Lan Wangji had been happy before in his life, of course he had.
He had been happy each and every time he visited his mother no matter how short or how infrequent the visits. He had been happy learning to play the qin, even when he struggled it always brought a rush of happiness. He had been happy to feel the first flickers of his golden core, months after he had started his formal cultivation training. He had been happy each time his Uncle was proud of him and when his brother and he would play the finger games their mother had taught them. He had been happy when he received two mischievous rabbits from a certain guest disciple.
And then, for a while, he had felt great grief with no joy interspersed. There were moments of contentment and moments of peace then, but not true happiness.
Lan Wangji had known happiness again after the war, after the greatest of his griefs, after he had isolated himself to the terms set by his elders and emerged father to a little boy with mischievous eyes and a kind smile.
He had never known happiness like this.
He wanted to leap into the air or beat his chest. He was so full of joy that his stomach was tying itself into knots over and over again. He could barely breathe.
He glanced over his shoulder to find Wei Wuxian already gazing down at him from his perch atop his donkey with soft adoration in his eyes.
“Why does my husband look at me so sweetly,” Wei Wuxian asked, a teasing grin on his lips.
Lan Wangji could weep, he was so happy.
“Because my husband is beautiful.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile sweetened until it was spun sugar.
“Your husband,” Wei Wuxian sighed before trailing a hand down to brush a thumb over Lan Wangji’s temple.
“Your husband,” Lan Wangji repeated.
Lan Wangji had never felt such joy, but he knew he would feel it again.
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