
“Why shouldn’t you be there?” Lan Sizhui asks, in lieu of an answer. “I want to keep you close, and you want to be close to me. Isn’t that reason enough?”
Lan Jingyi isn’t sure what to say. “Sizhui, you’re there representing the Sect Leader; nevermind the whole Sect. Wouldn’t I just be in your way?”
“In my–” Lan Sizhui finally, mercifully looks at him, a deeply distraught expression around his eyes. “How can you say that? When have you ever been in my way when we are together? When have you ever been anything less than helpful and reliable and brilliant?”
The sun itself isn’t as bright and lovely as Lan Sizhui when he’s earnestly convincing him that he’s worth of praise– he just has to smile about the impromptu speech, then grow very serious, as an excess of vanity is forbidden.
“Things are different now. We’re no longer two kids running around slaying monsters, this is the real deal” Lan Jingyi grabs a stray lock of hair that’s untucked out of Lan Sizhui’s updo and puts it back in place, just to see blotches of red appear in his cheeks. He’s not disappointed in his endeavor. “The person who goes with you to these things should be your wife or–”
Lan Sizhui scoffs at this, returning his attention to the figures on display. He picks up a stone bird, painted with deep hues of red and blues for the plumage and a stark white in the underbelly.
“What’s that sound supposed to mean?”
“I think I am almost as likely to get married to a woman as you are, Jingyi” Lan Sizhui says, simply, without a drop of irony or jest.
Lan Jingyi gapes at the self-assured statement– at the audacity of it all. Lan Jingyi lost his chance at marriage and companionship when he decided to love a boy without hope for reciprocity for the rest of his life, but what is Lan Sizhui’s reasoning for this? Just how are their situations remotely similar?
But Lan Sizhui doesn’t want to dive into the details of his self-imposed ascetic future. He walks away from the stall, and when Lan Jingyi catches up to him, he says, “So, in the permanent absence of a wife, do you mind fulfilling that role?”
Lan Jingyi laughs, unable to do much else. “Are you asking me to be your wife?”
“I am asking you to go to these official things with me, look after me, accompany me, make me better as a cultivator and a person and make me laugh” he lists, as Lan Jingyi measures his step as to keep up with him and not surpass him. “Most of these things you already do, so I guess you have been doing the job credibly”
“And what happens when you find yourself an actual wife? What will happen to me?” Lan Jingyi says, like he doesn’t care either way what the answer will be, like the prospect isn’t a terrifying thought.
“I’m telling you, I’m not interested in marriage” Lan Sizhui insists. “I have honestly… never been”
“You are going to be Sect Leader, Certain things will be expected–”
“I will fish a lonely orphan out of some terrible circumstances and bring him back to Gusu, like Hanguang-jun did with me, back then. You can help me raise him”
Lan Jingyi stops walking. “Sizhui”
Lan Sizhui turns to look at him. They have stopped at the very edge of town, facing the windy green hills and leaving the bustling city behind their backs, quieted and still in the soporific weather of the winter months. The air bites Lan Sizhui’s skin until it leaves his cheeks a bright red; there is a healthy and bright glow about him that he’s been carrying around for the past few weeks, one that brightens his black expressive eyes and eases the tautness in his face. He looks the very picture of happiness as he smiles softly to Lan Jingyi.
“Jingyi” he says, looking into his eyes like he understands and sees everything in them. “I don’t know about other things, but I know I don’t want to be apart from you any longer than I have to. No one knows me as well as you do, no one complements my shortcomings better, no one makes me feel like I can do anything like you do. We are better when we are together, you know we are, and we like being together. So,” He reaches out to take Lan Jingyi’s hand in his own, holding the boney wrist between his fingers. “Go with me to Qinghe?”
Lan Jingyi exhales the sigh that was trapped in his chest. Lan Sizhui’s hand is warm against his skin. This can probably be enough.
“Alright, I will go with you”