I need more Chengxian headcanons 👀
they’re still young enough to share a room, wei ying - wei wuxian now, still seen by madam yu as an orphaned child taken into the household rather than a cuckoo in their nest, not yet a threat to her a-cheng. they’re heavy limbed and content; tired from a day of swimming and splashing with their shidis and shimeis, their bellies full with dinner.
but they can’t sleep, wei wuxian throwing away his covers, starfished and too sticky. summer nights in lotus pier are syrupy sweet, more suffocating than in the ones he remembers from yiling, a choir of bugs deafeningly loud outside. or perhaps he’s yet to become familiar with sleeping in doors, can't rid himself of the habit of napping in drips and drabs, like a mouse under a broomstick.
he looks over to jiang cheng’s bed and knows instantly his shidi's awake as well; when he's truly asleep he trashes like a fish plucked from water. wei wuxian has found him wandering the pier at times, deeply asleep.
perhaps this is why the son of a servant is still allowed to room with yunmeng’s young master.
he’s curled into a tight little ball, squeezed in on himself. like an armadillo, wei wuxian grins shifting from the bed to drape himself over jiang cheng’s back.
'uh get off, it's too hot' jiang cheng grumbles in that way that suggests he doesn't mind it, attempts to elbow wei wuxian in the ribs but only half heartedly. wei wuxian can tell by now that it's only a token protest, jiang cheng's already relaxing into the loose embrace, uncurling from himself and tangling their legs easily together, ankles knocking. joy had burst in his mouth like overripe fruit when he first learned how much jiang cheng liked to be held. how much wei wuxian liked holding him. how much he liked when jiang cheng clung back. he resists the finger-twitch to clutch at him tighter just at the hazy memory of it, hides a smile in jiang cheng's shoulder instead.
jiang cheng's hair is omnipresent like this, a dark thick cloud smelling of lotus blossom soap and woodsy oils from his bath, tickling wei wuxian's cheeks and nose. he sneezes.
'oi!' jiang cheng turns to glare at him, freckled face pinched in offence. wei wuxian sneezes again. unapologetic, it seems.
'uh it's your hair!' wei wuxian complains. or half complains. he's not sure. he's not sure if he's allowed. he's not sure if he's allowed to like it. to like jiang cheng. in a way he can't quite explain. in a way....that feels as if it's on the precipice...of something.
'it's everywhere! don't you brush it?'
'of course i brush it' jiang cheng replies hotly. it's just like that goes unsaid for it would only add insult to injury. wei wuxian might be the former urchin, but somehow it's always jiang cheng who looks like he's rolled out of the bushes. wei wuxian grins, motions jiang cheng to lay back down. he runs his fingers through his shidi's hair. it's soft. huh. he expected it to be coarse. like horsehair. the scrape of his nails against jiang cheng's scalp ever gentle as jiang cheng goes pleasantly boneless against him. wei wuxian bites back a laugh. so much like a cat, hisses plenty but give him pets and he's putty in your hands. he parts thick strands in three and twines them with each other, lulled by the hypnotic ritual. one under the other and then one over, just like shijie taught him. his fingers grow sluggish and drowsy, jiang cheng's even breaths catching him like a spell.
