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Chapter Text

There were no signs from gods. 

No allegorical dreams. No mythical creatures showing up unexpectedly in the most bizarre circumstances to grant him an insight into the future. There was not a single thing that would sensibly explain why Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street (huge stretch to call the crooked, narrow pavement a street, really), deep in thought, with his brow slightly furrowed, and gaze absent. 

Just mere seconds later he turned on his heel, gripped Little Apple’s bridle harder, and started walking towards the gate of the shabby, seemingly abandoned village where he just recently arrived. His stride was confident and steady, because he had a clear goal in mind and no hesitation in his judgement.

He needed to get to Gusu. 

Little more than a year passed since he and Lan Zhan parted ways in the mountains. Lan Zhan was, well – Chief Cultivator now. He knew better than everyone the importance of his role, having personally witnessed two of his predecessors go down, shamelessly shattering the image the position had held. If there was anybody who could mend the ruins they left behind, the chaos that entailed everywhere you’d turn to look – it was Hanguang-jun. 

Wei Wuxian knew that he had needed a break, too – having been dead for sixteen years, he had some catching up to do. In a way, he needed to learn how to live again. How to operate in a world where those who remember him either still want him dead, or had already mourned him. In a world that didn’t change at all, he thought, at the same time (painfully) aware of all the contexts he was missing out on. Events of little and big importance; of all the whos, whats, with whoms, and hows.  

He had enjoyed this little journey of his for the most part, of course he did. Free-spirited, talkative, and adventurous, with a cheeky smile, and liquor poured for him by whoever he turned his attention to, he could always find his way around. At least, he could always try. Sure, Wei Wuxian was tired, and he was getting gradually more tired as the seasons went by, but physical exhaustion seemed a fair price for the years gone. And only for them – he never, not even for a moment believed he could pay for what had happened prior to his death.

For what he had done prior to the fall. 

Perhaps now, after all these months on the road, this overcompensation of a lifestyle started to take a toll on him. Because if there was one thing he wanted, it wasn’t the joyous, drunken atmosphere of an inn in another, random village; not the people he met there, and not even the spark of danger of the various night hunts he so eagerly took up.

Because right now, he needed to go back to Gusu, he needed to go back to the Cloud Recesses, to Lan Zhan, and he needed to do that as soon as possible, as soon as his feeble legs and his stubborn donkey would allow. And now, he could only pray to whatever gods there were, whoever was there willing to hear him out. Pray that he would be allowed entrance, that Lan Zhan would still want him, messy, and an interruption. 

He would never admit that he was doubting whether he was still granted the privilege. But Wei Wuxian was not known for stalling, no. 

***

As the sun started setting, a black-clad figure stopped in front of the entrance to the Cloud Recesses, brushed the slightly sweaty hair out of his face with a loud sigh, and leaned heavily on the donkey standing next to him, getting a dissatisfied squeal in return.

“Oh, quiet, will you? I’m pretty sure there’s already at least one rule about you on that stupid wall,” Wei Wuxian whined, and exhaled again, looking mildly in pain. “I will never get used to those damn stairs here.”

“There’s two, actually.” Whoever was coming down his way from the Cloud Recesses was clearly amused. “And almost nobody ever climbs the damn stairs anyway, everyone just flies up here. Well, welcome back anyway, senior Wei!”

Wei Wuxian straightened up and grinned back at the boy in front of him, who bowed perhaps too quickly, but respectfully.

“Jingyi! Next time I’ll just drop you a note prior to my big arrival and make you collect me at the bottom of the mountain. I’m sure you can easily fly us both. And Little Apple. And if I hear you swear again I will have to report you to Hanguang-jun.” Wei Wuxian’s grin got even wider at the clearly unhappy, betrayed expression on Lan Jingyi’s face. The boy, looking leaner, taller than when Wei Wuxian last saw him, opened his mouth to voice his protest, but shut it when a hand reached his way and squeezed his shoulder in a friendly way. Hello. “It’s good to see you, Jingyi.” Wei Wuxian’s smile was more genuine now, as he was absentmindedly playing with Little Apple’s bridle. The donkey huffed and puffed at him every few seconds, impatient and annoyed. 

Jingyi must have instantly noticed how tired the man looked: his face was pale in the cool, evening light, his hair kind of a mess due to the autumn wind; he was panting, as if he hadn't stopped for a break once he had set his mind on the destination. Wei Wuxian didn’t necessarily look terrible (definitely not Burial-Mounds-Escape level terrible), but it was pretty clear that he needed to head to someplace warm and eat something, in this exact order.

“You—oh, follow me, senior Wei.”

Although a bit resigned, he bowed once again and led a still smiling Wei Wuxian in through the gate, towards the internal area of the Cloud Recesses. Little Apple was putting up a small fight, and Jingyi wasn’t sure whose grunts were louder now – the donkey’s, or senior Wei’s. He scowled. “Please just hand me this animal, she clearly doesn’t like you! Animal abuse is forbidden.” In one smooth movement he took the reins from Wei Wuxian’s hand (“Hey! I had this!”) and began walking with the donkey – politely obeying him – beside him. 

“So that’s how it is, huh!”

Wei Wuxian shot them both a betrayed look, but sped up his pace and started looking around the surroundings, trying to take everything in. Pretty. Have the Cloud Recesses always been so pretty? Wei Wuxian wondered.

“Wait, Jingyi, what did you even mean by two ? Are you seriously saying that two of the four thousand rules of the Gusu Lan Clan are about a donkey? My donkey?”

“I wouldn’t feel so special if I were you, senior Wei. One of them is keeping a pet donkey is forbidden.” Jingyi smirked. “And the second was added immediately after that. Befriending Wei Ying’s donkey is even more forbidden.”

Now it was Wei Wuxian who snorted, unbelieving.

 “What the–”

An accusatory finger was directed at him.

“Didn’t you say something about swearing, senior Wei? Are you going to report yourself to Hanguang-jun, too?”. One look at how Wei Wuxian’s expression changed when he turned his gaze towards the silhouettes of the central buildings, getting closer with each step, was enough for Jingyi to sigh and give up. “What the hell, anyway. I will get Little Apple to the stables, you can look for Hang–”

Wei Wuxian was now looking at him with a hint of panic on his face as he abruptly stopped and dragged Jingyi (and Little Apple) with him behind the nearest column. As if that was enough to shelter them from… anything.

“Wait? No, no, don’t you need to like, announce me? I mean, I don’t want to just go there and startle everybody, Lan Zh—Hanguang-jun must be very busy, perhaps you could just—you can just walk me to the guest chamber, or something, and I’ll—”

If do not interrupt others when they speak was a Gusu rule (and Wei Wuxian was pretty damn sure it had been when he was a guest disciple), it definitely wasn’t one of Jingyi’s favourites.

“What, are you insane? What would Hanguang-jun think if I just hid his guest?", he cried, desperately trying to set free from Wei Wuxian’s iron grip on his robes. “Wait, are you saying—Did you not write to Hanguang-jun? That you’re coming back?! I thought it was arranged, that’s why I let you in! I just happened to be near the gate! And now you’re saying that you’re not even a guest!”

“No! I mean, yes. I didn’t. I mean…Surprise?”. Wei Wuxian laughed nervously as Jingyi gaped at him in shock. He really should have lied.

“I can’t believe this. And you never even—”. Jingyi threw his hands in the air in a swoosh of white, getting an alarmed squeal from Little Apple and Wei Wuxian in return. “I’m going to the stables, and you—you know where everything is! I can’t believe—I didn’t even ask—”

Noticing his intense internal fight, Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue, but let go of Jingyi’s robes.

“Come on now, Jingyi, it’s okay! No one would blame you anyway!”. Do not accept disciples without careful screenings.  “You can always say that you were fooled by the evil—”

“Wei Ying?”

A voice behind them startled them both; they didn’t notice when a figure in white approached and stopped next to the three of them – a haggard-looking man, a panicked disciple, and an obnoxious donkey – in front of the Library Pavillon.

Jingyi bowed deeply in the direction of the man, still holding Little Apple by the reins.

“Hanguang-jun! This one is terribly sorry, I didn’t know senior Wei's arrival hasn’t been announ—”

“Don’t be silly, Jingyi, it’s me who comes unannounced.” Hopefully not unwelcomed. Wei Wuxian cleared his throat. “Hi, Lan Zhan!”

He couldn’t stop himself from taking a small step closer to Lan Zhan and fixing his gaze on his face. He didn’t see his best friend for so long, damn it if it’s weird or inappropriate to stare at him like an insane person would instead of greeting him properly. Or explaining his sudden appearance at his literal doorstep. So, he just grinned.

“I guess you’ve heard everything, haven’t you? Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m coming, really! But…I kind of decided at the last minute? Please don’t kick me out before dinner, I haven’t eaten yet?”

Lan Zhan was looking at him with not the slightest hint of anger. Standing tall in his full Chief Cultivator attire with one hand on his sword and other elegantly bent behind him, with his back straight and the moon casting a delicate glow on his face, he looked nothing short of impressive. And beautiful, especially in comparison to Wei Wuxian, who stood there with a fake pout on his face, his arms crossed defensively on his chest, the flute stuck behind the belt, and the bag (a bag-looking piece of dirty cloth, to be fair) clumsily thrown over his arm. 

Even if Lan Zhan would find the situation ridiculous a lifetime ago, now his face just softened and his eyes darkened. Wei Wuxian missed him so much he could only smile wider and continue the staring contest between them.

“Nobody is kicking you out, Wei Ying.” After a moment, Lan Zhan turned his attention towards Jingyi, who was still standing in the same place, with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Jingyi. Please take Little Apple to the stables and continue your evening activities. Thank you for letting Wei Ying in.” 

With a slight nod of his head, Lan Zhan indicated that the boy was dismissed, and Jingyi didn’t waste any more time – he quickly bowed in their general direction one last time and disappeared, walking the donkey with no audible protests from either side.

Now that they were alone, Wei Wuxian giggled awkwardly, shifting his bag and fixing his robe. Lan Zhan’s soft expression changed into one of worry as he looked him up and down, taking in his general state.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, stop frowning or you’ll get wrinkles, I’m fine!”, Wei Wuxian exclaimed happily. “It’s just the road and the weather. Terrible. Feed me some of your rabbit food and I’ll get better in an instant!”

Lan Zhan fixed his gaze on Wei Wuxian’s face, but refrained from further comments. Instead, he nodded and turned on his heel to start walking towards the direction of the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian hesitated, but seeing that the man paid his hesitation no mind, he ran up to walk by his side. 

I guess we’re skipping the “hi, how have you been?” part. And every single other preamble.

“Wait, are we walking to the Jingshi right away? I thought I would—I should probably greet your Uncle?”

“Tomorrow," Lan Zhan replied. “Uncle is out on Clan business.”

“Oh”, Wei Wuxian murmured. Tomorrow implies… future. It implies that he would stay in the Cloud Recesses for at least one more day. Good. “But I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Lan Zhan, you can show me the guest chambers first—”

“You are not troubling me, Wei Ying”. Lan Zhan slowed down to look at him attentively, and asked, “Would you wish to stay in the guest chambers instead?”

“No!”, Wei Wuxian exclaimed. No. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I just, you know. We haven’t seen each other for over a year and I barge on you like this, I come unannounced, I bring my smelly donkey with me, I probably stink a little too, sorry for that, I corrupt one of your best disciples, and mind you, I haven’t seen Sizhui yet, but he isn’t here anyway, is he—and then! Then I demand your undivided attention on top of that! I wouldn’t like to annoy you too much, Lan Zhan, as much as I'd enjoy—". Your presence. 

Suddenly, he stumbled on a previously invisible pebble (he could swear it hadn't been there) and tripped, holding out to grab Lan Zhan’s arm before he could fall. Lan Zhan looked at him in alarm and stopped – they were at the entrance to the Jingshi, anyway. “Ah, sh–thank you, I’m okay, it’s just—as I was saying, this is great, really, Lan Zhan, I’d love to stay with you in the Jingshi. I just don’t want to give your Uncle one more reason to put a Wei Wuxian is forbidden rule on the wall!”

One, serious glance from Lan Zhan was enough to stop his babbling. 

“Wei Ying. You need to rest and you need to eat. Then we will talk”, Lan Zhan said calmly, letting Wei Wuxian in the Jingshi, before he took his shoes off and entered. “And you are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish”, he added, tone disallowing for any argument. He was kind enough to disregard the last comment. 

Wei Wuxian just smiled at him, somewhat weakly this time, and nodded.

*** 

It turned out that arranging a corner of the Jingshi for Wei Wuxian’s exclusive use was suspiciously easy. After he dumped his things (not that there were many) on the apparently spare bed (“Has it always been here, Lan Zhan? I don’t remember seeing it before”. “Mn.”), he took a bath that felt near heavenly (“Lan Zhan”, he teased from behind the privacy screen, trying to not think about the man waiting for him at the table, slowly and elegantly sipping his awful tea. “Cut the crap, have you been expecting me somehow? Because I was telling the truth, I didn't realise what I’m doing until I just decided it’s time I come back”. “Mn.”), and when he finally plumped down – clean and with some of the weariness hopefully gone from his face – he allowed himself to let out a contented sigh, before he turned his gaze to Lan Zhan. 

Only now had he noticed that Lan Zhan, too, looked somewhat… Off. Not particularly tired or sick, no – not a single hair was out of place, not a wrinkle visible on his pristine white robes. His face never revealed much, but Wei Wuxian – who prized himself as an expert when it came to the miniature changes in Lan Zhan’s expressions, otherwise going practically unnoticed to an inexperienced eye – detected the slightest line between his eyebrows, like he was stuck on some unsolvable problem. The tension in his shoulders. 

As if he was holding his breath, waiting for the right moment to exhale. As if he didn’t know if he could.

“You look tired”, they said at the same time, both so focused on the careful observation of the other that they failed to notice two can play that game. 

Wei Wuxian openly laughed and Lan Zhan looked down.

“I guess the bath didn’t help in my case, after all”, Wei Wuxian said. Lan Zhan nodded politely and gracefully raised from his seat to retrieve something from the cabinet nearby. “But you, Lan Zhan, tell me – is being Chief Cultivator that much of a pain in the ass? Is Clan Leader Y– aren’t those clan leaders annoying you too much?”

Lan Zhan returned to the table with a white bottle in his hand. Wei Wuxian’s small oh wasn’t probably the most grateful reaction he could muster upon being poured his favourite liquor, which Lan Zhan had apparently stored in the Jingshi.

“You’re unbelievable, Hanguang-jun, you know that? Keeping the Emperor's Smile stacked in here?”. Wei Wuxian grinned as he took the cup from Lan Zhan’s warm hand. “Thank you, Lan Zhan. You’re too good.”

Lan Zhan barely waved his hand at him as he sat down elegantly and poured himself another cup of tea. 

“No need to mention it”. He looked at Wei Wuxian, disregarding the most ungracious position anybody ever sat in and his dishevelled state (Wei Wuxian might have not done his robes properly after the bath, too impatient to sit down and start talking). “I am glad you like it.”

We Wuxian thought that he needed to tell Lan Zhan to stop being so nice to him, or he would burst – he wasn’t used to people treating him like this. He almost (almost) forgot that it was because it was only Lan Zhan who treated him like that.

“But you’re ignoring me! I asked how you were, Hanguang-jun”, whined Wei Wuxian from above his second cup of the Emperor’s Smile.

Lan Zhan pondered for a while and, in contrast, put his cup down. When he spoke, he was choosing his words carefully.

“It has been challenging. Many people are seeking help and assistance daily. Many clans are still resolving the problems the Jin’s reign and the war brought them.” He paused for a second, casting his gaze down. “It is difficult to change one’s mind about what they believed was the right choice. It sometimes makes the communication difficult, knowing that a lot of them do not realise what the real dangers were, back then.” That you weren’t one of them. That it was never truly, only you, who caused all this. The implication made the skin on the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck crawl. 

“Nevertheless, I have been managing.” I have been telling people that standing with justice with a clear conscience isn’t as black and white as it might seem, and it is fucking tiring, but I’m managing. Who else could. Who else would.

“Oh, Lan Zhan”, whispered Wei Wuxian in a voice way lower than he planned. It made Lan Zhan look up on him again, so he smiled. “But you have been doing an amazing job, from what I’ve heard, and believe me, when you stay in one village for three days and not a second longer, you get to hear a lot.”

Lan Zhan’s brows furrowed, and Wei Wuxian continued.

“People love you, Lan Zhan. They talk about you with the utmost respect wherever I’d ask. You must have been doing hell of a job, honestly! Do you realise how many people don’t believe me when I tell them that we’re friends? They take one look at me and assume I’m lying!”

“Ridiculous”, Lan Zhan huffed. “This isn’t how they should treat Wei Ying.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian giggled and reached to pat Lan Zhan’s hand on the table. “Don’t worry about that, I’m used to hearing worse!”

“You shouldn’t,” Lan Zhan murmured, not moving his hand from beneath Wei Wuxian’s cold one, but also not meeting his gaze. “I wish you weren’t.”

Wei Wuxian sighed and took a sip of his liquor. He spoke again, this time trying hard to sound serious. “What I meant is that being Chief Cultivator must suck. But you are doing wonderful things, Lan Zhan. I’m only sorry that you’re getting all the shit from the entire cultivation world”. He tried his best at what he thought was a reassuring smile. “And that you must carry it alone.”

“No need to be sorry.” This time, it was Lan Zhan who smiled reassuringly (even if smile was an overstatement, his lips did the thing where they curve upwards) and he took his hand, but only to place it on top of Wei Wuxian’s. Wei Wuxian grinned, taking in his warmth and gentleness. It was only when their dinner was delivered that he realised neither of them moved their hands. And if Lan Zhan got up again only to retrieve a bottle of chilli to silently hand it to a beaming Wei Wuxian, nobody commented on that.

They ate in silence – that is, Lan Zhan ate in silence while Wei Wuxian was happily blabbering about everything and nothing in particular. The weird city in the south where people, brooding and hostile, would try to sell him plants that looked hardly edible but very much alive. The strange but stunning phenomena he got in the midst of up in the east, where the sky turned bright pink as it rained for eight days and nights, leaving behind a glowing but quickly hardening layer of glittery, pink dust on the roofs, houses, and passersby. (“It was beautiful, Lan Zhan, I wish you were there to see it.”). The night hunts – the interesting and fairly unpredictable (“It turned out she wasn’t even possessed, she was just sick of her family and wanted to repay for the hell they made her go through.”), the usual, painfully monotone (“It wasn’t even a spirit, it was just a feral cow, can you believe?”), and the real deal – but of those he decided not to tell Lan Zhan, sparing him more worries, and himself the shame that came with being cared for. 

What difference do a few new scars make?  

Unsurprisingly by the standards of his luck that day, he just had to get the most violent coughing fit in both of his lives, one that got him wheezing and gasping for air, as Lan Zhan – on full alert like always – sprung to his feet to get closer to him. After a few minutes of trying to control his breathing and convincing Lan Zhan that it’s just the road and the weather (both tasks were way more difficult than they should be, honestly), Wei Wuxian finally managed to take a deep breath and sit back.

Despite feeling like he just ran up and down the stairs to the Cloud Recesses again, he found himself quite content: he was full of rabbit food turned spicy, warm, comfortably tipsy, and more snug than he had been for months. The Jingshi had a comforting effect on him; the lights and colours were soft, and so was Lan Zhan: his face, his gaze, his entire being. At some point it started raining. The raindrops fell heavily on the roof, a strangely consoling sound.

Wei Wuxian might have been tipsy, but he was also only a man, and he recognized beauty, grace, and light as they were. And fuck him if they weren’t sitting right opposite him – if Lan Zhan wasn’t all of those things.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s unexpectedly low tone interrupted the sound of the rain. “Why did you come back?”

This time, Wei Wuxian couldn’t bring himself to engage in white lies. He couldn’t omit the inconvenient parts and turn the pleading question into a joke. For the first time tonight, he was certain that he didn’t want to. Holding Lan Zhan’s gaze, he smiled at him, but the wetness of his voice gave him away.

“Because I missed you," the words rolled off his tongue almost too easily. “I missed you, and I’m tired, and I’m scared of being alone. I have been alone for far too long," he confessed. “I’m sick of it, I guess. Pretty selfish of me, isn’t it? But it’s the truth. I— wanted to see you.” Be with you. “You might find it fairly dramatic, Lan Zhan, but that’s how it’s always been with me, in the end. Being on my own never really meant that I was being independent. It mostly meant that I was one step from madness.”

Lan Zhan looked like he was in pain now. If Wei Wuxian trusted himself more, he could say that the hands in his friend’s lap were trembling. He just sent him a tight smile: he didn’t expect any answer to the outburst. He was surprised how easy it was, admitting it all; he didn’t regret his words, yet, but he suddenly felt very heavy – both with physical and emotional exhaustion. 

Wei Wuxian could only hope he hadn’t made Lan Zhan feel the same way.

“Wei Ying.” Although still quiet, Lan Zhan’s voice was steady when he leaned over the low table, probably to get his point across. Wei Wuxian could almost feel the warmth shift closer to him. “You don’t have to do everything alone. You don’t have to be alone.” Wei Wuxian felt a warm hand on his knee, and swallowed the tears.

“I just think I’m used to being like this, you know, Lan Zhan? Habits.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Lan Zhan now. “But… That’s the thing. I want to try. This is also why I came back. Why I come running back. I want to stop being like… this,” he gestured vaguely.

“You do not have to change who you are. You should never have to change who you are." Lan Zhan squeezed his knee harder. “But you can let others in. You should let others take care of you, too. This is not a selfish thing to do. You are not selfish.”

“Others as in the esteemed Hanguang-jun?”, Wei Wuxian tried to lighten up the atmosphere, but he was met with an unyielding conviction in Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“Yes. If only you would let me.”

There was no denying the tears that streamed freely down Wei Wuxian’s face. He laughed humorlessly. 

“You really are unbelievable, Lan Zhan.” He shook his head, but the words that came didn’t feel quite as bad as he would expect. “Yes, hell, I would want that. Hah. I would like Hanguang-jun to take care of this fragile, feeble man… Even if the esteemed Hanguang-jun, the Chief Cultivator, is never going to admit that he missed me, too. Rude.”

The confession rolled off his tongue easily, as if the words were waiting upon his lips only for him to formulate them.

With a small smile returning to his face, Wei Wuxian wiped the tears impatiently with the back of his hand. The warmth on his knee was gone when Lan Zhan leaned back to his previous position, but instantly he received a gentle, tiny smile instead.

“Chief Cultivator sends his kindest regards and confirms the inquiry.” If the circumstances were different, Wei Wuxian would yell out “See! I have always been saying that Lan Zhan is the funniest person!”, but now he was just fighting with another round of tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I missed you too, Wei Ying.”

***

When Wei Wuxian woke up the next morning, it was hardly even morning at all. Lan Zhan was probably up and about for hours now, but for Wei Wuxian it was the first time in months that he slept so well; no dreams, no innkeepers yelling at Little Apple outside his window, no gurgling sounds coming from his stomach, reminding him that he probably was a bit off the meals schedule. But after the breakfast that arrived just when he was about to start looking for the kitchen himself (bless Lan Zhan’s immaculate timing), he had not a single worry (or responsibility, for that matter), so he decided to do what he does best: be a menace.

And just like that, he fell into a routine, as if he never left Gusu at all. He visited Lan Qiren, who probably wasn’t any happier to see him, but at least he didn’t say anything particularly vicious. In fact, his reaction was little more than an irritated huff and offhand welcome before he decided to simply ignore Wei Wuxian’s sole existence whatsoever. Not that Wei Wuxian minded – it was an improvement, actually. Surprisingly enough, Lan Qiren expressed no discontentment about the fact that his nephew’s evenings were exclusively devoted to him. Acceptance is the last stage of grief, Wei Wuxian thought.

Even stranger, he seemed to turn a blind eye to one more thing, namely a practice that Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian unknowingly started one evening. As they were sitting in the Library Pavillon discussing spirit communication practices and the hypothetical use of communication talismans, they were joined by an enticed (and honestly quite bored, since his best friend was still somewhere out there, discovering the world, or whatever) Jingyi, who – finished with his homework – was listening to their discussion with sparked interest. Soon enough, they were joined by a few other disciples, and before Wei Wuxian even noticed, what started as a friendly talk between two friends with similar opinions, but different approaches, quickly turned into an entire lesson on talismans theory and practice, the students hanging on their every word. 

Lan Zhan had to break the spell at some point when it turned out how late it was, and if the Lan disciples were half as bratty as Wei Wuxian had been, they would probably start whining and stomping their feet. However, one look at Hanguang-jun was enough to discourage any complaints. With a promise of continuing their little session someday, the juniors (led by Jingyi) bowed and left for the night, while Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian left for their evening stroll (because this, apparently, was a thing now, too).

It became apparent that Wei Wuxian didn’t miss at all when he so confidently announced that everybody loved Lan Zhan, because one look at the way his disciples behaved around him was enough. It wasn’t like Wei Wuxian had never noticed it before, of course – he witnessed on multiple occasions how the young Lan juniors eagerly await Lan Zhan’s approval and praise. They looked up to him so much it made Wei Wuxian’s heart swell with pride; demanding but fair, quiet but never forgetting the importance of feedback, supportive and encouraging, Lan Zhan was a wonderful teacher. 

(“The kids love you, Lan Zhan. This is ridiculous, I don’t even have it in me to tease you.” “Mn. They like Wei Ying, too.” “Nonsense! They’re probably terrified. Or weirded out. Only Jingyi seems to genuinely enjoy my stories about spirit-snatching sculptures.” “Not true. I like them, too.” “Oh, shut up, Lan Zhan, I’m blushing.” “Mn.”)

Needless to say, the Library Pavillon was quickly becoming Wei Wuxian’s second favourite place in the Cloud Recesses (which fact would probably drive his teenage self insane). Mostly due to the regular meet-ups with the kids, and to the fact the number of books of various nature and origin stored there was absolutely sickening. And while Wei Wuxian hated boredom and the general feeling libraries gave off, he knew better than to disregard the importance of literature. He also knew better than to sneak in the restricted area to fulfil his curiosity while the juniors were still there…. But what they didn’t see after they left, couldn’t corrupt them (and couldn’t send Lan Qiren into qi deviation, too). If Lan Zhan knew, which he most likely did, he never said a word.

When Lan Zhan was busy being the most important person in the world, Wei Wuxian did his little Wei Wuxian things. He actually prepared for next classes with the juniors – he tried to remember some of the spirits and monsters he encountered during his travels, and come up with test questions and solutions the disciples could learn. He played his flute, although by the lake, where he couldn’t be heard by Lan Qiren and falsely accused of trying to come up with something evil, again. He finally practised Cleansing, gently prompted by Lan Zhan, but he also played whatever came to his mind. Some of his own songs. Often, the one song Lan Zhan wrote that he still didn’t know the name of (“I will coax it out of you, Lan Zhan! Just wait” “I am waiting.”). He wandered around; he visited Little Apple, who was always grunting loudly at him unless he came prepared and fed her apples (the ungrateful brat); he played with Lan Zhan’s rabbits (they look well-cared for, Lan Zhan, you terrible, soft man). Sometimes, he just stayed in the Jingshi and breathed in the smell of sandalwood; took in the way the trees outside began to lose their leaves. He burned an incense and read, propped on his stomach on the floor on Lan Zhan’s side of the room. Cleaned his corner, and made tea for Lan Zhan to be ready the moment he came back home. 

This was his favourite moment of the day, admittedly. He hated how busy Lan Zhan’s days were at times, filled with meetings both in and outside the Cloud Recesses, letters, and documents to be reviewed. Once he half-jokingly suggested that he could help with the less taxing (but nonetheless annoying) task that was the correspondence; to Wei Wuxian’s actual surprise, Lan Zhan thanked him and agreed. So now, a part of his days was devoted to accompanying the stoic Chief Cultivator in the Lanshi, going through the zillionth request for assistance of the day, and sorting – throwing – the letters into two categories: trash, and trash Lan Zhan is probably requested to reply to.

(“Lan Zhan, there’s like… three separate letters from Clan Leader Yao, is he your secret admirer or something? Or dying?” “Trash.” “But there’s three of th-– wait, they’re identical? What the fuck? Is the guy that bored? Doesn’t he have a clan to run?” “As I said. Trash. Let us have tea break soon, Wei Ying.” “Oh, Hanguang-jun. Marry me.” “Tea first.” “Lan Zhan!”)

Fortunately, the evenings were theirs to have. Although Wei Wuxian would never admit that, the Lan biological clock was working on him, too. Not that he fell asleep the moment it stroke nine, like Lan Zhan surely did (Wei Wuxian witnessed his impeccable timing put to work too many times, especially when they talked for too long, already lying in their beds on the opposite sides of the room, and suddenly his words were met with nothing but silence, followed by even, deep breaths). Still, he did get regular sleep. 

When it wasn’t raining, they walked. When they felt like staying in, they read. Oftentimes, Lan Zhan played the guqin for him. When they had suspiciously much time on their hands (well, Lan Zhan did), they visited Caiyi and had dinner or tea there, too. Sometimes both.

Not a single person seemed to notice (or mind) the perfect rhythm they naturally found again. For Wei Wuxian, simply being with Lan Zhan was the most natural thing ever, like breathing. Neither of them missed a beat; they always found a way to each other at the end of the day, even after the most hectic days. When Lan Zhan left for an urgent help request for a few, terribly cold and windy days, Wei Wuxian stayed in the Cloud Recesses and continued their tradition of evening classes with the juniors. When Lan Zhan came back, Wei Wuxian took his wet outer robe and served him tea; when they started talking, it was as if they paused just for a minute, not days. It was natural like that.

One thing they never talked about were Lan Zhan’s weekly visits to the Hanshi. Wei Wuxian figured that Lan Xichen, still in seclusion, wasn’t keen on spending the limited free time he allowed himself to with anyone but his brother (what even is free time when you’re in solitary seclusion, Wei Wuxian wondered). He didn’t want to pry, especially taking into consideration how deep in thought Lan Zhan always seemed to be after the visits; his expression was impenetrable even to Wei Wuxian, which didn’t happen that often. He would just ask politely how Lan Xichen was and if everything was all right – to which he always received a nod in response.

Until one time when it was Lan Zhan who mentioned his brother.

It was a sunny afternoon, one that was a rare delight this time of the year. They were on their usual, quiet walk – they exchanged pleased looks from time to time, their arms brushing and their feet carrying them over to the cold spring, farther away from the Cold Pond Cave, into the woods. This time, however, the silence appeared louder to Wei Wuxian. He felt like Lan Zhan was on the verge of saying something for the entire day, and when he finally did, it wasn’t something he’d ever expected to hear.

“You have been very talkative lately, Wei Ying." Lan Zhan’s tone wasn’t judgemental, it was…puzzled. 

Wei Wuxian’s small grin dropped from his face. 

“Oh, my god. If you’re about to tell me now, after all these years, that I am talking too much, I’m not sure if I’m going to handle it with any dignity, I’m serious.”

Lan Zhan stopped in his tracks and shook his head, his face unreadable.

“No, this is not what I meant. I meant to say that you have been talking very freely. About yourself.” 

They were standing on a narrow, forest path, completely surrounded by thick bushes and pines. Seeing a confused expression on Wei Wuxian’s face, Lan Zhan continued in a determined tone.

“Wei Ying," he started, catching and holding Wei Wuxian’s unsure gaze. “You do talk a lot. There is nothing wrong with that. But you rarely talk about your experiences from your personal perspective. About your plans. You barely share your thoughts, feelings, or concerns. You avoid reminiscing.”

Wei Wuxian gulped and fixed his gaze on the ground. He needed a moment to fully grasp what just happened, because holy shit, Lan Zhan had a point. A damn good one, at that. 

He nodded. “I... guess you’re right, Lan Zhan. I mean, you are.” Once he was sure Lan Zhan didn’t want to add anything else, he said, “I think it’s part of what I told you the night I arrived, you know? About how I want to fix things. I just figured staying secretive never did me any good, didn’t it?”

“It didn’t do anybody any good," Lan Zhan murmured, his hand on Bichen tightening. Wei Wuxian needed a moment for the words to land. Oh, fuck.

He gripped Lan Zhan’s arm and looked at him with wide eyes, in complete understanding. 

Lan Zhan noticed this change, because it was him who was kept in the dark. It was him who was left with nothing but scraps of information and no body to account for the dead man. Only this, for sixteen years. Years that for Wei Wuxian were barely a dream, Lan Zhan spent wondering, and going over and over their every conversation in search of clues. In search of any signs that he could, or could not, predict and stop the world from crashing down on them.

He was scared and longing, too. Only longer.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t believe that he never once thought about it during the sleepless, restless nights. Tears of sadness and anger mixed on his face as Lan Zhan looked at him with the same determination, but soft eyes.

“Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian whispered. “I am so sorry. I never said I was sorry, I—”

“No need for sorry between us.” Lan Zhan grabbed the hand holding his arm. “I did not say that to make you feel worse. I said it because it is a good thing, Wei Ying. Please don’t stop talking.”

Standing under the clear sky, Wei Wuxian thought it was unnecessarily cruel, to make them have this conversation with the autumn sun shining so brightly, even as it was setting. But even if it felt vulnerable, it didn’t feel bad.

It wasn’t the most gracious move of his life when he swayed Lan Zhan’s arm away and hugged his neck instead, but it was one of the most honest and genuine. For a long moment they just stood in silence, inelegant, sobbing noises coming from one of them. After a short while Lan Zhan raised his arms and embraced Wei Wuxian’s waist. His grip was as steady as expected, but also warmer. Tighter. Another round of tears left Wei Wuxian’s eyes when Lan Zhan started rubbing his back.

“Lan Zhan," he huffed. “Do you realise this is the first time we’re actually voluntarily hugging? Took us some time. Are we doing this now? Hugging, I mean? Because I could get used to that. You are a great hugger, Hanguang-jun.” 

He could feel Lan Zhan’s lips twitching where they were pressed to his hair. “I’m glad."

When they finally separated it was already dark. They started walking back to the Jingshi when it turned out that it wasn’t the end of revelations from Lan Zhan’s side.

“Wei Ying." His tone was serious this time. “I meant what I said. And I trust it is essential that you share about the past. That you reminisce.”

“What do you mean, Lan Zhan? Do you want me to write a journal or something? I don’t think it would sell very well.”

“No." Lan Zhan’s determination was evident. “Why write when you can talk? I appreciate you telling me what you think. Feel. Stories I haven’t heard before. I wish I heard them earlier. I wish I had known earlier. I must not be the only one who thinks that.”

Wei Wuxian frowned.

“What are you suggesting, then? That I come up to random people and ask them to hear me out? My apologies, gongzi, but do you have some time to talk about me? This is a very noble idea, Lan Zhan, if you’re willing to live with me embarrassing you like that.” When Lan Zhan didn’t respond, Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened. “Wait. You actually think that I should do that?”

“No, not necessarily. Sharing with random people is nothing but blabbering.” Wei Wuxian snorted. “Share with those who want to hear you out. Who should hear you out.”

His laughter got cut short. “You cannot seriously suggest that I go around my—people I know and tell them, what exactly? What I had been up to when I disappeared from their lives at one point or another? What am I supposed to do, go to Jiang Cheng? Jin Ling? Tell him the story of how everything went to shit? Hell, your Uncle?”

They were nearing the Jingshi. Lan Zhan wasn’t smiling. He was very far from smiling, when he replied quietly:

“People should know.”

Wei Wuxian needed a moment to comprehend. Something in him ached.

“So you are suggesting that, Lan Zhan. Oh, wow, that’s—”. Wei Wuxian took a second to gather his frantic thoughts. 

Could it do any harm to just try? There were things people deserved to know, after all. Lan Zhan was right. Maybe if they knew… Maybe if he hadn't kept so many secrets they wouldn’t backfire on him. His family. Miscommunication doesn’t flatter any relationship. It doesn’t do justice to anybody.

“That’s actually not a completely terrible idea?”, he agreed hesitantly. “But it would mean that I would have to leave for a bit.” Again. The words tasted bitter when he spoke, trying to make them sound better than he felt. “Which, of course, you could handle, but the kids would miss me too much, Lan Zhan—”

“We would have to leave,” Lan Zhan corrected him matter-of-factly. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t deal with your Chief Cultivator duties on the road! On the road with me, on top of that. You know I’m no help, I almost sent a letter to the wrong Clan Leader the other day.”

“I wouldn’t have to.” When did Lan Zhan become so stubborn? Scratch that, actually. He was always like this. “Brother is coming back. His seclusion is done. He will take over.”

Wait.

“Wait, what? Lan Zhan, what are you—You can’t just do that! You cannot just drop everything, Chief Cultivator responsibilities– the Clan, everything, and fuck off with me wherever I fancy!”

They stopped before they entered the Jingshi. The night was getting cold.

“I can." Lan Zhan’s gaze was piercing, unmoving. “And I will, if you wish me to accompany you. It has already been arranged.” The wind blew harder, Lan Zhan’s silky hair flowing around his serious face, his eyes burning with passion. “You said you’d let me.”

Lan Zhan was right, again. Wei Wuxian was shocked, to say the least. No, he was flabbergasted. Has he been hearing well? For sure this isn’t one of his crazy dreams?

But then, he remembered. He remembered Lan Zhan’s hectic life. The tiredness in his voice by the end of the week. The slight wrinkle between his brows, and how deliberately longer the tea breaks were getting. He remembered their talk from a moment ago, and from his first day back here. I missed you, too. Lan Xichen was coming back, it was arranged – so be it. Wei Wuxian couldn’t really find anything else to argue with. He felt like further arguing would be an insult to Lan Zhan’s attempts. His support.

He closed his mouth, sighed, and shook his head. His hand landed heavily on Lan Zhan’s arm as he dragged them towards the entrance to the Jingshi.

“All right, then," he beamed, turning to look at Lan Zhan over his shoulder. “How do you find Yunmeng in late autumn, then, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan replied with a trace of relief in his voice and the corners of mouth going up just the slightest, his posture immediately relaxed.

“Great.”

Chapter Text

And like this, they left for Yunmeng. 

It only took them a few days to arrange everything. Wei Wuxian packed the necessities, while Lan Zhan said goodbyes to his uncle, the disciples, and to his brother. Wei Wuxian bid farewell to everyone, too – perhaps excluding Lan Qiren. He met with Lan Xichen, although briefly. They had a short but polite small talk over tea, and Lan Xichen seemed genuinely interested in his and Lan Zhan’s plans. Wei Wuxian thought he looked better – stronger and healthier – than when he had last seen him. He also noticed that when Lan Xichen thought nobody was looking at him, his thoughts seemed to wander, his gaze empty, lips a thin line.

Ultimately, Wei Wuxian believed it was for the best that he came back to normal life. He trusted that taking over Lan Zhan’s position as the Chief Cultivator is going to do him good. And it looked like Lan Zhan agreed: it was surprisingly easy for him, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion, to hand over the reins to his brother. It took less time and formalities than anticipated, too. As it turned out, since it was Lan Xichen who was originally expected to step into the role, not Lan Zhan, facilitating the transition now went relatively smoothly. 

Having left Little Apple (they made sure to bring her one last treat) under Jingyi’s care, they set off on foot one morning. Lan Zhan asked curiously why they don’t fly on Bichen, but Wei Wuxian just brushed him off with a rather fake laughter turned into a cough, murmuring something absurd about getting lazy. 

“Come on, Lan Zhan, it’s gonna be fun! We used to walk everywhere all the time,” he pouted. Lan Zhan looked at him quizzically.

“We still walk a lot, Wei Ying. We walk everyday.” If Wei Wuxian’s squealed and his insides did a double flip at how familiar and domestic that sounded, he wished everybody minded their own business. He could swear he heard laughter coming from somewhere above him, but when he looked up, there was only a squirrel. And it was definitely minding its own business.

“Okay, but not like this,” he tried to argue. “Besides, I think I might be okay with walking some of the distance and then flying the rest. We need to find an inn before it gets dark, anyway. We did not pack a tent.”

Please tell me we actually did, Lan Zhan.

But Lan Zhan simply accepted his fate and nodded. They continued their walk in silence, and Wei Wuxian must have admitted, it was actually a very pleasant walk, quite different from their usual evening strolls. The way to Yunmeng was picturesque, and even if they still had a considerable distance to cover, they could expect the temperatures getting higher and more water surface to appear soon. 

There was something comforting about the presence of water, Wei Wuxian believed. He found himself calmer, his thoughts more collected around it. He loved hearing the children splash at one another in the Yunmeng lakes. He adored the sound of the paddles softly hitting the surface, occasionally getting tangled in lotus flowers. 

He dreamed about being underwater, sometimes. 

He gulped and unconsciously shifted closer to Lan Zhan (who definitely noticed, but kindly enough, did not say anything), when he suddenly remembered one more thing. He stopped, and Lan Zhan looked at him.

“I know what this reminds me of, Lan Zhan!”. He grinned and carried his feet over to a big rock at the shore of the lake on their left. “Remember the Xuanwu cave? Well, obviously you do, but my point is, we were walking a very similar path then, on our way to Mount Muxi! See? The lake on one side, see how it curves around there? And the caves? And the mountains on the other side. I knew it felt familiar!”

Lan Zhan’s head was slightly tilted to the side. He looked around and nodded approvingly. He didn’t even bat an eye when Wei Wuxian smiled proudly and plopped down on the rock with a big sigh. After a short consideration, he sat down gracefully next to him, their legs pressed together from thigh to toe. It wasn’t that big of a rock. 

“You’re right, Wei Ying. It does look alike.” He seemed thoughtful. “Although, this time it’s an incomparably more pleasant experience," he murmured. 

Wei Wuxian grimaced at that. “Yeah, tell me more. Even without Wen Chao and his nasty clique it was a hellish one.” He bumped his knee to Lan Zhan’s. “And you were wounded!”. Honestly, that one truly was something. Wounded, hungry, tired, indoctrinated, annoyed (double annoyed in Jiang Cheng’s case), and made to listen to Wen Chaos’s absolute batshit crazy bullshit for hours on end… it could have not ended well. But it could also end worse, Wei Wuxian thought bitterly, judging by the severity of Lan Zhan’s injury . Bless – “...Wen Qing.”

Wei Wuxian realised something was off only when he met Lan Zhan’s confused expression. 

“What? What did I do?”, he gaped.

“Nothing. You just said the last part out loud.”

Ah, crap.

“I did? I must’ve been in my head then, sorry! But actually—”, Wei Wuian smiled at the memories coming back to him. “Actually, bless Wen Qing. I still miss her sometimes, you know, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan studied his face. “You never told me much about her. She seemed reliable, that one time I met her.” That one time in the Burial Mounds.

Wei Wuxian nodded, almost frantically.

“She was! Oh, Lan Zhan, we would all be lost without her.” Staring at the lake in front of them, the scale of his words started to get to Wei Wuxian. When he looked at Lan Zhan, he was already looking at him with his brows knitted.

“What do you mean?”

What did he mean? Every word. He collected his thoughts and started talking. The words were leaving his mouth almost too easily. 

“I can’t believe I never talked about her before. She was… the closest I had to a friend, at some point. You know, at the Burial Mounds. She was a friend.” He started off quietly. “But first things first! Well, you know that she was an extraordinary healer. Since we’re here, anyway – she was the one who made Wen Chao pause that time to let us take a break. On the way to Mount Muxi. Well, I kind of made her do that – still, she didn’t have to listen to me at all. But she was just so damn persistent. Then… you remember how I got myself dragged to the dungeons that one time?”

Lan Zhan looked at the lake as if it offended him. “I do. But I never learnt what happened there.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “Apologies for that, but it wasn’t that much fun, really! It was just, uhm. Wen Chao’s drags took me to their stinky dungeon and locked me in there. With a monster—don’t look so alarmed, Lan Zhan! It was just an. Uhm. Big dog!”. Lan Zhan was looking at him intently. “No, seriously, please stop looking at me like that, it quickly got sedated by Wen Ning!”

“Wen Ning?”

“Yes, see—he arrived shortly after I was dumped there. He couldn’t do much, obviously, but he put the…uhm. Dog. To a temporary sleep”. Just before it could bite my head off. “And he brought me medicine. Neither of them ever admitted it, but I later found out that it was Wen Qing who prepared it and conveniently left it in a place where Wen Ning would find it. In a way, she cheated him into believing he stole from her, but in reality… She just was like that. And later, in that cave – do you remember, when I first made you vomit blood – you are welcome, by the way, if I knew taking off my robe would help I would apply this method more frequently—”

“Wei Ying. What about that cave?”

“Sorry. So, after the robe thing, I rubbed some medicine into your leg? And there was also another bottle of medicine, but unfortunately for us both, this one got lost when I was fighting… Someone. I never saw it again, and it pained me so much, Lan Zhan! I saved it for you and lost it." Wei Wuxian pouted. Lan Zhan exhaled. 

“Anyway. It was all Wen Qing doing. Then… Ah. The core.” The atmosphere got heavier at the mention, and Wei Wuxian shifted closer to Lan Zhan. They probably should get going already, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop talking. Lan Zhan didn’t look like he wanted him to. “You know the story, don’t you? I know Wen Ning told you. He was traumatised both by the event and by having to tell you.”

Lan Zhan nodded slowly. “I know… of it. I don’t know what happened exactly.”

“Nothing pretty,” Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Jiang Cheng got himself into a fight with Wen Zhuliu. We all know how he ended up. I arrived at Lotus Pier to look for him and Wen Ning helped me… retrieve Jiang Cheng’s body. He was unconscious, I mean. We took him to—we took him and shijie to Wen Qing’s place.” At the mention of Jiang Yanli, Lan Zhan immediately turned to his direction. Right. This hasn’t exactly been a bedtime story. “She helped him. She helped us all. She took care of all Jiang Cheng's injuries, and you know what is actually terrible in all that? Jiang Cheng liked her so much. I don’t think he ever told her, maybe apart from that one time when she turned him down. He bought her a comb… He wanted her to leave with him, silly. She would never do that.”

“Why?”, Lan Zhan inquired, but Wei Wuxian thought he had known the answer already. He fell silent for a moment, looking down on his hands in his lap.

Lan Zhan handed him water. He took it, more than grateful to be able to hide his face for one more second. Shortly after, he continued. It’s not like there’s much more to say.

“She would never abandon her family. And Jiang Cheng would never give her what she needed.” Wei Wuxian’s tone was practically emotionless – so much time passed. No hard feelings would suffice. “Right, but where was I! She took care of us all, Wen Qing. Her, and Wen Ning. I think shijie liked her a lot, too. I think—maybe, if they had more time together… But nevermind that, now! Long story short, Wen Qing was livid to find out I found a way to transplant the core. She didn’t want to do it, but she did. The rest is clear, I think.” Wei Wuxian started to get ready to leave again, but stopped in his tracks, remembering one more thing. “And… she took great care of A-Yuan, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan was already on his feet and ready to leave as he looked at Wei Wuxian. His eyes were glinting. 

“She was great. She seemed to be the only person to really know what she was doing at the Burial Mounds. What seeds to plant and where, what side of the cave to sleep in. Now I’m not sure if she wasn’t bullshiting her way through it, she was equally as lost as we all were, but she did it gracefully, all while having to look after A-Yuan! And me. She thought I was being a terrible parent and a disastrous child,” Wei Wuxian laughed. “But I think she was joking. She had this real no-nonsense personality, seriously. So strong all the damn time.” His smile slowly dropped from his face. He didn’t give Lan Zhan a chance to spot it, because he was already striding ahead, and fast. “She wanted me to leave them, can you believe, Lan Zhan? As if I—no, this is—You know me. How could I ever leave?”

I did. I left, in the end. Only some time later.

Lan Zhan walked up to him. Wei Wuxian didn’t hear him say anything, but he could swear he could hear him sigh. 

“So I didn’t,” he continued. He was so tired. He wanted to rest so badly. 

Wei Wuxian! How can you do this to me? Go and return these damn potatoes in an instant! I swear I will needle you if you pull something like that again. And buy turnips! Don’t rush too much, you’ll make yourself sick again. But go!

“And then they left. After Jin Zi—after the Jin Zixuan thing. After Wen Ning... She needled me, making me unable to move, I wanted to, but you know how those needles work, they—”. He gulped. “She said she was sorry, and she thanked me for everything. And then they left, Lan Zhan, and I never saw her again. I never told her that it was me who was sorry, or how much I owed them. How much I owed her. Never told her that she deserved better—so, so much better than what she got. And she only wanted to keep her family safe. I promised her I would keep them safe. And they were all hung. Burned. Disrespected. Everyone but Wen Ning, and A-A-Yuan, all thanks to y—God, this is insufferable,” he sniffled, angrily wiping at his nose. He was just so tired. “And it sounds so much worse than it did in my head. Lan Zhan, I’m s—”

Suddenly, he was being hugged. It took him off guard so much he forgot what he wanted to say. He leaned into the warmth instead. The embrace was short, but tight; Lan Zhan just squeezed him good, and took a step back to look at him. Either it was the sun or a mist coming over Wei Wuxian’s sight, or his eyes really were wet. 

“Thank you for telling me this, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, loud and clear. “And after all, you succeeded in keeping your promise.” 

It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to look at him quizzically. 

“You kept Wen Ning alive”, Lan Zhan said like it was the simplest and the most obvious thing under the sun. Wei Wuxian couldn’t even argue with him, so he just smiled weakly, appreciative. 

“Wen Qing seems like she was a great person,” Lan Zhan stated a while later, albeit quietly. 

“She was,” Wei Wuxian nodded, and let out a short laugh. “But she was also similar to me – too freaking stubborn and headstrong. You would like her, Lan Zhan. If you ever got to know her.”

Lan Zhan frowned at him. “Compassionate and protective, then,” he suggested, successfully wiping the smile off Wei Wuxian’s face. “I would.” After a pause, he added, “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Like her.”

Oh. Wei Wuxian suddenly felt warmth creeping up to his face. A strange sensation of a deja vu overcame him. Do you like Mianmian, Lan Zhan?

“I did. As a friend!”, he stuttered out. “Jiang Cheng would kill me and feed the fish if I liked-liked her—not that I did! I didn’t. She was pretty, I guess, of course she was, she was gorgeous, Jiang Che—.” Lan Zhan’s brows were so furrowed now Wei Wuxian felt the sudden urge to reach out and smooth the crease on his forehead with his finger. He started panicking more. Why was he panicking? 

“She was a friend.” 

And Lan Zhan just nodded, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s internal commotion.

After that, they both fell silent. They knew there was nothing left to be said. The two started walking again, Wei Wuxian a small step behind Lan Zhan, fiddling with his flute. 

He just had to interrupt the silence one last time.

“So,” he grinned, all sadness and doubt gone from his voice. “We are hugging now. I knew you were secretly a hugger, Hanguang-jun!”

Lan Zhan exhaled loudly and quickened his pace. 

“Walk faster. We are behind.”

“It’s not my fault your legs are longer, Lan Zhan! And what happened to running is forbidden, anyway?”

“We aren’t in Gusu now.”

“So I can break all of the four thousand rules, is this what you’re saying?”

“No.” And after a pause, “Not all of them.”

***

When it got too dark to comfortably walk, they found an inn in the town they were passing by – just another small village, but the local people claimed to have the best pork soup (and a plant-based option for the esteemed Hanguang-jun, of course) on the route to Yunmeng, and they served famous local liquor. There were exactly two vacant rooms in the small inn they found, so luck seemed to be on their side, Wei Wuxian noted happily.

Drained from the road and emotions, it took approximately three and half portions of liquor to make Wei Wuxian feel fuzzy. They were sitting at a table in the far corner, behind the stairs, which granted them some privacy and sheltered them from the curious looks. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whined loudly. “How could you ever get used to this? Everybody is looking at us! They’re staring at you and, as it appears, at me, too! What am I, an extension to Hanguang-jun?”

He took a big sip and placed his elbow on the table, chin on his hand. 

Lan Zhan shot him a look, but he looked amused. “I think you are exaggerating, Wei Ying. People are always looking. At me, at us. At you, especially.”

“Me? What, am I so good looking, is this what you’re saying, Hanguang-jun?”, Wei Wuxian teased.

“Perhaps.” Lan Zhan drank his tea with an almost smug expression. Wei Wuxian blushed. How did it even come to this? Wei Wuxian did not get used to the fact that it was Lan Zhan who made him flustered now. 

Oh, how the turns have tabled. Tables have tabled. Ah, shit.

“Warn a man, will you, Lan Zhan? I can’t believe this. Lan Wangji is not permitted cheeky humour needs to be added to the Gusu Lan Clan rules, I will personally see to it. I’ll have your uncle agree with me!”

Whether Lan Zhan opened his mouth to scold him or to make another comment that would make him want to giggle like a teenager, Wei Wuxian never got to know, because someone approached their little, secluded table. 

Outrageous timing. 

A young woman with glinting eyes and a pearly smile bowed to them. After they both bowed back, Wei Wuxian reluctantly, she fixed his gaze on Lan Zhan and preened.

“Hanguang-jun, please forgive this humble one for interrupting you and… your companion…”, the dirty look she sent Wei Wuxian was almost comical. “...in your leisure time, however, I just felt it necessary to mention that although we are a poor and a small village, this inn prizes itself in the quality of our…services.” 

In the quality of what?

Lan Zhan looked bewildered as the lady went on.

“This being said, please let me make a note, Hanguang-jun, that there is a private chamber available, if Hanguang-jun would only be so kind as to move there… The meals could be served there, as well. Please kindly consider.” 

What just happened?  

Now, Wei Wuxian just had to take a closer look at the girl. She didn’t let Lan Zhan out of her sight even for a moment, smiling so widely it looked almost painful. She was leaning heavily in Lan Zhan’s direction, but he was completely unbothered.

“Many thanks, guniang.” He nodded politely, but his tone was ice cold. “I appreciate the kindness; however, we are satisfied with our current rooms. I must decline.” 

The way Lan Zhan talks when he doesn't really want to leaves no room for discussion. And if his interlocutor wants to discuss, well – they probably won’t get a reply. The young lady was smart enough to understand it. She shot Wei Wuxian a hateful look, and he made a face at Lan Zhan. With that, she backed off – ogling the esteemed, yet unavailable Hanguang-jun for one last time. 

She looked like she wanted to kiss Lan Zhan so bad, Wei Wuxian thought, and huffed. Get in line, guniang.

Oh? 

This is bad. He should have stopped drinking two drinks ago. Or never start in the first place. But before he could even ponder about the direction his thoughts were dangerously going (when exactly have the thoughts about kissing Lan Zhan started?), his attention was drawn to two cultivators sitting nearby. They were clearly on a night hunt, but now they were talking rather loudly, not even subtle about the way they were staring in the direction of his and Lan Zhan’s table. 

“... Are you sure it is him, though? He doesn’t really look… I don’t know… Yilling Laozu-y to me.” 

Hm. This is going to be interesting. 

“Of course I’m sure!”, the second cultivator’s voice was impatient. “Just take a look at him, and notice who he is sitting with. Do you see a sword? No! I’m telling you, it is Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian exchanged looks; the former a hard one, the latter – amused. 

“Maybe… It is Hanguang-jun, that checks out… It must really be Wei Wuxian with him, then, they're inseparable. You know what they say…”. A part of their conversation drowned in the noise. From the way they sneered, Wei Wuxian could only guess what they just said. “Man, I know the guy’s been pardoned and cleared of charges and all, but it’s just so creepy to see him, sitting here like nothing! It still doesn’t sit right with me.”

Lan Zhan’s hand reached for Bichen, and Wei Wuxian immediately shifted closer to him to place a hand on his. “Don’t, Lan Zhan. I know it’s ugly and forbidden to gossip, but let them, They’re not worth your time”, he said gently, trying to make Lan Zhan look at him. When their eyes met, there was anger in Lan Zhan’s, but he let go of his hold on the sword and sat back. Wei Wuxian rubbed his hand and smiled, but he remained where he sat next to him, pressing their legs together. He was perfectly aware of the two pairs of eyes on his back. Fortunately, so was Lan Zhan. He looked up over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and directed a death stare at the two cultivators.

If they were whispering in an obnoxiously excited way a second ago, they stopped in an instant. For a moment it seemed that one, angry glare from Lan Zhan would be enough to stop an entire army (and it was, Wei Wuxian could swear), but the two men were clearly intoxicated, and dumb, because they continued in hushed voices.

“Won’t even look our way. Uses Hanguang-jun to stand up for him. Impudent!”

“Yes, pathetic.”

“Shameless, he always was.”

“Well, even if this is Wei Wuxian, he doesn’t look very dangerous to me.” The tone turned purely disdainful. "He can barely sit straight, my youngest daughter looks like she has more strength than him!”

The cultivator was not only condescending, but clearly irrationally angry now. 

“Oh, I don’t know… You probably shouldn’t judge his physical appearance. I heard it’s the wicked tricks that weaken the body so the mind can take in more, better not underestimate him…Who knows what he is still capable of."

His colleague was livid now, practically screaming. “Capable! If the wicked tricks made him look like I could crack his ribs with one kick, maybe it’s on him, crazy bastard! He doesn’t look capable to me! I can’t believe this is the guy our parents went to war with,” he spat viciously.

“The great, fearless Yilling Louzu, how did he even manage to do all those things?!”

“Oh, I can most definitely show you how,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice quiet.

All windows in the inn slammed shut. A few candles went out.

Everything fell completely silent when Wei Wuxian rose to his feet and pushed Lan Zhan down to sit still.

Nobody said a word. When he turned on his feet, the two cultivators were looking at him, but not meeting his eye, pale, and sweating. 

Wei Wuxian reached to his belt, hooping a finger there.

“What happened, gongzi? You’re not up to a demonstration of how the Yilling Louzu went berserk?”

He took a step closer towards the cultivators’ table. Somebody inhaled sharply.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was low. A warning. Wei Wuxian ignored warnings. 

“No? You don’t want to test how easily my ribs break?”, he giggled, and reached for his flute. 

The cultivators both fell to the ground. “G-good master, we–no—, " spoke one of them shakily.

“Are you sure? You sounded just so sure a minute ago, gongzi! Come on, now, make your daughter proud.” 

He heard Lan Zhan gasp as one of the cultivators – Wei Wuxian could easily guess which of the two it was – bowed even lower at his feet. 

“My apologies, master, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend you, I am just drunk and stupid, please!”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice was low, but pleading now. Wei Wuxian did not ignore pleas. Not Lan Zhan’s.

Never Lan Zhan's.

Besides, he never looked for a fight. He was a tired man. He was, most importantly, just a man.

Invoking hysteria wasn’t his goal. It never was, as some tend to forget.

Wei Wuxian sighed loudly, and slowly returned to Lan Zhans’ side. He looked over his shoulder at the two terrified cultivators, still scrambled on the floor.

“Get up, gongzis, there is nothing to cry about. Don’t look so frightened, you could probably break my rib with a kick. That's how ribs work.”

“No, I would never! Master, please—thank you for forgiving us, it was just stupid, idiotic banter—”

The men finally got up to their feet and were bowing frantically to Wei Wuxian now. Lan Zhan looked like he was watching something disgusting die.

Wei Wuxian just waved his hand at them, not sparing them another glance. “Please just be mindful of what you’re saying next time, for your and others' sake. Gossip is forbidden. And annoying.”

He tried his best to filter out everything the men said after that. He and Lan Zhan were sitting in silence for a while, waiting for the inn to regain its natural, noisy state. Fortunately, it was getting pretty late, and people were already leaving. Some left right after the commotion. 

Wei Wuxian drank another cup of liquor. It tasted bitter now. He felt Lan Zhan’s eyes on him, but he didn’t really feel like returning the gaze.

“You must think I was cruel to them, Lan Zhan.” He said quietly, playing with the empty bottle.

“No,” Lan Zhan replied at once. “Quite the opposite.” Wei Wuxian snorted.

“Ah, you would probably handle it better, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan’s lips tightened. “No. I would just probably physically fight them," he admitted. “You did great, Wei Ying. They were saying vicious things.”

Wei Wuxian raised his chin to meet Lan Zhan’s gaze this time. He found him looking at him softly – softer than he could expect. He sent him a small smile because well, yes. Lan Zhan would probably just fight them, not engage in a verbal argument. 

They were both impulsive and protective, but in different ways. They both knew how to fight exceptionally well, and yet, they always picked the worst fights. Wei Wuxian with everyone who disagreed with his morals; with the entire rotten, unjust, corrupted cultivation world. And Lan Zhan – with everyone who was against Wei Wuxian, because he wasn’t. And who wasn’t with Wei Ying, was against Lan Zhan, too.

They were rather biased about the fights they picked. Wei Wuxian could only hope they will learn, someday. Or that they won’t have to pick at all.

Lan Zhan looked equally drained, but he also looked focused. Attentive. Interested. He wanted Wei Wuxian to talk to him, and he couldn’t care less about the big scene, the guniang offering him better accommodation and company, he didn’t mind the drunken jabber. 

Wei Wuxian wanted to kiss him so badly it made his stomach churn. He hoped he could blame it on the alcohol in the morning, because he preferred being hungover to the sinking realisation that he unrequitedly wanted to kiss his best friend.

He was always late to realise things. To understand them. Before he catches the meaning, it is already gone. Before he can act on it, it is forgotten. 

He best forgets this, too.

“Lan Zhan,” he started. “It was actually quite funny, what they said.”

Lan Zhan didn’t look like he agreed with his choice of words. “What was funny about it?”

“The fearless Yilling Louzu… It’s funny. I never said I was fearless, I don’t know where this one came from. I most certainly am not fearless,” Wei Wuxian laughed. 

Lan Zhan’s face softened. “Everybody is afraid of something. You are uncharacteristically brave, Wei Ying. This part is true.” 

Wei Wuxian shook his head weakly. He was still playing with the empty bottle, spinning it and catching right before it could fall off the table and shatter to pieces. “Brave, yes. Fear… I have lots of them. I don’t think I ever mentioned them in detail. It felt… weak to share,” he shared, quite unexpectedly, but decidely.

“Everybody is afraid of something,” Lan Zhan repeated patiently. In a quiet tone, he added, “What are you afraid of, Wei Ying?”

The bottle fell from the table, spun once too hard. Lan Zhan caught it effortlessly, not breaking eye contact with Wei Wuxian.

Do you really want to know?

“Well, honestly? Three things.” Wei Wuxian put up one finger and said, “Easy. Dogs.”

Lan Zhan nodded. He was more than aware of his absurd fear of dogs.

“The dog in the Wen dungeons…”. He was so quick to connect the dots. 

“It paralysed me with fear, and it would probably finish me off if not for Wen Ning, or Wen Qing, if I’m being completely honest. It had already been bad before, but that time in the dungeons…Well,” Wei Wuxian frowned, pensive. “Not a big fan of dogs, nope! And of… heights.” He added, and put up a second finger, wanting to go through his list as soon as possible.

He wanted Lan Zhan to know, he just didn’t want to see the look on his face. Because now, Lan Zhan was clearly upset.

“Heights? Since when?”

“Since Wen Chao dropped me from his sword all the way down to the Burial Mounds, the first time I got there. In fact, this is how I got there. He found me in an inn after the core transplant, we had a fight, and well. He thought that would kill me, obviously.” 

It probably could. Perhaps it should.

Silence. A very loud, dangerous type of silence. 

“Wen Chao did what, Wei Ying?”

If Lan Zhan was upset a minute ago, now he was simply overcome with cold fury. It was a rare sight to see him like this. Wei Wuxian reached out to hold his hand where it lay in his lap; it was freezing. Lan Zhan made a move to retreat, but it only made Wei Wuxian lace their fingers and squeeze.

If we’re already holding hands, we might as well do it properly. 

“Lan Zhan, it was years ago. And Wen Chao is very dead. I made sure he got what he deserved. Jiang Cheng helped.” 

The sharp look he got from Lan Zhan would be enough to kill someone that wasn’t him.

“I would beg to differ. I cannot come up with a deserving punishment for someone who threw you off their sword, into the Burial Mounds, while you were not only convalescing, but also without your core.” Fury. Straight, cold fury, all while his tone was cool as ever. Wei Wuxian shivered.

“When you put it that way…”, he squirmed. Their cold hands were still laced together, which made him brave enough to go through this entire conversation. “But as I said, he got what he deserved. You heard me.”

“I did. I just wish I had helped, too," Lan Zhan frowned, but he looked more collected now. 

Wei Wuxian could only smile sadly. I am glad you didn’t, Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan seemed to need a moment to think of all the painful ways he could have made Wen Chao die. After he was done, he looked up at Wei Wuxian, and asked quietly.

“And the third thing?”

Wei Wuxian wiggled in his seat. “This one is kind of embarrassing, really. You have to promise me you won’t make me say too much about it. I’m drunk, it would be unfair!” He wasn’t drunk. He was, in fact, sobering up with each second. “And you have to also promise me that we will go to bed right after that. Isn’t it your time, anyway?”

“Wei Ying. I won’t make you say anything you don’t feel comfortable saying.” 

“No, no, it’s okay, I want to tell you,” Wei Wuxian shook his head, and squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand again to get his courage up. “Just…Don’t look too much into it, okay? Not now.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian smiled at him, used one hand to show three fingers, and released the other one from Lan Zhan’s grip. He thought it would be better this way, looking at what he had to say. He also thought it was cold, so he shifted closer to Lan Zhan, and looked him… in the forehead.

He couldn’t do better than this. 

“The third thing is. Uhm. It’s you.”

Wei Wuxian thought he saw the most emotions on Lan Zhan’s face this evening than he had in the last twenty years. This one was deep concern. He realized his mistake.

Ah, fuck. 

“Wait, this came out wrong, Lan Zhan! You as in losing you. No–you. The absence of you. This is the third thing.” Although pretty much sober now, he felt his cheeks getting warmer at what must have been one of the strangest confessions of both his and Lan Zhan’s life. “It really is as simple as that, Lan Zhan, I don’t want… “ To lose you. To ever lose sight of you .“I’m afraid of us getting separated and things like that. It happened before, and you took the fall. Awful times. No one would recommend it. So… let’s just not do that! Let’s just stay like this, Lan Zhan. I don’t want to lose this. You.”

He didn’t even realise when he started whispering. 

“This is what I am afraid of.” He swallowed.

Lan Zhan’s hand in his hair startled him more than everything else that day. He felt him gently caress the back of his head before slowly retreating the hand. 

When Wei Wuxian looked at him, Lan Zhan was smiling. Really smiling, not just "smiling in a way no one but Wei Wuxian would notice because no one is as obsessed with the man as Wei Wuxian is."

He was smiling like he smiled at him when they bought the rabbit lantern one time. Or when they taught the juniors a very difficult talisman once during their practice sessions. Or when they played music together, in the otherwise quiet house.

Like he smiled at him when their chopsticks clinked together during dinner, when they silently tried sharing food with each other; Wei Wuxian placing some of his unseasoned tofu on Lan Zhan’s plate. Lan Zhan smuggling more carrots onto Wei Wuxian’s. 

“I am here, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, voice warm. “Let’s go to sleep, now.”

And so they went. 

Watching Lan Zhan disappear in his room, Wei Wuxian felt so many things he wasn’t sure how he could fit all inside his creaky, feeble body.

When Lan Zhan entered his room in the morning, Wei Wuxian was already dressed and ready to mount Bichen to fly the rest of the way to Yunmeng.

***

Preoccupied with different matters, Wei Wuxian only realised how anxious he felt about seeing Jiang Cheng for the first time since Guanyin Temple when Lan Zhan already stepped onto the sword, looking at him expectantly. 

“Is something wrong, Wei Ying?”

“Ah, no, no, it’s just. Jaing Cheng surely is home, right?”, he tried to play it cool. Lan Zhan’s frown deepened. He didn’t respond. They literally got an invitation and a note from Jiang Cheng only yesterday. “Right. Okay, let’s get it. Make some space, Lan Zhan.”

As they stepped onto the sword, Wei Wuxian in front of Lan Zhan, pressed to his chest, a thought had crossed his mind that it was going to be a very long journey. Feeling Lan Zhan’s one arm secured around his waist, he startled. Not a second later he got off, throwing his hands in the air in a dramatic manner.

“Wei Ying?”

“Nope, this won’t do, Lan Zhan,” he whined, thanking all gods he could name that Lan Zhan was used to his theatrics. “It’s not that I’m afraid! It would just… feel weird! To not be able to see who’s manoeuvring the sword I’m flying on. Let me stand behind you, is this okay with you?”, he chirped.

“Fine with me.” If Lan Zhan ever shrugged, he would now. Wei Wuxian smiled at him and got behind him; not knowing what to do with his hands, he just draped one snugly around Lan Zhan’s waist, hoping he wouldn’t mind. 

Here you go, let’s see if you can focus!

Apparently, Lan Zhan did not mind, nor was he unable to focus. They set off.

The flight was… acceptable, thought Wei Wuxian. He still wasn’t the biggest fan of flying. Once or twice he accidentally looked down and had to squeeze Lan Zhan’s waist hard enough to probably punch the air out of him. As they got closer to Yunmeng, based on the huge lake they were flying over now, Wei Wuxian changed his mind: flying was awful. He loved water, but he did not fancy falling in the middle of a lake. He tensed and a stranded sound left his throat.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was low, barely audible due to the wind. “Stop looking. Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?! That’s—” Wei Wuxian screamed into Lan Zhan’s back. “—Alright, Lan Zhan. You might have a point.”

Without any preamble, he draped his other arm around Lan Zhan’s middle and dropped his forehead between his shoulder blades, successfully blocking any view. He immediately relaxed, breathing in the smell of sandalwood mixed with the smell of water. It was better. It was so much better now.

After a few hours of this, the sky got darker behind Wei Wuxian’s eyelids, and he could feel it in his bones that they were near Yunmeng, near the Lotus Pier. The temperature was higher here, the air tasted differently. Nonetheless, he was getting fatigued, and hungry. He would assume the same for Lan Zhan.

“Are we landing directly on the pier, Lan Zhan?!”, he screamed again, opening his eyes for the first time. It was completely dark now, indicating a late afternoon, and they were considerably closer to the ground. He could see the dark wood of the Lotus Pier in the distance. 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan admitted. “Clan Leader Jiang sent a note saying he would be awaiting our arrival.”

The note probably wasn’t quite as polite as this, even if Wei Wuxian didn’t see it himself. He knew his brother, though.

Not even a minute later, they landed softly on the pier, hearing the water splashing underneath, and Jiang disciples greeting them politely, yet very seriously. 

Wei Wuxian needed a solid minute to untangle himself from Lan Zhan. He took a quick glance at him, frowning at the fact that he looked impeccable as always, despite the long hours of manoeuvring the sword. Unfair.

“Hanguang-jun,” he heard Jiang Cheng’s familiar voice on his left. He turned in time to see a clenched jaw and swoosh of purples and blues when Jiang Cheng bowed to Lan Zhan. “Glad to see you arrived with… few to no problems.” He side-eyed Wei Wuxian’s state of being.

Lan Zhan bowed back. “Clan Leader Jiang,” he said with no emotion in his voice. “Thank you for your generous invite.”

Jian Cheng snorted and shot him a look. “Sure.” He turned his attention to Wei Wuxian now, who was doing his best to remain stable on his feet. “What is wrong with you? Why do you look so ghastly? We haven’t even entered the Lotus Pier,” he barked, but with little real anger in his voice. Wei Wuxian was very good at differentiating between the different shades of his brother’s anger.

“Well, hello to you, too, Jiang Cheng. Long time no see.” Before he could bite his tongue, it was too late. Now Jiang Cheng was angry. 

“Long time no see, indeed! And I wonder whose fault is this? You think you can just fuck off somewhere for a year and be mad at me ? In my house? You’re unbelievable, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng spat, looking him up and down. Lan Zhan took a step closer into their direction, immediately making Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart to his face. He didn’t say anything else. 

Oh. This is new.

“Alright, I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng. I really am.” Wei Wuxian smiled tightly at his brother and put his hands together to bow. 

Lan Zhan stirred when Jiang Cheng moved rapidly, but the latter just jumped in to stop Wei Wuxian. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Stop saying you’re sorry and just write to me more often than when you’re on the verge of dying!”

Wei Wuxian straightened his back and beamed at Jiang Cheng.

“All right, then." He patted his shoulder, getting a wince in return. It was close to a smile. “I will.”

Jiang Cheng only huffed, sent both Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan an exasperated look, and nodded at his disciples. They marched in front of them and left in the direction of the Lotus Pier. “Whatever. Let’s get going. You took your sweet time. I had to reschedule dinner.”

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Zhan behind Jiang Cheng’s back and smiled widely. This is just how he is, Lan Zhan. I know it’s a lot. He mouthed, “Bear with him,” and caught Lan Zhan’s gaze to make sure he understood. The corners of Lan Zhan’s lips raised insignificantly. 

“At least you had chosen the right timing for your visit.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was normal, but Wei Wuxian’s furrowed his eyebrows. “For visiting Yunmeng.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “What is happening in Yunmeng this time of year, Jiang Cheng? Have I missed something?”. He did a mental checkup of all the festivals and events he knew of, but nothing came to his mind regarding this particular time.

Jiang Cheng stopped abruptly to look at him. Wei Wuxian came to a stop, too. Lan Zhan almost bumped into his back, but halted right before he could.

“Are you kidding me, Wei Wuxian?”. Jiang Cheng’s brows were furrowed to the extent they created a single line. “Use your big head! It’s jie’s birthday,” he grumbled.

Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, shijie. 

“Right,” he said, looking down in shame. But still, he couldn’t see the full image of where Jiang Cheng was going with this.

“There’s a big lantern festival in Yunmeng in two days.” It wasn’t Jiang Cheng who provided the answer. It was Lan Zhan.

When Wei Wuxian sent him a shocked look, Lan Zhan wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Jiang Cheng with one of the strangest expressions he had even seen on his face. Jiang Cheng was looking back at him, intensely, but he didn’t open his mouth to explain further. For a second, the two men looked at each other. Wei Wuxian would give a lot for an insight into their heads.

“There’s what? Lan Zhan, how come you know this and I don’t? Jiang Cheng, is this true? What does it have to do with—”. Realisation slowly gnawing on him, he inhaled sharply. “Jiang Cheng. Did you—Is the Jiang Sect holding a festival on shijie’s birthday? For shijie?”, he breathed out.

“Lotus Lights Festival,” murmured Lan Zhan. Jiang Cheng nodded stiffly, looking everywhere but at them. “I remember receiving the invite a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is this true, Jiang Cheng?”, Wei Wuxian tried to corner Jiang Cheng again. Another stiff nod in response. “Lan Zhan, you tell me. What the hell is this?”

“Jiang Wanyin," Lan Zhan’s voice was curious when he looked at Jiang Cheng. “Kindly correct me if I’m wrong. It’s an annual festival in Yunmeng, Wei Ying. It has been going for a few years now, save for last year.”

“And the year before,” Jiang Cheng added sharply. “This year’s is the first one in three years.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t contain his emotions. “How come you never told me about this, Jiang Cheng?!”

Jian Cheng looked at him sharply. “When, Wei Wuxian? Have we been pen buddies or something? Or meeting regularly? When was I supposed to tell you – after or before Jin Guangyao went berserk on us in that temple?”

Right.

Wei Wuxian didn’t have an answer for that, so he just stood there in silence. Jiang Cheng went on after a while, his tone less gruff. “At least you made it in time for it this year, so you better prepare and come! Both of you.” Jiang Cheng was looking at Lan Zhan again.

For Wei Wuxian, this all was entirely too much. It wasn’t like he was feeling that great when they landed, after all. He was stiff, he was tired, and the world around him was spinning more now than a few minutes before, even though his feet were securely placed on solid ground.

Or were they?

He tried to catch Lan Zhan’s gaze.

“Lan Zhan,” he giggled weakly. “There’s two of you.”

Lan Zhan eyes widening in shock were the last thing Wei Wuxian saw before everything else went dark, and he fell to the wet, wooden floor.

Chapter Text

When he came to, Wei Wuxian was carefully plastered to Lan Zhan’s side at one of the low tables in the Sword Hall. Stirring and taking a quick glance around him, he was certain that the only people in the room were him, Lan Zhan, and Jiang Cheng, and judging by the steam over the tea, they couldn’t have been sitting there long.

“Wei Ying,” inquired Lan Zhan. “You’re awake.”

“Wei Wuxian,” mirrored Jiang Cheng from over his chair. “Always the drama queen, are you not?”

Wei Wuxian straightened up and groaned. His body was aching, his head was throbbing, and his throat was sore. He did not feel like a queen of any sort. Without thinking much, he reached for Lan Zhan’s cup – almost full – and emptied it. 

Jiang Cheng made an annoyed sound, but it was Lan Zhan who Wei Wuxian looked at apologetically. 

“Sorry, Lan Zhan. My throat is killing me,” he chirped. “Jiang Cheng, thank you for letting us in. Sorry for the show." He grinned. "You two must have been so bored when I was out! Right, how long was I out?”

“Not long,” Lan Zhan replied. “We arrived not so long ago. How are you feeling?”

Wei Wuxian winced, but he replied, “I’ll live, Lan Zhan, no worries.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “You’d better. We're busy. And for your information, you are not our sole source of entertainment, Wei Wuxian.” 

Right, because you and Lan Zhan are such close friends. Sworn brothers, even. 

Jiang Cheng rose to his feet and motioned towards the passage to the dining hall. “Since you have decided to greet us with your conscious presence, would you mind getting your ass to dinner that I had to reschedule twice, now? Or do you need Hanguang-jun to carry you over there, too?”

Wei Wuxian never got up so quickly in his life. In both of his lives, probably.

The atmosphere at the table was somewhat awkward (somewhat) for the first few minutes when the food was being served. Lan Zhan didn’t mind the silence, obviously, but Wei Wuxian casted nervous glances at both him and Jiang Cheng in an attempt to gauge the mood. Jiang Cheng only raised a brow in response. 

It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to raise his eyebrows after he took a closer look at the dishes served: besides some clearly local foods he remembered more than well and dearly missed, there were also a few plates that he didn’t recognize. They were undoubtedly filled with something very green, very vegetarian, and very like something Lan Zhan could actually fill his stomach with instead of relying his entire meal on rice. 

Wei Wuxian tried to communicate his surprise non-verbally; that is, by making the most dumbfounded face at his brother as he could. Jiang Cheng avoided his gaze and attacked the food on his plate with chopsticks with great ferocity, as if the meat source personally offended him when still alive. 

Knowing Jiang Cheng, it might have, but stilll....This is new. This is strange.

They began eating in silence, but it was getting too much for Wei Wuxian.

“Jiang Cheng.” His mouth was full, but he couldn’t care less. It wasn’t the Cloud Recesses, and he needed to talk or he would burst. “I either hit my head very hard, or this food is just amazing. Like, really, really good. Better than I remember! Have you changed cooks? I think I need to kiss him. Them. I mean.” 

Crap.

To his surprise, Jiang Cheng shot Lan Zhan a quick, exasperated look, as if it was Lan Zhan who almost spat his dinner at him, talking nonsense. Wei Wuxian didn’t even notice if Lan Zhan responded to that communication in any way, because Jiang Cheng finally turned to him.

“Not the cook, the supplier. You would know what the deal was has you been here at the last conference,” he huffed. “Anyway, stop harassing my staff. And shut your mouth and eat.”

The rest of the dinner went…relatively civil? No, scratch that. It was the most civil meal Wei Wuxian had had with Jiang Cheng in years. Probably the last time was well before he became the Yilling Louzu, he thought, somewhat bitterly.

Although Lan Zhan didn’t say a single word – obliging the rules even now, convenient – he, too, seemed quite pleased, not only with his food.

I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought?

After the empty plates were collected and liquor was served, the air got heavier, again. They – minus Lan Zhan – drank in silence for a while. Wei Wuxian ran out of topics for small talk, and he couldn’t kid himself – Jiang Cheng wasn’t big on small talk. But to his surprise, he spoke up – albeit slightly stiffly.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “From tomorrow on I will have to return to my official responsibilities, but they are mostly connected with the festival right now. There are still some things that need to be done… or corrected.” He frowned. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you like, obviously. Unless you’re planning on doing something brainless, Wei Wuxian. Then you’re free to do that back in Gusu.”

Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue. “Jiang Cheng…"

He looked at Lan Zhan, but his face was expressionless. His gaze was fixed on Jiang Cheng. 

And Jiang Cheng just rolled his eyes, but he turned to Lan Zhan. “Apologies.” 

Oh, wow. 

Wei Wuxian was definitely missing something; Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng appeared to have reached some silent agreement unbeknownst to him. This never happened before. Wei Wuxian was actually surprised they got on so long without physically hurting each other; he knew Lan Zhan wasn’t the biggest fan of Clan Leader Jiang and most likely barely tolerated his presence. He also knew that Jiang Cheng never particularly liked Lan Zhan, and that it had a lot to do with pettiness, jealousy, and the irrational belief that he was partially at fault for the Lotus Pier fall. Which belief he seemed to let go of, finally. So did Wei Wuxian hope. Still, the two men never became any friendlier with each other than the stiff formalities of Clan rules required. 

Knowing this, Wei Wuxian had his suspicions about the little talk of theirs that they had when was out. He suspected Lan Zhan told Jiang Cheng what he had told Lan Zhan yesterday; at least the parts that were necessary to explain why Wei Wuxian would suddenly faint at that quite random moment. Wei Wuxian was grateful for that; he didn’t want to have to tell anybody about it, ever again. 

And then, Jiang Cheng had the guts to surprise him one more time. The most predictable man on earth losing his title?

“Hanguang-jun,” he continued, voice only a bit hoarse. “Let us cut the crap, shall we? I know we’ve never particularly liked each other.”

Oh, my god.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nodded. It encouraged Jiang Cheng to speak more. 

“But it would be utterly stupid and ungrateful of me to hold my grudges against you forever. You—I guess my—I believe… it would be unfair to direct anger at you. Impractical and improper, too. I guess.” 

The words came out strangled, but came nonetheless. Wei Wuxian’s mouth was hanging open, but Jiang Cheng didn’t stop there. 

“I am also more than aware that we will never be friends, let’s not kid ourselves,” he huffed, and Lan Zhan nodded again, looking at him curiously. “I strongly disagree with many… aspects of your personality, Hanguang-jun. No offence.”

Another nod from Lan Zhan. 

“However, I do respect you, and I do respect your opinions, Hanguang-jun. I do not wish for any hostility between us and between our clans, and there is none from my side.” Wei Wuxian wondered how many angry hours Jiang Cheng spent practising this. “I will try to make sure that there is none,” he corrected himself. 

It’s the closest to an apology anybody could ever coax out of Jiang Cheng. 

“Clan Leader Jiang,” Lan Zhan said, formal and polite. “I appreciate your words. I agree with you. Needless to say,” he highlighted, “I also hold grudges against you and I have had doubts about your choices and motifs. My apologies.” He bowed his head.

It was only now that Jiang Cheng huffed with irritation. “Don’t. We all know where it’s coming from,” he shot a look at Wei Wuxian. 

Ah, yes. If the aversion between them could be narrowed down to one reason, it was The Wei Wuxian Case. Because Lan Zhan was protective like that, and it wasn’t something Jiang Cheng understood. Choices regarding him were what distanced them most, Wei Wuxian knew.

What just happened was long overdue, but it still was surprising. 

“Anyway,” Jiang Cheng said with the usual displeasure of his tone, looking at Wei Wuxian. “I should probably thank you for keeping my—for keeping Wei Wuxian in one piece and relatively safe. As safe as it gets when you’re Wei Wuxian, anyway. Tough job. Takes a man.”

“Come on, now, Jiang Cheng!”

“Mn. No need.” 

Jiang Cheng smirked and raised from his seat. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. A room has been arranged for you, I’ll have someone show you the way. Your stuff is already there.” A room? Like, singular? Seeing Wei Wuxian’s confusion, Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue. “Your temporary room. We are having some problems with the guest chambers since some idiot decided to mess up his Spirit-Attraction Flags.”

Wei Wuxian knitted his brows together.

“What does it have to do with your guest chambers?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Too fucking long of a story. Guest chambers are sometimes used as a temporary storage, because they’re located closest to the northern entrance. A few juniors were leaving in a hurry to help some Yao shithea—to help some Yao disciples in an urgent night hunt nearby, a couple of days back. Whatever. They learnt that rush and spirit-catching don’t mix well. Anyway, they’re fine. The matter should be resolved tomorrow.” He explained, and added, “That is, unless you wish to stay in the room, after all. Goodnight, Hanguang-jun. Wei Wuxian – I better see you tomorrow helping the disciples out with the lanterns!” Jiang Cheng turned to them one last time, pointing a finger at Wei Wuxian. “Unfortunately, only you and me remember how exactly jie used to paint hers,” he murmured. 

He turned to leave.

“Jiang Cheng!”, Wei Wuxian called after him.

“What do you want?”, Jiang Cheng frowned at him.

“I... want to pay my respects to shijie, Jiang-shushu…and Madam Yu. May we go?”

The words left his mouth quickly. He felt weird, asking for permission like this. He would feel even stranger going to the Ancestral Hall without it. He learned his lesson.

Jiang Cheng was quiet for a full minute, looking between him and Lan Zhan. “Why would you even ask me this? Do you need permission to take a bath, too? Of course you can, stop pissing me off.”

With that, he was gone from the dining hall.

Why would you ask me? You know damn well why, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thought. A quick look at Lan Zhan’s face revealed he was thinking the same.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said in a low tone, tugging on Lan Zhan’s sleeve. “Would you go with me?”

He looked at him with big eyes, hoping to get his message across.

Lan Zhan nodded instantly. “Of course.”

And with that, they were gone as well.

***

The night was cold. It shouldn’t be that cold, they were in Yunmeng. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the night that was cold, but Wei Wuxian.

(There was only one big bed in the guest room, Jiang Cheng failed to mention. “Oh, it’s okay, Lan Zhan! I’ll take the floor. It looks cosy.” “I’ll take it, Wei Ying. Take the bed.” “Absolutely not, Lan Zhan, you take it. You’re a guest.” “So are you, Wei Ying.” “Am I now. Anyway, the bed is yours. I won’t have Hanguang-jun sleep on the floor.” “I don’t mind.” “I do. Get in bed, Lan Zhan!”)

So, at present, Wei Wuxian tossed and turned on the thick pile of blankets on the floor, sticking his head under the sheets; still, he couldn’t help his teeth from clinking. He awoke from a very vivid dream a while ago, panting, and so damn cold under all of the blankets that he thought he was going to freeze. 

Once, he used to feel cold a lot. Now, there were few things he hated more than being cold. 

“Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s voice in the darkness startled him. He sounded a little hoarse and a tight knot formed in Wei Wuxian’s stomach.

“Oh, shit, sorry, Lan Zhan, I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll keep quiet,” he whispered and stilled.

“I’ve been awake for a while. What is wrong, Wei Ying?”

“Nothing,” he gulped. He immediately shivered so hard his entire bundle of blankets shook. His body was a traitor. “I’m just cold.”

He heard Lan Zhan’s blankets shift; for a second he was worried he was going to throw another one at him. He doubted if that was going to help him.

When Lan Zhan spoke again, his voice was much closer. Wei Wuxian could now make out his posture, a ghostly white in the darkness of the room. He was standing over the makeshift cocoon and if Wei Wuxian was right, he was holding out his hand.

“Come to bed. You have to get warm,” Lan Zhan’s tone was soft. “The bed is big enough.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Wei Ying.”

Normally, Wei Wuxian would put up a fight. But he was tired and helpless, and he felt so cold he wanted to cry. He took Lan Zhan’s warm hand and let himself be led to bed. 

Lan Zhan let him in first, and then he slipped in behind him. He threw a blanket over them and Wei Wuxian felt like crying with relief. It was so warm. Lan Zhan’s body radiated warmth. He never wanted to leave.

“Is it better?”

“Oh my god. Yes. Thank you, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered and stuck out a hand to pat Lan Zhan’s head absentmindedly. It awkwardly patted the side of his face instead, which made Wei Wuxian realise Lan Zhan was not lying in his uber-proper Lan position on the back – instead, they were lying face to face on their sides.

If he was warm a moment ago, now he was slowly overheating. Lan Zhan really had a way with him, huh. 

Hanguang-jun didn’t seem to mind the closeness. When he spoke, Wei Wuxian felt the puff of breath on his face. He wanted to lean in.

“You get very cold, very easily, and it seems to bother you a lot. Internally.”

Oh, Lan Zhan. You wouldn’t want to hear of this one.

Wei Wuxian could only stare at him in the darkness. 

“Right, uhm. It is… Bothersome? I guess,” he croaked out. He suddenly felt even weaker. Smaller. “But can we just…Could we not talk about it? Tonight. Please? Just tonight.”

Lan Zhan sighed and rested one of his arms on Wei Wuxian’s middle. Wei Wuxian used all of his brainpower to keep his body from spasming in shock.

In the dark of the room he couldn’t make out much, but he was sure that Lan Zhan was lying with his eyes wide open, too. He shifted closer to him. Their breaths were mixing together. 

“All right.” Lan Zhan sounded sad when the whisper came out. Wei Wuxian wanted to kiss it better. 

He was a goner.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” Wei Wuxian said quietly. He felt drunk. He slurred his words. “I’ll tell you everything, Lan Zhan. But tonight… let’s just sleep. Please.”

In one smooth movement, Lan Zhan fully draped his arms around him. Wei Wuxian let out a small, surprised gasp, but he stuck his head under Lan Zhan’s chin, securing it there. He wrapped his own arm around Lan Zhan’s waist and stilled.

It wasn't something they did. Until it apparently was. 

But Wei Wuxian felt warm, and he felt secure. He didn’t know it was so easy. His eyelids were lead-heavy. He would not let any of his doubts and thoughts keep him up. 

Even at risk of regretting it later.

Lan Zhan breathed into his hair. “Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian was asleep.

***

The lanterns look great, Wei Wuxian didn’t know what the big fuss was about. Jiang Cheng was overreacting.

Seeing Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian heading in their direction, the disciples exchanged quick, alarmed looks. But after a smiley Wei Wuxian (he slept so well after all the initial ruckus, although we was feeling quite funny today, he must have admitted) explained that they were there to help them, and that he would show them some cool tricks Clan Leader Jiang did not approve (nor was he aware of), they immediately relaxed and accepted the assistance, though some reluctantly. Wei Wuxian giggled internally at the thought that it was probably a prerequisite to get accepted into the Jiang Sect now: being a little grumpy and sceptical. 

They warmed up to them further once they learnt that the feared, unapproachable, and intimidating Hanguang-jun was just quiet, and definitely not unapproachable. They spent most of the day helping with the organisation and overseeing some tasks that the younger disciples couldn't quite grasp themselves; they helped out with the talismans, flags, Lan Zhan corrected the sword formation that apparently was a part of their help request, Wei Wuxian gave archery advice, and showed off a bit of his skill. But only a bit; he was an amazing archer, but it wouldn’t do anybody good if they found out that he was better than Jiang Cheng. 

They still didn’t learn what the agenda of the festival was; they had bits and pieces of information, but as for the actual events, they couldn’t coax anything out of the juniors – they kept their mouths sealed the way it reminded Wei Wuxian of the Lans. He missed them. 

(“Jingyi wouldn’t treat me like that,” he whined. “The kid’s too excited. He would spill everything. Doesn’t he get in trouble for that a lot?” “He does. But he makes up with his academic results.” “Does he now? Ha, he’s just like me!” “Do not encourage him, Wei Ying. Two of you would be a lot to handle.” “Hey—Wait, did you just make a joke, Lan Zhan? Did you just joke about me? ” “I have no idea what you are talking about.” “Oh, my Lan Zhan. I don’t know if I should be proud or scared! What’s next, are you going to joke with other people? I’d be jealous!” “Ridiculous.”)

Spending so much time with the juniors, Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but wonder where Jin Ling was, and why isn’t he attending the festival. It would make sense if he did, but… He probably knows I’m here. He shared his concerns with Lan Zhan, who – very sensibly – pointed out that he was probably just busy with the upcoming conference in Langling. Right. Clan Leader Duties.

“You have to remember that it is nothing new to him, after all,” Lan Zhan added, reassuringly. “He spent his childhood here. Surely he has attended the festival each year.” Wei Wuxian could not argue with that.

In the afternoon, they went to Yunmeng. They had dinner. They walked around the town, twice. They were offered combs, jewellery, and prophecies. Wei Wuxian bought (Lan Zhan bought, Wei Wuxian picked) some sweets for Jingyi, Sizhui, and Wen Ning, hoping they will finally meet them soon.

(“You know that it is against the rules. Unjustified bringing in food that does not respect standard meal times.” “Are you going to punish me, Hanguang-jun?” A moment of silence. “Sizhui likes honey. We will buy three more, guniang, please.” “...Lan Zhan?” “Don’t you want one, Wei Ying?”)

Lan Zhan had tea. Wei Wuxian had Lan Zhan’s tea. 

Although he was ashamed to admit it, dragging Lan Zhan around Yunmeng to show him the most obscure, dubious places he used to frequent as a teenager made Wei Wuxian feel both embarrassingly vulnerable and giddy. It made his heart beat faster, knowing that he was being given Lan Zhan’s undivided, unspoiled attention. 

That Lan Zhan didn’t mind having his tea undoubtedly mixed with Wei Wuxian’s saliva, because they did not ask for the second cup. That Lan Zhan was just fine with Wei Wuxian babbling happily while holding onto his sleeve, both arms wrapped around his bicep, uncaring about the looks they were getting. 

That Lan Zhan only shot him an amused look from above his cup when Wei Wuxian got bored and plopped down right next to him instead of on the opposite side of the table, so he could look at him. Lean into his space. Touch him. Twirl his soft hair around his finger absentmindedly, because, apparently, Lan Zhan was also okay with this.

It was a dangerous knowledge to possess, Wei Wuxian thought. To know that there is no one else but him who could make the illustrious Hanguang-jun crouch in the bushes by the lake to watch the frogs living there. It had been Wei Wuxian’s favourite secret spot when he was a kid, he explained. Now they both were definitely too big to fit there and do it secretly, but Lan Zhan just didn’t seem to mind.

Wei Wuxian decided to ignore his thoughts and whatever came with them. If there were warnings, he ignored them all.

He knew he was being childish and naive. Overly, superficially joyous. But it was all genuine, it was what he missed. It was what he wanted to have with Lan Zhan, even if for one day. For one afternoon. The lightness of being. The heaviness of staying.

He selfishly allowed himself to have what he wanted, this one time.

—One too many.

(“Look at the frogs! They’re so cute, Lan Zhan. I know they’re no rabbits, but they jump, too! Cute!” Wei Wuxian was beaming. His gaze was fixed on the frogs sitting on lily pads, his lashes casting a shadow on his face. There was mud on his robes, and the pearls of sweat above his upper lip glistened. “Yes. Lovely.”)

They took the longer way to walk back to the Lotus Pier. 

They returned to the same room, although the problem with the guest chambers was resolved.

Wei Wuxian tried to avoid the lingering, dull sensation in his chest for the entire day. He blamed the dizziness on the physical exhaustion and Lan Zhan’s disgusting tea. And Lan Zhan’s proximity, too. He felt cold that night, again. But this time, Lan Zhan didn’t have to say anything. He just looked at him as he stood next to the bed in his sleeping robes, with his hair down and the forehead ribbon gone, carefully placed on the bedside table. Seeing him like this, Wei Wuxian folded. After a short moment of looking at each other, they simply slid under the same blanket, one by one, and said goodnight, too tired for any doubts. 

*** 

“Wei Wuxian!”

Jiang Cheng’s sharp voice startled Wei Wuxian. He was clumsily seated on the ground by the lakes near the training grounds, where the disciples and volunteers gathered to help with the festival organisation. The last step, a step he was overlooking, was the preparation of the lanterns; they made sure they lit properly and with just a tap. They wanted to minimise the risk of accidents, so instead of real fire, Wei Wuxian had come up with the idea of using special talismans. He was quite proud of them, and even prouder he could put them to such good use. Now, he just needed an eager workforce – there were like a zillion of the lanterns. Fortunately, the Jiang disciples were reliable and helpful. Not as funny and smart and talented and everything as his little Lans, but still good kids.

Jiang Cheng suspiciously glanced at the empty space at Wei Wuxian’s side. “What did you do to make Hanguang-jun leave you for more than five minutes?”

“Lan Zhan has some matters to attend to,” he explained. And indeed, when Wei Wuxian woke up in an empty, but still warm bed, Lan Zhan was already gone. As it was explained to him by some unhappy disciple, he was currently locked in a private study, preoccupied with mail from every single person living in this country, judging by the volume. “Turns out people are going to get upset over their favourite Chief Cultivator resigning, even if he’s going to be replaced by an equally promising candidate.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. He stood with fists clenched in a hostile position, and Wei Wuxian thought the stress accompanying the festival must be getting to him, because he could see no other reason for the irrational anger on his face – everything was going smoothly. There were no disturbances. No delays. No…

“You do realise how weird it is to see you alone?”, Jiang Cheng asked sharply. “Without your precious Hanguang-jun by your side?”

The few disciples working in their proximity quickly dispersed. They were left alone. 

“Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian took a break from what he was doing and let the lantern he was working on fall to the grass. There was something in Jiang Cheng’s voice he really didn’t like. An accusation. “What is it that you’re trying to say, exactly?”

“Nothing special, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng snorted. “I was just commenting on the fact that everytime he loses his sight of you, Hanguang-jun looks more than ready to jump anybody who allowed that. And each time you laugh it off. You make a ridiculous pair.”

Wei Wuxian got up to his feet, unsure of what was unfolding, but decidedly angry that it was. He turned a fierce look upon Jiang Cheng.

“You’re being impudent and rude towards Lan Zhan right now. What happened to your promise of no hostility between you and him? Between the Jiang Clan and Lan Clan?”

Jiang Cheng spat with contempt, “You must be dumb if you think that I’m talking about me or my clan now. I know it might be difficult of a concept to you, but what I had said at that dinner has nothing to do with what I’m saying now.”

“And what are you trying to say, Jiang Cheng? Is this again about me choosing—”

“You, choosing! Heavens hold me,” Jiang Cheng called and took a step closer to Wei Wuxian. He was breathing heavily. “I don’t care much about your choices. I have never cared, this is what you believe anyway, isn’t it? And you have never cared if I care. What makes you think I would, now?”

“No, this isn’t tru—”

“I’m just trying to make you see how much of a hypocrite you are, Wei Wuxian!”

There was a finger digging into Wei Wuxian’s chest. Jiang Cheng was fuming.

“Always trying to tell me how hopeless I am with people! How badly I fuck up relationships, when you don’t even have the guts to see what’s happening with yours! The only one you actually have!”

“Jiang Cheng!”, Wei Wuxian snapped. “Stop this bullshit right now and keep Lan Zhan out of your mouth until you decide to act normal again.”

Jiang Cheng laughed humorlessly. 

“I haven’t even said his name yet, Wei Wuxian. You want me to act normal? Acting normal. Exactly what you do each time you see your Lan Zhan, right? Each time you look at him? What do you think, that people are stupid? Blind? Can’t see what’s happening between you two? How you two have been acting around each other for years? No, thank you, I’d rather grow some balls and look the truth in the eyes. You’re more than late. Are you ever going to tell him, or are you going to make another sixteen years of his life hell?”

It felt like a slap across a cheek. It also felt like a revelation. Something snapped under Wei Wuxian’s foot when he took a panicked step back from Jiang Cheng with wide eyes. 

No. No, we are not doing this. We are not doing this here, now, not the two of us, not without—

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian didn’t know when his voice turned so hoarse. “Please just be quiet. Stop talking about things you have no idea about. Stop saying things about Lan Zhan without him here to defend himself.” 

Jiang Cheng’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t take a step towards Wei Wuxian, like the latter thought he would. He looked entirely confused now.

“Defend himself? From what? Wei Wuxian, do you find him stupid or blind, too? I don’t fucking believe this, you really think he doesn’t know? Wait—do you think he doesn’t…? Are you insane ? Wei Wuxian! Don’t you dare turn your back on me!”

Wei Wuxian did exactly that: he turned to face the other way. To leave. He couldn’t look at Jiang Cheng anymore. He couldn’t listen.

He just wished Jiang Cheng would stop. He just wished he never said those words out loud, because said out loud, they were real. Said out loud, they took shape. As long as they were in his head only – as long as the mere possibility was in his head only, he could live with this. He could live with the longing and the craving, tamed, and contained. He could pray it would go away, or go unnoticed. 

He could live without putting a name to it. He could pray it would not need a name. 

Wei Wuxian also prayed he wouldn’t lose Lan Zhan again, this time being here to witness it. To cause it, to let his emotions ruin everything, and to witness it all. Be there to see the fall, this time. 

He remembered Lan Zhan telling him it was crucial that he opens up; that he lets others in. 

Careful what you wish for, Hanguang-jun. I opened up and something wild and unknown has entered me. It’s warm and it smells of sandalwood. Of incense, old books, and fresh ink. I opened up and let you in, Lan Zhan, and now you won’t leave.

I let you in and now you live somewhere in between my ribs. Beneath my eyelids. 

None of this he could tell Jiang Cheng. None of this he could speak of to anybody.

He took a step to leave, like the coward he was—

Next thing he knew, he was on fire. 

Funny. I have been alive twice, and never had I been burning. 

He heard shouts and suddenly, there were many people around him again. An uproar. Jiang Cheng was screaming, but not at him. Weird. He was running around and spitting directions at his disciples, gesturing towards something on the ground. On the left. On the ground again. There was panic on his face. The juniors were running around, too.

Wei Wuxian, apathetic, only now started to realise that it wasn’t his aggravated mental state, he literally was on fire; his sleeve was burning, the fire going up his arm, soon to catch on his hair. 

What felt like long hours was probably seconds. 

He only managed to think that it was most likely the talisman he planned on using for the next lantern failing, before he was pulled with an invisible string – ha! That’s my work, another one! – and unceremoniously thrown into the nearest lake.

Needless to say, his argument with Jiang Cheng was finished.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake now. Someone take him to the healer, and don’t you dare let him near any mirrors, or you’ll be expelled from the cl—No, nevermind that, I’ll do it. Wei Wuxian, let’s go. Fucking hell.”

*** 

Lan Zhan didn’t commit mass murder only because the circumstances of the accident were described to him in the slightest detail, and he just had to admit that it wasn’t anobody’s fault. He was a fair man.

Lan Zhan still looked like he was contemplating mass murder, because he also couldn’t find any reason for why Wei Wuxian would spontaneously combust in the middle of an argument with Jiang Cheng (an argument he learnt nothing of, told by Jiang Cheng that it had been simply a misunderstanding), during a humid day, with no fire source but the talisman (which wasn’t at fault like Wei Wuxian had suspected, Lan Zhan checked that, too), and no prior exposure to  such… Occurrences. 

Fortunately for everybody, Hanguang-jun’s anger was short-lived, as it seemed that Wei Wuxian was more shocked than he was wounded. He wasn’t even burned, and his robe was wet, but intact (as intact as it had been before the incident), all thanks to Lan Zhan, who used two separate protective talismans (courtesy of Wei Ying’s prototype) on it when he arrived in Gusu, just because he knew Wei Ying’s luck, and because the robe looked like it needed some additional help sticking to his body, anyway. 

The healer checked Wei Wuxian’s vitals and everything else she physically could examine: he was fine besides some minor bruises where he fell in the shallow lake.

There was one more thing, but the healer couldn’t help him with that; she could only politely offer him help with the scissors, and hand him a mirror to inspect the results.

When he stepped out of the healer’s chambers, Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan were already standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him – Lan Zhan visibly worried. Jiang Cheng’s face twisted with shock he didn’t even try to hide.

“Oh, my god.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan took a step closer to a silent Wei Wuxian. “How are you feeling?” Deja vu.

“Naked,” Wei Wuxian said, his tone gravely. “Lan Zhan, I do not exaggerate when I say this is the worst thing that has happened to me during both of my lives, and I have been drowned, beaten, sewed, dea –”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s tone was now sharp. Right. Bad, bad joke. “You are exaggerating. It is just hair. It’ll grow out.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him with wide eyes and frantically started pointing at his head with his hands, palms open, dramatically changing poses every few seconds. How is this not bad?! 

His hair was… considerably shorter now. Shorter than he ever saw any adult wear it. Hell, he shouldn’t have seen anyone wearing it. Short hair was nobody’s hairstyle of choice. Nor was it the custom. He could already imagine people’s shocked, scandalised reactions and this time, he couldn’t blame them.

The hair being chin length now, Wei Wuxian was wondering if he just gave Lan Zhan one more reason to stay away from him to save his image.

But he was exaggerating; it didn’t look bad, it didn’t even feel bad. It just felt weird. Empty. Like he forgot something, and this something was normally attached to his head. The healer helped him even the burned ends and styled the hair, simply slicking it back. It was too short now for a ribbon; he didn’t even know where the ribbon was.

He will never get used to it, Wei Wuxian thought, running his hand through the still damp hair. Lan Zhan hadn’t stopped looking at him for a second. If Jiang Cheng was also looking at him, he didn’t know. He didn’t bother to check.

“Ohm Lan Zhaaan,” he finally whined, coaxing a small smile from the man. At last. “Isn’t it just the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to us? Lan Zhan, people are going to talk even more now, they’re going to doubt your sanity for showing up with me in public!”

“Don’t care.” 

Jiang Cheng huffed loudly, letting everybody know he was there, too. “I see at least your sense of humour isn’t gone,” he said, and added in a hushed tone, “And not only this.”

This made Wei Wuxian eventually look away from Lan Zhan to look at him. But Jiang Cheng was looking at Lan Zhan, too. And Lan Zhan wasn’t looking at Jiang Cheng. 

“See you at the festival. I better fucking do,” Jiang Cheng spat, and left.

Wei Wuxian smiled at Lan Zhan, and shook his head. It felt funny, having his hair brush at his neck this way. 

“Let’s go, Lan Zhan. Let’s not make shijie wait. Please light the lantern for me, though, will you?”

“I will.”

***

People were always stealing glances at them, but now they were stopping in their tracks to shamelessly stare at them. The whispers around them were so intense they created a constant buzz. 

“Such a windy day we have,” Wei Wuxian tried to joke. “It almost sounds like somebody was talking!”

Lan Zhan did not respond. He just glared at everybody who did little as furrow their brows at them. Wei Wuxian could feel how tense he was where their arms were pressed together, as they stood on the main pier of the city.

He didn’t like it when Lan Zhan was upset. 

“Lan Zhan, it’s okay. Let them look. It is only natural,” he whispered intently into Lan Zhan’s ear. “I don’t mind. Let’s get used to it, shall we?”

That made Lan Zhan look at him. He nodded, albeit hesitantly.

“As long as you are comfortable, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian grinned and grabbed Lan Zhan by the elbow. “Who wouldn’t be with you, Hanguang-jun!”

It turned out the crowd they were standing in was queuing for boats – when they heard the similar name, everyone standing in front of them looked behind their shoulders and hummed in recognition, bowing rapidly. Soon enough, someone pushed them forward, to the start of the line, and they were shown a small boat as people were rushing around them.

“This way, Hanguang-jun, please—Wei gongzi, here, Clan Leader Jiang said you would be here, but he didn’t mention you wouldn’t– that you would use this way to get in! The Sect usually embarks directly from the Lotus Cove, we assumed—This way, please, here is your boat, please mind the step, Hanguang-jun. Thank you, gongzi, thank you, no, no problem… Please, have a seat, and here are lanterns for you… Two of them, please… They’re really beautiful this year, we must thank you, Wei gongzi, for your kind assistance, too—Is everything set up, Xiaojo?! Yes, thank you– Here you go, please enjoy our festival, we sincerely hope you like it, thank you—”

They embarked. 

There were already many boats on the lake, and still more to join them. Wei Wuxian did not know what to expect from the festival, but whatever his expectations were, they would be shattered by what was unfolding in front of their eyes.

Everything took place on water, where the huge lake created a cove. Spectators were stationed on piers and in the little boats on the lake – there was a comfortable distance between each. From where he and Lan Zhan were positioned, he could barely make out the faces of the people standing on the piers. His and Lan Zhan’s boat was secluded from the rest with dense structures of lotus flowers, pink blossoms brushing against the boat. 

Wei Wuxian thought he hadn’t seen so many people in a long time. There were disciples dressed in the Jiang Clan colours. He spotted some green and red robes. Gold of Lanling. White of Gusu (when he stole a glance at Lan Zhan, he was looking in that direction, too). There were people from the closest vicinity – Yunmeng and villages scattered around the lakes – and people Wei Wuxian reckoned had come a very long way to be here. Children, adults, elders. Friends, laughing heartily, and families. Lovers, wrapped around each other. 

This is what shijie would have wanted.

Everyone – every person on the ground and in the boats – was holding a lantern, not yet lit. It was already getting dark, but the area was light; the piers were well-lit, and the boats each had a candle at the nose. All was helped with just a bit of cultivation and held up by one talisman or another. The water reflected the lights beautifully, making everything appear in warmer, hazier colours. In shades of pink and purple. Sparkles of yellow and gold.

In the focal point of the lake were two wooden podiums. The bigger one was floating there, lit by lanterns, and completed with delicate drapes and canopy. Jiang Cheng was sitting in the middle of it on a low chair, two disciples at his sides. He was dressed in decorative, purple robes, the ornaments in his hair were more elaborate. Strangely, the decorations did not make him look older. He looked younger.

He was smiling. 

Wei Wuxian couldn’t remember when he last saw him smiling like this, with his eyes glistening, and both rows of pretty, white teeth visible. With his nose wrinkling. 

He sometimes felt like Jiang Cheng’s smile was something he made up. Not real.

Definitely never real around him anymore.

Their eyes met. Wei Wuxian was stunned, too stunned to react the way he would want to. Jiang Cheng closed his mouth. He sent him a different type of smile – a personal, familiar one – and bowed his head, slowly. Wei Wuxian smiled back at him – or at least he hoped he moved his lips in a way that formed a smile. He nodded, too. Jiang Cheng’s eyes darted to Lan Zhan. Even if a bit too formally, they also exchanged small, tight smiles.

It was always like that with Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian realised. One step forward, two steps back. 

Dear shijie, I think you would be very happy if you could see this. I’m sorry you can’t. I’m sorry I didn’t let you. I wish you were here with us. I never thought I would have to go through life without you. I never thought I would make Jiang Cheng go through life alone, too. Please forgive me for taking you for granted. 

If you were here, shijie, I think you would smile. The world was better, somehow, when you were smiling. 

“Happy birthday, shijie,” he whispered to himself.

Wei Wuxian could only now bring himself to look at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan was already looking at him, smile in his eyes. They were both sitting sideways, their legs touching. The lightest breeze made Lan Zhan’s silky hair swirl delicately. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but the darkness did not draw him in. His eyes were burning, reflecting the countless candles around. 

He carries light where he goes, and he goes into chaos. He brings light to where chaos reigns. 

Lan Zhan’s gaze was moving over his face. Wei Wuxian felt the blush creeping up his neck, but there was not a single force in this universe that would make him stop looking at Lan Zhan. 

When gentle fingers ran through his hair, this time he didn’t startle. He leaned in to the touch. He turned his face just enough to brush his lips against the hand caressing the hair at the side of his head. When Lan Zhan grazed his jaw, he kissed where his palm ended and wrist started. They did not break eye contact.

“You look good,” Lan Zhan said softly. “With shorter hair. It compliments your face.”

Wei Wuxian smiled at him sincerely and lazily. 

He wasn’t given time to ponder over what was happening, because out of nowhere, a dozen flutes started playing. 

Now he was startled as he looked around, distraught. His attention was immediately caught by the smaller of the podiums, where a few disciples were standing and playing a sweet, nostalgic melody. After a moment, a few others joined them from the piers. Wei Wuxian craned his neck to see better. 

Nobody else seemed to have a strong reaction like he did – people appeared to unwind, smiling and appreciative. 

He heard Lan Zhan hum in understanding. “This is clever,” he murmured. He was clearly intrigued. 

Only now had Wei Wuxian realised that it was Lan Zhan’s first time to attend this festival, too, although he was probably invited each year. And each year, he chose not to attend. If Wei Wuxian didn’t know better, he would think it was because of his tight schedule as the Chief Cultivator. 

But Wei Wuxian knew better. Lan Zhan most likely thought it would be disrespectful to show up alone. Or he just didn’t want to come alone. It wasn’t like he had any good memories associated with Yunmeng. Not before this.

Wei Wuxian looked at him. He was glancing around, listening to the music with absorbed attention, his eyes bright. 

He likes it. 

“What do you think this is, Lan Zhan?”

“A way to make people reevaluate and abandon their prejudices.” Seeing Wei Wuxian’s confusion, Lan Zhan explained further, quietly, “People have gained… wrong associations with the sound of the flute. Its meaning was misinterpreted through the years. By making the flute concert a part of a festival that celebrates something so positive, a new meaning is reinforced.”

Never-ending surprises it was, then, Wei Wuxian thought. “Very clever of Jiang Cheng. I just… I didn’t think he would come up with something like this. Good business decision, too, I guess.” 

Jiang Cheng, you silly, silly boy. He felt a lump form in his throat. 

Lan Zhan nodded. 

After the music interlude was over, everyone started gathering their lanterns. The whispers and giggles all ended when Jiang Cheng got up from his chair. People bowed their heads, some bowed in the limited space the boats provided.

“Thank you all for coming to this year’s Lotus Lights Festival,” his voice was unnaturally loud. “I am more than glad to see such big crowds after two years of inactivity. It makes me happy, and it would make my beloved jie even happier. Please enjoy the rest of the evening and tomorrow’s activities, too. Spend it with your families and loved ones.” He gazed over the crowd. The unstable lights were flickering on his face. “Let’s all light our lanterns now. I wish you all happiness and good health. Thank you.”

Jiang Chang bowed deeply. He was brief, but he was to-the-point. A few people exclaimed his thanks at him, many were bowing again. 

Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian prepared their lanterns. They closed their eyes and clasped their hands together. They did not need words; they knew what they were doing. It wasn’t their first time.

Wei Wuxian made a wish and opened his eyes. 

When he saw that Lan Zhan’s were still closed, he took the liberty of locking his gaze on his lips. He might have just made a wish, but he had another one, and it involved mostly kissing Lan Zhan. Perhaps exclusively that. He wanted to close the distance between them, lean forward, grab his waist, touch his face, and kiss him stupid—

Lan Zhan opened his eyes. Reluctantly, Wei Wuxian took his eyes off. After a second, their eyes met. On a signal given by a few disciples, the lanterns were lit up and started rising towards the sky, slowly populating it. 

The atmosphere turned sleepier, more melancholic.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was closer to him now, Wei Wuxian noticed. They must have shifted when preparing the lanterns, because Lan Zhan was sitting sideways between Wei Wuxian’s spread legs. “What did you wish for?”

Wei Wuxian was quiet for longer than normally. “For a life lived,” he said. “I’m done surviving.”

For a life lived, and lived means lived with you.

It was difficult to guess what Lan Zhan was thinking – his face was unreadable.

“And you, Lan Zhan?” 

“To live a just life with no regrets.” Wei Wuxian inhaled sharply, but Lan Zhan was looking at him with the soft thing in his eyes. “This is still my only wish in life. I have my regrets, but they are of the past. What comes now is what matters.”

Oh, I must flee. If I want your wish to come true, Lan Zhan, I must go.

“Wei Ying,” A hand on his thigh. “I said it already. I will say it again. You are not what I regret. You will never be what I regret. Quite the opposite.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian didn’t even know if he said it out loud or not. “You… You are like shijie. Have I ever told you how similar you are?”

He was very close to start sobbing, but Lan Zhan rubbed his thigh comfortingly. 

“Tell me now.”

So he did.

“Soft, collected exterior. Passionate and fierce interior, both of you,” Wei Wuxian snorted, his voice wet. These tears won’t dry easily. “She was tender, but she wasn’t powerless. She made Jin Zixuan try harder. I loved that about her. She loved people, and always saw the best in them, but she encouraged them to try. She was a great cook. She loved poetry. She was an excellent swimmer and had a sweet tooth. I didn’t know until very late. She liked watching archery. She painted. She wasn’t afraid of bugs or snakes at all; it made Madame Yu furious, for some reason, but Jiang-shushu only laughed at it.”

The words were flowing out of him, spilling like blood from an open wound. 

“She was so sweet, shijie, she was an absolute gem… nobody deserved her. No one. Nobody deserves you, Lan Zhan. You are too—You two are—were too good for your own good. She adored Jiang Cheng. She was— She was unlucky to adore me, too. From day one, she would always choose me, choose to help me. You both… You both would kill and die for those you love. And she did. She threw herself on a sword for me.” 

That came out wrong. But he couldn’t stop.

Wrong, and insensitive. He cringed at himself. How could he even imply that Lan Zhan lo—that Lan Zhan could —

“Wei Ying.” The distance between them was even smaller now. 

“Everyone who cares for me ends up stripped off of everything they have, Lan Zhan. It’s the truth.” 

He didn’t hide the tears.

He felt like there was barely anything left in him but tears and words, these days.

“I wished for a life lived, but I don’t think I can fulfil my wish, Lan Zhan, because for me a life lived means that it is lived with you, and I want nothing but you to be—be safe, and for your wish to come true, and how can you life a just life and have no regrets if I stay—if I’m here? So if it’s either you living without regrets or without me, and me, just—I cannot make you– I cannot expect you to choose—”

Wei Wuxian should get used to this.

He was being carefully, clumsily held as he rocked back and forth, sobbing harder than he ever expected he could. The position wasn’t ideal, they were half-lying on the bottom of the wet boat, Lan Zhan was holding him, and Wei Wuxian hid his face in his hands, he felt his hair stick to the wetness, and then fingers slowly grazing his forehead to move the hair out of the way, and he felt lips pressed to his hairline and he breathed, and breathed, and breathed, and he was shaking, and trembling, but he took another breath and listened to Lan Zhan humming his song somewhere near his left ear, and he felt himself go slack, and the boat rocked gently, and he just let himself feel the rocking, feel the motion, the waves, he hoped the waves would take him back home, but home was where he was now, in the arms that held him with no hesitance, and he kept on breathing, and he was breathing more evenly albeit hard, and he was still pressing his palms into his face, but with less force now, no, no force, and he sniffled, not very elegantly, and puffed, and huffed, and let out a small laugh after some time, because he was peeking between his fingers and he noticed that Lan Zhan’s white robes were not very pristine anymore, and they were soaked wet where they laid on the wet desks, and Lan Zhan kissed his temple again, and--

Suddenly, he was all right. 

He was all right.

“Wei Ying,” the voice was gentle, but never condescending. “If someone wants to care about you, it’s their choice to make. Your sister made that choice. You are not to blame for this. If they want to stay with you, it is their choice to make, too. It is my choice to make. And I said it multiple times, but I will say it again. I would make the choice to stay with you each time, and I will. My only regrets concern not being with you, so if you wish to have a life lived with me in it… That means our wishes align. Breathe.”

And so he did. He laid on Lan Zhan’s chest, his face and clothes wet, and he breathed in, and out. In and out.

He heard Lan Zhan. He didn’t yet know where this was leaving them, but he heard him. And he knew Lan Zhan didn’t require any follow up to this, nor did he want him to say anything. He knew he wasn’t ignoring him or letting it go. They knew each other well enough.

So Wei Wuxian took another breath.

When the following day he woke up to the news that Lan Zhan must immediately leave the Lotus Pier and go back to the Cloud Recesses, he felt a tinge of fear, a bit of shock, and a great deal of sadness that they must separate again. 

But knowing now that it is only temporary, and that Lan Zhan wants him to come back, and that he wants to come back – knowing that helped him settle down, childishly, just a bit. It felt good to know that if life allows, there is nothing standing in their way back to each other. Even if for a night.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, early in the morning an urgent message was delivered to Lan Zhan. It was from Lan Xichen – acting in the capacity of a brother and the Chief Cultivator – requiring Lan Zhan’s immediate return to Gusu. The explanation, strange as it was, appeared to be the following: Clan Leader Yao arrived in the Cloud Recesses and, to quote the man on the mission himself, he officially stated that he would not leave until Lan Wangji talks to him in person, and does it as soon as possible.

It appeared Lan Zhan had no choice but to return quicker than everybody had anticipated.

Him, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng were standing in the Sword Hall, accompanied by a few disciples. They just rushed through their breakfast and Wei Wuxian still felt a bit rough from sleep. 

But, obviously, he couldn’t miss Lan Zhan’s departure. He hated to see him go, but he would despise missing a chance to hear him say "see you soon.”

When Lan Zhan was done explaining the reasons for his abrupt leave, Wei Wuxian suddenly made a face at him — eyes big, mouth slightly parted.

“Oh,” he paled. “Lan Zhan... Perhaps we shouldn’t have… ignored… some of Clan Leader Yao’s letters….”

Jiang Cheng looked at both of them with bewilderment.

“Some of his letters? He sent multiple?”

“He sent fourteen,” Lan Zhan explained, exasperated. 

Wei Wuxian nervously scratched his chin.

“Just curious,” said Jiang Cheng, tone fake-light. “How many of them exactly have you ignored?”

“Fourteen.” 

Lan Zhan’s tone was flat. Jiang Cheng actually had the guts to laugh – his laughter sounded more like a bark, but it was a laughter all right.

“Old moron. Two clan leaders told him to shove it so he decided to turn to His Excellency, only to get completely dumped. Too bad.”

Now it was Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian who looked at him with bewilderment.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Zhan asked, brows slightly furrowed. “Has he contacted you, too?”

Jiang Cheng looked at him and nodded. “He sure did. First he arrived in Qinghe, let me see… Two weeks ago? Three, perhaps.” He shrugged. “At least according to Nie Huaisang, and we all know how reliable this man is.”

Too reliable, Wei Wuxian thought immediately. He and Lan Zhan exchanged quick looks. What Jiang Cheng was saying was… surprisingly interesting.

“Anyway. Huaisang told him he doesn—Oh, you know damn well what he said. Clan Leader Yao could have saved himself the trouble of travelling all the way to Qinghe. He came here right afterwards.” Jiang Cheng looked irritated and shot a look at Wei Wuxian. “He blabbered on for two hours and I didn’t catch a single thing besides that he’s in some kind of undescriptive trouble that he cannot tell me about but I must immediately drop everything and help him, even though he could not for the love of mercy explain what he needed help with. You two should compete, Wei Wuxian. I’d pay to see who can produce more words without actually saying a single valuable, informative thing.” He scrunched his nose. “No, scratch that.”

Wei Wuxian huffed. “You—!”

He was interrupted by Lan Zhan.

“And he did not provide any further comment? Nothing that would indicate the issue at hand?”

Jiang Cheng snorted. “What have I just told you, Hanguang-jun? He came, made a fuss, yelled at me, looked like he was going to qi deviate any minute, decided I was of no help, and left. It wasn’t even me who told him to fuck off.”

Lan Zhan was deep in thought. “His letters were equally vague.”

“Vague. Sure, you can call it that.”

Wei Wuxian decided to butt in. Perhaps he just enjoyed this conversation (seriously, what was wrong with the guy?) or he just really didn’t want Lan Zhan to leave yet.

“This is bizarre even for Clan Leader Yao, but I guess we would know if it was something disastrous, right? He just wants to compete with me for the title of drama king so bad,” he grinned.

Jiang Cheng huffed. Lan Zhan smiled at him with his eyes.

“I’d better go now, brother is waiting for me. So is Clan Leader Yao,” he explained and took out Bichen. They went out to stand in the Sword Hall yard. 

“Maybe you should just tell him to shove it as well,” Wei Wuxian murmured quietly, sulking, thinking only Jiang Cheng can hear him.

“It may resort to this.” Lan Zhan did hear his comment. Jiang Cheng laughed, again.

“Clan Leader Jiang. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality during my stay here. Lotus Lights Festival was impeccably prepared. Many thanks for the invitation.”

Lan Zhan bowed politely to Jiang Cheng, who always looked slightly uncomfortable when it happened, but he bowed back.

“Anytime, Hanguang-jun.” No, he did not mean it, but he was also aware everyone already knew that, so it wasn’t lying, technically. “Please pass my greetings to your uncle and Clan Leader Lan.” 

“Thank you, I will.” Lan Zhan now turned to Wei Wuxian with a strange look. “Wei Yi—”

Jiang Cheng jumped in, speaking fast, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Do not fret about Wei Wuxian, I’ll personally see to him getting unharmed back to Gusu, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan looked like this was exactly what he had been afraid of, but he didn’t say anything. He bowed in their direction one last time, locking his eyes with Wei Wuxian longer than probably necessary. He parted his lips to say something and hesitated; Wei Wuxian thought he looked uncomfortable talking around Jiang Cheng.

“Perhaps it is good timing for me to come back,” he said pointedly. “Sizhui is back.”

Sizhui and Wen Ning are both back in the Cloud Recesses after long travels, and they’re safe and sound, and it’s rotten luck that Clan Leader Yao needs to be dealt with at the same time, but it is a silver lining in how their arrivals overlapped, so it might be good that I go now, but it will be even better once you join me; that was what Lan Zhan meant, and Wei Wuxian knew that. 

He smiled at him warmly.

“Tell him I say hi!”

Tell him I miss him, and that I cannot wait to see him. Tell Wen Ning that I miss him, too, and thank him for taking good care of A-Yuan. Enjoy your time with Sizhui, Lan Zhan, and make him eat the stupid carrots. If he takes after the Wens and you, not me, he will know better than to skip meals. Regardless, feed him more carrots. And the sweets we bought, too. 

Lan Zhan nodded. He bowed last time in the direction of Jiang Cheng, turned around, and he was gone. 

Wei Wuxian already missed him.

Stupid. You haven’t seen him for a year and lived, and now you separate for how long, a few days tops, and you’re whining? Get a grip, Wei Ying. Get up.

“Damn,” Jiang Cheng shook his head. They were standing in the yard alone. His voice startled Wei Wuxian. “Hurts to admit it, but… you might have had a point saying he’s actually quite funny.” He admitted, and Wei Wuxian's mouth fell open. “...Compared to a dead person, perhaps! Don’t look at me like that and close your mouth. I still think he’s stuck-up, timid, boring, uninteresting, col—”

“Oh, Jiang Cheng! There’s so many things about Lan Zhan you don’t know!”

“And I’m going to pray to every single fucking god there is that I never will. Let’s go, Wei Wuxian, quit your bullshit.”

***

Just like Wei Wuxian expected, given a chance to observe Jiang Cheng as a Clan Leader from up close, his brother turned out to be awfully independent, quick-witted, short-tempered, competent, and self-reliant to a fault. He did not have an advisor (well, Wei Wuxian thought. That would be me, in another life), he rejected the importance of having a running board, he didn’t even trust one disciple enough to rely on or let himself be helped. It pained Wei Wuxian to see him stretched thin like this. It pained him even more knowing that he was mostly to blame for this. 

If Jiang Cheng wanted to viciously point it out one more time, he didn’t.

After Lan Zhan’s departure, Jiang Cheng got caught up in his duties anew; to say he was busy would be an understatement. He and Wei Wuxian found themselves growing away. They took their dinners together, when Jiang Cheng had any dinner at all. They saw each other in passing, when Jiang Cheng changed from one chamber to another, or when he greeted guests. They met briefly one evening, when Jiang Cheng saw a group of disciples off, instructing them one last time about the night hunt they were taking on. Wei Wuxian was merely a moral support; Jiang Cheng didn’t allow him to accompany them.

(“You’re going to do everything for them, I know you. They’re here to learn, not to be reminded that they’re never going to be half as good as the legendary Yilling Laozu.”)

While Wei Wuxian was no stranger to feeling like he had more time on his hands that he could ever make use of, he was a stranger to the feeling of guilt accompanying it. When Lan Zhan was busy in the Cloud Recesses (and he had been the busiest person on earth once, for heaven’s sake), Wei Wuxian felt at worst a bit restless, but still relieved he had his own things to do. He was never made to feel like he was useless. Even if Lan Zhan’s schedule was hectic, he always found time for Wei Wuxian; for a quick tea break, for dinner, for a chat. For their compulsory evening stroll. 

In the Lotus Pier, he felt like an idle intruder. It was not a good feeling considering it had been his home, once. When Jiang Cheng was busy, he made his frustration generally known. His lips a tight line, he barely shot Wei Wuxian a glance when they saw each other during the day. He talked in barks if time allowed for them to have a meal together in the evening. Irritation seeped through every pore of his body when he noticed that Wei Wuxian was purposefully finding out tasks he could help with the juniors. 

Wei Wuxian understood him, in a way: he had every right to behave like this, because it was him who was facing the countless deadlines, piles of letters, and problems. Who needed to take care of the entire clan, and region. Who everyone in the vicinity relied on.

Jiang Cheng, not Wei Wuxian. 

So, Wei Wuxian tried his best not to interrupt him; he made himself as scarce as possible, unless it was Jiang Cheng who reached out to him.

Needless to say, Wei Wuxian slowly but surely was preparing to leave, again. After a few days of wandering around Yunmeng and visiting the places he once knew better than anyone else, he realised they no longer evoke joyful memories, that he no longer feels nostalgic. Now every tree he passed was a tree he used to climb with shijie. Every boyish, excited voice he heard in the streets was Jiang Cheng’s voice. Every hot bun stall was the one stall he once hid inside while playing hide-and-seek with Jiang Cheng. No one could find him, then. It took a bucket of Jiang Cheng’s tears and shijie’s desperate calls for him to accept the failure and come out.

(“I was here all the time! A-Cheng, you passed this stall two times!” “How could I know you hid inside of it!” “You didn’t look hard enough! And I lost!” “Now, now. Why don’t we call a truce? A-Xian, A-Cheng was just worried about you. It wasn’t about winning or losing, but finding you, silly! Let’s head home, I’ll make you two dinner and we will play together tomorrow, does that sound fair? “Will you play with us, shijie? For real?” “Yes, I will. Of course I will.”)

Every small pond and every stream filled with lotuses was another place he could show Lan Zhan, if he was there. He could show him, and share some memories about it, and feel Lan Zhan’s attentive eyes on him. And maybe they could take a boat and ship out to the middle of the lake to talk in private, and maybe Wei Wuxian could lay his head in Lan Zhan’s lap to feel his warm hand in his short hair again. Maybe they could share some lotus seeds, again. 

And then they would decide it’s time to go, that’s it’s time to leave Yunmeng, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t feel so guilty to be doing this alone, to leave Jiang Cheng, knowing that he will be mad at him, but he will also be relieved, because it wasn’t the Yunmeng of their childhood, it wasn’t the Lotus Pier of their childhood, they were both stranded and they knew it was nothing it this world that would fix it, they knew that there’s some things you cannot fix, and that they were one of them, and every moment they spent together, the two of them, could be the moment either of them realises that it is just borrowed time what they were doing now. 

It felt good because it was time-limited, and of time they were shortly running out.

Now, all Wei Wuxian felt was an indescribable sadness, and loneliness. He felt like talking, but there was nobody he could talk to. He fell silent, and silence like this felt worse than any punishment Madam Yu ever imposed on him.

So he decided to talk to Lan Zhan. It was only natural he would turn to Lan Zhan. 

But he didn’t want to write a letter; he didn’t trust his hand. He was afraid he was going to accidentally pull an entire novel, and he knew Lan Zhan did not have time for novels. He would probably read it, though. He would read it and note down every remark he had and send it back to me. 

Instead, he decided to make use of another of his experimental talismans (somewhere in the Lotus Pier Jiang Cheng’s head started hurting). It wouldn’t do him any good if he didn’t try, right? And perhaps Lan Zhan would appreciate it (there wasn’t a single invention he didn’t appreciate, he told him once. Wei Wuxian held onto his words like a drowning man would clutch at a straw.)

“Uhm. Hi, Lan Zhan? Crap, I really hope this works, because I feel like an idiot, and I rarely do! Just imagine, I’m sitting on the floor in ou–in the room and I’m talking to a piece of paper, haha. Ridiculous, I know. Anyway! Hi! As you can probably hear — wait, I actually hope you can? Should I talk louder? Is my voice clear? How do I sound? How—no, wait, nevermind, we will get to that once I start testing this thing out, back in Gusu. Right! This is what I wanted to tell you, Lan Zhan. I think–I think I’m going back to Gusu, soon! Probably in a few days. I’m not sure how much this thing can take, honestly, how long have I been talking for…? Ah, nevermind! I’ll be finishing up now. I hope this doesn’t startle you. Wait, shit, I hope it actually reaches you when you’re already done and alone, it feels weird to know someone else could— Anyway! I’ll be leaving Yunmeng soon and I wanted to actually let you know this time, so you know, I won't startle Jingyi again, or something. I hope someone lets me in, though, haha. Sorry. Okay! Shit this is awkward. Okay, bye! I miss you, Lan Zhan! Wait, I mean—well. I do. I miss you and it’s cold in here, so…I’ll see you soon? I hope.”

Wei Wuxian sat for a few more moments, pressing the piece talisman to his lips, and he really, really looked stupid like this, but he was also smiling for the first time in days. Finally, he made a complicated gesture with his hand, furrowed his brows, snapped his fingers, and the talisman burnt in front of his eyes.  

I really hope this works. And that it’s Lan Zhan who gets it, not his uncle.

“Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng’s voice at the door made him jump. “Are the Lotus Pier pillows not soft enough for your bony ass? What are you doing on the floor?”

“Ah, Jiang Cheng, you should try the floor sometimes, it’s humbling.” Jiang Cheng huffed at him as he rose to his feet and brushed the dirt off his robes. It did not help them much. 

“Thanks, I’ll pass. Come on now, we don’t have the entire night.” With a swoosh of purple, he left the room.

Wei Wuxian ran up to him, a confused look on his face. “Jiang Cheng! Where are you dragging me?”

Jiang Cheng barely shot him a look. “My chambers. I need a drink. It’s been hell of a damn week.”

“Oh, we’re drinking? Should have told me right away, Jiang Cheng, I’m honoured! Is anyone joining us? Or am I getting special treatment and a private audition from the Clan Leader?”

“I’m going to get drunk alone if you don’t shut up this instant.”

“You’re no fun.”

***

It was like that with Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thought, a vague feeling of deja vu mixing with the liquor.

One step forward, two steps back. Or, perhaps – two steps forward, one step back.

It turned out Jiang Cheng still wasn’t big on manners and preambles when it came to drinking. They were sitting outside the Clan Leader’s chambers on the small private pier, secluded from the rest of the Lotus Pier, bottles of liquor at their feet. When Wei Wuxian started whining about the cold, Jiang Cheng simply threw him a blanket he snatched from his chambers and heavily sat down next to him with a big sigh.

They sat like that and drank for a long while, surprisingly comfortable. Jiang Cheng vented for a couple of minutes about what stupid and hopeless things he had to endure this week. Wei Wuxian listened, and then he told him about what he was up to: about the places he visited, about the old friends he spotted. About how he started this game where he makes a mental guess about how people are going to react to him when he enters any public place. Jiang Cheng snorted. He said he wished he wasn’t a clan leader sometimes only to be able to evoke more natural reactions in people; he was sick of the fake politeness. Wei Wuxian thought it was the most Jiang Cheng thing Jiang Cheng ever said.

But it also reminded him of something.

“Jiang Cheng,” he started, uncharacteristically a little self-conscious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for a couple of days now, but you know my memory. How is Jin Ling doing? I haven’t seen him at the festival,” he added quickly, sensing the rising tension. “I was just wondering how he’s holding up!”

Jiang Cheng fixed his gaze on him. Wei Wuxian was expecting to be ignored, or scolded. 

“He’s a kid,” Jiang Cheng huffed. He accepted Wei Wuxian’s question. “Competent, but still a kid. The Jins are insufferable by nature, so I guess he’s doing great all things considered. But yeah. He’s doing good.” He concluded. “He couldn’t come to the festival because of the workload. Although Clan Leader Yao hasn’t made his way to Lanling yet – courtesy of Hangjuang-jun hurting his pride, apparently – A-Ling is expecting him to, so he sent out some of his disciples for a preliminary night hunt, just in case they run into something.”

Smart kid. Still a kid, agreed, but a clever one. Wei Wuxian felt something warm bloom in his chest. He took a sip of the liquor.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to write to him, Wei Wuxian, would it,” Jiang Cheng snapped at him, but with no real venom. He took a sip, too. 

Wei Wuxian raised his brow. “Does he want me to? Of course I would write to him, I just assumed…”

“And this was your first mistake,” Jiang Cheng cut him off.

It truly was. Always is.

He wished to talk to Jing Ling. He really, really did. He thought there are some things that the boy deserved to know, and he should hear them from him. If he wanted to; if he’d allow that. 

“This Sizhui boy,” Jiang Cheng’s voice was suddenly very curious. Wei Wuxian almost snapped his neck when he turned to look at him. “The one Hanguang-jun mentioned when he was leaving. Is that the sickeningly polite boy? The one travelling with Gho—Wen Ning?”. He did his best to mask the bitterness.

“Oh. Yes, that’s Sizhui. Lan Sizhui. A-Yuan. That’s him, love the kid. So good. Is he sickeningly polite, though? He is quite the best, right. Why are you asking, Jiang Cheng? Why so sudden?”. Wei Wuxian didn’t know why and how the panic in his voice started. Jiang Cheng furrowed his brows.

“Hold the fuck up, Wei Wuxian. I just wanted to ask you why Hanguang-jun is so keen on the boy, but what did you say? A-Yuan? You surely don’t mean…?”

They stared at each other in silence. If Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure if Jiang Cheng remembered the smiley boy in dirty robes running around the Burial Mounds this one time he had been there, now he was. Jiang Cheng’s expression changed rapidly into one of understanding, and then a few emotions showed on his face: disbelief. Confusion. Anger. 

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice sharper than he intended. “Before you jump to any conclusions, let me actually—After I… After Nightless City, Lan Zhan came back to the Burial Mounds and found him, sick and hiding. He’s… he’s the only one. He took him in, and pretty much raised him, save for the period he spent in seclusion. Sizhui lost his memories, which is likely a blessing, but Wen Ning made him remember some of the things, and now he knows. And he’s like, the best kid ever.”

“So,” Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how much of what he just told was already known by him. “He’s a Wen. Like, the last fucking one alive, excluding Wen Ning, but his status is rather dubious, is it not.”

Wei Wuxian tensed up. “Yes, he is, Jiang Cheng, but he is first and foremost just a boy. And technically a Lan. Please don’t say anything mean, I might not look like it now, but I would fight you about him.”

“Is this who you think I am, Wei Wuxian?”, Jiang Cheng spat in disbelief. “That I’m going to lash out at some innocent child for what, surviving? You’re unbelievable! I was just asking!”

They fell silent. Wei Wuxian felt shame, but he also felt stubborn enough to think you already did, Jiang Cheng, You did raise your hand at someone for mere survival. But he couldn’t say it out loud. He could not.

It made him understand how many things like this there were. Things he wouldn’t say to Jiang Cheng, not strictly because he couldn’t, but more because they wouldn’t make any difference now. 

After a moment, Jiang Cheng spoke again, calmer. “Anyway. Lucky for the child to be found by Hanguang-jun. It makes more sense to me.”

“What does?”

“The way he spoke about him. I’m not a particularly nosy person, quite honestly I don’t give a fuck, especially about the esteemed Hanguang-jun’s private life – do not look at me like this, Wei Wuxian, I care as much as is needed and you know it’s enough, besides, his private life is mostly you, so I just need to keep track of one of you at a time – anyway, I’m not nosy, but the way he spoke to you about this Sizhui boy was just so bizarre, I had to ask. I was making sure you’re not getting your ass into some kind of trouble again or whatever.” Jiang Cheng tried to make his voice seem rough, but he didn’t succeed, so he added, “Turns out I wasn’t far off!”

Wei Wuxian smiled at him, sadly. He felt cold – he took one last sip from his bottle and placed it, empty, at his feet.

“I think I’m going to leave soon, Jiang Cheng.” His voice was quiet. He didn’t want to look at his brother, but he did.

He expected an argument. 

“Of course you are, Wei Wuxian. I’m surprised it took you so long to tell me,” Jiang Cheng huffed.

Oh.

“Were you… expecting me to leave?”

“Not necessarily,” Jiang Cheng reached for another bottle, and handed Wei Wuxian one. Hesitantly, he took it. “I was expecting you wouldn’t find the Lotus Pier as welcoming as we both would like to think you would. And quite honestly, I don’t blame you.”

Oh, what the fuck, now.

“Language!”

Jiang Cheng was partly amused. Wei Wuxian did not register the words leaving his mouth. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time after Hanguang-jun left that you’re going to feel… Whatever the fuck you’re feeling, Wei Wuxian”, Jiang Cheng gestured vaguely, cringing. “I knew you would want to go back to him, sooner rather than later. I told you,” he emphasised and looked at Wei Wuxian, more sober than one would expect him to be. “You are a fool, and you are a hypocrite. You aren’t going to agree with me, or if you are, you’re going to do it in such a self-pitiful way it will make me want to throw up. I know you don’t accept advice, and I’m the last person willing to give you any, knowing better than anyone you always do what you want anyway, but if you did take this one, you’d save both yourself and Hanguang-jun trouble. And this is explicitly the last thing from me on this topic, because it’s pissing me off and making me uncomfortable, and you better be happy I told you this much, because we’re probably going to talk again next year, I’m realistic about it. And don’t you dare say anything about it now, if you’re going to disagree. I won’t hear it.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him in shock. Vulnerable and exposed, this is how he felt. Helpless and defeated, too. He must be doing awfully, if it was Jiang Cheng of all people who noticed how down bad he had been. 

And again, he felt like talking, but this time, he couldn’t talk with anyone. Not only Jiang Cheng (never Jiang Cheng, he knew), but, to his freshly-discovered, paralysing fear, not even to Lan Zhan. Especially not to Lan Zhan. 

I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. I’m trying my best, but I think I’m going to fail this little quest of mine. I have been talking, and I have been talking so much it makes my tongue sore, and I have said so much I wonder if it doesn’t make your head hurt sometimes, because let’s face the truth – it is you I needed to talk to, the most. It is you from whom I kept the most things that I can only share now. It is you who deserves to know everything I left out. 

I opened up, and I let you in, and I spilled my guts, and it seems that I’m going to fail, after all, because it is only you I can talk to like this, but there’s some things I can’t tell you, not you. Never you, if I want both of our wishes to come true. 

Because, Lan Zhan, would you have me any other way than now? If I told you…what, exactly? Jiang Cheng implied that you already know, but do you, Lan Zhan? And if you do, how cruel it is of me, to lead you on like this? How much more cruel would it be, to tell you and inevitably ruin everything we fixed? 

I know you said that I’m brave, but Lan Zhan, I don’t think I am. Not acting like this, like the last coward, holding on to hope that we can stay in this denial forever. That we can stay in between the unspoken. I’m not asking for forgiveness, this is long lost. 

You said there is no need for sorry between us, but aren’t you ever? Sorry? That I’m not half as righteous as you, that I cannot face what I feel, like you did? 

Oh, Lan Zhan. It feels like the more I’m talking, the less I say, sometimes. Let me disappoint you, this one more time. Let me back in Gusu, so that I can tell you I can’t do it, and so that I can have you selfishly to myself again. 

I will learn how to live with myself someday, on the way, as we go. 

Wei Wuxian, deep in his thoughts, never noticed Jiang Cheng’s worried gaze fixed on him, or when he opened his mouth to say something.

Because the next moment, two things happened almost at the same time, and startled them both: first, Wei Wuxian felt something hot and thick on his face. It didn't take much to figure out that it was blood flowing from his nose. 

And the second thing came with a loud noise of glass breaking and Jiang Cheng’s curse.

They both managed to instinctively cover their faces and heads when the bottle of liquor that Wei Wuxian was holding pretty much exploded in his shaking hand, shreds flying around, one catching on Wei Wuxian’s face.

For a second, it was perfectly quiet. 

“What the actual FUCK was that,” Jiang Cheng rapidly rose to his feet and dragged a surprised Wei Wuxian up with him. “You’re bleeding. What the fuck is this! How is your luck so bad, Wei Wuxian! What did you do with that bottle?! Come inside and don’t fall, I’m not carrying you nowhere. Fucking hell!”

Wei Wuxian felt like he should be already used to this.

*** 

Once again, he was left practically unharmed. 

They both covered their faces just in time. Jiang Cheng reckoned that Wei Wuxian, feeble as he was, squeezed the bottle too hard – after all, it wouldn’t be the first time, and probably not the last. Wei Wuxian did agree with him on this one.

The only reminder of their evening ending with a literal bang were a hole in his robes (that he just disregarded – it didn’t make a difference) and a nasty looking cut across Wei Wuxian’s cheekbone that he failed to shield from a small shred of glass.

The cut wasn’t deep or even particularly big, but he had to admit one thing: while checking his reflection in the mirror, taking in the shorter, slick hair, the apparent lack of the red ribbon, the bloodshot eyes, and the cut on his cheek – he couldn’t help but wonder who the man in the mirror was.

He should probably wait for Lan Zhan’s response. He should probably tell Jiang Cheng he was leaving, too.

But come next morning, Wei Wuxian knew that his time in Yunmeng was over; that the last evening was a conclusion to this chapter.

Not having slept for the entire night, too restless and fixated, he got up when it was still dark, gathered his scattered luggage, and quietly left the room.

For a moment, he wanted to go to the Ancestral Hall, but he shook his head and smiled weakly. He needed to leave as soon as possible.

At the crack of dawn, he stood in front of the entrance to the Lotus Pier, unaccompanied by anybody, and bowed deeply.

Silently, he shifted his bag on his arm, stole a bun from the kitchen on his way out, and left for Gusu.

***

He was aware that it wasn’t his smartest idea, to try to get to Gusu with little to none preparation, having packed no food, on foot, and still feeling a little off. On top of all that, it was getting progressively colder the longer he walked; autumn turned to winter, and the only robes he currently had were the ones he was wearing. With the hole. He was already freezing.

He laughed to himself. This is going to be a fun couple of days. It did remind him of the old days. 

Wei Wuxian was aware that it wasn’t his smartest idea, but he was excited, and he was determined, and he was Wei Wuxian: unbeatable, and with spirit impossible to kill. He was going to be fine.

Except, by the end of the day, he started to suspect that he might in fact not be fine. 

By the time he reached a small town (and he winced, because he knew this town, and it wasn’t that far from Yunmeng – was he really moving so slowly?), he was drenched with sweat, hot and cold at the same time, hungry, and dizzy. He wanted to get to the Cloud Recesses as soon as possible, but he was worried (and he rarely was worried about himself) that at this rate, he’s not going to make it to Gusu at all if he doesn’t rest. Frustrated, he could do nothing but to get a room in the nearest inn.

He reached the inn right in time: he was sure he passed out for a moment while waiting for the staff to prepare a bath for him. He was so tired he forgot to order food; he will worry about that tomorrow. For now, he just needed to get a little less grimy and go to bed. As soon as possible. 

What woke him up wasn’t hunger, like he suspected. It was the most exasperated, annoyed sigh he heard since he left the Lotus Pier. So, two days ago.

The Lotus Pier came for him.

“Wei Wuxian,” the voice sneered. “You are an incurable, impossible idiot. Get dressed and come down for dinner. I swear you live off of sheer stubbornness.”

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes again, but he smiled, crookedly. All right. Flying it is, then, I suppose. 

Jiang Cheng was frowning at him so hard at the dinner table it looked borderline painful. Wei Wuxian ate fast, but he soon slowed down: if they’re going to fly, and he suspected it was exactly why he was staring at an annoyed Jiang Cheng waiting for him now, it wouldn’t do him any good if he puked on his brother.

“How did you find me, Jiang Cheng?”

“As if there were multiple roads you could take,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “I’m surprised you managed to get so far. You look half-dead. What is even wrong with you?”

“I feel like you’re asking this only to scold me, but you don’t expect a real answer, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian whined loudly with his mouth full. Jiang Cheng only rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian knew one thing for sure: he will never be a fan of flying. He was right about that from the start. But there was nothing to be done: he tried walking, and failed miserably. 

If flying with Lan Zhan wasn’t that terrible, it was because, well. It was Lan Zhan.

Flying with Jiang Cheng was horrendous. It didn’t make it any better that he was also talking.

“I can’t believe you thought you could get to Gusu faster if you just disappeared,” he huffed loudly, making sure Wei Wuxian plastered to his back heard him. “You knew I would fly you!”

“Whatever,” Wei Wuxian was sulking to hide the fact that he was actually scared (although Jiang Cheng probably knew it already, this bastard). “Just don’t drop me, Jiang Cheng. I don’t think I can resurrect for the second time.”

It took a bit of maneuvering that made the sword shake a little (Wei Wuxian almost threw up), but Jiang Cheng succeeded in smacking him. 

“I’m serious! You could easily let me walk,” Wei Wuxian whined, loudly, because they were flying over that big lake now.

“And risk the wrath of Hanguang-jun? No, thank you. I personally saw him dismember the last person who dared to raise their hand at you. And I need my arm.”

Wei Wuxian smiled fondly against the circumstances. “He did that twice, actually.”

“What do you mean twice?"

Jiang Cheng’s sword wavered. 

“Jin Guangyao. Xue Yang.”

Silence.

“Yeaah. You are not walking to Gusu. I need both my arms.”

***

A few hours later they landed safe and sound at the top of the mountain, right in front of the gate to the Cloud Recesses.

“Oh, finally, I thought I was going to freeze. Jiang Cheng, would you carry me if I froze? I bet I’d be heavier.”

“You’d also be quiet. I think it’s a fair price.”

“Hey!”. Wei Wuxian smacked Jiang Cheng’s arm. They looked at each other.

Is this when we say something emotional? Are we going to apologise? Is there even anything that could be said? 

Do acceptable words for parting even exist? 

Wei Wuxian shook his head.

“Thank you for the invitation, Jiang Cheng. You did a great job with the festival. Shijie…”, Wei Wuxian looked for a warning on Jiang Cheng’s face before he could continue. He didn’t find any, so he did. “Shijie would like it very much, I believe.”

Jiang Cheng clenched his jaw and looked down. “Thanks. Yeah, well. Thank you for coming, I guess. Tell Hanguang-jun I say hi… or you know what. Don’t. Forget about it, actually.” Enough of getting friendly. 

“I most definitely will tell Lan Zhan you say hi, Jiang Cheng. Bye!”. Wei Wuxian grinned and patted his arm once more. He turned towards the gate.

“Wei Wuxian!”, he heard, and stilled. He looked behind his shoulder. Jiang Cheng looked mildly uncomfortable. 

“Do visit.”

Wei Wuxian smiled and nodded. “Do write.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jiang Cheng was gone. 

Wei Wuxian sighed and swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, anymore. He was just tired after the flight, and it was cold. 

“Senior Wei…?”

Hearing this voice made Wei Wuxian jump. It immediately brought a smile back to his face. 

He would start to feel comfortable in his own skin again, soon.

Chapter Text

“JINGYI!”, Wei Wuxian cried and walked up briskly to his own Lan Jingyi standing at the top of the stairs to the Cloud Recesses. 

“Shouting is forbidden! What are you making noise for, senior Wei!”

Jingyi's tone was scolding, but he was grinning so widely that all of his teeth were visible. His gaze fell on Wei Wuxian’s hair; his smile faltered. He took notice of the cut, too, but refrained from comments. 

Wei Wuxian felt like hugging the kid. He smacked his arm, instead. Jingyi scowled.

“Ouch! Has anyone ever told you that you’re stronger than you look?”

The boy was in his full whining mode now, rubbing his arm with a hurt look on his face, and Wei Wuxian could not help the giggle that left him.

“Perhaps a person or two. But tell me, Jingyi—” 

They began walking towards the main buildings of the Cloud Recesses; it felt so familiar. So familiar. 

“—How is life! How are the Lans? Were you terribly bored without me? How is Little Apple? Any new rules? Is Hanguang-jun finished for the day? Right! How is Lan Xi—Clan Leader Lan doing? Much annoyed, yet? Is he ready to resign from the post? Wait—has Clan Leader Yao left already? Please do not tell me he is still here. I sure hope Sizhui and Wen Ning are here, though? Also, were you waiting for me or is this just your impeccable timing, Jingyi? Because I might not come unnoticed this time, but I surely did not specify the time of my arrival! Tell me, have you missed your old senior Wei so much you actually camped at the gate to be the first one who greets me?” 

Jingyi looked like he regretted every choice he made in his short life. Wei Wuxian beamed, threw an arm over the boy’s shoulders, and went on.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jingyi. When it comes to Number One Wei Ying Fan you have a tough competition, yes, let me think…Hanguang-jun… Lan Wangji… Lan Zhan… Little Apple—”

“Alright, let me stop you right here, grandpa,” Jingyi scoffed. “Firstly, definitely not Little Apple. She is fine. She hates you guts. She was enjoying the peace and quiet. So were we. Do they, like, pay you for talking?”

Wei Wuxian made a hurt face, but then giggled. “If you think they should, Jingyi, you should come out with a proposal to the elders. I’m not sure how, uhm—” Lan Qiren. “—some of them are going to like it, though.”

Jingyi rolled his eyes in an almost affectionate way, but he ignored the comment.

“Secondly,” he carried on instead. “I was aware you were going to come back, but no, I did not wait for you. I’m on my way back from the stables. I was cleaning.”

Now that he thought of it, there was a peculiar smell coming from Jingyi, Wei Wuxian frowned. 

“Thirdly, you’re not even that old, senior Wei! Plus, my sincere apologies, but you were literally dead for a great deal of your life, so nobody even knows how to count that, to be honest.”

Oh wow. This boy really is blunt. Never change, Jingyi.

“And as for the rest...” 

They came to a halt in the dark, quiet yard. The last of activities and classes for the day just ended; a few disciples walked past them, greeting Wei Wuxian. Some glanced at his hair for a little longer, but politely ignored it. He heard someone’s hushed conversation about the class that just finished. 

Wei Wuxian missed the Cloud Recesses the way he had never missed it before. The way he never thought he would.

“...You can ask Hanguang-jun yourself, he should be here somewhere, his class just ended… Oh, there! Hi, Hanguang-jun!”

Wei Wuxian quickly turned to where a smiling Jingyi was pointing. Lan Zhan just walked out of one of the classrooms, holding a bunch of papers and his sword in one hand. He was talking to a young disciple, the boy’s head was hanging sadly, but he listened to Lan Zhan carefully and nodded. The talk was short; the boy bowed respectfully and left, and Lan Zhan finally turned to look in the direction where Jingyi and Wei Wuxian were standing.

He looked Wei Wuxian straight in the eyes, all worry and seriousness gone from his face. His gaze immediately warmed up.

Wei Wuxian just couldn’t care less at that point — damn the shock, the fear, the uproar he was inevitably going to evoke. He ran up to Lan Zhan, straight into his arms, and hugged his neck.

If any of the few disciples dispersed around the yard were shocked by their calm and collected Hanguang-jun hugging a man – hugging a haggard-looking Wei Wuxian – tightly in the middle of a sidewalk, no one was nosy enough to make their confusion known.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathed into Lan Zhan’s neck. “I missed you so much and you were gone for a couple of days only. You must never leave me again or I will disintegrate. Hi.”

Lan Zhan hugged him tighter with the one, unoccupied arm, and pressed his lips to Wei Wuxian’s temple. His words came out muffled. “I will not. I missed you too, Wei Ying. Hi.”

Wei Wuxian stepped back from him, but only enough to comfortably look at him. They were so close Lan Zhan must have felt the puffs of air coming out of his mouth. Lan Zhan focused his gaze on his face and immediately tensed when he spotted the cut. 

“Wei Yi—”

“Wei Ying!”

A piercing voice sounded behind them. They pulled apart quickly.

“Lan xiansheng.” Wei Wuxian turned and bowed deeply to an irritated Lan Qiren. He was ready to apologise for corrupting his nephew the first thing after his return. 

“Uncle.” Next to him Lan Zhan bowed politely, his face yet again an expressionless mask. 

Lan Qiren merely looked at him and fixed his gaze on Wei Wuxian. He looked displeased, but not completely mad. 

It can go both ways, then.

“So you are back,” he huffed. Wei Wuxian smiled and nodded politely. Lan Qiren looked him up and down. With a clever eye, he must have spotted the robes, barely rags now, his hair, and the cut, obviously. He wasn’t saying anything probably because the state of Wei Wuxian evoked too much pity; it would be against one rule or another to point it out. “I heard about your… Accident.”

Which one, Wei Wuxian felt like saying. He nodded instead.

“I must admit you have some peculiar luck, boy.” Lan Qiren said it in a very different way than Jiang Cheng would; his voice was far from worried, but it was closer to anxiety than anger. Wei Wuxian’s lips parted slightly. “Nevertheless, once again I am forced to ask you to stay out of trouble for the time you spend… here. Do not bring unnecessary problems and concern, Wei Ying.”

Lan Qiren shot Lan Zhan a look.

Was Lan Zhan worried about me? Oh, no. 

Wei Wuxian cleared his throat. “I will try my best. Thank you for your kind consideration,” he bowed his head.

Lan Qiren huffed at him; that felt normal. What he said next, didn’t.

“I also heard about your new inventions,” he said, and Wei Wuxian stood still. “About the voice message talisman. Wangji mentioned it during our weekly educational agenda review. He made it look like a very… Interesting advancement.”

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Zhan with wide eyes.

“You did? So it worked, Lan Zhan? How was it? Did you hear me good? We need to test it, I wasn’t sure about the specific pe—”

Lan Qiren cleared his throat. Lan Zhan looked down when he spoke.

“My apologies I haven’t told you earlier. I assume you did not get a chance to receive my letter.” Wei Wuxian shook his head. He left Yunmeng before it reached him. “It did work, and it worked well. I told uncle about it. I see a great purpose for it, once tested and ready. It is very handy, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian beamed at the praise. He wanted to kiss Lan Zhan. He briefly wondered if Lan Qiren would like this invention, too. 

He turned to found him frowning, instead.

“I must admit, albeit reluctantly—” Lan Qiren made a pause only to emphasise how reluctant he was to agree with anything that came from Wei Wuxian. “ —that it is a promising tool. Surprisingly so are many of your talismans, since they do not use resentful energy, as one could… Suspect.”

Wei Wuxian disregarded the last implication and furrowed his brows.

“Many of my… Lan Zhan? Have you been… keeping record? Of my silly little experiments? No way!”

Lan Zhan simply nodded. “I know you do not keep a book. I decided I would. There is a general problem about your legacy – some of your inventions are widespread and generally used by cultivators nowadays, but there are some discrepancies about the ownership. Obviously, that should not be the case. Due to this, a proper record needs to be maintained.”

If Wei Wuxian wanted to jump Lan Zhan’s bones a minute ago, now he wanted it more than everything in the world, and fuck it if it would mean Lan Qiren kicking him out of the Cloud Recesses with a permanent ban. He was just so irrevocably in l—

“Wei gongzi,” Lan Xichen’s mellow voice saved him from further embarrassment. He only managed to cast Lan Zhan a look he hoped portrayed everything words didn’t. Couldn’t. 

Lan Xichen appeared out of nowhere to stand beside his uncle, who looked unhappier than a moment ago, which was a lot of unhappiness for one man. 

“Please forgive me for interrupting, but I happen to know of the topic as well. Wangji showed me some of gongzi’s works while I was still in seclusion. I must admit, it is very good, clever work.”

It suddenly hit Wei Wuxian how much he actually liked Lan Xichen. He always thought that he was one of the finest cultivators walking the earth, of course. He never felt anything short of respect towards him, but at that moment, he also registered that he simply liked Zewu-jun. Wei Wuxian understood Lan Zhan’s devotion and support of his brother. He understood it even better now.

He still wondered why Lan Xichen decided to tell him their parents' story that one, hazy evening in front of the Jingshi.

“Your Excellency,” he bowed with a sincere smile on his face. The title felt a bit off. Lan Xichen smiled back at him. He looked better, Wei Wuxian thought. Well-rested, and well-fed. “It is an honour to hear such pleasant feedback from you, but I must disagree – these are barely some tricks to make life easier. Nothing groundbreaking, really! Nevertheless, thank you for the kind words.”

“Nonsense”, said both Lan Qiren, and… Lan Zhan? 

“Small things and everyday advancements can be groundbreaking, too. It is the size of the impact, not the tool.” Lan Zhan’s voice was soft, but confident.

“Tricks is an unfortunate word to encapsulate the meaning the inventions hold, Wei Ying. It would be arrogant to call them like that, implying everyone can master their creation and implementation, knowing very well how powerful of a cultivator one must be in fact.” Lan Qiren’s voice was far from soft, it was scornful — but still, his words were kind of a praise. 

Wei Wuxian started feeling more dizzy than he already was. He bowed again, speechless.

“Wei gongzi.” When Lan Xichen spoke, he was at his side, with concern on his face. “You sure do look tired. Please get rest — Wangji, I trust Wei gongzi is going to stay in the Jingshi?” A nod from Lan Zhan. A huff from Lan Qiren. “Good. Wei gongzi — please rest, and we can talk about the important things some other day, if you wish. I am glad you are back in the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian smiled at each other one last time, and then both Lan Zhan’s uncle and brother left. When Wei Wuxian turned to check if Jingyi was still around somewhere, he didn’t see the boy.

“Jingyi left well before brother arrived. I thanked him for letting you in and dismissed him.”

Lan Zhan, like always, was reading his mind. He grinned at him. 

“Good. I hope you told him to get a bath, though.”

Lan Zhan exhaled loudly, which was basically a laugh. “I did. Let us get dinner, now. Come, Wei Ying.”

Arm to arm, they marched to the Jingshi. 

***

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan asked once when Wei Wuxian stopped babbling about how good it is to be back even if Gusu is so damn cold and there is no pork soup here. “How are you feeling?”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, you need to quit asking me that!”, Wei Wuxian winced.

“Apologies. You just look tired.”

Wei Wuxian was still sulking. “I feel like I’ve been looking tired and sick for years now, I got used to it! Nobody ever tells me I look good anymore, Lan Zhan, everyone just points out that I look deadly.” He knew he was full-on whining right now, and that the joke was borderline acceptable by Lan Zhan, so he just pouted and crossed his arms. 

He also knew he wasn’t telling the truth: someone did tell him he looked good recently. But on this he could not fixate—

“You look good and tired, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighed.

That was it. Wei Wuxian was a second away from turning his back on Lan Zhan to go get his uncle and make Lan Qiren ban him from the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian had enough. Either he leaves, or Lan Zhan shuts his mouth, because the sound that left Wei Wuxian’s mouth was not only embarrassing, but also weak. He opened his mouth to start screaming—

Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“Hanguang-jun! Senior Wei!”

There was an excited voice behind them and two pairs of feet walking up to them exceptionally briskly (no running allowed).

“Sizhui! Wen Ning!”

Wei Wuxian turned towards the voice and beamed. He blessed Sizhui for his timing. Sizhui and Wen Ning halted in front of them and bowed. The excitement in Sizhui’s movements was unmistakable. He hurriedly straightened up to look Wei Wuxian in the face.

“Senior Wei! We just met Jingyi, he told us you’re back! How are you? Is everything all right? How was Yunmeng?”

He was talking so fast he probably broke three different Lan rules. Wen Ning stood next to him quietly, his boyish, timeless face calm and happy as ever.

“If you’re going to ask me if I feel good I might start feeling worse just out of spite,” Wei Wuxian grimaced. He heard Lan Zhan sigh, again. “I’m good! Nevermind me, how are you, Sizhui? Wen Ning? Where have you been? How are things? Anything interesting? Curious? Uncanny? Nerve-wracking?”

Sizhui smiled at him. He looked fine, Wei Wuxian thought. They both did, which was a relief.

“Nothing of remarkable importance, I believe. As we’ve already told Hanguang-jun,” he smiled in Lan Zhan’s direction, “we kept mostly to the west of Qishan and to the mountains there. Some interesting cases in the highest areas, cave spirits mostly, some corpses, as to be expected. A dragon spirit.” We Wuxian’s mouth fell open. A dragon! He didn’t get those. He was so jealous. “One curse-turned-to-be-possession in Pingyang recently. Some water spirits on the way to Gusu.” 

“You have been busy, Sizhui!”, Wei Wuxian whistled and patted the boy’s arm. He looked proud of himself, as he should. “What about you, Wen Ning? Hasn’t travelling gotten too tedious for you?”

“Gongzi,” Wen Ning bowed politely. “I don’t think it will ever get tedious. And I have had great company. It was a very interesting journey. It was good to visit the areas I once knew.”

Oh, right. Qishan. I hope it wasn’t very cruel on you, Wen Ning.

“I’m glad you both had fun!”, Wei Wuxian beamed at them, and immediately cleared his throat. “And that you came back safely, of course. Sizhui, now go and be a good Lan, and don’t make Hanguang-jun worry more or he’ll get wrinkles, and we wouldn’t want that.”

Sizhui’s smile got wider, but both he and Wen Ning looked down, slightly embarrassed.

“Sizhui, it is getting late. You both can talk to Wei Ying tomorrow or another day. I’m sure he would like to hear more,” Lan Zhan added.

“Absolutely! You better tell me about this dragon, I won’t let you live.”

Wen Ning bowed and excused himself, saying he better leave for Caiyi shortly, and that he will visit to finish the story during the next few days (“You’d better visit us in the Jingshi, Wen Ning!”, Wei Wuxian screamed after him confidently, as if it was his home he was inviting Wen Ning to.)

Sizhui, too, bowed goodbye, but as they turned to leave, he called after them.

“Ah, senior Wei! Apologies, I forgot to thank you and Hanguang-jun.” When Wei Wuxian furrowed his brows, Sizhui smiled. “For the Yunmeng sweets. I liked them a lot, thank you. Jingyi loved them a bit too much.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Ah, no need to thank me, it’s not my money anyway! All that’s good is thanks to Hanguang-jun.”

Sizhui shot Hanguang-jun a half-shy, half-amused look, and went his way. 

“Love the kid.” They reached the Jingshi soon enough.

“Mn.”  

“Lan Zhan. Did he grow or did I get smaller?”

Wei Wuxian stopped in front of the entrance to kick off his shoes hurriedly.

“He grew indeed.” Lan Zhan entered the Jingshi and hung his outermost robe on a hanger; he reached for Wei Wuxian’s, who handed him the robe absentmindedly.  

“Terrible. You tall people! Outrageous.”

It was pleasantly warm inside when Wei Wuxian paced around the house -– to leave his bag, to burn the incense, to help Lan Zhan take the damn thing off his hair, to carefully place it on the table, to wash his hands and face.

“You aren’t short yourself, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan placed Bichen in the sword stand and helped Wei Wuxian relocate his lost comb (it was on Lan Zhan’s bedside table); he made tea, he got the Emperor’s Smile out of the cabinet, he lit more candles. 

They moved around each other so swiftly it looked like they were caught up in a fight. Or a dance, never missing a step. Never missing the beat.

“But you’re taller than me. It’s okay, though, I can live with that.” 

I like it that you are.

Almost at the same time, they sat down at the low table. Wei Wuxian poured Lan Zhan a cup of tea and tasted it: although he never voiced it, Wei Wuxian knew he liked it better when it was hot. It burnt his lip; acceptable. He handed the cup to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan poured Wei Wuxian a cup of liquor. He did not taste it, but he took out the Yunmeng honey cake out of nowhere and placed it on a delicate plate matching the liquor cup. He pushed both in Wei Wuxian’s direction and licked the honey off the tip of his finger.

Wei Wuxian’s smile was a constant when he was around Lan Zhan, so he could only make it known with his eyes how much appreciated this all was. 

They fell into silence. 

And then—

“Lan Zhan, look. It’s snowing.”

With both their cups empty and abandoned on the table, they walked up to the sliding door and peeked outside. 

It most definitely was snowing. The first snowflakes were falling steadily, soon to make the Cloud Recesses an ice kingdom. The temperature fell quite visibly. Their breaths were coming out as puffs of air. 

Wei Wuxian laughed breathlessly and looked at Lan Zhan. 

His eyes were glimmering. He was so mesmerising that Wei Wuxian forgot what he wanted to say, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact. He closed his eyes to preserve this image forever; save it for later to replay it in his head. He knew he would.

Lan Zhan did not forget what he wanted to say.

“Wei Ying.” His tone was low, so low it didn’t make Wei Wuxian open his eyes just yet. It would feel wrong to talk loudly with the soft snow falling down around them, muting everything. It would feel equally wrong rapidly changing his position, or opening his eyes. Let it fall, let it rain. “The cut on your face. What happened?”

“Ah!”, Wei Wuxian exclaimed, voice small. Only now did his eyes open. He reached to his face, his hand met with Lan Zhan’s halfway. Locking eyes, Lan Zhan guided his hand and they placed both of their palms on Wei Wuxian’s cheek, fingers grazing the cut. Wei Wuxian gulped.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s actually Jiang Cheng’s fault!”, he whined, and regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened and his grip on Wei Wuxian’s cheek tightened. “Jiang Wanyin did this?”

“What? No!” Wei Wuxian panicked, shaking his head. “No, no, Lan Zhan, a bottle exploded! I mean, I squeezed a bottle of liquor too hard. And it shattered to pieces!”

“What does Jiang Wanyin have to do with it, then?”, Lan Zhan didn’t look convinced, but his touch was gentle again. He did not take or move his hand. He caressed the skin around the cut with his thumb.

“Nothing! I wasn’t thinking when I said that; he only handed me the bottle.” Wei Wuxian’s other hand was on Lan Zhan’s elbow, trying to convince him it was just a mistake; trying to comfort him, and wipe the line between his brows. 

It helped. Lan Zhan exhaled. “Did you have it checked? It doesn’t look infected, but you should go to the healer.”

If I had a core you wouldn’t even know of it, because it would have already healed. It is literally just a cut. I’ve had worse. I have worse. 

He shook his head again. “Nope. I’ll go tomorrow just to be sure, okay?”, he added quickly, taking in Lan Zhan’s expression. Lan Zhan nodded.

This exact moment, a servant with their dinner appeared. They separated and Lan Zhan shut the door to the terrace. 

Funny. I didn’t even feel the cold coming in.

***

After dinner, Wei Wuxian decided it was time to talk business. He needed to focus on something concrete, feasible, and boring – he needed his brain to stop buzzing and start working properly. 

“Okay, tell me now, Lan Zhan.” They remained at the table. He made Lan Zhan fresh tea. “What did Clan Leader Yao want? Was it worth leaving me in Yunmeng with a rampant Jiang Cheng, hm? Do you know how bored I was? I was made to help the juniors with calligraphy! Me, Lan Zhan! You’re probably the only person who can decipher my calligraphy!”

Lan Zhan knew, of course, that he was exaggerating and making up facts just to dramatise his account. Obviously. That’s Wei Wuxian, for you. So, he either decided to play along or seriously contemplated it beforehand, because what he immediately replied was, “It certainly was not worth it.”

“I can’t imagine how bad it must’ve been to bore you, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian winced. “You have the patience of a saint. Clan Leader Yao should get some kind of an award.”

Lan Zhan didn’t look amused. “He wasn’t boring. He was ludicrous, possibly overestimating his own involvement and importance in this issue.”

Oh, this was way worse. Wei Wuxian shot him a curious look. “What kind of issue is it that requires contacting three clans – no, four, including the Yao Sect – and two different Chief Cultivators, demanding both of them to be present, before one starts even talking?”

“A curse,” Lan Zhan exhaled loudly. Wei Wuxian spit some of the liquor he was just about to drink.

“He couldn’t handle a curse on his own?! What, is the curse forbidding him from it?”

“No.” Lan Zhan took a sip of his tea. “This is actually the interesting part. The curse is already gone. It has been lifted.”

“Well, who got rid of it, then?”

“No one did.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows furrowed even more. This definitely was the interesting part, he thought. “Please tell me all of the story, Lan Zhan. It makes even less sense now than before.”

Lan Zhan nodded and inhaled before he began:

“Some time ago a few Yao disciples were on a night hunt in south Qinghe. According to Clan Leader Yao, while fighting a phoenix spirit, they disturbed an ancient ancestral tomb of a Nie clan gentry family. They were attacked by walking corpses, but they fought them and returned to Pingyang instantly.”

“Not again.” Wei Wuxian winced and exhaled loudly. “Not another Nie ancestral tomb.”

“Yes, another one. Only this time all of the disciples involved were cursed.”

“Oh! Now we’re talking!”, Wei Wuxian beamed. “They’re alive, I assume? You didn’t mean that the curse killed them when you said that it was already gone?”

Lan Zhan shook his head. “No, they are all well. The curse…It seems it has gone away on its own.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, let me guess.” Wei Wuxian missed talks like this one. They used to do this a lot. “The curse was ridiculous and lasted no more than a few days. Caused no big trouble, too.”

“Precisely,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What gave it away to you?”

“Easy,” Wei Wuxian raised one finger. “One. Old ass curse. All ancestral tombs in Qinghe, especially in the south, are ancient, and everybody knows better than to bother whatever is inside. They are well-preserved, never having been touched by the wars due to the unique location. Two,” he raised a second finger. “Everyone also knows that it is the sword ancestral halls that need to be feared when it comes to the Nie clan. They’re trickier and should be treated seriously. We’ve been there, have we not, Lan Zhan? It was quite complex, the issue then. But a standard ancestral hall could not hold a curse very malignant in this case. Pretty counter-intuitive!” Lan Zhan nodded. Wei Wuxian smiled apologetically and raised third finger. “Three. No offence to the Yao Clan and its disciples, but they’re masters of arts. I have to give them that. Meaning, they are not extremely skilled at night hunts, and you mentioned that they fought the corpses on their own and returned to Pingyang. It can only mean that they were some superb Yao disciples, or that the corpses were… well. Less threatening and spiteful as we know them. Which, again, points to a curse that is not only very strong, but also not life-threatening. You said it already lifted on its own, so I’m guessing what the cursed disciples experienced was more embarrassing than scary, and now I just wonder how it all went down.”

Lan Zhan looked at him approvingly from above his cup. He looked less sullen. “You are right, Wei Ying. About all but one thing.”

“Oh?”

“The Yao disciples were frightened about the curse, and so was Clan Leader Yao.”

Wei Wuxian nodded in understanding. “Right. I assume I was too forward with my assumption, my apologies. Curses, possessions, spirit-catching, spirit-snatching… This is daily life to us. Especially us, I guess. I do not blame the Yao disciples for being afraid. I would be too, if it had been something new to me. They enjoy their peaceful lives, as they should. Pingyang is a remote and quite secluded location, they never had to deal with the big and the explosive cultivation world here. I never thought of it until I actually visited the faraway clans… They care about different things than we do. And you know what, good for them.”

Lan Zhan smiled at him with his eyes. Wei Wuxian knew this look very well. It was an equivalent of praise. 

“What gave it away to you, Lan Zhan?” 

“Clan Leader Yao looked too uneasy about this. He knew he needed help, but he is too prideful and arrogant of a person. When this happened, the disciples were taken care of by their healer, to no avail. The symptoms of the curse were different for each, so it was incredibly difficult to even ensure that all of them were cursed in the first place. They were affected randomly.”

“What do you mean, randomly? Have not only the onset, but the symptoms, too, been irregular?” 

“Yes.” Lan Zhan nodded, pensieve. “It was stretched in time, as well. The first two or three disciples were hit instantly. One of them could not stop singing very loudly whenever he wanted to speak, but only when he wanted to speak to his wife. One was hit with a language curse. He could only talk in a foreign language for five days. The other disciples were affected as late as a few days later, already home. Two had similar symptoms — they, hm. Expressed romantic interest in each other.”

Wei Wuxian laughed and poured himself more of the Emperor’s Smile. “Aiya, why the fuss! Is this such a big problem?”, he teased.

“It would not be a problem at all,” Lan Zhan said, and Wei Wuxian hid his face in the cup. “If one of them wasn’t the Clan Leader’s nephew, and the other his nephew from another son.”

Wei Wuxian paled. “Oh. Okay, this definitely was a problem, then. Good thing this lunacy is of the past now. What do you make of this, Lan Zhan? Of this curse?”

“As you said, it was an old one. It was only released because the ancestral hall was disturbed. Most probably it was originally casted a few, if not a dozen decades ago. For curses like this not only place, but also time matters. The bigger the distance between the one who casts the curse, the worse the effects. In this case, it was a collective curse, most likely a clan-bound one, since it affected only the Yao disciples after they fought the corpses from the tomb. There were no sightings of walking corpses outside Qinghe at that time, it has been checked and confirmed. I double-checked it myself.” If Lan Zhan double-checked something himself, it not only meant that he cared about the case, but it also meant that there was less than zero percent chance that he was wrong. “Similarly, the more time passes since the curse was casted, the weaker and more distorted the effects will be. Thus the… mishaps. In a few years, this curse would probably not affect anybody, or affect them only slightly. The Yao disciples were unlucky enough to go through this.”

Lan Zhan so, so rarely talked long like this. Usually when he was expected to explain something. Or sometimes when he had the time and was in the right mood. Never with anyone outside his people worth talking to list. It wasn’t a long list. Wei Wuxian, however, prized himself to be on top of it. He could listen to Lan Zhan for hours on end and it would never get boring, because Lan Zhan never was boring. 

Kiss me, Wei Wuxian almost said with his own, personal mouth, after Lan Zhan was finished with the explanation. And he was talking about a damn curse, and people getting hurt. 

Get up, Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying? Was anything I said incorrect?”

Wei Wuxian realised he had been staring at Lan Zhan with a dumbfounded expression. He didn’t reply to him.

“Ah, no, no! I’m sorry, Lan Zhan, it’s just, ah, this is a very interesting case, after all! Not that boring, no.”

Lan Zhan looked at him quizzically. “I see. As you can hear, the curse itself was not a big problem. Clan Leader Yao’s attitude was.”

“This guy, honestly! But you’re right, why would he even need to meet you in person? Wait, why would he need to meet anybody at all? You said the curse was lifted after literal days!”

“What Clan Leader Yao wanted was help in finding out whether the curse hasn’t left any permanent remnants. As you said, the Yao Clan excels in arts; he wished that somebody skilled would come to Pingyang and check, as he lacked the resources.”

“Let me guess, again.” Wei Wuxian sighed heavily. “He was too proud to let anybody but his own Clan know what really happened. So when he first arrived in Qinghe, Nie Huaisang didn’t help him, because this time he really did not know what was going on, even though it happened right under his nose. And Clan Leader Yao provided no real explanation, of course.”

Lan Zhan only hummed.

“And when he arrived in Yunmeng, Jiang Cheng did not understand a single word he said, because, well, why would he? Clan Leader Yao probably told him he had been in grave danger, but wouldn't specify what danger it was, so Jiang Cheng assumed it was not that grave of a danger after all. He did help him, though. Perhaps not directly, and much later than Clan Leader Yao would want, but still… Remember how he mentioned that our guest chambers were unavailable because someone messed up their Spirit-Luring Flags? He said it happened when the disciples left for a night hunt with the Yao Clan!”, Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Jiang Cheng probably sent them to investigate, even though he knew nothing of the curse. And most likely, his disciples returned to the Lotus Pier no smarter, too. I can imagine the Yaos being secretive like that.” 

Lan Zhan nodded in silent agreement.

“And the fourteen letters he sent to you… I read them, Lan Zhan. They sounded like he was trying to hit a certain word count without having anything to say at all.”

“The Yao sect really are masters of arts, especially literature,” Lan Zhan murmured. Wei Wuxian couldn't help his laughter. He reached and took Lan Zhan’s hand into his. He received a glance in return.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, do not beat yourself up! Nobody could guess from his little novels that he really needs some help. I assume you sent some disciples to Pingyang to perform the Inquiry and check on the affected right after he left, have you not?”

“How did you know, Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan looked at him with big eyes and laced their fingers together on the table. 

Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure when holding hands casually like this became a new normal for them. He figured that he never wants it to stop. He didn’t even like holding hands that much, or so he thought.

“Come on, Lan Zhan, how long have I known you?” He laughed and squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand, keeping his gaze. “You jump at the first opportunity to help anyone who needs it, and especially after you find out that the help is overdue, which is false in this case, by the way. You did the right thing. Clan Leader Yao for sure sleeps soundly, now.”

For a long moment they just sat like that, looking at each other, fingers laced on the table. Lan Zhan was finishing up his tea. Wei Wuxian was long finished with his Emperor’s Smile. Now, he was preoccupied with simple men's activities: observing Lan Zhan. Blinking at him, teasingly. Left eye, right eye. He made faces at him, because why not. He stole some of his tea, snatching it right from his hand. He played with the hand he was holding. He guided it to his cheek and placed it there, only to be able to feel this weird, amazing sensation one more time. 

It made Lan Zhan slump over the table slightly, but he didn’t complain. He just rested his hand more comfortably on Wei Wuxian’s cold cheek and used his other hand to hold the cup. His thumb mindlessly traced along the cut, again. 

Wei Wuxian quitted teasing him. He leaned into the warmth of his hand, pressing it harder to his cheek. He closed his eyes and absentmindedly kissed Lan Zhan’s palm, his thoughts wandering.

He knew what he was doing. 

He drank too little to blame it on the alcohol. Lan Zhan wasn’t drinking at all. They never spoke of the borders they slowly began crossing, but then — were they? 

He didn’t know what he was doing. 

He was lost. Lan Zhan seemed unbothered, but — was he, really? 

What he did know was that what they were doing was wrong. What he was doing was wrong.

He knew Jiang Cheng was right. He knew it all, now. One sleepless night in Yumeng or another, or maybe earlier. Maybe the first night he appeared unannounced in the Cloud Recesses all those weeks ago. 

And what he knew was his to have. There was no force in this universe that would make him speak up. Not a single thing that would make him tell Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan, I’m back. I’m back, and I’m a liar. I lost. I said so much, I said too much, and it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry for disappointing you. Your plan was good, they’re always good. I’m not.

He was just so, so scared. He didn’t overcome his fear of dogs. He surely didn’t overcome his fear of flying. And he will most likely never overcome his fear of losing Lan Zhan.

He was so confused he felt like screaming. He was also comfortably numb enough to think that if he died that moment, it would all be worth it.

The only thing he could do was try, just try his best not to overstep, not to slip, and try to constantly gauge Lan Zhan’s moods, his emotions, and to control the situation. Because Wei Wuxian knew that the moment he lost control, it would be over. Not even Lan Zhan telling him that their dreams align, that he wants to accompany him, that they belong together – none of this would suffice if he lost control.

Because he knew Lan Zhan meant it all, he knew he was being sincere. But he also knew that Lan Zhan meant it all in this one, particular, peculiar context they were wrapped in. The context that did not include having Wei Wuxian kiss him. Touch him in a not so friendly way with not so friendly thoughts.

And the thoughts were slowly but steadily becoming overwhelming to have. 

Wei Wuxian was freezing cold and shivering.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s soft voice came to him like he was speaking from a great distance. “You’re shaking. Are you just cold or is something wrong?”

He didn’t notice when Lan Zhan rose to his feet to light more candles. The Jingshi was well-lit when he opened his eyes. Hid didn’t register closing them. 

Lan Zhan was pacing around the Jingshi, looking for something.

“Ah, no, I’m just a bit cold, don’t worry.” Wei Wuxian’s voice came back to him. “Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan was standing a few steps from the table and motioned at him to come. Hesitantly and on shaking legs, Wei Wuxian did. 

“Here.” Lan Zhan handed him a big package. It looked soft, and it looked expensive. He held it in both arms. 

“Lan Zhan,” he started. “What is this?”

“Open up. This is for you, Wei Ying.”

“But what…”

Lan Zhan tucked the package into his arms and took a step back, so he wouldn’t give it back. Wei Wuxian, perplexed, forgot about his quick mental breakdown and opened the bundle. He was too curious of a person to wait.

It was robes. 

It was a full set of robes, undergarments, and Wei Wuxian thought he also spotted a belt, and shoes. Silently, he unpacked it, one by one.

There were two pairs of black robes with red elements. A dark grey one. Black and red inner robes. A dark leather belt. Multiple white and black pants. Black inner robes with a turtleneck. Deep blue robes with white elements and clouds pattern. A matching white inner robe. Black-and-white robes. White, silk inner robes to match. White shoes. Black shoes.

Wei Wuxian did not have to try any of these on, because he knew it was perfectly fitted.

“Lan Zhan,” he croaked out in disbelief. “What the—? I can’t have this. I can’t keep this.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was close, right at his side. “Your robes are significantly worn-out. Barely usable, now. And the winters in Gusu are cold. Here—”

Before Wei Wuxian could protest, he was handed another package. 

It contained one thing only – a black-and-white coat with fur at the collar. 

The winters are cold. You don’t have to.

What the fuck, Lan Zhan. He most probably said it out loud.

“I just want you to be warm.”

Lan Zhan said like it was the simplest thing ever, but when Wei Wuxian looked at his face, there was worry. His eyes were huge and expectant. His mouth slightly parted. He looked attentively at him, waiting for his response. 

Do you like it, he seemed to want to ask. 

Wei Wuxian couldn’t do much more than throw the coat on the nearest bed and then throw himself at Lan Zhan. Partially because he didn’t even know what to say. Partially because he would start weeping if Lan Zhan didn’t hold him this instant.

And Lan Zhan did. He squeezed his waist so hard that Wei Wuxian’s feet were off the ground.

“Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan,” his voice muffled by the hair in his mouth, he tried to sound stable. His voice was not shaking. “Lan Zhan. How did you—When did you even order those? How did you get the measurements? How is this— Lan Zhan. Are you insane ? It must have cost a fortune!”

Lan Zhan caressed his back, and replied. “I don’t care. I don’t spend my money on anything else. And I wanted to spend it on you.” Wei Wuxian gulped. He burrowed his face in Lan Zhan’s neck. “I guessed the measurements, you will have to try them on and see whether I was right. But I think I was. I ordered them right after you arrived the first time, apologies it took so much time. You must have been freezing in… This.”

This time, Wei Wuxian let out a wet laughter. “The flying glass made a hole so big you could probably punch your whole fist through it.”

“Mn. Do not tell me such things.”

Lan Zhan. How are you so perfect? It’s unfair. It’s cruel.

It’s not for me to have.

“I don’t even know what to say, Lan Zhan. I know no words can really measure up, but… Thank you.”

They separated. Lan Zhan looked pleased. He smiled at him when he said, “No need to thank me. Just dress warmly. I dislike seeing you cold.”

Wei Wuxian tried to hide his face while snatching up the clothes and the robe to carry them over to where his other things were. “Ah, Hanguang-jun, I’m never cold when I’m with you!”

Before he could think better, Lan Zhan replied quietly, “But you are not always with me.”

Oh.

“I—Well! I am now!”, Wei Wuxian tried to play it cool, but when he returned to Lan Zhan standing idly in the middle of the Jingshi, his smile dropped. Lan Zhan was looking at him seriously. 

“Wei Ying,” he said. “You know what I meant.”

Please tell me what you mean, Lan Zhan. Please tell me we mean the same thing, even though I know it is impossible. 

The words left him without his consent. They seemed to do that a lot lately.

“I… remember what you asked me that night in the Lotus Pier, Lan Zhan. And that I never told you.” 

And that not having told you made me feel even worse.  

“Tell me now, then.” 

Wei Wuxian huffed. Why do the tears that threaten to spill always do so in the worst moment?

“Okay, so. Um. You know”, he said, trying to sound composed. “Without the core—it is difficult to maintain your body temperature, right. Nobody ever talks about that. It’s really fucking difficult.”

A moment of silence. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, his tone low. “How did you survive the Burial Mounds?”

“Barely. I mean it. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to hear it. But it’s the truth. How absurd is that? The greatest cultivator. The most demonic of them all. Defeated by the rain, the snow, and some resentful spirits.”

Lan Zhan was suddenly in front of him, his hand on his face. 

“You are right, I don’t like to hear it. But I need to know.”

“It was always so cold there, Lan Zhan. So unnaturally cold. Because of the spirits and the resentful energy, the cold really wasn’t natural, it never happens this way anywhere else. Nowhere. I never want to get near a place that cold, ever again. You know,” Wei Wuxian croaked out. He couldn’t meet Lan Zhan’s eye when he added, against his will, “I sometimes feel like I never left. Like I was still there.” 

Stupid. This is all just so stupid. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was pained. He was right, he did not like hearing it. He hugged Wei Wuxian again, their not-so-newly discovered communication style. A love language. 

Wei Wuxian had no complaints. 

“You’re here. You left.” You are here, and you are here with me. What was, is over. What wasn’t, becomes. Because you are not there; he knew what Lan Zhan meant.

For the second time this evening, they just remained in silence, letting their breaths sync.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered. “Thank you. I know you’re going to say that there is no need, but allow me this one time, okay? Thank you.” He felt Lan Zhan nod. He pressed his lips to Lan Zhan’s arm, where his face was.

Unexpectedly, Lan Zhan said, “The things that happened to you... I wish they hadn’t. This is all.”

Wei Wuxian squeezed Lan Zhan one more time and tried to laugh. They parted.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, what things! Nothing bad happens to me when you’re with me,” he sulked. He failed at making the atmosphere peaceful again.

“Not true,” Lan Zhan frowned. “Especially the past few weeks, there have been… strange things happening to you. And I couldn’t stop a single one.”

“You are not obliged to stop anything, Lan Zhan, especially if it’s impossible… What things, anyway? I’m fine!”

Lan Zhan looked exasperated. “Wei Ying. In a span of a few weeks you passed out, twice, had people slander you, had an argument with your brother, twice, caught on fire, burnt your hair, burnt your robes, a bottle exploded in your hand and it cut your face, then you had a nosebleed, and then you passed out, again. Healing music barely helps you. You look deadly, your strength is lacking, so is your spiritual energy; you lost weight, you constantly look exhausted. You slur your words when you’re too tired and you lose track of your thoughts, sometimes.”

Okay. One is not like the others.

“Ah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian whined. “Come on, it is not that bad. You make it sound like I was cursed!”

A moment of silence. 

And another, heavier one, the meaning sinking in slowly.

They were staring at each other in complete understanding.

“Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan. I AM cursed.”

Chapter Text

“So,” Jingyi’s voice was a mixture of fear, exasperation, and amusement. “You got yourself cursed. Again.”

“I have never been cursed in my life!”, Wei Wuxian pointed an accusatory finger at the boy. Jingyi mirrored him. Sizhui shot them a worried glance and lowered Jingyi’s arm, looking at Wei Wuxian.

“With all due respect, senior Wei,” he said politely. “This is not entirely true.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him with wide eyes, betrayal on his face. After a second, he just sighed. “Fine. I got cursed again.”

“This time it is different,” Lan Zhan remarked. “It is an entirely different curse. We must focus. And for you two, it is great practice. Pay attention.”

Sizhui and Jingyi nodded their heads, almost solemnly. Wei Wuxian just took his head in his hands in a dramatic gesture. 

How did we end up like this?

The four of them were sitting in a small, private study adjacent to the Library Pavillon. He and Lan Zhan gathered Jingyi and Sizhui there after a short discussion at the breakfast, during which they both agreed that it couldn’t hurt to have some help with solving this hindrance, in Wei Wuxian’s words. Lan Zhan gave the juniors a brief summary of the issue that the Yao Clan encountered, and then told them that Wei Wuxian had been met with a problem of his own, namely – another curse.

As expected, Jingyi and Sizhui enthusiastically agreed to help.

They were both the perfect choice: skilled, knowledgeable, and reliable. Sizhui, because of his impeccable manners, formal and field knowledge, and experience. Jingyi was a surprising choice only at the first glance: they didn’t choose him solely because he wouldn’t leave Sizhui to have all the fun by himself, now that he was back in the Cloud Recesses. The boy had something Wei Wuxian described as an insane memory; to many of his teachers’ displeasure, he was top of the class with little to no effort. He could easily remember facts and dates faster than all of them – a feature that was of crucial importance while working on time-and-location dependent curses. 

They made a great team, Wei Wuxian thought, and the thought turned bitter. 

If only they could practise something more fun. If only they could prove how good of a team they were in a different setting. 

“So,” Jingyi started again, “I guess we all agree that it’s a separate case, although it seems like whoever cursed senior Wei jumped at the occasion and tried to make it look like an adjacent to the curse that hit the Yao disciples…if only it made any sense, since senior Wei is neither a Yao nor had he even been in Qinghe in the past months. Whoever the caster is, they're probably not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Jingyi.”

“Apologies, Hanguang-jun. Anyway, to sum it up... Senior Wei was cursed at a still unspecified time and in unknown location by an unknown person or persons, although we can probably also agree that it was the Yaos, since no one but their clan knew about the Qinghe curse at all, courtesy of Clan Leader Yao stubbornness and arrogance.”

Lan Zhan didn’t scold him this time, only nodded his head. Sizhui was listening attentively, his eyes following the notes he made. 

“The argument that the caster was most likely a Yao is supported by the fact that even if senior Wei hadn’t been in Qinghe, he was in Pingyang. So, in the Yao territory.” Jingyi continued the pretty impressive summary without missing a beat. “That is, he recalls being there. If his memory is not failing him, and, surprisingly to us all, it most likely isn’t—”

“Hey!”

“ —because it appears he was hit with some kind of a truth curse, which temporarily improves the memory of the cursed. So, that would would check out. Oh, right – it all checks out, because he had not only been to Pingyang, but he also remembers fighting a grey-clad corpse somewhere there, perhaps, who would pay attention, to quote senior Wei himself. So, it seems that his curse is identical in this respect to the curse that the Yao disciples were hit with, that is — fighting corpses is how it all starts in the first place. This means that the time and location are vague, but not completely unknown. Have I missed anything, Hanguang-jun?”

(“You did not tell me about fighting any corpses when you gave me an account of your travels, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sulked at him last night, looking pretty sullen. “You’re right, I did not. It was probably one of the reasons I felt like shit later that evening.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “You could’ve told me.” “I know. I’m sorry. This will probably happen again, so… I’m sorry.” “No need, Wei Ying. I’m glad you are being more candid now. Please be.”)

(Haven’t I already told you already to be careful what you wish for, Hanguang-jun?)

Lan Zhan looked too tired for this time of the day. It was barely midday.

Needless to say, they didn’t get much sleep. After the great realisation that fuck did he get cursed again, Wei Wuxian went through a sped-up recollection of the events of the past weeks, sharing his thoughts and remarks with Lan Zhan as he went, because: one, retelling a problem to Lan Zhan was always his first step in solving it; two, well. Talking was his thing now, wasn’t it?

They didn’t need much time to arrive at a conclusion that he was hit with some kind of a truth curse, as Jingyi tidily put it. 

(“I should have known it wasn’t a good sign when I woke up one morning and decided to spill my guts, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whined. “Are you sure it happened like this, then? You woke up cursed?” “What? No! I’m just saying that it sucks! And that it makes sense, you know. We should have known the day you pointed out that I had been awfully talkative. It should have rang a bell, or two.” “I just assumed that you wanted to. That you decided to.” “Wanted to do what?” “Talk to me.” “Oh, Lan Zhan. I want to talk to you, cursed or not. It has just been so… Weird, now that I think of it. But I don’t regret a single thing I said, okay? I don’t regret telling you anything.” I might, soon. But I don’t, yet. “Alright. I am glad, Wei Ying.” “Let’s get me uncursed, then, so I have nothing to blame my blabbering on!”)

“No. Very well.” Lan Zhan nodded his head and Jingyi beamed. “But for one thing. This is not a truth curse in its original meaning.”

“What is it, then?”, Jingyi’s voice turned inquisitive. 

“Hell,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

“It’s a confession curse,” Lan Zhan said at the same time, shooting him an apologetic look. 

When Lan Zhan had said the same thing last night, in the quiet of the Jingshi, it brought Wei Wuxian out in cold sweat. He’d stopped breathing for what was the longest second of his life.

But Lan Zhan, relatively calm, reasonable, and sane as always, only pointed out the subtle differences between the types of curses. Disregarding the suddenly quiet Wei Wuxian, he explained that in his understanding, it is clearly a confession curse that takes confession as an admittance to a thing from Wei Ying’s past that he had not shared with anybody, nor did he express his feelings, thoughts, or opinions about before, and that caused him – or still causes – alleviated mental or emotional state.

So, it was precisely what Wei Wuxian was doing the past few weeks. Reminiscing. Remembering. 

Close call, Wei Wuxian thought, hit with relief. Close enough to what his association with confession would be now, but only close enough. Not the same thing. Not what he was cursed with, fortunately. 

He knew that what happened to him regarding his feelings towards Lan Zhan happened after he was cursed. He knew it was all just coincidental, and that it was all owing to his mind and his body finally catching up on how absolutely fucking fantastic Lan Zhan was.

Because he could see Lan Zhan better now. Because Lan Zhan became a constant in his life, without the dangers looming over them, casting a dark shadow over them, impossible to miss, difficult to omit. 

All because Wei Wuxian could now fully take in what it was like, having Lan Zhan around. Spending more and more time with him. Having him listen to his jabber all the time. Seeing him first thing in the mornings and last thing in the evenings. Having dinner with him everyday. Stealing his awful tea and having him pour him liquor without asking. Sleeping in the same bed, feeling Lan Zhan’s hand tangled in his hair. Listening to Lan Zhan hum when he had a good day. Hearing him play his qin so that they sleep better. Observing how he teaches, guides, walks, talks; observing the way he listens to people, the way he listens to him. The way his expression softens each time their eyes meet. The way he every so often smiles at him, and him only.

All because he allowed himself to believe he could have this for a second too long.

It could fuck up a man, Wei Wuxian thought. It certainly did fuck him up.

Back in the study, Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged looks. They did that a lot, he couldn’t help but notice. 

“Hanguang-jun,” Sizhui said. “Please excuse our confusion, but…How is this different?”

Lan Zhan provided a matter-of-fact explanation. Wei Wuxian felt like kissing him. Not that it was an unknown sensation to him, now.  

“A truth curse makes you say anything that comes to your mind, especially during discussions. When someone asks you a question, you are physically unable to tell a lie. When casted correctly and by someone of strong spiritual energy, it can be a very damaging curse. If you try to withhold its effect, it will most likely kill you after too many attempts,” he said. “Moreover, it usually does not leave a visible curse mark. Methods of elimination vary; often it is time-limited. Sometimes, only the caster can undo it.”

Sizhui and Jingyi were noting down frantically. Jingyi looked up for a moment, looking like he wanted to ask something, but he frowned and scribbled some more. 

“Precisely,” Wei Wuxian grinned. “In contrast, a confession curse is gentler; weaker, you might say. The mechanism is similar, but it allows me to lie and doesn’t make me blurt out everything I have to say all the time. It just… Urgently prompts me to speak my mind. Express my thoughts and opinions and so on. And just like a truth curse, it hurts me physically if I keep things in. Oh, and no curse mark, too. Unless I’m missing something.”

“How does it hurt you, senior Wei?”. Sizhui’s voice was worried when he looked at him. He must have guessed, partially, but he wanted the full image. Jingyi casted a troubled glance at him as well.

“Oh, well. You know, the usual. But as you can see, I’m still standing! Not too malignant of a curse, this one.”

(“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s tone was flat. “Am I wrong in assuming that all the situations that I enumerated…The passing outs, the fire, the cut…Happened because you kept something to yourself, while the curse wanted you to talk? You tried to withhold the confession?” “Yeah, Lan Zhan. I guess you’re right. It all seems connected — this, plus the cold.” “The cold?” “Oh, I’ve been cold for real, but now that I think of it… there were… some nights that I felt colder than normally. I think. I believe it was the curse, too.” “Mn. Mhm. All right.” “Lan Zhan? Are you alright?” “I’m not the one who got cursed, Wei Ying.”)

“This is so stupid, actually. I don’t understand!”, Jingyi was sulking. “We have so much information. Why can’t you just say what you have to say and break the curse, senior Wei? Just confess to… whatever it is that you have to confess! Spill the beans! Wait, do you even know what it is that the curse wants you to do?”

Oh, Jingyi. 

“Jingyi,” Lan Zhan’s tone was verging on scolding now. “Remember that this is a random symptom curse. It expresses no patterns in how exactly it affects the cursed.”  

“Right,” Wei Wuxian said in a bittersweet tone. “It just happens that I have a lot of things that I kept from people throughout the years, and some things that I kept from myself, too. On top of that, my past is quite… Eventful. There’s a lot of talking I can still do, I’m afraid! Lots of confessions this curse might expect of me.”

Just not this one. Rejoice, everyone.

“So far, the curse has made me remember and talk about those… little things, you see.” It was Sizhui’s turn now to shoot an inquisitive look at him. If there’s anyone who would understand the power of memory, Sizhui is definitely one of those people. “Recall some memories. Impressions. The fleeting moments. Feelings, emotions, you name it.” Wei Wuxian smiled rather sadly at the juniors. He didn’t know if it was the curse, or if he just wanted to be sincere with them… as much as he could. “Write it down, actually! It may be also useful that this type of curse is contextual.”

They glanced at him curiously.

“What do you mean, senior Wei?”

“Wei Ying means that even if what Jingyi proposed was true, it wouldn’t work for this curse.” Lan Zhan was staring at Wei Wuxian intently. “It does not work like that. The confession curse is contextual, meaning that he can only confess in the right circumstances. In the right context. It would not count if he blurted out whatever confessions came to his mind, all at the same time. It would work for a truth curse, but not for this one.”

Jingyi frowned, “So it is kind of like… Unless somebody asks, you can’t tell, senior Wei? Or rather – you can, but it won’t matter. Like, if I told Sizhui that I ate his candy without him noticing, only hypothetically, of course, but the circumstances would be unfavourable, let’s say we would be fighting for our lives during a night hunt and Sizhui wouldn’t even bat an eye, because who cares about candy when a spirit is about to gauge your eyes out… This totally didn’t happen, of course… I would still have to tell him about the candy later, when he finally asked me why I seem so smug? The original confession wouldn’t count for the curse?”

“Precisely.”

Jingyi winced. “So it seems that what we’re left with is why you got cursed, senior Wei.”

He and Lan Zhan had established that already last night, to Lan Zhan’s biggest frown in history of Lan Zhan’s frowns: Wei Wuxian was still, and probably forever will remain, a persona non grata for some people.

Have the Yaos ever liked Wei Wuxian, even when he was a disciple? When he wasn’t even the Yilling Laozu? No, absolutely not. 

Have they despised him enough to curse him? Probably. Why not, Wei Wuxian figured. 

Did it matter that his good name was partially revoked? No, apparently not.

Upon a short reflection, it was inevitable, Wei Wuxian sighed. Sooner or later someone was going to do this, one way or another.

He told Sizhui and Jingyi the same thing now. Lan Zhan only clenched his jaw.

To Wei Wuxian’s surprise, Jingyi and Sizhui silently exchanged looks. His brows furrowed – was there anything they left out? 

One look at Lan Zhan revealed he was curious as well. 

“Sizhui,” he asked. “Is there anything you would like to add or anything you do not agree with?”

“Hanguang-jun. Senior Wei. Apologies if this will be rather straightforward, but I believe me and Jingyi might have something to… add. As to why the Yao Clan might hold some grudges towards senior Wei. When senior Wen and I were travelling, we…”, Sizhui, ever so polite, was choosing his words very carefully. He did not want to fuel any biases. “We heard a lot. People gossip plenty when they find someone who seems willing to listen to them.” 

And both you and Wen Ning cannot say “no” for the love of your life.

Lan Zhan looked at them with a strange expression. “Do tell, please.”

Sizhui nodded his head and cleared his throat. It probably wasn’t a comfortable situation, to tell what bullshit he heard people say. 

“I have already shared this with Jingyi and I think he might agree with me that this might be the case,” Jingyi nodded his head frantically. “Of course, what I’m going to say are other people’s words — my apologies, senior Wei—”

Wei Wuxian beamed at him warmly. “None taken, Sizhui, please go on! I’ve heard my share already, you will not surprise me.”

Jingyi looked at him like he wanted to bet. Lan Zhan looked at Jingyi like he was afraid of exactly that.

Sizhui took a deep breath. “From what I gathered, it is not only possible that the Yao Clan would want to curse you, senior Wei, but also highly probable. We were in Pingyang, too, and— well, I don’t know how long you were there for…”

“The city of Pingyang? A day, most likely. I don’t quite remember it very well, as Jingyi has kindly reminded us, so no longer than a day. I spent some more time in the outskirts before heading to the city, as usual,” Wei Wuxian squinted his nose, trying to remember more. Sizhui smiled tightly.

“We spent much more time there, as the case there preoccupied us for longer than suspected. We heard a lot from the local people. And… they all seem to still blame you for what happened all those years ago.”

Wei Wuxian smiled at him, reassuringly. It was to be expected. He encouraged the boy to speak. 

“From what and how they speak about you, it appears that they believe that… guilty or not, you are still a… thorn in their side, if not a danger to the cultivation world. They cannot really argue, since the matter was officially resolved, but they are still… Petty. Disappointed. The word travels differently there, you know it yourself. They… If they cursed you, it is most likely because of Hanguang-jun.” 

Wei Wuxian’s smile faltered. Sizhui looked like he was in pain. Seeing how uncomfortable his friend was, Jingyi jumped in to help.

“The thing is,” he said, and his tone reminded Wei Wuxian of how he spoke to Su She in the Burial Mounds that one time. “They believe that you corrupted Hanguang-jun, or some similar nonsense. No offence, Hanguang-jun.” Jingyi turned to Lan Zhan. “They filter the facts out in their favour. For example, they would remember you siding with senior Wei in Jinlintai, conveniently forgetting that it was all a part of Jin Guangyao’s plot. What’s important is that they feel personally offended, of course. And now they, quite openly, blame senior Wei for Hanguang-jun resigning from his Chief Cultivator position.”

Lan Zhan lips were slightly parted.

Wei Wuxian’s head shot up. “Wait. How?” 

“It’s all a matter of timing,” Jingyi frowned at him. “You reappeared – and in Gusu, at that – at the same time their disciples got hurt and cursed. Then, suddenly, Hanguang-jun resigned from post. It all fits. For them, it’s a cause-and-effect.”

“But wait,” Wei Wuxian shook his head. “I was already cursed when Lan Zhan resigned, I think we agreed on that.”

“Yeah, but,” Jingyi exhaled. “There were rumours. It all started way earlier. When you came back, everyone in Pingyang was gossiping, saying that now their old suspicions are going to be confirmed, that you’re going back to Hanguang-jun, going to steal his attention again and, I don’t know, demoralise and use him, or whatever. So… the curse would be a revenge from Yao's side. It was supposed to make you confess.”

Wei Wuxian already knew the direction they were going. He didn’t like it one bit. Him and Lan Zhan didn’t get this far in their discussion last night.

“Confess to what?”, Lan Zhan asked. His tone was ice cold. Oh, Lan Zhan. 

Jingyi scoffed. “To his crimes, lies, and all the other sins they believe you keep, senior Wei. The curse was supposed to make senior Wei confess, so that you, Hanguang-jun, uhm. Would leave him. This sounds even worse out loud than in my head, my apologies, Hanguang-jun. But anyway, they thought that if Wei Wuxian, the Yilling Louzu, confessed his wrongdoings, Hanguang-jun would leave him for good upon hearing them. That, I don’t know, Hanguang-jun — that you would become instantly enlightened, I assume, and that you would scornfully admit you were fooled, and you would gracefully come back, be Chief Cultivator again, so that they would have you to themselves, again. And that nothing would be left for senior Wei, because—”. Because fuck you, that’s why. “ —because, well. You should probably feel ashamed to show your face, senior Wei. Let alone show anywhere with Hanguang-jun. So, nothing for you but the curse. I guess that’s their point.”

("Yilling Laozu, you truly are worth of your title! Returning to the world after sixteen years, you still make us all look like idiots. Not only Jin Ling - you managed to fool Hanguang-jun, too.")

They fell silent when Jingyi finished. Sizhui’s gaze was fixed on his lap. Jingyi’s gaze was fixed on Sizhui.

Wei Wuxian was listening very carefully for the entire time. Only now, though, did he decide to look at Lan Zhan.

("Right. You're right.")

His face was tense, every muscle twitching. He was trying his best not to look furious. He was trying his best, Wei Wuxian knew, to not snap.

Wei Wuxian wanted to hold him so badly. He wanted to cling to his back and comfortingly play with his hair. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, tell him that none of this matters, that it’s just life, that they will handle this. He wanted to hold his hand, at least, damn it. 

He could only try to catch his gaze and shift closer to him, pressing their legs together.

“Lan Zhan,” a pleading whisper left him. “It’s all right.”

“It is not all right. You are cursed and people are imbeciles. How is this all right?”

("Not right. I already knew he was Wei Ying.")

Lan Zhan’s tone was sharp, and so was his gaze that he only now returned. Wei Wuxian instantly shivered, but he quickly recoiled. Uncaring, he caught Lan Zhan’s hand into his and laced their fingers together. Lan Zhan looked at him again; some of the ice in his eyes melted. Wei Wuxian looked at him, gently. He did not break eye contact. He hated seeing Lan Zhan like this, and he needed him to know that what Sizhui and Jingyi revealed didn’t bother him that much. He needed him to know he does not have to be so defensive, now. That he can just breathe.

I’m already cursed, Lan Zhan. It can hardly get worse.

(Oh but it can.)

You do not deserve to worry on my behalf. It's meaningless.

“Lan Zhan,” he tried again, quietly. “People will forever remain stupid. You will not change that. You don’t care about them, anyway, do you?”

“I do not,” Lan Zhan’s tone was now pained. “But it’s about you. Not me.”

“And I don’t care, either.” Wei Wuxian smiled and raised his voice, even if he wanted to scream. “As long as you don’t deem me — eee, what was it, Jingyi? A thorn in your side, yes — as long as you don’t consider me annoying enough to curse me, Hanguang-jun, I’m good. We’re good.”

He squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand harder. The juniors smiled lightly. Lan Zhan huffed. 

For Wei Wuxian, it was a success.

“Well,” he turned to the juniors now. They were looking at them with unsure expressions. “People are mean, are they not! Jokes aside, thank you both for telling us. You did the right thing. I don’t think there’s much I can do about it—not much that we can do. A curse is a curse, anyway. I was aware I can’t run for a popularity award yet, but it’s good to know that there are particular areas that I better avoid more if I don’t want to, hm. Get cursed, apparently.” The atmosphere got lighter. Jingyi rolled his eyes. “Nevertheless, it leaves us in the same place: with a curse that we need to get rid off, or I will talk your precious Hanguang-jun to death.”

“Way to go,” Jingyi murmured. Wei Wuxian and Sizhui laughed.

When Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Zhan again, all tension was gone from his face, and his eyes were back to their soft, deep blackness. He was glad to see this.

But he also couldn’t shake off an ugly, creeping realisation that followed:

He was literally cursed so that he would leave Lan Zhan. No — so that Lan Zhan would leave him. 

If it wasn’t telling, Wei Wuxian didn’t know what was.

Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry. I don’t think anybody but you trusts me enough to think that we might have a future. Whatever shape it would take. Whatever we would be.

****

Wei Wuxian found out that his life before and after he found out he was cursed didn’t differ that much at all.

His routine in the Cloud Recesses seemed to be settled.

He stayed with Lan Zhan in the Jingshi. They slept in their respective beds, unless the nights were impossibly cold. And the winter nights in Gusu were cold, Lan Zhan was right. Wei Wuxian soon discovered that although Lan Zhan’s bed was bigger, his was positioned by the window with the prettier view. And in the evenings, Lan Zhan liked looking at the snow falling softly on the trees and rooftops.

He helped Lan Zhan with his work, which was significantly more bearable now that he wasn’t Chief Cultivator. He helped out with classes. He corrected some papers. He played with Lan Zhan’s hair when he corrected the rest of those papers (this was important moral support). He reviewed the talismans and overlooked one or two mock exams in Spirit Luring. He did not help with calligraphy, and he did not stay anywhere near Lan Qiren around the time he gave Cultivation History lectures.

He ate with Lan Zhan; sometimes with the juniors (and Lan Zhan). Sometimes with Lan Xichen (and Lan Zhan), when the Chief Cultivator’s schedule allowed. These were pleasant evenings, even if silent – Wei Wuxian came to know that he actually didn’t mind the silences that much, especially after having talked for so long himself. Sometimes, he visited Caiyi with Wen Ning. He missed this. They ate baked potatoes. 

He talked, of course. He still talked a lot.

Everywhere he went, he was wearing his new robes, his old ones long gone. They wouldn’t even make good wiping cloths, it turned out. Looking at him, Lan Zhan’s expression turned as smug as Wei Wuxian ever saw it be. Lan Qiren’s wasn’t smug. And the disciples didn’t mind. They got used to having him around very quickly, having him help out during night hunts, during heavy blizzards, fighting the spirits snugly wrapped in his coat. He was more than welcome there: his loud, jumpy presence clad in a variation on Lan robes was soon as normal as Lan Zhan’s. The presence of his clothes in Lan Zhan’s wardrobe was also soon as normal.

His and Lan Zhan’s tradition of evening strolls didn’t stop, unless it was cold enough to bother even Lan Zhan, in his pristine, light robes. Seeing him, Wei Wuxian was both scandalised and furious: furious, because there is just now way that you are actually not cold, Lan Zhan, let me see—how are your hands still warm?! Scandalised, because Lan Zhan was way too pretty for this, for Wei Wuxian to handle. The white of his robes blending in with the snow. His black, silky hair flowing, standing in stark, shocking contrast to the white of the background. His eyes, dark against the pale skin, and his lips — red, soft. All for Wei Wuxian to—

“Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s voice at his side brought Wei Wuxian back to reality, but the reality was not far from his imagination. 

It was an early evening, the favourite time of day for Wei Wuxian. He liked how the time seemed to slow down then. He and Lan Zhan were standing in the terrace of the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian tucked warmly in his coat, leaning against the rail with a bottle of the Emperor’s Smile in his hand. Lan Zhan at his side, his hands hidden in his robes, his face turned towards him. Warm, expectant expression. Lips slightly parted, a bit dry. Wei Wuxian felt an intense urge to change it. He couldn’t keep his gaze up on Lan Zhan’s eyes.

It was snowing, he realised only when the first snowflakes started falling on Lan Zhan. Soon, they began coating his hair. Catching up on his brows and eyelashes. Those melted quickly, leaving a wet trail, so similar to tears, Wei Wuxian thought. The ones in his hair did not melt easily. They made Lan Zhan look more delicate. Soft. Frail. 

Everytime Wei Wuxian saw Lan Zhan in the snow, he felt like something within him was breaking. Each time he much as pictured Lan Zhan in the snow, his heart ached like it was about to shatter into a million pieces. 

A boy kneeling in front of a house, awaiting the doors to open. A man kneeling in front of whom he disappointed most, awaiting punishment. 

Him, standing in ice cold water. His scars looking paler in the freezing weather. Him, disappearing under the surface. 

In Wei Wuxian’s dreams, he didn’t emerge. 

He sometimes dreamt of being underwater. He never knew which dream he was going to get. If he was lucky, it was him, getting tangled in lotus flowers in the lakes of Yunmeng, laughing hysterically as shijie and Jiang Cheng tried to pull him up, only to fall into the water themselves.

If he wasn’t lucky, it was Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan disappearing under the surface of water unnaturally cold. There is no place where water would get this cold. No place but one. It filled him with terror, the knowledge. Snow falling around, ice forming at the shallow shore. The surface of the water unnervingly undisturbed. It was too quiet. 

In this dream, Lan Zhan never emerges from the depths. Wei Wuxian always leans forward to kiss the calm, cool face of the river—

Only to wake up in sweat. To turn around frantically, get tangled up in the sheets, just to check if Lan Zhan is still sleeping peacefully at his side. To make sure the water didn’t take him. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeated. “Are you alright?”

There was more snow in his hair now, Wei Wuxian noticed. He smiled tightly at him, trying very hard to stop the tears. He was sure they would freeze, anyway.

“Are you worried about the curse?”

Wei Wuxian froze. Lan Zhan was looking at him with concern on his face. He must have thought this was what got him so spaced out. 

Lan Zhan. If you knew. I pray you never will.

He started wondering: was he worried about the curse? He didn’t know. What worried him was the fact that Lan Zhan seemed worried, and that they didn’t make any progress about finding out the way to break the spell.

Some days, they agreed that the curse was time-limited and is going to go away on its own soon. 

Some days they argued that it is impossible, that too much time passed, and that it might be the type of truth curse that can only be undone by the caster, in which case Wei Wuxian was doomed.

Very soon, the atmosphere turned more glum. They seemed to have reached a silent agreement: there was a trigger that would stop the curse. But if there was one, Wei Wuxian had no idea how to figure it out: he didn’t know what was considered important to share. Which of his traumas he should reveal; which of the old wounds should he open? 

To him, there was something missing. They were missing something. There must be a clue, a key to what breaks this curse. 

He talked so much, but he was lacking words. If only he could talk to someone who would be willing to admit, who could be confronted… Whoever could help him figure out how to stay at Lan Zhan’s side, because he couldn’t stay and trouble him forever, cursed eternally and beyond repair. Whoever could help him figure out how to avoid the inevitable distance that the course was going to—

“Lan Zhan,” he said suddenly, too loud. “Truth curses are all, by definition, not long-distance curses. You cannot curse someone from the other side of the country, nor can you curse someone you never met in your life. Correct?”

“Correct,” Lan Zhan nodded, looking at him quizzically. “It is generally agreed on that you must at least experience eye contact recently with someone to curse them, or know them rather well. It also works for the spell itself: you are not requested to be in the direct proximity of someone you want to get cursed, but you need to know where they are. Why?”

“So,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, and stood straight. “The hypothetical Yao who cursed me while I was in Pingyang must have not only known that I was there. They also either are close with me or must have met me there. The former is out, of course. When it comes to the Yao Clan, I only personally know Clan Leader Yao. So the caster must have met me while I was in Pingyang. And, on top of that, they must have made sure that the corpse they send my way will be killed by me. I could have been travelling with a company, for example.”

Lan Zhan’s brows furrowed. “They must have been keeping an eye on you, then. It’s a very precise spell. But what does it mean for you, Wei Ying—”

Wei Wuxian threw his bottle of liquor at Lan Zhan, who caught it with a dumbfounded expression. “I must go and find Sizhui, Lan Zhan. I’ll be back!”

He turned on his heel and ran.

Fortunately, finding Sizhui this time of the day wasn’t a difficult task. He was in the Library Pavillon, working on something.

“Senior Wei!”, he exclaimed happily when he noticed Wei Wuxian. His expression quickly faltered. “Senior Wei, what happened?”

“Sizhui,” Wei Wuxian breathed out. “I will explain everything later, but now I need you to answer my questions as well as you can, alright?”

Sizhui nodded. “All right.” A true Lan, he was.

“When were you and Wen Ning in Pingyang exactly?”

“From what I told Hanguang-jun, we agreed that it was the exact same time you two were on your way to Yunmeng.”

So I was already cursed, and Lan Zhan already resigned. I had been in Pingyang before Sizhui and Wen Ning were there.

“And after I returned from Yunmeng,” he pressed. “You told me that you ran into a situation in Pingyang. A curse that turned out to be a possession.”

“Oh. Yes,” Sizhui agreed and furrowed his brows, trying to remember more. “We were told that a young man was affected by an unspecified curse some time ago. It was… strange. What was stranger was that everyone seemed relieved after we told them that it was a possession, not a curse. Bizarre, isn’t it? Possession is more dangerous, and they seemed happy, because it wasn’t a curse…”. Wei Wuxian paled. Sizhui’s face changed rapidly. “Wait. Senior Wei, do you think that this man was… a Yao disciple in disguise? And the people were worried he was affected by the curse from Qinghe, that’s why they were behaving so weirdly around us? Because they didn’t want us to know? So secretive they are…? Senior Wei!”

Oh, they most certainly are. 

Wei Wuxian sprinted out of the Library Pavillon. He almost fell twice on his way to the Jingshi. Once, because it was slippery. The second time because of what he realised. 

He barged in, a puddle of melted snow quickly forming at his feet. Lan Zhan was sitting at the table with his qin in front of him. He looked at Wei Wuxian startled.

“Wei Ying? What is wrong? Did you find out something about the curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian couldn’t move. Lan Zhan rose from his seat. “It wasn’t the Yaos, Lan Zhan.”

“Who was it, then?”

Lan Zhan took his wet outer robes from him as Wei Wuxian absentmindedly took his shoes off. He slumped down at the table.

“I… don’t know,” he said slowly. Lan Zhan was instantly at his side. “But we were wrong. This is not—”. This is not a confession curse, he couldn’t say. “ —I wasn’t cursed by them.”

“How do you know? Did you remember something about Pingyang? Did you talk to anybody there?”

“The point is exactly that I didn’t talk to anybody in Pingyang, Lan Zhan."

Silence.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I remember it now. I was at the outskirts of the city for a few days, and didn’t meet a single person. Not that weird, it’s a secluded place, right? But upon entering the city I fought the corpse,” he explained very carefully, not breaking eye contact with Lan Zhan. “And it was the only person I met. Not even a person, mind you. Almost immediately after that I left for Gusu. I hadn’t been even planning on going back to Gusu then, Lan Zhan.”

A shadow passed through Lan Zhan’s face. “You think it is when the curse hit you.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “Exactly. At that time I just thought that, I don’t know, I saw how big of a shithole Pingyang is and I realised how much I missed the riches of Caiyi, or something,” he continued, “But now that I think of it, it was so random. And I didn't pay it any mind, then, but I didn’t see anybody there, in the city, Lan Zhan, not a child, not a merchant. The interesting thing is… on my way to Gusu, on the other hand, I overheard someone gossiping about a town where all of the citizens are hiding because a weird curse struck them. It must have been Pingyang, what they heard about.”

Lan Zhan’s lips parted. “And Sizhui…”

“Sizhui confirmed what I was thinking. When he and Wen Ning were in Pingyang a few days later, they were called there to help with a curse. The people were relieved when it turned out to be a possession.”

“It was a Yao disciple. They thought he, too, was cursed, but they would never admit to an outsider.” Lan Zhan remarked.

“Precisely,” Wei Wuxian nodded. “But what gave it away was the timing, and what you observed, Lan Zhan.” Lan Zhan’s brows furrowed. “The Yao Clan is run by probably the most arrogant, hot-headed, self-important leader in the cultivation world. The people are not to blame for this, but the way they live in Pingyang – their extremely secluded Pingyang – is very specific. They are a close-knit society. They keep everything in. It also means that they share about a lot more internally, because they trust each other to keep it between themselves. It’s how they live.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened in understanding. “You think if someone from the Yao clan cursed you, everyone there would know of it, or at least suspect it. It would be an internal matter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded seriously. “And by the time Sizhui and Wen Ning arrived there, I was already cursed. They citizens would know that. They would be at least aware that… Wei Wuxian is going to be dealt with. They would still be very secretive about it, of course, but Sizhui and Wen Ning spent some time there – you heard Sizhui, he said that the gossip about me, about you, was ubiquitous. Wouldn’t you think that, if everyone knew I was already getting punished, they would at least hint at it? Throw in a sarcastic ah, Wei Wuxian’s influence will end soon in a casual discussion? Nobody would ask them to clarify. It’s common knowledge, their hatred towards me. And they definitely wouldn’t be so persistent on whining and complaining about me to Sizhui and Wen Ning. They would know what was coming my way.”

“Or,” Lan Zhan added quietly. “They would not speak of you at all. They would know they don’t have to anymore. Why bother.”

This means whoever cursed me, knows me, and knows me quite well. Lurking in the shadows, somewhere a step ahead of me, or two steps behind me, hell. In the peripheral. Perhaps smiling at me, greeting me in the streets that I roamed the last months. Never too close, but near enough to reach me this once. Observing. Smirking at my antics. More aware of what I am than me, myself. 

Their eyes met. There was little to comment.

After a moment, Lan Zhan said:

“Regardless, we still need to find out who did this. This gives us a new perspective, though. Have you figured out a way to break the curse?”

Yes, Lan Zhan. 

Because this is not a simple confession curse. 

It’s a love confession curse.

I was cursed to confess. Once I confess to you, the curse is lifted.

He realised this just now. His choice to instantly leave for Gusu that day wasn’t even his choice. It was the caster’s choice.

There were no signs from gods. There were no dreams. There was nothing, but the curse. 

The curse that made it very clear that Gusu, that the Cloud Recesses, is his destination, because the Cloud Recesses was where he was supposed to lift the curse. Where the person he was supposed to confess to was. 

The caster did not want him to roam the world and share his word. They wanted him to go to Gusu and meet his undoing there. To take the fall in the Cloud Recesses.

It was supposed to be as simple as that.

It should have been clear to him, Wei Wuxian thought, stunned. He rejected this possibility with such strong conviction. He was too preoccupied with the possibility that he was cursed by people who still find him unworthy of the cultivation world’s attention, of Lan Zhan’s attention.

He was so sure that what happened to how he feels, happened after he was cursed. Because he was cursed. 

He was so unwilling to believe that it was the other way around, that he was cursed because of his feelings.

Because it now seems that not only Jiang Cheng was aware of them. 

Are you dumb? Do you think people can’t see what is happening between the two of you?

Jiang Cheng really was right. People knew. People noticed. 

At least whoever cursed him, noticed. And clearly didn’t like it.

He wasn’t made to confess to his feelings about memories from the past. He was made to confess to those that somehow concerned Lan Zhan.

He was punished by the curse when he told Lan Zhan he was fine when he wasn’t. When he didn’t tell him about what being cold means. When he thought about kissing him for the first time, and for the tenth. When he argued with Jiang Cheng, because he couldn’t bring himself to agree with him. 

When he couldn’t talk about all the things he wished Lan Zhan knew. All the things he secretly, helplessly hoped Lan Zhan reciprocated.

Lan Zhan, I don’t think there’s denying this one. It’s a lost cause.

I know I said that it doesn’t matter, that I don’t care. I don’t. But how can I do this to you? How can I stay if it already means people are cursing me?

What will happen to you when I confess? If I confessed?

Lan Zhan, I don’t think my wish is going to come true this time. Let’s have yours come true, at least.

No regrets. 

“No,” he said. “I am still not sure how to break the curse. I’m sorry.” 

Lan Zhan looked at him sadly; Wei Wuxian wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t worry, that it’s going to be okay.

He parted his mouth only to cough violently and spit blood at Lan Zhan’s pristine robes.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian found out he was wrong. His life before and after he found out he had been cursed was different.

He didn’t tell Lan Zhan anything else. He left him with the conviction that yes, they were wrong all along about the Yaos cursing him, but no, they were not even a step closer to actually breaking the curse. He told him he was sorry that he was clueless.

All that despite the fact that Wei Wuxian knew how to break the curse, and could break it anytime now.

He did not attempt to do so.

The right context was always there. All circumstances were right circumstances, because Lan Zhan was right there all the time. It would be enough to just remark, to chat him up, to say hi Lan Zhan, actually!

To just confess.

Instead, Wei Wuxian pretended he was still looking for an answer. No — he didn’t pretend. He was actually looking for an answer. For another way out. For a solution. 

He would not accept the inevitable. He would not.

He was determined and so desperate he made himself believe that there must be another way. That there are multiple ways of breaking a curse, that it is realistically not possible that his can only be lifted upon confession.

He refused to believe that. He refused.

Sometimes (but only occasionally) he wondered who cursed him. Then he remembered he didn’t necessarily have more friends than enemies. Someone noticed. Someone took a look at him and guessed. He did not need to know who. It made no difference now. It made no difference, because this knowledge wouldn’t help him in breaking the curse. Whoever did it, definitely wouldn’t lift it if Wei Wuxian just asked nicely. Whoever cursed him, clearly didn’t count on him succeeding. 

So he kept on searching. In the mornings, in the evenings, after the curfew. He went through every book he already read. Through every manuscript Sizhui and Jingyi carefully studied and summarised for him. Through everything that Lan Zhan brought from the restricted areas, from his private collection, from other places of origin unbeknownst to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian felt like a traitor for not the first time in his life when he stopped sharing his plans and thoughts with Lan Zhan, and then locked himself up. Isolated himself, thinking it would be better for both of them. He visited Caiyi alone, although Lan Zhan obviously knew when and where he was gone. He contacted people not having passed their words to Lan Zhan, or retelling only what was convenient. What could keep up his pretence, his lie, while he still looked, anguished, for another solution. For another way. 

For whatever would allow him to stay with Lan Zhan without having to ruin everything. Ruin them. 

(He also, pointedly, ignored the dark bags under Lan Zhan’s eyes, and the crease on his forehead. If he took full notice of this, he would break. The peripheral was where he kept it. The peripheral was where his mind would have to be now.) 

When he locked himself in the Library Pavillon, he did it alone. When Lan Zhan joined, he quickly gave up what he was working on to go back to what Lan Zhan proposed. Although he tried to pay attention, he might have as well lied to himself. Lan Zhan knew him better than he ever thought was possible. He noticed him stealing glances at his notes, abandoned on another table. 

“We can work separately, if you find my presence uncomfortable,” Lan Zhan then said.

Wei Wuxian felt like unsheathing Bichen from where it lay on the table and slitting his throat would hurt less. He was tempted to try.

When he wasn’t locked among the dusty books, Wei Wuxian went for answers himself, gripping his coat tighter at the collar. He went to ask healers in Caiyi. Fortune tellers. Rogue cultivators. Nobody knew anything. Everybody hoped he would find the answer soon. But nobody could help him. He couldn’t bring himself to say that it was him who was cursed. He could never. And so he asked some more. He felt pathetic and useless, having to ask around. It was the first time in his life that he had to. It was the first time that he would.

Wasn’t he the master of demonic cultivation? Wasn’t he supposed to be the person who knew all the wicked tricks?

Wasn’t it his own idea? Field of knowledge? Area of expertise?

It felt like a mockery, the helplessness. It felt like a personal jab.

Wei Wuxian felt strange, travelling alone, in secret. Weird. Lonely. He felt anxious, really anxious, for the first time in months. He rarely ever did. It nearly swept him off his feet, the fear. He selfishly, foolishly wished Lan Zhan was there with him. 

(He wished Lan Zhan never found out that he thought of it.)

He was near going mad, he believed. He could only hope Lan Zhan would be far away from him when it happens.

Needless to say, the curse did not like him faltering. It did not accept the hesitation. Consequently, Wei Wuxian was prone to small accidents. Tiny injuries. Insignificant losses. His Emperor’s Smile getting tinted with hints of blood. His dreams getting unbearable at times, the water filling his lungs, filling Lan Zhan’s empty eye sockets. The nights getting too cold to sleep, unless he was quite literally placated under every blanket that Lan Zhan could find and Lan Zhan on top of this. The new, perfectly fitted robes hanging on him, because food tasted like ash. Like the Burial Mounds gravel. 

It did not help that it was Lan Zhan who assisted him incessantly. Who was nothing short of concerned. They stopped the evening strolls. They cancelled the Library Pavillon sessions with the juniors and afternoon teas with Lan Xichen, who was growing gradually more worried, too. They barely talked about anything but the curse. All that to study yet another ancient book. Yet another forgotten letters collection. 

It did not help Wei Wuxian how persistent Lan Zhan was. How stubborn. How caring. How he spent his free time to look, to search, to think of something. 

Guilt was eating Wei Wuxian’s rotting insides alive, soon to gnaw on his bones. Soon to suck the marrow out of them, smacking its hideous lips with fervor. He could already smell the decay from his mouth. He tried not to talk too loudly to hide this.

He told Lan Zhan to take a break at least a dozen times; he finally told him that it was his curse to carry, and his to break. Lan Zhan shot him a betrayed, hurt look, for the first time since Wei Wuxian could remember. Only this once. They did not speak of it again. 

It made Wei Wuxian cry with both frustration and naive, burning desperation. He was not going insane. He was already long gone.

He could not live with himself. Looking at Lan Zhan like this, knowing he was only deceiving him, lying to him — it made him feel worse than every tinge of pain, than every coughing fit, every bit of blood that left his lips.

He could not make Lan Zhan go through this, and it was getting more painful with each day.

He could not look at how he made Lan Zhan’s life a living hell. The mere idea of it going on any further drove him mad.

Wei Wuxian felt that the hatred others had for him slowly started to plant its seeds in himself. He would understand them. Soon, he would join them.

Six days after he realised what type of curse he was dealing with, Wei Wuxian made his decision. 

On the seventh day, he will let Lan Zhan rest.

He sometimes selfishly wonders what Lan Zhan was doing for the sixteen years he had been gone. 

How did he pass the time — unlimited and unrestricted, but for the fruitless attempts to look for what had remained of the one who brought the downfall on himself? 

How much time did he waste on the ash and dust that became Wei Wuxian? 

What was he doing in between the passages of no more than a ghost of the melody, soon to be forgotten?

Sixteen years is enough to live a life, Wei Wuxian thinks. Fully. To create, to destroy, and to live again. And to repeat.

The juniors were around this age. Jin Ling was around this age.

He was sixteen when he met Lan Zhan. Does he recall it very well? The life before Lan Zhan? The life before his studying time in the Cloud Recesses, a lifetime ago? A person ago?

He recalls it, of course. Yunmeng. Lotus Pier. His siblings. The streets. His parents, not so much. His adoptive parents, he lets himself indulge in using this term, more. He undoubtedly has some memories, good and bad, about this period. 

He so eagerly recalled, revoked, and relived them in the past few weeks, has he not? 

But mostly, it is a blur.

A kaleidoscope of feelings, emotions, colours and tastes; touches and words, of pain and of sorrow, and of love, somewhere between the lines. Happiness, the way children are happy to receive a forehead kiss before bed. Sadness, the way no child should ever feel it. Ever experience it. 

A montage of noises and of silences; the latter not so plenty, the former — a sign of the times, gone. He preferred the latter to the former, now.

Mostly, it is a blur, because it is a life that no longer exists. His life that already ended. What he has now, is a second attempt. Act number two, with a sixteen-year old interlude. 

For Lan Zhan, on the other hand, it was all just one, long play. One, very long life. 

The thought makes Wei Wuxian shiver. It fills him with dread, but what does  — to live for so long?

To not be given a break — not even once, not even for a second?

Or to be in the dark for so long, so agonisingly long.

To experience the endless darkness, to live through it — feel every moment of it, fully, hour by hour, day by day. Year by year.

To have it swallow you whole and fill you in, all at the same time.

          He carries light where he goes—

Wei Wuxian knows that three months is enough for life to come undone and turn inside out. Three months. 

What about one hundred and ninety-two of them spent in the dark?

How do these sixteen years stand out in the length of it all?

          He carries light where he goes, but he goes alone. 

Wei Wuxian is in no position to judge, but he is in a position to wonder. And that he does a lot. 

How would his life without Lan Zhan look? No — how would he spend sixteen years with and without Lan Zhan? 

With or without him? 

With he ignores. He cannot give in to this. He cannot give in to the fantasies of what would be, what could be. Of what he now knows he can only dream of. It wasn’t. It isn’t. If he knows himself, it won’t. It never will be anything more but a mere fantasy, the with.

Without he crosses out. There is not a thing that would make the fright go away, registering what without means. The mere possibility of spending so much time without Lan Zhan at his side seemed absurd. Unrealistic. Unfeasible. Terrifying and clutching at his throat, mercilessly.  

He cannot not wrap his head around one more thing. He does not understand it.

How could he live without Lan Zhan not knowing that he is going to return, being made to believe that a goodbye is a forever word? 

Knowing that a goodbye was a luxury they were never granted?

Wei Wuxian does not know. He never wants to find out, either. 

He is afraid that the answer would be that he couldn’t. And that he, quite simply, wouldn’t.

He can only grip Lan Zhan’s sleeping robes tighter, hoping he wouldn't hear his rapid breathing. That he cannot feel through all the layers his heart beating so fast as if it tried to escape his ribcage. That the wetness where Wei Wuxian’s face is plastered in between his shoulder blades will be gone by the morning.

On the seventh day, he made to leave.

He didn’t pack. He didn’t have the heart to take anything. 

He didn’t feel like he deserved to take anything more.

His robes, he got from Lan Zhan. He couldn’t take them. His personal belongings, there were not many. He was not going to use them. Was not going to need them. Food – it belonged to the Gusu Lan Sect. He was not a Lan. Do not steal. Not even Little Apple he could take with him; it would be a cruel choice. An unnecessary choice. She liked it better here, with Jingyi. With Lan Zhan’s white rabbits. Wei Wuxian thought, half-smile on his face, that he, too, liked it better here, with Lan Zhan’s white rabbits. 

With the snowy slopes. With the music playing dreamily. With the frozen streams, and the tall pines. With the classes, and with the work, and with the leisure. With the four thousand rules and his presence unwanted by some. Craved by others, he hoped, but this hope only brought him more sorrow.

With Lan Zhan.

He left at night, because everyone always leaves at night. 

Nobody leaves in the lazy hours of the afternoon. In the busy, bustling mornings. Even if someone, even if something, disappears during the day, it is the night that the knowledge sinks in. That the sound of the absence lands.

With nothing but the flute stuck behind his belt, and the coat – the only souvenir he was going to take – on his back, he left the Library Pavillon, directing his steps towards the gates. An oddly familiar route it was, by now. He didn't look back – he knew Lan Zhan must be sound asleep. He prayed he was. 

He hadn’t made it to the Jingshi that evening. He couldn’t look Lan Zhan in the eye. He couldn’t see him. He couldn’t see his soft smile as he handed him tea. 

It would most likely make him stay.

It would have made him weep, and fall apart, and Lan Zhan deserved better than this, at last. 

So he moved in the darkness of the sleeping Cloud Recesses as the snow fell around him, slowly, gently. It muted his steps. It muted everything, mocking him, mocking his silence, and his punishment for it. Not for his words, but the lack of it. 

Who would have guessed this is what it came down to? Him being punished not for what he said, but for what he didn’t?

“You’re leaving.”

He stopped in his tracks, snow under his feet crunching pathetically. 

He did not turn to where Lan Zhan’s voice was coming from. He didn’t answer, because it wasn’t a question. It was a statement. 

He couldn’t see Lan Zhan, but he knew he was standing there. Unmovable. Even after what felt like infinity, when Wei Wuxian finally opened his mouth to speak, he knew Lan Zhan was still in the same spot. 

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered out to the path and the snow falling in front of him. “How did you know I was going to?”

It was probably a stupid question, Wei Wuxian knew. But he also did not.

More than he heard it, he felt Lan Zhan shift closer to him. Wei Wuxian still didn’t turn to look at him.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice was composed, but barely. “Do you remember what you asked me the first night you arrived? When you came back?”

Wei Wuxian stood there, surprised. He didn’t expect this question. He didn’t respond, only slumped his shoulders.

“You asked me if I expected you to come back.”

He slowly turned around to look where the voice was coming from. 

“I didn’t answer you then, but I will now.” Lan Zhan was standing two steps from him, fully dressed. He never went to bed.

“I always expect you to come back. And I always fear you will want to leave.”

Where he stood, the moon was casting light on his pale face. The snow, falling more heavily now, was coating his hair. His face. The robes.

The feeling of deja vu Wei Wuxian felt was overwhelming. The guilt Lan Zhan’s words evoked was unbearable.

He felt like crumpling to the ground. 

Instead, words left his mouth.

“Why, then?”, he asked. “Why wait for me at all if you’re afraid I will leave anyway?”

“Because I hope one day you stay,” Lan Zhan’s voice reached him. “I told you already. I would make the choice to stay with you each time. I can only hope you would, too. One day.”

“I can’t.” Wei Wuxian’s voice was weak and faltering.

“Why?”. Lan Zhan’s – hopeful. Not pressing, but determined. Quiet. “Wei Ying. If it’s because of the curse—”

“Of course it’s because of the curse, Lan Zhan! Why else would I ever want to leave! Why else wouldn’t I want to stay with you!” 

Wei Wuxian exploded for what felt like the first time in ages. He was trembling, and he was angry. He was sick of this curse. It either kills him, or he kills it. He had enough. 

“We can break it, Wei Ying.”

“We can’t. I can’t,” Wei Wuxian snorted. He was feeling awful.

Lan Zhan’s face was unreadable. 

“Why?”, he repeated. 

Wei Wuxian looked at him in disbelief and took a step closer.

Their eyes met for the first time; Lan Zhan was calm, but in the corners of his eyes there was resolve. Firmness. A hint of fear. His lips were slightly parted, and Wei Wuxian hated himself with each minute more.

After a second of studying Wei Wuxian’s face, Lan Zhan inhaled. A barely visible shadow crossed his face. Understanding. 

“You know how to break it. You knew from the moment you talked to Sizhui that night.”

Not a question. A statement. It was how they communicated, now. 

It is what intimacy does to silences. You learn how to interpret them, Wei Wuxian thought, dizzy with frustration. Terror. 

“I do,” he whispered, not breaking eye contact with Lan Zhan. “And I can’t do it.”

He waited for another why?

He awaited the third denial. It never came.

“You can,” was what Lan Zhan said after a while. “You may,” he mirrored, taking half a step closer to Wei Wuxian.

The snow on his head resembled a crown. The ornaments looked like they were carved in ice. The snowflakes on his brows and eyelashes did not melt.

Wei Wuxian was freezing cold. His breath – laboured, his jaw – clenching and unclenching unrhythmically.  

“Stop, Lan Zhan. Please,” he pleaded. “If you knew, you wouldn’t say it. You wouldn’t tell me that I can.”

“Do you not want to?”

They exchanged looks. Wei Wuxian, stunned. Lan Zhan – resolute. Desperate.

“You know, Lan Zhan.”

Do you think he doesn’t know, Wei Wuxian? Wait, do you think he doesn’t…?

He knew, and he was kind enough not to bring it up, Wei Wuxian let the knowledge sink in. Kind enough to disregard it. Polite as always, good as he always was.

Are you going to make another sixteen years of his life hell?

Wei Wuxian chuckled, loudly. Humorlessly. Coldly. 

“So you know I must leave, Lan Zhan. I can’t go on like this. I can’t let you regret anything else. I can’t live like this, play home with you. Knowing it’s all pretend. I know you would be kind enough to let me, to let us.” Lan Zhan’s expression didn’t change. Wei Wuxian chuckled wetly, again. 

“You’re so stubborn, Hanguang-jun. So determined. Why?”

His voice broke. He couldn’t do it like this. 

“I can’t do this to you, Lan Zhan,” he whispered.

“What do you think it will do to me when you leave, Wei Ying?”. Only now did sadness appear in Lan Zhan’s eyes. “When you leave again?”

I’m here, Wei Ying.

You’re here.

Wei Wuxian didn’t cry. It seemed his tears had dried already. He used them all up.

“I told you, Lan Zhan,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking scared of losing you it drives me insane. I can’t deal with this. But what terrifies me more, is hurting you. I can’t—ruin this. You. I can’t stay with you. If you knew—If you know how I feel, you know I can’t stay and make you suffer. I would rather leave you like this and go look for another cure, than confess to what I’m so fucking afraid of and lose you forever. I told you I’m too selfish for that. I told you it won’t do, Lan Zhan. I spilled my guts and now I’m only leaving blood trails behind.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind something was screaming. All blood seemed to be gone from his face and from his body. He felt empty. 

“Let me ask you again, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice was shaking. “Do you not want it?”

“Do I not want what?”

“What the curse wants. What it takes to break it. What the confession implies.”

Oh.

Wei Wuxian felt the cold snowflakes fall under his collar and reach down his spine when he hung his head to avoid Lan Zhan’s piercing gaze.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”, he whispered. “That I do. That I do want it.”

When Lan Zhan spoke, Wei Wuxian felt like the words flew out of his mouth and smacked him in the face. He thought it would surprise him less if it really was Lan Zhan’s hand.

“Then there is no problem, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian raised his head so quickly something snapped in his neck.

“You won’t lose me. You won’t make me do anything by staying. It will not ruin anything, because it is not going to change anything from my side.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“What?”, Wei Wuxian wheezed, trying to focus his gaze on Lan Zhan’s face. “What are you trying to—What are you saying, Lan Zhan?”

“That it doesn’t change anything for me. Nothing changes as my feelings for you are concerned. I was only worried that you wouldn’t want to come to terms with yours. I assumed that you wish to get rid of them.”

Wei Wuxian felt like screaming. He felt like grabbing Lan Zhan by the shoulders and shaking him, asking how? How could he think…?

“That’s why I never… I didn’t believe you would want… that. I apologise,” Lan Zhan finished, his gaze now so uncharacteristic, the breaks between his words so bizarre. 

Wei Wuxian needed to sit down. Immediately. 

“I don’t understand, Lan Zhan,” he stuttered out. “You cannot be saying what I think you’re saying.”

Lan Zhan’s expression was patient, but his words were still coming out shaky. He was trying so hard. 

“I am saying,” he breathed out. “That if you fear hurting me, you could only do so by leaving, not staying. If you fear that… if you lift the curse, you are going to put me in an uncomfortable position, you should abandon this worry.”

The world was spinning. Wei Wuxian was pretty damn sure it was.

“Lan Zhan. Let me put this simply. I just said that I must leave because I can’t lose you to unreciprocated feelings to you that I have caught on the way and realised when it was already too late. Very not friendly feelings. I hope that bit is clear. No friendly feelings in this Wei Wuxian. And now I’m cursed with not a simple confession curse, but a love confession curse, and I tried so hard to stay in denial and look for another way to lift it, to avoid destroying everything we have, but I couldn’t, so I decided I must leave and stop making things worse. Because that felt right. I couldn’t let your wish go to hell. And you somehow suggested that the feelings are not unreciprocated. This is what you said. This is what I think you said, anyway. Did you? That I shouldn’t worry about this. This is what just happened. It didn’t happen just in my head, did it?”

Lan Zhan shook his head, very slowly. 

“I don’t understand. What do you mean no? How?”

Lan Zhan’s hand was on his elbow now. Wei Wuxian realised it was supposed to help him stop shaking. To stabilise him. He was shivering. 

Lan Zhan gulped and looked at him. “Wei Ying. Your feelings are reciprocated. They aren’t unrequited. They were never unrequited.” 

Wei Wuxian’s mouth parted. Did he hit his head very hard somewhere between the Library Pavillon and where they were standing now, at the gate? 

“They were never… Lan Zhan? For how long… What the—? How long have you known? How long have you—?”

“I realised you… Caught on at some point, recently. I didn’t want to act on it. I wasn’t sure if you would want to act on it. I thought you didn’t, and that’s why you wanted to leave. I didn’t know it was about the curse. I knew something shifted after your talk with Sizhui, still, I thought it was just a confession curse, and that you didn’t want me to help anymore, because of something I did. My apologies.”

Wei Wuxian will start screaming. He was sure now.

“No! It’s not—no, never, Lan Zhan, you never did anything! Never! It just made me fucking miserable to see you after I figured out what was wrong with me, I couldn’t bear— No, Lan Zhan, it was never you, I’m sorry, you should not be the one apologising to me,” Wei Wuxian was panicking now, still held firmly by the elbow. “No, I’m—But you— When did you…? How? Are you telling me I didn’t— That all this time? And I didn’t notice? And Jiang Cheng was right? All this time?”

Now it was Lan Zhan’s turn to look taken aback. “Clan Leader Jiang? What does he have to do with it?”

“This is what we argued about, in the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian furrowed his brows and sighed, impatient. “He told me… I wasn’t being very subtle about… my feelings. That we both weren’t subtle. And I almost fought him, because I thought he was disrespecting you, somehow, I don’t know!”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan cut him, not unkindly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Wei Wuxian huffed. “Well, I know it now!”

But do I?

He still wasn’t sure what was happening. His expression dropped, again.

“But Lan Zhan… How long? Since when?”

It was quiet for a moment. Wei Wuxian never registered that it stopped snowing. All the snowflakes in Lan Zhan’s hair were gone.

Lan Zhan’s voice was quiet. “Long. Years. Feels like forever. I am sorry I did not come forward.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart jumped and broke at the same time. He will figure out how to mend it later.

His hand was on Lan Zhan’s face. Both his hands. He was cupping Lan Zhan’s cheeks. Only now did he notice the tears that made their way down. That he bit his lip. That his gaze was unsteady. 

“Oh, my Lan Zhan. Do not ever apologise to me again. Not about this. It wasn’t like I would understand, then. It’s not like I understand now, but now I will try. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you waited so long. It was me who led you on and didn’t tell you. How are you not mad at me ?”

“I am,” Lan Zhan admitted. “That you didn’t break the curse once you figured out how to. That you decided to suffer instead of cutting it short. But I would never be mad at you for anything else, Wei Ying. I can’t. I couldn’t. Do not apologise.”

Wei Wuxian used his thumbs to gather the tears, to smooth out the skin underneath. 

When their eyes met, Lan Zhan’s gaze was fierce. Wei Wuxian smiled at him. He realised it was the first time he was touching Lan Zhan’s face like this. He will have to forcefully make him stop.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, tone lighter than he had heard himself talk in days. “I might be awfully and quite disgustingly in love with you. Possibly. To be yet determined.”

Lan Zhan smiled at him. Really smiled at him. His lips curved upwards, his cheeks raised. “Good.”

Wei Wuxian gasped and let go of Lan Zhan’s face. He let his hands rest on his arms instead. “I just confessed to you and this is what you say to me? Good?! Hanguang-jun, you are unbelievable! When did you get so smug! I bet that little lady from that inn who wanted to offer you her services wouldn’t like that!”. Judging by Lan Zhan’s face, he had no idea who he was talking about. “And I was so ready to fight her. Right here and then. And I would, if not for the two polite gentlemen who decided to ruin our evening, La—”

Suddenly, a hand was on his mouth. Lan Zhan looked at him with dark eyes. 

“Wei Ying. I’m going to say this only once, and only now,” he said. “Stop talking.”

And then he took his hand, and their lips crushed.

It was so long overdue Wei Wuxian didn’t react at first, in complete shock. Caught off guard. 

But when he felt Lan Zhan hesitate and try to pull away, he quickly held his face again, and kissed him back. It was good. It was so good. It made every synapsis in Wei Wuxian’s brain malfunction. Lan Zhan smelled like always, sandalwood and incense, and he tasted like his awful tea. It was perfect. It felt better than he imagined it, although he never imagined it in a scenario like this.

How could he ever leave?

Lan Zhan’s hands were on his waist now, and Wei Wuxian’s knees almost bent. 

He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Like a hungry man, he licked into Lan Zhan’s mouth and his soul almost left his body when he heard him make a little sound in the back of his throat. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to hear every sound that Lan Zhan could make and three thousand more. 

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t near as careful and mellow as their conversation leading to it. It was passionate, and it was saliva, and it was teeth clanking, and loud breaths leaving them. Laboured, heavy breaths. 

Lan Zhan bit his lip, and Wei Wuxian felt his brain fry. He decided they must stop immediately or they will never leave this place. Snow or no snow, he was going to accidentally fall to the ground. He could only hope Lan Zhan accidentally lands directly on him. 

But Lan Zhan must have come to the same conclusion. With one final, apologetic lick over the cut on Wei Wuxian’s lip, he pulled away. They exchanged looks like they saw each other for the first time in their lives.

“You are stunning.”

To Wei Wuxian’s surprise, the words did not leave his mouth. They left Lan Zhan’s.

He could only muster a small smile, but it was a sincere one. In none of his two lives did he ever expect to hear those words from Lan Zhan.

“So are you, Hanguang-jun,” he said and placed a chaste kiss on Lan Zhan’s lips. And then another one. And one more, simply because he could. “So are you.”

He felt light-headed.

Lan Zhan’s expression was something he thought poets would die for. If he was a poet, he would.

They looked at each other for a second more, and then Wei Wuxian hid his face in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. This was where he was going to live. 

They hugged, because it was what they did. They hugged. Embraced. Cuddled. 

Wei Wuxian was too stunned to realise the full picture, but it did cross his mind that it was going to be their new normal. This all, plus kissing. Biting. Touching. He wanted to touch Lan Zhan so badly, and he wanted Lan Zhan to touch him even more. 

This was going to be their new normal, because he confessed, and the world didn’t come crashing down on him. The world smelled of sandalwood and radiated warmth, and currently held him in his arms.

It made his vision spin again to know that they can have this. 

“I think that concludes the curse, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said solemnly, and Wei Wuxian laughed. Heartily. Loudly. He squeezed Lan Zhan one more time, and they separated.

Lan Zhan looked him in the eye and held his hand out.

“Come home, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian held his warm hand.

And like this, they went home. 

And they did not go to sleep, not until sunrise.

And if Lan Zhan cancelled all of his classes, meetings, and other duties the next day, nobody asked. 

They had lost time to make up for. They had a curse removal to celebrate. Words, feelings, and areas yet to be discovered.

***

Wei Wuxian made one, final discovery for the time being.

His life before and after the confession curse was lifted definitely differed. But at the same time, it did not. 

It was still, luckily, a very Lan Zhan-filled life. The difference was they were both aware and acknowledged.

Humming the same melody, Wei Wuxian felt like saying.

They fell into their old routine, only updated. Adjusted to their current needs. Lan Zhan’s face was still the first thing Wei Wuxian saw in the morning, with the difference that he could shamelessly kiss it, now. Wei Wuxian’s clothes were still in Lan Zhan’s closet, except now it was already their closet, with the sleeping robes already mixed up due to the number of times they randomly and hurriedly put any of them on upon realising someone was approaching the Jingshi. 

They renewed their evening strolls tradition, with the difference that they were holding hands while walking — or rather, Wei Wuxian kept Lan Zhan’s hands in the pocket of his coat, because it was still so damn cold. They visited Caiyi together, and had tea there — sometimes something sweet with it, because Wei Wuxian was a whiny brat and concluded that his body needs more sugar in winter. And if there was any sugar left on his lips, Lan Zhan would sweep it with his finger, disregarding the looks they were getting from people. 

This didn’t change, Wei Wuxian thought. Lan Zhan just couldn’t be bothered. Same way he couldn’t be stopped from buying little trinkets for Wei Wuxian and getting a bright, exclusively intimate smile in return. An affectionate pat on the cheek. A squeeze of the forearm that could be perceived as friendly if not for the duration of it, and for the fact that Wei Wuxian’s hand wouldn’t leave his arm afterwards.

It took them a few days to come to terms with the new dynamics and with everything that followed. At some point, very soon after the confession, they had to announce that the curse was no more. They spent some time debating about the verbiage: should they be straightforward and completely honest, or should they just tell everybody as much that the danger is gone, that they figured out the way to lift the curse?

They decided to go slow, but steady. Lan Zhan wouldn’t settle for less. Wei Wuxian was surprised to find out he was the more cautious one.

“Let them know.” Lan Zhan was stubborn, and proud. Wei Wuxian’s heart was a weak opponent, as it turned out. “Unless you don’t want to, Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s face was mere centimetres away in the darkness of the Jinghsi. His hand was grazing Wei Wuxian’s jaw, his thumb tracing along his lower lip. 

What a ridiculous question.

They started off by telling the juniors. It was on Wei Wuxian to tell them that they can stop worrying and cease their work on the curse. Jingyi reacted with a furrow of his brows and an incoherent sound coming from the back of his throat, Sizhui tilted his head the same way Lan Zhan was in the habit of. Wei Wuxian had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing like an insane person would. He was supposed to convince everybody that he was free of the curse, not struck with another spell.

Which, metaphorically speaking, he was. 

He nodded at the duo calling after him and hurriedly left the classroom where they met.

(Jingyi’s confusion and Sizhui’s suspicions were both short-lived. It took one visit to the Jingshi in the middle of preparation for an upcoming night hunt for Jingyi to knit his brows together after stepping through the door. He frowned. Sizhui’s eyes widened slightly, but it was Jingyi who spoke. “Good morning, Hanguang-jun—senior Wei, are you leaving again? Why? What happened?” “What? What are you talking about, Jingyi, why would I leave? Sizhui, is Jingyi alright?” “Of course I’m fine, what are you saying! I’m just talking about the bed!” “What about the bed, Jingyi?” “Oh, uhm, Hanguang-jun—it’s gone, that’s what I meant. There were two beds here, right?” “Oh. Do not fret, Jingyi, I’m not leaving, not the Jingshi, nor the Cloud Recesses.” “But your bed is gone! Are you sleeping on the floor, or something? Or is  Hanguang-jun—?” “Jingyi, we should go…” “Nobody is sleeping on the floor, Jingyi.” “Then how—Oh.” “ Oh indeed.” “Uhm. We will go now, Hanguang-jun. Senior Wei. We will write to you once we arrive at Xi village.” “Thank you, Sizhui. Safe travels. Jingyi, close your mouth, please.”)

Lan Zhan had the incomparably more difficult task of informing his brother (not that bad) and his uncle (very, very bad). While they didn’t yet put a name to what and who they became (the sole thought of it made Wei Wuxian’s stomach flip), and agreed that they do not need to announce themselves (we’re a package deal now, Wei Wuxian thought, and then he realised that this bit didn’t change; they were always a package deal) to the entire cultivation world, they also agreed that Lan Zhan’s closest family is excluded from this rule. They must know, and they must know in detail.

It was, quite obviously, due to the fact that Wei Wuxian wasn’t planning on moving out of the Cloud Recesses anytime in the foreseeable future, save for the travels he and Lan Zhan already planned. He could only hope Lan Qiren won’t kick him out by the robes himself. He could only hope he had gained enough of his trust in the last few weeks to let him stay… or that Lan Xichen liked him enough to allow for that.

As expected from Lan Zhan’s brother, Wei Wuxian needed not worry about his approval. He was only glad to acquire a great and reliable talisman teacher full-time, and a companion — for the disciples in busier times, for himself, and for his brother, of course. He seemed genuine. 

Besides, Wei Wuxian kept this thought to himself, he believed that Lan Xichen was not physically capable of disagreeing with anything that made his brother happy (and to think that he was what made Lan Zhan happy made his heart race.)

What did spark Wei Wuxian’s interest, however, was the absolute lack of any surprise on Lan Xichen’s face when Lan Zhan broke the news to him. When Lan Zhan gave a report on his task back in the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian began wondering if they really had been that obvious. He was busy brushing Lan Zhan’s hair, but his hand stilled upon hearing this part. Lan Zhan definitely noticed, but kindly enough, didn’t ask. 

Perhaps he was wondering about the same thing.

Lan Qiren wasn’t half as content as neither of his nephews. Wei Wuxian never got to know what he and Lan Zhan exactly talked about, but he knew Lan Zhan well enough to know it didn’t go very well. He had suggested they go together, but Lan Zhan politely declined, saying it would be better if he went alone. Now, Wei Wuxian regretted leaving him with this.

“Wei Ying,” as if reading his mind, Lan Zhan spoke quietly. “It would not make a difference if you had gone with me. Uncle will get used to this. Don’t worry.” 

Wei Wuxian could only nod; it wasn’t a matter for discussion. He could only make Lan Zhan a fresh tea and play a calming, sweet song while he drank it. He could only disrobe him gently, layer by layer, caressing his skin where the scar tissue showed with his fingers, barely touching it. He could only run him a steaming hot bath – the winter would not let go – and give him a head massage, kneeling behind the tub. He could only kiss his temple, his jaw, his cheeks and his eyelids, allowing him to sigh loudly in a very uncharacteristic way for the Lans, hoping the weariness will be gone by the morning. He could only let him have him, the way he’d want him to be. The way they both wanted this to be, because they wanted the same.

Wei Wuxian could only refrain from asking Lan Zhan the unpleasant questions, only if for the night, because it was a privilege they could afford. It was a privilege and a sign of faith he was once entrusted with, too. He could help Lan Zhan go through the night peacefully, because they had an infinite number of those. Talking could wait. 

Ironic, wasn’t it?

Falling asleep, it crossed Wei Wuxian’s mind that the only good thing was that Lan Qiren hadn’t thought of punishing Lan Zhan. That Lan Zhan would never get punished again for what he stood for, because they all were past the stage when this would be allowed. That the time when it would was long gone, and long over, and he would personally see to it himself that it never repeats again. 

He would not allow for that. He would not allow for any more reprimands to be issued. For any tongue to raise against Lan Zhan. He would not allow a single more blow to be delivered.

Wei Wuxian would not take the blow himself, no. He would make everyone involved in the process regret ever thinking of it, instead. Regret even thinking about raising a hand to Lan Zhan. No matter who it would be, or what justification they would provide; he couldn’t care less. He would fight the entire cultivation world again, if need be. He would make them regret, and regret sincerely, profoundly. He would make them repent — in this life, in another, and in every next they would be graciously granted. If they would be granted another, that is.

He was a demonic cultivator, after all. It was only his kind and forgiving nature keeping him from living up to his name. But for Lan Zhan, he could. He would. Even if Lan Zhan wouldn’t want that. 

For as long as he was there — and he was finally, finally where and how he should be — there was not a single force in the universe that could separate them again. 

Strangely, Wei Wuxian knew perfectly well that Lan Zhan shared the same possessive, confident sentiment. 

(“Lan Zhan. What did your uncle say the other day? You know, when you told him?” “Nothing worth repeating, Wei Ying. And he is going to reconsider. Don’t worry.” “Lan Zhan! You always tell me not to worry, do you think it actually makes me worry less? Tell me at least if you two are good… or what your brother thinks of it, I don’t know, I—” “We are good. It has all been already settled, uncle will have to live with it. And he will come to understand. Brother is happy. Eat now, Wei Ying.” “But Lan Zhan, I would hate the idea of you being cross with your family because of me, it’s happened too man—”. “Wei Ying. Do you not trust me when I tell you that it is going to be alright?” “I do! But, Lan Zhan—” “Sweetheart. Eat.” “...Okay.”)

***

If there were any outstanding tasks, Wei Wuxian knew it was one for him.

It felt awkward, but it was also the right thing to do. And it was something he, for once, believed was a generally good idea, not only in his head. Ideas that seemed good in his head were most often not good ideas, after all.

He wrote a letter to Jiang Cheng. It was neither detailed nor emotional — he knew Jiang Cheng would hate it more if it was. He tried to keep the tone simple and light-hearted; he knew the recipient was going to read between the lines and understand where he was coming from. More or less, Wei Wuxian wrote that his brother was right, and that he deserved acknowledgement for this. 

He did not write how exactly he and Lan Zhan came to the realisation, but he figured it would be impossible to skip the part about the curse (Lan Zhan convinced him that it was necessary to tell Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian could not really argue with him). He wrote that, however late, he and Lan Zhan were on the same page now (“Ha-ha, Jiang Cheng, do you get this? On the same page?”), and the curse actually helped them, and that he was generally super cool and fine and there was no danger looming over him nor were there any more bounties on his head, and that he was, like, better than ever. Which was true.

He could only hope he sounded convincing. 

The response came quickly and suddenly — it was delivered during dinner he, Lan Zhan, and Lan Xichen were having. Lan Xichen politely excused himself and left right after finishing eating upon seeing the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face and the concern painted on Lan Zhan’s. 

Surprised and not surrounded by the comfort of the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian thought it was absurd of him to feel so anxious, but his hand trembled only slightly when he hurriedly opened the letter from Jiang Cheng. He felt Lan Zhan’s eyes plastered carefully on the paper.

The response was short:

Wei Wuxian,

If you write to me one more time with the news of your another near-death experience (i.e., a curse), I will make sure none of your letters come through to the Lotus Pier again and I will revert all postal costs to the Gusu Lan Clan expenses. 

You are an idiot. So is Hanguang-jun.

I could not be happier to know that you found one another. 

JC

Wei Wuxian read the letter multiple times, and he smiled. He laughed, actually. He crumbled it in his hand and giggled, his eyes only somewhat wet. He exchanged looks with Lan Zhan – his expression wasn’t half as amused as his, but he didn’t say anything. Seemingly, he wasn’t mad at the offence, either. He just seemed puzzled, as he usually was when it came to Jiang Cheng.

But before they could say anything, another disciple appeared at the door and bowed to them deeply. Wei Wuxian furrowed his brows.

“Minyao,” Lan Zhan asked. “What is this?”

“Hanguang-jun, senior Wei,” Minyao approached them swiftly. “A letter for you.”

Wei Wuxian reached to grab the letter, but Mianyao shot him an apologetic look.

“My apologies for the confusion. It’s for you, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan reached for the letter automatically, but his expressionless face didn’t budge at all. Wei Wuxian furrowed his brows harder.

“Lan Zhan? Who sent it?”

“I do not know,” Lan Zhan replied, opening the letter. “It does not say. There is nothing written on the envelope but my name.” 

Indeed, the envelope was not addressed properly: Lan Zhan’s name was stated very clearly and carefully, but there was nothing besides that. Even stranger, there was no letter. 

When Wei Wuxian made a surprised sound and opened his mouth to say that it must have been a mistake, Lan Zhan turned the envelope upside down and caught what fell from it.

It was a red ribbon.

Wei Wuxian immediately knew it wasn’t his red ribbon; the old one was slightly burned, shorter. Considerably more worn-out.

This one was brand new and silk. 

Stunned, he was lacking words. 

Why?, he could probably ask. He did not. 

When he looked at Lan Zhan, he noticed that – at last – his expression changed.

He was smiling when he carefully folded the ribbon and hid it in his pocket.

***

The winters in Gusu really were cold, Wei Wuxian agreed with that. Having lived through it, he could personally account for it and admit that everyone who told him that was right.

But all he was thinking about now was that nobody warned him how breathtakingly beautiful spring would arrive after a winter so harsh. 

He never took notice of this before, and had been in the Cloud Recesses during multiple springs and summers before. He didn’t know if it was this particular spring that was just peculiar, or if the change lay somewhere else. 

Nonetheless, every morning he woke up, stunned to see the warm light falling in, the green of the surroundings. Every evening during the walk, he would purposefully drag Lan Zhan the longer way back. Every possibility encountered, he took the disciples to test the new talismans and flags in the woods, in the clearings, by the lake; in the sun, and fighting with the wind, and escaping from the spring showers. 

Running for his life like crazy, only to fall into Lan Zhan’s arms somewhere on the way, because Lan Zhan knew Wei Wuxian disregarded the presence of umbrellas whatsoever, and that he would rather get wet than carry it. 

So he carried two, whenever they went out together. 

And if they didn’t, he just always happened to be around the corner, to catch him. To hear his laboured exhales through the weak giggles as he struggled to catch his breath. To eye his muddy robes, especially when Wei Wuxian decided it was the white robes day (he knew Lan Zhan liked it when he wore those, and he grew to like them a lot, too). Wei Wuxian could only send him an apologetic look and grin. Lan Zhan could only wipe the smile off with a kiss.

This one time, Wei Wuxian observed the rain falling down in the Cloud Recesses from the warm and dry Jingshi, as he decided it was time to embark again.

Even if the curse was lifted, he still owed some people an explanation. A visit. A talk, and an embrace.

He and Lan Zhan were packing to leave for Lanling come next morning.

While Lan Zhan was carefully and meticulously packing what they needed, Wei Wuxian paced around the Jingshi, bringing havoc and chaos, because he was too fidgety to actually help, and because he was busy  happily babbling and it occupied his brain too much to care about clothes or food or other unnecessary things. 

“...and when we leave Lanling, Lan Zhan, perhaps we could go and find this one city I told you about, the one with the pink rains? I know it was totally at the end of the world, I don’t even remember how I got there, but I remember the phenomena I told you about once must have happened sometime around late spring and you just have to see it, it was so beautiful, Lan Zhan, I want to see it again, too, what do you say? Should we try? I mean, I know you’re busy, but it would be so fun, imagine all the night hunts we could take up on the way there, there are probably various spirits we haven’t encountered yet, it could be actually of great educational importance—”

“Wei Ying. You know you do not have to convince me,” Lan Zhan said in a soft tone and dragged him to the table set for tea. Wei Wuxian didn’t even notice when he finished packing.

He beamed. “Wonderful! This is going to be so fun, Lan Zhan. And I can’t wait to see Jin Ling, by the way.”

Lan Zhan took a sip of his tea and nodded. Wei Wuxian suddenly thought he was being suspiciously quiet today.

“Lan Zhan,” he nudged. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan nodded again, but when their eyes met, his expression was rather serious. “I just… Made a small discovery.”

“Huh? About what? The town? Would be great, because I can’t remember its name for shit —”

“No,” another sip of tea. “About your curse.”

Wei Wuxian was definitely curious, if not a bit worried, now.

“About the curse? It’s been so long, what did you find out about it, Lan Zhan? And why now?”

“I was trying to find out who might have cursed you,” Lan Zhan admitted, somehow shy. Wei Wuxian sighed.

“And did you?”

After a moment of silence, “Partially. I did find out what is different about the city of Pingyang than we initially thought.”

“Hm? What is up with this city?” Wei Wuxian furrowed his brows and drank some of Lan Zhan’s tea. 

How could they miss anything?

“Nothing at present. It most definitely is a Yao territory. But I have found some historical records that we skipped, because they talk about the geography and administration of the region only. It turns out that Pingyang was ruled by the Qinghe Nie clan longer than it has been by the Yao Clan. It is not necessarily a widespread knowledge, but a few dynasties back the city was divided between the two clans and finally won over by the Yaos during a war. It wasn’t a particularly difficult situation for its people, it was mostly a matter of politics and hereditary issues, so it was never described in detail.”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze wasn’t leaving Lan Zhan’s face. He fell silent.

So it was Qinghe, after all.

“However,” Lan Zhan said intently. “I think it is safe to assume that although it is purely a Yao city now, the Nie clan might have some… influence over it. For sure a common practice is to keep a supervisory office, official or not. It would be a great loss for the Nie Clan to lose sight of what is happening in such a strategically unique place that they used to control once. I doubt whether they ever lost track of what was happening in the city. Both externally and internally.”

What a polite and politically correct way to talk about espionage, Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian smiled. They were silent for a few minutes, interrupted only by the sounds of the rain and tea being poured.

“I believe,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “That we could add a stop in Qinghe to our travel plan, Lan Zhan. I think it’s high time to pay an old friend a visit.”

Lan Zhan looked at him quizzically.

“Do you wish to confront him?”

“No, love. I wish to bring him flowers.”

Chapter Text

…this is a shameless advertisement that i will delete, most likely. Don’t mind me if you’re not interested!!!

i am Writing again (i’m sorry) (you’re welcome?) and let me just say, i’m rather happy about it. i am.

so, feel free to read & comment “ya’aburnee” if you’re interested! and if you’re not, that’s fine!

https://ao3-rd-8.onrender.com/works/60972283/chapters/155760835

thank you for reading apostle! that means the world to me, as it was my first Thing to publish and inspired me to writing more. so - thank you doesn’t seem enough.

i know it’s not a very popular practice to yap in a separate chapter of a fic long finished, but who cares i guess!!!

merry christmas, happy holidays, happy new year. take care xx

edit: oh. there's also continuation to ya'aburnee now, and it's my favourite thing that i have written (Wild). thought i'd mention. enjoy spring?