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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian had always been the smarter of the two brothers, even before Jiang Yanli sat him down one sunny day to watch from the porch as Jiang Cheng tried and failed to lift his gangly body off the ground, bellowing and cursing the dragon king bitterly.

“A-Cheng, don’t be silly,” Jiang Yanli chided. “We are pixiu, not birds! The gift of flight comes only from the dragon king. You must respect that bond.” she turned back toward Wei Wuxian and smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners with bemusement. In a softer voice, she told him, “When your love matches our longwang’s, you can fly high enough to escape any danger.”

That’s how he thought of her, still. Enough love to rival longwang.

Wei Wuxian was smarter than Jiang Cheng, but not because he’d never cursed at the dragon king. That was a given, being a young pixiu learning to fly. He did, however, treat the gift of flight as the blessing it felt like when he soared through the air. It had been his mother’s greatest wish.

He’d only been a pixiu for a few decades, truth be told. Before their captivity with the Wens and before their family in Yunmeng and before he was a specter, alone, in Yiling, he lived with his parents and he was human. He was safe, and his mother sang him to sleep with tales of flight, of the infinite freedom of the sky. And when they weren’t safe anymore, she held him close to her heart and said “A-Ying, you were born to fly free.”

When they were gone, he taught himself to transform, and then to fly, in Yiling. He inhabited the surrounding forests and the mountain no one dared to approach, and he was lonely. Before long, he started to spend more time in the city, chasing the sounds of laughter and humanity. He lived off of birds and rats and watermelon rinds and tried not to bother the locals too much, but how could he have known that even then, the Wens were searching for him?

Wei Wuxian had known from the beginning—from the day he lost his parents—that danger lurked on the ground. Earth-dwellers were unpredictable and often cruel, so Wei Wuxian learned early on to appreciate the safety of the skies. The people chasing him were catching on, though. They flew on swords and taunted him, and near the end of his time in Yiling he began to grow too tired, too slow, to outrun them for much longer. And they knew it.

But Jiang Fengmian found him first, and for a while he was safe again. For a while, he and Jiang Cheng and Shijie were inseparable, and the three of them grew into each other’s hearts like vines, like coming home. Their bond was so strong and so desperate that when the Wens came, they almost escaped together. You were born to fly free, his mother had said, but Wei Wuxian had jeopardized not only his own freedom, but that of the family that had taken him in. And then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he’d gotten his brother captured along with him.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know how long it had been since the fall of Lotus Pier. He didn’t know whether it was being rebuilt or left to ashes.

Jiang Cheng lived with empty eyes these days. He didn’t care so much, anymore, about what they did to him. He was tired. Wei Wuxian felt it tugging at him too, dead weight settling in his bones. Soon he would be unable to lift his head above the water. But Jiang Cheng was here, and he had let himself be taken to save Wei Wuxian by convincing them that they were better left alive, and then his life debt was twofold.

However much time had passed in the circus of a camp, the Wens were not going to let them live much longer. All the leaping and dancing and praying for wealth had grown tiresome even for them. Where are my riches, Wen Chao would howl, never quite realizing that none would come. Pixiu were not meant to be imprisoned, after all.

Wei Wuxian knew that Wen Chao was bored, even angry, at their inability to perform, and Wei Wuxian was tired, too. He and his brother could no longer fly after years of having their magic suppressed, could barely take their divine forms for minutes at a time after being forced into human ones for so long—for convenience, a Wen had sneered at the beginning.

The talismans suppressing their qi were powerful and steadfast, but Wei Wuxian was clever and had nothing but time. He fiddled and tested in the quiet moments, and when he finally found a solution he almost wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure what it would cost, but it didn’t matter in the end.

Now, after what felt like years of performing for the Wen’s entertainment, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng finally had a chance that they could not miss. It had to be now. A slip in Wen Zhuliu’s attention; a negligent guard, a reversed suppression talisman, and Wei Wuxian had broken out of his restraints, bolstered by the spiritual energy drawn into him instead of out. They were both gone before the rest of the camp was awake, before anyone could stop them.

The talismans didn’t last long, though. Wei Wuxian felt his strength stutter and stop all too soon. The two of them were, after all, powered by something else in him, and he wondered if it was already completely lost and spent. He’d hoped it would last longer. It would have to be enough. They landed alongside a river, and It was days of walking without pause before they were able to transform again. Jiang Cheng took one running leap, two, and his wings caught the air under him and lifted him skyward. Wei Wuxian had forgotten how brightly his eyes shone in the sun. He joined his brother and they mocked a brawl, reveling in their newfound freedom. They continued their journey above the clouds, and as the sun dipped below the horizon again, it became apparent they’d soon need a plan to get to safety. Yunmeng was—

They knew they couldn’t go back to Yunmeng, but the other great clans surely wouldn’t turn away two divine beasts in search of shelter, even from the Wens. They just needed to find a clan to take them in, just until they were well enough to find their sister. This is where the brothers split up, and this is where Wei Wuxian later thinks he may have made a mistake.

See, Wei Wuxian swears he had always been smarter than Jiang Cheng, so his heart sinks more in shock than in fear when his wings fail him again after an untold amount of hours in flight, and he begins to plummet from the sky. He had been so wrapped up in the chase, the escape, the air whipping past his face—when did the fog in his brain get so strong as to blind him? How had he not noticed his rapidly depleting energy until he was already half-human again? It didn’t matter; it happened too fast. He had been so foolish to believe he could really get away with those talismans unscathed. He had no idea where he was, only knew that Jiang Cheng was several cun ahead of him in the general direction of away from the Wens. He heard Jiang Cheng’s voice in his head—who’s the smarter one now—and he hoped his brother was too far away to notice him slipping away, to keep going, but the world went dark before he ever hit the ground.

–

Lan Wangji’s head whips up from its reading position as his study shakes with the force of a distant but powerful impact. The Cloud Recesses did not often receive guests given its position in the frigid mountains, nor does it have any reason to expect them now. He keeps a meticulous log of every single planned visit—no matter how many signs he puts up, few individuals respect his carefully crafted, foliage-lined pathways and the fragile ecosystems they protect. This visitor certainly will not, either, judging by the sheer volume of the echoing, far-off crash.

He stands with a sigh, knowing his disciples shouldn’t be left alone to investigate the crash. Anything resentful would have set off their wards, but even cultivators sometimes came to Gusu with less-than-noble intentions. With any luck, Lan Sizhui will already be at the scene to hold back the curious juniors.

Lan Xichen nods at him as they enter the hallway at the same time, smiling slightly. “We might as well check together, right? What a crash!” He remarks, too chipper for the situation. But Xichen was always the more extroverted of the two, he supposes. He leads the clan with a charming smile and endless patience, and he would be remiss if he were to miss such an outlandish event for their juniors. Lan Wangji nods back at his brother, and they summon their swords and are off.

The source of the sound ends up being farther away than he expects. They alight in a grove near the base of the mountain, blessedly far away from his gardens—whatever it was, it fell from a great height and left a crater the size of a fishing boat, but what lay in the center of the debris was no more than a man. He is thin, bruised and battered but somehow untouchable, with high cheekbones and a straight nose, dark lashes and smile lines. Lan Wangji is so entranced that he only notices Sizhui’s second repetition of, “Stay back! Wait for Hanguang-Jun.”

The juniors stand in a circle around the crater, hands on their swords but stances relaxed as they eye the unconscious figure in the center with apprehension. He radiates energy like a furnace, but it’s a different kind than what they’re used to—the tone and the color are different, and he can feel the overpowering presence of yin. Still, the stranger looks fragile.

Xichen is looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, so Lan Wangji shakes his head and steps forward.

This time, he is aware enough to notice another presence approaching rapidly, and he has just enough time to look up and take several steps back as a massive pixiu—in its full glory, this time, as he’s about to discover—lands between him and the man, roaring in fury. The creature has the head of a dragon and menacing teeth, a lion’s body and claws. Its feathered wings stand poised like a threat. The ring of disciples expands and they draw their swords, but Lan Wangji holds out a hand. He understands the size of the crater now, though not the reason why the beast had reverted to its human form. Lan Wangji wonders what could have depleted the energy of such a powerful entity, but shakes his head. Regardless of how the two pixiu had ended up in the Cloud Recesses, the role and charge of the Gusu Lan sect is in service to the heavens. Defensive or not, a pixiu is a divine beast descended from the Dragon King himself. As he opens his mouth to speak, though, the unconscious man in the center of the crater stirs. The pixiu freezes, turning its great head.

The world could have been screaming and he’s not sure he would have heard it the moment the man met his gaze. He takes half a step forward. For a second that hangs in time, he is lost in the onyx and exhaustion in the stranger’s eyes, and then he sees them widen in panic. The man pulls himself to his knees and grasps at the beast in front of him. “Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng, it’s okay! Calm down, I promise I’m okay!” he continues speaking as he stumbles to his feet and looks around, “So much better than okay, actually. We’ve landed in the Cloud Recesses!” he exclaims.

The pixiu looks at the circle of cultivators with their swords drawn and then back at the man, stamping a paw in irritated confusion. Astonishingly enough, the man laughs. A loud, surprised laugh like it was punched out of him, settling into a small smile that makes Lan Wangji wonder what he must look like when he really smiles. The stranger raises his arms, hands folded respectfully, and lowers his head in a bow before finally introducing himself. “My humble apologies for dropping in on you like this,” he begins, amusement coloring his tone before it fades with his next words. “My brother and I are in need of sanctuary, and we’ve heard that the Cloud Recesses can offer it. My name is Wei Wuxian, and my brother is Jiang Wanyin. Please forgive our rudeness.” Wei Wuxian maintains the bow for the whole introduction, but it becomes lower and shakier until he is leaning on his brother again for support by the end. Lan Wangji stares at the red ribbon in his hair and thinks that it must contain some charm to keep it in place after such a fall, like their Lan forehead ribbons. He does not think about rubbing his fingers at the end or about how soft the man’s hair looks even after a crash like that.

Instead, he motions for the circle to stand down and draws a breath, but Xichen speaks first. “Please do not bow to us. The Gusu Lan sect is honored to receive you. I am Lan Xichen, Peak Lord,” he says, and bows in return. Without hesitation, the disciples around them follow suit until Wei Wuxian is waving his hands in front of him.

“Ah, there’s no need for that! I just crash-landed on your lovely mountain, I should still be the one apologizing!” he says nervously

“No apology necessary,” Xichen assures him.

“I’m really sorry, though! I can help replant everything! I’m good at gardening!” Wei Wuxian grins winningly, and Lan Wangji almost has to squint against its brightness. “Well, I’ve never grown wildflowers, but I can definitely figure it out!!”

Lan Wangji takes another step forward and watches Wei Wuxian’s attention turn to him. It feels like being warmed by the sun. “The Cloud Recesses are open to you for whatever you should need, as long as you need. I am Lan Wangji of the Gusu Lan sect. We are sworn to serve the Dragon King and his descendants.” he pauses, glancing pointedly at the beast still standing threateningly over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “If your brother is willing to lower his guard, we will arrange to carry you to our healer to see to your wounds.”

Wei Wuxian gives another nervous laugh at that. “Who, me? No, no healer–just somewhere to lie down would be amazing.” he’s waving his hands again, dismissive even as the beast next to him—Jiang Wanyin—grumbles in protest, folding his hind legs into a seated position that still mostly obstructs Wei Wuxian from view. Lan Wangji purses his lips in disapproval, wondering how badly the man needed a doctor before falling from the sky. Before he can say anything, the man continues, “but my brother is starving. Do you have any meat?”

The disciples blanch, but Lan Xichen smiles indulgently and inclines his head. “I’m afraid we don’t eat meat in the Cloud Recesses, but I guarantee we have plenty of hearty food to nourish your body here,” he says, and Wei Wuxian’s face drops dramatically for a moment before he schools it into place. Lan Wangji files this information away for later.

Xichen raises his arms with a flourish to bow again, the pixiu’s eyes tracking his movements with a heavy stare. “You’ll forgive me for insisting on taking you to our healer, as your wounds do look quite severe. May I ask how the two of you came into this predicament?” The clan leader’s tone is polite but firm, and he inclines his head toward the crater meaningfully. Lan Wangji huffs and narrows his eyes for the answer. Why would this man refuse a healer after falling from the sky?

But Wei Wuxian just smiles wistfully and runs a hand over his brother’s wings, thinking for a moment. “You know how it is, when mortal folk encounter divinity,” he says with yet another wave of his hand, and Lan Wangji shakes his head, not quite surprised at the half-answer. He is surprised when Jiang Wanyin gives a final huff and disappears into a human with very little resemblance to Wei Wuxian.

“We escaped from a group of poachers,” the man grunts. “I don’t really think they’d come this far looking for us, but our magic is still recovering from being suppressed.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice is as annoyed as he looks, but his hands are soft when they reach to steady his brother. “And yeah, I’ll help him to the healer if you lead the way.” he says, turning to Lan Xichen who has frozen.

“You—“ Lan Xichen’s face twitches and he sweeps a sleeve behind his back. “You are Jiang Wanyin?” he asks politely.

The man raises an eyebrow, looking between the Lan brothers “Yeah? He’s adopted.” He jerks his thumb in Wei Wuxian’s direction.

“Apologies, I meant no offense.“ Xichen looks like he wants to say more, but he stops himself and spins on his heel as Wei Wuxian laughs again, batting at Jiang Wanyin’s still pointing thumb. “Follow me, please. The rest of you, dismissed.” He waves to the group of disciples and begins making his way back to the path that Lan Wangji would need to repair later.

He supposes he can forgive the destruction just this once.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji is in a bit of a dilemma. By the time they get Wei Wuxian to a bed in front of a healer, he’s breathing hard and sweating in exertion. He and Jiang Wanyin have been whispering furiously to each other the whole way, but it seems to have ended at an impasse—both brothers are pursing their lips and pointedly not looking at each other. Jiang Wanyin practically dumps his brother on the bed, and Wei Wuxian immediately collapses onto his back—and herein lies the problem. His hair is plastered to his neck, which Lan Wangji tries not to notice. Then, Wei Wuxian sweeps it up above his head and sighs in relief as the cool air hits his neck, which Lan Wangji definitely notices. He tries not to look at the elegant line of his throat or the way his arms look splayed above his head. Wei Wuxian has sharp collar bones and a slender waist, and his robes are so tattered that he’s not sure he should even be looking. With effort, Lan Wangji tears his eyes away from the man’s panting form and turns to their healer, Lan Wu. “A pixiu,” he reports. “He fell from the sky. What could drain his magic so completely as to drop midair?”

The Lan healer had brightened at the first sentence, but then he grunts distastefully and shakes his head. “Hmm. Poachers, I assume?” he asks. Wei Wuxian shrugs noncommittally, so Jiang Wanyin scoffs and gives a blunt confirmation. Lan Wu nods in return like he had expected the answer. “The prolonged use of magic suppression has very destructive effects, particularly at the end of its duration,” he says and hums before reaching for Wei Wuxian’s wrist. “He will likely recover, but he needs more strength to be stable enough for me to determine the extent of the damage.”

Wei Wuxian, who up until this point had been struggling to catch his breath and sit up, yanks his hand back and raises it defensively in alarm. “Whoa, I’m not hurt! I mean, it’s just a few scrapes. Some food and sleep should have me right as rain.” He turns his wide eyes to Lan Wangji, who only steps closer.

“We want to help.” he says, holding his gaze.

Wei Wuxian seems to panic now, averting his gaze and attempting another laugh. “I’m just malnourished! Jiang Cheng, I don’t need anything more than food and rest, right?” he pleads, turning to his next victim. Unfortunately, Jiang Wanyin is even less forgiving.

“You need whatever the healer says you need,” he says, pointing at his brother threateningly. “Now I’m going to sleep in another room in a bed, and you’re going to behave.”

The brothers engage in another wordless debate. “Fine! Thanks!” Wei Wuxian grouses, apparently having lost.

Jiang Wanyin nods in satisfaction and then cocks his head as he remembers something. “Oh. We’re gonna need to eat soon, though. Should we–?”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry!” Wei Wuxian interrupts, glancing around nervously.

“What are you talking about? I’d be the one getting it anyway! You’re dead on your feet, where would you even go!?”

Wei Wuxian’s face is turned up indignantly as he levels his brother with a scathing look before turning to the others. “Ha, well! We’re carnivores, you see,” he explains. “But we will of course respect your rules and eat outside! How, uh, how many rules do you have again?”

Xichen’s eyes are dancing in amusement. “I see. There is no need. We will arrange for suitable fare, in that case. I apologize for our ignorance—” both brothers blanch and worriedly wave their hands in tandem—“but if you’ll allow us to prepare, I do imagine that an exception can be made for divinity.” At this, Wei Wuxian gives a little cheer. Lan Xichen continues, “Within reason, this will apply to the rest of the rules, as well.”

Wei Wuxian suddenly looks afraid. “Wait, how many are there, though?”

Xichen just smiles. Wei Wuxian’s brows furrow. He’s definitely worried.

“How many?” Jiang Wanyin repeats, looking similarly apprehensive. “Why won’t you just say it?” They exchange an anxious glance.

“Three thousand and forty-two,” Lan Wangji finally answers.

“Three thousand and—” Wei Wuxian cuts himself off, jaw dropping in astonishment. “How does anyone even remember all those?!”

“It is not so unbelievable when you have grown up with them. Wangji is a very diligent student,” Xichen says cryptically. Lan Wangji’s brows twitch. What is he trying to say? Xichen then inclines his head, turning towards the door. “I’ll see that Jiang Wanyin is settled with another healer and get out of your way.” he murmurs to Lan Wu and leaves with Jiang Wanyin in tow. Wei Wuxian may look much worse for wear compared to his brother, but Jiang Wanyin still sports a nasty cut tearing across his shoulder and the same exhausted eyes as his brother. Lan Wangji spares a moment to wonder if Xichen has noticed his eyes on Wei Wuxian and is simply giving them an opportunity to have marginally more privacy, but he quickly dismisses the thought. More likely that Jiang Wanyin caught his eye, knowing his xiongzhang.

With Xichen and Jiang Wanyin gone, the remaining Lans look at Wei Wuxian expectantly. When he realizes he has no one else to turn to, he sags in the bed with a dramatic swoop. “Just no needles, please,” he requests, resigned, and Lan Wangji huffs and resolutely looks away as the healer reaches again for Wei Wuxian’s wrist and begins transferring energy.

Immediately, the pixiu gasps and goes taut, eyes clouding over for a split-second before he yanks his hand away and cradles it to his chest like he’d been burned. Lan Wangji, shocked, reaches out abortively before dropping his hands, wondering what went wrong. “Sorry, it just surprised me!” Wei Wuxian claims and straightens up. “I’m ready now,” he assures them with a confident smile.

Lan Wu ignores him. “Hmm. Wangji, your qi may provide a smoother conduit for an immortal. Try transferring energy to him, and pay attention to where it goes first.”

Lan Wangji feels a thrum of anticipation as he steps forward. Wei Wuxian’s hands have multiple abrasions—Lan Wangji thinks offhandedly that the wounds should be cleaned immediately regardless of the qi transfer, but then he registers how warm he is in Lan Wangji’s hands. This time Wei Wuxian winces and his face subtly twists, but he keeps his hand in Lan Wangji’s. His minor wounds sluggishly start to close, but they don’t get very far before Lan Wu raises a hand. “Stop. It should not be hurting,” he muses with a crease in his brow.

Wei Wuxian pouts. Lan Wangji does not look at his lips. “How long will you try before you give up and let me sleep?” the man complains, but Lan Wu is undeterred.

“Wei Wuxian, is there anything else I should know?” the healer presses.

The man in question shrinks with another laugh. “Ah, well.” And he hesitates. This laugh is rueful, Lan Wangji notes. He has been gathering observations of the enigma that is Wei Wuxian with rapt attention since he arrived. Whether he acknowledges it or not, there is something about the man that he can’t look away from. Something quiet and tentative and altogether unfamiliar. Not that it matters–Wei Wuxian is a divine beast, an untouchable being of a different world, and he will leave as soon as he and his brother have recovered. Lan Wangji tells himself this as he struggles to look away. He will not harbor inappropriate thoughts. He will stop looking at the man’s lips. Now.

Wei Wuxian is still carefully casual. The Lans stare him down, unwilling to break the silence. He gulps before finally speaking. ”I’m not sure why, but it’s always been like that for me,” he says quietly with a shrug and a defeated sigh, as if that was the big secret. Lan Wangji does not know him well, but he is nearly certain this is another deflection.

Lan Wu stares until it becomes apparent that Wei Wuxian will say no more. “Can you tolerate the pain long enough to heal your wounds?” he asks, straight to the point, and Lan Wangji turns to him with a quiet sound of protest. Lan Wu hushes him reproachfully before turning his attention back to Wei Wuxian. “You have at least two broken ribs and several deeper wounds. It will take weeks to heal instead of days. It is your choice.”

Wei Wuxian thinks for a moment before shrugging. “I can do it. It really doesn’t hurt,” he insists. He holds his hand out once more, posture relaxed and open.

Lan Wangji takes the hand and then pauses. “Perhaps two points of contact will ease the transfer,” he suggests and looks askance at Wei Wuxian’s other hand. He reminds himself that he is only trying to help a revered creature of the heavens. Wei Wuxian is in the Cloud Recesses for safety and safety alone. Safety and food, that is. He wonders what Wei Wuxian likes to eat. Focus, Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian blinks at him and gives a small smile, and Lan Wangji’s previous thoughts disappear like air. “Sure, actually, that’ll help circulate it more evenly, right?” he admits, not looking at them. “Thanks,” he whispers with a secret smile, and it grows as he raises his other arm. Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and recites the sect rules. Be ethical. Do not be greedy. Do not take advantage of your position or connections. He takes the other hand and slowly, gently, begins the qi transfer.

Wei Wuxian barely tenses, slight enough that it could have been Lan Wangji’s imagination. “How is that?” he prompts, concerned.

“Better! Definitely easier.” He looks down and sucks in a quick breath as his ribs audibly creak. “Wow, that’s really working, huh?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji hums, and Wei Wuxian laughs. He files it away with another note that this is how he laughs when he is suffering and does not want to show it.

“You’re a man of few words, I see! But who will distract me, then?” He pretends to sniffle while looking at Lan Wangji meaningfully. Lan Wangji has a moment to think, shameless, but then no longer has the capacity to answer him when their eyes connect. He is lost again, adrift in the sea, images flashing in his mind too quickly to register. Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows, and Lan Wangji looks down.

“What would you like me to talk about?” he manages after catching his breath.

“Tell me about yourself!” the strange man says cheerily. Lan Wangji dimly wonders if perhaps Wei Wuxian is exaggerating the pain, but he quickly shuts it down. The pixiu’s eyes flinch with every pulse of qi, and his hands have started to subtly shake in Lan Wangji’s own.

He’s so preoccupied that he hesitates for too long, and Wei Wuxian looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “Okay, I’ll start. Are you and Lan Xichen twins? You look so similar!”

“We are brothers,” Lan Wangji answers and casts about for something else to say. “Xiongzhang is the head of the clan.”

“Yes, yes. You’re the younger brother then, huh, Lan-er-gege?”

Lan Wangji tries not to choke. Lan Wu looks away politely.

“I am the second son,” he says with great difficulty. Is he being teased? Teasing from Wei Wuxian is another dilemma, one that Lan Wangji isn’t sure will be good for his dignity. He’s never cared for his reputation, but he still finds himself wanting to impress the object of his potential, quickly growing affections. Is that what this feeling is? “And you?”

“Jiang Cheng is my little brother! Can’t you tell by the way that he always pretends to be annoyed with me?” Wei Wuxian replies brightly, and Lan Wangji is not sure he should answer that question.

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian muses after Lan Wangji has once again failed to respond in a timely manner. He seems to think for a moment before moving on to the next topic, oblivious to Lan Wangji’s internal panic. Lan-Er-Gege, his brain is still repeating. He doesn’t visibly shake his head to clear the thought, but it’s a near thing. Wei Wuxian continues, eyes wide and curious. “I heard your disciples calling you Hanguang-Jun! What’s that about?”

Another silence. Wei Wuxian waits patiently this time. “I go where help is needed,” Lan Wangji starts. “I suppose it has earned me some manner of reputation. There are many who live outside of a sect’s influence or under its notice.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, eyes glimmering. “You really are all cultivators, then! And even the great Lord Lan Wangji descends the mountain to find chaos and help the common people. I’ve always envied a life like that, you know!” He suddenly stops and turns bashful, and Lan Wangji mentally records this facial expression as well–the upturned eyebrows and crooked smile. “Well, obviously I’m a talker! It’s part of the distraction, you see,” Wei Wuxian confesses, nodding to himself. “It’s okay if you don’t have much to say–I have enough for the both of us!”

Lan Wangji thinks dazedly that this time, the chaos has found him.

At this, Lan Wu finally decides he has heard enough. “Stop here. His ribs are intact. We will continue tomorrow to avoid backlash from the sudden energy deposit.”

For several seconds too long, they do not let go of each other’s hands. Lan Wangji is again pulled into his gaze like a moth to a flame. He tries not to look at Wei Wuxian’s lips, and when he fails, Wei Wuxian is already looking away and gently removing his hands from Lan Wangji’s grip. He misses the warmth and promptly recites the rules at the sentiment. Morality is the priority. Honor good people. Do not fall to evil.

Lan Wu glances between them, perplexed. He privately thinks to himself that Lan Wangji actually seems… engaged? The man is casually apathetic to most conversation partners at best and openly disdainful to others. When he looks at Wei Wuxian, the line of his brows is softer, his expression earnest. Lan Wu shakes his head and reminds himself that the affairs of the Second Jade of Lan are not his business.

“Allow me to clean your remaining injuries,” the healer instructs with little room for argument.

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian begins, glancing at Lan Wangji uncertainly. This is, of course, when he realizes that many of Wei Wuxian’s remaining injuries are on his torso. Again, Lan Wangji has probably seen more skin than he should have, and he should not encroach on the man’s privacy any more than he already has.

“I leave him in your care,” he says with a dip of his head. Lan Wu nods back and turns to help Wei Wuxian out of his robes, and Lan Wangji spins on his heel more quickly than is probably natural.

“Thank you, Lan Wangji! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Wei Wuxian calls as he exits, and he nearly misses a step.

–

Lan Wangji rises at dawn the next day, as is his routine. He meditates, makes tea, eats breakfast, and then—in a stark deviation from his usual routine–he goes to check on Wei Wuxian. Tomorrow, he said. He fully expected to see Lan Wangji again, and he certainly cannot disappoint. He nods firmly to himself and sets off.

Wei Wuxian is, predictably, still asleep. He lies on his side with an arm pillowing his head, fresh robes draped elegantly over a frame that perhaps shouldn’t be so thin but is no less beautiful for it. As Lan Wangji draws closer, he realizes that Wei Wuxian’s brows are drawn together, his mouth set in a hard line. His body curls inward ever so slightly. Lan Wangji watches him and wonders what nightmares hinder his sleep. Wonders, again, what he’s gone through to be drained of his life force, to be hurt by its return. He is still pondering when Wei Wuxian’s face suddenly smooths out, and his tense expression is replaced by one of peace. Lan Wangji draws a breath as he stirs, but the man does not wake.

His hair, which was piled over his shoulder, has begun falling down his neck and over his face, and Lan Wangji’s hand itches with the urge to reach out and draw the strands back behind his ear. To run his fingers through it; to know if it’s as soft as it looks. His face is mostly obscured now, but the curve of his lips and the shape of his brow are tantalizingly visible. Lan Wangji begins reciting the clan’s precepts in his head again. Eventually, he falls into a meditative state.

When Wei Wuxian finally wakes, it is with a jolt and a gasp of pain. His hands come up to clutch his ribs, and Lan Wangji rushes to support him. “Lie down,” he starts to say, but Wei Wuxian is not listening. His eyes are unfocused and his breathing is coming in quick, short breaths. Tense as he is, the man is perfectly still, with his arms still pressed to his sides.

“Wei-gongzi?” Lan Wangji tries. Had he been having a nightmare?

Upon hearing his name, Wei Wuxian relaxes and meets Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know where I was at first,” he laughs, gesturing to the room before flinching with a hiss.

“You should not aggravate your injuries,” Lan Wangji says, and then regrets it when Wei Wuxian gives him a look he doesn’t know how to interpret. Of course, he had to state the obvious when Wei Wuxian was already in pain. Insensitive, he chastises himself. “Allow me to assist,” he amends, trying to recover.

Wei Wuxian, for his part, is entirely unconcerned. Maybe just hungry. Lan Wangji goes back to wondering what he likes to eat, and then he is gripped by the sudden and dreadful realization that he does not know how to cook meat. He will have to learn. However, he presently needs to focus on maintaining a conversation. Luckily, that is not generally hard to do with Wei Wuxian.

“Assist with what? I’m fine, I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian waves him off nonsensically, then claps his hands excitedly. “Good morning, Lan Wangji! It’s a pleasure to see you again. Truly, a delight. What have you done today? I hear Lans wake up at an unreasonable hour when dawn has barely broken the horizon. Am I right?”

Lan Wangji’s brain stalls trying to process the sheer amount of words. Wei Wuxian’s gesturing hands, his easy smile and his bright eyes that again look like they’re sharing a secret–the surge of sensory input has him staring blankly for several seconds. When he finally parses Wei Wuxian’s words up to the question at the end, he tilts his head in confusion. “We rise at five. Do you not?”

Wei Wuxian looks alarmed. “No, why would I put myself through that!? The only reason I’m awake right now is because I slept all day yesterday. And honestly, I’ll probably pass out again right after eating,” he glances up at Lan Wangji from under his lashes, a look that makes his stomach flip. “If that can be arranged?”

Lan Wangji inwardly despairs at both the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face and at his own personal failures–if he knew how to cook meat, he could feed Wei Wuxian himself. Outwardly, he nods. “I will fetch a meal. Please wait for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Wei Wuxian replies, and Lan Wangji bows and quickly turns away to hide his blush. Of course Wei Wuxian has no choice but to wait–why would he say that? Please wait for me, as if he was departing for a long journey instead of for the kitchens. Ridiculous. Lan Wangji admonishes himself on his way out and tries to stop thinking about the way Wei Wuxian looks when he sleeps. He will make a better showing when he returns, certainly.

Chapter Text

As he treads the familiar paths of the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji has time to reflect on the unprecedented extent to which he has been influenced by the arrival of the pixiu brothers–one of them, to be exact. Lan Wangji has been entranced by Wei Wuxian in a way he’s never felt before. The closest comparison he has to offer is not one he takes pride in. After all, he has only indulged in alcohol once before. Xichen had offered him a cup with a gentle “you don’t have to,” and Lan Wangji had been so indignant that he downed it in one go. He remembers that before he felt the headache and the mortification and the general fallout, he had been engulfed in something close to euphoria. He thinks he feels that again now, every time Wei Wuxian’s full attention is on him. He’s not sure if the feeling bodes well. After all, Wei Wuxian will not remain in the Cloud Recesses longer than necessary. And of course, Lan Wangji will do everything in his power to ensure that he will be comfortable and content during his recovery. He will not harbor inappropriate thoughts about the heavenly being currently taking refuge in his domain. Most of all, he will not get so attached as to feel anything close to the consequences of imbibing alcohol. Lan Wangji thinks this to himself and carries on, feeling reasonably justified and perhaps overly optimistic.

When he reaches the kitchen, a disciple who had seen the pixiu brothers’ arrival firsthand immediately guesses what he wants. “The pork!” the disciple calls over their shoulder after bowing deeply. Turning back to Lan Wangji, they say, “Hanguang-jun, we’ve never made pork before, or any meat. Please forgive these disciples if the food is not to Wei-gongzi’s taste—we will endeavor to develop our skills and soon will make food that they both like!”

Lan Wangji is not sure whether he’s disappointed or smug. On one hand, the task of feeding Wei Wuxian is now a level playing field that he can take advantage of. On the other, this probably means that the man will not be able to eat food he enjoys until someone learns properly. Both paths should be judiciously pursued, he thinks. Finally, he nods at the junior and thanks him.

“Well, here you go,” says a cook emerging from the building and handing the food off with the air of someone resigned to failure. It does not inspire confidence.

“Has someone come to retrieve food for Jiang Wanyin as well?” Lan Wangji checks, though he doesn’t really want to make the detour.

“Yes, Zewu-jun came this morning to personally deliver it to him!” The young disciple supplies helpfully before their face falls. “He said that it was ‘edible.’ But we will keep improving!”

He doesn’t laugh, but he suppresses a twitch of his lips. He thanks the cooks again and takes his leave, hoping that Wei Wuxian will not mind the learning curve that his food will undergo in the coming days.

When he arrives back at the medical wing, Wei Wuxian has fallen asleep again. Lan Wangji elects to let him sleep, following Lan Wu’s recommendation of rest above all else. He sets a warming talisman to preserve the meal, and then he settles in across the room to meditate again.

When Wei Wuxian next wakes, it has been long enough that Lan Wangji has already replaced the bowl with freshly cooked pork and rice. He is pleased that he had done so very shortly before the man awoke–the cooks had assured him that this meal was already an improvement upon the previous one. Jiang Wanyin has been eating a lot, it seems.

(“Jiang-gongzi has eaten five bowls!” a disciple tells him with awe. “But Zewu-jun said to keep feeding him, so I think we’ll need to make more for Wei-gongzi as well.” Do not eat more than three bowls, Lan Wangji’s mind recites. Naturally, this would be another rule that divine beasts are not subject to. Wei Wuxian must be similarly hungry, so he secures another bowl and resolves to return shortly with the man’s verdict, so as to improve the taste more quickly than in Jiang Wanyin’s experience.)

“That actually smells so good. Can I have some, or do I just have to look at it?” Wei Wuxian suddenly pipes up, awake and propping himself up on his elbows. Lan Wangji does not jump, but his ears burn inexplicably.

“It is for you,” he responds simply. Wei Wuxian gives a whoop of excitement.

“Help me sit up, please?” the man requests. Lan Wangji tries not to let his blush show as he approaches and slips a hand under Wei Wuxian’s back to support him. The sudden warmth makes him wish he didn’t routinely wear so many robes, and then he must interrogate whether it’s because he feels too warm or he’d like to have fewer layers between them. His face burns at the thought.

Wei Wuxian makes grabby hands for the food, and Lan Wangji is hopelessly endeared. He feels an embarrassing amount of disappointment that the man does not need help eating it. That would be worse, Lan Wangji reminds himself. He does not want Wei Wuxian to be in any further discomfort. The image, though, is interesting. He decides to stop analyzing his feelings for now and let them be before he does something embarrassing.

At the first bite of food, Wei Wuxian’s face goes carefully blank. Lan Wangji panics and rushes to explain. “Our cooks have not had the opportunity to prepare meat until now. They are determined to learn your preferences so that you may eat well from now on.”

Wei Wuxian laughs out loud. “My preferences! Don’t worry, everything here already suits my preferences,” he assures him. Lan Wangji, again, feels that he must not examine the words too closely, nor the flush high on the man’s cheeks that he must be imagining. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are already too hot on his skin, already burning straight through him, and he suddenly feels self-conscious. He would not be surprised if Wei Wuxian had the ability to read minds–the knowing glint in his eyes makes Lan Wangji feel like he’s seeing the world upside down.

“What do you like to eat?” Lan Wangji asks, trying to steer the conversation into safer territory. Wei Wuxian instantly brightens.

“Flavor! Spice! If there’s no chili oil then it’s boring. No offense,” Wei Wuxian grins. “Ah, I would give anything for my shijie’s lotus root pork rib soup,” he sighs wistfully. Do not be difficult with food, his mind recites, but he simply can’t find it in him to reproach Wei Wuxian.

“Your shijie?” Lan Wangji questions.

It was a mistake. He watches helplessly as Wei Wuxian’s eyes shutter. “Yeah,” he says distantly. “I’ll see her again soon.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything—doesn’t think it would help. Surely his shijie isn’t still in the hands of the “poachers” that had chased her brothers here? Either way, he’s not going to ask—not when the mere thought has Wei Wuxian withdrawing. He doesn’t know anything about the man, not really. And yet, rather than fear or apprehension at this fact, Lan Wangji feels only anticipation.

“Chili oil!” Wei Wuxian abruptly shouts, and Lan Wangji has to remind himself that they had been talking about food. He’s grateful for the redirection, anyhow.

“Chili oil?”

“Yes! It makes everything taste better!” Wei Wuxian insists. “One of your little juniors told me there’s a town just down the mountain, and they should have better food! Sorry,” he says as an afterthought, and Lan Wangji feels a rush of fondness.

“No need,” he says. “I will retrieve some and have it incorporated. Does Jiang Wanyin also..?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m talking heaping spoonfuls of the stuff,” Wei Wuxian answers very seriously.

Lan Wangji, having no knowledge of the average chili oil portion, is equally serious. “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles and resumes eating. “This is still good for now, though! Is it the kind of food you like?”

Do not talk during meal times. “Mn. I suppose,” is all Lan Wangji says. It’s not difficult to push the thoughts away, though he’s almost let the words slip out several times despite himself.

A knock at the door precedes the arrival of Lan Wu. He wastes no time in striding over to the bed. “Good, you’re eating. Allow me to examine you.”

Wei Wuxian’s face when the healer snatches the bowl of food right out of his hands is nothing short of devastated. No words come out, but his eyes are wide in shock. The healer takes his wrist and hums after a moment. “Slight improvement. Not as significant as expected, but better than nothing.”

“Great! I’m good, then?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Whatever you define as ‘good’ is not what I would apply to you. You may walk starting tomorrow and no sooner. You must pace yourself.”

Wei Wuxian huffs. “Yes, shifu.”

“Are you willing to undergo another qi transfer? It would increase your physical threshold. Tomorrow.”

Wei Wuxian laughs a little at that, turning to face Lan Wangji. Suddenly his smiling face turns into one of innocence. “Only if Lan Wangji is willing, with this one…” he trails off, dancing eyes captivating.

Lan Wangji’s ears instantly heat again. Wei Wuxian cannot be implying anything more than the qi transfer, surely. Yet his heart beats unsteadily as he nods his assent, and they begin.

He reaches out first; Wei Wuxian follows with a soft smile. They join hands and breathe as one, and then Lan Wangji pushes the thinnest thread of qi through his body and into Wei Wuxian’s. The man closes his eyes, an uncharacteristic tightness to his face being the only indication that he may be in any discomfort.

“You said that you enjoy gardening,” Lan Wangji says abruptly, remembering the conversation from the day before–Wei Wuxian had been so guilt-ridden over the crater he’d left, and all Lan Wangji did in the meantime was admire the beauty before him, oblivious to the chaos around him.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes snap open. He’s confused at first, but then a slow smile overtakes his face. “Lan Wangji, are you distracting me?”

Lan Wangji fears that he misinterpreted or overstepped, but Wei Wuxian continues before he can apologize.

“I graciously accept. I love gardening, yes, but my skills are limited,” he admits with a snort. “I have a beautiful lotus pond, if I do say so myself! But I’ve also grown things like potatoes and radishes, I guess.”

Wei Wuxian is drastically more excited about the lotus pond than anything else he’s spoken of as yet. Could Lan Wangji grow lotuses here in the Cloud Recesses? Surely it’s possible. He will look into it. For now, he casts about for a response. “A lotus pond?” he ends up asking. It works well enough, because Wei Wuxian brightens again.

“Yes! Do you like lotus seeds? I basically grew up on them.”

“I have not tried them,” Lan Wangji confesses.

“Then we’ll have to change that! I wonder if there are any at that market.”

“Mn. I will look.”

Wei Wuxian grins. “Or we could go together when I’m well enough?” he asks cheekily.

Lan Wangji is briefly consumed by the image of them walking through Caiyi town, hand in hand. He would buy Wei Wuxian anything he wanted. Does he like pretty things, or does he favor the practical? “Mn. When the healer grants permission,” he allows.

“What about you? Actually, who does the landscaping around here?” Wei Wuxian asks, and Lan Wangji’s blush deepens. “What, is it you?” he jokes.

Lan Wangji does not answer.

“Oh my god, it’s you! How much do you do? When I landed, was it on something you’d grown yourself!?” Wei Wuxian is practically tripping over his words, and it’s all Lan Wangji can do to keep up.

“Do not worry,” he intones.

“That’s another yes!” Wei Wuxian cries.

“It is already fixed,” Lan Wangji assures him.

Wei Wuxian gazes up at him woefully. He is so compelled by the sight that his flow of qi stutters for the briefest moment, and Wei Wuxian flinches. Lan Wangji immediately withdraws, apology spilling from his lips. The moment is broken.

“That’s enough,” Lan Wu cuts in. “Your ribs are healed, and these wounds,” he gestures to the bandages on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and abdomen, “are well on their way. None of them were clean cuts, so I’m afraid they will all scar.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “I’ll survive.”

“Do not strain yourself. If you aggravate your ribs again, it will take longer to heal.”

“Yes, shifu,” Wei Wuxian says obediently.

Lan Wu packs his things and stands. “I will take my leave for the evening, but please don’t hesitate to call on me should the need arise,” he says with a polite bow.

“Thank you!” Wei Wuxian waves and heaves a sigh of relief when the healer is gone. “See? Perfectly healthy!” he tries.

Lan Wangji is confused. “You are not.”

Wei Wuxian looks a little dismayed. “It was a joke! I’m aware that I’m not in the best shape right now,” he mumbles sheepishly, looking down at himself.

Wei Wuxian is beautiful, Lan Wangji narrowly avoids saying out loud. “Give yourself time to recover,” he says as a compromise.

“Right, right. Good thing I have you to help, right?” Wei Wuxian teases, and Lan Wangji struggles to fight the blush that he can feel spreading down his face.

He gathers his courage and nods. “Mn,” he confirms.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Relax, I know you have important things to do as the Second Lord of Lan. You don’t have to babysit me,” He insists, but his expression looks hopeful.

Lan Wangji cannot lie, but he doesn’t want to admit that he’s delegated many of his duties to his senior disciples for the sole purpose of spending time with Wei Wuxian. It’s not that different–he already spends a substantial amount of time away from the mountain, following chaos–he is only honoring his namesake. Instead, he says, “If you would like to be alone, I will leave you.”

Wei Wuxian waves his hands in front of him. “No, that’s not what I meant! I am honored to be in the company of Hanguang-jun! I only worry about taking all your time.”

“No need. I want to help.” I follow chaos and you must be its god.

Wei Wuxian searches his face. Whatever he sees, it’s enough for him to nod and quietly say, “Okay. Thank you.”

Lan Wangji resists the urge to repeat himself. As if a heavenly being should thank him for any service, let alone his company. I want to take care of him, he thinks unbidden, and is surprised at himself. Despite the cold exterior, Lan Wangji has always held a softness inside him. Not many can draw it out, but somehow this man—who he has not even known for two days—has opened the floodgates to reveal just how soft he can be.

—

The next day, Wei Wuxian becomes a different creature. Lan Wangji recalls the soft and gentle feelings from the day before, and he takes them back. Nothing about this man or the way he makes Lan Wangji feel is soft.

As it turns out, Wei Wuxian grew bored far more quickly than he’d expected. Per Lan Wu’s instruction, he is not to attempt to walk until he has been examined. To no one’s surprise, he is not happy about this. He spends the morning draping himself across the bed in increasingly uncomfortable-looking positions that still manage to catch Lan Wangji’s interest like flint and steel. He demands paper, and ink, and music, and more chili oil, and any stories he can wheedle out of Lan Wangji–all of which he would be happy to provide, were it not for the running commentary that never seems to end. Yet every time Lan Wangji opens his mouth to beg for a moment of peace, his breath is taken by the curve of Wei Wuxian’s smile.

“Hanguang-jun! Lan Wangji!” Wei Wuxian calls for perhaps the hundredth time, and he no longer attempts to hide his sigh. “What am I to do with all this time?”

“Generally our disciples spend their time reading, writing, and practicing music. Or copying rules, if they’ve broken them.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen. “Ha ha! Not me though, right?” he checks.

Lan Wangji’s eyebrow twitches. Would that he could dole punishment out to a divine beast; Wei Wuxian would be copying pages. After a morning spent being teased into a rage by the man, Lan Wangji would enjoy walking him through the multitude of rules he’s broken in his short time in the Cloud Recesses.

“Mn. Not you,” he still says.

Wei Wuxian relaxes. “Not that I’d take advantage of that! ” he claims, as if he hasn’t been doing just that since he arrived.

Something must show on Kan Wangji’s face, because Wei Wuxian turns sheepish. “Sorry, I haven’t had anyone friendly to talk to in a while,” Wei Wuxian suddenly confesses. “You’re my friend now, aren’t you?”

Lan Wangji sucks in a quiet breath. Is that what they are? “Mn,” he confirms.

“Yes! Okay, full disclosure, I may have overstated Jiang Cheng’s love for spice. See, it’s actually me that likes it the most.” At Lan Wangji’s alarmed glare, he continues, “He still likes it! He’ll eat more than you Lans could ever handle! No offense,” he says, and Lan Wangji is finding it harder and harder not to take offense.

“Should I instruct the kitchens to use less chili oil for him?” he asks very seriously, too seriously for Wei Wuxian to still chortle and shake his head.

“Nah, he’ll figure it out for himself.”

Lan Wangji stands to leave anyway, highly skeptical. “It is meal time.”

“Wait! Lan Wangji!” Wei Wuxian shouts. “He’ll be fine! Hanguang-Jun! Lan-er-gege!”

Lan Wangji stiffens, recalling the last time Wei Wuxian called him that. He narrows his eyes, but the man only grins in triumph. “Do you not like that one, Gege?” he teases, and Lan Wangji’s eyes flash. That he would dare call–after only three days!–“What should I call you, then?”

Agitated or not, Lan Wangji feels his stomach jump at the thought of knowing Wei Wuxian’s given name. Could they be so informal? Would Wei Wuxian write it off? “Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji grits out, hoping to forego the teasing. It only makes it worse.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats, delighted. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! We really are friends now!”

“Hm.” He kind of likes the sound of it despite himself.

“You can’t take it back! I know that look! It’s too late,” Wei Wuxian proclaims, smug.

That Wei Wuxian would recognize any expression of his is already an anomaly. “I will not. You–”

“Wei Ying,” the man interrupts, and it stops him in his tracks. “My name is Wei Ying.”

“Wei Ying.” It’s Lan Wangji’s turn, now, to repeat the other’s name. The irritation dissolves as quickly as it came. “Wei Ying.” It tastes sweet on his tongue, familiar like it was always meant to be safe in his mouth. “Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes glimmer, cheeks suddenly dusted with a faint blush that Lan Wangji marvels at. “I should be thanking you. For everything, really,” he murmurs. “We were–we needed help, but I can’t believe we got so lucky as to end up here. Lan Zhan, you really saved us.”

Lan Wangji is frozen. He won’t ask, but he wonders again what could possibly have happened to them. He’s glad, too, that the brothers ended up in Gusu, though he won’t say so—he fears that saying so will imply some measure of condoning whatever they went through. Maybe he’s overthinking that part.

He’s spared from answering when the door slams open to reveal Jiang Wanyin, looking as harried as ever. “Wei Wuxian! What did you do!?” He shouts, and Wei Wuxian jolts with wide eyes.

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

Jiang Wanyin’s expression darkens, and he points an aggressive, accusatory finger at his brother. “You think I don’t know it was you? My food, you asshole! Why is it more chili oil than food!”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian glances guiltily at Lan Wangji. “It must have gotten mixed up!”

Both men stare at him. Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian is lying by not admitting what he knows. He too, then, is lying by omission unless he reveals Wei Wuxian’s involvement. With a mental shrug (and a mental wail at his descent into depravity,) he calmly says, “Mn. I misunderstood and told them you liked it.”

Jiang Wanyin rears back in shock. “I like it!” he argues. “I do like chili oil, but a normal amount! Not whatever that monster eats!”

Lan Wangji has never heard so much yelling in his life. The words roll around in his brain like liquid.

“Hey!” is all Wei Wuxian says in return. He is the perfect part of an innocent bystander, though his surreptitious glances to Lan Wangji and back would give him away if Jiang Wanyin was paying closer attention.

“Apologies. I was unsure as to the portion size,” he continues to drive the point home. It’s too late to go back anyways, he reasons.

In the next moment, there is a knock on the door as yet another person walks into Wei Wuxian’s room. “Ah, it’s quite lively in here!” Lan Wu remarks as he enters. “Wei Wuxian, I imagine you must be itching to move around.”

“Shifu! Yes, shifu,” Wei Wuxian demures.

Jiang Wanyin folds his arms and stays put, and Wei Wuxian waves at him exasperatedly. “Go on, get out of here! Have Zewu-jun fix your food situation for you!”

“Lan Huan is not–”

“Lan Huan?” Wei Wuxian zeroes in, healer forgotten. Lan Wu is undeterred, turning the man this way and that.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I need you to stop thinking and shut up,” Jiang Wanyin warns.

“No worries, I’ve never had a thought in my life!” Wei Wuxian assures him with a salute. “I only feel that this is a very interesting development! Will my sweet shidi enlighten me as to–”

“Whatever, I’m leaving!” Jiang Wanyin shouts and rushes out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Wei Wuxian laughs and slaps a hand on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “That was so good! The chili oil, and your brother–” he cuts himself off, laughing too hard to speak.

“My brother is not typically so familiar,” Lan Wangji muses. He’s not sure about Jiang Wanyin as Wei Wuxian’s brother, let alone as an interest of his own brother’s. The man seems to be full to bursting with spite, yet Wei Wuxian treats him with all the fondness of a proud older sibling. Aside from the pranking, apparently.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wu says gravely, and the laugh dies in Wei Wuxian’s throat. “Your qi is still blocked, and I do not know why.”

Wei Wuxian’s expression goes blank. “Blocked?” he asks. “It doesn’t feel blocked.”

“Hm,” Lan Wu replies, turning to Lan Wangji. “My lord, if you would give me a moment.”

Lan Wangji immediately stands to leave, pushing down the concern. “Lan Zhan! Don’t leave me!” Wei Wuxian cries dramatically, and he steadfastly does not allow himself to be swayed.

“I will return,” he assures him, and then he walks away and shuts the door behind him. He does not need to know whatever secrets lie behind Wei Wuxian’s bright facade; he only needs to protect him from those who would hurt him. In this case, Lan Wu can help more than he can. Lan Wangji, too, will endeavor to be useful to him–perhaps starting with learning to cook pork.

—

He doesn’t see Wei Wuxian again that day. And then, he doesn’t see him the next day. Lan Wu tells him there are deeper complications to the pixiu’s health that, Lan Wangji notes, are apparently not shared by Jiang Wanyin—he and Lan Xichen have been going everywhere together, and Lan Wangji has been doing paperwork to keep himself occupied. He convinces a few townspeople to teach him to cook and to grow lotuses, and he sets to work.

Chapter Text

When Wei Wuxian wakes up human in a pixiu-sized crater, he knows he’s fucked up. He can’t find a part of his body that doesn’t hurt, but the throbbing in his head is probably the worst part–Jiang Cheng is roaring over him, spitting in rage—something Wei Wuxian honestly wouldn’t be too worried about under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, these are not normal circumstances. He looks around and they’re surrounded by a circle of white-clad… teenagers? With swords? Cultivators? No, there are adults here, too. They kind of look like—

He looks up and meets the eyes of someone who must surely be deity. Pale eyes like honeyed ice, sharpness in every line of his face, and… a Lan forehead ribbon.

He scrambles to his feet. “Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng, it’s okay!” He can’t believe their luck. The Lan Clan of Gusu, servants of divinity, models of integrity and healing. Most importantly, large and powerful enough to fend off the Wens should they be tracked here. Truly, it’s the best possible outcome. The impossibly beautiful, immortal cultivator who resides here is just another pleasant surprise.

—

He barely makes it to the healer’s pavilion. Jiang Cheng pesters him the whole way about his fall, digging and prodding at him for answers he cannot give, barely conscious and hazy with pain. He can’t even see properly, vision tunneled and spotted, let alone think. But he knows that they’re going somewhere safe, and that’s enough to keep him on his feet until his knees hit the edge of a bed and he crumbles. His chest is screaming at him, but he can’t help the laughter that spills out of him at the responses he gets for his theatrics. Maybe he’s not being so theatrical at this point, he thinks to himself, but it’s good that that’s what they think is happening.

It’s not until the healer reaches for him that he truly panics. It occurs to him that anyone with a golden core could feel for his meridians right now and know that there is something terribly wrong, and then they would have a lot more questions he doesn’t want to answer. He just wants to sleep, okay?

”We want to help.” Lan Wangji says, holding his gaze.

Wei Wuxian‘s panic is now deafening. Who the hell is this guy? Why do those words kind of make him want to comply? Of course, once Jiang Cheng joins in, he doesn’t have much of a choice. At least they’ll get to eat proper food sometime soon. So he resigns himself, tensing and waiting for Lan Wu to… seal his fate, or something.

Despite his reservations, the healer doesn’t even seem to notice the gaping maw that is his lower dantian—or maybe doesn’t have time to, because Wei Wuxian is so shocked at the sudden spike of pain that he doesn’t have time to suppress his reaction. He yanks his hand away and stares at it, appalled. Why would that hurt? Examining the flow of his meridians has never caused any discomfort before.

Lan Wu is instantly suspicious, but he doesn’t have enough information to make any conclusions. For that, Wei Wuxian is glad. He’s happy to be a bit of a mystery.

As soon as he has to hold Lan Wangji’s hands, though, all bets are off. How is he supposed to focus on his own energy when Lan Wangji’s feels like that? He botches the first try immediately, unprepared for the sheer power of the man’s qi. The second time, the sensation is still undeniably sharp, and he tenses again as soon as he feels it. It’s smoother, though, than Lan Wu’s was. It’s warm and powerful, and he tries not to be too openly awed at the man before him.

These Lans with their impossibly beautiful faces and their three thousand rules—what is Wei Wuxian meant to do?! He can barely keep still with his hands in Lan Wangji’s, and he certainly doesn’t dare to look at him right now. The energy is surging through him, burning everything in its path. Soon, the sharpness turns into a dull ache that almost feels nice. Wei Wuxian thinks to himself that he actually can survive this.

This is, of course, when he meets Lan Wangji’s eyes again. He’s immediately so distracted and nervous that his mouth starts firing off with absolutely no input from his brain. And then the man has the absolute nerve to be funny. Isn’t there some rule against this buried somewhere among the thousands?

By the time Lan Wu finally stops them, he feels light and floaty. It’s like Lan Wangji really had gone and filled his empty spaces with light. But then he leaves, and Wei Wuxian is alone with the healer—and he’s not sure how to get out of it this time.

“Wei Wuxian. What is wrong with your core?” Lan Wu cuts straight to the point.

Wei Wuxian wishes he had come up with a good cover story, because he’s grasping at straws now. “It’s been different ever since we went to that camp. I don’t know what they did to me,” he offers. It’s not a lie.

“Hm. Very well,” the healer says, clinical. “We will continue to monitor it through your withdrawals–it may be a temporary side effect.”

The words are cold in his chest. A temporary side effect, his mind repeats in a loop. A temporary side effect, instead of a lifelong curse of his own making. Wei Wuxian has to hold back a bitter scoff, trying not to imagine what could have been.  “I hope so,” he whispers, and that’s not a lie either.

–

Jiang Cheng is crying for the first time since Lotus Pier burned. His breath comes in short gasps, tears mixing with the blood streaming from a cut above his eyebrow as his eyes dart wildly between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao. “Stop,” he pleads. Wen Chao does not listen, and then Wei Wuxian’s senses are blaring in agony as the brand touches his chest–

“Wei-gongzi?” is the first thing he hears when he wakes with a gasp of pain as his injuries scream. It takes him too long to recognize his surroundings, and by that point Lan Wangji looks properly concerned. “You should not aggravate your injuries,” he says.

Wei Wuxian makes a face. They shouldn’t aggravate me, then, he thinks petulantly. He’s too relieved to be there to voice the thought, belatedly realizing that the other person in the room is Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian probably looks like death. He’s starving, too, and Lan Wangji instantly stands to leave when he says as much.

Of course, Wei Wuxian falls asleep before getting the chance to eat the food. He doesn’t dream this time, though. He’s pleased to wake peacefully and have food ready and waiting for him. The fact that Lan Wangji is the one he wakes to might have something to do with it too, he supposes. When he does finally get to eat, Lan Wangji has something that might be a blush coloring the tips of his ears, and Wei Wuxian tries very hard not to read into it. That’s just the wishful thinking of probably everyone who’s ever been in this man’s presence.

As it turns out, Lan Wangji is a man of many surprises. He continues to make Wei Wuxian laugh and gasp in delight, and then when he pulls a silly little prank on Jiang Cheng, he goes along with it. Hanguang-jun, epitome of truth and righteousness, lied to Wei Wuxian’s brother to keep his secret. That, more than anything, made his heart flutter–made him feel weightless. The day passes quickly in his company, and the next day, too.

And then Lan Wu catches him. He’s finally recovered enough for the healer to notice–which Wei Wuxian should have expected, really.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wu says, tone firm but not angry. “I cannot help you if you do not let me.”

Wei Wuxian stares, mind racing. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” He’s panicking, left alone with someone who knows too much. And as soon as Lan Wu figures him out, he’ll be alone against them all.

Lan Wu softens. “I know. I want to help.”

To Wei Wuxian’s abject horror, tears begin to fill his eyes. “I don’t know,” he repeats, and the healer only nods patiently. “I did something so that we could escape, and everything’s been different since then.”

“What did you do?”

There’s a lump in Wei Wuxian’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow past. He wants to run, wants to fly away and never look back. He wants to take Lan Wangji with him and hide away from the world. He wants his family to be okay. He has no one to talk to, not really. He cannot share these burdens; they are too heavy, too ugly to see the light. He should not fall for the sense of safety that the Lan healer has instilled in him. Kind as he is, news travels fast—even in a sect where gossip is forbidden.

“I drew a talisman.” Wei Wuxian’s mouth forms the words despite himself. “It was just meant to counteract the block on our magic.” When Lan Wu does not react, he tentatively continues. “But I added a few lines from something I saw in a book. In a Wen library.”

At this, Lan Wu raises his eyebrows. “The Wens. Of course,” he scoffs. “Only they would be so depraved. Wei Wuxian, I know you are only half-pixiu. I do not know your other half or what happened to it, but I might know of some ways to help. I need you to tell me what you know.”

Wei Wuxian is shell-shocked. How did he know all of that? Lan healers are no joke, he thinks. What chance does he have against him? His voice trembles as he raises his hands and wrings them uselessly. “I don’t—can I draw—?”

Lan Wu wordlessly hands him the paper and ink that he had harassed Lan Wangji for earlier in the day. As Wei Wuxian settles into the memory of that night, his hands steady. “This line was draining our qi, so I reversed it with this,” the healer’s eyes go wide in alarm. Wei Wuxian pauses but doesn’t stop. “And this one… is for vermillion.’”

Lan Wu is silent for a time. When he speaks, it is slowly and with great care. “I am not an expert on talismans, but when is this one supposed to stop taking?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t care about that at the time—Jiang Cheng was dying, shifu,” Wei Wuxian is desperate to be understood, his chest a gaping wound that he doesn’t know how to breathe around.

“And this ‘vermillion.’ Explain that. It’s the catalyst, is it not?” Lan Wu remains calm and methodical in his questioning, but his gaze on Wei Wuxian is gentle.

He looks down. No one has known these things about him since he was young, and human, and his mother was there to protect him. Even the Wens, for all their designs and suspicions, had never found it. It’s the only thing keeping him safe even now, but what secret has he to keep when its subject is gone? When his meridians are barren and stinging, and there is nothing left to blame? He hopes he’s not making a mistake.

“Zhū as in zhūquè,” he admits. He expects a grand event to follow, shock and accusations, even a death threat or two. He expects anger, but Lan Wu nods like he expected this answer.

“Your mother was Cangse Sanren?” the healer inquires, and it’s like the floor drops out from under Wei Wuxian.

“What?” he breathes.

“I have treated her before. I have kept her secret as I will yours. You may proceed without reservation,” Lan Wu explains.

Wei Wuxian is awash with shock. Lan Wu knew his mother? Lan Wu has treated a zhuque before? He doesn’t think there are any alive who can say the same. He supposes that if there’s anyone who can help, it is Lan Wu.

He knows they’d been after his mother. He knows that it’s the reason they could never stay in one place for very long, why he was hidden away whenever people passed on the road. She always told him he was born to fly free, and he did–for a time. It will probably never happen again–not as long as the Wens continue to covet divinity.

“How? When?” he can’t help but ask.

Lan Wu shakes his head. “It was a brief moment after what I believe was an experience much like you and your brother’s.”

”She was running from the Wens?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wu shakes his head. “That, I do not know. Did she have any other children?”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Then it must have been you—she was with child when she came to me.”

Wei Wuxian nearly chokes.

He looks at Wei Wuxian with an apologetic smile. “She was as bright as you are. That is all I can tell you.”

Wei Wuxian wants to ask more. He turns back to the paper and draws the remaining lines with increasing courage. When he’s done, Lan Wu is stroking his chin in contemplation and humming to himself.

“Based on the state of your meridians, it seems to act as either a curse or a seal—which I suppose would be a seal on top of a seal,” the healer mumbles, mostly to himself. “Maybe it’s both?”

“I can’t even feel the pixiu part of me. I can access it, I can change–I think–but I can’t feel it in me. I just feel empty.” Wei Wuxian can’t bring himself to meet the other’s eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He just can’t get used to the feeling, can’t stop tripping over it like a missed step.

Lan Wu purses his lips. “Both, then. Wei Wuxian, you have cursed yourself,“ he declares. “But it is likely not undoable. I will not ask why you would go to such lengths, but I would advise you to value your own life more.”

Wei Wuxian looks down. He doesn’t say anything.

“Very well.” Lan Wu draws himself up. “I have a few theories to test. Unfortunately, I believe the highest chance of success lies in secluded meditation.”

Wei Wuxian gasps in alarm. “Wait! What are the other options?”

“That will depend on the results of the meditation. We must determine how closely you are linked with the curse to know if the solution lies with you or elsewhere. I think a week should suffice.”

Wei Wuxian hesitates. He can’t bear to be separated from Jiang Cheng, not after what they’ve been through. At the same time, he’s not sure how much longer he can withstand this gnawing hunger within him. He feels like he’s going insane, like he’s on the verge of qi deviation more often than not. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that the swirling blackness quiets when Lan Wangji is near. Something about the man calms him, makes him want to burrow close for warmth–he must be very warm, Wei Wuxian’s mind supplies helpfully.

“A week, though! How will I survive? I can’t practice inedia right now!” he complains.

“I will bring you food,” Lan Wu says, exasperated. Fondly exasperated, Wei Wuxian hopes.

“Fine.”

The healer is surprised. Wei Wuxian doesn’t blame him–he’s surprised, too.

–

It’s hard to focus. He hasn’t been alone in a long time, and he finds himself speaking to the empty cavern in lieu of a person. He tells the wall about Lotus Pier. He tells it about the lotus ponds, and he doesn’t talk about the Wens. He talks about Lan Wangji, the icy Second Lord of Lan. He tells the air that Lan Wangji is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, that he wants to hold his hand again. He doesn’t dare speak any more than that–to do so would sully Hanguang-jun’s honor. He resolves to hold his hand again the next time they see each other, even if he has to request the man personally. Who else could he exchange qi with? At this thought, Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

Time passes intermittently; sometimes he’s aware of it, and most of the time he’s not. Lan Wu had placed warming talismans in a circle around him to defend him against the bitterly cold cavern. The shape of them is an imitation of part of the talisman he’d drawn for Lan Wu, and he rearranges them every time they catch his eye when he’s bored.

He misses Jiang Yanli. He misses his family, and all the Jiang disciples, and the aunties that always feed him, and when he realizes that most of them are dead and gone he lowers his head and he lets himself cry.  

—

When Wei Wuxian leaves his cozy little cave (the cave was not cozy) a week later, Lan Wu takes his wrist and looks at him pityingly. “I have more theories to test,” he assures him.

Wei Wuxian’s face falls, but he’d known it was a long shot anyway. All he wants now is to see his brother–and Lan Wangji–and he will suffer this piercing pain as long as he needs to. He will be fine. He’ll be okay.

“I believe musical cultivation is the next best option to heal your meridians.”

He was already going to agree, but the next words make him almost giddy. “Hanguang-jun is the finest of the craft. I am sure he will not mind,” the healer tells him with a strange look on his face.

When they arrive at the healer’s pavilion, Wei Wuxian is delighted to see that his two favorite people are there to greet him–oh, and Lan Xichen is here too. Jiang Cheng shoots toward him for a crushing hug, and in the midst of it he catches Lan Wangji’s eyes–they are warm and inviting, and the sight makes his heart flutter. He thinks he will enjoy the coming treatment much more than he did the cave.

Chapter Text

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian wheezes when his brother finally releases him. He closes the distance to Lan Wangji in a few strides and stops with a grin, hands clasped behind his back. “Did you miss me?” he asks teasingly.

It’s been a week since he last saw Lan Wangji. He’d sort of expected his newfound feelings to fade in that time–the budding warmth tucked into his chest must surely be a consequence of his lengthy period of imprisonment and isolation, right? He’s probably still in shock over the experience and the fact that he’s free from it, judging by his apparent inability to trust his surroundings every morning when he wakes up. He can’t be trusted to form meaningful or well-adjusted relationships in his state!

And yet.

Without his permission, the warmth within him continues to grow. It throbs as he gazes at Lan Wangji in his customary funeral whites. He’s been fighting thoughts of him all week, unable to stop imagining the way the sun’s rays are reflected in his light eyes, the glint of amber with the depth of the sea. The elegant drape of his wrist. The way he looks at Wei Wuxian. Of course he’d missed Lan Wangji—surely anyone who’s ever seen him has missed him since.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen in surprise when Lan Wangji answers with an affirmative “Mn.”

He must have misheard. Lan Wangji missed him? But the man doesn’t lie—it’s against the rules, and he takes them very seriously—so he must have at least thought of Wei Wuxian while he was gone, even if Lan Wangji is just saving him some face by saying so. But no, he thinks, Lan Wangji doesn’t care to flatter either. As soon as the thought surfaces, the terrible thing in his chest blooms anew. He mentally sighs in resignation. The great Hanguang-jun will be his downfall, it seems. Time to throw caution to the wind.

“I missed you too,” he says secretively, dropping his voice to a near whisper and playing it off as coy instead of nervous.

”Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Wanyin’s voice suddenly calls, startling him enough that he jolts and almost trips over his feet. Lan Wangji raises his hands in an aborted attempt to catch him, but Wei Wuxian recovers before they can make contact. The moment is a blink in time, but it feels like it stretches forever. Wei Wuxian kicks himself. He should have just let himself fall! Lan Wangji could have been cradling him gently by now, he thinks mournfully, before turning back to his brother.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, of course I missed you! My dear shidi,” Wei Wuxian says indulgently, leaving Lan Wangji to force another hug onto a resistant Jiang Cheng. It quickly turns into a tussle from which Wei Wuxian (unsurprisingly, he’d say) emerges victorious.

Lan Xichen, who has been watching them bemusedly and patiently waiting for a pause, steps in as Jiang Cheng grumpily dusts himself off. “I trust that the week in seclusion has aided your recovery?”

Wei Wuxian freezes, smile now pasted on, but Lan Wu steps in before he has to respond. “Indeed, though there is yet damage that we are investigating.”

Jiang Cheng’s brows furrow. “Why is he so much worse than me?” he demands, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s squawk of protest.

“I believe his complete qi drainage and subsequent fall have rendered his condition more severe.” Lan Wu answers smoothly. Jiang Cheng’s expression does not ease, but he nods shortly. Wei Wuxian breathes an inward sigh of relief. Lan Wu wasn’t lying when he said he’d keep Wei Wuxian’s secret.

The healer continues, advancing the conversation into safer territory. “My recommendation is musical cultivation. Hanguang-jun, I would like to request your assistance on this matter.”

It’s Lan Wangji’s turn to freeze, and Wei Wuxian feels panic for the first time that week. Does he not want to? Wei Wuxian suddenly wishes he could read minds. Cold dread begins to trickle in. He’d been so excited for the chance to spend more time with Lan Wangji—but it was silly of him to think that such a high-ranking cultivator would have either the desire or the capacity to continue entertaining him. Should he laugh it off and ask for someone else? He’d rather die, he thinks hysterically.

Lan Wangji finally puts him out of his misery. “I would be honored to be of service to Wei Ying,” he says firmly. Wei Wuxian feels his heart unclench. He swears he sees a flush dusting the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears, and he desperately hopes his own blush isn’t too obvious. Surely not as obvious as the eye roll Jiang Jiang Cheng gives them both.

“Very good. You may begin tomorrow with Clarity, and then continue as you see fit,” Lan Wu instructs.

Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Wuxian clasps his hands in a teasing salute. “Please take care of me, then,” he simpers.

Lan Wangji’s expression doesn’t change, but his lips twitch. Wei Wuxian expects the customary “ridiculous” in response, so he nearly chokes when the man responds with an affirmative “Mn.”

Is that allowed? Isn’t there a rule about this? Wei Wuxian’s blush deepens.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes must be in danger of rolling out of his head at this point. “Wei Wuxian, stop messing around and come eat. I could blow you away with a breath.”

Wei Wuxian glares at him, successfully redirected. “A strong wind, at least,” he argues, and his brother huffs a surprised laugh.

“Sure,” he concedes, and turns around with a wave. “Let’s go.”

—

This time, Wei Wuxian is led to the disciples’ mess hall. The Lords of Lan do not join them—“I guess they’re too busy for us right now,” Jiang Cheng mutters mullishly, only half-joking—so they eat at a large table surrounded by Lan disciples. The juniors look on in thinly-veiled curiosity as he and his brother are given bowls containing meat. Those who are not yet privy to Wei Wuxian and his brother’s identities can be easily identified by the open-mouthed shock on their faces. Wei Wuxian is highly amused—he did not expect that they would be allowed to eat their modified meals in front of the impressionable scions of Lan! He’s allowed to enjoy it.

At some point, a slew of older disciples sidle closer until they’re all within hearing range. Wei Wuxian knows when this happens because they all make eye contact together—two of them nod—and turn to him as one. Then, they start asking the questions Wei Wuxian swears he could see brewing in their little heads.

“Why are you eating meat—” begins the boy who is apparently the boldest of the bunch of Lans, only to hiss in pain when his friend elbows him in the side.

“Sorry, Wei-qianbei!” the respectful disciple rushes to apologize, and Wei Wuxian recognizes him as the leader of the ducklings from that day in his self-made crater. “It is not our place.”

Jiang Cheng just laughs and says bluntly,  “We’re pixiu. We eat meat, unlike you weirdos.”

“Pixiu!” they exclaim. Whispers begin to percolate, and Wei Wuxian suspects the knowledge will be widespread within the day. He soothes himself by remembering that the Lan Clan of Gusu is the safest place they could be. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he refocuses on the gaggle of disciples.

“What are you doing here?” the first boy asks despite his friend’s disapproving glare. “And why is yours so red?”

“Because I have taste!” Wei Wuxian says, at the same time that Jiang Cheng says “because he has no tastebuds,” and the kid lets out a shocked laugh before immediately covering his mouth with a panicked hand. Wei Wuxian grins, sensing weakness. He leans over the table as far as Lan propriety can possibly allow. “Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, at your service,” he announces, gesturing to himself and Jiang Cheng in turn. “And you are?”

The disciples freeze in eerie solidarity, waiting for someone to speak first. Naturally, it’s the most un-Lan one who does so. “I’m Lan Jingyi,” he says, not as casual as he’s probably going for judging by the full-body flinch he gives when Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “Can I try some?” he still has the nerve to ask, only to be smacked even harder.

“Absolutely not,” the other boy whispers harshly before turning back to the pixiu. “This one is Lan Sizhui, head disciple. I apologize for Jingyi’s behavior,” he says with a bow of his head.

Wei Wuxian actually feels kind of bad now. “No apologies needed! Kids should be curious,” he replies easily.

“I was way ruder at your age–you’ve got room to grow,” affirms Jiang Cheng, prompting a laugh and a playful punch on the arm from Wei Wuxian.

“It’s true! He’s got no tact,” Wei Wuxian chimes in, seamlessly brushing off the decidedly not playful punch Jiang Cheng sends back.

They talk about the juniors’ studies and recent night hunts, highlights of the nearby towns. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are fascinated by the flawlessly organized quality to everything the Lan sect does. Even stories of their night hunts speak to an otherworldly meticulousness. He takes another chance to express gratitude to the gods that he was not born a Lan.

The conversation winds down after a while and the crowd files away, but Sizhui and Jingyi remain seated nervously. “Wei-qianbei…” Sizhui begins and trails off.

Wei Wuxian leans forward in interest. “Yes, what is it?”

“With Hanguang-jun,” Sizhui continues hesitantly. “You should know that he’s very…straightforward.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile hangs in confusion, not sure where this could be going. Lan Wangji, straightforward? That much, he knows very well. “Yeah?”

Sizhui’s brows draw together while he wrestles with his words, and Jingyi evidently loses his patience. “We just want to know your intentions, Wei-qianbei,” he says bluntly. “If you’re not completely clear with our Hanguang-jun, you could hurt him–and we don’t want that.” He smiles in a way he probably thinks is threatening.

Wei Wuxian is frozen in shock. He’s really getting a shovel talk from some teenagers? He’s barely even held the man’s hand! They’ll be practicing musical cultivation, not dual cultivation! What is going on in their heads, he wonders dazedly.

“I will heed your words and take utmost care,” he concedes graciously before turning and pointing at Jiang Cheng. “What about him, though, huh?” he demands. “Don’t you know he has designs on your sect leader?”

It’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to elbow him in the ribs, but he’s more vicious with it than Sizhui—Wei Wuxian windmills back theatrically. This has been a lot of violence for one meal!

“Shut your damn mouth before I beat your ass,” his brother hisses, but it’s too late.

Sizhui and Jingyi wear twin expressions of alarm. “Zewu-jun?” Sizhui gasps.

“As if we have any other sect leaders!” Jingyi cries. “Jiang-qianbei, please! He’s been through enough!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Wei Wuxian, sensing his work is done, stands swiftly. “Well! I have a thing. It’s been lovely, kids,” he waves before tactfully retreating, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s protests and the petulant “we’re not kids!” from Jingyi. He notes that despite his complaints, Jiang Cheng does not get up from the table to follow him. Wei Wuxian doesn’t need to know anything about Lan Xichen’s history, though, thanks. And he is eager to begin his meditation with Lan Wangji. Maybe he can convince the man to play music together with him for fun. 

–

Lan Wangji comes to him after the meal like he’d been waiting for him, and the thought sends a warm tendril through his chest. “Lan Zhan!” he greets cheerfully. “Are you ready to serenade me?”

It’s small, but it’s a soft huff of sound and a slight curve upward at the corners of his lips. “A laugh?” Wei Wuxian says almost to himself, and then repeats it louder. “Was that a laugh, Lan Wangji?” he asks teasingly, trying to keep the awe from showing in his voice and eyes.

“Impossible,” Lan Wangji denies, though that barely-there smile still graces his fine features. Wei Wuxian has to tear his eyes away from his lips, scrambling to pretend like he’s not completely off his axis. He laughs and laughs, unable to stop repeating that small exhalation in his head with I made him laugh in an endless loop.

“Before we begin, I have something to show you,” Lan Wangji tells him.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, anticipatory. “Me? By all means,” he says excitedly. Lan Wangji nods simply and turns, gesturing for Wei Wuxian to walk beside him.

He guides Wei Wuxian down an unfamiliar path, and he really tries to be patient! Still, curiosity gets the best of him before long. “Where are we going?” he asks quizzically.

Lan Wangji does not answer beyond a noncommittal hum, so Wei Wuxian presses. “It’s really a surprise? Is it a secret?”

“It is no secret. Just something I want to show you,” Lan Wangji explains—incredibly cryptically, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion.

“Okay,” he urges, drawing out the end of the word. “Well, what is it?”

Lan Wangji’s lips twitch—a phenomenon that is now growing more frequent, Wei Wuxian thinks to himself giddily. “You will see,” is the only response.

Wei Wuxian pouts but nods in acceptance. “Fine, fine! You win,” he yields.

He fills the walk with chatter about his week in seclusion, his conversations with the juniors, and his attempts to convince Jiang Cheng that there’s a rule prohibiting fist-fighting one’s brother. This one gets a disapproving eyebrow in response, and he grins unrepentantly. Figuring he’s loosened him up enough, he’s about to start peppering Lan Wangji with questions of his own when the path opens to a foliage-lined archway, beyond which is a large clearing containing… a lotus pond.

“What?” he breathes. The air is warm, much warmer than is normal for the Cloud Recesses this time of year. An array for growing plants? The back of Wei Wuxian’s mind is whirring with the possibilities and implications, but the rest of it is blank with astonishment. “How is that—?” he cuts himself off, glancing between the scene and the man responsible for it in wide-eyed fascination.

Lan Wangji looks away, something nervous in the line of his shoulders. When he looks back at Wei Wuxian, his eyes are as striking as ever. “Do you like it?”

Wei Wuxian is floored. “Like it?” he demands. “Of course I do! How did you do this? How is it possible to grow lotuses in the Cloud Recesses in a week?”

“Your brother helped me find them. The heating array is a Lan technique. I will show it to you, if you like,” Lan Wangji replies, voice level even as the corner of his lips curves upward. The worry in his eyes is gone, and in its place is an undeniable smugness.

“This is incredible. You’re incredible,” Wei Wuxian declares, buzzing with disbelief. Lan Wangji had done this for him? Lan Wangji had thought of him in the week he’d been gone, and to this extent? Whatever had been growing in Wei Wuxian’s chest has spread roots that now squeeze his lungs. Lan Wangji, this impossible, beautiful man who has probably been shirking his duties—first to hang out with him while he was bedridden, and then to build a lotus pond, of all things—and who looks at Wei Wuxian like he’s the only one in the vicinity, like he’s important, has built a lotus pond for him in a place far from his home, where it should not thrive as it does. Wei Wuxian feels a faint warmth and wetness behind his eyelids and blinks to clear it. “Lan Zhan,” he says pathetically.

“Wei Ying deserves incredible things,” Lan Wangji replies simply.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian admonishes. “Don’t say things like that! I’ll get spoiled.” I’ll want more, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t point out that by Lan Wangji’s logic, Wei Wuxian deserves him.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji hums, and he’s not sure whether it’s a mere acknowledgment or an affirmation. A hot blush rises to his cheeks, and he swears by the curve of Lan Wangji’s lips that he notices it, too. The soft smile is too enchanting for Wei Wuxian to be as embarrassed as he should be.  

He persuades Lan Wangji to sit in the grass with him, and then he persuades him to pick a single lotus pod and try the seeds. They’re not quite ripe, but he’s delighted when Lan Wangji admits to liking them. They don’t dare take any more from the pond, appreciating the flowers and waxing poetic. They sit for a while after that, Wei Wuxian enjoying the scenery and the simple pleasure of Lan Wangji’s company. In this place, there is none of the fear that Wei Wuxian has lived with for so long. Lan Wangji—not just Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji—makes him feel safer than he has since he was a child, naively believing his mother would always be there to protect him. Between the cultivator next to him and the blooming lotus flowers in front of him, Wei Wuxian feels so peaceful he really could cry. He’s half-convinced he’s dreaming, but his sorry self could never dream up such a scene.

Lan Wangji suddenly starts and looks up at the sky. After a moment, he turns to Wei Wuxian. “Would you like to go to Caiyi town?” he asks.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, and he can’t keep the smile off his face. There’s no way he could be reading this wrong, right? “So much excitement in one day!” he marvels. “What did I do to deserve such treatment?” he asks jokingly. He isn’t really expecting an answer, so he’s even less prepared for what Lan Wangji says next.

“I enjoy spending time with Wei Ying,” the man confesses, as if that’s an acceptable thing to say to Wei Wuxian, who is presently remembering how to breathe.

“That sounds kind of like a date,” he tries not to wheeze, his insides doing their best impression of a forest fire, or something equally destructive. Why did he say that?

Lan Wangji again looks away and back at him in a deadly one-two punch before he delivers the final blow. “If Wei Ying is willing.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart is thudding almost painfully in his chest. A date! Lan Wangji is asking him to go on a date! He wasn’t wrong about the signs—that piercing gaze, the soft smiles, the easy indulgence that Lan Wangji grants him. He feels incandescent. A date, he repeats in his head. “I’d like that,” he agrees, shy despite himself.

Lan Wangji swallows hard, and Wei Wuxian smiles gleefully. He could get used to this.

Lan Wangji abruptly moves to stand, extending a hand to help Wei Wuxian up. “Let us go,” he says, prompting another laugh. When they’re both on their feet, there is a moment of hesitation where neither of them is willing to let go of the other’s hand. Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji’s eyes and tightens his grip, smile turning soft and tentative.

“Let’s go,” he repeats, and they leave the clearing hand-in-hand.

—

Caiyi is large and bustling. Its liveliness and bright colors remind Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng. It’s so unlike the funeral whites of the Lan sect that he can’t help glancing between his surroundings and the man beside him. Lan Wangji stands out like a god among men, gazing imperiously at the masses.

“Lead the way,” says the god among men.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Me? Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around?”

Lan Wangji is undeterred. “Mn,” he confirms. “I am showing you the shopping center. Next we will visit the food stalls. Unless you are hungry now?”

Wei Wuxian marvels at how easy it is to laugh around Lan Wangji. It’s simple, the cadence of their conversations. It’s a strange mix of ease and excitement, and he finds himself chasing the feeling unabashedly by sticking to Lan Wangji’s side and pointing at things just to hear him say things like “Do you want this?” and “Pick anything you like” again—because they’re on a date and he’s allowed to do that.

(The first time it happens, Wei Wuxian misses a step and thwacks Lan Wangji on the arm trying to regain his balance. After a moment to—again—regret not falling into Lan Wangji’s arms, he manages to close his mouth and respond with a shaky, “Uh, I’m good, actually.” He’s always been very adaptable, though.)

Wei Wuxian is flitting between this stall and that, chatting with shopkeepers and proceeding to walk away empty-handed despite their best efforts. It’s not like he needs anything, the Lan’s stores being more than sufficient for anything he might need. He is casually ambivalent towards all the shop offerings until something finally catches his eye—a person selling hair ribbons.

While his own ribbon has maintained its color and placement talismans, its ends are fraying and its spiritual power is depleted—Wen Chao made sure of that when he burned out the protection array. Wei Wuxian never stopped wearing it, but it’s felt tainted ever since. Seeing similar ribbons here on a first (hopefully of many?) date with Lan Wangji feels too fortuitous to pass up.

He deflates when he sees no red, and the stall owner shakes their head regretfully when asked. “What’s wrong?” Lan Wangji asks him

“Ah, I could use a new one,” Wei Wuxian answers sheepishly, knowing it must be embarrassingly obvious that the ribbon is the only thing he’s truly wanted all day. “But I’d want a red one.”

“I can make one! Specially prepared for the young master!” The shopkeeper insists.

“That’s alright, I’ll keep looking! Thank you anyways,” Wei Wuxian cheerfully evades and takes Lan Wangji’s hand in a feat of bravery to walk away. The man resists at first, but he acquiesces when Wei Wuxian looks back with a pout. “Come on, Lan Zhan, I’m hungry now,” he urges.

They walk a few paces when Wei Wuxian realizes he’s still gripping Lan Wangji’s hand. He releases him hastily and rushes to apologize. “Sorry, I—” Lan Wangji snatches his hand again before he can finish, and he laughs a little incredulously at the quickness of the motion. Lan Wangji wants to hold his hand. “It’s really okay?”

“Mn,” is the reply. Lan Wangji holds his gaze as he falls into step and urges him forward.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, and they walk like that for the rest of the evening, stealing glances and brushing together with every step. Wei Wuxian is full of snacks and a pleasant buzz not unlike being drunk. He can’t help leaning closer and closer, until they find themselves face-to-face in a quiet alley.

He’d dragged Lan Wangji onto the empty side street as a joke, and then he took a step closer and suddenly it wasn’t a joke anymore. Lan Wangji has him frozen in place, unable to look away. His eyes feel more intense than ever before, unflinching and searching his face. Wei Wuxian wants so badly to kiss him.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says in a whisper. It draws him in like he’s magnetized, and before he lets himself think any harder about it, he tilts his head and closes the distance.

Wei Wuxian knows, logically, that nothing happens to the world outside when they kiss. He also knows with the first brush that the simple contact makes his very soul tremble with its sweetness. Maybe that’s overdramatic, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t have the presence of mind to care too much. Lan Wangji is kissing him back, he thinks dazedly. They’re on a date, and they’re kissing. Wei Wuxian again fears he’s dreaming.

Lan Wangji smells like sandalwood and linen, and he’s oh so warm. Wei Wuxian rests his hands lightly on his chest and feels strong hands settle over his waist in response. Emboldened, he parts his lips a fraction, pressing more firmly. Lan Wangji immediately flicks his tongue against him and he inhales sharply, trying uselessly to get closer, closer.

When they pull apart, Lan Wangji’s blush is the brightest he’s ever seen, spilling past his ears and flooding his cheeks with color. He’s stunning. Wei Wuxian likes him so much, he’s overflowing with it.  “Lan Zhan,” he breathes in awe.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji returns, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever seen him. “Was that..?” he stops himself, conflicted.

Wei Wuxian is reminded of Lan Jingyi’s words from before. Be direct, he tells himself. Or you could hurt him, Jingyi’s voice answers.

“Lan Zhan,” he says abruptly, face flaming. “I really like you.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes go wide in the strongest expression of surprise he’s ever seen on him. This Lan Wangji, the one he’s seen today, is devastatingly expressive. His heart clenches.

“I like you so much, and I want to spend more time with you, and now I want to kiss you all the time, too!” he finishes in a rush.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chokes out. This time, Wei Wuxian finds his patience and waits him out. He can’t rush this, can’t overwhelm him. Notwithstanding the fact that Lan Wangji is taller and broader than him, he looks inexplicably small and fragile right now.

Wei Wuxian can’t help it; he leans in to steal another kiss from Lan Wangji’s shocked mouth. To this, he responds eagerly. He brings his hands up to rest on either side of Wei Wuxian’s face, and his heart melts. He pushes down the anxiety crawling in his throat. Lan Wangji is too good, too honest, to kiss someone he doesn’t like. Still the fear makes him tremble, and Lan Wangji pulls back to make eye contact.

“Wei Ying, I like you too,” he promises.

Wei Wuxian relaxes, a smile overtaking his features. “Yeah?” he breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, and then he graces Wei Wuxian with the widest smile he’s ever seen from the stoic cultivator.

“Lan Zhan! You’re smiling!” he exclaims. “For little old me?” he teases.

“Mn. For you,” Lan Wangji responds steadily, and Wei Wuxian blushes.

“Hey, seriously, if you keep talking like that I’ll start getting ideas!” he warns.

Lan Wangji’s smile widens further, and suddenly he wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. Will his heart survive dating—dating, he sighs dreamily—Lan Wangji? He feels like he might physically melt from fondness.

“Lan Zhan, it’s the smile, too! I can’t take it,” he complains. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, you know?” he confesses, unable to control his mouth now that he knows that Lan Wangji likes him back.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widen, and he matches Wei Wuxian’s blush and looks away. “… Wei Ying, too,” he says.

Wei Wuxian laughs delightedly. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks coyly, batting his eyes.

“Without equal,” is the firm reply.

“Lan Zhan!” he admonishes. “What did I just say?”

“That you would get ‘ideas,’” Lan Wangji says. “I do not see a problem.”

Wei Wuxian groans and elects to kiss him again. It’s just starting to get heated when Lan Wangji breaks the kiss and looks up. “It is almost curfew. We should go.”

Wei Wuxian whines. “What, really? I want to kiss you more, I’m finally allowed to!”

Lan Wangji is silent for a time. Then, hesitantly: “You could come with me to the jingshi,” he suggests.

Wei Wuxian chokes. Is he really—? “Yes. Lan Zhan, yes,” he enthuses, garnering a quiet laugh. He looks at Lan Wangji in awe. “I like you so much,” he can’t help saying again.

Lan Wangji smiles again. “Let’s go.”

And they go, hand in hand.