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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian was always beautiful and infuriating, but Lan Wangji can’t think of a time that he was more beautiful or more infuriating than he was now: wet and bedraggled and distraught and determined to do the right thing and damn all the costs to himself. Lan Wangji’s heart swells with equal parts pride and longing and frustration and despair as he quickly thinks through the options here.

The people following Wei Wuxian on horseback are even more bedraggled than he is; even in the dark and the pouring rain Lan Wangji can tell at a glance that these are not dangerous Wen Sect cultivators but tired, frightened servants, retainers and peasants. There are old men, grandmothers, and even at least one very small child that had been held in the Jin Sect’s secret prison camp. No wonder Wei Wuxian has taken it upon himself to free them. Lan Wangji can only imagine the pure, burning rage his Wei Ying must have felt when he discovered their situation. Such rage could only be matched by the pure, burning love for Wei Ying in Lan Wangji’s heart at this moment.

What Lan Wangji actually says is “Where are you going?” Not “let me help” or “take me with you” or “I love you” or any of the other words currently clogging his chest and making it difficult to speak (or, indeed, breathe) at all.

“I have no idea. But the world is wide. There must be a place for us.”

“You need to think again. If you go, it will be considered a rebellion against orthodoxy, with no way back.” Lan Wangji knows he has said exactly the wrong thing again, but he has never been so frightened for Wei Wuxian as he is right now. What can he do besides remind his friend of the consequences he faces?

Incredulous, Wei Wuxian replies, “Rebellion against orthodoxy? What kind of orthodoxy is that? Lan Zhan, do you still remember the promise we made together?”

Lan Wangji does, in fact, remember the promises they shared, could never forget, has every word seared into his heart. Currently, he feels as if every letter of those vows is simultaneously aflame in his chest. He might actually be dying, to be honest. He can feel tears starting to gather in the corners of his eyes, and he considers dropping his umbrella to let the rain wash them away and cool the fire that feels like it’s about to consume him from the inside out.

“Wei Ying,” he whispers helplessly. “I –“

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian sounds like he’s choking on the words. “If I have to fight against everyone, I’d rather fight with you. If I must die, let it be at your hand and I would be content.”

This is the opposite of what Lan Wangji wants.

“Wei Ying.” This time Lan Wangji’s voice is quietly firm as he’s filled with the certainty of what he must do next. “Come down from your horse.”

Wei Wuxian is nonplussed, and Lan Wangji almost smiles. He knows this giddy feeling probably isn’t a good sign that he’s making a wise choice, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Wei Ying make quite the face that he’s making right now: amazement, a frisson of distrust and doubt, coupled with a silence that lasts so long (a literally unprecedented length of time for Wei Wuxian to spend without speaking) it begins to make Lan Wangji worry a little.

Finally, Wei Wuxian dismounts, and Lan Wangji steps nearer.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian lifts his arm straight in front of him, holding Chenqing in his fist as if to ward off Lan Wangji, who only continues to move closer. He’s not looking at Lan Wangji now. His eyes are downcast, and his whole body is stiff and closed off, every part of him except his mouth shouting at Lan Wangji to keep his distance.

“Wei Ying.”

At some point, Lan Wangji has let his umbrella drop to his side, and now he lets it fall from his hand entirely. He’s already soaked to the skin, but it turns out that even the cold rain isn’t enough to cool the heat in his chest that is fueling whatever he’s about to do. (He’s not entirely certain, now that it comes time to actually act, though with every step he takes closer to Wei Wuxian he has a better idea.) He is sure that, by now, he’s approximately as bedraggled as Wei Ying, but he doesn’t care, although he’s usually a vain and fastidious man.
Wei Wuxian’s arm is shaking when Lan Wangji grabs his wrist, and he gasps—almost a sob—when Lan Wangji pulls him into a crushing embrace.

“Wei Ying.” Almost a whisper. Lan Wangji has never been quite this close to Wei Wuxian, and he didn’t completely know he was going to be now until he actually did the thing. Now that it’s done, he never wants to not be this close to Wei Wuxian. “We can do this together.”

Wei Wuxian makes a strangled noise and pushes Lan Wangji away so he can stare at him in shock.

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this alone, Wei Ying. We can go to Cloud Recesses—” as soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Wangji pauses, suddenly unsure, or, rather, very sure that they would not receive a favorable reception in Gusu. His brother had done nothing to stop the persecution of the Wen remnants, and his uncle’s dislike of Wei Wuxian has only deepened into hatred with every revelation of Wei Wuxian’s unconventional—and in Lan Qiren’s eyes, heretical—cultivation methods. He can already see the objection in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, so Lan Wangji finishes lamely: “Just… take me with you.”

Wei Wuxian has been looking at Lan Wangji as if he’s sprouted a second (or even third) head, but now his eyes widen, if possible, even further than they already were.

“Lan Zhan.”

Under other circumstances, Lan Wangji might have been pleased to have reduced Wei Wuxian to near speechlessness, but right now what he wants more than anything is for Wei Wuxian to have a plan so that he, Lan Wangji, doesn’t have to come up with one. Since he clearly is terrible at it.

Instead of offering a solution to their problem, Wei Wuxian takes a step back towards Lan Wangji. This time, it’s Wei Wuxian who grabs Lan Wangji. The two men are nearly of a height with each other, and this makes it easy for Wei Wuxian to wrap his arms about Lan Wangji and press his mouth—clumsily, hungrily—to his. For a moment, Lan Wangji feels as if time has stopped altogether, and then he is bringing his own arms up to cup Wei Wuxian’s face in his hands as he tilts his head, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss by pressing his tongue into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, tentatively at first and then with increasing confidence as Wei Wuxian moans deep in his throat. Sooner than he’d like, Lan Wangji breaks away.

“Wei Ying,” he whispers. “We cannot stay here any longer. We have to go somewhere and soon.”

Both of them are breathing hard, their hearts beating like war drums. Lan Wangji can see a great deal of the tenseness melt out of Wei Wuxian when he makes a decision. He loves to see Wei Wuxian being decisive, he realizes.

“The Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian says. “We’ll go to the Burial Mounds.”

To Lan Wangji’s ears he sounds very certain.

The ride to the Burial Mounds seems at once a blur and not nearly fast enough, as Lan Wangji knows that by now his own absence must have been noticed in addition to Wei Wuxian’s liberation of the Wen remnants. People will be looking for them. Probably already are. Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem worried now that they have something like a plan, but Lan Wangji is. Very much so.

Wen Qing wakes up the first morning out of Lanling, and Lan Wangji is both gratified and concerned that she shares his worries. She is skeptical of Wei Wuxian’s Burial Mounds idea and says so, and Lan Wangji is pleased that her questions force Wei Wuxian to articulate his plans. At the same time, he is horrified to find out how much Wei Wuxian has kept from him about the three months he was missing before returning with Chenqing in hand and a darkness clouding his spirit. As Wei Wuxian explains his plans, each new revelation of something that happened during that missing time—casually shared now (Wei Wuxian has never forgone an opportunity to show off knowledge, and he is proving himself to be an expert on what they should expect from the Burial Mounds)—makes Lan Wangji a little colder with fear and worry for his friend and for all of the people they have taken responsibility for.

He thinks “friend” is still the word for what he and Wei Wuxian are to each other. After the kiss in the rain on Qiongqi Way, they have not touched again, riding separate horses during the day, sleeping on opposite ends of their camps each night, keeping watch in separate shifts, and they haven’t spoken alone since they left Lanling. Obviously, it feels as if some status of their relationship has changed, but there’s been no time to discuss it. Their days have simply been too consumed with survival for them to talk about feelings.

It’s not that Lan Wangji thinks that his feelings are more important than the immediate future of the people he has now committed himself to helping protect. It’s just that he is so full of feelings literally all the time, and there’s not really a reasonable outlet for it right now. The lack of privacy, just in general, is already starting to wear on him, and this isn’t helped by the fact that the orphaned child, Wen Yuan, seems to have attached himself to Lan Wangji like, well, like something that has quickly become beloved but is also inconveniently demanding of Lan Wangji’s time and energy and quiet affection. If Lan Wangji has any misgivings about caring for a-Yuan, however, he is comforted by Wei Wuxian’s obvious approval; several times a day, Lan Wangji catches Wei Wuxian watching him—with a soft look on his sharp face—when he thinks Lan Wangji is too absorbed by a-Yuan to notice.

Lan Wangji is always noticing Wei Wuxian, however.

These days, he mostly notices how brilliant and capable and kind Wei Wuxian is. How Wei Wuxian always seems to know what the next thing to do is. He makes friends of every auntie and uncle, asking their advice and calming their fears and urging them onwards throughout their journey. Even though everyone is footsore and weary, Wei Wuxian is positively indefatigable. It’s been less than a week, and Lan Wangji can tell that these people would follow Wei Wuxian anywhere. Lan Wangji often finds himself paralyzed by indecision and doubt, and he has always struggled to make friends (except for Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan). As far as he is concerned, Wei Wuxian is magic, and he knows that, like the Wen survivors, he would also follow Wei Wuxian anywhere he led.

Lan Wangji tries to be content with his own contribution of restful songs on his qin each night as the group settles in to sleep, and he finds his own comfort in the smiles that his songs earn from Wei Wuxian. That’s going to have to be enough for now.

Lan Wangji isn’t sure what he expected the Burial Mounds to be like. The place Wei Wuxian guides them to is not very deep into the region, only a couple of hours’ brisk walk from Yiling, actually. They sell their horses to a farmer near the city who doesn’t ask many questions before they continue by foot up a winding mountain path and through a dark and gloomy forest. Lan Wangji expected the gloom and the way that the sun doesn’t seem to shine in this place, and he expected the simmering of resentful energy that suffused the place. What he didn’t expect was the melancholy. There’s an abiding sadness and feeling of longing intertwined with the resentment, but what Lan Wangji finds most striking about it is that it feels familiar. It reminds him of Wei Wuxian, and he thinks that, perhaps, Wei Wuxian has left a mark on this place just as surely as it has changed Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji also wasn’t expecting his own feelings about this place. Certainly, it’s dark and gloomy—and gloomier the farther they hike up the mountain from Yiling—but he has to admit that the place has a certain wild beauty to it. If the ruined trees are gnarled, they are nevertheless tall and gracefully so. There is a silent dignity to them that Lan Wangji appreciates, although the complete absence of birdsong and other sounds of a healthy wood is unsettling. Still, as he follows Wei Wuxian along what can only very generously be termed a path, he sees occasional flashes of color. There are fruit trees here and even a few wildflowers, the remains of land that was once meticulously and beautifully cultivated. Once, he even spies the white flicker of a small animal’s tail rustling through the underbrush to prove that the landscape isn’t completely lifeless.

Wei Wuxian holds little a-Yuan’s hand most of the way, adopting a leisurely pace as he chats amiably with the child and points out things of interest as they walk. Lan Wangji is charmed; it’s difficult to reconcile this image of gentle domesticity with the Wei Wuxian who arrived from nowhere in a cloud of resentful energy to hunt and torture Wen Chao. It’s even harder to reconcile this Wei Wuxian with the angry and viciously vengeful Wei Wuxian who unleashed Wen Ning on the Jin sect’s prison camp in order to free the people who had been kept there.
Lan Wangji thinks about the contrasts between these versions of Wei Wuxian a lot. A lot. Especially as they arrive at their destination, which is, apparently, the ruined remains of something like a palace or a fortress or a temple. Wei Wuxian has already named the place—tongue firmly in cheek, he calls it “Demon-Subdue Palace.”

“Get it, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian grins, jostling Lan Wangji with an elbow as they stand in front of the fortress, surrounded by the desiccated remains of what appear to be cherry trees lining what used to be a stately courtyard. “The demon is me. Though who’s to say if I’ve actually been subdued, huh?” This accompanied by a lewd wink that only Lan Wangji witnesses.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies, looking around the place and steadfastly ignoring Wei Wuxian’s suggestive tone. If Wei Wuxian knew how much it affected Lan Wangji, he would never stop using that tone of voice.

The inside of Demon-Subdue Palace is… well, it’s dry, more or less. Lan Wangji figures that sleeping here will beat sleeping entirely out of doors, exposed to the elements. And it’s defensible. There is an actual door to the space that will be their living quarters until they can build something else, and the whole place will be easy enough to surround with wards. Between Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Wen Qing, their skills should certainly be up to the task. Nothing and no one should get in without them knowing.

Wei Wuxian picks up a-Yuan and deposits him in Lan Wangji’s arms so Wei Wuxian can work with Wen Qing to find a comfortable place to lay Wen Ning’s still body and to settle the rest of the Wens in the large, open entry room of Demon-Subdue Palace so they can rest for the night. It’s gotten late, and Lan Wangji has stood quietly in an out-of-the-way corner of the room for long enough that a-Yuan has fallen asleep in his arms. The elderly woman who might be the child’s grandmother comes to take a-Yuan away from him, and Lan Wangji reluctantly releases the boy into her care; A-Yuan barely stirs as he’s handed over. Without the child to hold, Lan Wangji feels superfluous, suddenly extremely aware of how little his education has prepared him to be at all useful in circumstances like the ones in which he now finds himself.

Still, as he carefully hands a-Yuan over to Granny Wen, Lan Wangji looks across the room to see Wei Wuxian looking at him with something like a smile in his eyes. Once everyone is settled and Wen Qing has been forced/allowed to rest—holding Wen Ning’s hand and drooling slightly where she’s passed out with her head resting on the too-hard bed Wen Ning has been laid upon—Wei Wuxian comes to retrieve Lan Wangji from the quiet corner he’s been loitering in.

“Lan Zhan. You must be dead on your feet,” Wei Wuxian says softly, taking Lan Wangji’s hand and drawing him further into the cavernous depths of the mountain fortress. “I’m absolutely certain that it’s past nine o’clock.”

Lan Wangji huffs a little at this, but he appreciates the solicitous concern that Wei Wuxian is masking with a little humor, and he’s anxious to be alone with his… whatever Wei Wuxian is to him now. He laces his fingers between Wei Wuxian’s and allows himself to be pulled along through some twisting corridors to a set of chambers carved into the interior of the mountain and that have—a true luxury—a door with a lock on it.

“You know this place,” Lan Wangji states as Wei Wuxian uses a few talismans to illuminate the room, revealing a space that is tidier than Lan Wangji expected anything in the Burial Mounds to be.

“I survived here for three months,” Wei Wuxian replies with a shrug. “I had to sleep somewhere.”

“Here?”

Lan Wangji isn’t surprised, exactly, not at this point, but locking door aside, these chambers are woefully sparse on furnishings. There’s not even a proper bed, just a wide, low stone platform about which the only good thing to say is that it is dry and basically clean. The rest of the room is, charitably, cluttered and full of dust and more cobwebs than Lan Wangji is strictly comfortable around. He can see, however, the remains of Wei Wuxian’s residence here—books and papers strewn about along with unfinished and discarded talismans, many of which Lan Wangji doesn’t recognize. Wei Wuxian had told Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin once that he had found a cave full of rare books abandoned by a reclusive master, and it seemed that this was at least partly true, after all.

“I didn’t sleep very much.” Wei Wuxian smiles a little, but Lan Wangji notices that the smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Wei Ying.”

“I was busy! Surviving in such an inhospitable environment is extremely time consuming! And when I found this place—its library—I just wanted to learn as much as I could as quickly as possible so I could return to you—” Wei Wuxian pauses, coughs a little, embarrassed, “so I could get back to help fight Wen Ruohan.”

Wei Wuxian is pacing a little in agitation now, and Lan Wangji wants to do… something… to calm him down. Before Lan Wangji commits to a course of action, however, Wei Wuxian stops, suddenly remembering the hour.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. “We will talk in the morning. Come, come, bedtime for you!”

He grabs Lan Wangji’s hand and pulls him towards the stone platform that will have to serve as a bed. Lan Wangji is made to sit, and Wei Wuxian busies himself with carefully but gently undoing Lan Wangji’s elaborate hairstyle and then methodically divesting him of all but one of his many layers of clothing, taking care to fold each layer as he sets it aside. If Lan Wangji was charmed by Wei Wuxian’s easy interactions with a-Yuan, he is nearly overcome with affection now. If he wasn’t actually exhausted, he would be overcome with pure, burning lust when Wei Wuxian shrugs out of most of his own layers—down to just a red shift and thin black silk pants—with one casual motion, leaving a puddle of cloth on the floor of the cave.

Instead, Lan Wangji simply sighs and allows Wei Wuxian to arrange him flat on his back on the stone, using the stack of folded robes as a pillow. The cold hardness of the stone is unpleasant but not unbearable, and Lan Wangji can already tell that he’s going to slip off to sleep any moment regardless. His final surprise of the evening, though, is Wei Wuxian laying down next to him, resting his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and one hand over Lan Wangji’s heart. For a moment, Lan Wangji thinks that he may never sleep again, because this feeling, whatever it is, is going to actually kill him, but then Wei Wuxian snuggles closer, pressing his body flush along Lan Wangji’s side and letting out a sigh of his own, and they both pass out.

Chapter Text

When Lan Wangji wakes up, he is surprised (to say the absolute least) to find that Wei Wuxian is already awake. And dressed. And watching him from across the room where he is studiously trying to look like he’s picking up and organizing all the stray papers and not like he’s been watching Lan Wangji sleep. It’s adorable, and Lan Wangji very nearly smiles.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “You must have been really tired to sleep so late. It’s nearly nine!”

“What.” Lan Wangji blushes clear to the tips of his ears and scrambles to sit up, wincing a little at the stiffness caused by sleeping on such a hard surface.

The truth, of course, is that Lan Wangji was tired and is still tired, but he’s also frightened and worried now that the reality of their situation is starting to sink in. It’s all well and good to, on the spur of the moment, in driving rain, in the middle of the night, romantically run away with man you love—because of course he loves Wei Wuxian, though he hasn’t said it aloud yet—on a noble quest to rescue and preserve the survivors of an atrocity, but at some point you have to consider the logistics of that preservation. It’s early in the day, but Lan Wangji is already starting to feel overwhelmed by thinking about the problems that they will have to solve in order to make this work.

“Wei Ying. What have we done?” His own previous words, “rebellion against orthodoxy,” won’t stop repeating themselves in Lan Wangji’s head; he can already feel a stress headache coming on, and his chest hurts.

Wei Wuxian stops fussing with papers and moves with a fluid motion to Lan Wangji’s side to grab his hand and look earnestly into his eyes.

“Lan Zhan, we had to save the Wens. It wasn’t right, what was being done to these people, and no one else cared. Wen Qing and her brother helped us during the war! If it wasn’t for them,Shijie and Jiang Cheng and I would have died. And the rest of them! Grandmothers and farmers and the most minor of minor cultivators. A-Yuan is just a baby, Lan Zhan! What was he even doing there? How could anyone know about this and allow it to happen?”

Wei Wuxian has always been passionate, and despite Lan Wangji’s concerns about his friend’s cultivation methods, he has never doubted Wei Wuxian’s deep dedication to just principles. He ought to have expected that there was no universe in which Wei Wuxian could know about a cruel prison camp full of innocents and not need to do something about it. Like, immediately. I love him, Lan Wangji thinks, so much. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest entirely, but the headache is already starting to recede from behind his eyes. Suddenly fatigued, he leans back and collapses again on the bed.

“Lan Zhan! Are you okay?”

Lan Wangji only groans softly in response and covers his face with one arm.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian seems genuinely alarmed and uncertain about what to do next, and this is the thing that forces Lan Wangji to open his eyes and deal with the decisions that have led him to this point.

He sits back up, slowly, and takes both of Wei Wuxian’s slender hands in his own. He knows that he’s behaving bizarrely; sleeping late and having a mild tantrum is wildly over-the-top for him, and he’s suddenly worried that Wei Wuxian is going to think he’s lost his mind entirely.

“Wei Ying. I am frightened. For all of us. What will we do now, with the whole world against us?”

“Not the whole world, Lan Zhan. I’ve already convinced you, unless you’ve only followed me here for sexy reasons.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, repressively. “Be serious.”

Wei Wuxian’s face transforms to a study in stubborn fortitude as he squeezes Lan Wangji’s hands and replies, “We will do whatever we have to do. We’ll figure it out, Lan Zhan. Also, it truly is not the whole world. Your brother may support us. And my sister—which also means my brother, eventually. Maybe even Jin Zixuan, if Shijie has the time to work on him. Let’s not give up hope yet that good sense will win out in the end.”

Wei Wuxian lifts Lan Wangji’s hands and presses swift, soft kisses to each fingertip and knuckle.

“The thing that you should be worried about,” Wei Wuxian continues, “is what we’re all going to eat in the meantime. I had a hard time surviving here when I only had myself to look after. There are nearly thirty of us now, and something tells me that we are going to be here longer than just three months.”

“I don’t know how to help, Wei Ying.”

“We’ll figure it out together, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian pulls Lan Wangji into a quick but thorough embrace. When he pulls away, he gently kisses Lan Wangji on the lips and then smiles. “Now get up, sleepyhead. I can’t believe I am up before you. We have so much to do.”

By the time Lan Wangji is up and dressed—replacing his travel worn and filthy light blue robes with something more sturdy and practical for the new life he’s chosen is going to be a priority—he emerges from the cave-like palace to find Wei Wuxian already deep in conversation with Wen Qing, Granny Wen, and one of the older Wen men who seems to hold a position of respect in the clan. Wei Wuxian holds a-Yuan in his lap, occasionally bouncing the child—who is listening raptly to the adults around him—on his knee.

“Great,” Wei Wuxian is saying. “We have the money from the horses, and that should buy us some necessities—cloth and tools and medicine and rice and some seeds for growing—it’s still early enough for us to have some kind of harvest if we plant immediately. Fourth Uncle—” He looks directly at the older man. “You should go today. Take one or two of the younger men to help carry things and wear plain robes. Yiling doesn’t have a sect of its own, and the townspeople shouldn’t recognize you. With any luck, news of our situation won’t have made it there yet. If we can get what we need before that happens, we should be able to survive here for—well, for a long time. If nothing else, we should be preparing for that as a possibility.”

“We should get bows for hunting,” Lan Wangji suggests, earning an approving look from Wei Wuxian. “And paper.”

Wei Wuxian properly grins at this. “I’m glad one of us is sensible, Lan Zhan! We wouldn’t want to run out of talisman paper when I have so many ideas on how to fix Wen Ning.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t say that he was thinking of writing letters on paper, and now he’s not sure who he would write to or what he would say. He is sure that nothing he writes to the people he would normally think to write to (his brother, his uncle) is going to get him a favorable response. He pushes the thought away before he works himself up into another embarrassing outburst of emotion. It’s important that he stays steady for Wei Wuxian and for the Wen sect members who are depending on them now. Of them all, Lan Wangji has risked the least in this enterprise, and he’s keenly aware of his privilege. Yes, obviously his uncle will be furious, but the truth is that Lan Wangji would nevertheless be allowed to return home—and go back to being the spoiled brother of a wealthy and well-respected sect leader—if he wanted to. Lan Qiren might punish him, but Lan Xichen would welcome him home without question. Well, with some questions, probably. But not any hard ones.

Just as Lan Wangji is about to spiral into a nasty cycle of guilt and shame and self-recrimination and generally feeling completely useless, Wen Qing rescues him by giving him something to do. Surely, she can’t have known how much he needed instructions, but he’s overwhelmed with gratitude that she’s there.

“Hanguang-Jun,” she says quietly. “Let’s leave Wei Wuxian and Fourth Uncle to make a shopping list. We can go check in on a-Ning. Did you bring an instrument with you? The Lan know healing songs, right?”

“Hm. Yes.”

Lan Wangji follows her to where Wen Ning has been laid in the very back of a large chamber near a decrepit fountain in the shape of an almost monstrous face sluggishly spews dark water into a filthy-looking pool. Lan Wangji quickly revises his guess of how long Wei Wuxian was awake before him when he sees that Wen Ning’s still form has already been covered with a whole net of connecting talismans that positively steam with resentful energy; it rises in visible plumes from the body. Some of the talismans are familiar—Lan Wangji recognizes sigils for healing and restful sleep and awakening, even when they are combined with each other in creative ways—but some of them are clearly the inventions of Wei Wuxian, and many of these Lan Wangji can only guess at the purpose of. Talisman craft has never been a particular interest of his, and Wei Wuxian’s skill and ingenuity are obviously far beyond the solid grasp of fundamentals and practical use of talismans that Lan Wangji’s Gusu education has given him.

“Wen-guniang,” Lan Wangji begins, and then stops.

He is full of questions for Wen Qing, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. She is a doctor—the best doctor of the Wen sect, probably the best doctor in any of the major sects—and she has a dispassionate demeanor to rival his own legendary coldness, but how could she be purely objective about her own little brother? Lan Wangji cannot forget how obviously she adored Wen Ning when he first met them years ago at Cloud Recesses, and he knows that if he was in her position—if this was his own brother, or Wei Wuxian—he would do literally anything to save the person he loved.

“He looks dead, I know, Hanguang-Jun, but he was still breathing when we found him. Wei-gongzi is convinced that he can bring his spiritual cognition back if only we can heal his body sufficiently.”

“I can help with that,” Lan Wangji says with more confidence than he actually feels. He settles himself next to Wen Ning’s platform, summons his qin, and begins to play.

Chapter Text

Every day at the Burial Mounds seems fuller and harder than the previous one, but Lan Wanji throws himself into this life as much as he can, doing whatever Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing ask of him. He surprises himself by loving the new life they are building in this place that felt so full of death and sorrow when they arrived.

It’s humbling, in the beginning, to realize just how ill-prepared he is to be useful in difficult circumstances, but Lan Wangji is vain, not proud, and as he exchanges his white robes for more practical grey ones and learns to till earth and plant seeds and mend torn clothes and do all the other work that keeps their newly formed family alive, he finds that the vanity slips away as well. His hands, formerly soft except for finger calluses from years of qin-playing, turn strong and rough from work. He gets used to having dirt under his fingernails and wearing simple hairstyles that resist mussing and having a perpetually dingy hem to his outermost layer of robes. He gets used to going to sleep by nine in the evening because he’s exhausted from work, not just because he’s disciplined himself to do so, and he rises early with the sun in order to make the best use of precious hours of daylight.

Nearly a month after their frantic flight to the Burial Mounds, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have still not discussed the change in their relationship since their first kiss in the rain on Qiongqi Way, but they are still kissing: gently, in the mornings; in furtive moments throughout the day when no one is watching; more passionately at night before they fall asleep next to each other, though they still have not done more than kiss and occasionally fall asleep in each other’s arms (Wei Wuxian keeps odd hours, so they seldom actually sleep together through the night). There really has been so much to do, and—despite his slowly increasing sexual frustration—Lan Wangji is as content and happy as he’s ever been. Constantly worried for the future and still concerned about Wei Wuxian’s use of unconventional cultivation methods, but happy and confident that his decision to follow Wei Wuxian was the correct one.

It’s one of the rare mornings where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian wake up together—although Lan Wangji thinks it’s possible that at least some of those mornings are just him waking up as Wei Wuxian is returning to bed—and the two of them are facing each other, slowly kissing and lazily exploring each other’s bodies with their hands, gently caressing and tenderly rubbing at the aches and pains that come from hard work and that neither of them will complain about aloud. Wei Wuxian hisses a little as Lan Wangji massages the spot where his arm connects to his shoulder, and Lan Wangji audibly moans when Wei Wuxian smooths out a particularly pernicious knot in his lower back (and then blushes to the tips of his ears when Wei Wuxian laughs at him). Wei Wuxian is still laughing when Lan Wangji pushes him onto his back, straddles him and pins his hands above his head in one of his own so he can kiss Wei Wuxian with more intent.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps as Lan Wangji kisses along his jaw and down his neck to bite and suck at a spot on his collarbone, leaving a blooming purple mark just above the edge of Wei Wuxian’s red undershirt before returning to kiss him silent—well, as silent as Wei Wuxian ever is, which isn’t very, especially when Lan Wangji bites his bottom lip and growls deep in his throat while he ravages Wei Wuxian’s mouth. This earns a guttural moan in response that might be the sexiest sound Lan Wangji has ever heard in his life.

When Lan Wangji grinds his hips down against Wei Wuxian’s, he is pleased to feel that his arousal is reciprocated. He’s thought so before, but this is the first time since coming to the Burial Mounds that he’s felt physically up to escalating things like this. He continues kissing Wei Wuxian, holding him down with one hand and moving his other hand purposefully down Wei Wuxian’s body. Lan Wangji shifts so that his knees are between Wei Wuxian’s, and Wei Wuxian wraps his legs up around Lan Wangji’s waist and rolls his hips up so their erections press together, separated only by the thin cloth of their underpants. Lan Wangji slides his hand down to Wei Wuxian’s hip and presses him down onto the hard surface of their bed and then reaches around to grab Wei Wuxian’s ass hard. This surprises a yelp and another laugh and a “Shameless!” out of Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji can’t help smiling where his face is pressed against Wei Wuxian’s neck.

They continue kissing and touching and pressing their bodies together, filling the room with the sounds of their pleasure, and it’s no wonder, really, that both men are too occupied with each other to notice a commotion outside their door. The door itself shakes with someone pounding on it before being thrown open and slamming against the wall.

“Lan Wangji!” booms a familiar voice that’s enough to make Lan Wangji’s blood run suddenly cold.

Lan Wangji freezes in place, pulling his mouth away from the sensitive spot he’s discovered behind Wei Wuxian’s left ear and hiding his face in Wei Wuxian’s hair, which is loose and extremely tangled where it’s spread out underneath him on the bed. Wei Wuxian opens his eyes, sees who has barged into their room, collapses back onto the bed and groans.

“Wangji. What is this?” Lan Qiren asks. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

Lan Wangji raises his head and looks at his uncle in mute horror, and Wei Wuxian—damn him—laughs. Lan Qiren’s face turns a red so deep that it’s nearly purple as Lan Wangji scrambles off of Wei Wuxian—who promptly laughs so hard that he falls off the bed onto the stone floor, which makes him grunt in pain and then laugh louder—and looks around for some proper clothes, which is harder than one might think in the state he’s in. He grabs the first thing he finds, which is Wei Wuxian’s black outer robes—tossed randomly near the bed as usual instead of neatly folded and tucked away like Lan Wangji’s own outerwear—and pulls them around himself, hoping that his rapidly deflating hard-on is disappearing rapidly enough that Lan Qiren won’t see. Because that would be humiliating.

“Shufu. This is unexpected.” Lan Wangji bows with as much serene dignity as he can muster under the circumstances. It’s not much, not enough, but still. “Welcome to our home.”

“Your…” Lan Qiren sputters.

Wei Wuxian, perhaps ominously, has gone silent, though he hasn’t risen from where he fell on the floor next to the bed and out of Lan Qiren’s sight. Maybe Wei Wuxian has finally discovered a sense of self-preservation.

“WHAT?” Lan Qiren is flustered, as if he’s trying to decide how to feel about this recent turn of events, but Lan Wangji is certain, certain, that when Lan Qiren settles on a feeling to have about his nephew shacking up with Wei Wuxian the feeling Lan Qiren is going to have will be rage.

Lan Wangji sighs. It must be just after dawn, but he is already as tired as he would normally be after a full day of working in the gardens that he helped Fourth Uncle and the others plant and that are just now starting to sprout their first green shoots of food plants.

Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to stand up, look (obviously, appreciatively) at Lan Wangji in his own robes, and then pick up Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon from where it had been carefully set near the bed the night before and hold it out to him. “Lan Zhan, your ribbon.”

Lan Qiren’s face, if possible, turns an even darker shade of red-violet at this—everyone in this room knows how meaningful the Lan head ribbon is—but Lan Wangji just takes the ribbon from Wei Wuxian’s outstretched hand, smooths his hair back in place as best he can, and ties the ribbon around his head. He feels much more himself with it on; as a physical symbol of restraint and temperance, the ribbon has no equal, and just the feel of it against his forehead has a calming effect on Lan Wangji. Goodness knows he needs it.

Wei Wuxian swiftly moves to the other side of the room, rummaging for another set of robes only to settle on Lan Wangji’s grey ones, which he shrugs on and ties rather haphazardly around himself before stepping to Lan Wangji’s side and making his own bow to Lan Qiren. At least, Lan Wangji thinks, he’s not wearing my white robes. Lan Qiren might have an actual qi deviation if he saw Wei Wuxian dressed in clothing that was any more recognizably Lan Wangji’s.

“Shifu,” Wei Wuxian says, as respectfully as possible as he bows deeply, borrowed robes slightly broad in his shoulders and long in the arms. “Welcome.”

“You,” Lan Qiren begins, his voice quickly approaching a level that could be called shouting by most reasonable observers. “What have you done to my nephew?”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen innocently, and Lan Wangji can tell he is about to say something disastrous, so he cuts him off. “He has done nothing, Shufu, but try to right a wrong perpetrated against the people here, and I have chosen to help him.”

“You’ve what?” Lan Qiren roars. “The Wen Sect earned their punishment with their own misdeeds! They are not your responsibility, Lan Wangji. And neither is Wei Wuxian! I have no doubt that he has used his wicked tricks to lure you and keep you here. This cannot be your home. You belong at Cloud Recesses. You have responsibilities there!”

“Not anymore,” Lan Wangji replies quietly.

He hears Wei Wuxian’s sharp intake of breath, but even Wei Wuxian isn’t reckless enough to say anything now. Not with Lan Qiren suddenly gone still and silent with fury. Instead Wei Wuxian takes a step closer to Lan Wangji and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly. Lan Wangji isn’t sure which of them it’s supposed to comfort, but he’s still grateful for the touch.

“Lan Wangji.” Lan Qiren seems to grow in size like a storm cloud, filling the room with his anger. “You have never been this disobedient. Have you no shame? To run away in the middle of the night with this man? To tie your fortune to these unlucky people? The rest of the cultivation world will not let this stand! The Wen sect is marked for death, and you will die with them if you stay here.”

Now, Wei Wuxian speaks: “That’s pessimistic, Shifu.” His voice takes on a dangerous edge when he continues: “Maybe it’s our enemies who will die if they dare to come here for us.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji cautions.

“Don’t ‘Wei Ying’ me, Lan Zhan! He stormed in here to rage at you—at us—about rescuing these people, but he’s one of the people we’re saving them from!” Wei Wuxian is working himself up into a righteous fury, and Lan Wangji doesn’t have it in him to argue with him when he’s this factually correct. “’The cultivation world won’t let this stand’? Well, Lan Qiren is one of the most powerful people in the cultivation world, and he can choose to stop persecuting babies and grandmothers and farmers at any time! If Lan Qiren was feeling ambitious, he could encourage other powerful people to do the same! So could my brother! So could your brother, for that matter. Honestly, how dare Lan Qiren come here like this! Unlucky!”

It’s at this point in the rant that Lan Wangji starts to see tiny dark tendrils of resentful energy gathering around Wei Wuxian’s fingertips. Meanwhile, Lan Qiren’s face has gone from red-violet to white as his Lan robes. Lan Qiren is silent, for now, but Lan Wangji knows that sometimes his uncle’s silence is only the calm before an even greater storm of anger. Lan Wangji already has a headache.

Granny Wen pokes her head into the room and meets Lan Wangji’s eyes apologetically. “I’m so sorry, young masters. Master Lan arrived so unexpectedly. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No, thank you, Granny. I don’t believe my uncle will be staying long,” Lan Wangji says.

Granny Wen’s eyes widen slightly before she slips out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Lan Wangji,” Lan Qiren starts.

“Shufu, with all due respect, it is unacceptable for you to come here, uninvited and unannounced, to insult Wei Ying and threaten us.”
Lan Qiren sputters.

Lan Wangji steps nearer to Wei Wuxian, holds his hand tighter, still unsure if it’s to give Wei Wuxian strength or to take it for himself. Either way, the resentful energy that was building around Wei Wuxian dissipates, at least a little, and Wei Wuxian seems slightly calmer, assured of Lan Wangji’s loyalty.

“Get out,” Wei Wuxian says to Lan Qiren, his hand tightening possessively on Lan Wangji’s, his tone patient and evenly menacing. “Lan Zhan is mine, and these people are our family now. Do not return unless you have changed your heart or are very certain you could win a fight with us.”

Lan Qiren gets out.

Lan Wangji covers Wei Wuxian’s face with kisses.

Two weeks later, Jiang Cheng arrives.

Chapter Text

Lan Qiren’s visit is such a mood-killer that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have been (much to Lan Wangji’s frustration) back to hand-holding, stolen kisses in quiet moments throughout the day, and exhausted cuddling in their shared bed before they sleep at night. They still haven’t talked about their relationship or their plans for the future, although Lan Wangji knows that the life they are building together in the Burial Mounds is what he wants. He can’t get Wei Wuxian’s words to Lan Qiren—“Lan Zhan is mine”—out of his head, but he hasn’t had the courage yet to ask Wei Wuxian to explain what he meant.

For his part, Wei Wuxian seems to be conscientiously avoiding the topic of the future, and Lan Wangji knows—because Wei Wuxian talks nearly as much in his sleep as he does while awake—that despite the smiling face he shows to Lan Wangji and the Wens, Wei Wuxian is less than optimistic about their long term chances of success. While dreaming, he is constantly fretful for the future, and Lan Wangji hasn’t figured out yet how to allay Wei Wuxian’s fears, mostly because, if he’s honest, they are sensible fears.

Singing, humming, or playing the Song of Clarity helps, but it’s no cure for what are, ultimately, basically realistic worries—that their crops will fail, that the great sects will attack them, that their meager resources will run out before they become self-sufficient here.

That’s not all that Wei Wuxian worries about, and Lan Wangji knows it. Wei Wuxian never says it while awake, but the other common source of his bad dreams is his belief that Lan Wangji is going to leave. On the nights when Wei Wuxian has those nightmares, the only thing that settles him is their song, the one that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that Lan Wangji wrote for him.

The morning that Jiang Cheng arrives is a good morning, however. Wei Wuxian slept peacefully when he finally came to bed, and dawn finds him awake and cheerful with the sun as they break their fast outside. Lan Wangji smiles as he watches Wei Wuxian share a bowl of bland plain congee with A-Yuan and makes a mental note to buy some chili sauce or pepper flakes or something next time he’s in town with Fourth Uncle. Their first crops of radishes and cabbage are nearly ready to harvest, and between himself and Wei Wuxian, they have a nice stack of useful talismans—for fire and light and heat and very minor healing—to sell in Yiling. Surely some of the proceeds from these can be spared to get Wei Wuxian some of the spices he loves. (Surely, Lan Wangji thinks to himself, there are those among the Wen as well who miss more flavorful foods.)

Wen Qing is sharing breakfast with them, as well, and she and Lan Wangji have a long day planned of working on Wen Ning. While Wei Wuxian adorably entertains their child (when did Lan Wangji start thinking of A-Yuan as theirs?), Lan Wangji and Wen Qing talk healing in quiet tones.

“I’m fairly certain that A-Ning can hear us now,” Wen Qing says. “Yesterday—though maybe it’s just a sister’s wishful thinking—I could have sworn I felt him squeeze my hand while I was talking to him.”

Lan Wangji nods. “It has seemed, lately, as if he’s sleeping more peacefully. I think Cleansing is helping. I wish I had access to the library at Cloud Recesses, though. Healing isn’t my specialty, and I know that there is much more there than I know about.”

“It’s just so far outside of anything I’ve ever heard of before. He really was mostly dead when we found him. I agree with you, though, Hanguang-Jun. It does seem more like a healing sleep than a coma these days.”

Wei Wuxian looks up from A-Yuan, who has moved from the seat next to him in order to sit happily in Wei Wuxian’s lap and shovel congee slightly sloppily into his mouth.

“Are the talismans still helping?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I have to admit it’s been a few days since I’ve checked in, busy as I’ve been with the garden and with building the house, but if you let me know which ones are working best and which need refreshed, I will make that my priority today. I am also wondering if I should start adding in some sigils for ‘waking’ now that Wen Ning is getting better.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says. “’Waking’ is a good idea.”

Wen Qing nods in agreement. “I’m planning to start using needles soon, as well. That should help to stabilize A-Ning’s qi and ensure that it’s flowing through his body correctly.”

“Make sure you both give me notes on your methods,” Lan Wangji says, mostly for Wei Wuxian’s benefit; Wen Qing is conscientious in this way, but Wei Wuxian’s process is… less so.
Lan Wangji has been thoroughly documenting this process as well as saving everything that Wei Wuxian writes down about all the other ingenious talismans and inventions he has come up with since they’ve arrived. He figures that even if they never have to do this again—even if they fail (and he doesn’t like to think too hard about what failure for them would entail)—someone may find their writings someday and learn something from them.

A-Yuan finishes his congee and decides that he’s tired of listening to the adults talking about things he doesn’t understand. “Xian-gege, play with me?” he whispers loudly.

“Patience, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji admonishes with a miniscule frown. ‘No talking during meals’ was the first Lan principle that he gave up on altogether after coming here, but that didn’t mean that interrupting elders was fine as well.

“But, a-die.” A-Yuan sniffs a little and turns enormous eyes towards Lan Wangji’s.

Lan Wangji’s heart melts. He doesn’t remember exactly when a-Yuan started calling him “a-die,” but he’s certain that Wei Wuxian is behind it. This is another thing they haven’t talked about, but if Wei Wuxian had asked Lan Wangji, he would have freely admitted that he loves a-Yuan like his own flesh and blood. There’s nothing he will refuse the boy when he calls him ‘a-die.’ Which, come to think of it, is probably exactly why Wei Wuxian would have taught him that. Still.

“We are almost done, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji assures the child. “But your Xian-gege has work to do after breakfast. Maybe you can help me and your auntie with our work instead and I will play with you after.”

“Okay, a-die,” says a-Yuan and gets up from Wei Wuxian’s lap to come hug Lan Wangji.

Wen Qing smiles at Lan Wangji approvingly. He knows she appreciates his dedication to their work, although he also suspects that she knows that his style of play involves fewer dirty clothes to be washed than Wei Wuxian’s. Wei Wuxian pouts a little, but playfully, and when he gets up to go work on his talismans he drops kisses on both a-Yuan’s head and Lan Wangji’s on his way out of the room.

It really is a great morning.

Lan Wangji is playing a counting game with a-Yuan while Wei Wuxian works on crafting talismans and Wen Qing writes a report on Wen Ning’s progress when all three of the adults startle as something triggers the new and complex array of wards they’ve surrounded the settlement with since Lan Qiren’s visit. Their previous array too clearly specified that it was supposed to keep out those who mean them harm. The new one should stop any uninvited guests from just barging in without warning. Sure, it’s been triggered a couple of times by deer, but they think they’ve finally got all the quirks worked out of the system. It’s Lan Wangji’s turn to check what has triggered the wards today, and he’s not entirely surprised to find Sect Leader Jiang frozen—and furious about it—at the warded perimeter.

“Good morning, Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says mildly, though it’s almost lunchtime.

“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng grits out, Zidian crackling a little in response to his rage. “Where is my idiot brother?”

“If you’d let us know you were coming to visit, we could have received you properly. Wei Ying is at home, working.”

“Working.” Disbelieving.

“We’re quite busy here, Jiang-zongzhu. With no allies, we have to provide entirely for ourselves, and this is an unforgiving land.” Lan Wangji pauses. “If I let you loose and invite you in, can I trust that you won’t cause any trouble? I’m sure Wei Ying will be glad of your visit.”

Jiang Cheng looks as if he isn’t sure which part of that speech he is most offended by, but he manages to grunt out a promise that he means no harm. Lan Wangji briefly takes down the wards, pulls Jiang Cheng inside the perimeter and resets the defenses. Jiang Cheng huffs and makes a great show of straightening his dark purple robes as he regains his composure, though Lan Wangji can still see the occasional spark flickering around Zidian.

“I cannot believe you guys have done this,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I know my brother is stupid, but I’ve always felt like you kept Wei Wuxian from his worst impulses. Running away with him in the middle of the night is pretty much the opposite of keeping him out of trouble.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. There’s no good response to Jiang Cheng’s criticism; certainly, Lan Wangji can’t argue that he has kept Wei Wuxian out of trouble. “Follow me. I’ll take you to Wei Ying.”

By the time they make the short walk back to Demon-Subdue Palace, Wei Wuxian has set aside his work and is playing in the garden with a-Yuan, who is covered in dirt nearly to his waist. Wen Qing is not going to be happy, but a-Yuan is laughing as Wei Wuxian plants him next to the turnips. When Wei Wuxian notices Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng’s arrival, he stands up and a brilliant smile spreads across his face. Lan Wangji is dazzled, but Jiang Cheng merely scowls.

“Wei Wuxian! I was told you were working!”

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian pouts. “I was working, but someone triggered our wards and drew Lan Zhan away, leaving me to entertain our son.”

“Your—” Jiang Cheng sputters.

“This is a-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian says. “A-Yuan, this is your shushu.”

“Shushu,” A-Yuan says, experimentally, adorably.

Jiang Cheng’s scowl deepens, which would worry Lan Wangji if he wasn’t distracted by his heart melting in his chest. Our son, he thinks. Yes. Wei Wuxian is beaming, his smile as bright as the sun as he waits for Jiang Cheng’s response, and it takes every bit of Lan Wangji’s considerable willpower to not grab Wei Wuxian and kiss him senseless right there in front of his brother. Instead, he walks over and picks up a-Yuan, dusting off what he can of the dirt from the boy’s clothes.

“Come, a-Yuan. Let’s leave Xian-gege to speak with his brother.”

“Okay, a-die,” A-Yuan says.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines. “You’re really going to leave me alone with Jiang Cheng right now?”

Jiang Cheng snorts, amused or derisive or both.

Lan Wangji sighs. “I will settle a-Yuan with Granny Wen and return. Do not kill each other before I get back.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and Jiang Cheng’s scowl returns as Lan Wangji sweeps away with a-Yuan, who is due for a nap anyway.

By the time Lan Wangji returns less than fifteen minutes later, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are in deep sulks. Wei Wuxian barely looks his way but grabs his hand possessively when he gets close and twines their fingers together. Lan Wangji squeezes back, gently, and turns to Jiang Cheng, who huffs dramatically in annoyance or disapproval (or both).

“So this is how it is now?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You two, together, here? While I rebuild the Jiang sect alone? You said you would always be with me, Wei Wuxian! And instead you’ve run away with Lan Wangji and set up house here in the middle of nowhere to protect strangers. Meanwhile, I have Jin Guangshan and the rest of the sect leaders bothering me day and night to do something about you!”

“Jiang Cheng—” Wei Wuxian begins, but Jiang Cheng keeps going.

“Yao-zongzhu has been at Lotus Pier three times in the last two months alone, trying to bully me into dragging you back for punishment. Last time he brought Ouyang-zongzhu as well. And you wouldn’t believe the letters I’m getting from everyone else.”

Jiang Cheng is such a picture of abject misery that Lan Wangji can’t help but feel sorry for him. He knows that the duties of a sect leader must weigh heavily on the younger man, and he has spent no small amount of time feeling guilty for his own role in keeping Wei Wuxian from what was (arguably, Lan Zhan thinks uncharitably) his duty. Not that he could have stopped Wei Wuxian on Qiongqi Way. He knows, though he doesn’t like to think about it (and though he also loves Wei Wuxian all the more for it), that Wei Wuxian would have left him as surely as he abandoned Jiang Cheng if he hadn’t chosen to go with him that night. Lan Wangji tells himself that he would always have followed Wei Wuxian.

“I’m sorry for your hardship,” Wei Wuxian says to his now-rambling brother. “We barely have enough food to eat here, and we live in constant fear of reprisal from the great sects, but I know how trying Yao and Ouyang can be.”

Jiang Cheng falls silent.

Lan Wangji can see a glint of something dangerous in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, for all that he is hiding his anger and pain beneath humor and sarcasm. He thinks Jiang Cheng can see the danger as well. Lan Wangji chooses this moment to interject. He’s never loved Jiang Cheng, but he knows that Wei Wuxian does. Furthermore, he cannot imagine being at odds like this with his own brother and feels like he ought to do something to help this situation rather than exacerbate it.

“Jiang Wanyin. Please, let’s not argue yet. Stay for the evening meal. We can catch up, and you can get to know A-Yuan and the rest of our people. We are not so poor that we cannot offer hospitality.”

Jiang Cheng huffs and pouts furiously, but he relents. “Okay. You guys should show me around. Explain to me exactly what you’re doing here. Convince me it’s not complete lunacy.”

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes at this, but Wei Wuxian laughs.

“Okay, okay, Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian is still smiling, and Lan Wangji’s heart hurts a little at the fragile hopefulness he sees in that smile. “Come. See what we’ve made of this place.”

The tour doesn’t take very long as there just isn’t that much to see. They show Jiang Cheng the gardens, the well they’ve dug, the beginnings of the house that is being built so that there will be a more comfortable place for the Wen to sleep than the stone floors of Demon-Subdue Palace. They don’t show Jiang Cheng their private quarters, but they do show him the ancient fountain that is being cleansed to turn it into a place of healing. They show him the library, now much more organized (mostly by Lan Wangji) than it was during Wei Wuxian’s solo tenure here. Most importantly, they introduce him to the people they now consider family.

Fourth Uncle is delighted to have a fresh audience for his scheme to make wine from the sour apples that are common on the mountain. Granny Wen fusses over Jiang-zongzhu’s comfort and offers him refreshments. Some of the younger women blush prettily at the handsome young sect leader, while the younger men ask for news of the outside world. No one complains very much about their hardship, though there is some grumbling about the poor soil and the strange smell of the nearly ever-present fog that settles over the mountaintop. Wen Qing hovers slightly anxiously nearby as Jiang Cheng is shown Wen Ning’s resting place and Wei Wuxian explains how the healing is going.

Throughout all of this, Jiang Cheng is polite though he asks few questions. Instead, he gets quieter and more reserved as they go on, and by the end of the short tour Lan Wangji thinks he seems uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng begins. “To hear Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun tell it, you have freed dozens of powerful Wen cultivators and absconded to start your own sect for sinister ends. But instead, I find you here surrounded by the old, young and weak—all useless!”

“Jiang Wanyin!” Lan Wangji interjects before Wei Wuxian can get outraged or Jiang Cheng can say something more disastrously insulting. “What is ‘useless’?”

Jiang Cheng has the decency—barely—to look ashamed.

“None of these people are useless!” Wei Wuxian exclaims.

“But…” Jiang Cheng seems at a loss for words. “What are you doing here? How are you going to survive? You can’t live on turnips and apple wine! Not with the rest of the sects set against you!”

“Are you set against us, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian’s voice has a strange, dangerous note in it.

“The Wen sect killed my family, Wei Wuxian! Our family! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“Do you aspire to be no better than Wen Ruohan, then? Indiscriminately wiping out whole sects down to the last child? The people here haven’t killed anyone.”

Jiang Cheng’s scowl returns, deeper than ever. “Of course not, but—”

Lan Wangji interrupts again: “Nothing that comes after that ‘but’ is going to be a good thing for you to say.”

Sparks of blue fire flare around Zidian at Jiang Cheng’s wrist. Lan Wangji is wary of pushing him too far. Wei Wuxian is decidedly not worried about this, and, indeed, Jiang Cheng tries a new tactic now.

“Wei Wuxian! Have you forgotten? You promised me that you would be with me forever. With us! Jiejie is finally marrying Jin Zixuan. There’s going to be a wedding to plan, and then she’ll move to Lanling and I’ll have no one. I can’t believe you.”

At some point, Jiang Cheng’s rage evaporates into despair, and Lan Wangji finds himself feeling a fresh wave of guilt. Wei Wuxian isn’t the only one who has abandoned a brother and family responsibilities. Still, he doesn’t see an obvious solution to their problems. As long as the great sects insist on enforcing a death sentence on the last Wen—and as long as their brothers support that course of action—there’s nothing else for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to do besides hide in the Burial Mounds and protect their people there. It’s a defensible place, and Wei Wuxian’s flexibility when it comes to cultivating resentful energy makes it more so. And Wei Wuxian needs Lan Wangji to help him. And Lan Wangji can’t bear the thought of being anywhere that Wei Wuxian isn’t.

Lan Wangji manages to talk himself out of most of his own guilt, but Wei Wuxian looks stricken.

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Wangji is quietly firm. “Wei Ying wouldn’t be here if the Jin sect had been more just in its treatment of the Wen. You saw yourself what Jin Guangyao did to prisoners publicly at Phoenix Mountain. What do you think conditions were like in a Jin prison camp? Wen Qionglin and all the other Wen cultivators of any strength were used as bait to lure monsters and as fodder for experiments. Was that just?”

“Why should I care what happens to any Wen?” Jiang Cheng asks, furiously. “After what they did to my parents? To the Jiang sec? You’d have my heart bleed for Wen children I’ve never met, but they murdered children I knew and loved at Lotus Pier. And you, Hanguang-Jun, have just as much reason to hate as I do. Half of Cloud Recesses is still in ruins, and you’re just as derelict in your duties as Wei Wuxian is. And you did no more to defend or protect the Wen than anyone else did until you ran away with Wei Wuxian without a word to anyone. Why are you really here, Lan Wangji? At the end of the world where no one can see what you’re doing with my brother?”

Lan Wangji’s guilt returns along with a sizeable feeling of shame at both his inaction when it mattered and the suggestion that his motivations for following Wei Wuxian might be less than honorable. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian is there and ready, now, to take over being self-righteously angry.

“Jiang Wanyin!”

Wei Wuxian has never, in Lan Wangji’s hearing, used quite that tone of voice with Jiang Cheng. Neither has he heard Wei Wuxian call his brother by his courtesy name. It’s always Jiang Cheng or, occasionally, affectionately or teasingly, a-Cheng. There’s no affection in Wei Wuxian’s voice now, and Wei Wuxian certainly isn’t playing. In fact, Lan Wangji can see that Wei Wuxian has Chenqing in his hand, and there are angry tendrils of resentful energy curling around his fingertips on the flute. He reaches out silently to lace his fingers gently through the ones of Wei Wuxian’s empty hand, sends out a pulse of warm spiritual energy and watches the resentment recede a little, just like it did when they faced Lan Qiren.

“Apologize to Lan Zhan this instant,” Wei Wuxian continues, still menacing even if he’s no longer (quite) brimming over with dark magic.

“Apologize?” Jiang Cheng is incredulous. “Why should I apologize? He’s the one who has thrown his reputation away, and you’re the one who has allowed him! As if you hadn’t brought enough shame to the Jiang sect already! You had to go and despoil one of the Twin Jades of Lan!”

Lan Wangji has seen Wei Wuxian surprised before. Has even, once, seen Wei Wuxian at a loss for words. But he’s never before seen Wei Wuxian as completely speechless as he is now, white-faced and trembling with some strong emotion that is only partly rage. Wei Wuxian’s hand slips out of his grip and the resentful energy that he’d managed to tame earlier pours forth towards Jiang Cheng, who backs away and doesn’t succeed in hiding his horror. For all that early ascendancy to sect leadership has rushed Jiang Cheng into adulthood, he looks terribly young in the face of Wei Wuxian’s rage.

“You should leave.” Lan Wangji has regained his hold on Wei Wuxian, this time on his wrist, but he’s not at all certain that he can stop the resentful energy in time to protect Jiang Cheng if Wei Wuxian really wants to hurt him.

“But…” Jiang Cheng is uncertain. His own anger has turned to obvious anguish.

Lan Wangji gets it, he thinks, and he plans to talk this all over—extensively—with Wei Wuxian later. Right now, though, he just needs Jiang Cheng to leave.

“Go, Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian grits out, trembling in Lan Wangji’s grasp, Chenqing held in a death grip. “Before I do something we will both regret.”

Jiang Cheng leaves. Lan Wangji is pretty sure he is crying as he walks away.

Chapter Text

As soon as Jiang Cheng leaves, some of the tension bleeds out of Wei Wuxian. He’s still seething with both resentful energy and just regular rage, but he relaxes enough to allow Lan Wangji to patiently steer him back to their chambers, where Lan Wangji guides him to sit on a chair and the table that one of the handier Wen men built for them. Lan Wangji has been surprised at how quickly these rooms have transformed into home for him, filling—despite their relative poverty here—with all the things that make up their life together: furniture and clothes and books and writing brushes and the salve for muscle pain that Wen Qing gave Lan Wangji when he overworked himself early on and small treasures (a pinecone, a sparkly white rock, a drawing of them together) from a-Yuan.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan kneels in front of Wei Wuxian, gently coaxes him to release his grip on Chenqing, winces a little at the uncomfortable feeling of the flute in his own hand when he moves to set it on the table.

Lan Zhan takes the other chair and quietly, worriedly, watches Wei Wuxian.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sighs and then chuckles softly. “Lan Zhan, it’s been some time since I’ve been that angry at Jiang Cheng. I’m glad you were there to stop me from doing something stupid.”

“I am also glad.”

“How dare he say such things about you?” Wei Wuxian grimaces ruefully. “I know I should be angrier about everything else he said, and I am, but still. How can he suggest that I would… that we’ve…”

Lan Wangji thinks back to what Lan Qiren interrupted two weeks ago and feels a faint flush spread from his face to his chest and the tips of his ears. Sure, Wei Wuxian hasn’t despoiled him yet, but that isn’t because Lan Wangji doesn’t want to be despoiled. They’ve just been too tired and busy to get around to doing it properly.

“Wei Ying. We do share a bed,” Lan Wangji points out wryly, eliciting a small giggle from Wei Wuxian.

“Okay, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t know that. And we haven’t, you know…”

“Oh, I know.” Lan Wangji can’t keep a thread of frustration from creeping into his voice, and he hopes that Wei Wuxian doesn’t notice.

Wei Wuxian notices. Lan Wangji sees the shift in his face when he does.

“Lan Zhan. If you want—”

You have no idea how I want, Lan Wangji wants to say but doesn’t.

“Lan Zhan, you shouldn’t want that. You shouldn’t want me. Jiang Cheng is right. You should be in Cloud Recesses helping your brother and uncle rebuild your sect.”

“Wei Ying. You are crying.” Lan Wangji reaches out to gently brush away a tear from Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “It’s true that I could be helping my brother and uncle in Cloud Recesses, but I think the Wen need me more.” I think you need me more, Lan Wangji doesn’t say.

“But, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying starts to protest.

“Come, Wei Ying. Let me play for you. You almost lost control today,”

He moves Wei Wuxian to the floor, arranges him in lotus pose, kisses his lips softly and enjoys the sigh that Wei Wuxian releases. Lan Wangji retreats to a spot a few feet away, places his qin in his lap and starts to pick out Clarity. Wei Wuxian is still watching him, though.

“Close your eyes, Wei Ying.”

“You know how I feel about meditation, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian grouses, but he closes his eyes anyway.

An hour later, the darkness of resentful energy that surrounded Wei Wuxian has almost completely dissipated, and Wei Wuxian is nearly asleep where he sits. Lan Wangji smiles indulgently and carefully lifts Wei Wuxian to the bed, tucking a blanket around him as he mumbles and shifts around before falling into a deeper slumber. Lan Wangji knows they need to talk, seriously, about their relationship and about the future, and he resolves to bring it up that evening. Wei Wuxian will feel much better after a nice long afternoon nap, and that will give Lan Wangji time to work up the courage to finally just ask for what he wants.

In the meantime, he goes to Wen Qing, who is in their makeshift kitchen stirring a large pot of greyish soup. He hopes that Wen Qing is only stirring; he thought no one could be a worse cook than Wei Wuxian, but she has proven otherwise on more than one occasion.

“Has Jiang-zongzhu left?” she asks neutrally.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Wen Qing’s mouth is firmly set in a straight line.

Lan Wangji nods. He knows Wei Wuxian loves his brother, but he’s not sorry to see Jiang Cheng leave. If Jiang Cheng isn’t willing to help them, if he still thinks that they should have allowed the Wen remnants to be tortured and killed, then he has no business in the Burial Mounds. All it will do is anger Wei Wuxian, making him more susceptible to whatever dark energies he connected himself to during the three months he lived here before. Lan Wangji’s head aches a little, right behind his eyes, as he wonders which of their family and acquaintance are going to arrive next to interrogate their choices.

“Are you… okay?” he asks Wen Qing tentatively. They’ve become friendly, and Lan Wangji greatly admires her, but he’s not sure they are close enough to talk about feelings.

“I’m fine,” Wen Qing replies. “Just. Worried and tired all the time. But as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Wen-guniang.”

“Wen Qing, please, Lan Wangji.” She smiles a little. They are both people who default to formality, but they have been trying to loosen up with each other.

“Thank you, Wen Qing.” Lan Wangji experiments with a small smile of his own. “Is there anything I can do to help you? With the cooking? Or anything else?”

“I’m almost done here, actually. You can come with me to check on a-Ning, though, when you’re done with your tea.”

Lan Wangji dutifully finishes his tea in silence. He appreciates, as always, that Wen Qing allows him to. For all that he has given up on actually having silence during meals, in general—between Wei Wuxian, a-Yuan, and the Wen, it just wasn’t a reasonable expectation—he still prefers it, and he loves Wen Qing both for knowing it and respecting it. After he drains his cup, Lan Wangji washes it himself in the basin of water they keep constantly warm for the purpose thanks to an ingenious talisman invented by Wei Wuxian. The companionable silence he shares with Wen Qing lasts until they get to Wen Ning’s room.

Wen Ning really is looking better. The black lines of resentful energy have faded and retreated almost down to his chest, and there is color replacing the deathly pallor in his face. Though he still sleeps, he has begun to twitch and whisper at times like he’s dreaming, although his dreams often seem unquiet. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian take turns playing soothing music for him, and even Wen Qing has begun to learn some of the healing songs that are suitable for playing on her small flute. There’s still a haze of resentful energy surrounding Wen Ning, but Cleansing siphons more of it off each day, which allows Wei Wuxian’s talismans to work more effectively. Combined with Wen Qing’s skillful wound care—which has already healed the injuries to Wen Ning’s body—and acupuncture, Lan Wangji has high hopes that Wen Ning will recover soon.

“Any day now, I think,” Wen Qing says softly, placing a gentle hand on her brother’s cheek.

“You would know better than I would, but he is certainly much improved. I’m glad that we have kept thorough notes on our treatments,” Lan Wangji says. “It will surely be helpful to someone else someday.”

“I only wish we didn’t have to learn so much on my little brother,” Wen Qing replies.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji nods affirmatively, thinking of his own brother, who he hasn’t spoken to in months now. “It’s not ideal.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in companionable silence and watching the peaceful rise and fall of Wen Ning’s chest.

Dinner with the Wens is usually a boisterous affair these days. They still often don’t have enough food for hearty meals, but time has healed most of the physical wounds suffered in captivity, and the longer they survive in the Burial Mounds the more optimistic they all feel. This branch of the sect is naturally gregarious, given to storytelling and laughter, even when grieving as they all incontrovertibly still are. They spend a lot of time remembering the people they have lost by telling and retelling (sometimes with obvious exaggerations) humorous and heartwarming anecdotes about their loved ones, and dinnertime is when that happens. Now that Fourth Uncle’s apple wine-making experiments are bearing fruit, the dinners have only gotten more boisterous and the storytelling both funnier and more maudlin depending on the time of night. Lan Wangji, raised among people who were rather forcibly quiet and reserved, with their literally thousands of rules, still isn’t used to it, but he has grown to love it.

Tonight, there is meat; Wen Fang and Wen Ping managed to take down a deer when they were hunting the previous day, and today it’s been made into a ginger-y stew that is sweeter and spicier than Lan Wangji prefers but that he knows Wei Wuxian will enjoy. Lan Wangji, with a-Yuan on his lap, is sharing a table outside with Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian, and they are talking next steps for the settlement. Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian have gotten into another argument over whether they should be growing potatoes or turnips, which Lan Wangji has no opinion on. If they asked him, he would say they should be planting a greater variety of vegetables. And buying more tofu. He really misses tofu. They don’t ask him, though, and his complaints about the lack of tofu will have to wait for some other time.

Instead, the discussion turns to other concerns. With basic necessities more or less taken care of these days, Lan Wangji has been thinking more broadly about how to make the Burial Mounds more welcoming for living people. They’ve made remarkable progress on cleaning up their actual living spaces, and their garden is flourishing, but there are acres and acres of land around them that are consumed with resentful energy from the sheer number of corpses there.

“I think we need to give all the corpses here proper burials,” Lan Wangji says sometime after a-Yuan has nodded off in his arms.

Wen Qing looks surprised but open to the idea, but Wei Wuxian looks a little aghast.

“But, Lan Zhan, that’s a lot of dead bodies. And, let’s be real, if we clean the place up too much, what will keep people away? I know you don’t like it, but part of the reason to come here, as opposed to any other barren wilderness or inaccessible hinterland within a couple hundred miles, is that it’s extremely scary. Because it’s full of ghosts and fierce corpses.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji is a little exasperated. “It will take us years, probably, to lay all the dead here to rest. Surely we could get started sometime in the foreseeable future.”

“Lan Wangji has a point,” Wen Qing says, and Lan Wangji is grateful for her support. “We don’t need all these dead to keep us safe.”

“We can start with the ones closest to our living areas, which actually make us less safe,” Lan Wangji continues, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s stubborn frown. “And we don’t have to start tomorrow. Just. Soon.”

“Oh, fine.” Wei Wuxian gives in almost suspiciously easily. “It feels a little wasteful, but I suppose you are right about the closer ones. It would be nice for a-Yuan to be able to roam more freely as he grows.”

“That would be nice,” Lan Wangji affirms and reaches out to squeeze Wei Wuxian’s hand. “And speaking of a-Yuan, I think it’s his bedtime.”

“Want me to finish your dinner?” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even wait for Lan Wangji to reply before grabbing his half-eaten bowl of venison stew and digging in.

Wen Qing smiles at them both. “Lan Wangji, why don’t you clean up here? I’ll take care of a-Yuan tonight.”

Lan Wangji stands, carefully transfers the sleeping child into Wen Qing’s arms, and drops a kiss on a-Yuan’s head before turning to start gathering the dishes from their table. Wei Wuxian finishes the last of Lan Wangji’s stew, drains his own cup of apple wine and starts gathering dishes as well, without even being asked, which is a nice change. Lan Wangji would not have guessed before they lived together like this that Wei Wuxian was the more spoiled of the two of them, but he supposes that Jiang Yanli coddled him quite a bit. Wei Wuxian still only has the most basic grasp of how to properly do laundry. It’s a good thing, Lan Wangji thinks affectionately, that he’s so clever with labor-saving talismans.

Chapter Text

By the time they finish cleaning up, the Wen have quieted down, most of them shuffling off to their beds. A few will have moved outdoors to light a fire and talk until later in the evening, but Demon-Subdue Palace is as empty and quiet as it ever is.

Wei Wuxian stretches and yawns extravagantly as they walk towards their chambers.

“Are you ready for bed, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn. Are you?”

“It’s been a long day. I’d forgotten how exhausting Jiang Cheng can be. The nap helped, though. Thank you.”

“That’s not a ‘yes,’” Lan Wangji says with a smile as he opens their door. “You should sleep more, Wei Ying. Or at least more regularly.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Lan Zhan? Me in bed with you every night by nine and up before dawn?”

Lan Wangji closes the door behind them.

“I always like Wei Ying in bed with me.”

Wei Wuxian makes a slightly strangled sound, a kind of aborted giggle. “Lan Zhan! You can’t just say things like that!”

“Hm. It’s the truth.”

Lan Wangji shrugs out of his outer layers, which he folds neatly and lays over the back of a chair, sits and starts taking down his hair. It doesn’t take long these days, now that he’s given up the silver hairpieces he wore as Gusu Lan’s Hanguang-Jun. Just a moment to undo his topknot and remove his ribbon (also neatly folded and set aside). He grabs a comb and starts working on his hair from the bottom up, but before he gets very far Wei Wuxian has plucked the comb from his hand and taken over, gently but thoroughly working through every knot and tangle of the day. Lan Wangji huffs out a sigh of contentment and closes his eyes under Wei Wuxian’s ministrations; this is one of his favorite things about living together; they do this for each other most nights, and it is always, always nice. When Wei Wuxian finishes, he strips down to his red inner robe, nudges Lan Wangji out of the chair and takes his place.

“My turn!”

Lan Wangji smiles a little as he unties Wei Wuxian’s red ribbon and runs his fingers through his thick, silky hair. He takes the comb and gets to work, smoothing it out as he goes, humming softly. He loves the way that Wei Wuxian relaxes and goes still under his touch. Wei Wuxian could stand to be still a lot more often than he can be convinced to be. Just as Lan Wangji was starting to think Wei Wuxian was going to be quiet for the rest of the night, he speaks.

“Hey, Lan Zhan. Do you really think we’ll be here for years?”

“I think it’s likely.”

“But—”

“Wei Ying. The crimes of the Wen sect are great, and the memories of the other sects are long. Even if the people here weren’t directly involved or responsible, I think it’s unlikely that they will be welcomed back into society anytime soon.”

“It’s just strange, Lan Zhan. I never expected you to be here with me at all. I thought you were going to let me go that night on Qiongqi Way, but I didn’t think you would help me more than that. You’ve given up so much to be here, and I just can’t help but feel like someday you’re going to have to go back to Cloud Recesses and your responsibilities there.” Wei Wuxian’s voice falters a little at the end of this speech and he lapses into silence as Lan Wangji finishes combing his hair without responding.

When he finishes with the comb, Lan Wangji sets it aside and returns his hands to Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. Wei Wuxian sucks in a breath when Lan Wangji’s fingers find a knot on his left shoulder blade and capably smooth it out. He releases the breath as a long sigh and lets his head fall back, eyes closed, face almost blissful.

“That feels so good, Lan Zhan. Have I ever told you that you have the most incredible hands in the world?”

“You have not.”

Lan Wangji moves his hands up to Wei Wuxian’s neck, eliciting a low, contented moan from Wei Wuxian who leans further into his touch. Lan Wangji had fully intended to use his words tonight, and he can feel all the things he wants to say (“I love you.” “I’ll never leave you.” “Stay with me.”) pressing against the inside walls of his chest almost painfully.

“Wei Ying—”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t stolen me away from more important things, you know. I’ve chosen this. I’ve chosen you, and I will always choose you. I’ve gained far more than I gave up. Cloud Recesses will just have to endure without me there copying old books and meditating half my days away.”

This surprises a chuckle out of Wei Wuxian, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Feeling bold and overwhelmed by tenderness, Lan Wangji leans down and presses his lips to Wei Wuxian’s still-clothed shoulder. Wei Wuxian stills and goes silent as Lan Wangji kisses his way slowly and intentionally up the side of his neck. When Lan Wangji licks and then bites a spot right behind his ear, Wei Wuxian gasps out a surprised laugh.

“You’re in such a mood tonight, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes.” Lan Wangji keeps kissing Wei Wuxian, softly along his jaw, with teeth and tongue on his earlobe, moving back down to bite and suck a mark into the skin where Wei Wuxian’s red underrobe lays at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Lan Zhan!”

“Should I stop?” Lan Wangji whispers against Wei Wuxian’s neck.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Only if you want to face the wrath of the terrifying Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji pulls back for a moment to ask, “What?”

“Lan Zhan, you haven’t heard? That’s what they’re calling me now! I’m not sure if I’m flattered to have an epithet of my own—even if it’s nothing as fancy-sounding as Hanguang-jun—or if I’m insulted because it makes me sound old.”

“Wei Ying, you vain man,” Lan Wangji laughs.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the stories that are going around already.” Wei Wuxian shifts so that he’s sitting on the table, pulls Lan Wangji towards him so that he’s settled between Wei Wuxian’s legs, and kisses Lan Wangji on the mouth. He pauses. Adds, teasingly, as he works his hands underneath Lan Wangji’s remaining layer of clothes: “It’s no wonder my brother thinks I’ve stolen your virtue. Really, that is the least of the crimes I’m accused of. You should probably just be glad I didn’t blight your crops or sicken your livestock or cause your late grandmother to haunt your kitchen.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji groans, wrapping one of his hands in Wei Wuxian’s hair and grabbing his thigh with the other as he pulls him in for a rough kiss. “You talk—” Another kiss. “—way too much.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, pulls Lan Wangji closer and bites his lower lip while using clever fingers to divest him of the rest of his garments. Lan Wangji returns the favor, peeling Wei Wuxian out of his red robe, hands roaming all over the skin he uncovers and settling on Wei Wuxian’s hips when he wraps his legs around Lan Wangji’s waist. They’re both hard; they let out twin gasps at the friction when their cocks press together between them, and then they are kissing and touching and grinding against each other wordlessly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying manages between kisses. “I have questions.”

“Hm.”

Lan Wangji releases Wei Wuxian’s lips, moving his mouth to suck at the hollow of his throat and nibble across his collarbone instead. Lan Wangji also takes this opportunity to wrap his hand around Wei Wuxian’s cock and give it a couple of strokes that he hopes seem more confident than they actually are. He suspects that Wei Wuxian would be surprised by his theoretical knowledge of sex (the library at Cloud Recesses is extremely informative), but his practical knowledge is limited to what he’s been able to experiment with on just his own body.

“Have you done this with anyone else?” Wei Wuxian asks, breathlessly.

Lan Wangji stops, looks at Wei Wuxian, and shakes his head. “Wei Ying is my first and only,” he says, prompting a blush across Wei Wuxian’s handsome features.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says. “But also, full disclosure, same. I know I have seemed shameless to you, but I never—with anyone else—not even a kiss. Can we go slowly?”

Lan Wangji nods. “Whatever Wei Ying needs.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Right now, I think Wei Ying just needs to move to the bed instead of this hard table.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t reply, not even to point out that their bed is also hard, just picks Wei Wuxian up and moves him the few feet to the bed where he deposits him, still laughing, on his back. Wei Wuxian’s hair is a black puddle framing his face, and Lan Wangji drinks in the sight of him sprawled on their bed. His eyes roam down Wei Wuxian’s body; it’s the first time that he’s ever seen him completely naked, and he intends to memorize every inch of bare skin.

Some of what he sees is expected. The still angry-looking scar from the Wen brand is no surprise; neither are the light tracings of random scars that he would expect to find on the body of any swordsman or the even more random scars that he would expect to find on someone who had been as active and troublesome a child as Wei Wuxian no doubt had been. The small birthmark on the inside of Wei Wuxian’s left elbow is a delightful surprise, and Lan Wangji looks forward to kissing that mark often. In fact, he’s about to start there when he notices the thick scar on Wei Wuxian’s abdomen, which is like no ordinary training or childhood injury. Indeed, it looks like a surgical scar, but Lan Wangji has never heard that Wei Wuxian has had an injury or ailment that would require an invasive surgery. Especially not recently; while completely healed, this scar is relatively new. Perhaps Wei Wuxian was injured when the Wen attacked Lotus Pier? Or, no, he missed almost all the fighting there, sent away by Madam Yu. Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian and his siblings stayed for a while with Wen Qing after the Lotus Pier massacre, but Wen Qing has never mentioned anything about performing a surgery on Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying—” he starts, reaching out to touch the scar. It occurs to him that it’s right over Wei Wuxian’s golden core, and when his fingers brush skin he also reaches out with his own spiritual energy to feel for the assurance of that glowing power inside Wei Wuxian—only to find that it’s not there. “Wei Ying. What—what the fuck.”

Wei Wuxian, who had been reclining, eyes closed, one hand meandering up towards his own cock while he enjoyed Lan Wangji’s attention, freezes and opens his eyes with a groan of dismay when he realizes what Lan Wangji has noticed. “Lan Zhan!”

“Wei Ying, what have you done?”

Wei Wuxian scrambles up to a sitting position on the bed, covering his scar with one hand and grabbing Lan Wangji’s wrist with the other.

“Lan Zhan, don’t be angry. Or worried. Or whatever. It’s—it’s a long story. And it’s not just mine.”

“Tell me.” Lan Wangji settles on the bed next to Wei Wuxian and watches him intently.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian dithers. “So do you remember when Lotus Pier was taken? And Jiang Cheng and Shijie and I were on the run? And then Jiang Cheng got captured by Wen Chao and I had to go extract him from Lotus Pier and only got him out of there with Wen Ning’s help?”

“I wasn’t there, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji was busy at the time, still reeling from his own losses at Cloud Recesses.

“Well, when Jiang Cheng was captured, Wen Zhuliu—you know, ‘Core-Melting Hand’—well, he destroyed Jiang Cheng’s golden core. But Wen Qing and I scoured all the medical texts we could find looking for a way to fix it, and—”

“A golden core transplant?” Lan Wangji says softly. “No one else has ever done it before. It was just a theory, Wei Ying!”

“But it worked! Wen Qing was the best doctor in Qishan, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji exhales a deep sigh. “Well, this explains some things, at least.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t make that face. Honestly, I’m kind of glad for you to know about this. Now we don’t have to have any secrets between us.”

“Wei Ying. Stop treating this lightly. I can’t believe—” and Lan Wangji stops before he says something that sounds, even to his own ears, like Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian’s face turns serious, and he moves his hand from Lan Wangji’s wrist to tangle their fingers together and draw him closer.

“I know it’s serious, Lan Zhan. But it’s also already done. And I don’t know what other option I had. Jiang Cheng seemed like he was dying without his core, and I couldn’t stand to watch him waste away in Wen Qing’s spare bedroom. I promised Jiang-zongzu and Yu-furen that I would give up my life to protect him. But he didn’t need my life after all. He couldn’t lead the sect if he couldn’t cultivate anymore, and that’s all he’s ever wanted to do, even since we were little.”

“What did Wen Qing say about it?”

“She didn’t like it, obviously. But we were pretty sure that there was a fifty percent chance of success, and after everything that had happened, those felt like decent odds.”

“Fifty percent!” Lan Wangji’s chest hurts just imagining it. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s face goes a little hard, defensive. “He’s my brother, Lan Zhan. I swore that I would help him rebuild Lotus Pier and the Jiang sect. That I’d be with him forever.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow at this, and Wei Wuxian looks a little ashamed.

“Okay, so I’m not there with him now, but I’ve set him up so that he doesn’t need me anymore. My core was a pretty good one, after all.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji is, frankly, aghast.

“What else do I have to offer at this point, Lan Zhan?”

“Wei Ying.”

“I can’t cultivate properly anymore, Lan Zhan. I can’t hold my sword for more than a handful of minutes. Why do you think I stopped carrying Suibian? I’m clever with spells and talismans, and I can play Chenqing to raise the dead, but I know—though I’ve argued with you about it before—that that’s not a sustainable way to cultivate. Jiang Cheng has never liked to take my advice, and I’ve pissed off every sect leader in the land so well and so often that there’s no chance of me making an advantageous marriage alliance—”

Lan Wangji is surprised into a snorting laugh. “Wei Ying, would you even want an advantageous marriage alliance?”

Wei Wuxian had looked like he was winding up to continue his tirade, but now he stops and just looks at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan, are you laughing at me?”

“Maybe a little. But you are the one who forced me to picture you being married off to one of the Ouyang sisters or someone. Can you imagine?”

Lan Wangji is upset and worried about Wei Wuxian and broadly angry at the situation and specifically angry at Wen Qing (who ought to have been more sensible), but picturing Wei Wuxian married to any of the women of their acquaintance is nevertheless unspeakably hilarious to him. At the same time, the thought of Wei Wuxian in wedding reds and golds stirs something hungry inside Lan Wangji. He thinks about bowing to his ancestor in the Cold Spring Cave, tied to Wei Wuxian with his own Lan ribbon, and wonders if Wei Wuxian is aware of the significance of that, of just how like a traditional Lan handfasting that actually was. It wasn’t enough to constitute a proper marriage, but it could be considered something like a betrothal if both parties were certain of their intentions. It occurs to Lan Wangji that he has been sure of his intentions towards Wei Wuxian for years. He resolves to think more about this later.

“Lan Zhan! Surely you would agree that I could do better than an Ouyang girl! I was ranked the fourth most eligible cultivator of our generation back when those things mattered, I’ll have you know.”

“The Ouyang sisters are strong cultivators,” Lan Wangji says with a completely straight face.

“You are missing the point anyway, Lan Zhan. And mocking me when I am being serious.” Wei Wuxian huffs and pouts a little.

Lan Wangji turns stern. “Wei Ying. You have done Jiang Cheng a disservice by not telling him the truth. You’ve done yourself a disservice by not telling anyone. You wouldn’t even have told me if you hadn’t—what?—forgotten that there is an ugly scar that I was bound to notice in exactly this fashion?”

“I was pretty distracted, Lan Zhan—”

“Don’t joke, Wei Ying. You’re correct that this isn’t something to laugh about. Everyone thinks you’ve turned to demonic cultivation methods because you’re evil and ambitious. They think you’ve collected an army of Wen cultivators and come here to summon the dead and come back to wreak vengeance on the other sects. When instead you’ve just done as much self-sacrificing as possible and fled here to hide out from them. This is a thing that should be dealt with.”

“You make it sound like this is all a matter of miscommunication and mistakes that just need to be talked out between reasonable people.”

“I know it is not. It will take time. I will help you.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I don’t deserve you.” Wei Wuxian hides his face in his hands and makes a sound like a little sob.

“You told me in Qinghe that I could help you. So let me. We’ll figure it out, Wei Ying. All of it.” Lan Wangji wishes he felt as certain as he sounds, even to himself.

Wei Wuxian sniffles and reaches out for Lan Wangji, who draws him into a tight embrace. It’s too late now to recapture the mood—there will be time for that later, Lan Wangji promises himself—so Lan Wangji simply holds Wei Wuxian gently, letting him cry, petting him and murmuring soft words of reassurance into his hair until they both fall asleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Wei Wuxian is quiet and a little reserved, and Lan Wangji allows it. He supposes that neither of them are ready yet to talk more about the revelation of the previous night, and so they rise and dress in silence. Still, before they leave their room to go find some breakfast, Lan Wangji manages to grab one of Wei Wuxian’s hands and pull him close for a firmly thorough kiss.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian laughs a little, but his smile doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replies. “We will figure this all out. Together.”

Breakfast is bland congee and some of the tart apples that are endemic to the mountain, and the first half of it passes in silence. Lan Wangji is extremely aware, as he sips his morning tea, that he doesn’t actually miss the silent meals of Cloud Recesses at all, and he’s pleased when Granny Wen and a-Yuan join them partway through. Granny Wen isn’t talkative in the morning, but she’s kind, and a-Yuan more than makes up for anyone else’s reticence by chattering a mile a minute.

“A-die!” the boy is saying as he crawls up into Lan Wangji’s lap. “Today, Granny says I can help her weed the field and we can look for the good kind of bugs that the plants need to help them grow! And then Auntie Qing says I can help her make medicines!”

“That sounds like a productive day, a-Yuan. Make sure you do your best to follow instructions and be helpful.”

“What will you be doing today, a-die?”

“Well, this morning, I have to talk to your auntie about something important. But maybe this afternoon you can show me how many characters you remember how to write. If you remember all the ones we’ve already practiced, I can show you a new one.”

Lan Wangji has been slowly introducing characters to a-Yuan, who is bright and curious and eager to learn. He’s also begun introducing the boy to meditation in short stretches, mostly as a prelude to his afternoon naps. Wen Yuan is still very young, but Lan Wangji has high hopes that he will develop into a strong cultivator as he grows up. He only wishes that there were other children around for a-Yuan to grow up with. Maybe. Someday. He looks over at Wei Wuxian to find him watching them with a strange, tender look on his face.

“Wei Ying, what are your plans for the day?” he asks.

“I have some new talismans I want to try on Wen Ning. He seems so close to waking up, and I have a couple of ideas that might speed up this last stretch of healing.”

“Wen Qing will be glad to hear that,” Lan Wangji replies. “Would you like me to send her to you when I’m done talking to her?”

“If you want, sure.”

With that, Wei Wuxian gets up to leave. Lan Wangji watches him walk away, concerned. He hates when Wei Wuxian gets moody and distant like this, but he suspects that Wei Wuxian is feeling insecure after the previous night. Wei Wuxian never has liked for people to find out his secrets. Lan Wangji sighs, fondly and frustratedly. Hopefully it will pass quickly. He returns his attention to a-Yuan, who is making a mess with breakfast.

With breakfast finished and a-Yuan cleaned up and hugged and kissed atop his head and sent on his way to pull weeds and look at bugs with Granny Wen, Lan Wangji is ready to go find Wen Qing only to discover that she has found him first.

“I ran into Wei Wuxian a few minutes ago,” she says. “He said you needed to speak with me.”

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath to steady himself and just goes for it with no preamble: “I need to know about the golden core transfer you performed.”

“I wondered how long it would take him to tell you about that.”

“There’s a scar,” Lan Wangji says simply, meeting Wen Qing’s steady gaze.

Wen Qing’s lips quirk into something like a smile.

“So, he didn’t tell you, after all. Oh, Wei Wuxian,” she says sadly, fondly, frustratedly. “What do you want to know, Hanguang-jun?”

“Everything,” he says.

And so he listens as she tells him how her brother brought the Jiang siblings and Wei Wuxian to her in Yiling after the fall of Lotus Pier. How Jiang Yanli was feverish and Jiang Cheng seemed as if he might die of grief and Wei Wuxian was nearly mad with worry over his siblings. She tells him how Wei Wuxian spent days without sleeping, researching every medical text he could get his hands on, looking for a way to help Jiang Cheng, and begging her assistance. She tells him about the chance encounter with Song Lan, exactly the sort of romantic self-sacrificing idiot that Wei Wuxian should never be exposed to lest he follow that example, and she tells about Wei Wuxian’s scheme for them to actually perform the transfer. Finally, she tells him the details of the actual procedure, tells him that it took nearly two days and that Wei Wuxian was awake the whole time, admits that even fifty percent was just a guess about their chances since no one else had ever performed the core transfer successfully.

By the time Wen Qing finishes, there are tears on both their faces.

“So the procedure removes the entire core? And it can’t be restored?” Lan Wangji asks, perhaps a little desperately.

The sound Wen Qing makes is not a laugh. “You sound just like him.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji responds, doing his best to sound like only himself. “Tell me.”

“The truth is, Hanguang-jun, that I don’t know. You know Wei Wuxian better than anyone. He was so insistent, and he was so certain that the chances were good enough and that even if we failed it would be worth it. And I—I wanted to do it. For science. And for Jiang Cheng.”

Lan Wangji detects a note of bitter sorrow in Wen Qing’s voice and sees a shadow cross her face when she says this. Ah. That’s why she performed the procedure. He hadn’t known until now that Wen Qing was attached to Jiang Cheng—hadn’t, honestly, thought she was the kind of woman to get attached to anyone besides her brother, for whom she seems prepared to sacrifice anything and everything. Whatever anger he was feeling towards her dissipates; Lan Wangji, who has recently run off in the night to follow the man who isn’t even his lover, would only feel like a hypocrite for judging her.

“There are some possibilities,” Wen Qing continues, almost to herself. “It could be that a new core could be grown and trained from scratch, although I doubt it would ever be as strong as the one he gave up. Another core transfer, perhaps even just a partial one, if there was someone who was willing—although the lack of willing donors is the biggest reason why it had never been done before. And dual cultivation, although my knowledge of that is limited. I know it’s supposed to increase the power of both cultivating participants, but I don’t know what that would look like if one partner has as little spiritual power as Wei Wuxian has left.”

Lan Wangji sighs, sniffles a little, which he knows is undignified and thinks over these possibilities.

“I don’t know that Wei Wuxian would want to spend years rebuilding what he’s lost when he’s as clever as he is with spells and talismans,” Wen Qing concludes. “It may be that our best bet is to just try and keep him from doing anything disastrous or evil. Perhaps focus on getting him to use Chenqing properly. The Lan cultivate with music, after all.”

“We need books,” Lan Wangji says, suddenly missing the library at Cloud Recesses desperately.

He must look truly miserable because Wen Qing, not a tactile person herself, reaches out and squeezes one of his hands firmly, reassuringly. Lan Wangji has never had a sister, only a brother, and Lan Xichen hasn’t been physically affectionate with him in probably ten years. Wen Qing’s simple gesture is so kind and so good that it’s almost overwhelming.

“I’m so sorry, Hanguang-jun. I wish I had better answers for you. For him.”

“Please, call me Lan Wangji. I’m not Hanguang-jun here.”

“Lan Wangji, then,” Wen Qing replies. “If we had more books and more time, and if Wei Wuxian was more biddable, maybe we could figure something out.”

“Hm. I will see what I can do,” Lan Wangji says and goes to pen a letter to his brother before finding a-Yuan to practice writing.

The morning that Wen Ning finally wakes up finds Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing all at Wen Ning’s side. Lan Wangji is playing his qin with Wei Wuxian accompanying him on Chenqing while Wen Qing sits quietly slouching next to her brother as she reads an ancient medical text that she dug up in the ruined library of Demon-Subdue Palace. They have known for a while that Wen Ning could wake up at any time, but it still comes as a surprise when he finally heaves a great sigh and opens his eyes to look around at them, confused and disoriented.

“A-Ning!” Wen Qing’s book falls to the floor as she sits up to grasp Wen Ning’s hand.

“A-jie?” Wen Ning asks. “What—what happened? Where are we?”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stop playing as soon as they realize what is happening. Wei Wuxian rushes over to stand next to Wen Qing at Wen Ning’s bedside. Wen Qing is crying softly, and Wei Wuxian puts his arms around her comfortingly, though Lan Wangji can see tears on Wei Wuxian’s cheeks as well. Lan Wangji hangs back a little; he doesn’t know Wen Ning well and doesn’t want to overwhelm him or intrude on the moment that Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian are sharing. Instead, Lan Wangji goes to find some food and water; they’ve been keeping Wen Ning alive by pouring liquids down his throat, but he has still grown gaunt during the weeks of his convalescence.

By the time Lan Wangji returns with a couple of apples and a bowl of cold rice leftover from breakfast, Wen Ning has been helped to sit up and Wen Qing is examining him thoroughly and asking him questions about how he feels. They had worried, when they first came to the Burial Mounds, that Wen Ning was in pain, as he’d often moaned and thrashed while he was unconscious. It had taken them days to find the right music to soothe him, and they’d still worried.

“I’m really not in pain, a-jie,” Wen Ning is saying. “I just feel… tired? I know I’ve just woken up, but I feel exhausted.”

“That’s normal, probably!” Wei Wuxian replies. “Right, Wen Qing?”

Wen Qing doesn’t respond right away, just checks her brother for fever, feels his pulse, hovers a hand over his abdomen and pulses a stream of qi into him to check for any hidden abnormalities.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “A-Ning, you were mostly dead, and now you seem to be more or less alive and well. If all you are is tired, that may be the best we can hope for right now.”

“I’ve brought food,” Lan Wangji says, holding out the cold bowl of congee to Wen Qing. “Food will help. As will more rest.”

Wei Wuxian makes a disgruntled sound at that, but Wen Qing nods in agreement and feeds her brother the congee. Wen Ning makes it about halfway through the bowl before he quietly slips back off to sleep.

Later that afternoon, Lan Wangji is taking his turn to watch over Wen Ning while Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing break for lunch. He had begun playing Cleansing and then Clarity, but when Wen Ning wakes again, Lan Wangji is playing the love song he wrote for Wei Wuxian in the library at Cloud Recesses, years ago. He’s so absorbed in his playing that he doesn’t realize right away that Wen Ning’s eyes have opened. It’s only when he finishes the song and looks up from the strings of his qin that he notices Wen Ning staring at him.

“Welcome back, Wen Qionglin.”

“H-Hanguang-jun,” Wen Ning stammers as he struggles to sit up. “I would not have expected to find you here.”

Lan Wangji sets aside the qin and stands to pour Wen Ning a cup of water. He sits patiently while Wen Ning drinks. Some color has come back to Wen Ning’s face since he’s been conscious, but he’s still pale and still carries black lines like cracks in the skin of his neck. The black lines have receded from the younger man’s face, but Lan Wangji suspects that Wen Ning will always bear the marks of his near-death and almost-resurrection.

“Wei Wuxian and your sister will be back shortly. They were hungry. And perhaps a little bored. We’ve all been watching you sleep for weeks, and I think they’ve gotten tired of my songs.” Lan Wangji smiles a little, and Wen Ning’s eyes widen in surprise so great that he looks a little like a confused baby owl.

“Did—did Hanguang-jun just make a joke?”

Lan Wangji ignores the question. “How are you feeling, Wen Qionglin?”

“Better, I think. Hungry again, or still. Where are we?”

“Your sister is supposed to bring food back with her. We are at the Burial Mounds, a little outside of Yiling. We fled here, after. Do you know what has happened to you?”

“I-I don’t remember much,” Wen Ning whispers. “I remember the camp. And th-the Jin guards deciding to use some of us as bait for their night hunt. They… wanted to attract more exciting prey than we ‘Wen scum’ were. And then they started killing us.”

Lan Wangji isn’t quite able to stifle a dismayed and outraged noise.

“But then I heard music. While I was sleeping. It—you, and Wei-gongzi and a-Jie—called me back, I think. Thank you,” Wen Ning says earnestly.

“You and your sister saved Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says after a moment. “I would always have helped you.”

Wen Ning gives Lan Wangji a strange look, suddenly thoughtful and incisive in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of Wen Qing.

“You should tell Wei-gongzi that you’re in love with him.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is red. He can feel the burning flush all the way from his neck to the very tips of his ears.

“I—”

Wen Ning huffs a small laugh. “Lan-er-gongzi, I was barely even at Cloud Recesses, and even then I could see it. I am glad that you are here, I know I owe some of my recovery to you, but I know—I know—that you are here for him.”

“Not entirely,” Lan Wangji manages.

He hears Wen Qing’s laughter behind him and suspects that she has heard most of this conversation.

“Oh, Hanguang-jun,” Wen Qing says. “You have such a gift for understatement. ‘Not entirely.’” She laughs again, though not unkindly.

Lan Wangji tries to frown but knows it’s more like a pout. “I’ve told you that I’m not Hanguang-jun anymore.”

“Lan Wangji.” There’s still laughter in Wen Qing’s voice, but her face has turned serious. “My brother is right. You should tell Wei Wuxian how you feel. He’s not going to figure it out on his own.”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji knows that he’s still pouting, but he doesn’t know what to say to Wen Qing. He knows she’s right. Wei Wuxian is terrible at correctly perceiving other people’s feelings, and Lan Wangji has no reasonable expectation that Wei Wuxian will understand the pattern of their escalating intimacy or receive Lan Wangji’s acts of service as the demonstrations of devotion they are intended to be. Lan Wangji, of course, is just terrible at verbally communicating what he wants, but at least he’s self-aware of his shortcomings and doesn’t need the Wen siblings to judge him about it.

“Fine,” Wen Qing smirks. “We won’t talk about it anymore. Let’s eat. I brought enough food for all of us.”

The tray she sets down on the room’s table is laden with rice and fruit and steamed vegetables, and Lan Wangji starts dividing it up into portions for each of them while Wen Qing fusses over her brother. While they eat, the Wen siblings kindly drop the topic of Lan Wangji’s feelings for Wei Wuxian in favor of talking about their plans for the future. Wen Qing is more animated and hopeful than Lan Wangji has ever known her to be as she fills Wen Ning in on what has happened while he was indisposed and shares with him their plans to cleanse the Burial Mounds and lay its dead to rest.

“Now that you are awake, a-Ning, you can help us,” she says. “Wei Wuxian isn’t completely convinced, yet, but he will see how much easier it makes our lives here.”

After lunch, Wen Ning goes back to sleep, Wen Qing goes to find Granny Wen (who, Lan Wangji gathers, is in the midst of preparing some kind of celebratory dinner) and Lan Wangji goes to find Wei Wuxian. He finds him inspecting the wards at the edge of their compound with Fourth Uncle and a-Yuan. Fourth Uncle is holding a-Yuan up so that the boy can pull apples off the trees and drop them into a small bag while Wei Wuxian is pointing to spots along the edge of the warded barrier and explaining something that has Fourth Uncle listening indulgently and nodding in absent-minded agreement. Lan Wangji’s heart swells with fondness at the sight of them as he walks closer.

It’s a-Yuan who spies him first, and a-Yuan’s loud cry of “a-die!” alerts Wei Wuxian and Fourth Uncle that they have company. Fourth Uncle releases a now-squirming a-Yuan, who runs straight to Lan Wangji and wants to be picked up and carried. Lan Wangji of course swings a-Yuan into his arms immediately, earning a look from Wei Wuxian, who thinks that he spoils the child. Lan Wangji pointedly ignores the look and asks a-Yuan how they have been spending the day.

“A-die, Xian-gege is telling us all about the wards that keep us safe! He says you helped him build them. When will I be able to help?”

“When you’re much older, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji says with a soft smile. “But you’ve already started to learn some of the things you will need to know, like writing and meditation.”

A-Yuan’s eyes grow wide. “Really?” he breathes.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, seriously, even as his heart swells almost painfully with love for this sweet, earnest child.

“You must listen carefully to Lan-er-gongzi,” Fourth Uncle says to a-Yuan. “If anyone can train you up into a strong cultivator, it’s this young master.”

“Hey!” says Wei Wuxian, indignant. “I can help, too!”

A-Yuan looks skeptical and Lan Wangji stifles a smile.

“Wei Ying does know more than I do about talismans and spells,” Lan Wangji says modestly. “The wards were his design. I only helped construct them. A-Yuan will learn from both of us as he grows.”

The look Wei Wuxian gives him now is full of some soft emotion that Lan Wangji can’t quite identify, but the look that Fourth Uncle gives the both of them is openly amused and more than a little speculative.

“It’s good to see you young men thinking about the future,” Fourth Uncle says with a grin. “Speaking of the immediate future, though, I’m told that there is going to be a dinner for Wen Ning tonight. I should tell you now, Wei-gongzi, that I have a new batch of apple wine ready, and I’m counting on you to help me test it.”

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to grin, and he spends most of their walk home peppering Fourth Uncle with questions about the wine and how it’s made while Lan Wangji answers a-Yuan’s many, many questions about everything they see on the way.

Dinner is a veritable feast.

Wen Ning is well enough after sleeping through the afternoon that Wen Qing allows that he is probably strong enough to walk the short distance to a table out of doors, that the exercise and fresh air will do him some good, and it falls to Lan Wangji to help Wen Ning bathe and dress, much to Wen Ning’s quiet mortification. By the time they make it to the gathering, it seems that most of the Wen and Wei Wuxian are at least half drunk on Fourth Uncle’s apple wine in addition to being overjoyed to see Wen Ning up and about after so long.

Lan Wangji guides Wen Ning to where Wen Qing is sitting, and she stands to help her brother into a seat of his own.

“Thank you for bringing him, Lan Zhan,” she says with a smile. “A-Ning, you are looking as well as you have in weeks.”

“A-jie. This is, uh, a lot,” Wen Ning says.

“I know you’ve just woken up, a-Ning, but we’ve all been waiting for this for weeks,” Wen Qing says apologetically. “There’s been little enough to celebrate, these days.”

“We’re all so happy that you’ve finally woken up, Wen-gongzi,” Granny Wen says, overhearing. “You should forgive everyone for celebrating perhaps a little too enthusiastically. We probably won’t have a party like this again unless there is a wedding,” she adds with a meaningful look at Lan Wangji, which he steadfastly ignores despite the flush he can feel spreading to the tips of his ears.

“Nonsense, Granny,” Wen Qing replies smoothly. “I think we will have many opportunities to celebrate in the future.”

Lan Wangji tosses Wen Qing a grateful look, but Granny Wen isn’t appeased.

“There really is no reason why you and Wei-gongzi don’t marry,” the older woman tells Lan Wangji. “It wasn’t done when I was a girl, but these days it’s not unusual for two men to tie the knot. And in a case like this, where it’s so clearly a love match, well…”

“Granny!” Wen Qing exclaims. “Surely you will allow that the young masters must figure this out between themselves.”

“There’s a reason such things are so often left to clan elders to decide,” Granny Wen continues incorrigibly. “Young masters seldom know their own minds when it comes to affairs of the heart."

Lan Wangji frowns, Wen Qing laughs and Wen Ning looks speculatively at Lan Wangji but doesn’t say anything.

“I know my mind on the matter,” Lan Wangji says and then pointedly does not sulk for the rest of the evening. He makes a real effort to simply celebrate their success in reviving Wen Ning and tries not to think at all about why he doesn’t make his mind known to Wei Wuxian.

By the time Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stagger back to their room, Wei Wuxian fully drunk and Lan Wangji exhausted after such a long day and a late-for-him evening, it’s all they can do to peel each other out of their robes and collapse together in bed clad only in their underthings. It’s the first time since they’ve been sharing a bed that Wei Wuxian has been this inebriated, and Lan Wangji is both moderately amused and mildly irritated to find that alcohol turns Wei Wuxian clumsily amorous. Lan Wangji thinks to himself that someday they will have fun with this tendency, but not for their first time. Tonight, Lan Wangji determinedly limits himself to more or less chaste kisses and soothing touches as Wei Wuxian seems intent on having his mouth and hands on every single part of Lan Wangji he can reach.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji attempts to say sternly, firmly pulling Wei Wuxian’s hands away from his ass and holding them against his chest instead while he lets Wei Wuxian kiss him. “We should sleep.”

“But, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian wiggles his hands in Lan Wangji’s grip and draws the vowels of his name out in a breathy whine.

“You are drunk, Wei Ying. Let’s do this in the morning.”

Lan Wangji gets the gratification of seeing Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen at this.

“Mark your words, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian manages to free his arms and wrap them around Lan Wangji, nuzzling into the hollow of Lan Wangji’s throat and promptly passing out almost as soon as they are settled horizontally.

Lan Wangji huffs a quiet laugh and squirms so he can hold Wei Wuxian tighter as he drifts off to sleep himself. He dreams of Wei Wuxian in red.

Chapter Text

They do not pick up where they left off in the morning, because Wei Wuxian is extremely hungover. Lan Wangji is already wide awake and dressed and working on combing a few tangles out of his hair by the time Wei Wuxian stirs.

“Lan Zhan! Remind me in the future to never have more than a cup or two of Fourth Uncle’s apple wine,” Wei Wuxian says as he struggles to get up.

“You were warned last night,” Lan Wangji points out, “by me and by Wen Qing.”

Lan Wangji feels a burst of overwhelming fondness when Wei Wuxian glares at him.

“It’s very rude of you to look so relaxed and well-rested when I feel so awful, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.”

“Ugh, fine. I’m sure we have work to do today, so I’m getting up, but I’m not happy about it.”

Lan Wangji finishes tying his hair up in a sensible topknot, ties his forehead ribbon on, and walks over to kiss Wei Wuxian thoroughly. Wei Wuxian wraps his arms around Lan Wangji’s shoulders and insistently presses into the kiss, but Lan Wanji heroically pulls away after a couple of minutes.

“I am going to go check in on Wen Ning and see if Wen Qing needs help with anything,” Lan Wangji says. “You should get up to care for a-Yuan. I will see you for lunch.”

The thing is, Lan Wangji can’t stop thinking about what Granny Wen said at dinner the night before. Despite what he said to her then, it really hadn’t occurred to him that he and Wei Wuxian could or should be married, but now the idea has taken root in the deepest corners of Lan Wangji’s heart and is demanding a lot of serious consideration. It’s extremely distracting, and he needs to talk to someone about it.

Lan Wangji is surprised to find Wen Qing alone so early in the morning. He rather expected her to be breaking her fast with her brother, or with Madam Wen and a-Yuan, but instead she is busily cleaning up the room that had functioned as a makeshift infirmary for Wen Ning. She looks a little tired this morning, but there’s a lightness in Wen Qing’s demeanor that Lan Wangji hasn’t before observed during their acquaintance.

“Hanguang-jun. Good morning. Did you rest well?” Wen Qing asks when she notices him.

Lan Wangji makes a noncommittal sound in response. He dreamed of a wedding and woke up rock hard, sexually frustrated and confused, but he did, technically, get enough sleep.

“I’m surprised you aren’t with your brother. Also, please, please don’t call me Hanguang-jun.”

“Ugh, fine, Lan Wangji.” Wen Qing’s tone is affectionate, but she still rolls her eyes at him. “A-Ning is sleeping. I expect he will continue to be easily tired for some time. Where is Wei Wuxian?”

“I woke him before I left this morning, but he seemed hungover. I don’t know how much use he’ll be for anything today. I suggested that he take care of a-Yuan.”

“Hah. At least then the rest of us will be able to get more work accomplished. I think I’d like to set this room up properly for caring for those who become sick or injured,” Wen Qing says.

Lan Wangji nods immediate agreement. “That’s a good idea. It’s close to the fountain, for water, and it’s close to the library, even if we do need more books. There’s even a set of rooms nearby that could be cleaned out and made into permanent quarters for a doctor.”

Wen Qing smiles. “I have to admit, Lan Zhan, I have been surprised at how quickly you’ve settled in here. You always were capable, but I’m not sure I would have guessed you had it in you to live like this. Hanguang-jun always seemed so aloof. A little fragile, sheltered perhaps.”

“Hanguang-jun was,” Lan Wangji admits ruefully. “I have surprised myself a little. This is not—not the life I ever thought I would have, but now that I’m here I can’t imagine wanting to go back to what I was before.”

“Hm,” is Wen Qing’s answer. “So, when are you going to marry Wei Wuxian?”

Lan Wangji had been about to say something about how he appreciated the way the Wen had accepted him as part of their family and how much that acceptance meant to him, but now he is slightly aghast at Wen Qing’s straightforward question.

“We haven’t, uh, talked about marriage,” Lan Wangji says.

“Okay,” Wen Qing says, “but you are sleeping together, right? You look at him like you never want to look at anything else. You followed him here, to the end of the fucking world, Lan Wangji, to save people you didn’t even know. You’ve adopted a child, and you’ve given up your white robes, and you’ve defied every rule and authority in your life for him.”

“Not just for him,” Lan Wangji protests. “And we share a bed, but we haven’t, uh, you know...”

Wen Qing gives him a pitying look. Lan Wangji wonders if Jiang Yanli has given Wei Wuxian a similar look before, wonders if this is what it’s like to have a sister.

“I mean, we, uh, are intimate in other ways,” Lan Wangji continues, lamely.

“You act as if you are together,” Wen Qing says, plainly. “I know that this has been a strange time, and perhaps it hasn’t felt like the right time for confessing your feelings, but everyone in Cloud Recesses knew of your regard for Wei Wuxian back when we were students there. Your feelings are not new and not unexpected by anyone with eyes to see, Lan Zhan. What are you waiting for?”

Lan Wangji feels wretched. Sure, he told Madam Wen that he knew his mind when it came to Wei Wuxian, but knowing and doing are very different things.

“I don’t know,” he says, finally.

Wen Qing just shakes her head and gives him another pitying look, albeit wryer than the first one.

The rest of the day is long and tiring. Wen Ning finally wakes again in the afternoon, and Lan Wangji helps Wen Qing get her brother washed and dressed. It turns out that spending some six weeks bedridden and unconscious leaves a body weak and malnourished, despite the efforts of caregivers during that time. They agree that Wen Ning will likely need some weeks or months of treatments and exercises to re-strengthen his body slowly, but they disagree about what remedies are best. Lan Wangji favors meditation and slow stretching exercises, while Wen Qing advocates a more rigorous and strenuous program of strength exercises. Between the two of them they manage to settle on a program that is a blend of techniques from both the Lan and Wen sects.

Lan Wangji doesn’t see Wei Wuxian until the evening meal when Wei Wuxian and a-Yuan finally tumble back home, both of them tired and ravenous and with a-Yuan’s clothes filthy enough that Wen Qing is sure to be annoyed. Lan Wangji takes in the picture of them together—Wei Wuxian mussed and sweaty and a little sunburnt across the top of his nose, a-Yuan covered head to toe in grime but beaming as he tells Wen Qing and Madam Wen and Lan Wangji about his day—and feels as if his heart is going to burst out all over the dinner table. He only manages to avoid vomiting up his feelings in front of everyone by not looking directly at Wei Wuxian and busying himself by putting together a plate for a-Yuan.

“How was your day, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Do anything interesting?”

“Not as interesting as anything you and a-Yuan got up to, surely. Wen Qing and I cleaned up Wen Ning’s room and discussed making it into a permanent fixture for treating the sick and injured.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen and some strong emotion passes over his face making it look—just for an instant—as if he might cry.

“But, Lan Zhan, that’s a great idea!” He finally exclaims, reaching out for Lan Wangji’s hand.

“Wen Qing suggested it,” Lan Wangji says, nodding towards their friend. “I only agreed. It makes sense, and the room we kept Wen Ning in is well-situated for it.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian seems a little overcome, and when he looks at Lan Wangji, Lan Wangji can see that his eyes are a little red around the edges as if Wei Wuxian might be trying not to cry. “Always thinking towards the future, you two. Meanwhile, a-Yuan and I did nothing of consequence whatsoever today. We didn’t even practice his calligraphy, even though I know you’ll be disappointed.”

“We explored!” A-Yuan says. “I saw a lizard and a nest with tiny eggs in it and berries that would make me die if I ate them.”

Lan Wangji nods approvingly at the little boy and then says, while looking at Wei Wuxian: “Those are good things to see, and it’s important to know when things are not safe to eat. What else did a-Yuan learn today?”

Wei Wuxian hides his pleased and embarrassed smile behind his hands, and Lan Wangji is thrilled by the way praise seems to affect Wei Wuxian.

“Xian-gege showed me the—the wards—again! He said that when I get bigger I will be able to help keep it strong so that it will keep away people who want to hurt us. A-die?” A-Yuan looks worried. “Why do people want to hurt us?”

“Oh, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji says, pulling the rather grubby child into his lap and feeling thankful to have exchanged his white robes for un-ruinable gray today. “It’s hard to explain. But your Xian-gege and Auntie Qing and me are doing our best to keep all of us safe. You should not be worried.”

“I still don’t understand, a-die,” a-Yuan says, still frowning.

Lan Wangji sighs and looks at Wei Wuxian and then at Wen Qing, both of whom avert their gazes to avoid having to answer a-Yuan’s earnest questions. It’s not that it’s hard to explain, Lan Wangji thinks to himself; it’s just that the great sects’ antipathy towards the Wen survivors is such an absurd injustice that even a child would recognize it, and Lan Wangji feels ridiculous every time he thinks about how to articulate the situation to help a-Yuan understand it.

Lan Wangji doesn’t feel proud when he finally answers: “You’ll understand when you’re older, a-Yuan. Now eat your dinner.”

He can tell that Wei Wuxian is laughing at him a little, and Lan Wangji carefully keeps his face as expressionless as possible while he finishes dinner and goes to help Madam Wen wash dishes.

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian make it back to their room for the evening, Lan Wangji finds that he’s not nearly tired enough for sleep yet. Neither is Wei Wuxian, apparently, and they both putter around in silence for a few minutes, Wei Wuxian shuffling papers on the table and fiddling with a couple of devices he’s been working on while Lan Wangji strips off his outermost couple of layers and sits on their bed to read one of the books from the palace’s dilapidated library.

Eventually Lan Wangji sighs mightily and sets his book aside. “Someday we are going to have to explain everything to a-Yuan,” he says.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian replies. “Not yet, though. He’s so young... I want to keep him as safe as possible for as long as possible. I’m sure you feel bad about not being totally honest with him, Lan Zhan, but I’m glad. When I was a-Yuan’s age, my parents died and I was fighting dogs for food in the streets, and I can’t help but be glad for any child who doesn’t have to live like that. I don’t want a-Yuan to live in fear. Not ever.”

Lan Wangji hums in agreement, but he also sits up and beckons Wei Wuxian to bed. Wei Wuxian doesn’t bother undressing, just smiles softly as he practically collapses into Lan Wangji’s arms. For several minutes they just hold each other tightly, and when Lan Wangji thinks that Wei Wuxian might have fallen asleep he starts to reach for his book, only to have Wei Wuxian reach out lightning quick to grab his wrist.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says as Wei Wuxian presses a soft kiss on his palm. He gasps softly as more kisses follow the first; Wei Wuxian kisses each of Lan Wangji’s fingers and the inside of his wrist, then moves to kissing up the underside of Lan Wangji’s arm, fussing a little when he runs out of bare skin to touch and is forced to press kisses over the cloth of Lan Wangji’s undershirt. Wei Wuxian bites when he reaches the tender spot at the bend of Lan Wangji’s elbow, and this elicits a low groan from Lan Wangji.
Wei Wuxian is grinning when he shifts himself up to straddle Lan Wangji’s hips and settle in his lap.

“I love the noises you make, Lan Zhan. You’re usually so quiet, but when you do make a noise it just… does something to me.”

Lan Wangji only hums affirmatively in response to this, wraps his hands around Wei Wuxian’s slender waist (too thin, he thinks) and pulls him in for a kiss that quickly transforms from gentle to passionate when Wei Wuxian opens his mouth and moans against Lan Wangji’s lips. The only thing for Lan Wangji to do, of course, is to pull Wei Wuxian closer and shove his tongue into the other man’s throat. One of Lan Wangji’s hands migrates down to the curve of Wei Wuxian’s ass, and the other rises to tangle itself in Wei Wuxian’s already-disheveled hair, pulling his head back to expose the lean, pale curve of his throat, which Lan Wangji spends a long moment sucking and biting a dark mark into, right at the junction of Wei Wuxian’s neck and jaw.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines. “I need to be naked.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies and moves his hands to start methodically undressing Wei Wuxian while not taking a break from kissing him as thoroughly as possible.

It’s just moments before all the ties and buttons on Wei Wuxian’s clothing have been undone and his robes are sloughing off his wiry shoulders and tangling his hands behind his back while Lan Wangji lavishes him with wet open-mouthed kisses that move insistently down Wei Wuxian’s chest. Wei Wuxian gasps when Lan Wangji takes one pebbled nipple in his mouth, cries out when Lan Wangji worries at it with his teeth and then licks soothingly at it before shifting slightly to pay similar attention to Wei Wuxian’s other nipple. Lan Wangji leans back after a couple of minutes to look Wei Wuxian straight in the eye, resting his hands on Wei Wuxian’s slowly bucking hips until they still under his touch.

“Wei Ying. What do you want?” Lan Wangji is aware that his gaze is intense, but he’s pleased to see that Wei Wuxian doesn’t flinch or look away, just looks back steadily and as serious as Lan Wangji has ever seen him.

“I want you to fuck me, Lan Zhan. We’ve been dancing around for so long I don’t know if I can go another minute without you inside me.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is strained, and even as he says the words he’s wriggling out of the last layers of his robes and putting his hands on Lan Wangji’s broad shoulders.

Lan Wangji smiles and says, in a low voice, “It will probably be more than another minute, Wei Ying.” He reaches for a vial of oil that he keeps near the bed (just in case), and Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen a little and darken with arousal even as he laughs aloud.

“Lan Zhan, have I ever told you how funny you are?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughs even more.

Setting the vial of oil aside for the moment, Lan Wangji commits to divesting both himself and Wei Wuxian of the rest of their clothes and getting his mouth on every last inch of Wei Wuxian’s skin as he uncovers it. In short order, he has them both down to just the thin pants they wear beneath the layers of their robes. Wei Wuxian is spread out nearly naked beneath him on the bed, and there are no surprises this time. Lan Wangji begins to kiss and bite and lick every part of Wei Wuxian, paying special attention to every scar he uncovers, consumed with the single-minded desire to show Wei Wuxian how beautiful Lan Wangji finds him. Eventually Wei Wuxian stops laughing and starts gasping and moaning as his body writhes beneath Lan Wangji’s onslaught.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian manages to say as Lan Wangji kisses a wet trail down his chest and pauses to lavish attention on the surgical scar from the core transfer, leaving a series of swiftly darkening red marks along the line of the scar before moving along to follow the fine line of hair that leads below the waistband of Wei Wuxian’s thin trousers.

When Lan Wangji reaches the edge of the cloth, he catches it in his teeth and pulls it down, fingers assisting, brushing against the sharp bones of Wei Wuxian’s hips and then coming up to assist in the removal of this last piece of Wei Wuxian’s clothing. As he pulls Wei Wuxian’s pants off, Lan Wangji leans back to look—really look—at the man he loves.

“Wei Ying, you are so beautiful.”

This elicits a full-body flush from Wei Wuxian, who hides his face in his hands and laughs slightly hysterically.

“Lan Zhan! Stop!”

Lan Wangji kisses his way down Wei Wuxian’s thigh to his knee, where he sucks and bites another dark mark and continues on down to his ankle and then to Wei Wuxian’s toes, nibbling gently at them while Wei Wuxian gasps in either alarm or wonder.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, laughter in his tone. “I need you—”

Lan Wangji pauses. “What does Wei Ying need?”

“I—Lan Zhan, I know I said that maybe we should go slow because we’ve never done this before—”

“I have read books,” Lan Wangji says, standing to slough off his own pants before kneeling back down between Wei Wuxian’s legs.

“Books, huh?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is breathy with desire. “Enlighten me, then, Hanguang-jun.”

In the end, they enlighten each other, twice, before they collapse with exhaustion well past the time that they are usually, these days, both asleep. It’s a little awkward, and they laugh more than either of them, perhaps, expected to, but it’s nice. It’s good, and they promise, together, maybe unrealistically but nonetheless earnestly, to enlighten each other every day from now on. Finally, sticky and sated, they rest.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji isn’t sure what he expected when he wrote to his brother to ask for assistance, but he definitely did not think that Lan Xichen would show up in Yiling less than a week after Lan Wangji wrote to him. He especially did not expect for Xichen to arrive with an extremely angry Jiang Yanli. And he supposes that it is just plain bad luck that the two of them are able to ambush him on the streets of Yiling on one of his infrequent trips to town, a-Yuan in tow because the boy needed to expend some energy.

“Wangji!” he hears while he and a-Yuan are loitering around a fountain full of large koi near the center of town.

A-Yuan has asked approximately one hundred questions about the fish and has finally switched from interrogating Lan Wangji to telling his brand new stuffed bunny all the things that Lan Wangji just told him about the lives and habits of koi. Lan Wangji is just watching him fondly and attentively, ready to rescue the boy if he falls into the fountain, which he constantly seems like he’s about to do. Indeed, Lan Wangji is so focused on keeping a-Yuan from drowning that he rather embarrassingly almost jumps out of his skin when he hears his brother’s voice.

Lan Wangji turns away from a-Yuan, searches the crowd for Lan Xichen and finds him walking briskly towards him with, of all people, Wei Wuxian’s sister at his side looking as intensely serious as he’s ever seen her. He considers, for a panicked moment, using one of the talismans that Wei Wuxian has given him as a way for them to alert each other if they ever run into trouble or danger when parted, but he feels certain that Wei Wuxian would laugh at him for classing either of their siblings as a threat. Instead, he turns to pick up a-Yuan (who lets out a dismayed “A-die!” and squirms in his arms), partly because he doesn’t want the child to drown while he faces his brother and partly because he reasons that an adorable toddler will make an excellent human shield against the combined loving disappointment of Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli.

By the time Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli reach the fountain, a-Yuan has collapsed into a sulking dead weight on Lan Wangji’s shoulder (due for a nap, Lan Wangji thinks, although they haven’t even had lunch yet) and Lan Wangji has almost managed to compose himself sufficiently for the confrontation that is coming. Mostly, this amounts to making a concerted effort to school his features into the stoic blankness that never quite manages to hide his feelings from his brother (but which might still work against Jiang Yanli) but nevertheless functions to make Lan Wangji feel less unsettled than he really is.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen repeats as he draws close. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Jiang-guniang and I were planning on making the trek to the Burial Mounds tomorrow.”

“How, uh, fortuitous,” Lan Wangji manages. “Jiang-guniang, Wei Ying will be pleased to see you. I would bow, but—”

Obviously, his arms are full of sleepy toddler.

Lan Xichen nods kindly, and Jiang Yanli actually reaches out a hand to pat a-Yuan’s little shoulder.

“Who is your little friend, Hanguang-jun?” she asks kindly. “I heard him call you a-die, but I don’t think you had a child the last time I saw you.”

“This is—uh—a-Yuan. Lan—I mean Wen Yuan.” Lan Wangji can’t remember the last time he actually stuttered anything, and he can’t believe he’s stumbling over his words here just because he accidentally let slip one of his deepest unspoken desires in front of people. He gently jiggles a-Yuan. “Say hello, a-Yuan. This is my brother, Lan Xichen, and your Xian-gege’s sister—”

A-Yuan is not, habitually, a shy child, nor is he ordinarily disobedient, but today he is in, apparently, no mood for making new friends. He looks at Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, frowns mightily, hugs his bunny toy tighter and turns his face back into Lan Wangji’s neck.

“Don’t want,” a-Yuan says, and if Lan Wangji had hoped that only he could hear that, his hope is dashed when Xichen smiles indulgently (typical) and Jiang Yanli laughs out loud.

“Zewu-jun, I think we’ve surprised them both,” Yanli says with such good humor Lan Wangji feels it must be feigned. “I suppose it’s not fair to expect good manners when we’ve accosted them on a public street and interrupted this poor child’s fish-watching. Especially so near lunchtime. Hanguang-jun, you should let us take you to lunch. Surely by now you can recommend a good place.”

“Jiang-guniang, I’m sorry, but we are expected home soon—” Lan Wangji begins.

“Nonsense, Wangji,” his brother interrupts. “You must eat with us and tell us everything you’ve been doing these many weeks. Then we can go back with you since we were on our way there anyway.”

Lan Wangji looks between his brother and Wei Ying’s sister a little helplessly and finally nods his assent. Lunch it is.

After an unsuccessful attempt to get a-Yuan to walk on his own, Lan Wangji gives in and carries the boy while he shows Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli to the Yiling Teahouse that he and Wei Wuxian and Fourth Uncle go to when they have extra money (which isn’t often) and want decent food and a place to hear local gossip. The tea is actually quite good, and there is usually a table or two available where some semblance of privacy can be had. It occurs to Lan Wangji on the way there that maybe he shouldn’t count on this, but today (in this if in no other ways) he is lucky, and they are seated in a quiet corner away from other patrons.

Lan Wangji manages to peel a-Yuan off his shoulder and seat him on his lap only to have him curl into Lan Wangji’s chest and grab a fist full of his clothes.

“A-Yuan. You must take your own seat before our food arrives,” Lan Wangji says, tries to pry a-Yuan’s fingers from his outer robe and gives up when Lan Xichen starts right in on why he has come.

“I got your letter,” Lan Xichen says even before they’ve gotten their tea, “and it was vague enough about what you wanted and Shufu was so furious when he returned from his visit that I thought it best that I just come in person. It was just chance that I ran into Jiang-guniang when I arrived yesterday evening.”

This sounds plausible.

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli adds. “I, on the other hand, have received no communication from my brother at all, and when a-Cheng got back in a rage I also thought I should come in person. To make sure a-Xian is okay. And not dead somewhere on a haunted mountaintop.”

“Wei Ying is not dead,” Lan Wangji says carefully. “And reports of the haunted mountaintop are perhaps somewhat exaggerated.”

“Do tell.” Lan Xichen, again. “Shufu would have me believe that he found you possessed by the Yiling Patriarch and imprisoned in the depths of a cave surrounded by dead just waiting to be raised into a terrifying army fueled by resentful energy.”

“What?”

Jiang Yanli smoothly interjects: “A-Cheng said that you and my brother were living as if you were married and that you refused to leave the Burial Mounds even though you’re barely surviving there.”

Lan Wangji has to admit that Jiang Cheng’s account of things is closer to the truth, is actually basically the truth if he’s truly honest.

“We are not married,” is what Lan Wangji says aloud.

“So you aren’t sharing a bed like Shufu said?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji tries both to keep his face neutral and subtly gesture towards a-Yuan, hoping that the presence of a small child will end this line of questioning.

Fortunately, their tea arrives and pouring it while hampered by the continued presence of a toddler in his lap provides Lan Wangji with something else to concentrate on besides his brother’s patient questioning and Jiang Yanli’s sharp attention to every expression and noise Lan Wangji makes. He doesn’t know Wei Ying’s sister well, and he’s always rather thought she was a conventional young woman, but he’s seen flashes of steel in her before; now, he’s beginning to suspect that Jiang Yanli is much more than what she shows to the world. Lan Wangji doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“So what are you and Wei Wuxian doing at the Burial Grounds?” Jiang Yanli wants to know.

“Protecting the last of the Wen,” Lan Wangji replies, on firmer ground when asked to explain himself in his own words. “Wei Ying was right to free them on Qiongqi Way, and I didn’t think he should be alone. He has saved Wen Qionglin’s life. We are cleansing the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Xichen closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and prepares to speak only to be cut off by Jiang Yanli.

“So you have a plan?” she asks hopefully.

“Well, something like a plan,” Lan Wangji prevaricates.

Food arrives, and Lan Wangji carefully resettles a-Yuan in the seat next to him.

“Look, a-Yuan. Your favorite soup,” Lan Wangji points out, and a-Yuan finally perks up a little, grabs his spoon and digs in.

Lan Wangji turns to his own plate of rice and vegetables and picks at it in silence, hoping that Jiang Yanli is familiar with the Lan sect rule about silence during meals and that Lan Xichen won’t disregard it. Unfortunately, the comparable privacy of their table is the only stroke of luck he seems destined to have today. Between bites of his own meal, Lan Xichen continues to pepper Lan Wangji with questions about the last few months and about exactly what he and Wei Wuxian are up to at the Burial Mounds. A-Yuan watches, curious, looking between the adults as they speak.

“Shufu says he found you—uh—in a compromising situation with Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says.

“Mn.”

“He is concerned, Wangji.”

“He should not be.”

“I am concerned, Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Yanli says mildly. “For my brother and for you. Jiang Cheng says that the conditions at the Burial Mounds are worrisome. And I worry for a-Xian’s health. You told me yourself that his cultivation practices are dangerous. And I didn’t realize there was a child involved.”

“There were many vulnerable people held in the Jin sect’s prison camp. A-Yuan was just one of them.”

Lan Xichen sighs heavily and rolls his eyes at Lan Wangji’s deliberate reticence. Lan Wangji can tell that his brother can see right through it. Jiang Yanli is starting to be visibly frustrated, probably more used to dealing with her brothers’ more demonstrative styles of communication. Lan Wangji begins to wonder if he should set off that alarm talisman after all; he gets the distinct impression that Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli are there to help, not to judge, and he doesn’t actually know what to do with their goodwill. He also doesn’t entirely trust it. Lan Xichen did as little as anyone else to prevent the persecution and imprisonment of the Wen, and Jiang Yanli is betrothed to the heir to the Jin sect.

“Hanguang-jun, I just want to understand,” Jiang Yanli says. “You were so deeply concerned for a-Xian in Qinghe, but then you left Lanling with him even after you had seemed so at odds with each other. A-Cheng told me that a-Xian might have used resentful energy against him if you hadn’t been there to restrain him. He thinks you are the only person a-Xian will listen to at all now, and I need you to get a-Xian to talk to me. He just… hides so much from me. Even when he was little, he would smile through every pain and sadness he could, as if he never wanted to trouble us with his feelings.”

Yanli’s face crumples a little at the end of this speech.

Lan Wangji has no desire to see her weep, but he’s not sure if he can help, either. Wei Wuxian does the same with him, even now. Close as they are, Wei Wuxian still hides the softest and most vulnerable parts of himself under flirtation and jokes. He’s going to end up taking Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli back home with him, he can already tell. He wonders if he can surreptitiously send a paperman ahead of them to warn Wei Wuxian and decides that he’s not clever enough at talismans to do it without his brother or Yanli noticing.

A-Yuan looks curiously between Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli, pausing in shoveling soup into his mouth. Probably he doesn’t understand much of what the adults around him are talking about, but Lan Wangji knows that a-Yuan is an empathetic and kind child. When Yanli tears up, the boy reaches out to pat her gently on the hand, and it’s the sweetest thing Lan Wangji has seen all week and now he’s about to tear up, overwhelmed with fondness for the child that he already considers his own. Lan Wangji huffs out what, for him, is a heavy sigh.

“Jiang-guniang must come for a visit, then. Wei Ying will be glad to see you.” He turns to Lan Xichen. “Brother, you are of course welcome as well.”

Jiang Yanli smiles in relief, her tears drying almost instantly, and Lan Xichen looks unsurprised at the invitation and is apparently graciously willing to let Lan Wangji pretend that they weren’t going to just show up at his place regardless.

“After lunch, then?” Xichen asks.

Lan Wangji nods and finishes his meal in silence. He is pleased that a-Yuan behaves nicely through the rest of lunch, eating his own food and then excitedly telling Jiang Yanli about koi and his rabbit when she asks. Lan Wangji has always known that Wei Wuxian’s shijie is an absolutely delightful person, but he’s nevertheless left a little in awe of her kindness and patience with a-Yuan. By the time they are ready to leave, a-Yuan is asking Auntie Li to hold his hand on the walk home, which leaves Lan Wangji to walk with his brother and either carry on a conversation like an adult or risk seeming like a sulky child.

“I wish you would have sent word sooner, Wangji,” Lan Xichen begins as they allow Jiang Yanli and a-Yuan to draw far enough ahead of them on the trail up the mountain that they can only barely hear a-Yuan’s piping voice as he chatters at his new auntie (though not so far ahead that Lan Wangji can’t see a-Yuan).

“What word would you have had me send, Brother?”

“Literally any word at all would have been preferable to complete silence, Wangji. I don’t know if it would have prevented Shufu from barging in on you on literally top of your extremely disreputable lover, but it would certainly have helped me to worry less for you.”

Lan Wangji feels himself blushing furiously as he bristles at his brother’s frank words, and he can’t stop himself from gritting out, “Wei Ying and I are-were not lovers.”

“Wangji. You’re sharing a bed and, apparently, a child with the man,” Lan Xichen says slowly, as if Lan Wangji is a child to whom he’s explaining something extremely simple, “and you’ve been in love with him since he was at Cloud Recesses years ago—and he’s been in love with you. Shufu told me that he saw you wearing Wei Wuxian’s robes and that Wei Wuxian was handling your forehead ribbon. Regardless of your intentions, Shufu is treating this as an elopement.”

“But—” Lan Wangji is at a loss for words.

“Honestly, Wangji, there are worse options here. Marriage and a child that ties you by blood to the Wen remnants that you want to protect? You might have completely accidentally done exactly the things that will allow you to achieve your goals. I’d be impressed if I thought it was at all on purpose.”

Lan Wangji’s face is burning, and his chest hurts. Trust Lan Xichen, political animal that he is, to think something like this up.

“Brother—” Lan Wangji doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Wangji. Just tell me what you want from me.” Lan Xichen is visibly frustrated. “You write to me asking for books on golden core formation and dual cultivation, but you won’t say why, don’t even want me to mention it to Shufu, even though he is the one who brought news of your living arrangement to me and then I come here and find you with a child that calls you ‘a-die’! Forgive me, Wangji, if I am slightly confused.”

Lan Wangji stops and grabs his brother’s arm, pulling him close enough to whisper: “Wen Qing performed a golden core transfer. Wei Ying gave his core to Jiang Wanyin. Even Jiang Wanyin doesn’t know about it.”

Lan Xichen is shocked and dismayed. “So that’s why he stopped carrying his sword.”

“I need to know if there’s any way to heal him.”

“Of course,” Xichen says as if he suddenly understands everything. “I can see why you didn’t go to Shufu with this.”

“He cannot know, Brother. He has never liked Wei Ying, and I fear what he might do if he learned about this.” Lan Wangji is aware that he sounds desperate.

“Do not worry, Wangji. We will speak more of this in the coming days. I must examine Wei Wuxian and talk with Wen Qing myself. I told Shufu I would be gone at least a week.”

“A week?” Lan Wangji chokes out, already reaching into a pocket in his robes for an alarm talisman, which he sets off with barely another thought, although he thinks as soon as it’s done that Wei Wuxian is going to think this it’s hilarious that this is the thing that Lan Wangji felt was an emergency. “Surely you have duties that can’t be left that long. I didn’t think—”

Lan Xichen looks amused at his brother’s reaction, but his smile is followed by a flash of anger. “You can stop there, Wangji. It’s true that you didn’t think. And now I’m here to try and make sure you aren’t going to get yourself hurt or killed because of your rash decisions. If you want my help, you need to let me in.”

Lan Wangji has nothing to say to that, so he just starts walking again, faster than before, anxious to get home, needing Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen, mercifully, lets them move on in silence and follows behind him.

They quickly catch up to a-Yuan and Jiang Yanli, and Lan Wangji suppresses a very tiny, very smug smile when a-Yuan drops Yanli’s hand to tug on his own and ask for a-die to carry him the rest of the way home. Lan Wangji picks a-Yuan up, holds him close, and tries not to be overcome with tenderness as the child falls asleep and turns to dead weight in his arms.

Chapter Text

The walk up the mountain from Yiling to the Burial Mounds usually takes a couple of hours, and they’re maybe a mile away—already well into the gloomy forest that surrounds Demon-Subdue Palace—when Wei Wuxian, with Wen Ning close behind, comes jogging briskly around a bend in the trail, looking harried and with Chenqing in hand, and stops—goes completely still—when he sees who is with Lan Wangji.

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, and there are already tears in his eyes.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli replies, voice soft but with a note of steel in it that has Lan Wangji watching her keenly. She has seemed happy enough on their way up the mountain, smiling and chatting freely with a-Yuan before the boy fell asleep, but she’s not smiling now.

“Shijie, what are you doing here?” Wei Wuxian asks, taking a few steps closer to his sister and dropping to his knees before her.

At the same time, Jiang Yanli says, “A-Xian, what have you done? A-Cheng is furious.”

Jiang Yanli grabs Wei Wuxian’s hands, pulls him to his feet and into a hug, and Wei Wuxian is laughing a little and then they are both crying. Lan Wangji glances at Lan Xichen, who looks just as slightly mystified by the open display of emotion as Lan Wangji is.

When Jiang Yanli is done crying, but before Wei Wuxian is, she extricates herself from his arms and shakes him a little, her face suddenly turning stern. “A-Xian, I have never been so angry with you in my life!”

It’s the loudest that Lan Wangji has ever heard Jiang Yanli speak in all the years of their acquaintance.

Wei Wuxian is aghast. “Shijie!”

“I’m serious, Wei Wuxian. Fifteen years in our family, and you left without a word after all that talk about how important it was that the three of us stay together and rebuild Lotus Pier. A-Cheng is hot-tempered, and he’s often unreasonable, but it was wrong of you to leave us like you have. We needed you,” Jiang Yanli finishes.

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, gently taking her hands in one of his own and reaching up to cup the side of her face with his free hand. “I already gave Jiang Cheng everything I could. Wen Qing and Wen Ning and the rest—they needed me, too. No one else would have helped them.”

Jiang Yanli sighs softly, still frowning, and nods a little. “Maybe so, a-Xian, at least that night on Qiongqi Way, but you could have reached out after. Once you got settled here. Instead of waiting for people to come to you.”

Wei Wuxian huffs a sad little laugh. “I didn’t really think anyone would come, Shijie. Not to help, anyway. You are getting married. Jiang Cheng is too busy trying to ingratiate himself with the other sect leaders. He can be as angry at me as he likes, but he came to my home and asked me why he should care about people who I consider my family every bit as much as you are. Wen Qing and Wen Ning saved our lives, Shijie. How could Jiang Cheng ignore that?”

Jiang Yanli has the grace to blush a little. Lan Wangji thinks that she must understand why he and Wei Wuxian felt like even their siblings weren’t trustworthy when it came to the matter of what should be done with the Wen remnants. At the same time, he can tell that she’s still angry.

“A-Xian, you didn’t even give us a chance!”

“There were chances,” Lan Wangji can’t help but interject. “Many people had many chances to do the right thing before we fled that night.”

Jiang Yanli subsides into silence, and Wei Wuxian stands, collecting himself before he addresses his sister again: “Lan Zhan is right.”

“A-Xian!”

“No, Shijie. He’s right. We—all of us—had other opportunities to demand better for the Wen survivors, and the people that are left at the Burial Mounds suffered for it. They are all grieving. A-Yuan is orphaned, and he’s the only Wen child that’s even left. I can’t stop thinking about that, Shijie. Not ever.”

“Oh, a-Xian,” Jiang Yanli sighs. “You have always loved so recklessly.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flash with anger. “It shouldn’t be reckless to stand up for what’s right, Shijie.”

Jiang Yanli is a little taken aback by this. Lan Wangji can only guess that Wei Wuxian has never directed any real anger at her before. He’s honestly not sure that Jiang Yanli is correctly identifying Wei Wuxian’s feelings right now as real anger, and he interrupts as she’s about to try and say something soothing that he knows is only going to anger Wei Wuxian more. After weeks of sharing quarters and a bed with Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji knows that the other man is constantly on edge, worried about their new family and furious at the lack of support from their broader acquaintance within the cultivation world.

“Jiang-guniang. Please, join us for dinner. Meet the rest of our family here. See our home. Let’s not argue in the middle of the forest.”

While Lan Wangji is talking to Jiang Yanli, he also steps closer to Wei Wuxian, placing a steadying hand on the small of the other man’s back. He can feel the resentful energy gathering inside Wei Wuxian, and it worries him that he would have this sort of reaction even to his much-loved elder sister.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says quietly, lips almost brushing Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Let’s go home.”

Lan Wangji isn’t sure if it’s the soothing words or the casual display of intimacy that does it, but he can feel some of the simmering resentment leak out of Wei Wuxian, who relaxes and leans a little into Lan Wangji’s touch.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian breathes. “Shijie, I’m sorry. I’m glad you’ve come. Stay for dinner, and I will tell you all about what we are doing here.”

The rest of the walk back to the Burial Mounds is quiet except for the sounds of the forest, and even those fade the closer they get to Demon-Subdue Palace. Wei Wuxian lets Lan Wangji hold his hand the whole way, and Lan Wangji tries to not feel thrilled by it. Wei Wuxian is a tactile person by nature, but Lan Wangji suspects he must be feeling very off-balance to be affectionate with Lan Wangji, in this way, in front of both of their siblings. Still, it’s hard for Lan Wangji not to feel, at least a little bit, as if their easy closeness is a small declaration of the still-undefined change in their relationship since they left Lanling.

They are met at the edge of their warded barrier by Wen Qing, who looks worried.

“Hanguang-Jun,” she says, reverting to formality in front of Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli. “Wei Wuxian said before he left that you used one of the emergency talismans. Are you okay?”

Lan Wangji feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I, uh, panicked,” he says a little sheepishly.

“It’s so good to meet you again, Wen-guniang,” Lan Xichen says politely. “I’m afraid Jiang-guniang and I ambushed my brother in Yiling. We were planning to send word of our arrival tomorrow.”

“Hm,” Wen Qing says, and Lan Wangji admires her poise and her perfectly gracious politeness in this moment. “How fortuitous. You must stay for the afternoon meal. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to provide lodging for you for the night—we’re living rather rough here, still—but if you are staying in Yiling, you are both welcome to visit as long as you are here.”

Lan Xichen bows to Wen Qing and opens his mouth to speak, but Jiang Yanli steps forward to interject before he has a chance to respond with well-trained pleasantries of his own.

“Wen-guniang,” Jiang Yanli says, “thank you so much for your hospitality. You and your brother have been such good friends to my brothers and me, and I’m so sorry for your losses during the war. Surely, a-Xian has only done what was right and proper by helping you and your family, and I’m glad to see that he and you are as well as you are. I’ve just—” and, here, her voice breaks a little, “—I’ve been so worried for him, leaving as he did without a word of warning or explanation.”

“I can only imagine, Jiang-guniang,” Wen Qing replies. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s thanks to Wei Wuxian that my own younger brother is alive here.”
Wei Wuxian seems about to add something to that, but Lan Wangji takes one look at Jiang Yanli’s slowly softening demeanor and almost crushes Wei Wuxian’s fingers in his grip. Wen Qing has things well in hand.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmurs in Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Come, let’s find Granny Wen and leave a-Yuan with her for the rest of the afternoon. Wen Qing can show my brother and your sister around, and we can all talk later.”

Lan Wangji bows to his brother and Jiang Yanli and then turns to his friend. “Wen Qing, we will leave our guests in your hands. We must settle a-Yuan and prepare for dinner. Thank you for hosting with such short notice.”

Wen Qing smirks at him, the stiff formality suddenly abandoned. “As always, Lan Wangji, you are a master of understatement. But, go. Take care of a-Yuan. I will take care of Zewu-jun and Jiang-guniang, and we will see you at dinner in a couple of hours.”

Lan Wangji practically drags Wei Wuxian away and tries not to feel ashamed of his cowardice. They will face their siblings later.

Lan Wangji doesn’t let go of Wei Wuxian’s hand until they are back in their own chambers, having handed a-Yuan off to his grandmother on their way. They sit and Lan Wangji pours himself a cup of water and picks up a jar of Fourth Uncle’s apple wine to pour for Wei Wuxian, who quaffs it in a single gulp and nudges the cup back towards Lan Wangji for a refill.

“Lan Zhan, I want to laugh at you for using one of our emergency talismans for this, but I have to admit I’m terrified. I don’t think Shijie has ever been this angry at me before.”

“My brother is also angry,” Lan Wangji admits. “Shufu—"

“I can only imagine what your uncle told Zewu-jun after how he walked in on us that morning.” Wei Wuxian actually grins thinking about it.

“Shameless,” Lan Wangji says, recapturing Wei Wuxian’s hand to press a kiss into his palm before releasing it.

“I’m not the one who was holding you down to the bed and marking up your neck when your uncle came to visit!” Wei Wuxian is openly laughing now, and Lan Wangji is stubbornly not smiling. “So, what embarrassing thing did my sister and your brother come across you doing today?”

“Nothing,” Lan Wangji says firmly. “They just surprised me. I took a-Yuan to the fountain.”

“The one with the fish? Did he make you tell him every fact you know about koi?”

Now Lan Wangji smiles. “Yes, and yes. I was so busy making sure a-Yuan didn’t fall in and drown that I didn’t see our siblings until they were right on top of us.”

“Poor Lan Zhan! And they bullied you into lunch? You have truly suffered today. You could have called for me earlier, you know. I don’t mind rescuing you.”

“Xichen says he’s planning to stay a week. He has some… ideas about how we can fix all of this.” Lan Wangji waves a hand to indicate the two of them as well as their broader situation.

“Oh, does he?”

Wei Wuxian laughs and drains his second cup of wine. Lan Wangji reaches for the empty cup and refills it one more time—the last time, he tells himself, before dinner. He doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to be drunk when they have to entertain their visitors, but he is certain that Wei Wuxian will want another drink after the next thing Lan Wangji is going to say. Lan Wangji even toys with the idea of pouring a cup of wine for himself before he continues.

“He suggested that you and I marry.”

“He what.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even look at his drink. His eyes are wide and fixed on Lan Wangji’s face.

Lan Wangji sips his water. “Brother says that we should marry. He was appalled that I hadn’t thought of it myself. Says it would be the easiest way for us to protect the Wen—by making them family, if we formally adopted a-Yuan. It’s—not a bad idea.”

Wei Wuxian is silent for probably a full ten minutes, during which time he stares off into space (as far as Lan Wangji can tell) and doesn’t look at anything. Lan Wangji isn’t sure if he’s pleased that Wei Wuxian didn’t laugh at him outright or if he’s extremely worried that Wei Wuxian is about to say that he doesn’t care about Lan Wangji in that way, despite how they’ve lived these weeks in Yiling and despite their years long fumbling towards romance. Finally, Wei Wuxian looks—intensely—straight at Lan Wangji, grabs his drink and drains it.

“Fuck it,” Wei Wuxian says. “Let’s do it.”

It’s Lan Wangji’s turn to be nonplussed. To the degree that he had any hopes in this matter, he supposes that what he was hoping for was a romantic declaration of love and fidelity and perhaps some kind of speech about Wei Wuxian’s hope that this will secure a peaceful and happy future for the two of them and for the people they care about. Whatever epiphany Wei Wuxian has had seems to be practical rather than romantic, and Lan Wangji can’t help but feel disappointed even if he has to admit to himself that he didn’t exactly offer a romantic proposal, himself.

“Wei Ying.”

“No, really, Lan Zhan. Your brother is right. Marriage would solve, well, not all our problems, but some of them. We could go back to Gusu like you’ve always wanted—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji has to stop him right there. “The only reason I ever wanted you in Gusu was to keep you safe. I don’t think we would be safe there anymore.”

“What, really?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“Where would we go, then?”

Wei Wuxian seems genuinely confused, and Lan Wangji can feel a small headache coming on.

“We would stay here,” Lan Wangji says. “We have already made this place into a home, and the support of our families would make that tenable longterm. We wouldn’t have to worry about money. With support from other sects, we could bring disciples here for training and to help with the cleansing of the land.”

“Is this really what you want, Lan Zhan?” The expressions crossing Wei Wuxian’s face are incredulous, awed, skeptical and hopeful in turns. “And do you want it with me? With the Yiling Patriarch?”

Lan Wangji scoots his chair closer to Wei Wuxian, takes his hands and looks him right in the eyes. “Wei Ying. Listen to me. I—I love you. I want to be with you however you will have me. I love a-Yuan and Wen Qing and the rest of our family here. I even love this place, and I can’t wait to see what we can build here, together. There’s so much for us to do here, cleansing and building and teaching and learning, and I cannot imagine a better way to spend the rest of my life than doing those things with you.”

Wei Wuxian’s face goes white and then red, and then he’s doing something like smiling, and then he’s crying, and Lan Wangji is on his knees in front of him kissing Wei Wuxian’s hands and then pulling him down and into a tight embrace as Wei Wuxian is wracked by great, tearing sobs that seem like they might rip him apart. And then tears are running down Lan Wangji’s face as well. They cling to each other for long minutes, crying until their tears run out and then they are just silently holding each other close.

Lan Wangi is the first to pull away, sitting back on his heels so that he can look at Wei Wuxian, who still has tears drying on his cheeks. Lan Wangji can’t help but lean forward to kiss the tears away. Wei Wuxian sniffles a little and laughs.

“Lan Zhan. Stop being so good. I don’t deserve it.”

Lan Wangji pauses in his kissing. “You do. Wei Ying is also good.” He keeps kissing, following the tracks of tears down Wei Wuxian’s cheeks to the edge of his jaw and the side of his neck and the place where neck meets shoulder and then the hollow of Wei Wuxian’s throat, where Lan Wangji nuzzles gently and the licks and then bites, forgetting that he is trying to be comforting.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, pushing Lan Wangji away a little. “Are you really sure this is what you want? You love Gusu. It’s your home, and your uncle and brother are there. And your rabbits! And your library and your wall of rules!”

“Wei Ying is here,” Lan Wangji says and goes back to kissing Wei Wuxian’s neck and sliding his hands up to part the front of Wei Wuxian’s dark robes. “That’s what home is, now,” Lan Wangji murmurs against the skin of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “We can bring rabbits here if you want, Wei Ying. If Wei Ying wants a wall of rules, we can have that, too.”

Wei Wuxian’s whole face is red now, and the flush is spreading down his chest, which is warming up beneath Lan Wangji’s lips. “Lan Zhan! It cannot be that simple!”

“Marry me, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers as he pushes Wei Wuxian onto his back on the floor and leans over to recapture Wei Wuxian’s lips.

“Lan Zhan, this is a deeply unfair way of proposing, you shameless man.”

Wei Wuxian fists his hands in the front of Lan Wangji’s robes and pulls him up so that he’s nestled between Wei Wuxian’s legs. Lan Wangji deepens the kiss, licking into Wei Wuxian’s mouth hungrily, which drags a low, desperate moan from Wei Wuxian’s chest. Lan Wangji moves one of his hands behind Wei Wuxian’s head to wrap in his long ponytail. His other hand migrates down to grab Wei Wuxian’s ass. In response, Wei Wuxian spreads his legs wider and wraps his legs around Lan Wangji’s waist, locking his ankles near the small of Lan Wangji’s back.

“Marry me, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again between kisses. “Wei Ying, marry me.”

By the time Wei Wuxian manages to gasp out a strangled “Yes!” Lan Wangji has Wei Wuxian’s outer robes fully open and is working on untying the bows that hold closed his red silk undershirt. Lan Wangji presses wet, open-mouthed kisses down Wei Wuxian’s chest and across his belly—lingering on the scars from the Wen brand and the core transfer—to the sound of more affirmatives and encouragement from Wei Wuxian, who is arching desperately beneath Lan Wangji’s mouth and hands.

“Lan Zhan, yes, yes—please—” Wei Wuxian is absolutely writhing under Lan Wangji’s attention. “Marry me! Yes!”

Lan Wangji stops for just a moment, overwhelmed with feeling as he thinks about what Wei Wuxian is agreeing to, what he himself is committing to, but he decides immediately that he just cannot think too hard about any of that right now. It’s enough that Wei Wuxian has said yes. Everything else important can be figured out later. Lan Wangji surges back up to kiss Wei Wuxian’s mouth, and every serious thought in his head is erased by the urgency of arousal. Lan Wangji feels as if all the blood in his body has rushed straight to his cock, and he can feel the insistent hardness of Wei Wuxian’s pressing against his hip as they kiss. Lan Wangji moves his mouth back to Wei Wuxian’s neck, kissing and biting and sucking a constellation of marks into that smooth column as he starts methodically divesting his betrothed of clothing.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian is chanting as he lets Lan Wangji’s deft fingers finish untying the strings of Wei Wuxian’s clothing and pull pieces of cloth away to uncover as much skin as possible. Wei Wuxian laughs as Lan Wangji works at the laces that hold the front of Wei Wuxian’s trousers together, Wei Wuxian’s own hands moving up Lan Wangji’s shoulders and coming up to tangle in Lan Wangji’s hair. “Lan Zhan, we’re supposed to be getting ready for dinner!”
Lan Zhan pauses and looks up at Wei Wuxian. “Would you like me to stop?”

“That’s not what I said—” Wei Wuxian begins and then apparently loses whatever he was going to say next as Lan Wangji gets the pants untied and pulls them off, leaving Wei Wuxian completely bare beneath him.

“Good,” Lan Wangji says, taking Wei Wuxian in hand, “because I’m hungry now.” And Lan Wangji leans down, keeping his eyes on Wei Wuxian’s face, and takes Wei Wuxian into his mouth, all the way down in one smooth movement.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, Lan-er-gege,” Wei Wuxian gasps as Lan Wangji gets to work worshiping Wei Wuxian with his lips and tongue. “I can’t believe you. What book taught you to do this?”

Lan Wangji just hums deep in his throat, a noise of pleasured contentment, and keeps diligently sucking Wei Wuxian’s cock.

It doesn’t take long before Wei Wuxian is crying out and coming in a hot spurt down Lan Wangji’s throat. With Wei Wuxian repeating every name he’s ever called him like a mantra and pulling Lan Wangji’s hair, Lan Wangji finds himself coming as he swallows, still fully clothed and untouched. He continues to suck at Wei Wuxian through the first of the aftershocks until Wei Wuxian shivers and whimpers from overstimulation and Lan Wangji finally pulls off to kiss a trail back up to Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers between deep breaths. “I love you. So much. But I cannot believe that I have to go sit down for dinner with your brother and my sister an hour after you’ve had my cock in your mouth.”

Lan Wangji stifles an actual laugh against Wei Wuxian’s neck, and Wei Wuxian pushes him off, propping himself up on an elbow to give Lan Wangji an extremely comically betrayed look. Lan Wangji isn’t able to stifle his laughter after that. He only stops when he realizes that Wei Wuxian is staring at him in complete silence, which prompts him to quit laughing and return Wei Wuxian’s steady gaze with a serious look of his own.

“What, Wei Ying?”

“Lan Zhan, I have known you for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you really laugh before.” Wei Wuxian looks intensely thoughtful. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I want—I need—to remember this. What if it’s years longer before I see you laugh like that again?”

“I can assure you that it will not be.”

Lan Wangji leans forward to press a lingering kiss to Wei Wuxian’s lips, and Wei Wuxian shivers again and opens his mouth under Lan Wangji’s so that it’s all Lan Wangji can do to pull away.

“Wei Ying, we must get ready for dinner,” he says in response to Wei Wuxian’s pout. “I am still hungry, and we cannot entertain guests like this.”

This time, it’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to laugh.

Chapter Text

They don’t have time to bathe properly before dinner, but they clean up as best they can and make sure to put on their most presentable robes. It’s the first time Lan Wangji has worn white in weeks, and he’s surprised to find that it feels weird. Even the most casual of his Gusu Lan robes have always been made with fine cloth and covered in subtle stitched details that speak to the quality of their construction and the wealth of his family, but it makes him feel like he’s wearing a costume now after so many weeks of wearing greys and browns in the more sturdy and practical fashions that are appropriate to his life at the Burial Mounds.

Wei Wuxian dresses in his best black and red robes, and Lan Wangji only barely successfully suppresses an urge to rip them off Wei Wuxian’s body before they’re even fully dressed. Instead, he settles for a series of chaste kisses as he combs and styles Wei Wuxian’s hair before Wei Wuxian returns the favor. Lan Wangji still forgoes the elaborate silver hair pieces that he wore in his previous life, opting instead for a simpler style held together by a blue tooled leather hairpiece that Wei Wuxian made for him as a gift early in their tenure at the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji likes the understated elegance of the leather, with its silver clouds embossed on pale blue, and it’s certainly lighter and easier to use than any of his silver hairpieces ever were.

The most significant difference from their ordinary appearance, however, is that Lan Wangji doesn’t wear his forehead ribbon. Instead, he wraps it around Wei Wuxian’s left forearm and ties it in a complex series of knots that end with a bow that will be very visible and hopefully understood as it’s meant: as a public declaration of their betrothal. Certainly, if Lan Xichen sees it—which he assuredly will—he will understand it in that fashion, and Lan Wangji suspects that Jiang Yanli and the Wen are wise to his intentions towards Wei Wuxian by now and will not be surprised.

They enter the dining area—really just an arrangement of tables and chairs in the grand entranceway of Demon-Subdue Palace, lit by talisman lanterns—hand in hand, heads held high in a conscious attempt to project an aura of dignity and importance after both being so unsettled by the unexpected arrival of their siblings. Wen Qing and Wen Ning have also dressed up, surely with similar intentions, and someone has set the tables so that the largest of them is able to include the Wen siblings, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, as well as Granny Wen and a-Yuan, all of whom are already seated and waiting for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to arrive so the meal can start.

Conscious of trying to appear as consequential as any sect leaders, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian by the arm and guides him to their seats. Perhaps they don’t look like sect leaders, but Lan Wangji notices the appraising looks their siblings cast their way and hopes that they at least have managed to come off at least as successful rogue cultivators in control of their circumstances and not as naïve boys who have run away from home without a plan for how to survive and accomplish their goals.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Lan Xichen says dryly almost as soon as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian sit down.

Lan Wangji can feel his ears heating up a little, but he straightens up in his seat a little and nods at his brother. “Indeed. Wei Ying has accepted my offer of marriage.”

Wei Wuxian cannot stop smiling as his sister lets out a small gasp. Wen Ning looks slightly confused while Wen Qing rolls her eyes. Granny Wen’s eyes sparkle, while a-Yuan is playing with his rabbit toy and oblivious to what any of the adults around him are doing. Lan Wangji’s insides feel as if they are twisted in knots. He has never been so happy or so freaked out in his life.

“Congratulations, young masters,” Granny Wen says.

“A-Xian, does this mean you will return to Lotus Pier? Or will you go to Cloud Recesses?” Yanli asks.

“Uh—” Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji for help.

“We will be staying here,” Lan Wangji says smoothly. “We’ve only just begun the process of cleansing this place, but we have high hopes for the land. And, of course, we would appreciate any assistance our families would choose to give us while we establish ourselves here.”

Jiang Yanli looks crestfallen.

“You should have an actual wedding, at least,” Lan Xichen says. “You would be welcome to marry at Cloud Recesses, regardless of Shufu’s feelings on the matter. I know that I failed to do everything I could to save the Wen and prevent circumstances from becoming what they are, but I would like to do this for you. A large, formal wedding would go a long way towards confirming the legitimacy of your relationship and the public display of my support for you would show the other sects that you are not unprotected.”

“You would stand against Jin Guangshan in this?” Wei Wuxian asks. “You would stand against Yao and Ouyang and everyone?”

Lan Xichen nods. “I would now. Nie Mingjue would stand with me as well.”

“We will marry here,” Lan Wangji says flatly. He doesn’t trust his brother in this, he realizes. “In Yiling, anyway.”

“Still,” Lan Xichen insists. “You must have a proper ceremony and invite the other sect leaders. We will consult an astrologer for an auspicious date. You’d like it to be as soon as possible, I imagine?”

Lan Wangji goes completely silent and still, and he knows that his brother and Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing are all staring at him, but somehow this is the thing that makes the idea of marriage feel real. Really real. Like, an imminent thing that is about to happen.
It’s Wei Wuxian who answers Xichen. “Yes, of course, as soon as possible. I don’t want to upstage my shijie, but I’m not sure Lan Zhan and I could stand to have a long engagement.” This last bit with wide, innocent eyes and a brightly disingenuous smile.

Jiang Yanli frowns at her brother. “Don’t be crude, a-Xian. You may not like it, but in the eyes of the great sects it does matter that you two have been living here together and sharing a bed for some months already. The rumors have been… unkind.”

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian says, breaking out in a delighted grin, “did you hear the one about how I deflowered eight maidens of the Gao sect? Eight! Maidens!”
Lan Wangji rolls his eyes and sighs. Lan Xichen and Wen Qing laugh. But Jiang Yanli does not. Her mouth is a thin line, and her eyes are slightly narrowed at her brother’s antics. It only takes Wei Wuxian a couple minutes to notice, and he has the grace to look chastised.

“Come on, Shijie,” Wei Wuxian whines. “It’s funny.”

“We can laugh about it ten years from now, a-Xian, but right now, this is a mess. As you pointed out, I am trying to get married—” Wei Wuxian interrupts with a sullen groan, but Jiang Yanli ignores him and continues. “A-Cheng needs you, needs both of us, and you’re no help to him hiding out here completely cut off from the world.”

Wei Wuxian’s face goes hard while his sister is speaking, and Lan Wangji reaches out for his hand, unsure if he wants comfort or encouragement. For his own part, Lan Wangji wants both, and he feels grounded by Wei Wuxian’s slender fingers entwined with his.

“Jiang Cheng has been here, Shijie. Didn’t he tell you? He wanted me to turn all these people over to be murdered. He called them ‘useless.’ He was ready to kill Wen Ning while he was sleeping. All to keep face with the other sect leaders. Jiang Cheng can be as angry as he wants with me. How can I help him when we have such a fundamental difference in values?”

Jiang Yanli’s face has fallen, and she looks sad and frustrated now. Lan Wangji knows that she has spent most of her life moderating the relationship between her fractious brothers, and a part of him feels bad for her, but he also knows that Wei Wuxian was right to take the part of these Wen survivors against the sect leaders who were prepared to wipe them all out just because they shared the name Wen. All of them, himself and Wei Wuxian included, have been complicit in the genocide of the Wen at times—albeit to varying degrees—and there’s no way forward except for all of them to reckon with that fact and actively choose to do something different, something better. When Jiang Wanyin had visited, he hadn’t been willing to do that, choosing instead to value his standing with the other sect leaders over the lives of the Wen remnants. Now, Lan Wangji doubts whether his brother and Wei Wuxian’s sister will be truly willing either.

“A-Xian—” Jiang Yanli begins with a frown.

Surprisingly, it’s Wen Qionglin who interrupts to mediate the situation, his voice quiet and steady and soothing, even over the din of people around them.

“You must know, Jiang-guniang, how m-much Wei-gongzi means to us here. He’s given up so much to keep us all safe, and my-my sister and I care so deeply about his happiness.”

“Indeed,” Wen Qing agrees. “You may not know, Jiang Yanli, but Jiang Wanyin and I might have considered courtship once upon a time. He gave me the loveliest comb. And, still, he was ready to sacrifice me and my family for the illusion of peace. You must forgive us for being a little defensive of our situation. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have been so instrumental in achieving what fragile security we have that we are understandably protective of them in return.”

“We understand Jiang-zongzhu’s concerns as a young sect leader, but surely he will see reason in these matters if you only explain it to him,” Granny Wen adds, eyes narrowed in a canny glare at Jiang Yanlin and Lan Xichen that belies her sweet appearance. “Most of us here are not cultivators, as you can readily see, and those who are have only ever worked as healers. Useless as we may be, we flatter ourselves that we aren’t entirely disposable.”

Jiang Yanli has the grace to look slightly sick after these speeches, and it’s left to Lan Xichen to respond.

“Your concerns are entirely reasonable,” Xichen begins. “But please believe me that my brother is unimaginably precious to me. If he claims you as family, then you are my family as well, and the Lan clan will do everything in its power to protect you all. These have been awful times for all of us, and everyone has dealt with terrible losses in the last couple of years. Peace and unity may not come easily or quickly, but I am prepared to do whatever I can to help.”

Finally, Lan Wangji feels the need to interject. “I know you mean well, brother, but it will probably take some time to earn the sort of trust you are asking for. Wei Ying and I have made our home here and tied our fates to the Wen quite irrevocably, marriage or not. I want to marry him because I am in love with him and choose to spend the rest of my life with him, not for politics or convenience. If you wish us well, prove it. If the great sects mean us no harm, they must also prove it.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, able to be magnanimous following Lan Wangji’s display of resolve. “Let’s give them the opportunity at least. Shijie and Zewu-jun have only just arrived in Yiling today, after all. Let them visit this week and see what we are accomplishing and get to know our family here.” He turns to look at his sister. “Shijie, I expect you to help me with wedding plans. It will be nothing as grand as your upcoming nuptials, but Lan Zhan and I would like to keep some traditions at least.”

Fourth Uncle chooses this moment to interject with a change of subject, and everyone graciously allows it in the interest of being able to pass the rest of the meal pleasantly. Eventually, dinner is over, and Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen must say their goodbyes for the evening; Wen Qing was serious about being unable to host them at the Burial Mounds, and Lan Wangji has never been more grateful for her willingness to stand by her words. He and Wei Wuxian leave a-Yuan with Wen-Qing to be put to bed while they escort their siblings back down the dark path from the Burial Mounds to Yiling. It’s a quiet walk, and Wei Wuxian lets Lan Wangji hold his hand the entire way.

They part ways with Yanli and Xichen at the foot of the mountain with the promise that they will meet them in town for lunch the next day, where they will discuss more of the details of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s marriage, what that will look like and what it will mean for the future of the Wen. Lan Wangji can tell that Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen still think that there is some way to convince them to, effectively, join either the Lan sect or the Jiang sect in some fashion, but Lan Wangji knows that he and Wei Wuxian have no interest in being subsidiary to their sects of origin. Having left the Lan sect’s three thousand-odd rules behind, Lan Wangji has no desire to live in quite such a restrained manner any longer, and Wei Wuxian could never, truly, be his brother’s subordinate, even if his golden core was fully intact, which it’s not.

As they watch Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli disappear into the distance of the darkening evening, Lan Wangji reaches out to grab Wei Wuxian’s hand and pulls him in for a sweet but extremely thorough kiss before they fully turn to go back home. Wei Wuxian laughs a little and nuzzles his face into Lan Wangji’s neck for a moment before they separate and start walking, still hand in hand. Neither of them says anything for a long while.

After months of living on the mountain, even the lengthening shadows of the gloomy forest they must pass through no longer feel ominous or threatening. Their earliest purifying efforts have been focused on clearing this very path as well as securing the immediate area in which the Wen are living and working, and the progress they’ve made is not inconsiderable. Still, Lan Wangji thinks that part of his ease with these surroundings is borne purely out of familiarity; the longer he has spent here, the more it feels like home, regardless of the land’s odder qualities. There’s a part of him that has grown to love the bleak landscape on the Yiling side of the forest, before the land turns to fertile farmland. There’s a part of him that finds a strange beauty in the melancholy wood through which their path home winds, and by the time the Demon-Subdue Palace is in sight, decked out in red lanterns to guide their way, Lan Wangji has to admit to himself that there is nowhere he would rather be, even if he does still have to occasionally wake up in the middle of the night to dispel a resentful spirit.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stop in the courtyard of the Demon-Subdue Palace. Lan Wangji feels slightly weighed down by the white robes he’s been wearing since the afternoon, and he can tell that Wei Wuxian is feeling similarly exhausted by the day’s events. Nevertheless, Lan Wangji can’t help but feel pride as he looks out over the settlement. The house that the Wen have been working on during the weeks that Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing spent nursing Wen Qionglin is nearly finished, and they can see the yellow glow of candlelight in some of the windows where various people have not gone to bed yet. The gardens are green and growing, and with the diligent cleansings that have been performed on the soil, Lan Wangji is very hopeful that they will be self-sufficient in a season or two.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, squeezing his betrothed’s hand.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian replies without looking away from the scene before them.

“Let me take you to bed.”

“Lan Zhan. Yes, yes, please.”

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian rise late the next morning and only when Wen Qing allows a-Yuan to finally disturb their rest after he’s eaten his own breakfast. Lan Wangji almost never sleeps this late, even now, though he has stopped keeping strict Lan hours in favor of sleeping when he’s tired and rising with the sun, which makes more sense here than a strict curfew and schedule. Lan Wangji was not expecting the degree of emotional hangover he would have after the events of the previous day, however. Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli have worn him out, and he would much prefer to spend the day inside with (or just inside) Wei Wuxian than get up and face them again for lunch in town.

Still.

“A-die! Xian-gege!” A-Yuan is saying excitedly as Lan Wangji groans and rouses to full wakefulness. “Wake up! Breakfast!”

Wei Wuxian is even less amenable to rising than he is, Lan Wangji can tell by the stubborn set of the other man’s face as he burrows deeper into the scant covers of their hard bed. Somehow, Lan Wangji manages to open his eyes and sit up before a-Yuan can do something regrettable like tearing off the covers or leaping into bed with them.

“We’re up, a-Yuan. We’re up,” Lan Wangji stretches the truth, yawning openly in a fashion he never would have dared just a few weeks earlier. “Look. I am sitting up. Why don’t you go help Qing-jie with chores while we get dressed?”

He can see Wen Qing in the doorway of their chamber wearing an expression that can only be called a smirk.

“But, a-die, I want you,” a-Yuan whines pitifully. He sounds like Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian stirs and mumbles something that might be “go away” and might just be a reaction to a dream. He wraps his arms tightly around Lan Wangji’s waist and snuggles into Lan Wangji’s lap. Lan Wangji’s cock gives an involuntary twitch and he winces.

“It’s nearly mid-morning, Lan Wangji,” Wen Qing says mercilessly. “You’ve already missed breakfast, but I know you don’t want to miss your lunch with Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli.”

At this, Wei Wuxian groans and stirs again, making to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he, too, sits up blearily.

“Qing-jie!” Wei Wuxian complains. “Can’t you see that Lan Zhan is still tired? We’ll get up in time for lunch, I promise.”

Wen Qing snorts. “Okay, okay. I trust that you are getting up. A-Yuan, come. We will see what we can help Granny with this morning.”

When they’re gone, Wei Wuxian climbs into Lan Wangji’s lap and kisses him fiercely. “How long before we actually have to leave, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji rests his hands on the other man’s thighs as Wei Wuxian grinds down on him experimentally. “Not long enough for this, Wei Ying. We must rise and dress and walk to town.”
Wei Wuxian pouts and leans in to keep kissing Lan Wangji, who must admit that he makes a compelling case for staying in bed. Lan Wangji groans into Wei Wuxian’s mouth and tightens his grip on his hips. They are both already hard, and it’s easy enough for Lan Wangji to free both their cocks from their pants and take them in hand. The slick of precome eases the friction as they move together, still kissing each other wetly as they fuck into Lan Wangji’s fist. They haven’t been doing this long, but they’re very quickly getting good at it, in Lan Wangji’s opinion; it’s doesn’t take long before they’re gasping out their release together, Wei Wuxian noisily, Lan Wangji muffling his own noises by biting Wei Wuxian’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“We must bathe,” Lan Wangji says when they have finished. Wei Wuxian lets out a whine as Lan Wangji gently shoves him off and stands up. “Quickly now, so we can meet our siblings for lunch.”

An hour and a half later, they’ve bathed and dressed in their second best robes: black again for Wei Wuxian, with a deep purple cloud motif around the bottom hem, and dark blue-grey with a sprinkling of red lotus flowers on the sleeves for Lan Wangji. They’ve also kissed a-Yuan goodbye, calmed the tantrum a-Yuan had when they started to walk down the path to Yiling without him, kissed a-Yuan goodbye a second time, waited for Granny to take a-Yuan somewhere out of sight and are hurrying down the path before anything else can happen to delay them. They spend most of the way to Yiling walking hand in hand, and Lan Wangji only grabs Wei Wuxian to press him against a tree and kiss him breathless once on the way so they even manage to arrive at the tea house relatively unmussed, though Wei Wuxian’s lips are still slightly kiss-swollen and Lan Wanji is almost smiling every time he looks at his betrothed.

Xichen and Yanli are waiting outside the teahouse when they arrive.

“Xianxian!” Yanli calls when she sees them approaching. “You’re late.”

“We thought you might stand us up, Wangji” Lan Xichen teases. “Do you want to eat? Or can we walk? I’ve never spent time in Yiling, and I wouldn’t mind exploring the place.”

Lan Wangji sighs a little. He knows his brother means well, but still. “We spend most of our time on the mountain, Xiongzhang. There’s been so much work to do.”

Lan Xichen falls silent, but Jiang Yanli looks at Lan Wangji sharply. She appears thoughtful, and the canny look on her face makes Lan Wanji think that he has underestimated Wei Wuxian’s shijie all these years.

“I can’t help but feel, Hanguang-jun, that we abandoned siblings are woefully out of touch with what you have been going through here,” Yanli says. “A-Xian left Lanling without a word, and a-Cheng’s account of things was… let’s say confused. And Zewu-jun tells me that you left with even less warning and have been even less communicative about it.”

“Shijie!” Wei Wuxian says, a note of outraged whining in his voice. “It’s not Lan Zhan’s fault—”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to lie for him. “My choices were my own. I am sorry to have distressed my family—”

“Lan Zhan! You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I practically kidnapped you,” Wei Wuxian interjects.

Lan Wangji knows that this—or some version of it—is what his uncle believes, but he cannot let that stand. “Wei Ying.” Just the slightest stress on the second syllable of the name, but it’s enough for Wei Wuxian to go quiet for a moment. “Wei Ying. I was the one who—”

“Hahaha, Lan Zhan. Maybe we should just apologize for our shared failure as letter-writers. Although, really, Shijie, I just didn’t want to drag you or Jiang Cheng into all this.”

“A-Xian, you are family. We’re already involved.”

Jiang Yanli’s frustration with her brother is overriding her usually gentle demeanor, and Lan Wangji has to admit that he finds it unsettling. The core of steel in Jiang Yanli that led her to dress down Jin Zixun (rather spectacularly) in defense of Wei Wuxian at Phoenix Mountain is apparent here as well.

For his part, Wei Wuxian is pouting. (Also spectacularly, and Lan Wangji makes a mental note—with an asterisk—to be certain never to let Wei Wuxian know how this affects him.)

“Ugh, fine, Shijie,” Wei Wuxian finally concedes after several minutes of Jiang Yanli looking patiently annoyed with him and Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen standing in awkward silence.

Jiang Yanli smiles radiantly. “Thank you, a-Xian. Now, let’s sit down together and figure out how to get you boys married and the Wen safe without causing a war between the sects.”

Lan Wangji had always known—or thought he did—that Jiang Wanyin was the most exhausting of the Jiang siblings, but after three hours of listening to Jiang Yanli and his own brother (a traitor) laying out elaborate plans and schemes for his wedding to Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji has to admit that he had no idea. Wei Wuxian is listening to Yanli’s every word with a gaze of blatant hero worship on his face; Xichen is attentive and engaged and full of his own suggestions and ideas for how to accomplish the event; but Lan Wangji would much rather deal with Jiang Wanyin’s open hostility and misunderstanding than suffer all this hopeful good will.

“Jiang-guniang. Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji begins, interrupting an in-depth discussion of the guest list and seating arrangements. “Must we really do… all of this? Surely, with the two of you already here to represent our families we could just do a small ceremony now. Then we could announce it immediately.”

“Wangji.” Lan Xichen is pinching the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. “You must know it’s not that simple.”

“But—”

“Lan Zhan, it’s just one—well, not one day—but just a few days,” Wei Wuxian says, clearly trying to be a voice of reason.

Lan Wangji wonders at what point during the last few months their roles have gotten reversed like this. He huffs out the tiniest of tiny sighs, and Wei Wuxian reaches for one of his hands to hold it gently and kiss it reassuringly. The worst part of all this is that Lan Wangji wants to marry Wei Wuxian publicly, to show the whole world how much he loves this man and make absolutely certain that everyone knows that he, Lan Wanji, is dedicating the rest of his life to loving Wei Wuxian. He just… hates the theater of what Yanli and Xichen are planning. And he hates that it is necessary, resents the circumstances that have made it so that a smaller celebration with just the people who love and care about them isn’t an option, even if that isn’t really what he wanted to begin with.

“We should have the wedding at the Burial Mounds,” Lan Wangji says. “Not in Yiling.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I don’t think we’re quite up to receiving visitors at home yet. We couldn’t put up Shijie and Zewu-Jun for the week. How could we entertain people from every sect?” Wei Wuxian asks sensibly. “And, you know, there are still quite a lot of resentful spirits hanging around the place, even if we have been working on that. Just how long an engagement would you like to have?”

“They can stay in Yiling and travel up the mountain for the actual event.”

Lan Xichen looks as if he agrees with Wei Wuxian and is ready to argue the point, but Jiang Yanli nods in agreement with Lan Wangji. He hadn’t expected her to be his ally in this, but it turns out that she is full of opinions on it.

“I think holding the wedding at the Burial Mounds is a lovely idea,” she says. “We could wish that the place was called something less foreboding, but we’ve let the Nie clan get away with ‘Unclean Realm’ for centuries. It probably wouldn’t even mean a long engagement. Surely the Lan and Jiang sects could loan some additional cultivators to help with cleansing the crucial areas, and the guests would stay in town as Hanguang-jun suggested.”

“That is doable,” Lan Xichen says. “Whatever it takes to keep my little brother from fully eloping, I suppose.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian do not elope, although it is a close thing, especially when Jiang Wanyin shows up a month after their betrothal to demand to be included, which leads to a tearful reconciliation of sorts between Wei Wuxian and his brother, which in turn leads to an argument between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, which leads to some fantastic make-up sex and an agreement to disagree on the entire issue of Jiang Wanyin for now..

The wedding date is in late spring, and it is an extremely long winter, with both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian spending time away from the Burial Mounds with their respective families in Gusu and Yunmeng, though there is always one of them in residence in Yiling. This is ostensibly for wedding planning purposes, but Lan Wangji knows that it’s also calculated to dispel some of the rumors about their situation at the Burial Mounds and grant their betrothal some semblance of propriety. Everyone knows that they’ve shared a bed for months, but the time apart gives their families some plausible deniability about it. By the actual day of the wedding, Lan Wangji is exhausted and rather wishes they had just bullied their siblings into witnessing a ceremony months ago.

It’s a lovely day, at least. The loaned cultivators from Gusu and Yunmeng have been an invaluable asset in the endeavor to cleanse the Burial Mounds of centuries of resentful energy, and the fruits of their efforts are apparent in the prevalence of green in the landscape, the blooming cherry trees in the courtyard of Demon-Subdue Palace and sounds of birdsong on the cool breeze on top of the mountain.

Granny Wen warned Lan Wangji in the days leading up to the wedding that he would not remember any of the details of the day because he would be too busy and excited to commit anything to memory, but he makes a concerted effort to pay attention to everything regardless. It turns out, in the end, that Granny was right, but Lan Wangji remembers the important things:

During the ceremony, Lan Qiren doesn’t frown when Wei Wuxian pours tea for him, with perfect form and without spilling a drop. In fact, the look that passes, fleetingly, over Lan Wangji’s uncle’s dour face is—he would swear to it—something like approval. Lan Wangji supposes that all of Wei Wuxian’s weeks of practice have paid off.

Jiang Wanyin gifts them a bag of lotus seeds, positively straining at its seams, and Wei Wuxian weeps at the gesture and hugs his brother, who hugs him back as Wei Wuxian promises to plant some of the seeds as soon as possible. Lan Wangj is certain that he saw tears in Jiang Wanyin’s eyes as well. He notices that Wen Qing sees Jiang Wanyin’s tears as well, and he is surprised by the softness of her expression as she watches the Jiang sect leader.

Lan Xichen weeps openly. Lan Wangji is certain that he sees Nie Mingjue hold Xichen’s hand at one point.

Jiang Yanli is gloriously, glowingly six months pregnant, and she also weeps. Jin Zixuan spends the whole day hovering around her and making sure that her every whim is satisfied.

A-Yuan fidgets throughout the ceremony—at four, he just doesn’t quite have the patience for it. The clear highlight of a-Yuan’s day is getting to play with little Lan Jingyi, who is three and a half and has spent the last couple of years since being orphaned in the war absolutely terrorizing every caretaker found for him in the Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji knows it’s their wedding day, but he resolves to remind Wei Wuxian later that a-Yuan would like siblings.

Wei Wuxian is stunning in red silk and gold thread, surpassing even Lan Wangji’s most vivid fantasies. The golden dragons and clouds embroidered on Wei Wuxian’s robes are a perfect complement to Lan Wangji’s phoenix and lotus motifs. Lan Wangji cannot wait to tear those robes off Wei Wuxian’s body later, but Wei Wuxian is perfectly demure, modest and chaste in his behavior throughout the day. Only a sharp, amused glint in Wei Wuxian’s eyes betrays the fact that he knows exactly what he’s doing to Lan Wangji. He’s as beautiful and infuriating as ever, and Lan Wangji cannot wait to see what their future holds.