#overwhelmed as he remembers (again and again) that wangji never stopped waiting for him

[antebunny]

Part 4 of the Maleficent AU. (Part three here).

Lan Wangji meets Mo Xuanyu almost four years after Wei Ying disappeared. He’s Jin Zixuan’s half-brother. One of his half-brothers, anyway. Jin Zixuan is the peacock spirit, but Mo Xuanyu has no wings.

Neither does Wei Ying. Not anymore.

Mo Xuanyu makes his existence known to Lan Wangji on the very day that the guest disciples arrive at the Cloud Recesses. He peeks out from the rows of Jin disciples, and something about his silver eyes looks unsettling contrasted with the bright Jin gold robes. Or perhaps it is just that Lan Wangji does not like someone who looks so much like Wei Ying to be dressed in Jin gold. 

Somehow, Mo Xuanyu is the highest ranked Jin disciple there. Lan Wangji has no idea how this happened; he didn’t think Jin Guangshan cared about his bastard children other than to use them as props. But Jin Zixuan is now married with a two year old son, and every higher ranking Jin disciples has already attended the lectures, which means that Mo Xuanyu is the de facto leader of this year’s Jin disciples.

“Welcome to the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen says. 

He’s still the one to greet the guest disciples, despite now being the official sect leader, because he knows better than to ask Lan Wangji to do it. He barely managed to get Lan Wangji out here at all. Lan Wangji thought he was antisocial before Wei Ying; after Wei Ying, he isn’t sure he’ll manage to talk to anyone, at all, ever again. 

Mo Xuanyu bows back, followed by his fellow disciples. “It is an honor, Sect Leader Lan.” When he straightens, there’s a smile on his face, a smile that invites Lan Xichen in on an untold joke.

Lan Wangji wants to wipe that smile off his face. It doesn’t belong to him. Neither does the bright, easy cadence he speaks with. Or the way his silver eyes crinkle when he smiles. Or the way the Jin disciples follow him like lost ducklings, asking for his advice on sword forms and talismans. Or the way he sometimes skips so high he stumbles upon landing, like he expected to continue going up. Or the way he undeterringly manages to worm his way into a heart that Lan Wangji had sworn belonged to someone else what feels like a lifetime ago. 

But the thing is, no one knows what happened to the Jiangs all those years ago. The Cloud Recesses were the first, but not the last place the Jiangs vanished from. Within a week there were no more Jiangs out on night hunts in the human realm. The Jiangs visiting other sects all disappear overnight, and no one has heard from them since. Most suspect a heavenly war of some sort, but only Lan Wangji and his family know that Wei Ying was the first Jiang to disappear. He doesn’t know why Wei Ying would be at the center of a heavenly war. He can’t imagine what changed the night of Wei Ying’s Grounding that placed him at the epicenter of a heavenly war. He also doesn’t understand why Wei Ying wouldn’t come to him for help, if that was indeed the case. 

Lan Wangji can’t fathom what occurred to make all the Jiangs disappear, and then for Wei Ying to come back in disguise as his brother-in-law’s half-brother, but all evidence points towards that being the case. 

“Lan Zha–Lan Wangji!” Mo Xuanyu spins around gracefully, back to the cave mouth. “What are you doing here?”

This is the third time in one week that Lan Wangji has caught him snooping around the caves at the top of the Gusu mountains. He’s getting more obvious–in terms of getting caught, and in terms of what he’s looking for. The cave that Wei Ying Mo Xuanyu is looking for is higher still, almost at the very top of the mountain. Lan Wangji knows because he goes there once a week. In fact, he was going there now, when he encountered Mo Xuanyu.

“This area is forbidden,” Lan Wangji says instead. 

“Forbidden? I had no idea!” Mo Xuanyu is the very picture of innocence. “Did the Lans add even more rules since–uh, last year?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “Four.”

Mo Xuanyu makes the same face that Wei Ying an exaggerated face of disbelief. “How is anyone supposed to remember so many rules?”

If this were Wei Ying, Lan Wangji would say “practice,” or maybe “discipline,” and Wei Ying would react like he’d told the funniest joke. Lan Wangji dares to hope, but he does not dare to joke. Instead, he says nothing at all.                             

“Well, I, uh,” Mo Xuanyu says, sidling past Lan Wangji, “I’m just going to go now, if the young master doesn’t mind.” 

Mo Xuanyu takes off running down the mountain. He skips over stones, his feet doing a little extra twist in the air like he doesn’t realize they’re going to come down. He jumps down ledges, runs down valleys and through the Gusu pines. He jumps, and he falls.

And he falls.

-

Wei Wuxian spends three terrible months in the Cloud Recesses before he finds the right cave. Every moment until then is a confusing mess, because the more time he spends with Lan Zhan, the less sure he is of everything. 

But the moment he enters the cave, his world narrows in focus. Row after row of wings line the walls. He recognizes most of them; they come in all sizes and shapes, from heron wings to rosefinch wings. Wei Wuxian wants to take all of them with him, return them to Lotus Pier, but he can’t. Lan Zhan’s been onto him, recently. It’s like every time Wei Wuxian even thinks of sneaking out into the mountains, Lan Zhan is there to remind him that he’s not allowed to. Unfortunately for Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian is good at adapting! And their cat and mouse game has led Wei Wuxian here, to the cave at the top of the mountains. 

Wei Wuxian can’t even stop to look at the other pairs of wings, because Lan Zhan is probably stalking through the mountains somewhere, trying to find him. He follows the unseen force calling in further in the cave. Almost absently, he flicks one hand out, burning up a talisman that he’s kept on him ever since he came back to the Cloud Recesses. 

And at the very back of the cave he sees them: his wings. They’re not hung up on the wall like the others, but placed on a cloth on the floor. As he approaches, heart hammering in his chest, he sees that they’ve been well cared for. Later the thought of others touching his wings will fill him with revulsion, but for now he’s overwhelmed with happiness at seeing his wings again. 

Footsteps echo from outside the cave, and Wei Wuxian snaps out of his fugue. He reaches for his wings with trembling hands, and they fuse back into place like they were never gone. An electric jolt shoots up Wei Wuxian spine, straightening his back while his mouth falls open at the sudden, familiar weight. 

Wei Wuxian turns around unsteadily, off-balance for the first time in years.  He flexes the long-unused back muscles, and tears spring to his eyes when his wings flex with them, sending a massive rush of wind through the cave. He takes off in a run, skips once, and flaps his wings once. The massive push sends him skimming across the stone floor all the way to the mouth of the cave. 

He’s brimming with exhilaration as he steps outside the cave, which is exactly when he sees Lan Zhan.

Ah, Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know where to begin untangling his feelings towards Lan Zhan. He’s had little to do in the past three years but do so, yet all he’s managed to do is confuse himself more. 

Perhaps the worst part of past-Wei Wuxian is that he would’ve given Lan Zhan his wings if only he’d asked. He never had to trick Wei Wuxian into marriage. Wei Wuxian knows what the worst part of present-Wei Wuxian is: he still doesn’t know what Lan Zhan would’ve done after he stole his wings. The question fills him with dread as much as it fills him with hope, and he’s never managed to kill the hope completely. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan sounds overwrought. His intense gaze drinks Wei Wuxian in like he’s water in the desert.

Wei Wuxian takes a step back. He hates how just the sound of his name makes his boots grind into the ground, like he could just sink away. “Lan Zhan,” he replies, and in the distance he sees flecks of purple in the sky. 

Lan Zhan takes two steps forward. Any closer, and he’ll be within reach of Wei Wuxian, who’s already at the cave entrance. “I do not understand.”

Wei Wuxian draws his wings back until the tips brush against the top of the cave entrance. Then with one powerful thrust, he’s up in the air, one foot above the ground, two feet. The flecks of purple become indistinct blobs. He doesn’t have time to enjoy it, not with the sudden, furious rush of anger. “You don’t understand?”

“Why did you leave?” Lan Zhan asks, so earnestly. 

“Why did I leave?” Wei Wuxian splutters, furious. His feet are at the height of Lan Zhan’s head. “Why did you do this?” One sharp gesture of his hand motions to the wings.

The purple blobs become tiny figures. Then tiny figures with wings.

“I do not understand,” Lan Zhan says again, so plainly that Wei Wuxian wants to cry.

“It’s not that complicated,” Wei Wuxian snarls. “Why did you betray me?”

Lan Zhan’s golden eyes widen. “I would never,” he denies.

“You’d never what?” Wei Wuxian shouts. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Betray your fiance? Mutilate your fiance?”

Behind Lan Zhan, hundreds of Jiang disciples swoop down from the skies, wings flared open, swords drawn. At their head are three of the four members of the main Jiang family.

“Fiance,” Madame Yu scoffs. “What a joke.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t turn around, or acknowledge the Jiangs’ presence in any way. “Wei Ying,” he says again, helplessly. Hopelessly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. Slowly, he drifts to the ground, until he’s once more eye to eye with Lan Zhan. He takes two steps forward, and the Jiangs stand back, waiting for him to make a decision. “Why?”

[sincerelystranger]

I just read both parts of your modern au and I wanna cry 😭 Lwj is just so whipped for wwx and I really loved it!!!! Do you plan on writing more?

More of the modern highschool AU! 

---

Wangji settles into bed and stares at the ceiling.

It’s rare that sleep evades him, but tonight, he feels strange and sad and his heart is too confused to let him fall asleep.

It’s the anniversary of his parents’ passing and it’s been a decade now since they passed and the pain of their loss is now more like a heavy ache on his shoulders and less like a sharp punch to the gut like it used to be – but that’s not the reason for his strange mood.

It’s silly and childish and a little bit mortifying but…

But he had to leave school early today to go visit his parents’ graves and because of that he hadn’t been able to walk home with Wei Ying…

It’s mortifying to feel upset about that – Wangji knows this. And he feels guilty for being more upset about losing out on his daily walk with Wei Ying than mourning the loss of his parents…

It’s just a walk…

Just…

Wangji’s phone buzzes suddenly on his desk.

Who could possibly be calling him this late? It must be spam. He’s tempted to ignore it but, perhaps due to his strange mood, he sighs and gets up to answer his phone.

He looks at his phone, fully prepared to press the ignore call button, but the name on the screen stops him.

Wei Ying.

He answers the phone quickly, his heart suddenly beating very loud in his chest.

“Hello?” he says hesitantly.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying greets cheerfully.

The strange sadness in Wangji’s chest immediately quiets at the sound of Wei Ying’s voice. He’s almost embarrassed for himself at how easy he is.

“Were you sleeping, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks.

“No,” Lan Zhan answers, careful not to sound too eager.  

“Mm, that’s good,” Wei Ying says. The noise around him is loud, windy, it sounds like he’s outside.

“Are you outside?” Lan Zhan asks worriedly. It’s cold out and it’s supposed to snow tonight. Wei Ying should be inside! Warm and safe and inside!  

“I am!” Wei Ying says delightedly, and he laughs like it’s funny. “How did you know, Lan Zhan? Are you watching me?”

“Silly,” Wangji says, but he can’t help but smile. Wei Ying is always so quick to laugh. So easy to amuse. It’s charming and too cute for Wangji to endure sometimes. “Why are you outside? It’s cold.”

“I’m on an important mission, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says seriously, but it’s pointless because Wangji can hear the smile in his voice.

“Boring,” Wangji says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Mean,” Wei Ying replies, but he sounds so fond that it makes Wangji’s ears go hot.

There’s a slight lull in their conversation. Wangji listens to the background noise on Wei Ying’s side and wracks his brain for things to say. He wants to keep this conversation going. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants Wei Ying to keep talking…

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, breaking Wangji from his internal dilemma, “hum that song for me – the one you wrote!”

“No,” Wangji says, feeling embarrassed. Wei Ying doesn’t know…

“Come on! Please!” Wei Ying whines, “I’m outside and it’s cold and listening to that song will be my only comfort.”

“Go inside,” Wangji replies.

“I can’t. I’m on a mission!” Wei Ying says.

“What is this mission?” Wangji asks.

“It’s a secret mission. Someone I care about is a bit sad today – I’m going to try to make them happy,” Wei Ying says, and Wangji feels a little bit... jealous? Who is this mission for? Why is Wei Ying calling Wangji if he’s on some secret mission for someone else…  

“Come on,” Wei Ying says again, “Hum that song for me, please?”

“You know the song as well as I do,” Wangji says softly, his ears growing hot again as he remembers how Wei Ying whistled it on his way out of the classroom. “You hum it.”

“I like it when you hum it,” Wei Ying says petulantly, “Besides, I had to walk home alone today and now I’m on this secret mission – braving the cold and the outside alone! Hum me the song, Lan Zhan – please~”

Wangji bites his lip and considers Wei Ying’s plights. If he’s honest with himself, he’s delighted that Wei Ying complained about walking home alone.

Maybe Wangji wasn’t the only one feeling sad about that…

Maybe Wei Ying missed him too…

Maybe he can indulge Wei Ying this once…

He starts humming the song, valiantly fighting against his own embarrassment at the situation.  He feels awfully silly humming his silly love song to Wei Ying as he sits in his room alone.

But if this is what Wei Ying wants…

Well, if Wangji is honest with himself, he’s never been able to deny Wei Ying anything anyway.

Wei Ying is quiet when Wangji finishes humming his song.

Wangji is quiet too, sitting in his strange emotion of embarrassment and pleasure. He counts the seconds that Wei Ying is quiet on the other end of the line.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says finally, and his voice is breathless.

“Mn?” Wangji hums, trying his best to sound calm and collected and not nervous at all.

“Lan Zhan, look outside of your window.”

Wangji stands and walks over to his window.

Wei Ying grins widely up at him, waving his arm wildly.

Wangji is speechless. He can’t do anything but stare. He thinks his mouth might be open in shock.

“Aren’t you happy to see me, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks through the phone, and only then does Wangji have the sense to open the window.

“What are you doing here?” Wangji asks, still through the phone, because his room is on the second floor, and he’s sure that shouting down to Wei Ying will awaken his uncle.

“My secret mission,” Wei Ying says. He puts his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls something out. “I’m gonna throw this, okay? Make sure to catch it.”

Wangji is so lost and confused, but he nods. He puts his phone down on the window will and prepares to catch whatever Wei Ying is going to throw at him.

Wei Ying tosses the object up to him and Wangji catches it easily with both hands.

He brings his phone back to his ear as he inspects the object Wei Ying threw at him. It’s a small wooden box, it has legs and it looks like it would open.

“Open it,” Wei Ying says.

Wangji opens it carefully, his eyes on Wei Ying the entire time.

Tinkling music starts to play. One note after the other a familiar melody takes shape.

“I had to guess the notes so it might not be perfect,” Wei Ying says.

Wangji’s heart feels in danger of bursting. His eyes burn and his throat aches. “It’s perfect,” he says softly. He closes it suddenly, because he thinks that if he hears anymore he really might cry.

“You wrote a really good song, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, smiling up at Wangji. His cheeks are red from the cold and his eyes are sparkling and… “I hope it brings you as much comfort as it brings me.”

“Mn,” Wangji nods. He holds the little music box tightly in his hand, feeling so overwhelmed and so undeserving that he aches. He feels too big for his skin and he almost wants to jump out of this window and…

“Okay, mission completed!” Wei Ying laughs. He waves at Wangji again. “Goodnight, Lan Zhan!”

“Goodnight,” Wangji replies, still feeling shell-shocked.

Wei Ying ends their call and puts his phone into his pocket. He smiles widely one more time and turns to leave.

“Wait!” Wangji yells suddenly – not caring if it wakes his uncle or not.

Wei Ying turns to look up at him in confusion.

Wangji runs to his closet and pulls out his scarf. He hurriedly throws it down to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying catches it and wraps it around his neck. He winks at Wangji and turns to leave again.

“I love you,” Wangji says quietly, watching Wei Ying as he jumps over the fence. “I love you.”

Wei Ying turns around when he hits the street and waves to Wangji again.

Wangji waves back.

“I love you.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10, pt 11, pt 12, pt 13

- Chapter 14 -

“I would like your advice on something,” Meng Yao said to his mother.

Meng Shi was wearing silk again, rich colors that suited her – she had fully recovered from the serious illness she’d had a few years back, something for which he would be forever thankful to Qinghe’s doctors because he knew she wouldn’t have made it if they were on their own –  and a fur-lined jacket that made her look especially comfortable. She finished pouring the tea and smiled at him.

“You do?” she teased. “Still, after all these years?”

“I’m never too old for your advice,” he said and kissed her on the cheek before sitting down.

The weiqi board in the corner was midway through a game, he noticed, and was glad: Sisi was terrible at weiqi, and the only other person who routinely played against Meng Shi was Nie Huaisang. Things between them had grown better as he’d grown older – he loved to paint, to play, to keep birds and raise flowers, and those were the things Meng Shi liked the most.

It was good to see them spending time together. Meng Yao hoped that Meng Shi could show Nie Huaisang how to forgive, and to remember how to be as carefree as he had once been.

After all, Nie Huaisang had taken up what had once been Meng Yao’s duties, during the war, all the intelligence work and strategy, the battlefield clean up and the politics, and it had left its marks. Indeed, if Meng Yao had been anyone other than Nie Huaisang’s dearly beloved brother, he would probably be the subject of a decade-long plan of utter obliteration right now, good motivations or not – in fact, he was pretty sure that Nie Huaisang had one already plotted out, and was still considering it an option if Meng Yao didn’t make regular deposits on the infinity of fans he apparently owed him.

(The brat wouldn’t take duplicates, either. Meng Yao had put in an order for someone to send him an entire ship’s worth from Dongying in the hopes that that would earn him a little credit. The relevant someone being Wei Wuxian, who was off exploring the world with Lan Wangji - possibly for no other reason than to get away from the rest of them all teasing them about the long and overly dramatic way in which they’d confessed their affections for each other.) 

Still, Nie Huaisang had forgiven Meng Yao, even if he hadn’t forgotten, and they were most of the way back to being as they had been before – which admittedly was closer than he’d ever been with Meng Shi, who Nie Huaisang seemed to treat as a casual acquaintance instead of a mother. He treated her about the same as Sisi, actually, and usually acted as if he thought Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue were his birth parents instead of his brothers.

And possibly Lan Xichen as some sort of rich uncle he could (and routinely did) extort for gifts.

(He still called him ‘pretty gege’, though he’d recently started up several debates – mostly monologues –  as to whether Lan Xichen ought to now be called ‘er-ge’ and Meng Yao ‘san-ge’ according to their ages, being that he was now part of the family, or if they should just all go ahead and get properly married already so that he could call him ‘sao-zi’ instead. They’d all collectively decided to ignore him.)

“Is it about those sworn brothers of yours?” she asked, lips curving up into a smile that was entirely unlike the practiced ones she had once used most of the time, a real one that was a little bit crooked, and that made it all the more beautiful in his eyes.

Meng Yao batted his eyelashes at her. “I will of course let myself be guided by Mother.”

She laughed. “I think it’s a good cover,” she said. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, now, and she didn’t try to hide it with make-up or anything else. Meng Yao treasured every blemish and imperfection. “You three can spend all your time in each other’s pockets, putting each other above everything else, and no one will question it – or, well, question it too much.”

“Let them talk,” Meng Yao said. There would never come a day when people didn’t whisper about him behind their sleeves, calling him the son of a whore, and nothing he could do, no matter how hard he tried, would stop it. He could only adjust his own thinking and ignore them, at peace in his heart with the knowledge that they were wrong about him. With the knowledge that he was better than they were or indeed would ever be.

Perhaps there was something to Lao Nie’s old exhortation after all.

“But do they have something to talk about?” his mother asked, arching her eyebrows at him. “You retire to the same room to sleep, but I’ve never seen any of you walking strangely the morning after – what are you waiting for? Actual marriage vows?”

“The sworn brother oath served that purpose,” Meng Yao said dismissively, just as he’d explained time and time again to Nie Huaisang. It was just as permanent, after all; they would be bound together in this life and the next, each name forever placed alongside the others in the annals of history. “And we’re just moving slowly.”

He’d explained, in the end, what Wen Ruohan had wanted, what Nie Mingjue was, what that meant; he didn’t want to keep it hidden and risk anyone later thinking that he was taking advantage.

He didn’t want to keep even one more secret from his lovers in this lifetime.

Nothing. Not even surprise parties.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t cared one bit about finding out that he was a furnace, because of course he didn’t; he was still an idiot after all these years. Lan Xichen, at least, had been rightfully alarmed – neither he nor Meng Yao wanted to risk harming Nie Mingjue by accident, no matter how much he argued that his cultivation was high enough that he wouldn’t even notice a setback, and anyway that he trusted them not to try to steal away from him.

Nie Mingjue had finally convinced them to try, the night after they’d taken the oath. Emotions had been running high, and they’d all fallen into bed together, their blood running hot.

It had been – an experience, to say the least.

Sex was pleasant, something Meng Yao knew intellectually from his days in the brothel and personally from the few experiences, male and female, he’d forced himself to have in order to ensure he didn’t have any demons in his heart on the subject. He’d been glad to confirm that although he liked it well enough, it wasn’t so good that he would become addicted to the feeling, descending into dissipation and cruelty the way his father had.

What they’d shared together on that night, however…that wasn’t just sex.

That was something he could become addicted to.

Meng Yao had insisted on a strict moratorium on any further activities until they could process what had just occurred, and it had been telling that neither Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had argued.

It had been mindblowing, a combination of overwhelming physical pleasure and emotional satiation, and then there was the spiritual ecstasy of cultivation – Meng Yao’s own cultivation, never especially strong, increased at an almost frightening pace for the next week, and Lan Xichen had confirmed a similar effect had occurred for him. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation seemed just as high as ever, unharmed, but obviously they had to do more research before they did anything else lest they accidentally cause harm to him somehow.

That meant they were back down to the basics, limiting themselves to rubbing up against each other at night and offering each other helping hands, given that Meng Yao and Lan Xichen weren’t willing to do anything together if it meant excluding Nie Mingjue – though recently they’d figured out that Nie Mingjue could narrate pornography without batting an eyelash with that frankly magnificent voice of his, and also that he liked telling people what to do (they knew that already, but still)…

They were going slowly. That’s how Meng Yao thought of it, and it was fine – he had no doubt that they’d figure out how to move to the next step sooner or later.

Sooner rather than later, given how quickly Lan Xichen was pouring through their respective sect libraries; apparently sexual frustration was a very effective motivator for him.

“If you’re sure you’re happy,” his mother said, and he smiled. “You seem to be. I’m glad.”

He nodded.

“So if it’s not about that, what do you want advice on? You haven’t needed to consult me on political matters in years. A-Sang would be better at that.”

“It’s not entirely political,” Meng Yao said, “though it’s not entirely apolitical, either, and don’t worry, I’ll consult Huaisang as well. Nevertheless, I wanted your views on the subject. You see, a rather complicated situation has arisen…I’ve been made an unusual offer.”

“An offer? A-Yao…”

“I know, I know,” he said, smiling. “Be careful of offers from strange men, especially bad men, and this is exactly that. But I still thought it was something worth considering. After getting the benefit of your insight, of course.”

“Well, then,” she said. “Now I’m curious. What’s the offer?”

He gave her the letter that he had received and drank his tea while she read it, her eyes going wide and then even wider.

“So,” he said, when he judged that she was done. “What do you think? Do I look like a ‘Jin Guangyao’? Or should I tell my father to go commit anatomically improbable acts on himself?”

“A-Yao…”

“I’m serious,” Meng Yao insisted. “This was always your dream, well before it was mine: whatever you decide, I’ll do. If you’d like for me to claim what should have been mine from the start, I’ll do it, though obviously if he thinks a mere name is enough to convince me to leave Qinghe in favor of Lanling he’s got a nasty surprise coming his way. But if you want me to tell him to his face that I’d rather be your son than his, I’ll do that too.”

He leaned back in his chair, and smiled.

“After all, I already have everything I want.”

- END -

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

((~2.4K of a much larger fic that I’ll keep posting snippets of!))

(Part 1)

———

“Father?”

“A-Yuan,” he replies as he cleans his brush and turns his head, the sharp, raw edges of his grief softening as he watches A-Yuan rub sleepily at his eyes in the soft candlelight warming the Jingshi. “What’s wrong?”

He sits still as A-Yuan crosses the room to clamber into his lap, sitting himself squarely in the hollow of his crossed legs facing him, and Wangji wraps his arms around him automatically, a concerned frown on his lips as A-Yuan collapses forward to nuzzle into his chest.

“A-Yuan?”

“I’m sad,” he replies softly and Wangji’s own grief is immediately shoved aside in favor of his son’s.

“Why? What happened?” he asks, his voice as neutral as it can be when he’s already burning inside with the desire to protect his and Wei Ying’s son from any and all harm.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan replies and then he’s sniffling and Wangji realizes that he’s crying and he immediately curls around him, shielding him with his arms and shoulders, his unbound hair falling around them in a dark curtain. He ducks down to gently kiss A-Yuan’s bare forehead where his headband sits during the day and he strokes a hand slowly over his hair, brushing it back from his face as he lets the boy cry uninterrupted. His child will never have to mourn in lonely silence like he did, even if what he’s mourning may be trivial by an adult’s standards.

Wangji holds his crying son and lets a tear or two slip as well, his heart too fragile and raw today to stay stoic while his child hurts.

“What’s wrong A-Yuan?” he finally asks softly when the boy’s crying has subsided and he keeps stroking his hair back from his face for him even as he turns around to sit forward and face the table holding the guqin, his back and head resting on Wangji’s chest.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan repeats, audibly pouting, and Wangji panics a bit. How can he fix it if A-Yuan can’t tell him what to fix? “I tried to sleep, but then I got sad and I wanted to cry.”

Wangji knows that the fever A-Yuan was fighting when he found him in the Burial Mounds has, perhaps in an act of divine mercy, kept him from remembering his life before he woke up properly in Cloud Recesses. But sometimes Wangji wonders if those memories are still there somewhere in his mind, and if sometimes he misses his first family, the village that raised a happy child in the midst of war and death.

“I am sad tonight as well,” Wangji confesses quietly, his barriers nonexistent around the person in his life who loves him unconditionally with the sweet trust of a child. “It is alright to be sad, even if you do not know why,” he adds as he reaches out to rest his hands on his guqin. A-Yuan immediately stretches his arms out to rest his little hands on top of Wangji’s and he relaxes just a little, thinking to himself that it’s nearly time to begin helping A-Yuan choose the instrument he’ll wish to learn for his musical cultivation.

“Close your eyes, A-Yuan. It’s time to rest,” he instructs gently and then he starts to play.

Memories of Wei Ying come flooding in as he plays the song he wrote for him. As he plays he can almost imagine the sound of a flute accompanying the strings and he sucks in a deep breath, his entire being - the very essence of himself - longing for Wei Ying.

A-Yuan dozes in his lap, his hands going limp where they still cover his own, and once he’s sure that the boy is unlikely to wake again Wangji closes his eyes and begins to channel the familiar flow of his energy. He stills the strings with his palms and then begins to pluck them delicately, listening hard.

‘Wei Ying?’ Wangji knows that it’s unlikely to work. He has to try anyway.

When there’s no answer, he pours more spiritual force into the question, sends it out further.

‘Wei Ying?’ He lifts his hands from the strings and stares at them, willing them to play Wei Ying’s response.

Nothing.

Wangji lingers for a while longer until his last glimmer of hope that Wei Ying will come to him tonight fades into nothing. A-Yuan is fast asleep in his arms so Wangji stands carefully and returns him to his bed, tucking the covers tightly around him to make sure he feels safe and warm. He extinguishes the candles in the main room with a wave of his hand and then he retires to his own bed, feeling numb. Tomorrow he will do it again, and nothing will change.

-

By unspoken agreement in the days following, A-Yuan begins to attend as well when Wangji practices his guqin in the evening.

It began the following night, and has continued every night since, with A-Yuan leaving the toy he was playing with to climb into his lap and rest his little hands on top of his again. Wangji can’t help but feel pleased that it seems the boy is going to want to choose to follow in his footsteps.

When he puts A-Yuan to bed after their practice has relaxed him, Wangji continues to return to the instrument and ask for Wei Ying. He knows that it’s fruitless, that there have been five years of nothing now and it’s unlikely that he remains. Even his body can’t be found, and Wangji knows that it’s entirely too possible that the resentful energies he held were too powerful to leave even a corpse or a shred of spiritual cognition once the spirits had him in their grasp.

He can’t stop searching.

Three weeks have passed since he sent his last search party out before one of the other pairs returns. He’s walking with A-Yuan around the training yard and observing the swordsmanship lesson when the husband/wife cultivation partnership he’d sent out towards Lanling approaches. He freezes in place and feels A-Yuan look up at him in confusion, but now is not the time or place to answer his questions. Wangji glances at the disciples practicing their sword forms, spots one he recognizes quickly, and he signals her to approach.

“Please take A-Yuan to play with his friends in the Children’s Hall, either myself or his uncle will retrieve him in a few hours,” he instructs.

“Hanguang Jun,” she replies with a bow and then she holds a hand out to A-Yuan and Wangji gives him a nod to reassure him as he glances back at him over his shoulder on his way around the courtyard with his new escort.

“Hanguang Jun,” the pair greets as he turns his attention to them and he returns their bow with his heart in his throat. Thankfully these are cultivators who know him reasonably well (as well as anyone outside his very small family circle can) so they know he has no interest in pleasantries.

“We flew the perimeter of Lanling, as instructed,” the husband of the pair begins. “We sensed nothing unusual and began landing in towns and cities to ask about strange occurrences, night hunting where necessary but always deferring to our fellows in the Jin Sect where possible.” Wangji is growing impatient so he’s relieved when the woman rests her hand on her husband’s arm to stop his full report.

“We see no sign of him, Hanguang Jun. Not even a whisper of the Yiling Patriarch except for idle gossip that flows like water from the mountain. We apologize for our shortcomings.” Wangji watches as the pair sketch another bow, discomfited by their nervousness to approach someone they saw as such an imposing figure with bad news.

“Do not apologize,” he replies simply around the tightness in his throat. “Rest today and return to your regular duties in the morning.” He begins to bow and then quietly murmurs, “Thank you.”

He watches them as they leave, walking almost close enough to touch and in perfect synchronicity with each other, and he aches.

-

For the next few weeks things go much the same way. One by one the search parties return, and one by one his hopes for news are dashed. By the time the last pair he’d sent out have returned from Yiling itself with empty hands, he’s too exhausted to continue asking others to search for Wei Ying. The waiting, the hope, and the inevitable disappointment have become too much to stomach. He wants to go himself, continue the search when he can be in control of it.

But he’s got A-Yuan to think of, and bringing him along is out of the question. The places he wants to search are dangerous and certainly no place for children, especially since Wangji wants to go by himself. He hasn’t hunted with another partner since Wei Ying and quite frankly he doesn’t ever want to, and he can’t singlehandedly fight and protect his son at the same time. But the idea of leaving A-Yuan behind now that they’ve become so bonded and such an important part of each other’s lives makes him feel physically ill.

The only thing that makes him feel worse is not looking for Wei Ying.

After his period of isolation but before he had officially taken over raising A-Yuan, Wangji had gone searching for him. He’d heard the news from Xichen that Sect Leader Jiang had been unable to find any trace of Wei Ying’s whereabouts, but he’d refused to let that discourage him. As soon as he was able, he’d gone to Nightless City to begin the search for him, only returning to Cloud Recesses when he had exhausted the potential of every possible ravine, every crevice, every dungeon, every rock. It was only the thought of A-Yuan and Wei Ying’s overwhelming love for the boy that had convinced him to return home to his duties. It’s been two years since the end of that search and the parts of him that ache for Wei Ying are yearning to return to it.

Playing the spirit communion pieces on his guqin helps curb his desire to go flying off without a word to keep looking.

‘Wei Ying?’ he asks for what feels like the thousandth time. As long as he receives no answer, he’ll never tire of sending those notes into the air. He takes comfort in them, really. In the music that communicates his soulmate’s name.

Wei Ying?

Wei Ying?

Wei Ying?

“Wangji.” The voice at the door startles him, his surprise evident only in the way his fingers twitch on the strings.

"Uncle," he greets stiffly in return. He makes no move to stand and he knows it's disrespectful but he can't quite bring himself to care. It's late and he'd expected to be alone. He wants to be alone.

"Enough of this, Wangji," Lan Qiren says with no other preamble and Wangji doesn't even deign to look up at him. He'd always hated Wei Ying, and the longer Wangji’s mourning goes on the less inclined he is to forgive the people who feel such negative things for the other. "Do you think people don't notice that you search for Wei Wuxian endlessly? Do you think they don't wonder at the reason?"

"Gossip is forbidden in Cloud Recesses," he recites dutifully, voice edging a little sharper. A warning, if Lan Qiren is willing to hear it.

"That doesn't mean they don't notice, Wangji," he retorts and only then does Wangji raise his eyes to meet the older man's. His face is as impassive as his Uncle's is twisted in anger.

Wangji meets his Uncle's glare levelly and, without breaking eye contact, gently plucks the strings again.

Wei Ying?

"WANGJI!"

"Shouting is prohibited in Cloud Recesses," Wangji replies and then adds, as an afterthought, "And in my home. A-Yuan is sleeping."

"You have duties here, Wangji," Lan Qiren replies tightly, though he's at least lowered his voice so Wangji can stop worrying that he's going to wake the boy sleeping just one room away. "You're distracted."

"Does my work displease? Xichen says nothing."

Lan Qiren is silent and Wangji stands slowly, tucking one hand behind his back and facing his uncle straight on. He used to fear him, the impact he had, the influence. He used to be so, so afraid.

His fear of the judgement of others died with Wei Ying.

"Uncle. I will continue to do my duty to my family and sect. Wei Ying is my familial duty as well. I will continue to search," he says quietly and he's fascinated to watch some unnameable emotion pass over Lan Qiren's features.

"It will only hurt."

"Even so," he murmurs, practically soundless, as he nods and keeps his eyes trained low. "I have a duty to him."

"Why?"

Wangji doesn't even dignify that question with a response. It had been asked of him before in various ways, and he is tired of answering when it seemes like it should be so obvious. Why would he stand with him? Side with him? Fight with him? Heal him? Care for him? Do his best to find him not once but twice now? Why? Why? Why?

He can't believe people are still asking him. He hates himself a little for not making his thoughts and intentions clearer, because clearly he didn't if everyone still feels the need to question his motives like this.

"Wangji. Eventually you'll have to stop."

"When I find him, I will stop."

His words are met with nothing but a long-suffering sigh and Wangji knows already that he's won this particular argument. The feeling is..almost novel, to win an argument against Lan Qiren.

"Nothing will dissuade you?"

"Nothing."

"Go, then."

Trust uncle to still find a way to surprise him and make him feel like he's on his back foot.

"Go?"

"Search for him. Xichen and I will watch Lan Yuan for you. Go find him."

Wangji freezes and thinks about the implications of his uncle offering this to him. No time limits, no rules, just an offer to care for their son so that Wangji can go find Wei Ying and bring him home. He's struck momentarily speechless and he's grateful that Lan Qiren lets him have this silence, letting him think it over in his usual ponderous way.

"I will leave in the morning after I deliver A-Yuan to the Children's Hall," he decides. It's fast, but he's been anxious to leave and search for weeks now. He feels guilt surge through his chest at the thought of leaving his son, but he knows that he, at least, will be safe and loved in Cloud Recesses, and it's Wangji who will be aching more for his own bed and his family.

"See to it. Goodnight Wangji."

"Goodnight Uncle."

[foularcadebanana]

To Forgive and Forget

Day 7 Prompt for the Untamed Fall Fest 2020 is ‘Reunion’. I was inspired to write this from my previous prompt. So although this is a stand-alone, it can be read as a sequel to my previous fic ‘Smothering You with Love’.

Jiang Cheng did not know what to make of Sect Leader Nie’s visit to Lotus Pier. It had been a few months since the Guanyin Temple incident, but Jiang Cheng was still wary of him. Especially since the Sect Leader could have chosen any other time period to visit him, but he chose to visit Jiang Cheng when Wei Wuxian was temporarily residing under his roof.

Wei Wuxian had told Jiang Cheng that he would be staying for a while, just to take a break from travelling for some time before he resumed it.

“Apple must be tired from all of the travelling. She hasn’t been eating that well. Maybe I could take her to a vet one of these days,” Wei Wuxian had insisted.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t believed Wei Wuxian’s idiotic reasons for even a second, but he also hadn’t dared to hope for what the true reason might be.

This meant that when Sect Leader Nie arrived at Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng stood at the docks to greet him along with Wei Wuxian, who actually seemed happy at the thought of meeting him again.

“It’ll be like meeting up with an old friend,” he had said.

“After everything that’s happened, how can you call him a friend?” Jiang Cheng had asked.

“It is because of everything that has happened that I still call him a friend,” Wei Wuxian had responded.

As Sect Leader Nie stepped off of the boat, Wei Wuxian greeted him with a hug. Sect Leader Nie hugged him back and Wei Wuxian whispered something to him that made him laugh.

Jiang Cheng observed that Sect Leader Nie’s fan was still tied to his robes. He never hid his face with it anymore, he didn’t cover up his emotions with it either. They were for the entire world to see now.

Sect Leader Nie approached Jiang Cheng cautiously, as though approaching a wild animal. Jiang Cheng’s reputation as the Sandu Shengshou was probably to blame for that. “Sect Leader Jiang,” Sect Leader Nie bowed politely to him. “It is a pleasure to be here.”

“Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng mirrored the gesture just as politely. “It is a pleasure to have you here.”

For a few moments, they just stared at each other. Nie Huaisang…Sect Leader Nie opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something to Jiang Cheng, but then he shut it and looked away. A knot appeared in Jiang Cheng’s throat at that, making him look away too.

“So, should we go inside? Because I’m starving,” Wei Wuxian said, walking past them and gesturing for them to follow him. Their path back inside, away from the docks was littered with leaves. Silence surrounded them as they walked on the wooden planks, the air thick and heavy with unanswered questions and stirred emotions ready to burst.

Jiang Cheng was startled out of his deep thoughts as he bumped into Wei Wuxian. He was about to berate him and ask him what he thought he was doing, when his eyes fell on the thing that had made Wei Wuxian stop. Even Nie Huai— Sect Leader Nie held his breath as he looked at it.

It was a pile of leaves. It almost reached up to Wei Wuxian’s knees. None of them moved a single muscle as memories of Gusu flowed through their minds. Of the way Jiang Cheng had fallen into the pile of leaves outside their rooms in Gusu with Wei Wuxian on top of him, and Nie Huaisang had chosen to join them by falling on top of Wei Wuxian.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang spoke up, turning to Wei Wuxian. “I never did manage to ask you. Had you actually drawn yourself kissing Lan Wangji on the piece of parchment back then or had you just been joking with us?”

Jiang Cheng watched the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck turn red. “I had drawn us kissing.” And just like they had back then, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang shared a look before dissolving into fits of giggles. Jiang Cheng sighed, wishing he could let go of old hurts and wounds as easily as his two companions could, and wishing he could be as carefree as they seemed to be in that moment.

“Huaisang, do you remember how we smothered Jiang Cheng with our love?” Wei Wuxian asked Nie Huaisang, and Jiang Cheng bristled.

“You didn’t smother me with love, you stupid fucker, you smothered me with your giant ass!”

Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian began another bout of laughter, making Jiang Cheng’s anger rise up. “Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, tears running down his face as he laughed. “You’re amazing.”

“Ah, Jiang-xiong, you truly are!” Nie Huaisang said laying a hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, and suddenly, everything grew quiet. Nie Huaisang straightened up, pulling his hand away as he realised what he had done. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

Jiang Cheng swallowed down his anger, knowing that his terrible temper was to blame for the tense expressions on Nie Huaisang’s and Wei Wuxian’s faces. All he did was bring his bottled-up rage to eradicate fun wherever he went. His brother and his friend were better off without his particular brand of anger and hatred.

“For what?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice cracking slightly. Nie Huaisang chanced a glance at him and blinked. Wei Wuxian’s shoulders seemed to relax too.

Nie Huaisang reached out to Jiang Cheng, hesitated, and then gently held Jiang Cheng’s hand between both of his. “For everything,” he said softly, sounding every bit as sincere as he looked. “I know it’s too little too late, but I truly am.”

And maybe, just maybe, Jiang Cheng was tired of holding life-long grudges and being angry all the time. Maybe for once, he just wanted to forgive and forget and be as carefree as the two men standing in front of him.

So, he nodded his head. “Okay,” he said.

He saw a hopeful look on Nie Huaisang’s face. “Okay?”

Jiang Cheng nodded his head. “I forgive you Huaisang. It’s alright.”

“You really mean that?” Huaisang asked, and Jiang Cheng realised that Nie Huaisang had been Jiang Cheng’s friend for almost two decades now, until the Guanyin Temple incident, and they had been awfully close during that time.

They had constantly written letters to each other, mostly gossiping and bitching about their elders and other sect leaders. Jiang Cheng had attended Nie Mingjue’s funeral and Nie Huaisang hadn’t left Jiang Cheng’s side during his sister’s and brother-in-law’s funeral. He had always been there for Jiang Cheng when he had become too wound up about Sect Leader duties or when he grew frustrated with Jin Ling.

Jiang Cheng in turn had always been there when Nie Huaisang had felt too overwhelmed by Sect Leader duties or to offer advice when he didn’t know whether he was making the right decisions for his sect and his people. So, their friendship probably meant just as much to Nie Huaisang as it did to Jiang Cheng.

“I really mean it.” Jiang Cheng reassured and saw Nie Huaisang’s features brighten and his eyes light up. He gave Jiang Cheng a genuine smile, and Jiang Cheng felt a warmth growing in his chest because of it.

“Now that you two have sorted things out, can I smother our Sect Leader Jiang under my tiny, sexy ass again or do I have to wait until Nie-xiong goes away?”

Jiang Cheng was inside his home, walking along the corridors of Lotus Pier before Wei Wuxian could complete his sentence.

“Oiii! Jiang Cheng, where did you go?” Wei Wuxian asked loudly.

“Jiang-xiong?” Nie Huaisang’s head peaked inside although his body was still outside.

“Huaisang, why don’t you let Wei Wuxian know that I have Sect Leader duties to attend to? I will meet both of you and talk to you later.” Jiang Cheng responded calmly. As soon as Nie Huaisang’s peeking head disappeared, however, Jiang Cheng sprinted away as though running for his dear life.

READ ON AO3

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 13

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin (OC), Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs

Summary: Wei Wuxian has a difficult start to the day, Lan Wangji learns something he didn't expect, and Wen Qing oversees a unique medical experiment.

Notes: Intended to get further in this, but was at a good stopping point and already over 3K words. We don’t know a whole lot about Wei Wuxian’s time with the Wen in Burial Mounds. While it’s unlikely he dealt with near-possession, the shift of Lan Wangji staying changed a lot of things. They could afford more crops, so he had to clear the resentment from more land. That combined with the emotional exhaustion from talking to Lan Xichen left him open. Unintended consequences.

AO3 link

Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

------------

Wei Ying, when Lan Wangji wakes him for breakfast in the morning, is alarmingly withdrawn. His eyes are hazy, unfocused. He barely reacts when Lan Wangji places his bowl of breakfast in his hands, and ultimately he feeds him. It is a slow process, Wei Ying sometimes needing prompting. 

If not for his reluctance to leave his husband alone in such a state, he would go looking for Wen Qing. Instead he focuses on feeding him and having him drink the medicine Wen Ning brought with breakfast. 

By the time she arrives, Wei Ying has slipped back to sleep. 

“It’s the pain, and probably one of his bad days on top of it,” she tells him when he asks. 

Wei Ying, he learns, often sequesters himself from the others, sometimes not leaving the cave for several days. He spends that time feverishly inventing cultivation tools.

“It’s a distraction,” she says, sounding tired. “Whatever is going on in his mind, he’s trying to distract himself from it however he can—he’d probably numb himself with alcohol if we had it.”

Nightmares, Lan Wangji is certain, and the trauma of his experiences, perhaps his own lack of self-worth driving a need to be useful through his inventions. 

If Wei Ying is suffering today, the pain prevents him from using his normal coping mechanisms. And Lan Wangji would rather he not use drinking as one—and he suspects Wen Qing feels similarly, as jifu has brewed more fruit wine. 

Since they’re waiting for Wen Ning to return with the bathtub so the hot water can ease Wei Ying’s pain a bit before they try their musical acupuncture experiment, Wen Qing leads him to a nearby stone “table” covered in papers. They’re haphazard, scrawled half-ideas interrupted by new ones, occasional doodles, a true mess. There’s no organization even within one page, only a sort of jumble of thoughts in smeared ink. 

Lan Wangji hates the idea that his husband’s mental state could mirror those pages on his bad days. 

“He hasn’t had one of his bad days since you came,” she says, her tone approving. “You’re good for him. Yesterday was just… a lot.”

He can only nod in response; it had been difficult for him, as well, but Wei Ying had bared a secret he had not willingly told anyone, had made himself vulnerable—and at Lan Wangji’s request. Even had he not suffered the near-possession, today may have been a bad day for him regardless. 

“I’ll put together a sachet for the bath, something to relax his muscles and ease the pain,” Wen Qing says. “Let him sleep until A-Ning gets back.”

He returns to Wei Ying’s side when she leaves. He is pale and still as he sleeps, his lips parted slightly as he breathes, his breath easy and calm. The dark circles under his eyes are still prominent, and Lan Wangji hopes it is a healing sleep.

Lan Wangji spends a shichen meditating beside Wei Ying while keeping attuned to him in case his sleep is disturbed. Wen Ning returns, carrying a large bathtub already filled as though it weighs nothing, and carefully sets it down without sloshing the water over. 

“I cannot use t-talismans anymore,” the young man says, almost in apology. “Jiejie put a sachet in already. She said t-to only let him soak for a quarter shichen, then have him drink water.”

“Thank you, Wen Ning.”

He rises and bows, and Wen Ning makes a disgruntled sound. 

“Y-you shouldn’t bow t-to me, Lan-er-gongzi!”

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“You are helping my husband,” he says.

“I would help him anyway.”

“All the more reason to show you courtesy.”

Wen Ning seems to recognize Lan Wangji will not budge on this issue, and finally just nods.

“Jiejie said she would check on him in half a shichen, and to t-try the acupuncture idea.”

Lan Wangji has little choice but to accept Wen Ning’s bow before he leaves; protesting it would be hypocritical. 

After affixing a warming talisman to the tub, he turns his focus back to Wei Ying. He tries to wake him pleasantly, with soft murmurs and touches, and after a few minutes rouses him enough to explain about the tub.

Wei Ying is barely able to help when Lan Wangji undresses him, only just awake. He frowns to find bruises on his skin that hadn’t been there the night before. He hoped Wen Qing would know what had caused them.

He knows his robes will just get wet, so he strips himself to his zhong yi trousers.

He doesn’t bother trying to get Wei Ying to walk once he is undressed, just scoops him into his arms and carries him to the tub. Wei Ying lets out a soft moan as Lan Wangji lowers him into the hot water and settles him, careful to keep his braided hair out of the water. Wei Ying grabs his arm before he can completely withdraw from the water.

“Stay?” 

Lan Wangji can deny him nothing, so nods, settling beside the tub and holding Wei Ying’s hand under the water. The rising steam has an earthy mint aroma, and he hopes the bath and Wen Qing’s sachet of herbs are helping ease his pain.

“You’re always here for me,” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice distant, sleepy.

“I have not been before.”

He regrets that, seeing the pain his husband, his zhiji, has endured. He thinks perhaps it will always be a regret, having waited too long to support him. 

Wei Ying frowns at him, his eyes hazy. He draws Lan Wangji’s hand to his chest over his healed brand scar, over his heart. 

“You have. Here.”

“Wei Ying,” he breathes, overcome by the gesture. 

“Like that. I heard you, the first time. When I was here.”

Lan Wangji frowns, confused. Wei Ying’s eyes slide shut and he sighs softly.

“I thought it was the end, when they dropped me here. All that resentful energy howling at me all around, asking if I wanted revenge. I was ready to give up and just… let it end. But I heard you call my name. Your voice. I wanted to try to see you again.”

Wei Ying’s voice is barely audible at the end, and after several breaths Lan Wangji realizes he’s fallen back to sleep. He feels raw, knowing this, knowing Wei Ying tried to survive for him, to return to him, just to see him, expecting to be hated for what he had to do to survive. 

He curls closer to the tub and kisses the top of Wei Ying’s head, burying his face in his hair.

“I’m glad you did, Wei Ying,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you did.”

There is moisture in Wei Ying’s hair, and it takes a moment for Lan Wangji to realize it’s from his own tears. He has never doubted Wei Ying loves him, but the depth of his love is overwhelming, that Wei Ying refused to give up in the face of certain death for the chance to see him again. Even the spectre of Lan Wangji had comforted him in his lowest moment.

Lan Wangji simply holds his husband, as much as is possible separated by a wooden tub, and tries not to think. Tries not to wonder what might have happened had he not discovered Wei Ying’s secret, had he walked down the mountain and returned to Gusu as he had intended, had he left Wei Ying to suffer alone. Tries not to be angry with himself for having been so willing to abandon his husband for the sake of rules—what rule is worth more than Wei Ying?

Finally, he estimates it has been quarter shichen and he hooks an arm under Wei Ying’s knees, the other around his back, and lifts him out of the tub.

Wei Ying shivers in his arms, wrinkling his nose and letting out a whine at the chill of the air. Lan Wangji sets him on the embroidered blanket on the bed, wrapping him in it—the material will absorb the water, and he can hang it to dry later. Wei Ying’s features smooth over, and he stirs, murmuring his name. 

“I am here, airen. I will not leave you.”

Never again, he promises. Every time he leaves Wei Ying, terrible things happen to him. He will defend him, care for him, and keep him safe.

Wei Ying smiles sleepily at him.

“Did they get a tub for popo, too?” he asks.

Lan Wangji wants to clutch him close, this man who cares so much for others and yet so little for himself, but instead he pets his hair and leans in to kiss him softly.

“I did not ask.”

Wei Ying huffs softly, turning his head into Lan Wangji’s touch. 

“Hope they did. Bath was nice.”

He wonders if Wei Ying remembers what he said, his revelation, but he doesn’t address it. It does not need to be addressed. He knows now, and he will not forget. 

“Wen Qing added an herb sachet. How is your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Wei Ying murmurs with a soft hum.

Lan Wangji knows that could just as easily mean it is intolerable, but Wei Ying won’t admit it even if that is the case. Regardless, he must be feeling at least slightly better than before the soak—he is more present now. 

He remembers he was to have Wei Ying drink water and he pours a cup from a nearby ewer. He lifts Wei Ying into a sitting position and helps him drink, refilling the cup a couple of times until he’s sated. 

“We will attempt that musical acupuncture cultivation idea when Wen Qing comes,” he says, easing him back down. 

Wei Ying nods, but grimaces.

“Wei Ying?”

“Hate needles,” he murmurs. “That’s all.”

“I will be here with you.” 

It is all Lan Wangji can promise, but when Wei Ying smiles softly at him, he hopes perhaps it is enough.

Lan Wangji makes sure Wei Ying is dry within the blanket, then helps him into his zhong yi trousers—reluctantly, after Wei Ying looks at him through long lowered lashes and asks if it’s time for their every day. Had they had the time for it, without the threat of Wen Qing walking in on them, he wouldn’t hesitate.

He does not hesitate to kiss him breathless, to hold him close, and he hopes it is enough for now. 

He knows acupuncture will require Wei Ying to be mostly nude, so he only bothers him with the trousers for now, wrapping him back in the blanket and kissing him soundly. 

He is just finishing with the belt over his outer robe when Wen Qing enters carrying a basket.

“You look better than this morning,” she tells Wei Ying bluntly, and he laughs softly. 

“Your medicine and the herbal bath helped, Qing-jie.”

That elicits a smile from her, and she settles beside him on the bed. 

“He has bruises.”

Lan Wangji pulls back the blanket to show her, and is relieved when she only nods.

“His muscles spasmed violently when he was fighting the possession. They’ll heal, but there was damage.”

She turns to Wei Ying. 

“You made it worse for yourself, you know.”

Wei Ying looks away, frowning. 

“I didn’t know if she would hurt A-Yuan. I couldn’t risk it.”

Wen Qing’s expression softens, but she still huffs at him irritably. 

“And you wonder why he adopted you as his dad.”

She pulls a set of acupuncture needles from the basket, and if Wei Ying intended to protest her comment, he thinks better of it, eyeing the needles distrustfully. 

“I want to work on your back first,” she tells him. “Since we don’t know the effects, we’ll start slow and be careful. You need to let us know if it hurts, Wei Wuxian.”

He nods, still eying the needles. Lan Wangji helps him turn over, pooling the blanket over his lower body and tucking it around him to give him at least some warmth. He holds Wei Ying’s hand, hoping to offer comfort as Wen Qing inserts her needles.

Wen Qing stays fairly quiet as she works, simply letting them know she’s targeting muscles rather than meridians for the first stage of the experiments, hoping to determine whether a directed distribution of qi will accelerate the healing process.

“I don’t want to try the meridians just yet,” she says eventually. “It may flush out the resentful energy, and I don’t know how that would affect you. It might make you feel better, but...”

Lan Wangji thinks perhaps he understands her recalcitrance; Wei Ying has been cultivating resentful energy for so long, flushing it out could be a shock to his system. And, living in Burial Mounds, surrounded by resentful energy, it could easily just make him more vulnerable. 

He wishes he could take Wei Ying from here, take them all from here to a place less tainted by death. Perhaps that can eventually be accomplished, but for now he can do nothing. 

“I can’t lose hold of it,” Wei Ying murmurs. “Not and control the seal.”

A chill washes through Lan Wangji at the reminder of the weapon, that terrible dark tool that had won the war for the cultivation world, while making Wei Ying a target for the power-hungry. Lan Wangji knows such a tool must be hard to control—even spiritual tools can harm the user when a wielder cannot keep control. 

Wen Qing makes a face.

“I wish you’d destroy that awful thing.”

“Can’t. It’s a deterrent. And the backlash from destroying it would be pretty bad.”

Wei Ying sounds almost grieved, as though he would prefer to destroy it.

“If we could ward against the backlash?” Lan Wangji asks.

“It’s the only thing keeping us from being massacred at the moment,” Wei Ying says bitterly. “Otherwise I’d be all for it. The seal recognizes no master, and it’s too dangerous to exist.”

Lan Wangji frowns at the information, concerned. He wonders how much energy Wei Ying has been using to keep it under control—hasn’t, in fact, seen it since his arrival in Burial Mounds. He hopes his husband doesn’t carry it around with him.

Wen Qing finishes placing her needles and stands, and Lan Wangji squeezes Wei Ying’s hand before letting go to pull out his guqin. 

He decides to start with a minor healing song, something not terribly invasive, instilling his qi into the notes. Wei Ying’s breathing quickens, and Lan Wangji tries to keep his attention on the music, reminding himself that Wen Qing is the one with medical expertise, is the one monitoring. And, he notices, is directing the spiritual energy into the acupuncture needles.

“Pain?” she asks.

“No,” Wei Ying says, his voice strained. “It’s… warm. Good.”

Lan Wangji lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and turns his attention to the music, letting all his focus go to the task. Wei Ying is always cold, and he idly wonders if that’s what resentful energy feels like—cold. He remembers him shivering with fever in the cave after the battle with the Xuanwu, and wonders if that was more than fever, if perhaps that was in part the cold of the resentful energy from the sword. 

Wen Qing eventually touches his shoulder, and he stills his strings. She gestures toward Wei Ying. At a glance, he can already see the bruising has faded. He takes Wei Ying’s hand again and finds his husband is sound asleep, his face utterly relaxed. 

“I’d call that a success, at least tentatively,” Wen Qing comments.

She takes Wei Ying’s other wrist, clearly examining his meridians.

“It didn’t clear out much resentment, but that’s expected given we were targeting his muscles. It may have cleared out some of what’s seeped into his body, which would be good.”

“It’s seeped into his body?” Lan Wangji asks, trying not to be alarmed.

She nods, sighing, and begins the process of removing her needles.

“It’s damaging, of course. He doesn’t complain, but we try not to ask him to do too much. He’s probably in some level of pain constantly, and the possession made it worse. I hope this helps.”

Lan Wangji wishes he had known, but also knows there’s little he could have done if he had. Throughout the war, he had watched Wei Ying, taken in his increasingly pinched features, his tense posture, his temper. He had worried it was the resentful energy, and he finds it doesn’t make him happy to have been right. Wei Ying had felt he had to suffer it alone, and now remains quiet about his pain. Perhaps his constant pain contributes to his bad days, as well. 

He can see the difference now, how his muscles are relaxed in a way they haven’t been even when Wei Ying slept. 

“I think letting him sleep before another session is best,” Wen Qing comments as she removes the last of her needles. “It will allow us to see the impact later.”

He nods, and pulls the blanket up around Wei Ying’s shoulders, tucking it around him—even if the qi warmed him, it would be temporary.

Wen Qing placed the needles back in her basket and stood.

“If he’s up for another round in the afternoon, we’ll try it. I’ll sterilize these just in case.”

She bows, and Lan Wangji returns it as best as he can seated beside Wei Ying and holding his hand. 

“I’ll send A-Ning with lunch later. Also, I think one of the aunties will be by to fit you for clothing.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” he asks, though he’s reluctant to leave Wei Ying. 

Wen Qing quirks a smile.

“As I told you when you said you were staying, I want you to help Wei Wuxian. He needs your help more than we do.”

He nods, and she leaves, closing the curtains behind her.

Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying sleep for a long while before deciding he can perhaps help him in other ways. He leaves the alcove and returns with a sheaf of Wei Ying’s disorganized and messy notes, setting it on the table beside the bed. Within minutes he transforms the small table into a desk, fresh paper and ink ready for him to work.

At the very least, he can rewrite Wei Ying’s notes, using separate sheets of paper for the different ideas so he can work with them more easily. He has copied and rebound books for the library at Cloud Recesses, after all, and Wei Ying once complimented his calligraphy. Even now, the memory makes his ears heat, as it was very shortly followed by the porn incident. 

Of course, they’ve done what was displayed in that book multiple times, so the memory is less embarrassing and more arousing. 

With one last glance at Wei Ying peacefully slumbering next to him, he gets to work. 

[baijingshen]

@ofwindsweptpines​ cont. (x)

༺🌕༻ The night air was chill on his skin, wondering for a moment if it was really so cool out, or if the heat of frustration made the atmosphere feel stark around the collar. He held Jiang Cheng by the back of his own white, crisp training robes, marching him across the path through the pebbles, a few bouncing against his heels as the other boy staggered. The sounds of protesting voices, not daring to yell too loudly and seal themselves a fate worse than what was already in store for them, died out behind them as they rounded the corner of the guest houses, finally out of sight of Wuxian and the others who could barely keep themselves upright enough to properly argue in Jiang Cheng’s favor.

 Lan Wangji would only stop when he felt the other wrench himself from his grasp in a fit of defiance that quite honestly surprised him, turning to look at the boy who had been caught drinking with the others. Wangji had been overwhelmed by disappointment to see it, and maybe a touch of jealousy at how carefree they all seemed, laughing and rolling around on the floor together. He recalled a time many years ago when Jiang Fengmian had visited with his son, the self-same boy who had just wrested himself from his grip, and Zhan had watched Cheng spend tireless hours rolling around on the ground with the boy’s newest puppy — a gift from his father and a companion during his trip. Cheng had invited him to play, and they had enjoyed nearly a week of one another’s company, chatting, teaching the pup amusing tricks, and becoming fast friends where Wangji had sorely lacked in them. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to think that Jiang Cheng would return to him after so many years, still that bright-eyed, excitable boy, accompanied by a beautiful, majestic, well-trained dog at his side instead of a cocksure young upstart of a brother. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to think they would still be friends even now.

 He’d realized just how foolish when he’d gone to Cheng’s room to greet him properly after nearly a fortnight of barely having spoken a word — he was always flanked by the other boys, and that head-strong, showboating adopted brother of his, and when Wuxian wasn’t hanging himself on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders he was tormenting Wangji and disrupting his studies. It seemed that Cheng was of a different mind now, making trouble for himself and others, and had no time for old, fleeting friendships.

 Wangji had been about to grasp for Cheng’s wrist when the other jerked away, his expression not one of debauched sheepishness, or shame as was most often the case with disciples that were taken to be punished, but anger — real, unbridled anger. Jiang Cheng’s cheeks were flushed as he began to rant, piecing Wangji apart with his accusations of false friendship and empty promises. He lamented over piles of letters sent and received between them over the years that he’d thought spoke more of their friendship than whatever this was. He expressed his frustration at Wuxian and how the boy never let him get a word in edgewise, doomed to live in his brother’s shadow. He declared that coming here had been one big dumb mistake.

 Wangji got the uncanny sense that he was staring into a mirror, hearing all the same words that echoed in his head repeated to him nearly verbatim despite seeing another’s face looking back at him. Could it be that this whole time Jiang Cheng had been trying just as hard to reconnect with him as Wangji had the other? Had they both been played as utter fools, marionette’d around by Wei Wuxian who pulled the strings, ringmaster in all situations? Jiang Cheng had said nothing of his brother’s pervasiveness in his letters, only speaking favorably of him when he said anything at all — perhaps not wishing to upset his parents if either of them read the letters prior to sending. How could Wangji have known the other felt such a way, stifled and ineffectual, backed into a corner? Pressured to play along or be cast out?

 The boy’s voice carried through the empty courtyard, and Wangji considered silencing him for a moment but thought that would be in poor taste considering all the other had expressed with such earnest fervor. He would have to quiet him somehow or one of the elders would learn of the boys late-night transgressions soon enough. On a whim he grasped the front of Cheng’s robes, feeling them go taut as the boy started to take a step back, but Wangji yanked him up mid-step, teetering him off balance as lips pressed firm yet softly against the boy’s own, not relenting until he felt the heated diatribe die on his tongue.

 Jiang Cheng tasted of heady wine, and for a moment Lan Wangji’s head swam with the giddiness of second-hand intoxication, imagining for a moment that this was what it might feel like to have been laughing there on the floor with the rest of them, wine thick on his lips. But then he remembered that he himself had broken a very real rule of his own: no promiscuity was permitted in Cloud Recesses.

 His lips broke from Jiang Cheng’s quickly, gazing down into his eyes with a breathless pause before feeling the need to explain everything away.

 “I’m sorry, you were getting loud. Your punishment would have been worse had I let you…-” he trailed off sheepishly before repositioning to explain things properly. “I tried to come and talk to you. Many times. It was never right,”  hand unwinding from the front of the other’s robes and letting the male regain his footing. ༺🌕༻

          For days he’d waited for a chance to talk to Lan Wangji, to finally have a moment of peace for just the two of them to exchange a proper hello and ideally a few words. Torturous days filled with rather dry lectures and growing frustration over Wei Wuxian’s misbehavior and the resulting dent in the reputation of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, as well as the exponentially growing impression that Lan Wangji was just as DISINTERESTED in engaging further with either one of them as his uncle. It felt like something was taken from Jiang Cheng that he cherished like a treasure and all he could do was stand there and watch it slip through his fingers helpless to stop it.

For days he waited, and now that Lan Wangji was finally here it was this evening of all evenings and Jiang Cheng was drunk and making the worst possible impression he could. Not to mention that, judging by the way he was dragging him away like a misbehaved child, Wangji clearly intended to hold him fully responsible for Wei Wuxian’s shenanigans - which Jiang Cheng didn’t fully want to absolve himself from, but refused to take the fall for on his own. It was his mistake for participating, but it was his brother’s fault for getting them into this mess in the first place; and with that RIGHTEOUS ANGER Jiang Cheng tried to pull himself free from Lan Wangji’s grasp, a string of complaints immediately coming over his lips in a volume that held no regard for the late hour.

He spoke in a rush, fueled by his disappointment and seemingly endless frustration that had been boiling inside him ever since they came to Gusu and now finally found an outlet. He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to and said things he would surely regret later on, but the alcohol in his system and the raw feeling in his chest put there by Wangji’s presence shattered all his remaining inhibitions. There was more he wanted to say, more he struggled to express, more he finally wanted to have off his chest - but his words were cut short and just like that all that anger and frustration melted away under the warmth of Lan Wangji’s lips.

The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as Jiang Cheng wanted it to but it still left him a MESS. Heart hammering in his chest, head void of all thoughts besides the memory of Wangji’s lips against his he couldn’t do anything except stare for a few moments. Wangji was talking, apologizing, explaining, but all Jiang Cheng could think was please do that again. As the reality of what just happened slowly seeped into his brain his cheeks turned hot, taking on a faint pink shade. Lan Wangji had not forgotten about him. Lan Wangji did not hate him. Lan Wangji had wanted to see him as much as the other way around.

LAN WANGJI HAD JUST KISSED HIM.

     “I.. thought you.. don’t want to see me,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice a lot quieter then. He fought the urge to reach up and touch his lips, the kiss still tingling on them even while it started feeling more like a dream with every passing minute.      “I’m...” Ironically now that he was given the chance, Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say, too stunned by the sudden turn of events. “I.. hoped we’re still FRIENDS..”

[baoshan-sanren]

Part 19

to the fucking NieLan arranged marriage AU I can’t stop thinking about - I’m really temped to name this “How To Communicate With Your Husband: A Narrative in Many Parts by Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue”

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 here | pt.4 here | pt.5 here | pt.6 here | pt.7 here | pt.8 here | pt.9 here | pt.10 here | pt.11 here | pt.12 here | pt.13 here | pt.14 here | pt.15 here | pt.16 here | pt.17 here | pt.18 here

In the end, the official Conference is postponed for five days.

XiChen understands the reasoning behind the decision. The sects and clans that had participated in the Sunshot Campaign are determined to have a voice in something that will affect them all for decades to come. It will take time for them to gather, and it will take time for the next Chief Cultivator to be chosen. But this also means that XiChen must choose between remaining in the Nightless City for five days, at his husband’s side, or leaving for QingHe on his own.

MingJue cannot leave. Although he has made it clear that he will not take Wen RuoHan’s place, he seems to have been designated Chief Cultivator in the interim. Suddenly, no decision can be made without him, no meeting held, no task delegated. He is constantly sought after, every hour of the day, and XiChen finds himself both pleased and irritable in equal measure. His husband is a natural leader; he allows no nonsense or sect politics to influence his decisions, and it is exhilarating to watch him plow over Jin GuangShan’s veiled suggestions, Madam Yu’s blunt disrespect, and even Jiang FengMian’s patient monologues. At the same time, XiChen is no longer satisfied with a rushed kiss in the middle of the day, or the few careful ones late in the night, long after he has drifted off to sleep. Although his face heats each time he thinks of it, he wants to be back in the Unclean Realm, in his own marriage bed, with his husband at his disposal. He cannot bear the idea of being apart from MingJue again, so soon after everything that had taken place, and the thought of returning home on his own, of having to wait days to see him again, is too unsettling to even consider.

His desire to remain in close proximity to his husband is far outweighed by his urge to be far away from Wen RuoHan’s gaudy carpets, and gold wall hangings, and red linens; he decides to stay, already certain that he will hate every moment of the five days to come. On the second day however, respite comes from an unlikely source. The remainder of the Nie Sect left behind at QingHe arrives at the Nightless City gates, HuaiSang and MeiLing at their head.

They have arrived to fight, as the last message carried to QingHe had given them no certainty of victory, but all except MeiLing seem relieved to find the battle long over. XiChen is amazed but unsurprised that MeiLing has a full set of armor that is her own, a set that looks ancient and well-used. She does not discard it on her arrival, nor does she discard her saber, a heavy blade far more intimidating than any XiChen has seen so far. Instead, she barrels through the Nightless City with her brothers at her shoulders, determined to battle something after having traveled all the way from QingHe, and easily finds other things to beat into submission.

A-Sang seems slightly more subdued than he had been the last time XiChen had seen him, but his bright chatter and nonsensical observations remain unchanged. He inspects the chambers MingJue and XiChen had chosen to remain in for the next five days, and then, without a pause in some story XiChen is only half-listening to, he begins to alter the space in ways XiChen would have never thought of on his own. The Nie Sect servants are ordered to move the tea table close to the window, another is tasked with stripping the tapestries from the walls, two more are sent running to look for any cloth that is not crimson or gold. In a matter of hours, the space no longer seems as unbearable as it was, and XiChen feels overwhelmed with gratitude. He is not ashamed to admit that he tears up a little bit then, while A-Sang flutters uselessly around him, and sends more servants for another pot of tea and snacks. Afterwards, they sit in silence, and even the Nightless City suffocating breeze feels a little less oppressive.

The next day, the elders of the Lan Sect arrive, and XiChen is forced into numerous discussions that hold no interest. He understands that this is an important decision, and he is not exactly ambivalent about the choice of the next Chief Cultivator. Jin GuangShan has been playing his games, and sowing his whispers among the other sect leaders, trying to secure support even while the dead bodies were being dragged out of Wen RuoHan’s receiving hall. XiChen is very much invested in Jin GuangShan not becoming the next Chief Cultivator. But he is not ashamed to admit that he is invested in little else, and finds himself often nodding along with whatever the elders suggest, daydreaming about the next moment he and MingJue may have to themselves.

For once in his life, WangJi seems to have a better handle on the situation as a whole. He attends every meeting, voices his dissent without remorse, and continuously shows himself be just and honorable in his opinions. At the same time, Young Master Wei can often be seen rushing down the halls with a smile that could rival the sun, his robes ruffled and his hair tangled, obvious bite marks gracing his neck. XiChen is not exactly jealous of his brother, but he thinks it terribly ironic, that WangJi has so easily found the right balance, when XiChen still seems to be struggling with his own.

--

He does not sleep well.

Some of it is the simple inability to shift around any way he would like, without pain, without having to consciously consider how his body is positioned. He falls asleep easily, but wakes often, and each time he does, it is a little more difficult to drift back under. After three nights of this, he is exhausted by the process. MingJue had come to bed late, as he had every night since the City had fallen. XiChen had been drifting between the thin layer of sleep and deeper dreams, and he vaguely remembers lips brushing over his temple, and a sweet rush of warmth in his chest. Now, MingJue is sleeping peacefully, body curved towards XiChen’s side of the bed.

It is difficult to guess the hour in the darkness, but XiChen thinks the dawn is not too far off. He moves silently around the chambers, foregoing the trappings of propriety and status. There is no hair ornament that does not seem too heavy to bear this morning, and the clothes laid out the night before are too time consuming for his tired fingers. There is a restlessness under his skin again, one that cannot bear the idea of sitting still until the sun rises. Tying his hair off loosely with a ribbon, he shrugs on MingJue’s coat instead, and steps out into the hallway.

He has no set destination, allowing his feet to take him where they will. The palace is silent at this time of the morning, and XiChen meets no one except an occasional guard on the night duty, bowing silently before moving on. It is hard to believe, when faced with empty cavernous halls and deserted courtyards, that almost every sect and clan leader in the cultivation world is already somewhere within the palace walls. The Jin Sect Elders are still due to arrive; another handful of clan leaders who had been stationed far in the southeast, are only now crossing YiLing on their way to QiShan. But even without them, in the daylight hours, the Nightless City already feels as if it is bursting at the seams, loud, and crowded, and stifling. At this very moment, however, empty of noise, stripped of all its garish ornaments, and exposed down to its bare structural bones, XiChen thinks it does not looks so different from the Unclean Realm.

He wonders what it must feel like to Wen Qing, trapped in a place she had escaped once already, seeing the emblems of her former sect so casually tossed aside. As a child, he had loved stories of battles of wars, of empires raising and falling. But he had never thought he would see an entire sect be erased from existence in his own lifetime. He has little pity for Wen RuoHan or those who had followed him blindly, but sometimes he thinks that the cure can cause more pain more than the ailment had, just as Wen Qing’s salve had done on his injured back.  

Mind preoccupied with Wen Qing, he finds that his feet had taken him to the south side of the palace, where she had taken the former healer’s chambers as her own. He has no intention of disturbing her. The south courtyard is not nearly as overwhelming as the others, and he thinks he may even settle under the tung trees for some time, and wait for the sun to rise. But the main chamber, where she had set countless bones and wrapped more than one injured limb in the last few days, is wide open and lit up brightly. She is sitting at the work bench, head bent over a a book, another two dozen precariously stacked at her right shoulder. She seems to sense him rather than hear him. Although he had considered simply continuing on, he cannot do so now that she had seen him.

“Is your back giving you pain?” she asks immediately, and he has to smile, that this is the first thing on her mind.

“No more than usual. Sleep is difficult, but the pain is bearable.”

Her expression clearly says that she does not think he is being truthful, and she rises from her seat, moving to slide the door closed.

“Let me see.”

He strips down to the waist easily, as he is only wearing two layers, the outer one quite a bit larger than his own tends to be. Her fingers are careful even as they press here and there, searching for something only she can see.

“It is healing well,” she says after a while, “I believe it may be time to start treatment to minimize scarring.”

While she is riffling through the shelves, he shrugs his his robe back on, and tries to find the right words for the questions that have been chasing back and forth across his mind.

In the end, he has nothing more eloquent than: “Have you been well?”

“I have been busy,” she says, without looking up from the small jars lined up on the counter, “Many of the sect ladies want to be of use, but know nothing of medicine, and are incapable of taking instruction.”

She pauses, then adds somewhat begrudgingly, “The Sect Leader Jiang’s daughter is ... adequate.”

XiChen does not know Jiang YanLi well, and can only vaguely picture her face. He knows she is here, in the Nightless City, but has not seen her yet, and every attempt to remember their last meeting only brings about an impression of a sweet smile.

Wen Qing brings him two jars of ointment, one thick and white in color, and the other slick and clear.

“This one is for your back,” she says, tapping the white one, “twice a day, once in the morning, and once in the evening. If Sect Leader Nie is too preoccupied for the task, I will find the time. It will not eliminate the scarring, but it should decrease the worst of it.”

XiChen is still flustered at the insinuation that MingJue should be the one to apply it, when she moves on smoothly to the next jar, “I highly doubt either one of you came to the Nightless City prepared to stay, or to engage in more intimate activities. I know many of the others have not, as I have given out nearly twenty of these in three days. The supply is already low, so use it sparingly. And I do not think I need to tell you to be careful of your injury.”

XiChen feels his face light on fire, and fumbles the jar, nearly dropping it on the floor.

“I-- this is-- not necessary.”

She is already walking back to her workbench, unruffled by his embarrassment, “No? Keep it regardless. Wen RuoHan had always insisted on the best quality medicine that can be produced, even in this-- particular area. I will wager you will not find one of equal value in QingHe.”

Face burning so brightly that even his eyes feel hot, XiChen quickly tucks away the jars into the pockets of the coat, determined to go no further with this conversation. Still, it takes him a few moments to gather his wits, and stop the unwelcome suggestions his mind insists on providing, of every possible way the ointment could be used.

He clears his throat, “Is-- is your brother adjusting well?”

“As well as can be expected,” she says, eyes back on the book, “Considering he has to live with having killed his Sect Leader without reaping any of the benefits. If such an act can be said to have benefits.”

XiChen is not quite sure how to respond to such a statement. He had thought himself hardened to blunt speech after having lived in the Unclean Realm for months, but Wen Qing still manages to throw him off balance.

“It was kind of Sect Leader Nie to have Nie ZhongHui take my brother under his protection,” she says after a moment, looking up, “Do thank him for this consideration, as I have not had a chance to speak to him yet.”

“Of course,” XiChen says, although he is not aware of any such thing.

He does remember seeing Wen Ning by Nie ZhongHui’s side more than once, but had not given it much thought. She says nothing else however, looking as if she means to continue with her work, and would prefer to do so undisturbed.

He bows, “Thank you, Healer Nie. I will take my leave.”

She snorts at the title, but tilts her head in acknowledgment.

XiChen feels the jar of ointment burning in the pocket all the way back to his chambers.

[briapia95]

Wangxian arranged marriage AU - part 3

part 1 - part 2  - [master post]

----

If their wedding had not been a joyous event, their wedding night was a disaster in the making. Wei Wuxian’s sobs eventually stopped after a few moments, but he never quite regained control over the shakes his body would make every once in a while. Lan Wangji wasn’t even sure the other man was entirely aware of it.

It made something inside him twist viciously, and he was almost relieved that banquets, even for the wedding of the second heir, weren't long by tradition. By the moment both he and Wei Wuxian were expected to leave, only the longstanding decorum that has been installed on Wangji since he was a toddler allowed him to not just run outside the banquet hall and straight into the Jingshi.

“It’s time,” Lan Wangji spoke softly to his husband, noting how the other man froze in the spot.  

Even when he slowly stood up he could tell Wei Wuxian was hesitant to follow his cue, he could understand the sentiment, yet still, a small thought of annoyance at the other man’s inaction came suddenly to him, right before it was swiftly replaced by guilt once again. If he had been reluctant to marry before, Wei Wuxian must have been abhorring every single second of the day ever since the… incident.

“I’ll just-” Wei Wuxian abruptly stopped whatever he was going to say.

Not for the first time today Lan Wangji wished the other had not chosen a veil. He was obviously not adept at reading Wei Wuxian’s facial expressions, but anything was better than not knowing at all what the other might be feeling at the moment, where he was looking, maybe if only to get that person’s help.

“Nevermind,” Wei Wuxian finally murmured, “lead the way, second young master.”

As they parted towards the Jingshi, followed by a few other disciples, Lan Wangji noticed how closed off and stiff Wei Wuxian seemed to appear the more they approached their quarters. Wangji would never admit it out loud but it took him an exorbitant amount of time to realize why Wei Wuxian was acting like this.

The moment he did it it felt as if the small amount of food he managed to consume turned into stones inside him. For the second time, he almost turned around to run, now away from the Jingshi. Chastising himself about how could he forget the reason there was an entourage from both sects behind them.

He and Wei Wuxian were supposed to consummate their marriage.

He felt his lips press together as anger, fear and confusion invaded him. He couldn’t- wouldn’t do this.  

The moment both of them entered the Jingshi, Lan Wangji closed the doors with what might have been more force than necessary, for the first time he did not care, emotions too overwhelming to spare a consideration about what the disciples following might have thought about that. Turning around he was faced with Wei Wuxian standing in the middle of the dimly lit room, still as a statue yet his posture was a clear indication that he was trying to make himself smaller.  

It managed to unsettle him even more, moving his gaze to take a look around their quarters. Noticing how the candles had been clearly placed around every space in the room to encompass an intimate atmosphere, fitting for the first night of a newlywed couple sharing a room, not them though. It made him want to vomit, throw talismans around until they could be standing in the dark.

Lan Wangji couldn’t allow this. He might have tried to push Wei Wuxian away, telling himself he only felt irritation towards his intended, he might have been distant and not allowed the other man to breach the gap he created between them until it was too late, but he would never, not even once, take advantage of Wei Wuxian.

He decisively strode until he was in front of the other man. “Wei Wu-”

“Second young master Lan,” Wei Wuxian interrupted, voice small and quivering, “I have been informed of the many precepts your sect follows regarding the consummation of a marriage,” taking a shuddering breath Wei Wuxian continued, “I am well aware of those precepts, and how second young master Lan is a dutiful, filial disciple,”

It broke something in Lan Wangji the moment the other one bowed, veil falling to his trembling shoulders, “yet if I could have this small request granted, I would wish for us not to partake in the act of consummation until much further in the future.” Wei Wuxian finished, not raising from his bow.

He was left once again speechless in front of Wei Wuxian. Hurtful thoughts mingling together making it almost impossible for Wangji to string a cohesive sentence. But he needed to reply to this. Anything, just one word would suffice to make the trembling in Wei Wuxian’s body stop.

He wanted to reassure Wei Wuxian that he would never touch him, not ever. That he need not worry, that they could arrange for a different location for him to live after this first night. So many thoughts that once again he was not able to vocalize. “All right,” he finally managed, a whisper so low that he was sure Wei Wuxian must have been straining himself in order to be able to hear it.

Nonetheless, the other man quickly straightened himself, a flash of relief passing through his face rapidly scolded into a neutral expression the moment Wei Wuxian must have realized he didn’t have his veil on anymore. Lan Wangji looked down, comfort dampened by the notion that Wei Wuxian was still holding himself so much, even for something like this.

Still, the small “thank you,” that left Wei Wuxian’s lips was enough to calm him somewhat.

There was still the bed problem, he thought as he glanced towards it. It was big enough to fit two people, yet Wangji was sure that after the emotional turmoil that both have gone through today, neither would be inclined to share the space.

He was beaten to it once again, “I can take the floor, second young master.”

“There is no need for it,” Lan Wangji replied immediately, for once words aiding him, “take the bed, I can meditate tonight.”

“But I’m sure second young master Lan is tired, I do not wish to bother him in this matter.” Wei Wuxian replied almost stubbornly.

It could almost make Lan Wangji smile, glad that even after all this mess at least Wei Wuxian spirit hadn’t been completely destroyed.

“It’s no bother,” he paused, maybe if he distracted Wei Wuxian, his mind supplied.

Then, remembering something after a few seconds, “and I’ve already told you before, there is no need for you to call me second young master Lan. Call me Lan Wangji.”

“I could not presume to be improper,” Wei Wuxian replied.

“I would hardly call it improper for my husband to call me by my courtesy name,” Wangji saw how Wei Wuxian pressed his lips together at that last remark, maybe reminding him of the fact that they were now married had not been the best course of action. He needed to remedy this now.

“Regardless… I- I wish for you to call me that,” he took a deep breath and hoped beyond belief that it was enough for at least tonight, “if it’s not something that troubles you.”

A few moments passed where Wei Wuxian studied him. He did the same, noting the trails of what must have been dry tears running down Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. A memory of that day a month ago flashing thought Lan Wangji’s mind, a reminder that he had been unable to reach after Wei Wuxian when he broke down sobbing.

He was glad it had not happened today, maybe the encounter with his siblings had avoided something worse.  

Wei Wuxian nodded, and for the second time tonight something loose inside Wangji. “It’s late, we should prepare for sleep. You take the bed.”

“Wait, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian stood right in front of him. He still looked somewhat uncertain, but he steeled himself and kept talking, “I understand this is not ideal, but I really don't want you to take the floor. It’s been a long day, let’s just share the bed. At least that way if some attendant were to enter tomorrow, no doubt could arise about the validity of the marriage.”

It made him uncomfortable to a certain degree, but he could not dispute Wei Wuxian’s logic. Even if he hated it, it could risk the entire arrangement If it was discovered that the act of consummation did not take place.

He nodded slowly, “you can bathe if you wish,” he spoke as he signaled towards one of the privacy screens placed in the rooms, he walked towards one of the trunks looking for spar robes that he then gave to Wei Wuxian once he returned to the main area, “I’ll be waiting here for when you are ready.”

The other man took the offered clothing, a small nod before he walked to the privacy screen.

“Lan Wangji. Thank you.” Wei Wuxian said just before he completely disappeared behind it.

“There is no need,” was what left his lips.

It surprised Wangji, the amount of truth behind the words he had just uttered.  

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3

It’s wedding day y’all!

Nie Huaisang looked radiant in his wedding robes, and even before the three bows had taken place, he told at least a dozen people that he refused to wear any colour but red from then on. In fact, anyone who dared approach him and Lan Wangji was sure to get asked what they thought of that idea, and whether they agreed or not that red was the perfect colour to compliment his complexion. He only stopped when he brother told him it was time for the bows, but even then he looked ready to chatter down anyone who’d so much as look him the wrong way.

They took the first bow, to heaven and earth. It was torture on Lan Wangji’s still healing back, but he had refused to take any drugs. This was a dangerous day in more than one way, and he needed to have his wits.

The second bow, to their parents. It struck Lan Wangji for the first time that neither of them had parents anymore. He wondered what his would have thought of this sham of a marriage. His father might have been relieved to see his sons were more willing to bend to rules and decorum than he had been. His mother… he did not think she would have liked this, although she probably would not have had the power to stop it.

The third bow, to each other. At that point Lan Wangji’s back was sending him in agony, though he was careful not to show it. The other pain, in his heart, was harder to contain. He couldn’t help trying to imagine Wei Wuxian next to him, dressed in red. He would have been breathtaking. He always was. Lan Wangji’s heart would have clenched just as painfully as it did then, but for entirely different reasons.

When they stood up again, congratulations rained upon them. Lan Wangji did his best to accept them, but his mind was elsewhere. Thankfully Lan Xichen appeared to understand and quickly passed A-Yuan back to him. It was more strain on his body, but Lan Wangji felt himself relax instantly. He had done what they’d asked of him. A-Yuan was his now. They could not take him away again.

Of course, the presence of a child in his arms immediately caught the attention of their guests. It had been formally announced that he had a son, but not where the child came from. Lying was forbidden, but the truth was impossible to share. So without surprise, people who approached to congratulate him on his wedding tried to ask about A-Yuan. Some were even bold enough to directly address the little boy, who was starting to get overwhelmed by the crowd after so long alone in the Jingshi.

“Well just look at him, he has my eyes of course!” Nie Huaisang would say, laughing at the invasive questions. “Why do you think we had to get married so fast? You know my secret now, I’m a fallen woman, and yet Hanguang-Jun was kind enough to do the honourable thing!”

That sort of nonsense got the smaller man quite a few irritated glare, but he never relented and kept chattering on with a bright smile. It never took long for people to realise that they would not get a single word out of Lan Wangji has long as that little fool was next to him, and they moved on, waiting for a better chance. Nie Huaisang appeared to be having the time of his life, and he pretended not to notice the angry looks Nie Mingjue kept throwing his way, nor Lan Xichen’s disappointed ones.

In truth, the whole thing was going better than Lan Wangji would have expected. Nie Huaisang hadn’t made empty promises when he had offered to make sure nobody would bother Lan Wangji.

He still felt his whole body go rigid with rage when Jiang Cheng came to them to offer his congratulations. It had to be done, Yunmeng Jiang was too important a sect, it would have been noticed and discussed if its leader did not talk to the newlyweds. Lan Wangji had tried to steel himself for that moment, but being so near to the man everyone said had dealt the fatal blow to Wei Wuxian, the one who had led the assault into the Burial Mounds because he’d been the only one to have visited them before, that was...

“Ah, Jiang Cheng, what a tragedy this day must be for you!” Nie Huaisang sighed with a needlessly dramatic hand gesture. “But you had your chance, and you let it pass.”

Jiang Cheng, who had been glaring at Lan Wangji with no less hatred than Lan Wangji felt for him, turned to look at the other groom.

“What nonsense are you on about this time?” he barked.

“You and me, me and you… Jiang Cheng, I remember our days as students here, the tension… I’m sorry that it couldn’t be,” Nie Huaisang bemoaned. “I was always too handsome for you. It’s better that we stayed friends. Although, if I divorce this husband someday, I might be willing to give you a chance. I’m sure I’d look very fetching in purple, don’t you agree?”

“You!” Jiang Cheng exploded. “This is your wedding and you’re speaking of divorce?”

“Not so loud!” Nie Huaisang complained, taking the liberty of leaning against Lan Wangji’s side, who elected to allow it. “My husband might hear you! I’m sorry Jiang Cheng, don’t insist, it’s just not meant to be. But I promise I’ll always think of you fondly, for all that we could have had.”

At those shameless words, Jiang Cheng’s face turned a very amusing shade of purple that nearly matched his robes.

“As if anyone would marry you if they had a choice!” Jiang Cheng spat before striding away.

Nie Huaisang laughed again, apparently untouched by the insult. He had accomplished his goal anyway: after this, no one else came near them for fear of having to deal with his idiotic ramblings. Once, when he was younger, Lan Wangji would have felt humiliated that he’d now be associated in everyone’s mind with such a foolish man, no matter how fake the foolishness. Instead, he now felt grateful to Nie Huaisang. If he’d had to speak to any of these people, he’d have lost his calm and made a far worse scene than this.

The rest of the wedding passed more quietly. At the feast, Lan Wangji was happy to sit with his son on his lap, feeding him anything that A-Yuan pointed at. The little boy was always so happy to try new foods, although he struggled with not gorging himself on it. Things had not been easy in the Burial Mounds. Hopefully, over time, A-Yuan would forget what it had once felt like to not always have enough to eat.

Then, at last, Lan Xichen came to tell them that it would be acceptable for them to leave the feast if they desired. He offered to keep A-Yuan with him for the night if they wished for privacy. Lan Wangji firmly refused, while Nie Huaisang laughed once again, as he had done all day.

The three of them retired to the Jingshi, and away from those people who had murdered his beloved and the family Wei Wuxian had chosen for himself, Lan Wangji finally breathed again.

It was unpleasant to prepare for the night with a stranger in the house, but Lan Wangji managed. He only had to keep his focus on A-Yuan, half asleep already. But the time the child was ready for sleep, Nie Huaisang had already climbed into the second bed brought earlier into the Jingshi, and he had turned to face the wall to give his new husband privacy. Soon enough Lan Wangji laid down as well, holding his son close. 

Lan Wangji was drifting off to sleep when a soft, muffled sound brought him back to full awareness. He thought at first that it was A-Yuan, crying in his sleep. It happened sometimes. The little boy never seemed to remember when he awoke, but he suffered from intense nightmares. Thankfully, it was not the case that night. A-Yuan was peacefully curled up, his eyes perfectly dry. If anything, he had a faint smile on his lips. For him, the day had been a little intense but fun. Perhaps Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong about A-Yuan needing to be around other people.

A louder sob caught Lan Wangji’s attention. It could not be coming from A-Yuan, and there was no one else in the Jingshi except…

His eyes went to the other bed across the room. Nie Huaisang had wrapped himself in his blanket so tightly that not a piece of him was visible. If Lan Wangji looked closely, he could see that bundle of fabric shaking slightly from time to time, the way a person’s frame might if they were trying to contain their tears and failing.

With how cheerful he had been since they’d first become engaged, Lan Wangji had assumed that Nie Huaisang did not mind being thrown into a political match. He had said here and there that it wasn’t the situation he would have preferred, but his manners had been so flippant that Lan Wangji had not taken those remarks seriously. 

It reminded him of Wei Wuxian, joking and laughing even when something was so clearly wrong with him after the Sunshot Campaign.

It was not something he wanted to be reminded of.

Lan Wangji hesitated on how to react to this situation. To be crying so heavily, Nie Huaisang must have been truly distressed, and the only logical cause for that distress was their wedding. Even if he had been someone well equipped for comforting others, which he was not, Lan Wangji did not think his help would be appreciated. If Nie Huaisang had wanted him to know how unhappy the match made him, he would have said so. Since he had waited until he had thought Lan Wangji was asleep to start crying, he must have hoped to keep this a secret.

It would be better to respect that decision, Lan Wangji decided, at least for the time being. Even someone like Nie Huaisang must have had his pride.

He thought of his mother, and wondered if she too had cried after her wedding. She would not have had anyone to turn to, save the man who had forced her into a union everyone said she never wanted. 

The situation was different of course, but Lan Wangji still felt a bitter taste at that comparison. He would not be like his father. 

In the morning, he would speak to Nie Huaisang. 

Lan Wangji was the first to wake, before the bell calling for it. He rose from his bed to take medicine for the pain in his back, glad that he could afford himself that luxury. The previous day had been extremely unpleasant on that regard as well. 

With this taken care of, Lan Wangji started working on making A-Yuan wake up. Only when the child sat up did he realise that after such an exhausting day, he probably should have been allowed to sleep in a little longer. Habits were hard to break. 

Just as he was wondering what to do about Nie Huaisang, A-Yuan took the problem in his own hands but jumping down from his father's bed and onto the other man's. Poor Nie Huaisang was startled awake, and groaned desperately at the golden light filtering through the window. 

"Oh, that'll take some getting used to," he lamented. "This is an hour for going to bed, not for waking up! I'm going to die within a month of this." 

Lan Wangji did not comment on this, nor did he point out that Nie Huaisang should have not only woken up, but also left his bed and started getting ready for the day. The marriage contract stated that since they would live in Cloud Recessed, Nie Huaisang would naturally have to follow the rules of Gusu Lan. It would have to be obeyed in public, but Lan Wangji thought that in the privacy of their home, he would allow some exception. 

The Jingshi had been a prison before, it did not need to be one again. 

And so he let Nie Huaisang and A-Yuan linger in bed, the two of them playing some game that provoked a great amount of laughter. In the meanwhile Lan Wangji took the chance to meditate, until a knock on the door announced that breakfast had been brought to them. They ate that in silence, although Nie Huaisang’s grimaces at the plain food said more than a thousand speeches. 

Then, as Nie Huaisang and A-Yuan put away the traces of their meal, Lan Wangji remembered the events of the night, and his decision not to let them go unchecked. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, earning a surprised look from the other man who soon turned it into a smile. 

“Like a baby,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Which means I woke up a few times during the night. Why is the mattress so damn hard? I’ve laid down on rocks that were more comfortable than that! I’ll have to order a proper, soft, comfortable mattress from Gusu. I’ll go mad if I have to sleep like this for more than a week!”

Now that Lan Wangji could think of looking for it, it seemed to him that there was something not quite right with Nie Huaisang’s smile. It almost did not look forced, but it couldn’t manage to come off as fully sincere either. 

He must have stared too much. Nie Huaisang frowned for a moment under his gaze, before once more turning his full attention to A-Yuan who was trying to dress on his own. When the little boy was ready, Nie Huaisang suggested that it was high time they try out that kite he had gifted A-Yuan weeks earlier. Lan Wangji hesitated, still tired from the previous day, but his son’s hopeful grin convinced him. He could deal with a little more pain if it made A-Yuan happy.

“Then A-Yuan should go get that kite while we grown-ups finish getting ready,” Nie Huaisang told the child. “Oh, we’re going to have such a great day!”

A-Yuan nodded with great cheer, clearly delighted to be leaving the house two days in a row, and scampered off.

"You heard me last night, didn't you?" Nie Huaisang asked, still somehow smiling but refusing to look away from the direction A-Yuan had run off to. "Sorry about that. It's my first time getting married, of course I was a little emotional. Don't worry, I'll make sure not to bother you again."

"You can." 

Nie Huaisang’s smile, already so forced, wavered. 

"I understand," Lan Wangji insisted. "You did not want this either. You can pretend outside, but here you shouldn't have to. We can be honest with each other." 

His husband's smile dropped entirely. Nie Huaisang turned to face him and quickly nodded, as if relieved that he was allowed to forgo his little comedy. 

Of course the instant A-Yuan returned with his kite, Nie Huaisang was smiling again, as brightly as if he'd never had a sad thought in his life. Lan Wangji did not call him out on that, and instead tried to also feel some joy about their outing, to avoid spoiling his son's happiness.

[bettydice]

(Planning the Day) To Meet You

Wangxian, Modern AU, Slow Burn, E-Rated

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter 4

Tuesday, Eleventh Day with…

Wei Wuxian does not come.

Lan Wangji keeps looking at the pathway between the bookshelves, hoping to see a messy bun and a blinding smile.

What if Wei Wuxian has decided that he has no interest in going to the library to read random books anymore? What if something happened to him? What if anything happened to A-Yuan or Wen Ning? What if he moved to a foreign country? What if he never sees him again?

Lan Wangji curses himself that he’s declined Wei Wuxian’s offer to exchange phone numbers.

( “We’re friends now, Lan Zhan! What if I need to contact you?”

“No reason for Wei Wuxian to contact me.”

“What if I get offered one million Yuan on the street but I can only have it if I sign something and I don’t have a pen and Lan Zhan is the only person I know who carries pens???”

“No reason for Wei Wuxian to contact me. Don’t sign things on the street. Scam.” )

If only Wei Wuxian had asked him again a few days later. But he didn’t. And Lan Wangji didn’t ask, because he’s never asked Wei Wuxian anything, hasn’t he. He has not asked, nor has he shared anything about himself. Nobody would know to tell him anything because Lan Wangji is nothing to Wei Wuxian.

He waits through lunch and into the afternoon. He could… he could call Nie Huaisang. Wei Wuxian is a real person and not a figment of his mind and he knows people Lan Wangji knows (this still sounds surreal to him, because Lan Wangji barely knows any people). He could call and ask. And Nie Huaisaing would ask him questions back, he’s sure.

Lan Wangji stares at his phone for twenty minutes, willing it to give him an answer, to make a decision for him. When it suddenly lights up, because someone is calling him, he almost throws the phone across the room in shock.

Nie Huaisang is calling him.

“Huaisang.”

“Hellooooooooo, Wangji.”

This does not bode well.

“... Hello.”

“Mhm, you must be wondering why I’m calling you, why I went through all the effort even though I know I won’t get more than single word answers that are brimming with the sentiment that I should please just hang up and text you whatever information I have, so you can leave me on ‘read’ for months.”

Lan Wangji really wants to hang up, but there are bigger issues at play here, so he’ll have to suffer through this.

“Why did you call?”

“Are you really just going to ignore what I said?”

“Mn.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I expected. Anyway, I’m calling you, because Wei Wuxian wanted me to tell you something.”

Lan Wangji almost drops his phone again and then squeezes it hard, so there’s no chance of him missing what Nie Huaisang is about to say. Except the line stays silent.

“Huaisang . ”

“Hm? What is it, Wangji?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, I will tell you, don’t worry. But will you first promise to at least reply ‘No, thank you’ the next time I send you an invite? You know, I spend a lot of time making the graphics for my party invites and-”

“ Nie Huaisang. ”

This would not be happening if they were talking in person. If Nie Huaisang could see Lan Wangji’s expression right now, he would not be drawing this out.

“Just chill, will you? Wei Wuxian wanted me to tell you that he can’t come to your library date today because something something daycare holiday and he has to take care of Wen Yuan because Wen Ning is feeling under the weather?”

“Tell me his exact words.”

“Are you being serious? I don’t know, dude! Can’t you just give him your number? I offered it to him but he said some bullshit like ‘respecting Lan Zhan’s wishes’ or whatever. I said I’d prefer to disrespect your wishes instead of playing messenger, but-”

Lan Wangji ends the call.

Wei Ying is okay. He’s not leaving the country. His husband does not seem to feel well, but it doesn’t sound like something serious is going on. Wei Ying even went to the trouble of making Nie Huaisang inform him.

He’s not nothing to Wei Wuxian.

A knot in his chest becomes undone and the rest of his body follows.

Wednesday, Eleventh Day with…

He hears Wei Wuxian before he sees him.

“Ghost!”

“No, I don’t think they have the Ghost General book here, A-Yuan. And remember, we have to be quiet! Shhh!”

“Shhh!”

“Yes! Or Lan Zhan will be annoyed with us! We don’t want that.”

“Quiet!”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Gege quiet!”

“Wonderful. A-Yuan, you’re so smart!”

Wei Wuxian is here and he brought… his son. They’re here, together, in the library. And every moment now, they’ll appear between the bookshelves and Lan Wangji will have to interact with them. Are children even allowed in this library? He has never seen one here! Though just because Wei Ying brought a child, doesn’t mean it is allowed.

Then he feels bad about thinking about children as things to be “allowed” or “forbidden”. But he might be panicking a little, because he didn’t expect this and he does not know how to interact with children and what if Wei Ying’s son hates him? What if he accidentally makes him cry? What if -

Oh no, there’s Wei Ying’s hair… and there’s the rest of him. He’s holding A-Yuan perched on his hip and carrying a very large, very stuffed messenger bag.

As soon as Wei Ying spots him, he smiles one of his beautiful smiles.

“Lan Zhan! You’re here!”

“Mn.”

He wants to say more, wants to say “I missed you yesterday” and “I was worried” and “Please, let’s exchange phone numbers, I cannot do this again”. But A-Yuan is staring at him, eyes huge in his little face and Lan Wangji isn’t sure what to do.

Wei Wuxian laughs and then comes closer and sits down on the table again. Lan Wangji doesn’t dare to break eye contact with A-Yuan. Wei Wuxian seems to find this hilarious.

“Lan Zhan, are you scared? Don’t worry, A-Yuan is the sweetest kid! He won’t destroy your books or disturb the peace of the library! A-Yuan, say hello to Lan-gege?”

A-Yuan stares some more and Lan Wangji tries his best to look friendly and approachable. He doesn’t have a lot of practice though, so he’s sure he’s doing it wrong.

“Hello.” A-Yuan even gives a little wave. His stare has become less threatening too.

“Hello, A-Yuan. Nice to meet you.” Lan Wangji awkwardly returns the wave and then looks at Wei Wuxian, hoping that he takes a hold of the conversation.

“Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry about yesterday.” Wei Ying is now perched on top of the table, sitting on Lan Wangji’s notes and his thigh almost touches Lan Wangji’s fingertips. A-Yuan has grabbed a strand of Wei Ying’s hair and is in the process of chewing on it. “Were you waiting for me? Did Huaisang call you?”

Whenever Wei Wuxian asks several questions at once, he finds it overwhelming. But he is glad that Wei Wuxian never expects him to actually answer all of them.

“Were you waiting for me?” He’d been waiting for Wei Ying for all his life and hadn’t even realised it.

“Mn.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Ah, it was just a bit chaotic at home and poor A-Ning isn’t feeling so well at the moment and needs some peace and quiet and the daycare is closed this week and obviously there’s no peace and quiet when me and the radish are around and-”

“Gege quiet!”

A-Yuan puts his hands over Wei Ying’s mouth. Lan Wangji makes a soft noise of approval. Wei Wuxian puts on a look of exaggerated betrayal.

“Shh!”

This is followed by a short interlude of Wei Wuxian opening his mouth to make weird growling noises and A-Yuan trying to cover his mouth with his little hands, while switching between laughing and shushing him. Neither of them is quiet, but Lan Wangji simply enjoys watching the scene. Until he finally says: “We’re in a library.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, of course.” Wei Ying turns to look at him, lowers his voice an insignificant amount and somehow manages to talk casually while moving his head around to evade A-Yuans flailing hands. “We’re leaving now, don’t worry. Just wanted to… well, I wanted… to make sure that you’re informed-” (“Gege quiet!”) “Not that I expect you to care what we’re up to, but just in case you were… “

“I care.”

“Oh…” For a moment, Wei Ying simply stares at him and it is long enough for A-Yuan to hit his mark. Wei Wuxian extracts his lips from A-Yuans grip and smiles at Lan Wangji. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re so sweet. Of course you care when someone misses their library time! Anyway, we’re off to the playground now, I think, maybe visit some ants-” (“Ants!”) “Do you want to… no, what am I saying, you’re busy and you don’t like grass, I imagine that sand is even worse.”

But Lan Wangji wants. He wants so much that he ignores his need to think about his actions for a long while before they happen, closes his laptop, packs his bag and gets up.

Lan Wanji stands in front of Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan, both lifting their heads to stare up at him, and gives them a determined nod.

“Playground.”

“Huh? Lan Zhan, do you mean…?”

“Let’s go.”

Wei Wuxian looks as though he would have fallen over, if he wasn’t already sitting. Before Lan Wangji can start thinking instead of going ahead with this reckless spontaneity, he turns around and leaves.

Lan Wangji hasn’t been on a playground since his mother died. (Lan Qiren didn’t have an explicit rule against it but that’s more due to the fact that even the idea of asking Lan Qiren to go to the playground had seemed ridiculous and scary.)

It feels as though he’s walking in a memory. It is colourful, yet very quiet; they’re the only people here. If he turns around, maybe he’d see six year old Lan Wangji running through the sand into his mother’s arms. Lan Wangji wonders if he also stopped running eventually… He runs on the treadmill, but when was the last time he ran because his heart wasn’t patient enough to walk to his destination?

Loud shrieking pulls him out of his thoughts and he turns to see A-Yuan basically throwing himself out of Wei Wuxian’s arms and running towards a little house with a slide as fast as his legs will carry him.

Wei Wuxian drops his bag onto a bench with a heavy thud and then sits down with a slightly lighter thud. Lan Wangji painfully realises that he is wearing white trousers and everything on this playground is very sandy, even the benches. Well, it is too late to back out now. Not that he wants to. He was going to do laundry tonight anyway.

He gingerly sits down next to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian demonstrates once more that he cannot sit properly. He turns around to Lan Wangji, puts one foot on the bench and rests his arm on his knee. Because he’s wearing shorts again, Lan Wangji can see the tiny mole on his knee. Lan Wangji determinedly moves his gaze to Wei Wuxian’s face, which is only marginally better, because Wei Ying is smiling at him.

“Lan Zhan, you’re using this as an excuse to take a break from studying, aren’t you? Even Lan Wangji must get bored in the library eventually, right?”

Lan Wangji frowns slightly. Yes, he should be working on his paper instead of irresponsibly abandoning it, before lunch even, and spending time on a playground. However, he’s still unwilling to look closer at his rash decision, lest he can manage to talk himself out of it, so he says:

“Is it alright to let A-Yuan play unsupervised?”

“Huh?” Wei Ying turns around to look at A-Yuan, who is using the slide over and over again while talking to himself in a language Lan Wangji doesn’t understand. “Oh, he’s fine! You’ll hear it if we need to give him attention, don’t worry.”

Lan Wangji is not convinced, but he’s not a father.

Wei Wuxian is looking at him again, smiling and not saying anything, which is very unnerving.

“Wei Ying.”

“Hm?”

“Is your… is Wen Ning feeling alright?”

“You’re so sweet, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying puts his hand on Lan Wangji’s arm. The tips of his fingers brush against the sensitive skin in the crook of his arm. It’s difficult to notice anything else. “So nice of you to worry, but Wen Ning is fine. He just needs a few days of rest and quiet!”

Wei Wuxian’s hand is still on his arm. He’s sure Wei Ying doesn’t mean anything by it, doesn’t collect every touch to keep them close to his heart. Wei Ying’s touches are not deliberate, they come naturally to him and usually, Lan Wangji envies him a bit for it.

However, they’re currently talking about Wei Wuxian’s (probable) husband. In light of this, his fluttering heart is a shameless thing.

Lan Wangji moves his arm slightly to the right, so that Wei Ying’s touch is no more than a lingering memory on his skin.

A frown hushes across Wei Ying’s brow and the fingers that had just been touching Lan Wangji curl up into a fist. But as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, and Wei Ying’s expression is as clear and sunny as the sky above them again.

“GEGE LOOK!”

They both turn around, just in time to witness A-Yuan flying down the slide headfirst, on his belly. He lands with his face smushed in the sand. Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet. Lan Wangji’s heart skips several beats. For a second, everything is quiet and then… A-Yuan lifts his head, sand all over his face, and he laughs.

Wei Wuxian laughs too, as he walks over to A-Yuan to wipe the sand from his face.

“A-Yuan, not on your belly! Do you remember the last time, when you got sand in your eye and it hurt?”

A-Yuan doesn’t care for this walk down memory lane and instead runs back to do it all over again. Wei Wuxian rushes over to him and holds on to him, so he can’t slide down.

“Ah, ah! Only on your butt, feet first! Do radishes get planted upside down? No, no, you put the feet in the ground first.”

“Gege mean!”

A-Yuan complains, but lets himself be lifted and turned around until he’s in a proper sliding position again.

“Stopping you from getting hurt is not mean. That is not a convincing argument; you need to do better, if you want to sway me!”

A-Yuan sticks out his tongue, Wei Wuxian replies in kind and Lan Wangji watches them make faces at each other.

Playgrounds are… stressful. When he looks around, he only sees places children could fall down from, or get their hands jammed in. But seeing Wei Ying be so sweet with A-Yuan, who is clearly very fine, has calmed down his heart.

But why does A-Yuan keep calling Wei Ying ‘gege’? Maybe this could lend credibility to Xichen’s “Wei Wuxian is not married” thesis. But…

Wei Wuxian is crouching down at the bottom of the slide, so A-Yuan can slide down right into his arms. It is an image so full of warmth, how could they be anything less than the closest family?

Eventually, A-Yuan loses interest in the slide (to Lan Wangji’s relief) and starts playing in the sand. Wei Wuxian returns to the bench and his improper sitting pose. He also goes back to smiling at Lan Wangji, who had just managed to calm down his heart.

“Wei Ying”

“Lan Zhan.”

“May I ask… Why does A-Yuan call you ‘gege’”?

Wei Ying looks terribly confused and Lan Wangji’s palms begin to sweat. Has he overlooked something very obvious, has he somehow insulted him, is this an improper question, has he-

“Well, he’s two - all boys are gege to him.”

Mhm. He supposes that that is possible.

“Besides, what else should he call me? Shushu? Xiongzhang? No, no, I’d feel so old!”

“... Mn.”

He should ask now. He really should. “Wei Ying, is this your son? Are you married?” There’s plenty of evidence pointing at the possibility that maybe it isn’t so. But the moment passes and Lan Wangji stays silent. Would it really make a difference if he knew for sure?

A-Yuan calls for Wei Wuxian again after a while, to show him his sand creations. Wei Wuxian is appropriately impressed. And then…

“Tall-gege!”

They’re both looking at him, expectantly. Lan Wangji realises that he must be ‘Tall-gege’.

“Tall-gege, come!”

Lan Wangji slowly gets up and walks over to where they are both sitting in the sand. He does not sit down, but crouches down next to them, careful to not mess up his trousers more than necessary.

“What can I do for you, A-Yuan?”

“Cake!”

A-Yuan points at a pile of sand in front of him. Ah, that must be the cake.

“That appears to be a finely baked cake.” It has a good colour and is decorated with little pebbles. Lan Wangji is not an expert, but he thinks as far as sand cakes go, this is a very good example. “Well done.”

A-Yuan stares at him, waiting. Lan Wangji glances at Wei Ying, unsure what is expected of him. Wei Ying mouthes “Eat” at him and then makes a gesture that could be interpreted as eating. Oh.

“A-Yuan, this looks wonderful, but I can’t eat sand.”

A-Yuan’s expression is crestfallen and Lan Wangji desperately looks at Wei Ying again.

“Ahaha, Lan Zhan just doesn’t know how to properly eat one of your delicious cakes! Don’t worry, I’ll help him!”

And then Wei Ying pretends to take a piece of cake and holds the pretend cake in front of Lan Wangji’s lips. Lan Wangji takes a pretend bite of the pretend cake. He should feel silly, but instead there’s heat crawling up his neck. Wei Ying grins and winks at Lan Wangji. His ears feel hot, too.

“Lan Zhan, how is it?”

“... Wonderful.” He’s still looking at Wei Wuxian as he says this. Wei Ying slowly lowers his hand, blinking rapidly and then busies himself with helping A-Yuan make more sand cakes.

After baking a few more, A-Yuan insists that only Lan Wangji is allowed to taste his creations, not Wei Wuxian (despite loud protests and lots of pouting), and Lan Wangji never knew that pretend cake could taste so sweet.

Eventually, they move on to eating real food. Lan Wangji shares his lunch with both of them, though he’s glad to see that Wei Wuxian isn’t feeding prawn chips to A-Yuan and brought some fruits and milk bread. When they’re done, A-Yuan becomes… moody and refuses to get down from Wei Wuxian’s lap.

“Ah, I think it’s time for us to leave. A-Yuan needs his nap. I hope the bus isn’t full; it’s not easy to stand with a sleeping child on your arm, haha!”

“I live close.” Lan Wangji’s mouth really is reckless today.

“You’re so lucky! You can sleep much longer, even if you have an early class! Ah, I’m so jealous.”

“I mean… “ Wei Ying misunderstanding gives him an out. One he doesn’t want to take. “A-Yuan can take his nap at my apartment.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open and Lan Wangji resolutely looks at A-Yuan, whose eyes are getting smaller and smaller.

“Lan Zhan, are you serious?”

“Only seven minutes walk.”

With that, he stands up, dusts off his trousers and holds a hand out to Wei Ying.

“Bag or A-Yuan - what should I carry?”

And that’s how Lan Wangji ends up carrying a sleeping A-Yuan back to his flat, Wei Wuxian chatting happily at his side. He should be reckless more often.

[yubinwrld]

i’d do it over and over again if i had to

words: 9500

summary: 

eventually a rhythm formed, wen ning staying at the jingshi three or four nights a week so wei ying could run tests on him. he would "sleep" in the next room over and lan wangji would sound proof his and wei ying's room so they wouldn't bother the other, but more and more often he found himself forgetting to place the silencing talisman on their shared door. wei ying knew that the hanguang-jun never truly forgot anything.       or, wei ying is experimenting with talisman (with lan zhan's permission — or as much permission as he'll give — of course) to try and bring back at least some feeling for wen ning. but when it unexpectedly works and wen ning is overwhelmed, he needs both lan zhan and wei ying there to help him through it.

pairings: lan wangji/wen ning/wei wuxian

warnings: wen ning that can feel, consensual smut bc consent is sexy, porn with feelings/porn with plot, mutual pinning, overstimulation, self-hatred, lapslock, not beta read

AO3 Link

it took time to adjust. he was used to feeling so much, everything. he was too sensitive, wen qing would always say. he let everything get to him. everything bad, but more specifically everything good. that's how he got sucked into the spiderweb that was wei wuxian, sticky and overbearing and snug. but, if he was a bug, he would've been strong enough to get away. even as a human, he was strong enough to slip out of his grasp and continue on the path that he knew so well. on the path that he had traveled since he could remember. the path with wen qing, his path.

yet he didn't. he abandoned what he knew, he left his people for a second of comfort. a second of comfort that could be compared to stockholm syndrome, but not stockholm syndrome caused by wei wuxian. stockholm syndrome caused by years of being trapped, of being held down by people that he couldn't even recall the names of. people that would twist their faces in disgust every time they thought he wasn't looking, people who would talk behind his back because they didn't even have the courtesy to whisper. so say what you will, but he found a split second of comfort that wasn't his sister and he was determined to never let go.

who knew never would turn into forever.

it would've taken anyone time to adjust, especially someone as sensitive as him. in the beginning it wasn't so bad, he had wen qing to soothe what he couldn't, to create a ghost of sensation that young master wei could not. and he tried, he really did. no one truly knows how hard he tried besides wen ning. he wouldn't even bother wen qing with it, he was always so stubborn. he tried for years, for as long as he could. though a normal person would, wen ning never blamed wei wuxian. never once did he catch even a sliver of malice, not a hint of hostility towards the man slip through his mind. no part of him could ever hate wei wuxian. not when he had tried so hard.

when he lost wen qing it was harder. but the harder melted into a numbness, like feeling a palm on his skin that he had so many times after his young master had gotten done poking and prodding, trying to fix him. but he was still so thankful that he felt numb, for it was better than feeling nothing. and with the numbness he fell into a routine.

he'd get up, check himself for any injuries that he may have missed at one point, greet jin guangshan at around noon, then wait for the guards to tell him to sleep. then he'd lay on his back for the remainder of the night, until the sun began to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold. then it would begin again.

and it stayed like that until jin guangshan stopped coming, soon replaced by the late jin guangyao and behind him a young xue yang. sometimes they would poke and prod in a way that reminded him of his wei wuxian, without the warmth behind their touches that he couldn't feel but rather see in the pools of his master's eyes. other times they would just talk to him. asking him endless questions about everything: his sister, his clan, the amulet, wei wuxian, even young master lan wangji. and he would indulge them; not because he was afraid of anything they could do to him, even they knew he couldn't feel it if they were to sear his chest with a million brands. but because he had nothing else. he thinks they knew that. sometimes they would just sit until xue yang would break the silence with a joke that jin guangyao would double over laughing at. and wen ning would attempt a smile, he imagined himself sighing in relief if he could because even though these were the people that would hold him locked up for thirteen years, they were all he knew anymore. and he appreciated them, somewhere inside of him. they filled the hole that was waiting for wei wuxian to return home.

and return home he did. and just like that wen ning was standing in front of his young master for the first time in over a decade, waiting for anything. a command, a comment, even simply a breath. he would take it, regardless.

they fell into step with each other as if they hadn't ever been apart. wen ning felt the pull to defend, to protect, in his chest that he hadn't felt in so long and it felt as right as right could feel for him. and they were back, the infamous yiling patriarch and his ghost general. twirling around each other and bathing in grotesque raindrops of blood. and oh how he had missed this, missed the feeling of his arms reaching to catch swords spinning just a bit too close to young master wei, the feeling of young master lan wangji's eyes on the back of his head, the grin of wei wuxian after they got done working so well together that many would consider them one. that was how they were known for so long, after all. if there was one, the other was lingering close behind; a two in one package unless wen qing or young master lan joined.

and he was content with that. even if it wasn't just them, a cross young master lan or nagging wen qing coming along, he was content. he was content being able to just be in wei wuxian's presence, after all. he didn't need anything more. even as young master lan's distaste continued to grow and he wasn't allowed to see his young master as often as before, he was still content because wei wuxian had someone that loved him in a way that no one else could.

no, he never hated his wei wuxian. he hated himself for not being able to love him like lan wangji could. the lan wangji that wasn't there, the lan wangji that was absent when his young master needed him the most. that lan wangji could love wei wuxian infinitely more than wen ning could ever love him. he hated himself for that. for being too weak to live, for being too weak to protect wen qing and wei wuxian, for being too weak to admit what he felt for wei wuxian before he couldn't feel it anymore.

but he hated himself the most for not hating lan wangji. he hated himself the most for looking up to lan wangji, for being jealous of lan wangji, for being sorry towards lan wangji. he hated himself the most for not taking care of lan wangji for the thirteen years that wei wuxian didn't exist in this life, for letting lan wangji wait and wait for the man he loved more than anything else.

but what was his hate worth anymore?

𑁍

"lan zhan?" wei wuxian murmured, not looking up from the book settled out in front of him. he didn't wait for his husband to answer, instead waving his hand and saying "go get wen ning, i want to try something."

"mn," came from behind him and he let a light smile play on his lips, mentally making note to thank the man later. lan wangji let himself out quietly, sliding the door to the jingshi shut behind him without as much as a creek. wei wuxian could never get the door to shut without making a terrible noise that made the hairs on his arms rise, one time he had even mentioned it to lan zhan in a passing complaint that he wasn't too adamant about until hearing lan zhan's response. "it is just you that cannot close the gusu doors quietly."

"what do you mean 'just me?' lan zhan, don't look away from me, what do you mean just me?" so wei wuxian had spent an extra amount of time trying to learn how to close the lan's doors correctly after noticing that he was in fact the only one that couldn't do it properly. to no avail, though, even after an exceeding amount of embarrassment upon finding out that wen ning, too, could shut them without much disturbance.

lan wangji strolled respectfully out the home, making his way through rows of blooming flowers and bright green grass. there was a small building a few li away from the jingshi that wen ning inhabited while staying in gusulan, though normally he would stay close by lan sizhui's side and lan wangji would act as if he didn't know. other times wei ying would insist on him staying inside the jingshi with them. in the beginning it was a rare request because lan wangji was so reluctant to fulfill it, though he always did regardless because he would do anything for wei ying (but not without a few objections of "only spouses are allowed in the jingshi"). yet, eventually, wen ning became the expectation. there was even one time where lan wangji had directly asked wen ning if he was staying with them without wei ying having to prompt him. when wen ning had replied that he needed to stay with sizhui that night, wei ying rewarded lan wangji with a long night without sleep.

eventually a rhythm formed, wen ning staying at the jingshi three or four nights a week so wei ying could run tests on him. he would "sleep" in the next room over and lan wangji would sound proof his and wei ying's room so they wouldn't bother the other, but more and more often he found himself forgetting to place the silencing talisman on their shared door. wei ying knew that the hanguang-jun never truly forgot anything.

on nights that wen ning wasn't at the jingshi he was either with sizhui or at the small home lan wangji had requested be made for him. that had taken a lot of coaxing from wei ying for wen ning to accept the gesture, even if he wasn't there most of the time. a majority of wen ning's (few) belongings were scattered around his bedroom in the jingshi so really all that was at the "pingjing*," as lan wangji had told wen ning it was named, were necessities such as an outhouse, a furnace and the-like. there was also a small box that wen ning kept locked at all times. lan wangji had never asked him about it and didn't intend to, wei ying didn't know about it and he wasn't sure wen ning wanted him to anyway. so they didn't talk about it.

*pingjing translates to "calm" and "tranquil"

the previous night was one of the few that wen ning had actually spent at the pingjing, bowing in leave with a heightened sense of nervousness that even wei ying could catch. but lan wangji stopped his husband before he could ask, shaking his head and mumbling to respect wen ning wanting to have time to himself. so they went their separate ways, knowing they would see each other the next day.

lan wangji rose up onto the cobblestone step that was placed before the threshold of the pingjing and knocked lightly as not to disturb the man inside. silence blanketed his surroundings in a way that lan wangji was used to, but not with wen ning. it was similar to when he had stood in front of wei ying before his uncle, an unspoken vow of loyalty tethered to wei ying. without hesitance, lan wangji opened the pingjing's door and stepped inside, the smell of sandalwood rushing into his senses. he eyed a small table by an open window, the only cause of light inside the room, and noted a stick of incense burning in an incense burner. it had a lilac ash tray while the body was a deeper purple, mimicking the yunmengjiang robes that lan wangji had seen wei ying sport more than once.

wen ning was sitting on the bed, his legs drawn to his chest and his forehead tucked into his knees. his head shot up at the sound of the door opening, not expecting hanguang-jun to walk in without permission. his legs fell to the ground and he was standing before he could process it, already making his way into a bow. slender fingers wrapped around his left shoulder and halted the act of respect, pushing him back up tenderly. "you do not have to do this," lan wangji said, eyes locked with wen ning's.

wen ning searched for a sense of understanding in young master lan's eyes, golden molting into hues of jade and creating a ripple of color. more and more often wen ning had felt his own eyes linger on young master lan for longer than would be deemed acceptable, and when the other noticed he did not mention it. instead he allowed himself to do the same, catching wen ning's gaze during conversations with wei ying or when they were out night hunting in a way that he hadn't done before.

"yes, young master lan," wen ning nodded back, straightening out his back once more and slipping on the shoes master lan had insisted wen ning begin wearing. they made their way back to the jingshi in silence, lan wangji not mentioning what he had walked in on (though he didn't quite know what that was himself) and wen ning not attempting to explain. before they walked into the jingshi's doors, wen ning stopped and picked one of the blue flowers trailing the jingshi's walkway. the shadow of a smile drifted on his face as he turned towards lan wangji, lifting the flower up as if to place it behind the other man's ear before realizing who exactly he was about to touch.

he cringed back as if he had been burned, letting his eyes drop to the cobblestone stepping stones marking the way up to the threshold. they stood for a moment, lan wangji eventually becoming fed up. he carefully took the flower from wen ning's hand and tucked it behind his own ear, "it is okay." wen ning's grey eyes shot up similar to how they had done in the pingjing, dancing over the way young master lan's hair was delicately flowing in the wind and the way the tip of his ear was red as it held the blue blossom in place. his forehead ribbon drifted in the same direction his hair flowed, wen ning absentmindedly thought it would tickle where it lightly touched his hand.

without thinking, he let two of his fingers trap the frolicking ribbon and watched young master lan's eyes widen by a minuscule and wen ning let himself bathe in the moment. he was the one who made lan wangji react like so, he was the one who made lan wangji's ears turn red in a blush, he was the one who got lan wangji to place a small, blue flower behind his ear and he was the one who was getting to see lan wangji look too open for the first time that wen ning could truly recall. or at least look open when looking at him. he let the ribbon slip through his fingers and continue prancing through the wind as if it was proud of itself, "it reminded me of you." without waiting for a reaction, wen ning spun on his heel and finished the walk into the jingshi. lan wangji heard wei wuxian's delighted shout at his arrival.

lan wangji let his face relax and felt heat creep up the nape of his neck and cheeks. slender fingers reached up and wrapped around a petal, tucking it under his forehead ribbon. he stood for a moment, thinking and watching wei ying smother wen ning in a hug through the open doors. he felt his eyes soften as wen ning tried to pry wei ying off without any actual force, pushing on the side of his face and being wrapped in the warmth of wei ying's laughter. suddenly realizing his expression, lan wangji straightened himself and coughed, covering his face with the long, white sleeve of his robe. so maybe wei ying was right last night when he mentioned lan zhan's increasing care for the third man. and maybe he was also right about lan zhan liking wen ning just a little bit. maybe a lot a bit. okay, he'd figure it out. they'd figure it out.

𑁍

the two men settled across from wen ning, who was seated on their bed, their legs tangled together by wei ying's absentminded nervousness. a plethora of talisman decorated wen ning's shirt like women's makeup during festivals, colorful but overwhelming to look at. wen ning's expression was pulled taunt in concentration, eyes squished shut in a way that caused his eyelids to wrinkle with age he'll never get the chance to experience. wei ying's blood dripped down wen ning's neck, pooling into the collar of his dark robe. swishes of wind and the rustle of leaves could be heard over the two men's breathing, almost replicating a third inhale and exhale.

wei ying groaned in frustration and stood, reaching for wen ning blindly and tugging him over to his desk, "how long is this supposed to take? why isn't there a rule book on 'how to make your ferocious corpse feel'?" lan wangji placed his palms on both of his knees and situated himself into a meditative pose, letting his eyes drift closed and allowing wei ying and wen ning's voices to mix into a comfortable hum. the draft of wind drifted through his finger tips and his senses seemed to open up, everything becoming louder but more muffled at the same time. the world moved under his calves but remained still, his mouth opened just a hair to feel air brush against the inside of his lips.

he remained like that until startled out of meditation by a shrieking wei ying and a crying wen ning. crying wen ning? lan wangji shifted to look at the two men; wei ying jumped up and down in ecstasy and large droplets of water cascaded down wen ning's face as he let out a monstrous sob. wei ying continued to grin and dance abstractly, flopping his limbs around and pushing his hands against wen ning's cheeks. eventually he turned towards lan zhan, beckoning him to come closer as a response to his questioning gaze. the other pushed himself to his feet and padded over to the two blubbering boys before him. "lan zhan! lan zhan, feel his face. here, feel it," wei ying shoved lan wangji's hand against wen ning's soaked cheeks and watched his eyes widen. he was warm. "my fucking god it only took sixteen years! but i did it, lan zhan i did it!" he grabbed lan wangji's hands back and began to dance around him, letting wen ning continue to cry.

after managing to slip away from wei ying's ecstatic limbs, lan wangji placed a hand on wen ning's shoulder, mirroring their position from earlier that morning. he crouched down in front of the shaking figure, bringing his other hand to wen ning's chin and lifting his head. for the first time, lan wangji let his guard down in front of someone that wasn't wei ying. apparently seeing the change in expression, wen ning's face stilled in shock before crumpling completely, surging forward and into lan wangji's arms. the two fell backwards, wen ning's head stuffed in lan zhan's neck and lan zhan's arms wrapped around wen ning's waist. he rested his head on the floor and glanced over at his now motionless husband, a smile playing on his lips in between a smug smirk and a smile of relief. "wen ning?"

no response came for a while, air continuing to whistle through an open window above their bed. after calming himself down as much as he could, wen ning lifted his head a fraction to look up at lan wangji's welcoming face. the tears began to flow once more and wei ying chuckled, sitting down next to the conjoined men. "i-i'm s-sorry, it's jus-just a lot," he managed to choke out, and lan wangji had never felt so relieved to hear a stutter. lan wangji hummed in understanding, watching wei ying's hand thread through wen ning's hair. it wasn't matted and knotted like it had been when he returned to them. with a bucket full of embarrassment and soapy water, wei ying had requested wen ning start taking baths again. that had been a whole can of warms to unload, wen ning didn't feel that he was worthy of a bath, much less one in the gusulan residence so he insisted on leaving and finding a pond to bathe in. this had upset wei ying and a present lan sizhui who made it very clear that if wen ning wasn't worthy then he wasn't either.

this had prompted a frustrated wei ying to turn towards the only person he knew could talk the two men out of leaving and bathing in an algae filled lake, lan wangji. that had been the first time lan wangji caught an unusual glint in wen ning's eyes, though that should've been expected after he said "both of you. stay. wen ning, come with me." but it wasn't a look of confusion or exasperation, instead his expression held trust. anything else would've been easy for lan wangji to brush off, but trust from the person he had eagerly pushed out of wei ying's life was just enough to make him question everything he knew about the man. and then the tiny exchanges began. minor things, really, that no one would normally catch. but the lans were experts on small expressions and encounters, especially those closest to hanguang-jun.

maybe zewu-jun noticed first, or perhaps even lan sizhui. but he felt the amount of eyes on him increase every time he was around the new addition to the lan clan (upon both wei ying and lan wangji's requests, of course). he payed them no mind and awaited the day wei ying would ask him about it, and alas it came. fingers strummed a qin and lips wrapped around a flute, a melancholic harmony floating through the jingshi, brushing against their napes and flowing through their hair. and then the sound from the flute stopped, and the fingers ceased to strum. contentment filled the space between them until a hushed wei ying whispered, "when were you going to tell me?"

"i wasn't." and honestly, he didn't plan on it. nothing would come of it, anyway. even if lan wangji long ago caught the way wei ying would look at wen ning, would hold wen ning against him after another failed attempt at bringing back whatever it was humans sought after so much. and it would remind him that wei ying and wen ning shared something that he never would, a bond much stronger than anything he knew. he was content letting them have that, because after so much they deserved it. he had wei ying and wei ying had him, so what if wei ying also had wen ning? he needed them both and lan wangji knew that better than anyone. so he pushed it down and decided that it didn't need to be talked about, his own feelings for wen ning would be too overwhelming for either of them. he was okay like that, too, until a broken wen ning sat in his arms and a too-caring wei ying carded his hand through his hair.

then it wasn't okay anymore. when wen ning was right there and open and raw and lan wangji just wanted to take, take, take. as if knowing lan zhan was drowning in his thoughts, wei ying spoke up from beside him. "if everything is right, and it better be after so long, then your body should replicate a living one. the only thing you won't have is a beating heart. do you feel okay?" he spoke the last part in a hushed voice, leaning more towards his ear. wen ning squeaked in reply and stuffed his head back into lan wangji's neck, nodding erratically in response. wei ying huffed out a laugh and pushed back on his haunches, followed by a set of golden eyes. "okay, come here. i need to check everything."

lan wangji felt wen ning's body go rigid in a way he previously wasn't able to, small movements such as temporarily freezing being too difficult for him. a copious amount of black hair lifted itself up slowly and wen ning peered at his young master from under his eyelashes, a fiery blush blotched over his cheekbones. he picked himself up at a crawl, trembling when he stood like a newborn fawn. a pair of toes pinched lan wangji's calf in nervousness and he looked down to see a foot still in between his legs, the other stepped forward as if to make his way towards wei ying. shaking his head in faux annoyance, wei ying went to wen ning instead and started feeling and pressing and pulling on whatever piece of skin he could get his hands on. little whimpers escaped wen ning's lips here and there, not used to the feeling of warmth against his skin. he had eventually stopped crying, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. wei ying lifted a hand and brushed at them, letting the pads of his fingertips dance over wen ning's collarbone and chin and lips. they paused then, as if in hesitation, before pressing forward and drawing shapes on his lips. not enough pressure to hurt but enough that wen ning could now feel it, and a spark went up his spine before he was opening his mouth and taking in one the fingers.

he didn't know what exactly caused the spark of confidence. it could've been as simple as the flow of adrenaline and finally feeling another person actually touch him again after so long of acute numbness. or it could've been as complex as the rush of emotions swim back into his veins, the bloom of love and lust and want dragging him towards wei wuxian in a way he had missed so much. he felt seventeen again, like the first time he met wei wuxian and knew he was fucked beyond belief. he felt his world stop, the warmth of the sun on his skin and the rush of wind through his hair that he had only been able to see for sixteen years. he felt the pad of fingertips and the squish of thighs through his toes, the smell of sandalwood that he had tried to replicate just earlier that day and exhausted himself from anger when he couldn't. whatever caused it, though, he thanked earnestly. he thanked it earnestly because it allowed wei wuxian's eyes to widen in disbelief and lan wangji's breath to audibly catch.

eyelashes flickered as wen ning looked down at lan wangji, reaching towards him in desperation. a new feeling for young master lan bounced around in his skull but he didn't give it much thought, tucking it into a far away box for a rainy day. without the hesitation that wei ying previously displayed, lan wangji gripped wen ning's hand and pulled himself up, instantly shoving his way into his unspoken bubble. but he knew it wasn't his bubble anymore, it wasn't his barrier. it was theirs. velvet caressed wei ying's finger and circled around it, sucking lightly and pulling out a barely audible moan from the finger's owner. wen ning smirked and let the finger fall from his lips, a string of saliva dripping down his chin.

restraint was tossed out the window as lan wangji dipped down to press against wen ning's lips, almost feeling sorry towards wei ying for a split moment until wen ning's hand curled in the hair at the back of his neck. he was so warm, so alive. wen ning's lack of experience was made up for by enthusiasm, pushing his tongue into lan wangji's mouth before he could comprehend what he was doing. but he didn't push the other away, instead grabbing his waist and pulling him closer, letting his bottom lip be rolled between wen ning's teeth. hands roamed and gripped from themselves and the ever impatient wei ying, teeth clashing and clinking in desperation. wen ning allowed himself to be picked up into sturdy arms, instinctively wrapping his legs around lan wangji's waist, when a shaky voice told them to go to the bed.

wen ning had always wondered what their bed felt like, he questioned if it would feel like his own or better. the answer was better, though he didn't know if that was because he could suddenly feel every fiber in their silk bed sheets or because he had lan wangji pressed between his legs and biting at his collar. wei ying's blood had been wiped off by him during inspection but the soaked robe still remained on his body, red staining the beautiful white fabric. lan wangji didn't seem to care for the article of clothing, untying wen ning's outer robes and pulling him out of them swiftly. wei ying watched from the side, trailing absentminded kisses down lan wangji's arm. when lan wangji dove towards wen ning's inner robes, a hand shot out and held his wrist back. lan wangji looked up into wen ning's uneasy gaze, a new blush spreading up the part of his chest that the other two men could see. "young master lan..."

lan wangji growled deep in his chest, pulling his wrist out of wen ning's grip and settling close to his ear. "lan zhan." that's all it took to get the three of them moving as quickly as possible, lan zhan focusing on his own outer and then inner robes with wei ying's already gone. wen ning clumsily ripped away his remaining white layer, sitting up on his knees and connecting his lips with wei ying's. the other groaned, pushing wen ning back and gripping onto the inside of his thighs, squishing the skin under his fingers hard enough to leave bruises. constant noises fell out of wen ning's mouth at the new sensations, overly sensitive to everything around him. the feeling of lan zhan's breath against his neck, the bite of wei ying's finger nails into his thighs, and press of lan zhan's hand against his erection.

pulling back, wei ying grinned at the withering man underneath his touches. "be as loud as you want, no one dares to come in here." bending down, he trailed one of his hands up wen ning's chest and caught an earlobe between his teeth. "lan-er gege loves when i'm vocal." that was all it took for wen ning to spill over the edge, back arching against the bed spread and hand gripping someone's arm. a long moan ripped from the back of his throat as he came so hard he felt he'd been hit by a boulder. "you're so sensitive, we should've known you'd come fast." wei ying laughed, loud and beautifully, as he wrapped long, slender fingers around wen ning's softening member and began to tug playfully. wen ning's eyes rolled into the back of his head and another moan escaped from his throat, bringing a mesmerized lan zhan to wrap puckered lips around one of his nipples.

wei ying smirked and continued to move his wrist in a steady rhythm, watching wen ning's facial expressions attentively. "y-young master wei" wen ning choked out, his head pressed against the bed spread and his neck open access. wei ying tutted and gripped wen ning's dick tighter, speeding up his ministrations and causing the man to squirm. lan zhan moved from his place on wen ning's right nipple up to his neck, making himself occupied while wei ying got his way. "w-wei," wen ning began in a stutter, still not completely wanting to give in. after all, wen ning had been called him 'young master' since they met 16 years ago.

dropping down in front of wen ning's now semi-hard cock, he let his tongue trace the underside of the head. wen ning gasped, beginning to thrash when wei ying dipped into his slit, rubbing circles of saliva into his head. "wei ying!" wen ning sobbed, making a low groan come from lan zhan's direction. wei ying grinned, taking the head of wen ning's cock into his mouth and sucked eagerly. a sigh was released through his nose as a hand found its place on the back of his head, threading through his hair. feeling spurred on, wei ying took the rest of wen ning into his mouth, trailing his tongue up the vein that didn't pump any blood. he made sure his teeth weren't scraping, knowing wen ning was way too sensitive for that yet. even so, he let his tongue lightly catch on the underside of wen ning's head, groaning in pleasure when wen ning tugged on his hair and cried out. lan zhan took this as an invitation, pushing their lips to slot together in messy arousal.

watching them through hazy eyes and heavy eyelids, wei ying left wen ning's dick with a pop and a sly smile. wen ning looked down at wei ying with a mixture of disappointment and confusion, part of him feeling as if he'd done something wrong. wei ying was quick to soothe his fears, a simple "didn't want you to come again" squashing his previous anxieties. "lan zhan, do you want to prep him or shall i?" he asked playfully, dipping a finger into wen ning's bellybutton and kissing down one of his thighs.

without hesitation, lan zhan lifted his head from wen ning, moving towards wei ying as if to push him out of the way. wen ning watched the exchange carefully, lan zhan shoving wei ying's shoulder to get him to move from between wen ning's legs. wei ying smiling brightly, as if lan zhan shoving him made his world go round. that same feeling from before bubbled in wen ning's stomach and he let his back fall to the bed in thought. before, he definitely would've felt jealous of lan zhan's ability to make wei ying smile like that, so why wasn't he jealous now? had so many years of repression made him loose his sense of jealousy? but he was able to feel happy so he felt like his emotions were okay. if he could feel jealousy and he just wasn't, maybe it had to do with lan zhan? but what about lan zhan? wen ning looked down towards his feet to see both of the other men staring at him, as if waiting for something. "sorry?"

"are you okay with this?" lan zhan asked in that same monotone voice that he always sported, the one that was monotone until you truly knew him. once you broke through the wall that lan zhan had so statistically set up, there was layer after layer to his voice, as if it was encoded with emotions. he sounded eager but caring, like he'd do anything wen ning asked him to. wen ning's eyes widened at the realization that lan zhan actually cared about him, panic and confusion and vulnerability rising in his chest. "i won't if you're not–" lan zhan started when seeing wen ning's panicked expression but was interrupted by the man throwing himself into his arms.

"oh, lan zhan!" wen ning blubbered, rubbing his face all over lan zhan's neck and falling into his lap. "lan zhan i'm so sorry, i never meant to hurt you. i'm sorry for leaving you in pain for so long, i should've come when wei ying wasn't able to." lan zhan froze at the mention of all the years spent without wei ying, the person who was meant to be by his side, but melted when wen ning continued. "i'm sorry i let you suffer alone, it wasn't fair. i care about wei ying so much and by extension i must care about you. in the beginning it felt like a burden, an obligation that i had no choice but to indulge in. but lan zhan, i know better now! i never want to leave your side again, please don't make me leave." wen ning rambled on before finally breaking down into a weeping mess, collapsing against lan zhan's chest. he wasn't honestly sure what all he had said but he knew that whatever it was, it was the truth. he wanted to hold lan zhan close and never let go, exactly like he wanted to do to wei ying.

a calm hand combed through wen ning's hair in comfort, another scratching softly up and down his back. "care about wen ning too. can't leave," lan zhan finally said, more a statement than a request. but that's all wen ning wanted, needed. he needed lan zhan to tell him to stay, to make him stay. wei ying hummed in agreement from behind wen ning's collapsed build, trailing finger nails over wen ning's sensitive skin. "would you like to stop?" he asked lightly, massaging wen ning's scalp. after a sniffle and a shift, wen ning was sitting back on lan zhan's thighs and glancing at him from under wet eyelashes. he shook his head viciously, shyly taking lan zhan's unoccupied hand and leading it toward his entrance.

carefully pulling him back, wei ying helped get the trembling man situated on the bed for lan zhan, a pillow tucked underneath his hips and another behind his neck so it wouldn't become sore from looking up at them. after close consideration, wei ying decided to help coax and explain wen ning through the whole thing instead of directly taking part, something which wen ning was rather thankful for. his body felt like it was humming with a high, everything becoming almost microscopic and macroscopic at the same time. he felt every twitch, every breath, every dust particle to a magnified level, but he wondered if it just felt so magnified because he spent years unable to even feel his own hand against wei ying's heart.

though the humming continued, the nerves stopped as lan zhan looked down at wen ning with a gentle expression and a light smile on his lips. suddenly wen ning felt invincible. he nodded enthusiastically as lan zhan dipped a lubricant coated finger into him, resting his head against one of wei ying's thighs from where he was placed behind him. at some point lan zhan had obtained a small vile of clear lubricant, wanting to be as careful with wen ning as possible. his face screwed up at the unfamiliar sensation, though it wasn't painful. lan zhan pumped his finger in and out of his hole, creating a steady rhythm that wei ying caught himself tapping onto wen ning's skin. an almost inaudible gasp left wen ning's mouth when lan zhan hooked a second fingertip along his rim, slowly pushing in beside the first digit as to not cause wen ning any unnecessary pain. wen ning found himself wondering for a moment how this would've felt if they'd done it when he was still completely a corpse. would he have been able to feel that slight intrusion, the slight burn when lan zhan sunk two fingers inside of him? would he feel the catch of lan zhan's second knuckle as it breached his entrance, the scratch of calloused but smooth hands on his walls? or would it just feel numb like everything else? maybe it would've been different since it was lan zhan, who always had a way of making him feel things even if he wasn't supposed to. he wasn't exactly sure what things he had been feeling, anyway, but he knew that this was so much better.

slender fingers pushed into wen ning, spreading slightly to create space between them. a hand came to fall on his stomach, tracing nothings on his abdomen just a fraction too close to his dick. after his momentary meltdown his hardness had disappeared, but the way lan zhan looked so concentrated on what he was doing, the way his brows furrowed and his lips quivered and his fingers worked was enough to make wen ning release a breathy moan and cause his dick to stir. lan zhan looked up because he hadn't exactly done anything moan worthy, but wen ning had one of his lips between his teeth and his head thrown back into wei ying's lap (who looked pleased enough as it was) and lan zhan felt as if all the air was forced from his lungs like a person stepping on a balloon. he twisted his two fingers together and pushed a third one in beside them, pulling a string of moans from wen ning's throat.

peppering kisses up his neck and shoulders, wei ying whispered encouragements and reached down to toy with one of wen ning's nipples, attempting to drag his mind away from the unfamiliar sting. he caught lan zhan's gaze from where he leaned over wen ning and let out a soft moan, lan zhan's eyes burning into him with lust. if his blood could freeze over right then, it would've. wen ning reached a hand up and threaded it through the hair close to wei ying's scalp, gripping the silky white sheets with his other. instinctively he wrapped a leg around lan zhan's waist, pulling him closer and forcing his fingers deeper. when lan zhan fucked his fingers up at just the right angle, wen ning felt his throat constrict and his back arch, letting out a strangled scream as his eyes rolled back into his head and stars decorated his vision.

all at once, lan zhan pulled out of him and wen ning whined at the loss. his hole gaped and clenched at nothing, searching for something to replace the digits. lan zhan climbed fully onto the bed from his previous position, spreading wen ning's legs and situating himself flesh against wen ning's hips. he could feel lan zhan's erection brushing against his entrance and he sighed in exasperation and need, glancing down at the man between his thighs. he was expecting a heavy, dark gaze but was caught shockingly off guard by a caring one instead (of course in addition to the arousal that he couldn't completely wipe away). lan zhan reached forward to fix the pillow under wen ning's hips, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

though wen ning had spent the last 16 years as an emotionless, painless corpse, lan zhan had caught himself being more watchful of wen ning recently. it probably started when the prolonged stares did, whispers from his juniors arising when he spent just a millisecond too long gazing at the other. he would always have to punish them for it, even if he felt no actual offense. it's not as if some of them weren't right, anyway. nonetheless, it was still against the lan clan's rules to gossip behind one's back, especially hanguang-jun, so he did what he had to. one of the boys, zizhen, had directly asked him if wen ning could feel some things now because of second young master lan's sudden attentiveness. this had given the other juniors a fright, they never expected zizhen to actually go up to hanguang-jun and say something. lan wangji simply shook his head in response and departed from the group of adolescent, though he thought about that conversation frequently.

now that wen ning could feel some things, lan zhan found himself even more mindful than before. he didn't want wen ning hurt or uncomfortable or unsure. "okay?" he asked, placing an open palm on wen ning's thigh and tracing circles into it. wen ning nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. wei ying took the opportunity to connect their lips, letting wen ning's tongue trail into his mouth and sucking on it eagerly. lan zhan watched with fascination before remembering what he was supposed to be doing. he spread wen ning's ass open and lined his head up to wen ning's entrance, ever so slowly sinking himself in. wen ning involuntarily clenched, making lan zhan hiss at the pressure around his dick. untangling their lips, wei ying lowered his head to whisper in wen ning's ear, "you've got to relax, my love." the last two words caused wen ning's eyes to shoot open, connecting with a fixated lan zhan. he felt his body flush at the realization that lan zhan's heavy gaze was trained so intensely on his entrance, eagerly sucking in his cock. heat spread up his chest and color his neck in pretty blotches that wei ying kissed endearingly.

"you're so beautiful, you're doing amazing. just try to relax, a-ning, lan-er gege's going to make you feel so good." wei ying rambled between kisses, sometimes taking a moment to roll a piece of wen ning's skin between his teeth and create a deep purple blossom. wen ning let wei ying's voice settle over him in a blanket of comfort, allowing his eyes to grow hazy and the push of lan zhan becoming a dull ache. once flesh against wen ning, lan zhan splayed his fingers in an open arrangement and squished the skin of wen ning's thigh in his hand, satisfied as a red hand print began to form. he dipped a hand under wen ning's ass and drew him closer, wen ning circling lan zhan's hips with his legs in response. a hum left lan zhan's throat and he drew back to the point of barely having his head inside wen ning's rim before sinking back inside, quicker than before. wen ning pushed back against wei ying's chest, the top of his head brushing against the other. he could see out of his peripheral vision that wei ying had a hand wrapped around his dick, lazily stroking himself while planting kisses on wen ning's collarbone.

at the sight of lan zhan's furrowed brow and wei ying's swollen, leaking cock, wen ning let out a breathy moan and shuttered, tightening his grip around lan zhan. lan zhan complied to wen ning's coaxing, leaning down over his body completely and placing his hands beside either side of wen ning's head. his hair fell eloquently in cascading waterfalls, tickling wen ning's cheeks. the new position caused lan zhan to sink deeper as he snapped his hips up, finally giving into his arousal. steadily he created a rhythm, wen ning's body bouncing up and hitting wei ying's chest with every one of lan zhan's thrusts. the headboard slammed against the wall and wen ning withered on lan zhan's cock, rolling his hips up on instinct to meet lan zhan. his legs continued to tighten around lan zhan's waist in a bruising grip, but it just spurred lan zhan on more, making his hips roll faster and snap rougher. wen ning's own dick slid between them, a new layer of precum and wei ying's left over saliva causing a wet squelch every time he was rocked into come from between his stomach and his ass.

after a moment of searching, lan zhan guided his hips up in the angle that had previously made wen ning react so violently. lan zhan simply brushed the bundle of nerves at first, making wen ning's mouth fall slack and hands shoot up to tangle in lan zhan's hair. confirming the spot, lan zhan pulled all the way out before bottoming into wen ning's trembling sensitivity. long overdue, wen ning let out a heartfelt scream and scrambled to find purchase, clawing at lan zhan's back. this eyes rolled and a gurgle bubbled from his throat when lan zhan wrapped his arms around his back and lifted them into a sitting position, wei ying's chest now flush with wen ning's back.

the new position allowed lan zhan to set a bruising pace directly into wen ning's prostate, a low groan surfacing when wen ning scratched up his nape. wen ning bounced with lan zhan's hands on his thighs, pulling him up and letting him drop back down with the slap of skin on skin. tears brimmed wen ning's eyes as he ground onto lan zhan's cock, incoherent sentences falling from his lips. "lan zhan, fuck lan zhan, there. yes, lan zhan you're fucking me so well. you're so perfect, wei ying's so perfect. you're both so perfect," he babbled in time with lan zhan's thrusts, moans and whimpers crying out between words. wen ning could feel wei ying's hand speed up against his back, the quick rhythm identical to the excruciating pace lan zhan was slamming into him at.

all at once the feeling building up inside his core started to hit him, causing his back to arch and his head to fall back. lan zhan took the opportunity to push forward and connect his lips to wen ning's neck, teeth sinking into his warm skin in a place that wei ying's purple decor didn't occupy. wen ning sank one of his hands into lan zhan's shoulder and another into wei ying's hair, grinding down on lan zhan's cock for all that he was worth before finally letting himself spill over the edge. the corners of his vision went black as spots lit up the world, the sound of static taking over his head. the only other thing audible was wei ying's voice, far away and ineligible, but he let it soothe him. his body gave out and he collapsed completely against wei ying, letting everything go slack. a pressure against his lower back area continued for a moment before stilling, a warmth spreading up into him and pulsing out between his thighs after lan zhan pulled out. wei ying finished right before wen ning, milking himself through it as he bit down on wen ning's shoulder. then wen ning was crumpling in his arms and lan zhan was carefully exiting him.

silence blossomed between them and wei ying watched wen ning closely, his features unburdened and peaceful. he seemed asleep at first, but cracked open his eyes to greet the staring man above him with a blissed out smile. "a-ning, are you okay?" wei ying could hear himself ask, still not completely down from his high. lan zhan had gotten up to go find them something to clean up with, pride swelling in the pit of wei ying's stomach at how caring his husband was. wen ning nodded lazily, a genuine smile painting his features. for years wen ning had been left unable to smile, his limited muscle control being unallowing of such a small movement. now, though, wei ying couldn't even remember what wen ning was like for all those years. he felt like this wen ning, this smiling, ball of sunshine was all he had ever known. like the first time they met 16 years ago and wei ying knew he was beyond fucked.

lan zhan slipped back into the room, clicking the door shut behind him. wen ning stretched his body out, his torso laying on wei ying's thighs. wei ying scoffed but absentmindedly traced pictures on his skin, drawing transparent bunnies and flowers and ribbons. settling down beside the two, lan zhan cleaned up the starfish-positioned man, letting the damp cloth rub over wen ning's exposed inner thighs. he shivered at the sensation, the fabric's grooves sending chills up his spine. wen ning took a moment to bask in afterglow, lan zhan's steady hands pulling against his skin and wei ying's finger tips skimming ever so lightly across his chest. he realized that for the first time in 16 years: he was drowsy. the thought made a smile tighten his cheeks and he reached up to touch wei ying's face, just barely letting his fingers brush the man's cheekbones. when wei ying down at wen ning's face, wen ning felt his heart strings pull taunt, like the strings of lan zhan's qin. "thank you," he whispered, finally laying his hand completely on wei ying's cheek. "thank you," he repeated, his voice cracking this time. tears pooled in his eyes and blurred his vision but his smile never faltered.

wei ying's own eyes widened and he looked up at lan zhan, watching as his face contorted and pinched, almost as if he himself was trying to hold back tears. meeting wen ning's gaze once again, wei ying bent down and molded their lips together in an unspoken 'you're welcome.' wen ning's whole body seemed to relax then, years of tenseness slipping away. wei ying would gladly consume all of wen ning's worries and anxieties and tense muscles if he could, take away all the negativity from his life. he pulled his head back slightly, their lips still grazing over each other. "i'd do it over and over again if i had to." that short sentence was enough to make wen ning's face crumple in defeat, a sob escaping his throat once again. an arm wrapped around wei ying's neck and wen ning pulled him down on top of him, grasping for lan zhan with his free hand. without hesitating, lan zhan dipped down and let himself be held by the trembling man below him.

𑁍

eventually wen ning's breath evened out and his eyes drifted shut. they stayed like that for a while, lan zhan and wei ying squished together on top of wen ning's sleeping form. neither of them minded much, wen ning seemed content and that's all that mattered. the light outside faded and hues of purple mingled in the sky, a gentle breeze flowing in from the open window above their bed. none of them moved to close it, the faint voices from juniors at dinner floating through and mixing together in ineligible sentences.

a hand suddenly reached up and started stroking lan zhan's back, inwardly startling him but his expression remaining the same. wei ying's eyes were shut as well, but his breathing wasn't as deep as it would've been if he was asleep. not wanting to disturb wen ning, lan zhan made no effort to look up at his face to see if he was awake, but he supposed he didn't have to because of the unidentified hand. his fingers seemed to gravitate towards the scratch marks he had created during sex, following each of the lines until he found another one. then lan zhan felt a shift in the air and wen ning began to trace his scars from so long ago, the ones that never truly would go away. the ones etched into his skin as a constant reminder that he had put the man he loved before the people that loved him, and that would never be forgivable. wen ning felt lan zhan stiffen and stopped his wondering fingers, instead bringing his hand up to tangle in lan zhan's elegant flow of hair. wen ning thought he was the most beautiful like this, hair undone and loosely falling down his shoulders in pools of black silk, a constant pink tint dusting his cheeks, his eyes soft and delicate, his skin golden in the descending sun. wen ning could've spent forever like that, with them. everything felt right, like that was the conclusion his life was leading up to. "i love you," he felt himself saying.

the words swam between them, the air morphing and changing them to mean so many things when they met lan zhan's ears. this had been building up for so long, this unspoken phrase between them. it had felt forbidden in the beginning, an intangible feeling. they were just floating and existing around each other. lan zhan would breathe him in and wen ning would accept everything he could, at that time. but soon enough, gazes began to wonder and words became more careful. not even just for others, but for lan zhan and wen ning themselves. it felt right, too right, and they were set on not allowing themselves to have it. maybe out of guilt or obligation, they ignored everything they knew was there. unspoken, waiting to be acknowledged. and here it was. finally wedging itself so far into their minds that there was no where else for it to go besides out. "i love you too,"

"i love you too," lan zhan and wei ying said in unison, both looking up at wen ning. this, this was right, wen ning told himself. these two beautiful men looking up at him like he had hung the stars, constellations gleaming in their eyes. wen ning couldn't do anything but draw them close, as close as they could get, and hope with everything he had that this never disappeared. and somewhere inside of him, he thanked wen qing for giving him wei wuxian and lan wangji.

end notes: if you enjoyed this please go to the AO3 link and leave kudos and leave a like on this post! if you enjoyed my writing and have any questions/requests, dont be afraid to leave something either anonymously or not! thank you for reading <3 

[chapitre7]

Alexandria Chapter I

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Time Travel/Sci-Fi AU

Characterization is based on the drama

Canon does not exist. World building of the past is based on canon but none of the original events has transpired here;

Likewise, the future presented here is not our own;

Liberal use of cultivation;

Not actually any demonstration of science.

Read on AO3

“Have you always been alone? Did you ever have someone? Do you know what happened to you? Do you? Because I don’t. I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know. I look in the mirror and the only thing that I recognize are these eyes in this old man’s face. You know, sometimes I think I was either born too early or too late for my life. Maybe we’re both just relics.” – The Shape of Water, 2017, screenplay by Guillermo del Toro & Vanessa Taylor

   When they find him, he’s already thawing. The researchers try to preserve him the best they can, so they can catalog every last piece of him, the period of his clothes, the shape of his face, the age of the ice, running their numbers to estimate the years since his last breath. They presume he’s a corpse, making only the most plausible assumptions, but his skin is unmarred and his complexion is so peaceful, he looks safely asleep. He’s a jewel kept in a box, unearthed from the deep sea, as treasures ought to be, in the olden days.

 There’s a small feud to decide who will keep him and in what manner. Some want to maintain him exactly as he is, like a pinned butterfly, listing all the outside layers of his identity, file away all the details they can perceive and then showcase him to the community by the end of the semester. Others want to be gone with the ice so they can study his body, uncovering the mysteries of a past they have long lost, before keeping him suspended in time by their own terms. Endless conferences, heated discussions, and piles of paperwork so huge no one bothers to read later, they decide to compromise.

 When he takes his first breath in the new age, everyone around him gasps. The sound bounces around his skull, dark eyes widening at the white, all the overwhelming white of the room he’s in. There are needles on him, prickling like insects, and just one glance at the glass wall where countless bug eyes spy on him from behind their notes sends him on a spiral of hysteria, pulling at everything that intrudes him, the machines, the foreign feeling of the sheets, the bed itself, jumping and falling from his position before trained men run inside, hold him down and knock him out.

 The second time he opens his eyes, he’s alone. There’s no glass wall, no machine attached to him, no window, just him, the bed, a chair, and two closed doors. He glances down at himself and frowns, failing to recognize the robes he’s wearing. Even if it’s in a familiar style and fabric, the stitches confuse him, unlike anything his sister has ever learned and sewn upon his clothes. And unlike any of the inner robes he owned, these are piercingly white. Maybe he’s in the afterlife. He had imagined it differently.

 A sound comes from one of the doors, startling him, but it’s only a knock. He half expects them to swarm in again, the bugs, the monsters, and he’s not ready, not yet, he doesn’t know where his sword is and he’s light-headed and breathing too fast, breaking every rule his master has ever taught him, defenseless, useless.

 They don’t come in. He waits, catches his breath, a hand on his chest. There’s nothing for a while until the second knock comes, softer than the first, less like a thunder. He didn’t use to be scared of thunder; maybe that’s why.

 He tries to speak, but only a weak, pitiful sound comes out. It seems to be enough for whoever, or whatever, is waiting on the other side of the door. He tries to brace himself the best he can — he can still bite, if that’s what it takes —, but he’s wholly unprepared for the smiling man that walks into his room.

 The man is tall, jet-black hair gracefully combed sideways, much, much shorter than he was used to seeing. His eyes are clear, hiding in the crescent moon of his smile, but not threatening. He knows threatening; would be able to spot it from miles away, still remembers the crawling feeling of fingers holding him down as he screamed. The man wears white, just like he does, only it’s a different, foreign style of robes. Did he somehow end up in a different land, drifting along the icy waters of the north?

 When the man speaks, he feels like he’s still underwater, miles from the surface. He can’t understand a single sound the man is making and it’s unsettling, an emptiness burning inside of his stomach. He vaguely remembers a time when he had meant to leave, get away from everything and everyone, he did, but not like this, nothing like this. The man steps into the room, towards the bed, and he throws himself to the floor, wincing at the pain on his knees, unable to do anything but push himself as far away as possible using the strength of his arms.

 Looking over his shoulder, he notices the man’s smile fading away. He places a tray he hadn’t noticed before on the bed and speaks some more, but when he gets no response, he just sighs and moves back to the door, walking out and leaving the confused man to his panic and his disarray of thoughts.

 Eventually, he moves back to the bed. Too tired to climb back up, he settles for a sitting position, reaching for the bowl on the tray the man had brought in. There’s nothing particularly enticing about the smell of the soup but he brings the bowl to his lips and downs it almost instantly, like a dying man. He coughs, not really chewing the vegetables, but doesn’t stop until the bowl is clean and back on the tray. Where the nothingness had once been is now warmth and he feels a little better about it, because maybe, just maybe, he’s not in a place to be judged and punished for whatever misdeed. Maybe he’s alive, after all.

 He lets his eyes draw back and sleeps right there on the floor, until the smiling man returns, gives the tray away to men who don’t cross the threshold into the room, and puts him back on the bed, safe under the covers. He never notices it. Never even dreams, just listens, every once in a while, to the hums that must consist of a language, like the birds that once sang in the homeland of his childhood.

 ***

 The smiling man is the only one he sees for a while. He grows used to him, his harmless presence, as he brings him food, watches him as he eats, guides him to stand and walk and even teaches him how to use the adjoined bathroom with a series of simple gestures, before bowing politely and leaving. When he’s alone, he tries to speak to himself, and not too long after, he’s glad to hear his own voice again. For a while he was afraid he would forget what his voice sounded like, his memory a haze of misplaced images and sounds, unsure if he could trust the voice of his own thoughts. He’s safe, though. He dares to feel safe, if only briefly.

 He doesn’t have any concept of time, but he knows one day the smiling man brings a needle connected to a small vial. Before he can run away, the man raises a hand, a plea for patience, and inserts the needle in his own arm, drawing blood into the vial. It’s not a lot of blood, and there’s no harm or mess when he’s done. The man raises his eyebrows in question. There’s so little to lose in the small action that he yields when the man pulls another needle from his robes.

 The act is not as gentle as the man made it seem and he winces. The man seems apologetic and the grip he has on his arm is feather light to compensate. It’s over quickly, cleanly, the man giving him a small cotton ball to hold against the minuscule wound. After the man leaves, he stares at the little drop of blood on the cotton ball and wonders when, exactly, he’s going to start living again. Wherever he is, in what possible way, and under whose glare, peering at him from outside those four white walls.

 He falls asleep with his gaze fixed on the wall across from his bed, knowing they’re still there. Waiting for him, crushing him with their expectations.

 ***

 The man who walks into his room next is not smiling. And although his eyes are just as clear as the other’s, the bangs that frame his face are longer, and his features are softer, with a less striking bone structure. He’s definitely younger, but the resemblance is so strong that there’s no way the two men aren’t related.

 “Ah,” he says from the bed, apprehensive that there’s nothing in the man’s hands but a small notebook, and he’s not sure what to expect when he sits on the chair by the bed. The unknown, in that white world, is nothing but white fear.

 “How do you feel?”

 He perks up immediately, leaning forward, causing the man to lean back on instinct.

 “I can understand you!”

 The man nods, crossing his legs.

 “And you can understand me?”

 The man gives a shorter nod.

 “Yes, I speak your language.”

 “Oh, thank the heavens, I was afraid I was going to be lost in here forever.”

 He lets out a laugh that sounds as weak as it feels, but he’s speaking again just as the man is opening his mouth.

 “I’m Wei Ying! What’s your name?”

 “I’m...”

  He pauses, as if he’s been questioned about the meaning of the breaking dawn and the fall of dusk. Wei Ying waits, expectantly, because he can understand, at last, and maybe the world isn’t going to be so white anymore.

 “I’m Lan Zhan,” the man finally answers, after what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, testing, tasting the name.

 “Your turn.”

 “Huh?”

 “To answer. How do you feel?”

 “If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

 Lan Zhan looks up from his notes and Wei Ying feels like himself for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. Not scared, not cornered, not useless, but capable of speech again, something he had always been so naturally good at, and finally, finally he can attempt to turn the game board around, gain some ground, escape that terrifying prison of whispers.

 Only a noncommittal noise comes from Lan Zhan’s throat, and Wei Ying takes what he can get.

 “I feel well. I can finally walk, but not for long.”

 The man makes some notes, and Wei Ying, with fidgety fingers, adds, “It’d help if the food tasted better.”

 Lan Zhan’s strange brush seems to pause. In different circumstances, where he didn’t feel uneasy all the time, Wei Ying might have grinned.

 “What—”

 “No, it’s my turn. Where am I?”

  And when can I get out? is at the tip of his tongue.

 “You’re in a research facility.”

 Wei Ying frowns, fingers grasping at the sheets on his lap.

 “Why am I in a place of research? Why? Did something happen to me?”

 “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, and the cadence of his voice when he calls his name grounds him where he would otherwise fall. But he’s at the edge of the precipice, and hanging by a thread. “What do you remember?”

 “What...?”

 He remembers the cold. He remembers wandering far and leaving people behind, cities, villages, everyone. He doesn’t remember why. His head hurts. He remembers desolation, and a plethora of knowledge that had no outlet and no meaning. He remembers leaping. And the cold, taking over, surrounding, pulling him deep.

 “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls again, and he can hear himself, his own shallow breaths. “It’s okay. Ca—”

 Wei Ying snaps, slaps away the hand that he sees coming in his direction. Lan Zhan, who sported a professional look ever since he came through the door, has the grace to look taken aback.

 “Tell me,” Wei Ying speaks, and it’s a voice he didn’t know he still possessed. He wishes he had left it behind, wherever those memories were from. “What happened to me?”

 Lan Zhan straightens his jaw, leans back against his chair.

 “You’ve been asleep for over a thousand years.”

[boat-full-of-lotus-pods]

MDZS Chapter 97. “Sleeplessness” Part 8

Nowadays, Wei WuXian couldn’t do without Lan WangJi

Stepping into the room, Wei WuXian shut the door behind him. Leaning against the door frame, he waited until he heard Lan WangJi entering the other room and closing its door. Then, immediately, Wei WuXian slapped himself across the cheek.

He sat down heavily onto the bed and buried his burning face into his palms. After a while, his face was still burning hot, just like the rest of his body. Picking up the teapot from the table, he splashed himself over the head with cool water, but it was no use. Right now, his entire body smelled of Lan WangJi.

Wei WuXian knew that if he continued to stay here, he would keep thinking about Lan WangJi, who was merely a wall away from him, and he would keep thinking about the things they had done, getting no rest for the rest of the night. There was no way that he could spend the night here.

Pushing open the wooden window, he leaped onto the windowsill and sprang into the night. Light and nimble as a cat, he landed soundlessly on the street beneath the inn.

It was already late into the night and the streets were empty, perfect for Wei WuXian to sprint madly about by himself.

Upon passing the wall that Lan WangJi had vandalized in his drunken state, Wei WuXian came to a halt.

All across the wall were random doodles of rabbits, pheasants, and miniature faces. At the sight of them, Wei WuXian was once again reminded of the serious, attentive look on Lan WangJi’s face when he had drawn them, and how he had tugged at Wei WuXian to show him his masterpiece. Wei WuXian couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

A wave of overwhelming regret bloomed in his heart.

If only he hadn’t abandoned his self-control under the alcohol’s influence.

At least then he would still be huddled next to Lan WangJi on the bed right now, feigning sleepiness or actually falling into a deep slumber, pretending to be pure-hearted and simple-minded while shamelessly clinging onto Lan WangJi. Not like how he was now, restless and sleepless, madly dashing down the empty streets like a headless fly.

Reaching out, Wei WuXian’s hand caressed over the two kissing miniature figures on the wall, and reached the words ‘Lan WangJi of Gusu was here’. Those words needed to be erased. Before he started erasing them, stroke by stroke, he traced the name ‘Lan WangJi’ with the tip of his finger.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The more he traced, the harder it was to part with them.

Suddenly, he heard a series of coarse, scraping sounds in the middle of the night. Alarmed, Wei WuXian went around the corner and saw a figure clothed in black pressed against the wall. With a small file in hand, the person was attentively filing away the doodles on the wall.

Wei WuXian stared in silence, “...”

Wen Ning turned his head around. With his face covered in white powder, he asked, “Young Master, what brings you here?”

Wei WuXian asked back, “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Wei Ning replied, “I see that Young Master Lan has written quite a lot. If someone sees them tomorrow morning, it will probably cause them trouble. So I’ve started to erase some of them……” After a pause, he asked, confused, “Where is Young Master Lan?”

Wei WuXian lowered his head and replied, “He’s sleeping. I came out to walk around a bit.”

Sensing that something seemed wrong with him, Wen Ning stopped what he was doing and asked, “Young Master, did something happen?”

He took a few step towards Wei WuXian, and then, as if startled, Wen Ning abruptly took a few steps backward. Wei WuXian was startled too, asking, “What are you doing now?”

Wen Ning appeared to be frightened. Waving his hands, he hurriedly said, “Nothing nothing, nothing’s going on!”

Wei WuXian could tell right away that Wen Ning was being plagued by awkwardness. Glancing down, Wei WuXian saw the red imprints of fingers over his own wrist. They had been made when Lan WangJi had grabbed and pressed him down onto the bed. Lightly caressing his lips, Wei WuXian found them to still be swollen as well. Earlier, when he and Lan WangJi had been rolling senselessly on the bed and melting in each other’s arms, Lan WangJi had also bitten and gnawed at him numerous times, so there was no doubt that his neck was also looking quite colourful right now. If Wen Ning had blood in him, his face would definitely be bleeding red right now. Wei WuXian didn’t know what to say for himself either, spluttering, “You…… Ugh!”

Sitting down by the wall, Wei WuXian sighed, “I want a drink.”

Wen Ning immediately said, “I’ll go buy some.”

Wei WuXian called, “Come back! Where are you running to?”

Wen Ning turned back again, “To find some wine……”

Wei WuXian muttered, “You are so…… I was just thinking aloud. Were you really going to find some for me? You know you’re not actually my servant, right?”

Wen Ning admitted, “I know.”

Wei WuXian said, “Besides, do you have money?”

Wen Ning admitted, “No……”

Wei WuXian said, “See! I knew it!”

Wen Ning continued with admiration in his voice, “But Young Master Lan has a lot…… A lot of money…… It’s so nice.”

Sighing, Wei WuXian knocked the back of his head against the wall behind him a few times, then sighed multiple times before saying, “Forget it. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

Wen Ning was startled, “Why?”

Wei WuXian, “Alcohol ruins. I’m quitting.”

The corners of Wen Ning’s mouth twitched. Wei WuXian said, “What? You don’t believe me?”

Wen Ning mumbled very quietly, “No, nothing…… It’s just that, back in the days, didn’t Sister try everything she could think of yet still didn’t manage to make you quit……”

“Haha, haha,” Wei WuXian remembered now, “The only thing she thought of was poking holes in me with needles every two or three days, wasn’t it?”

Laughter ceasing, Wei WuXian suddenly asked, “Wen Ning, have you ever thought about what to do after all this chaos passes, after everything is over?”

Wen Ning paused, and then repeated after him, “What to do?”

There were already so few people left in this world who were still close to Wen Ning; even fewer were those who still recognized him. Wen Ning was never good at making decisions for himself or being decisive in general. When he wasn’t following after Wen Qing, he was following after Wei WuXian. Aside from following after others, it most likely never occurred to Wen Ning where else he should go; where else he could be. Wei WuXian had always hoped for Wen Ning to find his own path some day. But if he were to say it out loud, it would sound like he was driving Wen Ning away.

On second thought, here he was, going on Wen Ning not knowing where to go, but did Wei WuXian have any better ideas of his own? Originally, the thought had never even occurred to him because he was always with Lan WangJi, and thought it would be natural that they would continue to stick together. Always. Unchanging. But after tonight, his relationship with Lan WangJi might very well never return to the way it was. Yet, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just wander around the world on his own, roaming and drifting from place to place without Lan WangJi by his side.

However, a voice inside Wei WuXian told him plainly and clearly: You really couldn’t.

The bullshit nonsense that he had spewed at the Koi Tower days ago had come true. Nowadays, Wei WuXian couldn’t do without Lan WangJi.

Wei WuXian gave a long sigh. He spoke like a hopeless man, empty and dead inside, “I want a drink.”

The more his thoughts lingered, the more miserable he felt. In the end, all the pent up frustration in Wei WuXian crystalized into a flaming rage. Leaping to his feet, he said, “Fuck it. Wen Ning, let’s go!”

Wen Ning asked, “To where?”

Wei WuXian replied, “To find trouble!”

-

[estelwenadia]

Five Times Lan Wangji Carried Wei Wuxian on his Back, and One Time Wei Wuxian Returned the Favour (or Tried to)

I am Here. You are Safe Now.

1/5

Amidst the destruction and the fallen, amidst the plumes of smoke and still spilling blood, Wei Wuxian stood unmoving.

Lan Wangji struggled to rise, aching to get to his feet, to reach for Wei Wuxian, but his body refused to move no matter how fiercely he willed it to.

He could only watch, helpless as Wei Wuxian turned and limped away.

No, he would not allow Wei Wuxian to turn away from him again!

With a burst of renewed strength, Lan Wangji forced himself to his feet. Ignoring Brother's furious protests, Lan Wangji hurried after Wei Wuxian, drew him onto his back and stepped onto the waiting Bichen.

It frightened him, to feel how light Wei Wuxian was - how pliant, how weak.

"Get lost," Wei Wuxian whispered. "Get lost."

Lan Wangji's heart clenched painfully. He should not have allowed things to worsen like this. Even now Wei Wuxian was still thinking that Lan Wangji was his enemy, was out to capture him. "I am here, Wei Ying. You are safe now."

"Get lost."

For every "Get lost." Wei Wuxian had rasped, Lan Wangji steadfastly responded with a gentle "I am here, Wei Ying. You are safe now."

Day and night ceased to matter, when Lan Wangji held Wei Wuxian's hand in his, almost in an embrace as Lan Wangji kept transferring his waning spiritual energy to Wei Wuxian.

Even when his brother stormed into the cave along with thirty-three others, Lan Wangji still did not stop.

"Wangji."

But he had to. He had to keep Wei Wuxian safe. No matter what it took.

If he had to turn against his Sect and his brother, then so be it.

Lan Wangji squeezed Wei Wuxian's hand one last time, allowing his fingers to briefly caress Wei Wuxian's before finally, reluctantly, regretfully pulling away.

He rose to his feet, turned to face his Sect, and unsheathed Bichen.

I am here, Wei Ying. You are safe now.

2/5

It happened too fast, faster than Lan Wangji had anticipated.

One moment they were fleeing from enraged cultivators demanding Wei Wuxian's death, the next moment Jin Ling intercepted their path and suddenly he was pulling his sword out from Wei Wuxian's abdomen.

The gleaming blade turned crimson, dripping with blood.

Wei Wuxian's blood.

"Wei Ying!"

For one precious second Lan Wangji did not move, too arrested by the look of betrayal on Wei Wuxian's face.

As Wei Wuxian started to collapse, Lan Zhan darted forward and caught him in his arms.

Nearby, the cultivators were fast approaching them.

"Wei Ying, let's go."

Lan Wangji draped Wei Wuxian securely against his back, mounted Bichen and swiftly flew away from the ensuing chaos.

"Lan Zhan..."

Wei Wuxian's voice was weak, a hoarse rasp of pain.

"Lan Zhan..."

Please do not speak anymore, Lan Wangji despaired. Save your strength.

"Mn," was what he said instead, "I'm here."

I am here. You are safe now.

Lan Wangji kept whispering the same phrase, holding tightly onto Wei Wuxian's pale hand as he desperately transferred his waning spiritual energy, despite feeling how it was only sucked into an abyss of darkness.

I am here. You are safe now.

"... I remember now." Wei Wuxian gasped, pulling Lan Wangji away from his reverie.

"What did you remember?" Lan Wangji asked. Perhaps it was best to keep Wei Wuxian talking, keep him awake until they were safe.

"I remember now, Lan Zhan. Just like this... I... I really did carry you on my back."

Then Wei Wuxian's head dropped onto his shoulder, his arms went slack, his weight grew heavier in Lan Wangji's arms.

For the second time in his life, Lan Wangji had never felt an overwhelming fear such as this. He poured as much speed as he could into Bichen, urging Bichen to fly faster, trusting Wen Ning to deter their pursuers.

All this while, Lan Wangji could still feel Wei Wuxian's blood slowly drenching his robes and his fear of losing Wei Wuxian again was becoming even harder to suppress.

"Wangji! Over here!"

Brother.

This time, Brother was here to help.

I am here, Wei Ying. You are safe now.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 9

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Fēngmián & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Qǐrén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Yú Zǐyuān, Yínzhū, Jīnzhū, Lán Jǐngyí, Jiāng Fēngmián, Jiāng Yànlí, Lán Qǐrén, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Collective concern that Wei Ying's dream may have been a memory, and some healing.

Notes: This chapter gave me trouble. I wanted it to be in Lan QiRen’s POV, but also there’s stuff going on with Madam Yu. Both of them are growing. A friend of mine posted about QiRen’s abuse toward WangJi and XiChen, and she’s getting some hate over it. Was QiRen abusive? Yes. Was his abuse intentional? No, but that doesn’t negate the abuse. Abuse often isn’t intentional, but the effect is what matters lest we ignore the victim based on the good intentions of the abuser rather than the resulting trauma of the victim. And really, that’s a lot of what MDZS is about: the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and sometimes trying to be a good person and do good just isn’t enough. Life’s just not fair sometimes.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

-------------

Lan QiRen could only stare at the scene before him: his nephew, still asleep after mao shi in Wei Ying’s bed, with Wei Ying curled close and holding his hand. 

He closed his eyes, hoping perhaps he was simply hallucinating somehow, but the scene was still present when he opened them again.

XiChen was the one who acted first, rushing forward to wake his brother.

WangJi immediately rose, pulling his hand from Wei Ying’s, and bowed deeply and formally.

“WangJi apologizes for waking late, shufu. Wei Ying had a nightmare. It may not have been a dream, but a memory.”

Lan QiRen blinked. That absolutely explained the scene he’d entered to find: WangJi had of course comforted the child, as was proper.

“Why do you think it’s a memory?” XiChen asked.

WangJi glanced toward Wei Ying, who was still sleeping soundly, drooling slightly on his pillow, his arm outstretched, fingers curled as though still holding his hand.

“He dreamt of being surrounded by darkness, but it was alive and talking to him and hurting him. Resentful energy is dark, right, shufu?”

Lan QiRen felt like his blood had frozen. According to the reports the Jiang heir had gathered from disciples who witnessed the event, resentful energy had indeed surrounded the boy, and had absolutely caused harm. 

If Wei Ying had remembered the attack through a dream, he could answer many questions, perhaps including who had attacked him. But it could also be traumatizing for the boy.

This was a matter to take to Sect Leader Jiang and the healers immediately. 

He patted WangJi’s shoulder in praise, pleased when he didn’t shy away from the contact as he often did even when Lan QiRen was the one initiating.

“Thank you for telling me, WangJi. Your decision to comfort him is commendable and sleeping late was unavoidable as a result. Please dress. I need to inform Sect Leader Jiang and the healers.”

He didn’t wait for WangJi’s response, knowing his nephew would likely immediately move to comply. Instead he swept out of the infirmary. Lan QiRen knew Jiang FengMian was likely still asleep, but he would want to be informed of this without delay. 

With that in mind, he knocked at the door to the sect leader’s chambers, counting to a full minute before knocking again. After three rounds, Jiang FengMian opened the door, wearing a hastily donned outer robe, blinking at him blearily for a moment before his expression turned to concern.

“A-Ying?”

Lan QiRen was glad to get to the heart of the matter; Sect Leader Jiang knew there was only one reason he would wake him so early. 

“He had a nightmare, possibly about the attack. WangJi comforted him in the night, but you and the healers may wish to be there when he wakes today.”

FengMian’s expression retained the concern, while also becoming far more serious. Lan QiRen was aware that the investigation had stalled on the attack, and it had frustrated Madam Yu greatly. While traces of resentful energy—mere wisps, really—had been found on the training ground, there had been no way to track it. It seemed almost as if it had appeared from nowhere, as a curse from afar might.

But who would wish to curse an orphaned ten-year-old child?

“I will rouse Healer Kang and ZiYuan,” FengMian said. “And I’ll leave you to gather Healer Lan. Is A-Ying awake?”

Lan QiRen shook his head.

“When I left the infirmary, he was still sleeping.”

Jiang FengMian nods, retreating back into his quarters, undoubtedly to get dressed.

Within a kè, everyone was gathered in the infirmary, and one of the musicians was playing ‘Clarity’ on the guqin to ensure Wei Ying woke up calm. WangJi was sitting on the bed beside the boy, having resumed holding his hand.

Healer Lan cleared his throat softly.

“Young master Wei may be a little overwhelmed waking to find so many people here. Perhaps some of us can wait in the other room?”

“Usually when he wakes only myself and my nephews are here, starting lessons,” Lan QiRen offered. “We would have started by now, but…”

Yu ZiYuan sighed, and motioned to FengMian to vacate the room.

“Fine, but Healer Kang should stay, in case he wakes poorly. We still have no idea what that resentful energy is doing to his mind,” she ordered decisively. 

Though Lan QiRen privately thought Healer Lan had more experience with resentful energy injuries, which was why the Jiangs had sent for aid in the first place, he knew now was not the time to quibble over such details. 

The others retreat from the room, aside from the guqin player and the healer. WangJi’s body language made it clear he had no intention of leaving Wei Ying’s side, and Lan QiRen didn’t particularly feel like fighting him. He had no idea how WangJi had been woken in the night, nor how long it had taken for Wei Ying to calm down; for all he knew, the stubbornness was earned.

And so instead he and XiChen relocated cushions to the bedside, and Lan QiRen kept his voice lower than he usually did so as not to disturb Wei Ying’s slumber. He could hear conversation in the other part of the infirmary, as the others waited for the boy to wake, but ignored it.

Unfortunately, neither of his nephews were able to stay focused on the lesson, particularly WangJi, who was distracted by every small movement by Wei Ying. XiChen seemed lost in thought, his brow creasing in concern. Lan QiRen did his best to stay patient with them; under the circumstances, their distraction was hardly surprising.

Another kè passed before Wei Ying stirred, murmuring unintelligibly as he started to wake. WangJi immediately abandoned the lesson to move a bit closer and squeeze his hand to remind him of his presence. The guqin player faltered and stopped playing.

“Wei Ying?” WangJi called softly. 

The boy let out a small sound of protest at being awake, and Lan QiRen had to school a smile from his face at how undeniably cute it was. Wei Ying turned his head in the direction of WangJi’s voice, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Lan Zhan?” he murmured, the name slurred so much it almost sounded like ‘A-Zhan.’ “Morning?”

“Yes.”

Finally, Wei Ying opened his eyes, blinking at them blearily. His gaze drifted to the scrolls on the bed, then to Lan QiRen.

“This one apologizes for sleeping late and missing lessons, Lan-laoshi,” the boy said softly.

“It is fine,” Lan QiRen said, clearing his throat uncomfortably at the boy’s apology—it was unnecessary under the circumstances, and troubling for reasons he can’t quite articulate. “And understandable. WangJi said you had a nightmare.”

A ghost of fear flickered over Wei Ying’s face, and he nodded.

“From what WangJi said of it… The dream sounds like it could be about what happened before you fell ill. Do you feel up to recounting it for Sect Leader Jiang, Madam Yu, and the healers?”

Immediately, Lan QiRen knew he had said the wrong thing, had failed to temper his words, when the child crumpled.

“I d-don’t want it to be a memory,” the boy managed between gasping sobs.

Lan QiRen felt frozen, but the musician immediately picked up ‘Clarity’ again in an effort to calm the boy. Yu ZiYuan stalked by on the other side of the bed, leveling a scowl at him he knew he deserved. 

To his surprise, Madam Yu gathered the child in her arms and rubbed his back comfortingly. She had never struck Lan QiRen as a particularly nurturing woman, but clearly he had passed judgment on her unfairly. He resolved to copy Conduct three times for his ill thoughts on her character. 

“It may not be a memory, baobei,” she murmured. “We just want to make sure.”

Lan QiRen glanced at Jiang FengMian and found him looking at his wife in adoration. He wondered if, after all, his judgment had been correct, and these circumstances had brought about a change in Madam Yu. After all, it was well-known the two were not a love match, and other cultivators passed gossip about their fights around like fine wine. 

He would copy Conduct once while doing a handstand, he revised. 

Wei Ying kept hold of WangJi’s hand, clearly finding his presence a comfort, but he also clung to Madam Yu.

“It was scary, shenshen. I don’t want to remember any more.”

It took nearly half a shichen of gentle coaxing by Madam Yu and Jiang FengMian for Wei Ying to tell the details of his dream, one that sounded nothing like what was described in the disciples’ reports.

His dream was infinitely more horrifying than the reports Lan QiRen had read. 

Wei Ying had dreamt of being high in the air, someone telling him to look down, telling him he would never escape LuanZang Gang. Of falling and finding himself surrounded by a black fog in a place littered with broken tombstones and bones. The fog had called his name, had whispered to him and asked if he wanted revenge, had buffeted and hurt him. He’d felt the hilt of a sword, and tried to wave the fog away, but found a long bone in his hand instead. 

Then he found himself in the bed in the dark, uncertain where he was and terrified.

“Lan Zhan called my name, but I didn’t know if it was the dark. But then he lit a candle and I knew I was safe.”

The dream was disturbing, and it was a wonder they weren’t all that woken in the night by the child screaming in terror. Everyone knew of LuanZang Gang, the horrors that lurked in that dark place and the cultivators who tried to put the spirits there to rest but had never returned. The Wen clan had resorted to sealing it within wards which needed periodic strengthening, but rumor had it wisps of resentful energy leaked out and caused mayhem in Yiling sometimes. 

Lan QiRen could tell from WangJi’s expression, minute though it might be, that this was a more detailed version of the nightmare than he heard in the night. If his nephew had heard some of these details, perhaps he would have gotten no sleep at all. He had in the telling shifted closer to Wei Ying, looming as though he could protect him.

“Was it real?” Wei Ying demanded, still shaking and crying. “Is that what made me sick?”

“No, A-Ying,” Jiang FengMian answered. “You’re here with us now, so it couldn’t be a memory.”

Lan QiRen silently agreed with his assessment; had the boy been thrown into LuanZang Gang, he would be dead, possibly just another resentful soul in a sea of it. Maybe no longer a soul at all. He hoped Wei Ying didn’t catch that extra meaning in Sect Leader Jiang’s words.

The child sagged in relief, sobbing again against Madam Yu. She pursed her lips, her expression an odd mixture of horror and relief.

“A-Xian,” she said softly, “your shushu found you in Yiling, which is where LuanZang Gang is. Probably you heard stories about it, and someone threatened to take you there before shushu found you. That’s probably what you remembered, and it turned into a nightmare.”

She sounded rather like she wished to find the person who would threaten a child with LuanZang Gang and use zidian on them. She sounds possessive, as though she has claimed Wei Ying as hers.

Sect Leader Jiang cupped the boy’s cheek in his hand, waiting until Wei Ying looked at him to speak.

“Your shenshen and I will protect you, I promise. No one is allowed to threaten you like that ever again.”

Wei Ying nodded, hiccupping.

“I’m sorry for troubling you, shushu, shenshen.”

Madam Yu clicked her tongue at him, hugging him tighter briefly.

“You silly boy. You needn’t worry about that,” she told him.

“We would be more troubled if you didn’t let us know when you’re upset, a-Ying,” Sect Leader Jiang added.

“I just don’t want to be a bother,” Wei Ying murmured.

Lan QiRen realized abruptly what had been bothering him earlier; this child felt as though he was a burden. He couldn’t imagine such a thing being so ingrained that it would stay through amnesia, and no one had intimated that Wei Ying was a burden that he had seen. But the boy believed it nonetheless.

“Last night I told you to let us know if anything you remember upsets you,” Madam Yu said softly. “But you can let us know if anything upsets you. You needn’t suffer in silence. You can also tell a-Li and a-Cheng.”

“Wei Ying can tell me, too,” WangJi said earnestly.

Lan QiRen nodded his approval, and Jiang FengMian favored the boy with a smile.

“You can tell any of us, a-Ying,” the sect leader said.

Madam Yu deposited Wei WuXian next to WangJi but continued to rub his back comfortingly. He immediately latched onto the boy, who didn’t protest, enduring the smaller child’s clinginess without complaint. WangJi generally eschewed touch, and young Wei Ying was the first he had opened to outside his family, particularly since the death of his mother. This friendship could improve his social skills.

“Children are never a bother,” Lan QiRen offered after a moment, not sure whether it was his place to say so but knowing his nephews could also benefit from the words. “I would want WangJi and XiChen to feel comfortable coming to me if they are upset as well.”

When the boys both blinked at him, their expressions briefly startled but quickly schooled into blankness, he wondered if he had failed them in this regard. He remembered WangJi’s stubbornness in returning to his mother’s house and kneeling to wait for her every month as though she hadn’t died, and he thought perhaps he could have handled it with more patience and grace. Certainly, the principles stated that one should not grieve in excess, but what was excess but a subjective idea?

It was an uncomfortable realization, that his nephews might feel they must hide their feelings from him. They, like young Wei WuXian, were essentially orphans, having lost their mother young and rarely seeing their secluded father. They may not have lost their memories like this child, but they had their own trauma.

And yet, even in the midst of his grief, WangJi had given his late mother’s rattle drum to a homeless Wei Ying in an alley in Yiling, willingly parting with a precious object for the benefit of a stranger in an act of charity and compassion. 

Perhaps he was too hard on them.

He sighed softly, knowing he would need to meditate on these thoughts. 

“I believe perhaps we should suspend lessons for today,” Lan QiRen said finally. “After this, a day of rest and leisure is in order.”

As his nephews looked at him in shock again, Jiang FengMian smiled.

“I believe your nephews have only visited town once since arriving. I’m sure a-Li and a-Cheng would be happy to accompany them and a-Ying—assuming he is cleared with the healers.”

Healers Lan and Kang glanced at each other, engaging in silent conversation briefly.

“Perhaps an adult should accompany them, in case young master Wei tires, but otherwise he is healthy enough for a small excursion,” the Jiang healer finally said. 

“FengMian, I think it would be best if you accompany them,” Madam Yu stated. “You could use a day off, and you’ve stayed in Lotus Cove so much lately, the townspeople might not remember what you look like.”

The smile Jiang FengMian leveled at her could best be described as coquettish, and Lan QiRen suddenly felt as though he was intruding on a private moment. 

“And would my lady wife care to join us on this excursion?”

A blush spread across Madam Yu’s cheeks and the harsh angles of her face softened when she smiled, making her look a bit like a maiden instead of the imposing woman she was. She offered him her hand, and he took it.

“Certainly, my lord.”

It came out as almost a purr, and Lan QiRen could feel his face heating at the blatant shamelessness of it.

He decided he should also copy Virtue. Twice.