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skellebonez · 3 years

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Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 9

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Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link! Chapter 8 Link!

Summary: As their time in the Calabash continues, the trio is face with three very different kinds of scenarios. Some simple, some subtle, all personal. Outside, the elders come to a realization and start to plan.

Warnings: Re-living emotional and physical abuse, psychological torment, panic attacks, blood and injury descriptions.

Author’s note: ... so it’s been... 3 weeks since I last updated this fic. Being honest, I wasn’t happy with what I had already written after re-reading it. I decided to take a week to let what I had left sit and come back to edit again, and then I realized I HATED what I wrote. So I took a second week off updating and completely rewrote everything I had in the fic so far, including this chapter. I think part of the problem was that, at the time I wrote these chapters a couple months ago, we didn’t have the special and the way I wrote the characters when the situation gets heavier felt off to me. Hopefully I have fixed this!

Chapter 9: Mix and Match

Another blink, another move, and Red Son was at the counter of his food stand that he opened for the Lunar New Year festival. Watching as potential customers passed by and looked over their options, still at the festival stall, still at the Lunar New Year festival where...

He blinked again and there was a flash of red and green flames burning in tandem, wrapped around each other and swirling around a figure clad in golden light.

When his eyes opened the visage was gone, not replaced by another change of scenery but back to same view of the festival he had seen before he closed his eyes. Another blink, and time seemed to have moved forward. There was a man standing before him and yelling and grabbing his frock and oh. He remembered this.

“Look, I wanna speak to the manager.”

It was different this time. Red hadn’t blinked, but it was like the world glitched around him in a strange kaleidoscope not unlike a broken computer monitor that made his eyes ache and skipped forward in time. Like someone was pressing the skip button on an online video and jumped over his own response. He watched as the man (was it the same man from the shoe store? he looked like him but he had only ever seen him once before so he couldn’t be sure) ran off after seeing his father, screaming into the crowd and drawing more than a few confused and concerned looks.

A skip. “Great!?” His father yelled with a growl. “I am the Demon Bull King! What would you have me be? The King of Street Food!?”

Red Son opened his mouth and there was another skip, he was right next to his father’s face when he growled at him. He’d made the mistake of mentioning the White Bone Spirit at that time, he remembered. His father had been growing more and more frustrated at this arrangement as the day had gone on and looking back on it now this was possibly the tipping point that made his father snap.

Why had he brought her up in the first place?

Another skip and Red’s head started to feel light, like he was on the verge of feeling like he would pass out but wasn’t quite there yet, and his father slammed his hands into the countertop. “Enough! I may have failed as a conqueror, but I will not be made a fool!”

Once again Red Son opened his mouth to speak and the world glitched again and he was being pulled from the food stall in the hand of his father now changed into his full size, grip almost too tight in his frustration but not tight enough to hurt him. Not physically, anyway. But Red couldn’t help feeling his chest tighten and grow cold despite the warmth that lived under his skin. He knew this was just the Calabash, knew this wasn’t really happening.

But he still knew what was to come. And regret filled his heart like ice water.

“We are going to have a talk, you and I.”

MK looked down at his hand, the one that had slammed into the Monkey King’s face still clenched into a fist both shaking and numb, and felt his breathing speed up more and more and his head hurt. His head felt like a steel vice was gripping it and yet like it was empty and too light at the same time, his vision blurred and he distantly heard the familiar voice of his mentor asking him if he was ok and no no he wasn’t ok he was dying.

Except he wasn’t dying, he knew that. He’d experienced this before, many times. A panic attack. He’d be fine, just needed some time to-

“Kid?”

That wasn’t Sun Wukong’s voice anymore.

MK raised his head and his eyes widened at the change in scenery. He was in Pigsy’s Noodles, not on a cliff side after training, and Pigsy had just come back from buying... something, he couldn’t remember what.

But what he did remember were the two people he had just taken his eyes off of.

“Look at us when we’re talking to you, brat!” A woman’s voice, one he hadn’t heard in person in almost two years, rang out before a hand reached out and grabbed a sizeable chunk of his hair and yanked his line of sight back to her.

“Hey, get your hands off my employee!” Pigsy yelled out, dropping whatever he had purchased to rush to MK’s side and grab the woman’s hand and pull it back flush with his head to keep her from pulling his hair out. “Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“Who do you think?” a voice that should have been less familiar now than it was.

His mother was gone. Where his father should have been stood Pigsy, no longer holding the hand in his hair but looking at him in disappointment with a shake of his head. MK looked up and...

Sun Wukong looked down at him with disdain. A look that he hadn’t even given to the Six-Eared Macaque when hey fought, one of pure malice and hatred and his hand went to yank his hair harder before the hand holding his own gripped claws of some kind into his wrist to force him to let go.

“You ungrateful little brat, why did I ever give you a chance to be my successor!” The Monkey King hissed and this wasn’t him this wasn’t his mentor this was not Sun Wukong MK repeated to himself as he felt his chest grow tighter again and he clenched his teeth with a scowl.

He turned behind him and where Pigsy should have been standing behind him, the one to catch him as he stumbled backward, stood someone else. Blurred in computer glitches and shaped with long robes and large ears and a fluffy tail and he could see that the shape of the person was smiling softly. Too softly.

The scenery had changed back to the cliff side and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and MK jumped and whirled around and saw the once again kind face of Sun Wukong. Marred in worry and fear and confusion. MK flinched back without meaning to.

“Bud? MK? What’s going on?”

Nothing had happened since Mei arrived at the festival. Absolutely nothing.

After what happened not even a few minutes ago the dragon was on edge, looking over her shoulder at every movement. She kept her hands in her pockets now, not wanting to look at them. When she did she saw red, a red no one else seemed to be able to see on her, blood from the MK that she had sliced open. It marked her, not only her hands but her clothes and face where it had splattered on her.

She didn’t dare look at her sword.

Logically she knew that it wasn’t real, the Calabash was tricking her senses as best it could. But it felt real, it felt like she had truly killed her best friend on accident and his blood was on her like a warning for others to stay away.

No one did, though. They acted like she wasn’t covered in the evidence of a murder. Maybe that was an error or maybe that was the intent. To make her feel like she was slowly going to fear everyone learning her secret. A secret that wasn’t real. Lucky for Mei she had plenty of experience pretending that everything was alright and moving forward with a smile. More than enough experience.

Something far worse was coming for her though. She could feel it. After what Princess Jade Face had said to her? This couldn’t possibly be the plan by itself.

“You’re acting weird,” Pigsy said beside Sandy and looking up at her on large demon’s shoulder as they watched the parade procession. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Just thinking about stuff,” she answered with a shrug, easy as saying the sky was blue. It wasn’t a lie, she was thinking about stuff. Just not what the real Pigsy would have expected, or even a construct Pigsy.

“Huh...” the construct Pigsy said with a shrug, turning back to the parade. It was odd though... He hadn’t once mentioned MK like he had during the real festiv- “MK would have liked to see this.” Calabash. Reading her mind. Of course. “I miss the kid...”

So that was the angle Jade Face was playing with right now. Something simple. Something easy. The calm before the storm.

“Yeah, he would have,” Mei sad softly, not looking at the blood still running down her shirt. She watched as a ghost of a wound opened on Pigsy’s back over his clothing, like a preview image of what was to come, choosing to ignore how it looked suspiciously like her sword. Choosing to ignore how the blood seeped over his back and dissipated before hitting the ground and how she could see bits of bone and viscera she should not know the look of in person.

She ignored.

“You bastard,” Sun Wukong said with a hiss in his voice, baring his teeth at the Demon Bull King. “You- how could you have possibly thought that was a good idea!? In what universe would that have been the way to make him listen to you!?”

For his part, the Demon Bull King actually looked at least somewhat ashamed. Despite being larger than all of them put together the disapproving glares of Sun Wukong, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, and even Mo seemed to do their jobs well enough.

“I make no excuse for my words or actions that day,” he said firmly, standing straight with a shake of his head. “But do not doubt that I have regretted and wished to undo them every day since-”

“Since what?” Pigsy snapped, beating Wukong himself to the punch. “Since you said them? Or since he told you to fuck off?”

“Pigsy!” Tang whispered out loudly behind him, grabbing his shoulder and moving his disproving gaze from DBK to give the other man one of worry.

“No, it’s gotta be asked Tang,” Pigsy responded, glower not moving from the larger demon. He didn’t back down, gritting his teeth with a growl of his own building in his throat for them all to hear. “Answer me you-”

“Since he told us to leave him,” DBK answered, his honesty in his tone surprising the pig demon. His face was angry, but Pigsy could tell it wasn’t entirely at him. There was anger at himself there. “Again, I made no excuses. I was blinded by power and anger before and it took much more than it should have for us, both myself and my wife, to realize what we had done. That does not change that it happened.”

“... that’s why you let him stay,” Wukong said after a moment of silence between them. “That’s why you’ve been trying to convince him to come back and why you...” He scowled more, shaking his head with a conflicted look of anger and sorrow on his face. “You’re actually trying to make it up to him somehow.”

“Poorly,” DBK also admitted in shocking honesty, sighing before he rotated his shoulders and morphed in front of them. Shrinking down to a more reasonable side, not that much taller than Sandy. “I know I have made mistakes and this alone won’t set things right, but I do care about my son.” He said ‘son’ like it was the most odd word to say, like he hadn’t said it in a long time but he finally understood what it meant. After what he had told them, it made sense. “We will help you find him, and you have my word that should he chose to return to your side we will not stop him.”

“But you won’t stop trying to convince him to give you another chance, will you?” Wukong asked, looking up at DBK. His face was neutral once again, businesslike. Testing the waters.

“No, I won’t,” DBK admitted something for the third time, nodding his head. He was serious.

Wukong turned back to the rest of his companions, three of them looking at Pigsy instead of Wukong. The two once-brother in arms looked at each other. One middle brother and one eldest. Wukong nodded to Pigsy, a silent acquiescence.

‘It’s your decision now’ the nod seemed to say.

Pigsy waited a moment, weighing his options. This had only made his disdain for the Demon Bull Family grow more... but his kids were still in danger. What was worse? Working with someone he hated to help the people he cared about? Or pushing aside help they may desperately need due to that hate?

“... Fine. But you are going to give us everything we need.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” Princess Iron Fan’s voice rang through the room, entering the room with a veritable army of Bull Clones carrying everything from tech to tables and chairs in behind her. “Where shall we begin?”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #whump fic #hurt comfort #sfaut #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #fanfic

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imaginaryelle · 5 years

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If you're still taking asks, maybe a modern wangxian au where LWJ finds out WWX never learned to ride a bike so he decides to teach him? Or in line with those LWJ does something uncharacteristic but only for WWX's eyes (like winking at him) and WWX is so shocked and tries to convince anyone else that it happened but no one believes him. Just some general fluffiness 🤗

Anon, I hope you don’t mind that I threw A-Yuan in here too,because I had a brainwave halfway through writing this and “fluff”plus “Lan Wangji acting in ways other people won’t believe”came up with an answer of “A-Yuan.” (Also I re-watched relevantscenes and realized A-Yuan calls Wei Wuxian “Xian-gege” and Icould not resist.) This fic is ~2.7k and can also be read on AO3.

When Wei Wuxiansteps off the bus with A-Yuan balanced carefully against his hip, hefinds Yiling park is less crowded than expected for a sunny autumn day. That may be due to the exhibition downtown, or to the coolbreeze snaking over the grounds and blowing hair into people’sfaces no matter how carefully they’d tied their ponytail. He swipeshis hair back irritably and checks that A-Yuan’s coat is stillbuttoned up. It hadn’t been this cool back at his apartment, butafter a few months of babysitting Wei Wuxian has learned at least afew things, and one of thosethings is that Wen Qing will absolutely pummel him if he takes thekid out without a jacket.

“This is usually areally nice place,” he tells A-Yuan as they walk hand-in-tiny-handtoward the pedestrian boulevard. “When I was in school, fourdifferent classmates of mine got engaged here, over by the river, andthere’s a playground further in, and sometimes there arefireworks.”

The grounds haven’tchanged much since those days, which were, admittedly, only a yearago so he’s not sure what he was expecting. The walking paths arestill lined with trees and flower bushes for every season, and theelectric lanterns overhead creak as they swing in the breeze. It’sjust not really the sort of place he ever imagined Lan Wangjifrequenting. Full of couples and families with children, or usuallyfull anyway. Lan Wangji likes solitude and quiet. At least, he usedto.

Maybe something’schanged in the last few months. Something that would make himactually respond to one of Wei Wuxian’s messages for once. Andinvite him somewhere. On a not-date, because Wei Wuxian is verycertain that Lan Wangji doesn’t… date. And he definitely doesn’tdate university dropouts, no matter the state of their previousfriendship, or what sorts of daydreams and hopes Wei Wuxian stillguiltily harbors.

Not that theknowledge stops Wei Wuxian’ heart speeding up as he finally catchessight of a figure in a long white overcoat, standing quiet andself-contained next to one of the bubbling fountains spreadthroughout the park. Not that reminding himself of it keeps his palmsfrom sweating as they draw nearer.

“Lan Zhan,” hecalls when he can’t bear to wait any longer, and it’s gratifying,how quickly Lan Wangji turns.

“Wei Ying,” hesays, and there might even be a hint of a smile there before his eyeslock on A-Yuan and a frown etches itself between his brows. “Thisis …?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxianrealizes, quite suddenly, that he never actually… sent that updatetext about his situation. Oops. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologies.“This is A-Yuan. I don’t usually watch him on Saturdays, but hisfamily had a—a thing today.” He waves his free hand, as if it canencompass the Wen family’s various complications and commitments.

Lan Wangji staresdown at A-Yuan without responding.

“Is—is thatokay?” Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “If it’s not I think I’mfree next week—”

“It’s fine,”Lan Wangji says. And then, with some concern, “Is he cold?”

Wei Wuxian looksdown to find A-Yuan has turned his face into Wei Wuxian’s leg, likehe’s hiding from the wind. But he’s not shivering, or clinging.It’s more like his occasional behavior at the supermarket, whenit’s overcrowded.

“Ah, no, I thinkhe’s just shy.” He pets A-Yuan’s hair. “A-Yuan,” he coaxes,“This is Lan Zhan, Xian-gege’s friend from school. He’s the onewho invited us out to play today.” A-Yuan shakes his head and staysstubbornly turned into him. Wei Wuxian can barely bite back his smileas he says, “Lan Zhan, your face is too severe, he thinks you’reangry.”

Lan Wangji managesto look even more concerned at this, and Wei Wuxian laughs. “It’sfine, it’s fine, he really is shy. It took him two days to warm upto me when I was first watching him.” He slings off his backpackand nudges A-Yuan closer to the fountain. “He’ll do better for abit of a distraction.”

The backpack isoverstuffed with things he or A-Yuan might need, but it’s easyenough to find the butterfly and the dragon he likes best.

“A-Yuan,” hesays, holding them out, “Do you want to show Lan Zhan your toys?”

A-Yuan bites hislip, his little hands clenching tight as he reaches out and thenpulls back.

“A-Yuan ishungry,” he declares, and Wei Wuxian sighs.

“We ate lunch anhour ago. I told you already, we can get noodles in a little while.All I have for you right now is shrimp crackers and dried plums.”

A-Yuan pouts. Shrimpcrackers and dried plums are tied for his least favorite snack, butbetween his anticipation of this outing with Lan Wangji and theunexpected chaos his morning had turned into Wei Wuxian hasn’trefreshed his supplies yet this week. He sets the toys on the wideedge of the fountain and turns with a grimace. “Sorry, Lan Zhan,”he says. “Sometimes he—”

“Will these work?”Lan Wangji produces a brightly colored bag of Lotus chips and holdsthem out to A-Yuan, who nods eagerly.

“Lan Zhan...”Wei Wuxian watches him open the snacks and pick out a careful pile ofchips that he presents on a paper napkin. Watches A-Yuan smile widelyat him and offer up his most polite and heartfelt ‘thank you.’There’s another, immediately recognizable snack bag peeking out ofLan Wangji’s bike pannier—the spicy version of the same brand oflotus snacks, which Wei Wuxian had eaten almost every day while theywere in classes together and which he knows for a fact Lan Wangjipersonally abhors.

For a moment he’sso overcome with nostalgia and inexplicable gratitude that he can’teven see what’s directly in front of him until Lan Wangji call hisname.

“What?” heblinks hard and clears his throat before meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze.“Sorry, Lan Zhan, what-ah. What did you even want to do today,anyway?”

Lan Wangji looks athim for a moment, and then at A-Yuan happily eating and playing, andthen nods to himself. He goes back to his bike panniers and rummagesfor a moment, reappearing with a bike helmet, which he pushes intoWei Wuxian’s unresisting hands.

“What’s thisfor?” he asks, staring at it. It looks suspiciously like LanWangji’s own bike helmetwith the white and the blue detailing tomatch his fancy road bike,but he supposes it’s possible there’sa second one. Lan Wangji had to buy it somewhere, right?

“Riding,”Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian sighs and passes the helmet back.

“LanZhan, wherever you want to go I’m sure we can walk. Or catch a bus!Get a taxi. It’s too—too windy to bike, and there’s no seat forA-Yuan on a rental.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and huncheshis shoulders like he’s warding of chills. Hot noodles are soundingmore and more appealing.

“Youshould learn,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian goes still. Noteven remotely adate then. Definitely nota date. No, instead LanWangji has found yet another weakness to poke his long, beautifulfingers into. Damn him.

“Whotold you?”

LanWangji is impassive, as ever. “You were at the skate park. With WenQionglin.”

WeiWuxian frowns. He spends a few evenings a week at the skate park withWen Ning, but none of that time is really related to—oh. Oh.The trick bike, two weeks ago. Which means Lan Wangji saw him crashinto a bench and nearly break his wrist. Whoops.

“LanZhan, that was a one-time thing,” he promises. “Don’t worry,I’m not going to be trying that again.” Even if riding a bikewould be worlds more convenient than walking next time he misses thebus to work.“I’m fine, really. Thereare plenty of ways to get around the city.” Heturns on his heel and scrunches up his face in the direction of ahappy couple on the walkingpaths. This is reallynot—wait. “Wait.” He spinsback around. “Did you mean—youwant to teach me?”

LanWangji is looking down at the helmet in his hands, not meeting WeiWuxian’s eyes.

“Mn,”he says, low enough that Wei Wuxian can hardly hear it over the rushof the fountain. He leans closer.

“Isthere a special reason?” he asks with renewed hope.

“WeiYing should learn,” Lan Wangji repeats.

Somuch for that then. Wei Wuxian pouts. But maybe he can turn this tohis advantage. Bike riding lessons could take hours. Maybe days. Itcould take multiple meetings, with and without A-Yuan in tow. Atminimum, it means more time spent with Lan Wangji, more opportunitiesto figure out if this is friendship rekindled or—or something else.

“Okay.”He plucks the helmet from Lan Wangji’s hands and smiles at the hintof surprise on his face. “Let’s do it.”

Ofcourse, as with anything involving Lan Wangji, there arecomplications. It’s not enough to just get on a bike and point itdown a clear patch of pavement, no, there are steps.The first of which is wearing a helmet, which takes a few minutesto get settled properly; WeiWuxian has no idea how Lan Wangji manages to wear it and still havesuch perfectly neat hair all the time.Wei Wuxian does not have thatgift. His ponytail gets inthe way, and Lan Wangjimeets the suggestion that they could just move on without the helmetwith an icy stare. So Wei Wuxian takes down his hair and puts it upagain three separate times, and stops to tease A-Yuan and let himselfbe laughed at, and then the straps have to be adjusted again, andagain.

Thatpart at least is mostly pleasant. Lan Wangji stands close enough thatWei Wuxian can count his eyelashes as he frowns and messes withplastic clips and slips his fingers carefully between Wei Wuxian’sskin and the buckle. It takes two tries before he’s satisfied thatthe helmet isn’t going to slip off and leave Wei Wuxian to rattlehis brain against the concrete, and by the time he steps back WeiWuxian has very nearly convinced himself that a kiss would be aharmless, innocuous thing and not at all a risk that makes hisinsides tie themselves into knots. Very, very nearly, but notquite well enough to close that last bit of distance between them.

Adjustingthe bike’s seat is significantly more frustrating.

“It’sfine,” Wei Wuxian insists, impatient after getting on and off thebike four times for what seem to be extremely minor adjustments.

“It’ssafer if your feet can touch the ground while you’re learning,”Lan Wangji says, unhooking the latch again.

“Theytouch!” Wei Wuxian fumes. “I’m not that much shorterthan you, I’ll knock myself out with my own knees if that seat goesany lower.” Not that any of his protests seem to matter in the faceof Lan Wangji’s conviction.

Finally,finally, after the seat is adjusted and Lan Wangji hasstubbornly held the whole bike still so that Wei Wuxian can tryputting his feet on the pedals without falling over, they can reallyget underway. Wei Wuxian moves A-Yuan to a slightly safer distancefrom both bicycle and fountain, tells him to stay put so he doesn’tget hurt, and straddles the bike one last time. Lan Wangji holds ontothe rack in an effort to keep the bike steady without being directlyin the way, but it’s still a wobbly effort. Wei Wuxian looks downthe stretched out downhill slope of pavement before him and seesnothing but a hard surface to fall on. For a moment he considers themerits of calling the whole thing of and insisting on an early dinnerafter all. His wrist twinges with remembered pain.

ButLan Wangji has gone to so much effort, and this is the first timehe’s reached out for anything in months. If Wei Wuxian backsout now he might not get another chance to see him for even longer.

“Okay.”The handlebars wobble and he tightens his grip with a grimace; LanWangji’s biek is the lightest, most responsive bicycle he’s everso much as touched. “Okay,” he repeats. “What next, Lan Zhan?”

“Pedalslowly, and remember the breaks,” Lan Wangji says at his shoulder,and then they’re moving, Lan Wangji’s footsteps at his side asthe tires roll and the pavement speeds by, faster and faster, andthen he realizes he can’t hear Lan Wangji’s footsteps anymore andhe’s gliding along on his own. Coasting down the hill. Speedingup.

Thespeed is exhilarating. Like jumping off a diving board or taking thehalf-pipe a little too fast. He lets out a whoop and leans into itand tries to pedal faster, and then the bike leaps suddenly sideways,and there’s a moment of trying to pedal backwards and trying toreach the brake levers at the same time, and then the whole bikeshudders underneath him and the horizon slips sideways and he hitsthe ground and slides.

Fora few seconds he just lies on his side doing a mental inventory ofhis parts. Ow. His left ankle and upper arm hurt. There’s gravelunder his face. He has no idea where the bike is. He thinks A-Yuanmight be crying in the distance.

“WeiYing!” Lan Wangji’s voice draws nearer. “Wei Ying,” rightoverhead. A hand grabs at his shoulder, another pressing to his face.

“Xian-gege!”A-Yuan yells, almost directly into his ear, still crying, and WeiWuxian reaches a hand up for him.

“I’mokay,” he says as soothingly as he can, patting blindly at A-Yuan’shead.“Shhhh, Xian-gege is okay, A-Yuan.”

“WeiYing,” Lan Wangji repeats, like he thinks Wei Wuxian can’t hearhim.

“LanZhan.” Wei Wuxian struggles to sit up, a process made moredifficult by both A-Yuan andLan Wangji’s hoveringpresence so close to his face. “Did I scratch up your bike?” Helooks around for clues to its whereabouts, but Lan Wangji makes adismissive noise and grabs at his hand.

“Areyou hurt?” he asks.

“No,”Wei Wuxian lies. Bruises don’t count, especially not with LanWangji holding his hand. “Lan Zhan, I’m fine, I promise,” heinsists when Lan Wangji looks unconvinced. More than unconvinced, LanWangji looks almost regretful. “Hey, hey, no,” Wei Wuxiansqueezes his hand. Dares to tug him a little closer. “I’m fine.Nothing an ice pack won’t cure.”

“Xian-gege.”A-Yuan chooses that moment to crawl from Lan Wangji’s lap to hisand press tiny toddler hands into his face. “Xian-gege is hurt,”he says, pushing at Wei Wuxian’s cheeks in a way that does,admittedly, make him wince.

“Everything’sokay, A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian sighs and lets of of Lan Wangji’s handto wipe at the tears on A-Yuan’s cheeks. “I’m not hurt. I justmessed up. Do you remember what we do when we mess up?”

A-Yuannods seriously. “Try again,” he says dutifully, and Wei Wuxiangrins and bops his nose gently.

“That’sright! We try again. So that’s what we’re going to do, and thenwe’re going to go get noodles. Deal?”

“Mn!”A-Yuan nods eagerly.

“Deal,Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, still grinning even though his cheekhurts with it, and even though his whole body is probably going toache tomorrow morning, especially if he falls again. “Let merepay you for the lesson with dinner?”

LanWangji gives him a long, slow look, but there’s a hint of a smilethere. Just enough to send Wei Wuxian’s heart soaring all overagain.

“Mn,”he agrees.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #chen qing ling #a yuan #alex writes #Anonymous

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