My gift for @theownerofshuanghua0518 , via the @wangxiangiftexchange - here’s their gift post about it.
One of the prompts I’ve received was “fluff”, so my mind wandered to a fluffy cosy warm winter morning - you know, sharing a blanket with a loved one, still in pajamas, watching the sunrise.
And I got so caught-up in deadlines that I promptly forgot to add a caption. *facepamls* I hope you’re able to enjoy this winter season, in spite of what’s going on in the world right now, and wish you nothing but happiness to come. :D
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It all came to an unexpected head at Nightless City in what would be the last time he would ever lay eyes on Wei Wuxian as he was then. At first he ignored the sudden and inexplicable easing of pressure and tightness in his chest in the vain hope that the other man was still alive, had somehow survived the fall, but his body knew better and his arrival at the Burial Mounds again confirmed Lan Wangji’s worst fears.
Written for the https://wangxiangiftexchange.tumblr.com/ as part of the Winter Solstice Gift exchange. First attempt at writing something for The Untamed Fandom without my co-author @hannah-writes!
Flowers Sprinkled With Blood/Blood Sprinkled With Flower Petals
It was nothing but pure coincidence that found Lan Qiren exiting the library right at the moment his punished nephew erupted in a violent coughing fit. Naturally, if he had just heard him without bearing witness or given himself a moment to reflect about it before taking action—if it was any other disciple than his younger nephew—and perhaps even him, if he was even slightly less rattled—he would have simply recommended at the punished party to visit the physicians once his disciplinary action was done and moved on… However it was Wangji and he found himself rooted on the spot.
He was right to be concerned, what he had taken as a mere coughing fit (Wangji had still managed to remain in position, the disciplinary rods not lowered a single cun) continued for long moments, Wangji’s sternum—his whole body—shook like a leaf, hoarse sounds turning wetter and wetter….
—Wangji who hasn't been sick not even a single day in his life—not even as tiny A-Zhan, who spent hours upon hours kneeling outside his late mother’s door, in the snow and heavy rain, without even the help of a formed golden core to sustain him--
…until—Heavens!—it culminated in a final fit with blood spraying forth, painting his nephew’s mouth and chin, even failing down on his robes…
That was it, Lan Qiren had enough.
He wasn’t going to stay still while Wangji suffered a Qi deviation.
Qiren couldn’t stand even thinking about it; he grabbed his nephew’s wrist — not a major imbalance on the Qi flow but not quite normal either — and he took to racewalking towards the infirmary. Wangji, being aghast either by the sudden malaise or his own atypical reaction, didn’t put up any fight. He followed him dazetly, even submissively, and that terrified Lan Qiren most of all……
“Find the Sect Leader and tell him he’s needed at the infirmary,” he all but barked at the first disciple he found on the way.
“Shufu!?” Wangji sounded utterly scandalized and almost openly irritated, far closer to a normal state than his dazed spell, which made Qiren’s own breathing ease the tiniest bit. They were going to deal with the problem, whatever it was.
It was only after they reached the infirmary that Qiren got a closer look at the bloodstains on his nephew’s robes that he took an even greater shock. It wasn’t just blood that sullied A-Zhan’s pristine robes, some of the reds were actually flower petals, flower petals from red lotuses if his eyes weren’t mistaking him, to be exact. Qiren froze.
“Wangji!” Xichen had found them just in time to be equally horrified, the risk of a Qi deviation, even small, was bad enough—this was something worse.
It wasn’t a story they would ever willingly share outside their clan but every single Lan by blood had heard about it as a child, as something between a cautionary and a fairy tale, why they needed to restrain themselves for all their propensity for love. Why love without measure could be deadly for them….
—How Lan Bai, courtesy name Biming, fourth son to Lan An (and the most spoiled) grew restless and wanderlusting in his longing to meet his own fated one and had left the newly built Cloud Recesses to find her.
How he had traveled all over the world, even down to Dongying, how he had met a Dongying Samurai girl and had loved her with his entire being but she was engaged and he left to not dishonor her. How he returned in Cloud Recesses deadly sick and spewing flowers, utterly expecting to die from it.
(Healers, then and now, couldn’t find neither an explanation nor cure)
How Matsumoto Ichika couldn’t accept this and had thrown her honor to follow him home, dodging her father’s wrathful retainers and traveling millions of Li to be with Lan Biming—her a woman alone even with her high education and her form of cultivation, it was a miracle that she —indeed— found him even belatedly as she did.
How she had found Lan Biming, nearly three years later, right at the death’s door and had thrown herself at his feet, how the man with the destroyed lungs and squashed heart—surviving so long only due his golden core—had become able to breath good as new not even a month after their reunion — the physicians not finding even a trace of the cursed flowers in his lungs or bloodstream.
How the cursed affliction (not exactly a curse for no cultivator nor healer in all their generations had been able to deal with it as such) kept reappearing every few generations and taking its toll, for not everyone had been lucky like Lan Biming. For some—very few, Thank Heavens—it had been nothing more than a lingering excruciating death.
Lan Qiren glanced towards Lan Xichen and his nephew did the same with something like pleading, both looking away almost at once. They were both all too well aware of the stakes as well the recipient to say a single word. Wangji was now with healer Lan Baozhai, and they were going to have a time estimation at least.
Neither had Wangji said a single word, either in sorrow or with shame, but he had met his eyes without shame almost in pure defiance-—-looking for once exactly like his father, when he presented the bloodied gentian to the elders, when they had come for that woman’s head.
(Qiren had been as shaken as the rest of them, back then, but his opinion had changed over the years. —Mere acceptance had never been enough to apeace the affliction, there were at least three separate cases that had died a scant few years after their wedding, it had to be wholehearted love or nothing else, and it was all but apparent that that woman loathed his brother to her dying day. More to the point his foolish brother had supposedly lived with this all nine years of their marriage—and ten after—. For all his incredible cultivation there was no way he would have survived that long if he had indeed had the affliction, he had deceived them all to save her life)
Lan Qiren would have suspected that his equally foolish and passionate nephew would have tried to pull the same trick to save Wei Wuxian but no, even if he hadn’t been a witness to this, Wangji—his little A-Zhan—wasn’t capable for such a deception.
Xichen’s heart trembled in his chest and it took every single scrap of his discipline to not allow the trembling to show on his hands. His baby brother was dying.
His baby brother was dying from love, it may not happen today or tomorrow or maybe not for a few years, but it was going to happen all the same. The only thing capable of stopping it was if Wangji was loved by Wei Wuxian.
Lan Xichen had very mixed feelings towards Wei Wuxian.
In the early days, when he was here for lessons, he quite liked the spirited boy, primarily for all those feelings he had inspired to his brother—as well pulling him out of his shell (Xichen was always going to feel grateful for that)—as well generally enjoying his mischievous nature, maybe a tad too mischievous for Cloud Recessess, but enjoyable none the less….
War reshaped everyone, most of all Wei Wuxian.
Lan Xichen was never going to tell anyone, not even his sword brothers — and definitely never Wangji — but there was something like atavistic terror inside him every time he saw Wei Wuxian bring his demon flute to his lips, every time he saw him totally devastate a battle….He wasn’t going to forget what he had seen not even if he wanted (and he wanted it, desperately) .
—and that was the man that his brother loved…
Wangji insisted that for all the harsher temperament Wei Wuxian—his Wei Ying (even if had far too much decorum to call him so in front of him) — remained very much the same person. Xichen himself had seen enough, even right before everything blew up, to recognise a great deal of truth to this.
So, Wangji’s wish to bring Wei Wuxian in Cloud Recesses to protect him and cure him from his resentful energy addiction was concerning but very acceptable to him, both for brother’s happiness (always his first concern) and as a chance to peacefully correct a source of corruption before things escalated (what should have been his first concern).
But now the stakes were very different, it wasn’t just A-Zhan’s happiness but his very life. The question whether Wei Wuxian could love—or learn to love—Lan Wangji became of the essence not merely an ideal solution.
Xichen was ashamed to admit—though not regretful—that if it actually came to this he cared infinitely more whether his brother lived or not than whether Wei Wuxian ever deigned to return at the righteous path or not, it was utterly inconsequential to him at this point.
Their uncle may see things differently, even believing that Wei Wuxian was already lost to them and irredeemable, making even attempting it an insult to Wangji’s dignity but Xichen himself didn’t care. It was hypocritical and despicable but he really didn’t.
So what if Wei Wuxian refused to take up again the sword, he himself had seen his face light up like the sun at the mere idea to see Wangji and it was only due his own insistence to return on the righteous path that had seen all that warmith extinguished. He would have gone for very different choices just now.
So what if the dead Jin soldiers from the Qiongqi Path were seeking their own justice, Xichen was regretful over what had befallen them but there was a good possibility their hands weren’t that clean in the first place. He believed A-Yao who had told him that from all the information he had it was a camp for Wens’ most powerful but he had also been there at the Banquet Wei Wuxian’s frantic worry and concern about Wen Ning had been nothing short of utterly genuine.
It was also equally established that Wen Ning ended up dead that night and no matter how many people had called Wei Wuxian unbalanced he frankly doubted the young Wen had died at his hands. More so, he had Wangji’s own witnessing that while Wen Ning was terrifyingly powerful, as a fierce corpse, Wei Wuxian’s work had restored him to his living sweet and timid personality and that was nothing short but the work of the most devoted friend.
Honestly while many people—Xichen among them—considered Wen Ning’s current existence a crime against very nature it wasn’t a crime he would wish rectifying, if the price was his brother’s life.
Wen Qing: while as far as Mingjue was concerned she had been Wen Ruohan’s enabler, allowing him to live and pursue the war, when he could have died years earlier, as well leading a Supervisory Office she was also more of a loving sister than a devoted Wen subject and she refrained from giving in the Jiang siblings during their time of need (or at least that he had gathered from Jiang Wanyin’s scant explanations) Mingjue didn’t consider it quite enough to buy clemency in light of her crimes but Mingjue could sit on it as far he was concerned…
There was still the matter of the Wen cultivators (Wangji had said he seen only old and civilians but it could simply be that Wei Wuxian didn’t allowed him to see them) and he couldn’t believe there were none—for what would be the point to have a work camp with old civilians, one must be insane from resentful energy—like Wen Ruohan had been, a monster.
—And whatever else may be called Jin Guangshan was very much sane.
No, it was far more in character to Wei Wuxian, twisted though he had become, to also take the infirm relatives to those he had already saved, that one he could believe.
There could still be problems if those liberated Wens were heavy war criminals and—according to A-Yao’s sources—that camp held the worst of the worse… Still, as far he was concerned, they could be all that and he was still willing to take the fail, if it came to this. They could even be among those that had burned Cloud Recesses and he was still going to demand clemency on their behalf. Wens had taken from him more things that he cared to count they—alive or dead—weren’t going to take Wangji as well.
He would rather spit blood himself and be shamed, or answer to their ancestors, than bury his brother.
Lan Wangji allowed Lan daifu to examine him while his mind worked furiously in finding ways to deal with his condition.... He wasn’t truly surprised that this had happened to him, he was already aware that he loved Wei Ying well beyond measure, the only question of some note was: ‘Why now?’
The only answer he could come with this was the feeling of permanence that had settled in his soul the moment he saw Wei Ying with A-Yuan in his arms. Everything before, even their common oath, had some transience to it. For all the intensity of his feelings all they could be to each other, friends, comrades, even zhiji held peripheral places to their lives and nothing—not even the wild imagination that Wei Ying could someday respond to his feelings—looked like it could lead to their own personal road…
...And yet, everything changed that dusty day in Yiling, Wei Ying with that sweet little child in his arms that called his own culminated all his dreams, even those he hadn’t yet dared to make.
A child, a family with Wei Ying, a way for him to keep his oath to something that felt more than mere afterthought to the rest of his everyday life …
That frankly eventual day he had seen his future as he wanted—as he needed—it to be, not as it was already shaped.
It didn’t change anything, Wei Ying didn’t love him and all the same he regarded him too much, as his friend, to ask him to risk his own standing to help them. Wangji himself had done his best, from the position he was, and had talked with his brother.
For the first, and hopefully the last, time Xiongzang had utterly disappointed him. Firstly he had explained that this couldn’t officially concern Gusu Lan, it was a problem mainly concerning Yunmeng Jiang and Lanling Jin not anyone else. When Wangji had protested that all those people Lanling Jin made such a huge fuss about it were just a handful of old and infirm his brother had looked at him sadly and told him that it didn’t agree with his own report, he had probably not been allowed to see them…
Wangji had never felt such helpless resignation, sour bitterness had risen to his mouth (even more choking than the flower petals that now dominated his taste) and he had been unable to find his words, like he was facing a stranger and not his brother. Never before Xiongzang had treated him with such placid condescension, not even as a child, it was like his love for Wei Ying had transformed him in their eyes (his brother and uncle) to something less than himself, something feeble.
It hadn’t stopped him from trying, his attempts to talk on Wei Ying’s behalf had led to more and more punishments from his uncle (he didn’t mind) to more and more condescending and pitying looks from his brother (that he actually minded) but he kept insisting, he wasn’t going to stop—not for anything.
-—-And now this had come in his life. Wangji honestly didn’t want to deal with it, the mere thought that Wei Ying could learn of this, that he would some how blackmail Wei Ying to try and love him was more sickening than his family treating him like a feeble child, more sickening than the war and all its brutalities, the mere thought of it was unbearable.
But still, the poisonous thought was still there, the insidious whisper... That his impossible dream—all his dreams—were now within his grasp:
That if there was someone that could willingly change his very self to help a friend, if someone could fell in love with a friend to save their life that was Wei Ying, his heart was huge enough for it.
Wangji shuddered with revulsion like if Mara himself had whispered to his ear. He was Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji and he was better than this, his love for Wei Ying was better than this and he would rather throw himself at Bichen than rape him in whichever way…
But willing to ignore it or not the family affliction was here, affecting him, his days were now numbered. Maybe this will be enough for his family to give his words some consideration, maybe this will be a way to protect him— to protect them all —better than before. It wasn’t in his nature, nor had any wish to deceive, but his truths, His Truth, may be heard better this time.
If not... There were options for this as well, tradition was on his side. No one with Lan blood would ever think to censure him if he chose to spend the last of his days at his beloved’s side, in whichever capacity. He was Hanguang-jun, he had earned that title, his word held weight in the outside world he could lend that weight to Wei Ying. Hopefully it will be enough to keep him safe.
Maybe, if he and his family of choice were indeed out of danger, Wei Ying would feel safe enough to let go of the resentful path and return to the sword and outside of everyone’s censure and contempt. If he managed to accomplish this Wangji was going to go utterly content to his deathbed.
Wangji and the healer returned, Wangji looking far too serene for someone that had received the news he had, (not his usual calm but something far deeper) it filled Lan Qiren with terror.
“Wangji?” he asked with the kind of terror that sounded like anger.
“Wangji is sorry for worrying Shufu, Xiongzhang. Wangji is not to die today.” his dry voice wasn’t utterly without emotion, and even some actual regret, but Qiren still buried the urge to scream at him.
Only then Lan Baozhai stepped forward, in a normal day Qiren respected her medical knowledge and quite approved her unpresuming and reserved nature, right this moment her second quality was driving him up the wall.
“Well?” He nearly barked.
“Lan-er-gongzi knows his own body indeed, we are but in the start. His Qi may shape small amounts of his blood into lotus petals but there are no leaves no shoots and definitely no roots, all symptoms are nothing but Qi actualization at this point. With the right kind of diligent meditation he can keep the creation of growths for two, three, five years, maybe even more if the discipline he’s known about holds on…”
“Could it be...” Xichen sounded hesitant and not entirely heartened from the first kind of hopeful news they had heard since they stepped foot into the infirmary.
Wangji shook his head. “I’m sorry Xiongzhang,” his voice sounded so very, very gentle.
Xichen flinced.
Qiren himself felt like the walls were closing on him. Not Wangji, not his little, A-Zhan... His brother had attempted to be a father the first year of Xichen’s life, his little A-Huan and just as precious , but A-Zhan had been placed right in his hands from the very start he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, it was beyond him.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Xichen was now saying. “Only that it may have been brewing for years and was just slow in appearing,” a pause,
“I wouldn’t, I won’t ask you to live with it if there can be the natural solution.”
“I understand, brother.” From Wangji who guarded his words more than silver that was both appeasement and apology.
“So......” Xichen wore his professional smile, slightly forced but—to Qiren’s trained eye—definitely more genuinely warm than what he put on business.
“We need to reintegrate the Wens into cultivation society, maybe even give them refuge into Cloud Recesses.” in the last sentence his eldest nephew’s voice was utterly forced.
Qiren understood. While it was an utterly acceptable price compared to Wangji’s life (and even happiness) none of those present were ever going to forget and even less forgive the burning of Cloud Recesses...
Wangji definitely wouldn’t, he knew this, but...
...To have Wens here sounded very much like a sacrilege.
Wangji was regarding Xichen with his own version of understanding, patient stare.
“Non combatants, eldery, doctors,” Wangji was gently insisting, “None of these people hurt our home, Xiongzhang.”
Well, except Wen Qing who spied on them and very probably reported their defence arrays…. But to ask for her head was to incite the Yiling Patriarch’s rage, his friendship with the Wen siblings was an unassailable fact…
Definitely not worth the exchange with Wangji’s life...
Xichen looked ready to refute this, still incapable to believe that if it was so they would have prosecuted them in the first place, but Qiren sighed and shock his head.
Xichen may have been idealist but Qiren knew better: Jin Guangshan—and people like Jin Guangshan—would have done this just because they could.
‘But then, if you suspected this, even if just you considered him capable why did you keep silent when word of what happened in those camps came around? Where is your Righteousness?’ Qiren could practically hear those words in Wei Wuxian’s voice, his eyes—so much like hers—judging him.
Lan Qiren didn’t have an answer to this, not one that could be considered righteous in deed not just in word. It was the easy answer that the Wens had gone so far that whatever happened to them was automatically righteous, some part of him was viciously pleased with that answer.
So many of their youth had been cut down by the Wen, children that he had taught personally (to say nothing about his brother) nothing was ever going to make those deaths right. And yet, if he had to ponder this facing some kind of mirror, he would have never been able to claim the money the Jin Sect had donated for the restoration of his home had absolutely no bearing to his decision…
‘Coward!’ He could practically hear Wei Wuxian calling him so, practically seeing the characters shaped on his mouth, that same mouth smilingly mocking him... Sometimes he wondered if Wangji’s eyes also judged him...
Same, and even more complicated, about Wei Wuxian: he was just fifteen when he first spoke about controlling resentful energy and less than a year later he had executed it, it should have been an easy answer. What could have been more evil than disrespecting the dead, there shouldn’t have been any kind of question (Never mind that if he hadn’t done so, today, he and everyone he cared about would have been dead—and even more disrespected at Wen Ruohan’s hands) .
Wei Wuxian was still just fifteen the first time he addressed his younger nephew as his zhiji and Wangji didn’t refute it. Qiren could admit to himself, with slightly less self-hate, that he hated Wei Wuxian even more for this than his heretical ideas… ( Not entirely for the cut sleeve inclination, the insufferable boy was utterly blind to this even if his nephew wasn’t, though Qiren hated the possibility that his nephew could lose face in society for this…) If Wangji had found some shy and unpresumptuous disciple he believed he would have been all too happy to look aside)
But his boy had chosen Wei Wuxian and no one else. Brilliant and arrogant and compassionate Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian who burned from both ends, just like her. Qiren had spent every day since that fateful ‘zhiji’ terrified that he would see those bloody flower petals, terrified that even if his nephew weren't rebuffed he was still going to end up all alone, or dead alongside the other in somewhere or else… (That was how —she— and her husband had died after all)
He had been so relieved that Wangji was like him after all. Able to love, but never putting everything that mattered—the Sect namely—behind this.
He had seen the woman he loved choose another (one that he could make her happy in the way she wished, not society) walk away with that man and die at his side just a few scant years later, leaving behind not even a grave to mourn her there….
Qiren had his Sect, had his teachings, his duties—his very life as he choose it—and yet for all that he never spat a single bloody petal for her, wasn’t longing for her, not a single day had passed since her confirmed death that he didn’t spent a solitary moment wishing that she was somewhere else alive and well and happy even if he never got to see her face, or hear her mocking laugh again….
Wangji wasn’t him, as it looked right now he wasn’t even slightly like him.
However, he was one of the children he had raised, his prized student, his beloved nephew. It was only natural to wish for him at least everything he had achieved in his life and more, so much more. Genuine happiness not just contentment.
Wei Wuxian wasn’t Cangse Sanren either, but he had all her idealism and twice her craziness and arrogance. It wasn’t that he was afraid that he was going to have the same fate as his mother—a dazzling ……or terrifying…… firecracker, lighting or blinding and dying all too soon—it was that every day he was surprised that the boy yet lived and he hadn’t yet died in that corpse ridden mountain of his at some experiment……
To accept pairing together in his mind that pig with his prized cabbage is a painful stretch for him but much preferable to losing his nephew, even if he had to take the literal labor of keeping that boy alive. It was going to grate on his every nerve but He Will Do it.
But while he was distracted with settling all those ponderings inside him Wangji seemed to have taken a similar journey.
“Xiongzhang, shufu,” he started decisively, “I haven’t told you everything about those that live in the Burial Mounts with Wei Ying, beyond the eldery and the Wen siblings.” a pause.
“There is a little boy, an orphan, not even three that Wei Ying saved among his relatives. —and yes, I saw both A-Yuan and his grandmother that night, at Qiongqi Path. Later, I heard about a slightly older sister that died earlier.”
Wangji had clearly chosen each and every single word to a devastating effect, every word all but piercing them with its rage. It was equally clear how strong affection Wangji already held for that boy, it was the only good thing he could see.
Lan Qiren felt slapped and it was justified. He could hear once again Wei Wuxian’s cold mocking laughter…. ‘Coward, where is your righteousness?’ and he would have been right: For every child, Wen or not, that got tortured, that died in that horrible place the fault set on him and men like him. Men who believed that righteousness was above compassion.
But if he had been slapped Xichen had been crushed, not only because his elder nephew was more tenderhearted, but because the implication was clear. For Wangji to not say a word before it means that he didn’t believe his words were to be taken in confidence, even if they didn’t conclude in the desired result. It mean that he expected his words to reach Jin Guangyao’s ears at the very least if not someone’s more unsavory...
Qiren didn’t really blamed him for it, he had the experience to see exactly how it would have gone.: Some ignorant people may have seen it as the perfect way to resolve the conflict: A boy Wei Wuxian loved, here kidnap him, it's the perfect way to bring him to heel, but no, a single hair to hurt on that kid and it would have been a bloodbath. He had read way too many reports on what Wei Wuxian had done to those that hurt his family...
Heavens helped them all if the Jins ever learned about the existence of that little boy….
It was also a sign of ultimate trust that Wangji chose to confide in them about this matter, Xichen certainly took it as such.
He had a tiny breakdown but then he regarded his brother even warner.
“Wangji, I understand, I’m sorry for doubting you, I will do my very best to find the absolute truth then bring the guilty to justice, you have my word.”
Wangji unbended enough to reply.
“I trust you Xionzabg.”
—then, Xichen addressed him…:
“Shufu, we need to investigate what really happened, we must—we will—go at the Burial Mounts as possible.”
It wasn’t a question, or observation, it was an order from his Sect Leader. One that Lan Qiren was very happy and proud to obey. (Equally happy because Xichen was finding his footing at least)
“It will be as you say.” He saluted. Xichen blushed.
But Xichen was still Xichen, his way to get past such moments was to tease.
“So Wangji, I understood right that Wei-gongzi sees little A-Yuan as something like a son?”
Wangji was ecstatic enough and apparently had forgiven Xichen enough, that instead of blustering as usual he choose to play along. Ears scarlett he replied:
“The first time he officially introduced him to me Wei Ying told me that he had given birth to him with his own body...”
Xichen was delighted with this but Qiren suddenly wished for that huge nuisance to be there with them…. He was going to throw a book at his head-—-He was going to throw —all— the books to his shameless head…
Still, if everything went well, a tiny grandnephew………
-—Few days later—-
“How are things going Jiejie?” Wen Ning asked his sister after his lengthy patrol around their mountain.
Wen Qing was still ecstatic to have her brother back but something still itched at her, like the bite of a mosquito.
A-Yuan is still mopping that Lan-er-gongzi hadn’t returned and wei Wuxian mopes, even more, he has been stuck in his cave and hadn’t gone out even for food.
Suddenly Wen Ning went utterly still.
“Someone is right outside our wards.”
They both turned towards Wei Wuxian’s cave, the man himself was hurrying towards them.
“Two someones, we have two cultivators at our door.”
Here it is, my first hurt/comfort fic for this fandom! I really hope you like it, @alightbuthappypen!
Read On AO3
*****
hold me tight or don't
Lan Wangji was amazed.
There was no better way to put it. Of course he had heard that the feared Yiling Patriarch had made himself at home in the Burial Mounds, this dreadful place that reeked of death and was swarmed by crows and corpses. He had known that Wei Ying would not have an easy life after the scene at Qiongqi Path, but... the Burial Mounds? That anyone would survive, let alone live in this place, had been impossible to Lan Wangji's mind.
Then he had come to Yiling and, of course, how could it be different, Wei Ying had crossed his path. With a child in tow. A child.
Although Lan Wangji had not thought Wei Ying very responsible when they had first met, his opinion on him had changed drastically over time. Wei Ying possessed a strong sense of what was wrong and what was right, a strong sense of justice; he played by his own rules and cared little for what the sect leaders said and did. And so he had led the remaining Wens away from the prison camp and into the Burial Mounds. But that he should have taken a child to this horrid place... the reasoning behind this was beyond Lan Wangji.
Of course that was before he had seen the Burial Mounds, or rather what Wei Ying and the Wens had made of it. The Lan children had grown up with warnings and tales of the Burial Mounds, with them always being described as the most hostile place in the world where no living thing could survive for longer than a day.
Which led him to where he stood now.
Fear had been clouding his mind ever since Wei Ying had left him in the rain. He feared for Wei Ying, primarily, for his safety and health. But it appeared that his fears were entirely unreasonable: after they had passed through the woods made up by skeletons of trees and crossed the barriers Wei Ying had set up, Lan Wangji had found himself in a place like a small village. The caves in the jagged, black rocks had been made into what resembled houses pretty well. T, there were crops growing that Lan Wangji could not quite identify but, shockingly, they seemed to be thriving in the poisoned soil.
And the shocking occurrences for the day were not overm Of course, he had heard that the Yiling Patriarch had created a fierce corpse from Wen Ning, but that he had returned his conscience was unlike anything the cultivation world had ever thought possible. Wei Ying's new life seemed to be a success, if you left aside the fact that he was shunned by almost every sect of the cultivation world. And despite this heavy fate it stung Lan Wangji that he could no longer be part of Wei Ying's life.
The very Wei Ying that made his way through the village after leaving Wen Ning with his sister, certain that the fierce corpse would not lose control once again. Lan Wangji had passed the child, A-Yuan, to the old woman that seemed to be his primary caretaker and was now following Wei Ying into the largest cave that he had obviously made his own.
The black stone towered high above them and darkness swallowed up the sparse daylight the deeper they went into the cave. Lan Wangji shuddered unwillingly as he saw the pool that looked like fresh blood. Shadows seemed to be floating on its surface, swaying, vanishing, returning. His fear for Wei Ying was back, this time even stronger than before. Had he really given himself fully to demonic cultivation now? It was likely, and it ate Lan Wangji up from the inside.
"And proudly we present... the Blood Pool," Wei Ying said, gesturing towards the red water. Despite the heavy feeling in his heart, Lan Wangji had to suppress a smirk.
"You really named the pool that looks like blood Blood Pool," he said.
"Ridiculous."
He had called Wei Ying ridiculous so many times, and maybe this time was a desperate try to return to the feeling that had dominated over him back in the days when Wei Ying was a student at Cloud Recesses. The feeling that was, as he realized bitterly, irrevocably gone now. Because Wei Ying's face, instead of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and an outraged expression, only wore endless tiredness.
It felt as though there was nothing to say between them, and what should have been said threatened to remain unsaid.
"Why?" was the first thing Lan Wangji whispered. He had not intended for his voice to crack, but it did, and somehow it was ironic that the only person around whom he could lay down his stoic cover was the one responsible for his breaking.
For a moment, Wei Ying was silent, and Lan Wangji feared that he had not understood what he was talking about. But then he spoke, and his voice had shed the usual joyfulness to make room for the heartbreaking, tired emptiness that had defeated the spark in his eyes as well.
"Don't you see there was no other way?"
"There is always another way," Lan Wangji replied. He had caught himself, yet still there was the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice.
"Not for me," Wei Ying said and shook his head.
"Wen Ning and Wen Qing saved my life. Saved my bro- Jiang Cheng's life. How could I leave them to die by the hands of that damned Jin sect? There was nothing else I could have done."
"There would have been a way," Lan Wangji repeated stubbornly.
"There is nothing that cannot be resolved by reason."
"A prime example for that being Wen Ruohan," Wei Ying said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Reason brought us very far in the Sunshot Campaign. It will bring us just as far with Jin Guangshan."
"Are you comparing Jin Guangshan to Wen Ruohan?" Lan Wangi asked with disbelief.
Wei Ying shrugged.
"They're all the same," he said.
"I see that now. They are so fixed on their own profit and their own revenge that they are blinded by it. There is no way to reason with them."
It was not that Lan Wangji did not understand his point. On the contrary, he understood it very well, at least concerning Jin Guangshan. The man was not a very kindhearted one, that was for sure. But that was not his point at this very second. All he wanted to reach by trying to convince Wei Ying to return to the middle of the cultivation world was to have him back by his side. It was selfish, he knew, it was against the rules of the Lan sect, but he had never craved anything as badly as Wei Ying these past months. All he wanted was his lips on his lips again, his skin on his skin, his tight embraces and the way Lan Wangji could watch him sleep for hours because he never woke up before nine.
He loved Wei Ying so much that it hurt.
"You could at least have taken me with you," he whispered, trying to avoid the cracking of his voice.
"You would never have come here," Wei Ying replied sadly, gesturing around the cave.
"All of this... this is not your world. You are the Second Jade. You belong with your sect, in the cultivation world. You cannot be an outcast."
"You are my world," Lan Wangji said simply as he stepped towards Wei Ying and grasped his hand. Wei Ying's eyes widened slightly.
"There is nothing I would not give up for you."
Wei Ying breathed in with his eyes closed and shook his head, not meeting Lan Wangji's eyes.
"I cannot demand this from you. I cannot demand you stay here with me. It would be too much to ask. It would take you away from the outside world. I simply... cannot."
Lan Wangji's gaze softened as he lifted Wei Ying's chin with his free hand. His eyes were dull now, and the hint of a glow that Lan Wangji saw was only a picture etched into his memory, nothing real anymore.
"I would do anything to resolve this," he said, but Wei Ying only shook his head again.
"There is nothing to resolve. This is it now. We cannot change what is already done."
"But we can change the course of the future," Lan Wangji insisted.
He wanted to yell at Wei Ying. To scream "I love you" and "Don't leave me here". But all he could do was remain calm, caressing Wei Ying's cheek with his thumb and holding his hand. That night in the rain he had been certain that he would never see Wei Ying again. All the things he had said had seemed too final, too harsh to allow any future between them. But this perception of his had already changed, so why could nothing else be changed?
"It will come to that at last," Wei Ying said, looking away from him again.
"You know it. One day I will have to fight them finally. And I would... I would prefer it be you who strikes the final blow."
"I could not," Lan Wangji said quietly.
"You would do anything to resolve this," Wei Ying quoted.
"Maybe this is the only way."
Lan Wangji wanted to reply something, anything, but all he could do was shake his head.
"Yes," Wei Ying said, "eventually it will come to this. There is no denying it. I am a thorn in the eye of the 'righteous' sect leaders. These barriers will not be able to protect us forever. All I can do is lengthen our lives as much as possible. Give them some more time. Not let them die in mistreatment in a prison camp. That is the least I owe them."
"And what about us?" Lan Wangji asked. It slipped from his tongue just like that, the selfish thought put into words, the defiance of his sect from his own mouth.
Wei Ying's hard gaze softened considerably as a tear formed in the corner of his eye.
"I never wanted it to come to this," he said.
"But there was nothing else for me to do. I wish I could turn back the time and prevent the loss - prevent all that happened. I wish nothing more than that. But the past is the past, and it must be laid to rest in favour of the present."
Lan Wangji said no more. His heart ached so terribly that he thought it would burst in his chest. All the hopes he had had were long shattered. O, of course, the Sunshot Campaign had changedf all of them and Wei Ying the most of all, y. Yet, until today, something inside him had harboured the hope that there might be a new start for them, no matter how or where. Something that belonged to them only.
He did not want to live in a world where there was no Wei Ying. And that was what made him say the words he said next.
"If it comes to a fight between us," he brought out over the lump in his throat, "I shall not fight back. I will stand by your side, or on no side at all."
And with that, he walked away.
---
The fight came.
Lan Wangji stood by his words.
For thirteen years he waited, with all the words left unsaid burning in his chest and gnawing at his heart.
A-Yuan, Lan Sizhui, was all he had left of Wei Ying. He loved the boy not only for that, but he clung onto him so desperately because of it.
Nearly every night he played Inquiry, looking up to the stars and wishing upon them that Wei Ying would one day return.
His remains were never found.
And so, Lan Wangji's spark of hope remained.
Until the day he heard his own song, the one that, apart from Lan Sizhui, only Wei Ying could know of.
And he knew.
---
Wei Wuxian's eyes fluttered. Open, closed, open, closed. He felt weak and drained of all energy, his limbs ached dully and something pounded in his head. But he felt something.
Feeling was not something he was accustomed to anymore. After thirteen years of floating through the depths beyond the known world, weightless, lifeless, after thirteen years of numbness without questioning it, he was back in the very known world.
This awakening was, admittedly, more enjoyable than his first one in the body of Mo Xuanyu, for instead of a brutal cousin and his entourage he was greeted by the sounds of peace.
There was a rustling in the trees, distant birdsong dripped honey-sweet from the leaves. And there was something else... soft music, very close to his ear, not coming from the pristine white ceiling he was currently looking at but from the center of the room he seemed to be in the corner of.
He turned his head and his breath stopped.
Lan Zhan's eyes were closed as he played the guqin with skilled fingers, not needing to look in order to play the strings perfectly. The song he was playing was mildly familiar to Wei Wuxian's ears. I, it might have been a traditional Gusu melody that he knew from his youth. But with Lan Zhan playing it, it was more gentle and beautiful than anything he had ever heard before.
Wei Wuxian did not say a single word, but Lan Zhan opened his eyes and ceased his playing. The look in his golden eyes was endlessly soft. They mirrored everything Wei Wuxian wished he had said in that cave, the last time they had spoken to each other without an audience of hundreds in a fight. Yet he also beheld in them the pain that he must have felt after Wei Wuxian had abandoned him.
There had been no other way.
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said. There was the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice.
"Lan Zhan," he replied, removing the covers from his body.
As quickly as the Lan rules allowed it, Lan Zhan came to Wei Ying and sat down at his bedside, putting one hand on Wei Ying's.
"Stay," he said.
"Rest."
"Lan Zhan..."
"Mn?"
"I'm sorry."
Wei Ying tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. There was a lump in his throat already, waiting to drive tears into his eyes. But he did not wish for this moment, this conversation to end before it had even begun.
There was too much long overdue to be said.
"Wei Ying..." Lan Zhan said, and Wei Wuxian felt the tender sensation of Lan Zhan's thumb brushing over the back of his hand. It made him shiver. He had never wanted anything more.
"Do... do you really think there would have been another way?" Wei Wuxian asked, head still laid back. He did not know what answer he expected.
"Perhaps," Lan Zhan said quietly.
"But it is too late to speculate about this now."
Finally Wei Wuxian dared to look into Lan Zhan's eyes again.
"Thirteen years..." he muttered.
"Thirteen years," Lan Zhan confirmed. The caress of his hand ceased, and he felt how Lan Zhan's body stiffened.
"I could not save you," he said, deep regret and pain audible in his voice.
"There was no way you could have saved me, Lan Zhan."
"Why did you return?"
"Does it matter?" Wei Wuxian sighed. His limbs felt as heavy as his heart in this second. He ached for Lan Zhan's touch, as it had been under the moonlight of Cloud Recesses in a time long gone, before he had turned away from the cultivation world and hurt no one more than Lan Zhan.
"It does not," he answered his own question, simultaneously with Lan Zhan.
"All that matters is that you are here now," Lan Zhan added. Wei Wuxian looked at him. He could not tell what his eyes might have been saying in that moment. There was too much inside of him to form a coherent thought, let alone observe himself.
"Lan Zhan..." he muttered. His hand sought out Lan Zhan's between the white covers; when they found it he rested his own hand atop it, just as Lan Zhan had done before.
"You... forgive me?"
"There is nothing to forgive, Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said. His words were spoken with such tenderness and love that Wei Ying swallowed down tears.
"Maybe... maybe you were right. Maybe there really was no other way."
"Lan Zhan..."
All Wei Ying could say was his name. It seemed that his lips were unable to form any words besides it. The entire time in the Burial Mounds, after Lan Zhan had gone, he had tossed and turned and barely slept, kept awake by thoughts of him.
"And what about us?" he had asked back then.
In these nights, Wei Ying had questioned everything he had ever done.
He did not regret meeting Lan Zhan. What he regretted was not staying by his side. Sometimes in these nights, his selfish side wanted to take Lan Zhan from the cultivation world, to be with him until the end inevitably came.
The end had come.
He had seen the pain in Lan Zhan's eyes as he had fallen.
"What about us now?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"I will not force you to stay if you don't want to, Wei Ying."
Instead of a reply, Wei Wuxian sat up and closed his eyes, shaking his head in the softest way possible. His hands wandered up Lan Zhan's arms, his own arms wrapped around Lan Zhan's middle as he pulled him close and buried his head against his shoulder.
"Wei Ying," he heard Lan Zhan say, and felt his chin resting atop his head. He listened to Lan Zhan's breathing, steady in the beginning but increasingly shaky. It took him a while to realize that Lan Zhan was crying.
Lan Zhan was crying.
He had not ever seen him cry before, and it made him want to cry, too. Instead he freed his head from Lan Zhan's shoulder and kissed his lips.
At first, Lan Zhan stiffened, his hand gripping Wei Wuxian's arm tightly. Then he relaxed and melted into the kiss, hands gliding down Wei Wuxian's arms to rest on his hips. They closed around the curve of his middle and grasped his body as tight as it was possible without hurting him, as though he never wanted to let go again.
When Wei Wuxian pulled away, there was a single tear rolling over Lan Zhan's cheek, which Wei Wuxian wiped away with a brush of his thumb. Lan Zhan gave him a tiny smile, tiny yet saying more than words ever could. His eyes regarded Wei Wuxian with so much love that he sank back onto the bed and covered his face with his hands.
There it was again, the careless smile of his youth, that he had lost as he had become the Yiling Patriarch. He had caused so much pain and was far from having atoned for it all. But all that mattered in the moment was Lan Zhan: Lan Zhan's hands that still rested on his body, only a thin, white underrobe separating them from his bare skin. Lan Zhan's eyes, golden like sunlit pools, elegant and poised yet raw and emotional, with an expression that only Wei Wuxian could read. Lan Zhan's lips, parting to say his name in a way that would have made him weak in his knees had he been standing.
In this moment it became clear to Wei Wuxian that Lan Zhan had not lied when he had told him that he was his world. And there was another thing he realized, something that he had not wanted to admit to himself in the lonely vastness of the Burial Mounds, where he had not wanted Lan Zhan to dwell, ever; where the walls closed in around him and crushed his body and soul.
Lan Zhan was his world, too.
Wei Wuxian made a motion to sit back up, but Lan Zhan's hands on his chest gently pushed him back onto the bed.
"Wei Ying," he said.
"Rest."
Bending down to kiss him again, Lan Zhan closed his hand around Wei Wuxian's and squeezed it reassuringly. Wei Wuxian felt tiredness threatening to overcome him, and he refused it, not wanting this moment to ever end. For the first time since he could think, he felt truly at peace. His journey was far from over. But as the soft tunes of Wangxian filled the room, he drifted away from reality, losing himself in the sound and the ghost of Lan Zhan's lips still on his.
For @dual-mayhem, I hope I did you justice with the fluff since I'm not an expert on it!
Read On AO3
*****
Learning to Love like You
It was in the middle of a toast that Wei Wuxian connected the dots. Really, it should have been made clear the moment the juniors, Ouyang Zizhen, and Jin Ling rushed him towards his favorite wine house to celebrate something. He was sure they might have slipped on the purpose of the celebration but he was still reeling in the fact that the juniors decided to make time for him. Can one blame him?
Or maybe he should have concluded it last night when Lan Wangji's butterfly talisman arrived at the Jingshi. His husband very rarely arrived home late due to unforeseen circumstances. So when Wei Wuxian read the note, "Late due to conflicting opinions. I will arrive as soon as possible. I am sorry," he should have caught on. Nowadays, there are no "sorrys" between them. So he should have been suspicious when Lan Wangji apologized. But he was so caught up on the small gift his husband sent along with the talisman that he forgot to ponder on it further.
No, it hit as he was looking at the ceiling of his favorite wine house in Caiyi. The juniors surrounding him kept shouting their congratulations and drinking away, so most of them didn’t notice his tense form.
Lan Sizhui, however, did.
"Senior Wei?" he asked, tapping him on the shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Lan Sizhui’s cheeks were flushed and he swayed a bit. The two cups of wine he had drank were starting to show but he held his liquor incredibly better than his father. That particular skill, thought Wei Wuxian, his son had gotten from him.
Wei Wuxian drank his wine and placed his cup on the table.
"Sizhui," he started and paused. How does he word it? He was quick-witted when it came to unexpected situations, poetic in other moments, but being blunt has always been his downfall.
"Are we celebrating my birthday?"
Too blunt.
The room became dead quiet. Wei Wuxian was tempted to look around the room just to gauge everyone's reaction, and maybe snicker a little, but he focused on his son instead.
Lan Sizhui, for his part, did not spit out his drink like Lan Jingyi, or whisper-yell curse words like Jin Ling, or not even quietly mutter a sad, "Oh, Senior Wei…" like Ouyang Zizhen.
No, his son furrowed his brows and cocked his head--so much like Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian nearly laughed.
"Of course we are," Lan Sizhui answered. He looked around the room. "Was it not obvious?"
Yes, it was, now that Wei Wuxian thought about it. But, to be fair, it has been almost a year since his return to the living, so this was his first time celebrating his birthday in years. The last time he properly celebrated it was when he turned 15. He quickly banished the thought when shijie's bright smile popped into his head.
No need to think about that now.
He began to laugh, then patted his son on the shoulder and finally turned to look at the juniors surrounding him.
"Surprise, I guess?" he added, going for a smile.
"It was never a surprise!" yelled Jin Ling, standing up from his stool rather clumsily. "Everyone kept mentioning your birthday here!"
To be fair, Wei Wuxian was once again stuck on the fact that the juniors were taking him out and that, frankly, they enjoyed his company enough to book a room to celebrate something.
It just never occurred to him it was because of his birthday.
He laughed weakly and suddenly someone was hugging him tightly.
"Senior Wei!" wailed Ouyang Zizhen, arms tightening around him. "I'm sorry we weren't more obvious--"
"We were!" cut in Jin Ling.
"--but Happy Birthday, Senior Wei!" Ouyang Zizhen, this sweet young man, began to cry, shoulders shaking. It must be the alcohol because Wei Wuxian saw Lan Jingyi sniffle before tears were streaming down his face too.
"Senior Wei!!!" he cried before colliding with them as well.
To Wei Wuxian's horror, the rest of the juniors started to tear up or cry as well, including Jin Ling!
"So stupid!" whispered Jin Ling, wiping his eyes furiously. "Such a stupid Uncle I have."
"Hey!" called out Wei Wuxian, patting the two young men in his arms. "I'm a bit slow!"
"Baba…" whispered someone from his side and Wei Wuxian had to prepare himself before turning to look at Sizhui.
His son, his beautiful and caring son, had tears in his eyes and reached out to pat his head. He knew, Wei Wuxian thought, what the main reason was for his forgetfulness.
His birthday was merely unimportant.
Or so he thought.
~x~
After another few rounds of alcohol, when the juniors were no longer able to stand on their own, Wei Wuxian decided to call it quits. He was enjoying watching them stumble on their words or straight-up toppling down on the floor filled with giggles. They deserved it. But one glance out the window and the sun was slowly but surely going down. It was time to pack up and go back home.
“Alright!” exclaimed Wei Wuxian, feeling just a bit tipsy from all the alcohol he drank. “Time to leave!”
“Do you have all of your gifts?” asked Jingyi, swaying from his spot.
After the revelation of his obliviousness, the juniors practically threw their gifts at him with tears streaming down their faces. Some were wrapped, some were wrapped poorly, and some didn’t even bother to wrap them. Despite the varying appearances of the gifts, it warmed Wei Wuxian to the point that he felt his own tears in his own eyes. He managed to put all the gifts in his qiankun bag--which was handmade by Ouyang Zizhen--and now stood with a heart heavier than it was in the morning.
Looking over all the juniors, laughing and smiling, made him feel some kind of way. Of afternoon summer heats, lake water being splashed, laughter of disciples and Jiang Cheng, and of shijie smiling and calling them in to eat. The memory faded into the one before his eyes and he realized, to his horror, that he was crying.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, wiping his face.
He felt someone press against him and he was ready to consult a sobbing Ouyang Zizhen but it turned out to be none other than his son.
Sizhui pressed against him tightly and he laid his head on his shoulder.
“Happy Birthday, baba,” he whispered, eyes looking over his friends before directing that wide and loving gaze to him. “I love you.”
Wei Wuxian laughed with a sob. Sizhui, who would blush when reminded of his earlier, clingy days as a child, now clung to him like the same kid who was buried in the dirt by his Xian-gege.
Was it healthy to feel his chest this tight?
“I love you too,” he whispered before hugging him tightly. “Alright, alright!” he called out, his son still clinging to him. “Time to go! Come on, no don’t groan--no I’m not carrying you, Jingyi, stop giving me that pleading look! The ones who aren’t so intoxicated grab those who are just flat out drunk. Okay, let’s go!”
With that, Wei Wuxian led a stumbling, laughing, and very drunk group of juniors towards Cloud Recesses with Lan Sizhui still stuck to his side.
~x~
Wei Wuxian herded them all into the same room and breathed a sigh of relief, paying no heed to the consequences. The walk back home had burned off the rest of the alcohol in his system so he took out a jar of Emperor’s Smile and took a sip as he wandered the halls of his home. Even now, it was difficult to think of this place as home. Back then, home were piers with lapping water, shouts of vendors, and the smell of summer heat. Here, home became the twinkle of windchimes, light chatter, rushes of water, and the cool feeling of clouds against his skin. When did it change?
He turned the corner and nearly bumped into someone. Out of sheer reflex, he reeled back enough and hid his jar of alcohol behind his back.
“Oh,” he whispered when Lan Xichen gave him a small smile.
Lan Wangji’s older brother has been in seclusion ever since the events of Guanyin Temple . Wei Wuxian couldn’t blame him. The fire that used to burn in the older Lan has died and it hurt Wei Wuxian to see his husband be shut out from helping his brother, the only other person who helped raise him.
This was indeed a rare sight to see.
“Zewu-jun,” he recovered, giving a low bow and in doing so, showed his Emperor’s Smile.
“Master Wei,” responded Lan Xichen, returning the bow. “Please join me before sundown.”
Wei Wuxian glanced at the sky. It was getting dark.
“Where are we going?” asked Wei Wuxian, pausing before shrugging and taking a swig of the jar.
“To drink tea with Uncle and I,” supplied Lan Xichen, walking towards his room.
The alcohol got caught in his throat and he sputtered, “Lan Qiren?”
Lan Xichen gave another smile. “Uncle doesn’t feel so displeased by you as you may think, Master Wei.” He opened the door and Wei Wuxian followed suit. He quickly put his jar away before it could get confiscated.
Sitting at the low table was Lan Qiren, eyes closed and hands on his lap. When his eyes opened, Wei Wuxian was reminded why Lan Qiren earned the title Grand Master.
They bowed and took a seat, Lan Xichen sat beside his uncle andWei Wuxian sat across from them. It took a second before Wei Wuxian reached over to pour the tea. But Lan Xichen simply waved his hands away and poured for them. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel tense. Was this an interrogation?
“Wei Wuxian,” started Lan Qiren after several moments of silence.
The sudden call of his name made him sit up straighter. “Yes?”
Lan Qiren closed his eyes, breathed in and out, before resuming his indifferent stare. “I heard today is cause for celebration.”
It took a minute for the meaning to register in Wei Wuxian’s head.
“Oh!” He fiddled with his tea cup. “Yeah? I mean, yes! It’s, uh, it’s my...birthday?”
Lan Qiren exhaled sharply. “In the Cloud Recesses, one’s day of birth is cause for celebration.” He paused, letting it sink in, before continuing. “Every life is as important as the gods above, Wei Wuxian.” Lan Qiren took a sip of his tea and did not continue.
Wei Wuxian had to blink, hard, in order to understand what the old man was trying to say.
Lan Xichen picked up where his uncle had stopped. “We have delivered gifts to the Jingshi.” Lan Xichen raised his hand when Wei Wuxian went to protest. “I know that the Lans are not known for excessive spending but over the years, well,” Lan Xichen paused, and this time his smile was soft but it was directed at something past Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, “let’s say Wangji had a say or two about our views regarding gifts.”
Every now and again, the realisation hit Wei Wuxian just how much his husband had changed his clan over the years he was gone. He wondered just how much opposition his husband had faced and who stood by his side through it all. It hurt, knowing he wasn’t one of them, but seeing the results of his husband’s stubborn nature gave him a pleasant sense of pride.
After a few words were exchanged and one more round of tea, Wei Wuxian was excused. It was already dark and the lanterns filled the hallways with a syrupy orange yellow. There was much to think about as the day came to a close. It was his birthday and people were celebrating it. For the first time in years. To Wei Wuxian, it was just another day. But he’s seen the time and effort people have made in order to remind him how happy--or in the case of Old Man Lan, tolerant --they were that he was born today. Something warm pooled at the bottom of his belly and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol or tea he’d drank today. Just like he pondered earlier, while the Cloud Recesses was very different from his old home, the people living here, greeting him, asking for his advice, seeking out his tutelage, and even asking for some of his time to be with him--his son and Jingyi do this quite often--have made this place home.
Before he knew it, he was in front of the Jingshi. A place meant for him and his husband.. A safe space to unwind, to call his own.
He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of his husband.
Lan Wangji sat prim and proper, back straight, and was pouring Emperor’s Smile into one of the jade cups he bought from one of his travels. The low table was decorated with several plates including longevity cold noodles and spicy wontons, the red oil coating each one. After pouring his own tea, Lan Wangji stood up and walked towards him.
After today, after feeling emotionally wrecked by the juniors, reminded of his past--sweet summer times--and having a talk with his brother-in-law and uncle-in-law, seeing his husband giving him such a tender look caused the dam to break. So, in the comfort of these four walls, Wei Wuxian cried as his husband pulled him close. He tucked his head into his neck and tried to quiet the sobs, to reign in all of his feelings that were spilling out. But his husband swayed them back and forth and, for some odd reason, that made him sob out loud . He simply let go because he knew that out of everyone alive today, Lan Wangji will be there to catch him.
He didn’t know how much time had passed but at some point, Lan Wangji removed his outer robe and replaced it with a soft inner one. His qiankun bag was placed on the table and he was gently manhandled to sit beside him. He let him raise the cup of wine to his lips and he took a slow sip, savoring the wine and its cacophony of taste. He let him place the longevity noodle into his mouth and held the bowl under his chin as he slurped, and slurped, and slurped.
After a bit, Wei Wuxian blinked and he no longer felt weighed down by his own overwhelming emotions. Instead, he focused on Lan Wangji and his quiet devotion. The way he added foods to his bowl and lifted them to his lips, making sure he chewed before putting the bowl and chopsticks down before refilling his cup of wine. It went by like this for a while before Wei Wuxian shook his head when Lan Wangji lifted another piece of food to his mouth.
Lan Wangji said nothing and put the food back in the bowl.
“Thank you,” whispered Wei Wuxian, shifting closer and leaning against him.
“No thank yous,” responded Lan Wangji, fully melting into the soft touch. “It is Wei Ying’s birthday.”
“Yeah,” he sniffed, “I’ve been reminded of that,” he paused before adding, “constantly.”
“As it should be,” Lan Wangji rumbled out, pulling Wei Wuxian closer until he was fully seated on his lap. Wei Wuxian sighed and snuggled in closer.
“I actually forgot about my birthday,” he confessed. “I couldn’t remember the last time I even celebrated it. I didn’t realize it was such a bad thing until the juniors--oh, Lan Zhan, the juniors! You should have seen them! They were so drunk and they did it to celebrate my birthday but, really, between us, I think they just used that excuse to drink. Anyway! Ouyang Zizhen is such a cryer! It took a long time to get him off of me because he felt sad that I forgot. He felt sad for me, Lan Zhan! So many of those little ducklings did! And, did you know that your brother and your Uncle invited me for tea?” Lan Wangji hummed quietly, as if to say: no, he didn’t know. “They did! I got so scared! I thought I was going to get scolded for drinking my precious wine during the day. But they, in their roundabout way, told me happy birthday as well.”
He paused, not sure of this feeling gripping his heart, but then continued on.
“I’m so happy. I don’t know how I’m going to ever repay it.”
Here, his husband tipped his chin up and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
“There’s no repayment when those close to you only want your happiness.”
Lan Wangji let him sit on that thought.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Wei Wuxian sniffed after a pause, then nodded. “Yup, definitely right.”
Lan Wangji hummed.
They sat there, letting the leftover food cool and the crickets continue their play, before Wei Wuxian shifted. He gave his husband a sly smile.
“And, pray tell, my husband,” he cooed, leaning in to kiss Lan Wangji’s neck, “what is your birthday present for me, hm?”
Lan Wangji let out a huff of laughter before presenting a wooden box. It was simple, really, the corners of it chipped and the wood looking worn out. But Wei Wuxian grabbed it with the delight of a child that had just been given their first candy.
“For me?” he squealed, sitting up straighter.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji responded. “But it is not from me.”
Wei Wuxian made a questioning sound, giving him a funny look. “From who?”
Lan Wangji didn’t answer and that roused Wei Wuxian’s curiosity even more. He opened the top and inside the box was a folded parchment, along with a bell. He picked up the parchment and unfolded it.
Wei Wuxian,
Hanguang-jun has been persistent these past couple of days about your...birthday. That’s the only reason I’m writing this to you. No other. Have this and don’t bother writing back.
Another folded paper fell into Wei Wuxian’s palm. With trembling hands, he unfolded that one and--
“This is--!”
In Jiang Cheng’s messy handwriting, it was a recipe for lotus and pork rib soup, specifically his shijie’s.
“Ha,” wheezed out Wei Wuxian, “Wha--how?” He blindly reached in for the bell and, in the soft lights of the Jingshi, the unmistakable designs of the Yunmeng Clan shone brightly.
“A clarity bell?”
“He refused to come,” whispered Lan Wangji, arms tight around Wei Wuxian. “But he gave me these moments before I left.”
Wei Wuxian couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that left him. “He...what?”
Lan Wangji said nothing else and Wei Wuxian suddenly realized that this was the reason that his husband had left.
“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” whispered out Wei Wuxian, “Why…”
Lan Wangji always seemed to surprise him in unexpected ways, but this might have topped them all.
“I love you,” Wei Wuxian said instead, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you so much.”
“Happy Birthday, Wei Ying,” whispered Lan Wangji, pressing their lips together softly. “I love you.”
And from that night onward, Wei Wuxian began to anticipate his birthday with glee.
Lan Wangji knows what it is that others say about him.
He’s heard the awed whispers, swirling around him like gusts of wind as he strides past.
They say that he is truly a child of the snowy mountains near Gusu.
They say that he is as cold and untouchable as a wintry pond, the waters beneath the surface as still and icy as what lies above.
They say that his spirit is sheathed in ice that is as thick and impenetrable as the walls of the Unclean Realm.
Lan Wangji wishes it were true, but he knows that it’s not.
Within him rages an inferno, wild and untamed. It’s one he struggles every day to control.
Injustice sparks outrage within him, of course, and it always has, ever since he was a lonely child who could not comprehend why he was kept away from the warm embrace of the mother he loved so dearly.
But it’s the way he feels when Wei Wuxian is near, as though his veins burn ceaselessly with molten rivers of lava, that he finds the most troublesome, the most terrifying.
Lan Wangji can subdue rowdy disciples through his mere presence, and his icy glare has sent a shiver up the spine of many an evildoer.
Although Lan Wangji’s veneer of coldness is reason enough to demonstrate the respect that is due to a man of his station and bearing, for the soldiers of the Wen Clan who are dragging him to the Nightless City, it seems to be more of a challenge.
As he walks with all the stately pride he can muster, given the circumstances, they relentlessly try to see which of them can taunt and torment the great Second Young Master Lan into breaking.
Lan Wangji stubbornly does not allow them to see how deeply their taunts about the destruction of his clan, his home, his family, wound him.
He does not let them know that it is taking every ounce of his strength and self-control to stop himself from teaching them to show him the proper respect with the tip of his snowy white sword.
But he knows he cannot be so reckless. The consequences to those he loves would be far too dire.
It feels as though it’s only been moments since he saw flames rising above the only home he’s ever known, leaving behind nothing but ashes.
He cannot help but think, over and over again, that if he had not found the Yin Metal—if he had not defied the Wen Clan by seeking out the other pieces—perhaps, perhaps his home, his family, would not be lying in ruins.
He feels less a man and more a raw, bleeding wound. Every step he takes away from his home and family only cuts the wound deeper.
His mind is wracked with fear, doubt, and guilt as he trudges hopelessly toward the Nightless City, every step weighed down by a heart full of dread.
When Wen Xu had threatened to murder GusuLan’s disciples and Lan Wangji had opted to surrender and hand over the Yin Metal shard he’d guarded so carefully, had he done what was right? Or had he instead made possible a great evil for the sake of avoiding a smaller evil?
He’d thought, at the time, that it was right, but doubt has begun to creep in since then.
Once, and it feels so long ago now, he had been so sure of everything, of what was right and what was wrong, but his certainty has begun to fracture.
Lan Wangji feels more lost, more adrift, than ever.
His uncle is ill, perhaps dead, his brother fleeing from the Wen Clan’s forces, and may, for all Lan Wangji knows, be dead by now too, his home is in ashes, the Lan sect’s disciples dead or dying, and he cannot do anything about it all.
No—now he is trapped helplessly in the hands of the men who did it all, suffering stoically through the humiliations and indignities they heap upon him as they drag him to the Nightless City despite his broken leg.
He is terrified for his loved ones, and more alone than he has ever been in his life—and he is someone who knows loneliness. It has been his constant companion all his life.
But he will not give the Wen Clan the satisfaction of seeing him break.
He will exercise every scrap of the iron will that his uncle has hammered into him, and he will not break.
He will be the ice, cold and unbreakable, that they all believe he is.
And he will not break.
When he strides into the Wen Clan’s educational center and sees familiar faces—Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, Jin Zixuan, and, of course, Wei Wuxian—for the first time since the burning of Cloud Recesses, it is a relief.
He doesn’t miss the way Wei Wuxian tries to sidle over and surreptitiously check on him, even after his younger brother hissed at him to stop.
Lan Wangji feels gratitude swell warmly within his breast, but he doesn’t show it.
All of his strength, all of his energy, is devoted to maintaining strict control over himself.
Despite Wen Chao’s arrogance and viciousness, he cannot speak out, cannot defend others, even though it goes against his very nature.
No, instead he must play along with this cruel charade, because it is all that keeps his loved ones safe.
If he rebels openly against the Wen Clan, it is his family, his clan, that will pay the price. And they have paid more than they could bear to in blood and tears already.
Lan Wangji cannot be the cause of more suffering, no matter what it costs him.
And so he will hand over his beloved Bichen, even though it makes him feel as though he has lost a part of himself.
And he will steel himself to ignore the pointed jabs and insults of that loathsome Wen Chao.
And through it all, he will remember the faces of those he is keeping safe through these sacrifices of his honor, dignity, and pride.
And he will be ice and snow, cold, serene, and unbreakable.
When Lan Wangji is finally escorted to his rooms by the Wen Clan’s guards, he is surprised to discover that his quarters, while not his Jingshi, are comfortable enough.
He had expected to be marched to the dungeons of the Nightless City, but instead, he has been granted a moderately comfortable set of rooms.
He does not, of course, miss the fact that his guards do not truly leave—they station themselves just beyond the doors, allowing him some measure of privacy, but standing watch just the same.
Lan Wangji is under no illusions. This is a prison, no matter how comfortable, and he is its prisoner.
But this is the first time since he left Cloud Recesses that he has been allowed any privacy by the Wen Clan’s forces, and he relishes the solitude.
Finally, there is no one for whom he must playact.
But then comes the abrupt realization that there is also nothing to do save to linger on the devastating events of the last few days.
Lan Wangji knows he cannot do that. Surely the thought of all that he has lost will break him, and he cannot break.
And so he does what he always does whenever his soul is in turmoil: he pulls out his guqin and begins to play.
From his fingers spills a melody that has been haunting him, filling the silent spaces of his life, lingering always at the edges of his consciousness.
He has never heard it before—of that he is certain—and yet it is so familiar that it feels as though he has always known it, as though it is a part of him.
It is wistful. Sweeping. Romantic.
And, for some reason, it always makes him think of Wei Wuxian.
He doesn’t know where it came from. Doesn’t know what to call it.
But playing it fills him with serenity and joy, and he is in short supply of both these days.
His eyes drift shut as he loses himself in his music and his thoughts drift inexorably toward Wei Wuxian.
He thinks of the dark, lovely mischief of Wei Wuxian’s eyes, of a bright red ribbon fluttering above windswept, raven-black hair, of swift clever fingers working deft magic.
He thinks of the soft, delicate curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck and dreams of pressing his mouth against it, longs to hear Wei Wuxian gasp and moan with pleasure.
He dreams of taking Wei Wuxian into his arms and kissing a sweet red smile that is brighter than any sun. Surely it would scald his skin, but Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to care.
As his long, delicate fingers dance across the strings of his guqin, he dreams and dreams of how sweet it would be to kiss Wei Wuxian. The thought haunts his nights and fills his days with endless longing.
So when Lan Wangji feels soft fingers curl beneath his chin, tilting his face upward, and sees Wei Wuxian leaning over him, he is not sure whether he is sleeping or waking, does not know whether the amorous Wei Wuxian who fills his thoughts has somehow walked from his fevered dreams into reality.
Lan Wangji’s fingers still, the silence settling heavily around him, as he waits breathlessly for a kiss that never comes.
“Lan Zhan,” the vision of loveliness that is Wei Wuxian says earnestly, “I came to check on you. Are you all right?”
That’s when Lan Wangji realizes, with a surge of disappointment, that this is reality. He gently removes his face from the reach of Wei Wuxian’s fingers and stares down silently at his guqin.
Everything that he has been trying so desperately not to think about is crowding into his consciousness, crying out to be heard.
Instead of pleasant daydreams about Wei Wuxian, he thinks of his uncle, blood painting his mouth bright red, of his brother, lost in the wilderness and pursued by the ravening hounds of the Wen Clan, of flames rising above the cold mountains of his home, of ash drifting from the sky like flakes of snow.
His worry must be palpable, because Wei Wuxian’s hand settles warmly on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and Lan Wangji does not protest.
That seems to worry Wei Wuxian more than anything else Lan Wangji has done since his arrival at the Nightless City. “Lan Zhan,” he repeats insistently. “What happened to you? What happened at Cloud Recesses? Is your family okay? Where’s the Yin Metal shard?”
Lan Wangji shakes his head once, a movement so minuscule someone less observant might have missed it.
Wei Wuxian’s keen eyes do not.
“Lan Zhan, you lost the Yin Metal? Does Wen Ruohan have it already? How did that happen?”
Horror and disappointment fill his voice. Lan Wangji cannot bear the thought that Wei Wuxian would be ashamed of him for surrendering the Yin Metal to Wen Xu so easily.
Wei Wuxian is so clever, so quick-witted. Surely he would have thought of a way to defy Wen Xu, protect his family, and keep the Yin Metal safe.
Lan Wangji did the best he was capable of, but for the first time in his life, it was not enough.
He discovers that he is disappointed with himself and ashamed of his failure.
He surges to his feet and begins to move away, desperate to distance himself from the intoxicating beauty of Wei Wuxian, desperate to hide his shame.
Wei Wuxian catches his wrist between fingers that are surprisingly warm.
“Let go,” Lan Wangji demands, half-turned away from Wei Wuxian.
He still cannot bear to look at Wei Wuxian.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian begs once more. “Tell me what happened after you left Qinghe.”
His grip tightens around Lan Wangji’s wrist as Lan Wangji halfheartedly tries to pull it away.
“I know something happened,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Lan Zhan, after everything I’ve done to help, I think I deserve to know.” There is no answer. He sighs, and then his voice softens. “Lan Zhan, you can talk to me.”
But Lan Wangji remains stubbornly silent. He desperately does not wish to speak about this. Not to anyone, but most of all not to Wei Wuxian.
He is not ready to speak of the losses he has suffered, the violence and indignities he has endured.
And he fears that Wei Wuxian’s high opinion of him will diminish once Wei Wuxian learns of how quickly he surrendered to the overwhelming force of the Wen Clan’s army.
“Leave,” Lan Wangji counters, voice as sharp, cold, and hard as the steel of his icy white sword. “I do not want you here.”
Wei Wuxian’s hand jerks away from Lan Wangji’s wrist. It is as if Lan Wangji had indeed thrust a sword into his body, although this is instead a wound of the heart.
Lan Wangji steps away from Wei Wuxian, his body stiff and tense, and clenches both of his hands tightly behind his back where Wei Wuxian cannot see this sign of agony and despair.
Wei Wuxian’s wounded eyes are fixed to his face as he slowly steps away. “Lan Zhan, why are you being like this?” Lan Wangji can hear the hurt in his voice, see it in the depths of his eyes. “I thought we were friends.”
They are friends, and much besides.
Lan Wangji’s fists clench tighter. His nails will draw blood if they dig into his palms much longer, but still he says nothing.
“All right,” Wei Wuxian sighs after excruciatingly long moments pass and still Lan Wangji remains stubbornly silent. “I’ll go, if that’s really what you want.”
As he turns to leave, defeated, Lan Wangji belatedly realizes that he does not want him to go. He cannot bear the silence, the ugliness, the loneliness of this dim prison.
This time, it is he who reaches out and catches Wei Wuxian’s slender wrist, and it is he who will not let go.
Wei Wuxian halts, glances, perplexed, to where Lan Wangji’s hand is wrapped around his wrist, and then flicks his eyes disapprovingly back to Lan Wangji’s face.
“So you don’t want me to stay, but you don’t want me to go.”
Lan Wangji lowers his eyes and says nothing. There is nothing to say. It is the truth.
Wei Wuxian sighs, frustrated. “So what do you want, Lan Zhan?”
At his words, a fire within Lan Wangji blazes to life, but this time, he is heartsick, and he is tired...so very, very tired. He does not know if he has the strength to contain the flames that burn within him any longer.
He tries his hardest, but it is to no avail.
He feels something within him break, and before he fully realizes what he is doing, he finds that his hand is tugging Wei Wuxian closer.
He does not know who is more shocked, he or Wei Wuxian, when his lips press themselves against Wei Wuxian’s as though they have a mind of their own.
It is not at all the kiss he has spent so many hours dreaming of. It is perfunctory and unsatisfactory at best.
It does not help that Wei Wuxian remains perplexingly still throughout the kiss he presses so swiftly against Wei Wuxian’s mouth.
Wei Wuxian does not push Lan Wangji away, but neither does he pull him closer.
Lan Wangji does not know what that means.
When it is over, Lan Wangji retreats, eyes lowered, the sweet taste of Wei Wuxian’s lips fresh on his own, and Wei Wuxian remains unnervingly silent.
Lan Wangji did not know he was capable of such prolonged silence.
Normally, he would be pleased by this discovery, but this is not how he would have wished to discover it.
“Say something,” Lan Wangji says gruffly when he can bear the silence no longer.
Wei Wuxian is a man of so many words. He is unlike Lan Wangji in that respect. Surely he will find his way to the words that Lan Wangji cannot.
He hears Wei Wuxian take a deep breath as though to steady himself. “Lan Zhan?” he asks tentatively, sounding more bewildered than anything. “Why... why did you... why?”
“Why do you think?” Lan Wangji replies, somehow managing to sound cool and collected despite the turmoil and impatience within his breast.
Wei Wuxian is not usually so slow to grasp a situation. His mind is quick and clever.
“You... Lan Zhan... you want me?” is the answer Wei Wuxian settles on. He sounds shocked by the realization.
Lan Wangji wants a great many things from Wei Wuxian, but he does not tell Wei Wuxian that.
He cannot, however, deny that he wants him.
He nods his head. Once, ever so slightly.
Wei Wuxian begins to laugh, in great echoing guffaws, bent over from the force of his laughter, and Lan Wangji’s eyes flash in anger.
“No!” Wei Wuxian says quickly, reassuringly. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because... Lan Zhan, you’re really good at hiding your feelings. I never would have guessed that you felt that way about me. I thought you… I didn’t think you even liked me, much less liking me like that.”
Lan Wangji diplomatically chooses not to respond. It would be too easy to descend into a lengthy list of Wei Wuxian’s faults. He has come to accept and even like a few of them, but he cannot deny that they are there.
Instead, he hesitantly asks the question that has been occupying his thoughts more often than he would care to admit. “Do you… want me?”
Wei Wuxian tilts his head and taps a finger against his chin as he playfully pretends to think it over.
Lan Wangji's eyes flash. "Wei Ying!"
Lan Wangji's self-control is, admittedly, less strict than it normally is, but that is no reason for Wei Wuxian, much to Lan Wangji's growing fury, to collapse in laughter.
Lan Wangji feels as though they are back in the early days of their relationship, when Wei Wuxian teased him mercilessly and Lan Wangji was torn between wanting to kiss him senseless and longing to give him a lesson in swordplay he'd never forget.
"Shut up!" Lan Wangji snaps, in what is, he hopes, a forgivable lapse into immaturity.
It's not the most eloquent statement he's ever made, he admits that. He's not proud of it.
But when the laughter in Wei Wuxian's eyes fades away, replaced with something akin to curiosity, and he says, "Make me," in a voice that somehow sounds more like a promise than a challenge, Lan Wangji cannot say that he is sorry he said it.
He leans forward and cautiously brushes his lips against Wei Wuxian’s.
Wei Wuxian does not back away, does not laugh, does not mock him, as Lan Wangji had been half afraid he would.
He is half afraid that this is another one of Wei Wuxian’s games and that it will end with Wei Wuxian laughing at him for thinking Wei Wuxian could ever want him.
But if anything, Wei Wuxian seems disappointed, because he rolls his eyes, sighs, and says, “Lan Zhan, if that’s all you’ve got, then...”
He does not finish his—frankly ridiculous—statement. He cannot, because Lan Wangji interrupts by pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him, and pressing his lips against Wei Wuxian’s.
If their first kiss was fleeting, disappointing, and over nearly before it began, this kiss is its polar opposite.
Lan Wangji takes his time. He does not know if Wei Wuxian will ever allow him to kiss him again, and he intends to remember this kiss always--the sweetness of Wei Wuxian's mouth, the softness of his lips, his quiet, surprised gasps when Lan Wangji does something particularly clever with his tongue, the way he slips an arm around Lan Wangji's neck and presses himself closer with a fierceness that Lan Wangji does his best to match.
Lan Wangji feels as though everything within him has been set ablaze by the touch of Wei Wuxian's lips, his hands, his body.
No matter what his fate has in store for him and Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji knows this: he will warm himself with his memories of this kiss during all of the cold, lonely, miserable nights that are sure to follow.
The walls that surround his heart may be as high and as thick as the walls of the Unclean Realm, but behind them, this single memory will burn always, shedding its warmth, its light upon every moment of Lan Wangji's life, even when everything else has been reduced to ashes and embers.
Lan Wangji desperately does not want the kiss to end, and so h e kisses and kisses Wei Wuxian mercilessly, until Wei Wuxian melts in his arms and Lan Wangji suspects that Wei Wuxian has remained on his feet only because he is clinging so tightly to Lan Wangji, an arm thrown around his neck, the other clutching at his robes.
When Lan Wangji pulls away at long last, Wei Wuxian’s eyes remain closed, his lips softly parted, as though he is waiting breathlessly to be kissed once more.
Lan Wangji drinks in the lovely sight, until Wei Wuxian breathes deep, opens his eyes, smiles softly, and says, “Lan Zhan, where did you learn to kiss like that?”
Lan Wangji does not know how to answer. Wei Wuxian is the only person he has ever kissed. He was simply kissing Wei Wuxian the way he deserves to be kissed, the way he should always be kissed.
He supposes, then, that he learned how to kiss that way from Wei Wuxian.
He does not know how to say all of this to Wei Wuxian.
He settles for, “It is the way I have always wanted to kiss you.”
Wei Wuxian’s breath catches. “Lan Zhan,” he chides, “you can’t just say things like that without warning me.”
And then he kisses Lan Wangji, and this time he doesn't stop, not for a long, long time, and through it all Lan Wangji cannot help but marvel at the fact that everything in his life is somehow both the worst it has ever been and so much better.
For @theyilinglaozus, I hope this fic is everything you wanted from the Hanahaki trope. Thank you for being so open and receptive to my questions, your quick and detailed responses really helped to make this possible. I really hope you enjoy this! Happy Winter Solstice! :)
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*****
Bloom (you grew up so soft when you could have grown cold)
The first time it happened Lan Wangji was fifteen. Too young to fully understand what it was or what it meant. It began with a flutter, innocuous, easy to ignore and pass off as nothing. It was only after spending a substantial amount of time with Wei Wuxian as a direct result of his inability to follow the rules that it became something else. Something much more painful and visceral. It felt as if he’d been stabbed in the chest, like somebody had reached past his ribs and grabbed both his heart and lungs at the same time. Gripping, squeezing, pushing and pulling until he’d succumbed. He woke hours later to Xichen’s concerned face, but brushed it off as nothing in a tone that brokered no room for argument or discussion.
The second time it happened it was much more obvious; it was visceral in its sudden manifestation and the ordinarily collected and calm Lan Wangji regarded a blood-coated lotus petal with absolute horror. He hid it, of course. Ignoring something made it go away, right? Unless you were Wei Wuxian of course and all it seemed to do was encourage him to persist.
Knowledge was power or at least that’s what the Lan disciples had been taught so Lan Wangji locked himself away for hours, reading text after text, desperate for answers that he dared not seek from anybody else. To speak it aloud was to make it a reality and if he could hold his tongue then perhaps it might just go away.
It didn’t.
If anything it got worse, much worse.
The pain persisted as did the petals but, stubborn to a fault, Lan Wangji remained his own confidante. It was his burden to bear and if his affliction had anything to do with whatever he might feel for Wei Wuxian (love though he was loathed to put it to words) then it was better if it remained his secret and his alone. The texts that he’d poured over endlessly from sunrise to sunset told of a physical condition that was born from unrequited love where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love would begin to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a blossoming plant growing in their lungs, which would eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible. There was however no set time for how long it would take to do that so given that he was a strong cultivator Lan Wangji was certain that through the use of his Golden Core he could hold it at bay until a solution could be found.
He willfully chose to ignore the part about how the only known cure was for his love to no longer be unrequited.
Not that the disease ravaging his body listened. If anything it just grew with more ferocity each and every time Lan Wangji beat it back with well aimed spiritual energy as if reminding him that his feelings were real and could not be denied. When Lan Wangji wasn’t focused on keeping everything under control he was meticulously paying attention to the details of his appearance as looking pale and sickly was an easy identifier to anybody who might be watching that the younger Twin Jade was not well.
As painful and inconvenient as the disease was, it was the only way that he knew that Wei Wuxian was alive after falling into Wen hands. This was because for the three months every failed moment was accompanied by the appearance of lotus petals that over time had become more plentiful in number and vivid in the crimson that coated them. The rest of the Sunshot Campaign passed in something of a blur, the ever formidable Hanguang-jun was as resilient as he was succinct in his communication though he was notably more reserved and more careful with who he allowed close especially during a coughing fit. Even his brother was held at arm’s length. There were whispers, rumours even, circulating of the Lan disciple being up at all hours, hacking and wheezing only for him to emerge in the morning as if nothing had happened.
Exhausted, spent, weary and battling the rapidly expanding growth in his lungs Lan Wangji lacked the required strength to be able to throw away all his lifelong beliefs in favour of supporting the man for which his body was literally blossoming for. It might be the reason why for the first time since succumbing to this disease that he finally coughed up more than just petals, practically a whole flower, and it all but choked him.
His inner robe, white as the first fallen snow of a new winter, was now mottled shades of red and black from fresh blood to coagulated masses of what he can only assume were crushed petals that have not survived the journey from lung to throat and eventual expulsion. He would be smart to seek help or at the very least speak to Xichen, but his brother had other pressing matters to deal with and Lan Wangji did not want to add more pressure to his brother’s broad shoulders.
Happening across Wei Wuxian and an unexpected addition in the form of Wen Yuan was as much planned as it was unexpected. He had known that passing through Yiling carried a fifty-fifty chance of encountering either the man himself or at least somebody who knew him. It was in many ways a form of self torture and Lan Wangji had hoped himself smart enough to not inflict that on himself, but apparently he was not as intelligent as he liked to think he was.
Or it was just the Wei Wuxian effect because the man did have an effect especially on Lan Wangji.
Unexpected time spent in the Burial Mounds exacerbated the condition, aggravated the buds, and Wei Wuxian pulling away from him was enough for his chest to tighten with a burning sensation that he had long since come to associate with the oncoming onslaught of petals and flowers. Despite his desire to stay he said his goodbyes and retained his composure until long out of sight and sound of both Wei Wuxian and Wen Yuan he finally succumbed, knee on the ground and hand braced as his entire body shuddered and convulsed for much longer this time. It felt like too long. When it eventually stopped all his spiritual energy was spent, he was pale, and felt like a shell of himself. It took him far longer than he would admit aloud to gather his strength, replenish his spiritual energy, and move on from Yiling.
It all came to an unexpected head at Nightless City in what would be the last time he would ever lay eyes on Wei Wuxian as he was then. At first he ignored the sudden and inexplicable easing of pressure and tightness in his chest in the vain hope that the other man was still alive, had somehow survived the fall, but his body knew better and his arrival at the Burial Mounds again confirmed Lan Wangji’s worst fears.
Wei Wuxian was dead.
Would remain that way for the next sixteen years and for those sixteen years Lan Wangji would know relief from the Lotus petals and flowers that had been plaguing him from a young age. He should have been relieved, should have been pleased, but the truth was that he would happily be consumed by the growth in his lungs if it meant that Wei Wuxian was still alive.
Life was predictable, expected, run of the mill and there was a lack of chaos that Lan Wangji had come to associate with Wei Wuxian though blessedly there was a young Lan disciple by the name of Lan Jingyi who in many ways seemed to embody a spirit that was the least Lan-like and whilst Lan Qiren did everything in his power to discourage it Lan Wangji did the exact opposite. He actively encouraged it and was happy for Lan Jingyi to spend time with Lan Sizhui as he brought out a smile in the child he’d rescued from the Burial Mounds that he had not seen in a very long time.
He understood though, the boy had lost a lot. Grief was a powerful overwhelming thing that had no rhyme or reason and no expiry date on when the loss stopped hurting and everything went back to the way that it was. It was impossible. Or at least that was how it was for Lan Wangji who had all the memories of lost opportunity and a love he’d felt that might have killed him eventually but it would have been worth it.
At some point, Lan Wangji retreated, focused entirely on existing not living but making sure that he was a better father to Lan Sizhui than his father was to him and his brother. Most would welcome the reprieve, be relieved to be free of the pain and enjoy the serenity that was afforded by the object of your unrequited love being dead and gone, but Lan Wangji was odd in his proclivities after all.
Shortly before the events that transpired at Mo Manor, Lan Wangji felt a familiar stirring in his chest, the prickling sensation of roots long since dormant regrowing, and immediately his hand clutched at his outer robes before a splattering of lotus petals decorated the ground at his feet. “Wei Ying , ” he murmured softly, not quite able to believe it, but desperate to at the same time. It wasn’t until he arrived at Mo Manor that he knew that what this disease had been telling him was true, Wei Wuxian was resurrected, but to another body, and had fled. Not that bit was important, the bit that was important was the fact that Wei Wuxian was alive and that was all that mattered.
It wasn’t until he encountered Wei Wuxian at the foot of Dafan mountain that the pain in his chest showed any sign of abating and it had been long enough without it that Lan Wangji was taken aback by just how agonising it actually was. He had not missed the sharp acrid taste of days old blood in the back of his mouth though he would happily be plagued by that for the years he had left if it meant that Wei Wuxian was alive. The body was different, but the soul was achingly familiar and it gave Lan Wangji cause to hope again, even if the return of the other man was most certainly his doom.
Still, what time he had left he was determined to spend at Wei Wuxian’s side and even if his feelings were not returned then at the very least he knew he’d done right by the man he loved. And true to his unspoken word Lan Wangji was an unmovable presence at Wei Wuxian’s side, defending him in both word and action, with blade ready to react in an instant which in hindsight was a good thing considering how many people attempt to kill and be done with Wei Wuxian, his idiot brother included.
As expected they encountered much resistance and more than a little heartbreak.
The worst, however, came in the form of Yi City where they finally learned the fate of Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. A truly sad and tragic end to a partnership that in many ways had reminded Lan Wangji of him and Wei Wuxian and it was as they handed what remained of Xiao Xingchen ’s soul to Song Lan that he felt the beginnings of another episode. He hurriedly excused himself and escaped the watchful gaze of Wei Wuxian and Juniors alike to a space behind buildings where he could brace himself against the wall, blood and petals falling from his lips like a confession until he was barely able to stand, the strain evidently clear in his trembling form and pained breaths.
This was by far the worst and the first time he felt as if something was growing in the back of his throat and no amount of swallowing could do away with it.
Still, Lan Wangji picked himself up and ignored the persistent and pervasive pressure building in his chest and throat, there was still much that needed to be done. Admittedly he probably should not have drunk in Yunping City or allowed himself to be that open and vulnerable around Wei Wuxian but thankfully he had not divulged anything about his condition much to his eternal relief.
All the events finally come to a dramatic conclusion at Guanyin Temple where it would seem Jin Guangyao was even deadlier with his back against the wall. Not that they should have expected any less from him given everything that he’d achieved, manufactured and made happen. He had been responsible for the death of so many after all in one horrific manner after another. Of course he would take hostages and of course they would consist of Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian, the latter of which causes the growth in the Lan disciple’s chest to stir unpleasantly until he was certain it was fully in bloom, pollinating what tissue remained unaffected by the disease until it was so overwhelming that his grip on Bichen was shaky at best. Thankfully that was easy enough to explain away by the fact that Jin Guangyao was threatening somebody he cared about.
The stalemate ended with Jin Guangyao and his cohorts dead, Wei Wuxian’s name finally cleared and exonerated though at the cost of his brother who much like their father entered seclusion to deal with the fallout of his faith and trust being placed in a man he thought was good. Perhaps he had been once, but that time had long since passed.
It should have been the happy ending they’d been hoping for but life was always more complicated than that. For all those involved there were a lot of emotions, unresolved issues, and a lot of history that didn’t immediately go away just because there had been a viper at the centre of the heart of everything. And as much as Lan Wangji had hoped and had desperately wanted Wei Wuxian to remain at Cloud Recesses he understood that the other man needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened and that couldn’t happen while being surrounded by the ghosts of his past.
He was no fool, he had enough sense to know just how far along the growth was in his lungs, it was likely he would be dead before he saw Wei Wuxian again, but he’d long ago accepted that this disease would claim his life and he’d bear it if it meant that he sent Wei Wuxian back into the world free and without guilt for the first time in what he was sure felt like an eternity.
Lan Wangji lasted less than a day after seeing Wei Wuxian off before he finally collapsed in a flurry of blood, petals, and full flowers accompanied by explosive coughing breaths that sound as though they do not belong to the otherwise indomitable Hanguang-jun who at this precise moment looks small, too small. It was Lan Jingyi who found him and immediately raised the alarm after it became clear that Lan Wangji could not breathe and there was very little that spare spiritual energy could do to ease his suffering. At most, it stopped him from choking but certainly did nothing to prevent him from slipping into unconsciousness.
Rushed to the Healer’s Pavilion the concern was first for the considerable strain on his body followed by the exhaustion felt in his Golden Core before a further examination which confirmed the growth of… something in the Twin Jade’s lungs, the nature of which was confirmed by the blood covered lotus petals presented to them by Lan Jingyi. The healers tasked him and the other young disciples with searching the library, for any text that might help them understand what had laid siege to Lan Wangji, hopeful that if they knew the root cause then they would be able to reverse the effects.
It wasn’t until Lan Qiren was called that it became frighteningly clear and apparent that there was no known cure for the disease that had ravaged Lan Wangji’s body. The only cure was for his feelings to be returned and even if it happened there was still no guarantee that it would be enough to reverse the damage done given how advanced the growth actually was. So advanced that it had begun to creep up the back of Lan Wangji’s throat and it was only through the use of the healers' energy that he was still able to breathe, but that was only a temporary solution.
The news of Lan Wangji’s poor health soon spread throughout Cloud Recesses, reaching even his brother in seclusion, who immediately rushed to his brother’s side. Perhaps Lan Xichen had always taken the robust nature of his younger brother for granted because seeing him so pale, so frail, so unresponsive shook him to his absolute core. And then to find out how long he’d been suffering, alone, and the nature of the disease was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“You should have told me,” he said to his younger brother who remained unconscious and completely unresponsive which he supposed was a blessing as he didn’t think that he would be able to cope with seeing Wangji in pain, again. It had happened far too many times for Lan Xichen’s liking and in many ways he felt as if he had failed as the eldest, not protecting his brother from all the evils of the world. Still, there was still too much dried blood around his Wangji’s mouth so he busied himself with cleaning him up as there wasn’t much more he could do except to try and seek out the location of Wei Wuxian. Even if the other man didn’t return his brother’s feelings (which he severely doubted) there was a chance he could do something that others had not thought of.
He asked the hard question of “how long does he have?” to which the healers were unable to give him an answer and their response did nothing to assuage Xichen’s fears that Wangji would slip away at any second. Unlike Sizhui it would seem that Wei Wuxian had done a very good job of covering his tracks and being completely uncontactable so the only alternative the Lans had was to allow message and rumour to spread of Lan Wangji’s poor health in the hopes that eventually it might reach Wei Wuxian.
It was a slim chance, but a slim chance was better than no chance at all.
At some point over the next week Lan Wangji roused but was barely able to open his eyes or take a breath without his entire body shuddering and not even the touch of his brother’s hand seemed sufficient to settle him, pained gasping breaths escaped him every other second, eyes filled with a pain and confusion that Xichen had not seen in a very long time. The growth had spread, it was now in his throat, wrapping and curling around his windpipe like a serpent and it was becoming resistant to spiritual energy and all the healers could do was make him as comfortable as possible given his infliction.
Sizhui returned to Cloud Recesses a few days later and was immediately at his father’s side, asking the same question that everybody else had been asking: “Where is Senior Wei?” and Xichen to his ever-growing shame had not been able to give an answer.
Every new day was a new torture, for the youngest Jade and those who cared for him, healers were forcibly clearing his throat and pulling large bloody masses of petal and flower buds to clear his airways so he could actually breathe, but the look on their faces told Xichen that there was only so much more they could do before Wangji was lost to them.
If Wei Wuxian did not arrive soon then there would really be no hope.
Of course in true Wei Wuxian fashion he didn’t turn up for a further week but to his credit he looked as though he hadn’t rested in days and had a distinctly crazed look to his appearance as if driven to the brink of sanity by the journey he had obviously made to be stood at the foothill of Cloud Recesses. At first, he was denied access, to which he argued vehemently, even going so far as to wave the jade token gifted to him by Hanguang-Jun in the faces of those that guarded the gate and prohibited him access, and now with their acceptance that he was a welcomed visitor he gave a satisfied smirk and with signature swagger in place rushed into Cloud Recesses.
Sizhui was the first to find him and the look of relief on the young Lan’s face was unmistakable and he was once again taken aback by the sheer ferocity in the other’s hug as Sizhui flung himself at Wei Wuxian. He was dumbfounded for a moment, completely unable to move but eventually he lifted his arms and curled around him. “It’s okay, Sizhui. I’m here now.”
“Follow me,” Sizhui said as he leaned back before remembering himself and adding a gentle, “please” to his previous demand. And with that his hand took Wei Wuxian’s wrist in his and dragged him to where his father was being kept comfortable. Now, Wei Wuxian, had seen a lot of things in his short life, too many things, many things that would haunt him for the rest of his life, but he was not prepared for what he saw next.
Lan Wangji pale, unmoving, barely breathing, hair in complete disarray with sweat beading across his forehead and causing the white silk robes to cling to him which if the situation was any different would be very distracting but at this moment they just called attention to the strain of his condition on his body from the sharp lines of his collarbone to the hollow gaunt cut to his face and the unhealthy pallor of his skin. Wei Wuxian swallowed hard and hurried to kneel beside Lan Wangji, hand seeking out and curling around his wrist where he was aghast to discover just how very weak Lan Wangji actually was.
“Lan Zhan,” he murmured softly as he leaned over him to brush his thumb over the other’s hair. “Can you hear me?” He’d been warned by the healers not to expect any reaction from Lan Wangji, but what they failed to account for was that he was Wei Ying and it would take death itself to stop Lan Wangji from responding to him. Evident with how his eyes fluttered open and the smallest of smiles broke over his face. He was trying to speak but he couldn’t and all Wei Wuxian could do in response was give his best bright grin though it lacked the normal warmth and sincerity. “Yes, Lan Zhan, it’s me, your Wei Ying. I came back, like I promised I would.”
He tutted softly and shook his head, voice soft and betraying his worry. “Look at this, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. I never would have thought that the great Hanguang-Jun would need little old me to save him.” He was rambling, something he was very aware of, and yet he couldn’t stop. “I mean, honestly, if this becomes a regular occurrence I’m not sure what I will do with myself. I might have to go out looking for trouble on purpose just so I can feel special again. I much prefer it the other way around, Lan Zhan, you’re supposed to be the one that pulls me out of trouble.”
Oh, look, an eye roll, perfect. Wei Wuxian clung onto that as a sign that there was still some fight left in Lan Wangji. He was well-read enough to know what was causing such distress and the information shared by the healers had just confirmed his theory. When this was over and Lan Wangji was feeling better he was going to have some serious words with him about keeping such an important thing a secret from everybody, but mostly about keeping such an important secret from him .
To hell with everything and most especially the sense of proprietary as Lan Wangji’s life was at stake, he could be lectured later, Wei Wuxian immediately straddled the taller man’s hips and cradled his face in his hands, ignoring the gasps of shock from those in the room. “How could you think I didn’t feel the same way, Lan Zhan?” He shook his head. “If I wasn’t so worried I’d be telling you what a huge fool you are and how you really need to pay better attention. You’d think somebody who prides himself on having such attention to detail you would have seen all the signs, but-”
Wei Wuxian stopped talking when Lan Wangji began to wheeze, entire body seizing and eyes fluttering. “No, no, no,” he begged softly with a shake of his head. “Don’t you dare leave me, Lan Zhan.” The worst and most heartbreaking thing was the look in Lan Wangji’s eyes, an apology and a goodbye, and that sealed it for Wei Wuxian; he closed what little distance separated them and covered Lan Wangji’s mouth with his, hoping and praying it wasn’t too late.
Lan Wangji was still, unresponsive, and for several horrifying minutes or seconds (aren’t they one and the same?) Wei Wuxian feared he was too late, had taken too long, and he was going to lose his soulmate. “Not like this,” he murmured with a shake of his head as he pressed a further kiss to Lan Wangji’s mouth. “Please, Lan Zhan. Don’t leave me. Please just open your eyes and tell me what an idiot I am. Scold me, punish me, I don’t care, just don’t leave me in this world without you. I’m not as strong as you are, I can’t live without you.”
At some point Wei Wuxian couldn’t remember when exactly but he’d leaned down and pressed his forehead against Lan Wangji’s, fingers enveloped in the dark strands of the other man’s hair, cradling his head while still pleading for him to be okay. The other was still not moving, still not responding, and Wei Wuxian felt the familiar stirrings of guilt and self loathing, but when there was a familiar rumble of a warm honey rich voice speaking his name he was certain that if not for the firm grip of strong Lan hands he would have passed out right there and then.
It took Wei Wuxian a further moment to finally lean back as he’d been so afraid that perhaps he was having some sort of break from reality, imagining hearing Lan Wangji’s voice and feeling his hands on him, that he hadn’t wanted to. All of those concerns, however, melted away the moment he looked deep into Lan Wangji’s tired but very open eyes and a relieved burst of laughter escaped his chest.
He would have started to talk, babble probably, but Lan Wangji had other ideas as he with hands fastened tightly in Wei Wuxian’s robes pulled him down and into a much deeper kiss, one that was fire and electricity and it literally took all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control (ha, self-control, him? Hilarious) not to make a rather obscene sound into Lan Wangji’s mouth.
Eventually they were forced to part when air rather ironically became an issue.
“Lan Zhan, so mean, so cruel . Making me worry like this,” he admonished quietly. “If you missed me so much you could have just told me rather than making such a big scene.”
Whilst Lan Wangji was not saying much Wei Wuxian could tell that he was amused and a weight that had been sitting on Wei Wuxian’s chest since the moment he’d heard that the other man was gravely ill finally felt like it had lifted. Still, there had not been enough kissing for his liking and yes Lan Wangji needed to recover, but, still, much more kissing needed to be done.
It honestly didn’t even matter that they were in the Healers Pavilion surrounded by people when it came to the two of them the world just seemed to melt away and all that mattered was that Lan Wangji was alive and Wei Wuxian was right there with him, the feelings he’d had since he was fifteen returned and in full force.
Love might have very nearly been the death of Lan Wangji, but it was also the very thing that saved his life.
