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The courtyard of Demon Subdue Manor was thick with the sounds of returning soldiers—the reinforcements pouring in just behind the vanguard that arrived with Wei Wuxian—alongside the heavy stomping of mud-soaked boots and the clinking of iron.
Lan Wangji, cocooned in Wei Wuxian’s tight grip, could hear nothing beyond the desperate, ragged rhythm of Wei Wuxian’s breath against his ear.
Wei Wuxian’s helmet lay forgotten in the mud behind them. His fingers dug firmly into the small of Lan Wangji’s waist, gripping the soft linen of his robes as the favour was returned. The hold was firm yet not harsh, expressing all the relief and remnants of the fear they had both carried until this moment.
The scent of smoke, dried copper, and rain clung heavily to Wei Wuxian’s silver and black armor, but beneath it all was the unmistakable, grounding warmth of his Er-ge.
Lan Wangji tried to bury his face deeper into the crook of Wei Wuxian’s neck, despite the cold, thick plate of his armor being an uncomfortable hindrance, simply holding on to him as tightly as he could.
“You’re trembling,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his deep, husky voice thick with raw emotion, casting a dizzying haze over Lan Wangji’s thoughts. He shifted his stance, pulling just a bit away to see his face clearly. “Zhan’er, my love. Look at me. Let me see you.” He cupped Lan Wangji’s right cheek softly in his hand and tilted his head up, his gaze tender.
Lan Wangji reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled back just an inch, his golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears once again, his cheeks still damp with the ones wept mere moments ago.
Wei Wuxian’s face was smeared with dark streaks of soot and dirt, his jaw shadowed with days of rough stubble, but his silver eyes blazed with a fierce, possessive tenderness that made Lan Wangji’s heart stutter. He looks so handsome no matter what condition he is in, Lan Wangji wondered happily. Wei Wuxian lifted his hand from his cheek, brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and offered the softest smile.
“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said, still smiling and gazing warmly into Lan Wangji's eyes.
“Hi,” Lan Wangji replied, returning the look, his heart soaring with love for his Er-ge yet again. He would never grow tired of loving his Gege.
Wei Wuxian pressed a kiss to Lan Wangji’s forehead and lingered there lovingly, deep in thought. Lan Wangji relished the affection, opening his eyes to continue gazing back at his husband. Husband. An almost incomprehensible gasp left his mouth. Wei Wuxian was truly his husband, and they would never be parted again, he thought as the realization settled in deep. He felt giddy all of a sudden, but then frowned softly, seeing how Wei Wuxian still seemed lost in thought.
“Gege?” Lan Wangji whispered questioningly.
Wei Wuxian’s gaze flicked down at the address. When he realized his distraction, he laughed softly, his eyes curling into the crescents Lan Wangji adored. “Mhm.” Giving a vague hum, he pressed two quick pecks to Lan Wangji’s forehead and then hurried to untie his arm gauntlets. For this, he had to pull away slightly, while Lan Wangji followed his movements with curious eyes.
Once Wei Wuxian managed to strip the metal gauntlet from his arm, he excitedly began untying the white ribbon. Lan Wangji’s eyes widened in recognition and he smiled shyly, understanding what his Er-ge was doing. Having freed it from his arm, Wei Wuxian lifted the ribbon proudly between his fingers, looking at Lan Wangji with clear pride shining in his eyes. The latter laughed wholeheartedly at his antics—in the quiet Lan way—and extended his hands to take it from him.
Midway, a loud cough snapped them both out of their trance. Wei Wuxian instinctively grasped Lan Wangji’s reaching hands with the one still wrapped in the Lan ribbon and shielded him behind his back on pure instinct. They both breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering Wen Qing scowling at them from among the incoming forces.
“Wen Qing!!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, letting go of Lan Wangji, who stepped out from behind him with a small, coy smile.
Burning holes into both of them, Wen Qing said deadpan, her sharp voice cutting through the courtyard: “If you two are quite done creating a scandal in front of half the vanguard—”
Wei Wuxian puffed out his cheeks. “Aiya, Qing-jie, can’t you give a victorious General even a single shichen of peace with his husband?”
“He is not your husband yet, you shameless brute,” Wen Qing snapped, though the faint twitch at the corner of her lips softened the bite. “Infirmary. Both of you. Now. Once you both are cleaned up, checked thoroughly for your injuries, dressed appropriately, and properly fed, you can go plan your actual wedding.”
Lan Wangji failed to hide his smile as he stole glances at his husband—no, fiancé for now, apparently. He lightly touched the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Er-ge. Let us go.”
Wei Wuxian looked down at him, all the defiance melting out of his posture in an instant. “Mn. Whatever my Zhan’er says.”
As they turned toward the inner manor, Wei Wuxian deliberately intertwined their fingers, his grip firm and warm. For the first time in months, there were no spies lurking in the shadows, no whispered lies meant for Wen Ruohan’s ears, and no humiliating concubine titles forced upon them.
They walked side by side under the pale northern sky.