Chapter Text
At the height of summer, there is always a roving circus that parks itself at the border of Gusu and Lanling, along the edges of the sea, that comes up seemingly overnight, its large tents brightly coloured and full of hanging lights. The crowd comes to gawk at foreign wares of woven scrolls and strange dried flowers, to be amazed by fantastic feats from the contortionists, to bask in the heady energy of wonder and awe.
Even for cultivators, they seem to be gripped by some kind of wild magic as they step through the entrance, the thin strips of colourful fabric brushing over their bodies like it’s sweeping away the day’s worries and responsibilities. In here, the outside world doesn’t exist. In here, there is only the magic of the present and the presence of magic.
Lan Xichen thinks it’s the perfect place to visit as they reach the end of their honeymoon tour, the one-month break passing by in the blink of an eye, even despite how much they have done and seen and experienced.
Jiang Wanyin thinks it’s unbecoming of their standing as sect leaders to patronise such places that obviously trick its patrons with a cunning mix of talismans and likely unorthodox cultivation, but he knew it was already a lost cause when his new husband turns his puppy eyes on him.
“Fine, let’s go. We don’t have plans tonight, anyway.” In the end, he acquiesces, because he can never say no to the people he loves.
Lan Xichen smiles and takes Jiang Wanyin’s hand in his, cherishing the way Jiang Wanyin remains relaxed and still by his side, a sign of hard-earned trust after many years of courting before Jiang Wanyin would even consider the thought of marriage. The mood, while still light and comfortable, has started to take on a hint of somberness, of recognition that their carefree days without their titles are coming to a close. They had argued for one month of privacy, just thirty days away from their respective sects, so that they could roam the lands as anonymous cultivators. To visit places and do things without the hanging weight of expectations. Yet as the days turned to weeks, Jiang Wanyin’s attention had started to turn to Yunmeng, his eyes lighting up at any other cultivators in purple robes, his musings revolving around his return.
At the least, Lan Xichen hopes the circus will help to push those thoughts back just for another night. Just one more night to be A-Huan and A-Cheng together– not Sect Leader Lan and Sect Leader Jiang, nor Zewu Jun and Sandu Shengshou.
“Thank you, my dear heart.” Lan Xichen says, bringing his husband’s hands up to his lips to leave a brief kiss on the knuckles, because he knows Jiang Wanyin is just humouring him, and Jiang Wanyin’s smile lets him know he knows, too.
Excitement thrums through the crowd pushing their way into the circus. The theatrics had begun at the gate, with a small boy– probably no older than 12– hanging upside down from an overhead bar, proclaiming the greatness of the circus while tossing flyers over the visitor’s heads.
Jiang Wanyin reaches a hand up and plucks one out of the air, skimming over the thin paper with a crude map advertising the performance schedules and all other attractions dotted around the place.
“Listen to this, Lan Huan– an acrobatics show, a fire show, a magic show… food stalls with exotic dishes from the west.. A petting zoo? Hmm, that might be worth a look… there’s even a ‘love witch’, how crude.”
“Does my heart not believe in the power of love?”
Jiang Wanyin scoffs at that, shaking his head lightly. “Certainly not if it came out of some bottle from an old hag in a roving circus. Wei Wuxian had bought plenty of those from the apothecary in Caiyi Town, and I’m pretty sure he did manage to spike Lan Wangji’s tea with it once.”
Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow. “Well, in that case, considering how they have been married for the past eight years, wouldn’t you say that it worked?”
Jiang Wanyin splutters and punches Lan Xichen in the shoulder. “That’s– that doesn’t count! I’m talking about way back when we were still studying!”
“Ah. I’m pretty sure didi was quite enamoured with Wei-gongzi even then, as well.”
Jiang Wanyin knows. Back then, it was him and Lan Wangji wasting their days and nights searching for a Yiling Laozu who didn’t want to be found.
“Whatever! Let’s just see the main show first.”
Lan Xichen smiles and lets himself be led ahead by his lovely temperamental wife.
They ended up watching almost all the shows in the main tent, enjoying themselves much more than expected. The theatrics were electric, the performers fantastic, the experience dazzling. Even Jiang Wanyin, who at first scoped out the entire tent for clues as to how they were performing these illusions without qi or talismans, eventually shrugged off his curiosity to simply sit back and enjoy the show, allowing himself to be immersed in the splendour of it all.
It’s after the third performance that Jiang Cheng motions for Lan Xichen to file out with the rest of the crowd. The outside air is humid this close to the sea, but still considerably cooler than being inside the main tent. Jiang Cheng shivers a little at the sudden change in temperature, which Lan Xichen uses as an excuse to draw his husband closer to him, tucked underneath his arm.
“It wouldn’t do to lose you in the crowd,” Lan Xichen says with all seriousness, and Jiang Cheng cocks an eyebrow, looking around at the crowd mostly around a good half a head shorter than they are.
“Alright, you sap.” He sighs, leaning into Lan Xichen’s touch. It’s nice, really. That Lan Xichen cares so much and is so generous with his affection. It’s still taking Jiang Cheng a while to truly come to terms with the fact that they’re married now, even though they’ve been courting for nearly a decade. (He hasn’t even really come to terms with that, either…) In the throng of people, dressed in plain robes and hair tied back with simple ribbons, they are hard to recognize as their larger-than-life titles. It’s this blending into the crowd that gives Jiang Cheng the courage to entwine his fingers with Lan Xichen’s, their joined hands hidden in his wide sleeve, just like Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon tied neatly around his wrist. He feels Lan Xichen smile and pointedly ignores the blush creeping up his face. Seriously, even after marriage…
Lan Xichen guides him over to the food stalls to pick up a drink for their parched throats before visiting the petting zoo. Most of the animals have started to wind down as evening turns to night, but there are still some that perk up whenever anyone approaches their pen with offerings of hay and carrots.
It should almost be funny, how relaxed his husband gets around animals, his face soft in a way rarely seen when he is around humans. Yet Lan Xichen knows all the ways Jiang Cheng has been hurt by cruel words and crueller actions, and cannot blame him for only finding peace elsewhere. Eventually, the night falls fully. Even carrots can no longer attract the attention of the llamas and sheep and rabbits, all which have tucked themselves into each other to rest.
Jiang Cheng gets up with a little sigh, brushing stray bits of hay off his pants and arms. Without a word, Lan Xichen pulls Jiang Cheng into his arms again, thanks the animal handler, and they meander their way through the rest of the circus. The crowd has thinned considerably, and even some of the game stalls have begun to pack up. The only ones left hanging around are couples enjoying the last of their date and groups of older teens getting rowdy with wine in hand. Stragglers are slowly making their way out the door, tired smiles on their faces. Lan Xichen doesn’t want this night to end, selfishly slowing down his steps so that they may steal just a few more moments together.
They pass by a small tent, garishly lit with bright orange and red lights, the small wind chimes hanging on its eaves tinkling faintly in the sea breeze. A plaque hangs down the front of it, proclaiming that the Love Witch is open for business.
“Oh, Wanyin, look!” Lan Xichen points out, his interest piqued.
“Absolutely not.” Despite the resolute shake of his head, Jiang Cheng stops right in front of the tent, because Lan Xichen has once again turned his puppy-dog eyes on him. “Lan Xichen, you–! This is very unbecoming of you!”
“Would my heart not indulge me?”
“What do you need to see a Love Witch for? We’re already married!”
“Well, yes, but…” Jiang Cheng’s protests are cut short as a gust of sea breeze blows past, flipping open the tent flap as if in invitation.
“Will you look at that!” Lan Xichen says cheerfully, and drags a sighing Jiang Cheng behind him into the tent.
It’s roomier inside than it looks on the outside. Jiang Cheng briefly wonders if they used some sort of space-expansion talisman, like for qiankun pouches, on the tent– it wouldn’t be unheard of, but it requires relatively skilled cultivation. The curling scent of incense is strong and stuffy, warming up the space considerably. Jiang Cheng isn’t too familiar with the scent, clocking it as some sort of flower, cloying and clinging to his robes. He glances over to Lan Xichen, who has his nose a little wrinkled. He knows his husband isn’t fond of strong smells.
Just as he opens his mouth to suggest that they leave, a woman steps into the flickering light from the shadows. She is dressed in rich layers of maroon and gold accessories, the heavy jewelry clinking together lightly as as walks. Her face, though youthful and free of wrinkles, seem to carry an air of experience, her eyes betraying an age beyond her looks.
“Zewu Jun and Sandu Shengshou,” she murmurs lightly, yet her voice seems to resound in the tent.
Immediately, both cultivators stiffen up. They have not been recognized in so long, that to hear their titles again so unexpectedly has put both of them on edge.
The woman seats herself at the low table, waving for the two men to take a seat. She pours some tea and does not offer them any as she downs the drink. Lan Xichen sits, tugging on Jiang Cheng’s sleeve before he, too, sinks into the thick cushions.
“You wish to see the possibilities,” she says suddenly, pouring herself another cup of tea. She swirls it, watching the dregs settle on the bottom of the porcelain. “Do you wish to see them together?”
“Together, please.” Lan Xichen says, at the same time Jiang Cheng says “No.”
They share a look. Lan Xichen’s lower lip pushes out the tiniest bit. Jiang Cheng tsks and tries to push down the warmth rising in his cheeks. Damn his husband’s puppy dog eyes!! “Fine. Yes, yes, together.”
The woman downs the tea and puts it away. “You may not like what you see,” she warns, as she sets a large silver mirror before them.
“What the hell are we supposed to see?” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but obediently reaches out to lace his hands with Lan Xichen’s own, finding comfort in his husband’s warmth. Whatever it is, surely it can’t be too bad?
They stare into the mirror, taking in their own reflections. They both look softer, younger, the weeks of rest having done wonders to remove the dark circles from under their eyes and the stress lines around their mouths. The surface ripples, and then they are sucked into the mirror, hand in hand.