Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji glides high over the Arctic landscape. It’s silent — despite what Emperor Jin likes to say, he has no dominion here. Humans are funny in that way, claiming land and ownership that they cannot truly hold. There are few humans here. Hunters, of course. Scientists in some of their Important Buildings, isolated places that they rarely get to leave. Those who truly, truly live here, the few humans that Lan Wangji consistently speaks with and sees, are bundled up in their furs and always with a smile for the witch.

She requires no such furs. It’s cold, of course — how could it not be? She is aware of it, but it does not bother her, cold whipping her robes, sending her hair blowing as she flies, and it is a comforting, familiar sensation.

Bichen flies ahead. Something has been… calling. A witch listens to nature, and listens well. She listens to the wind, to the lightly fallen snow, to the glitter of icicles as sunlight falls upon them, and hears what humans do not. All of them are insistent. Lan Wangji belongs here.

She doesn’t know why, but she does know that.

So she sends the other half of her soul out to search, and feels that thrum of connection between them, like fingers drawn over a zither. He’s found something. It’s easy to change course quickly, and Lan Wangji does, following the connection like it’s the North Star until she reaches him, beating in the air.

“Why do they have no dogs?” asks Bichen, and Lan Wangji glances at him and then looks down to see what he sees.

A lone human, determinedly pulling a sled all by themself. The usual escort of dogs isn’t there, nor anyone else, just… a human, pulling their sled. It’s an odd sight. Lan Wangji watches them for a moment more, seeing their snowshoes plod slowly across the ground, the way their body braces against the wind, before she swoops down to see them. 

The human doesn’t see her at first — their eyes tend to be poorer than a witch’s, she thinks — and she glides silently along, moving slowly on her broom, so slow it feels like a crawl. The human’s daemon, a raven tucked into their coat, pokes their head out and spots Lan Wangji first. The human instantly whips their head around to lock eyes and grins brightly, cheeks rosy with cold. “A witch!” They crow. “A beautiful witch, dropped from the heavens, here to see me!”

What?

Bichen, circling above, sends a hum of agreement, and that does not help the flush on Lan Wangji’s cheeks. “Do you- always greet strangers in such a way?” she asks, trying desperately to grasp her dignity with two hands. It is difficult. No one has ever spoken to her in such a way.

The human just seems to shine even more. “I do when they’re a beautiful witch! I’ve truly never seen such a lovely sight in my life.”

Lan Wangji loses her battle with dignity. “Shameless,” she hisses, and the human just laughs.

“What?” They ask. “Are you going to claim that you’re not beautiful? Oh, oh, or are you not a witch? That’s more believable between the two. I didn’t know polar bears could fly and so gracefully.”

She takes off. She cannot, cannot endure a second more of this, and she shoots towards the sky as the human below cackles. The human’s laughter rings in her ears as she flies swiftly, as fast as she can, the wind dragging at her skin. Bichen doesn’t follow — or, well, he doesn’t follow her.

He stays with the human, and Lan Wangji wants to call him to her, wants his presence, and yet if he’s there, he can’t just feel the embarrassment that rings through her, but see it, too. Lan Wangji wishes she were human, to blame her red ears on the cold, but she cannot even do that. Bichen follows the human, and she tries to pretend that she doesn’t want that, that a simple exchange of hardly anything had caused her such… such…

Ten words. That is all she had spoken, and yet, and yet-

Beautiful. Lovely. Graceful.

Utterly, utterly shameless. Why had nature been singing for her to go there?

Sister is amused.

Lan Wangji can tell, even without looking at her, that Lan Xichen is deeply, deeply amused. There wasn’t any reason to hide like this, to busy herself in books and any tasks that others offered up, even the simplest of errands, and yet…

“She seems nice,” says Xichen, and Lan Wangji freezes where she is washing the dishes. She had been grateful for the customary silence at meals, but now there is nothing stopping her sister. Lan Wangji does not respond and washes a little louder. “She asked about you, you know.”

Lan Wangji can’t help how she stills at that, how she falters, and it’s so obvious that she can feel Xichen’s smile growing without even looking. She scrubs faster.

“I saw her today,” says Xichen, “And she wanted me to pass on an apology to you.”

This is what finally makes Lan Wangji stop and look at her sister. It’s an acceptable reason. Xichen is smiling widely. “She also gave me this.” Xichen holds out a paper with the blank side up, forcing Lan Wangji to set aside the dishes and dry her hands to take it.

She turns it over, and it’s her.

It’s an absolutely lovely sketch (and that word still makes her burn ) of her on her broom, with a vague sketchy outline of a bird near her shoulder. The human hadn’t spotted Bichen, but knew enough to know that all witches had bird daemons. “Her name is Wei Wuxian,” says Xichen. “And she’s sincere.”

“Very well.” Lan Wangji is stiff and ungracious, yet she carefully folds up the paper and slips it into her pocket. She turns to finish the dishes, but Xichen gently pushes her away.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll finish them.”

And Lan Wangji goes.

The wind tugs her, beseeches her, guides her, and with a thread of amusement, Bichen joins her in the air as well. (Sometimes her daemon reminds her too much of her sister, and Lan Wangji isn’t sure what to think about that. They clearly spend too much time together.)

She’s not certain what she expects when she comes upon Wei Wuxian’s site, but it’s not this. Two battered tents, made for the cold Arctic but not for too long-term, were carefully set up. If it were just one, she’d think Wei Wuxian was still traveling, forced to take it slow by whatever compels her to not use dogs, but two…? She touches down, and Bichen lands beside her. “Wei Wuxian,” she says. There’s no answer. She glances from tent to tent. “Wei-“

“You came!”

Lan Wangji turns, and there is the human. Wei Wuxian is grinning broadly, holding a fishing pole and a few fish, having clearly returned from ice fishing. “My lovely witch has returned!”

Unacceptable. Lan Wangji frowns slightly, trying to ignore the way she feels warm, and even more trying to ignore how Wei Wuxian’s daemon has slipped free from her coat to flit around Bichen. “Do not call me that,” she says sternly.

“Then what should I call you?” Wei Wuxian asks, and that calms Lan Wangji a little. Alright. She assumed Xichen shared her name, but-

Does that mean Wei Wuxian called Lan Wangji her ‘lovely witch’ to Xichen’s face? No wonder her sister was so amused. 

“Lan Wangji,” she says easily.

“Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian repeats, and she rocks back excitedly, though doesn’t really move because of her snowshoes. Isn’t the human cold out here? “Aren’t we close enough for personal names? You can call me Wei Ying~.”

Anger and indignation sweep through her. Sincere? Sincere? This is what her sister called sincere? Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen, and Lan Wangji turns on her heel and is about to take off et. when Wei Wuxian snags her sleeve. “I’m sorry!”

Lan Wangji stops. She looks at Wei Wuxian. Her eyes… they do seem sincere, as her gloved hand curls in her sleeve. Bichen has Wei Wuxian’s daemon cowed, the raven bowing his head before the crane, but this doesn’t seem like the human accepting that her daemon lost, and thus following the natural order of things. “I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says again. “I forgot that witches keep their names quiet. Don’t leave, Lan Wangji.”

Forcibly, she makes herself relax. She thinks of the drawing in her pocket. “…Explain why you are here,” she says, and Wei Wuxian blinks twice. “If you don’t wish me to leave, explain why you are here.”

Wei Wuxian beams as though that’s the best question Lan Wangji could have ever asked. She doesn’t let go of the sleeve. “I’m doing research!” she exclaims, and she pulls Lan Wangji into one of the tents.

The tent is warm — it’s the first thing Lan Wangji notices. Wei Wuxian must have added extra insulation, and there’s a low fire burning on the table in the room. She goes to feed the fire, and Lan Wangji takes a glance around. Instruments. Scientific instruments, ones that she’s never seen before and would have no way of understanding, were scattered all over the table. Notes are all over as well, filled with symbols that she doesn’t recognize and messy handwriting she could never hope to read.

Wei Wuxian’s daemon is riding on Bichen’s back, following behind them, and Lan Wangji ignores their closeness.

“Why are you out here all alone?” She asks. The scientists and researchers she has encountered have never been on their own. “What are you studying?”

“Aha, I was the only one really interested!” says Wei Wuxian, neatly sidestepping the second question as she fiddles with an instrument, something that sways and has numbers on it.

Lan Wangji accepts that non-answer, but frowns. “Is that why you didn’t get dogs?” she asks. Was she unable to because she was the only one?

A shudder runs through Wei Wuxian. “No,” she says. “Dogs are the worst. I can’t stand them. That’s why I came on my own.” Lan Wangji has not spent what she would call an excessive amount of time with dogs, but she feels that level of hate is probably excessive…?

It doesn’t matter. “This won’t work,” she says.

Wei Wuxian turns to frown at her. “Why not?”

“It will get colder. Your tents will not handle it well. Is your other tent as well insulated as this?” Wei Wuxian’s guilty face says it all. “I do not understand why you dislike dogs so, but they are necessary for transportation.”

Wei Wuxian huffs and blows some hair out of her face as she finally pulls down her hood. “I’m afraid of them, okay? Dogs scare me. I can’t do it. Tents it is.”

You need to build a more concrete shelter, despite that, Lan Wangji thinks, and she opens her mouth to say that. Those are not the words that come out. “I can help you,” she says instead.

The words seem to startle them both an equal amount. “What?” asks Wei Wuxian, not understanding.

Lan Wangji has stated the offer, and thus she has to follow through. “I… am not human,” she says. Falling back on stating the obvious makes her feel better about such unintentional words. “The cold does not affect me, I do not require rest as you do, and I am stronger than you. I can pull building supplies to you.”

What is she offering? What is she saying?

Wei Wuxian lights up. “You would do that for me? That would be soooo helpful! What’s the catch?” Lan Wangji shakes her head slowly. There is no catch. “Really?”

She grins, and her eyes are captivating. “Do you just help every single poor human you run into out here, Lan Wangji? Are you a regular Good Samaritan, huh?”

Not at all. It’s not that Lan Wangji would say she doesn’t help, because she does. She listens to where she is called, and sometimes that means she comes across humans or bears or others who need assistance. Lan Wangji helps them. But… going out of her way like this, for someone she has only just met, someone vibrant and bright with a twinkle in her eye…

She has no proper reply, and Wei Wuxian seems to realize that. She presses a little closer. “Or am I just special?”

Lan Wangji has reached her limit. She takes a step back, free hand curling into a fist and uncurling at her side, and Wei Wuxian looks a little alarmed and takes her own step back. Opens her mouth, likely to placate Lan Wangji or say something so she doesn’t run off, and Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

“I will be back,” she says stiffly, wanting Wei Wuxian to know that while it is too much, it is not the same kind of escape as before, “I will return in a few days at most with your supplies.”

The expression on Wei Wuxian’s face softens into a smile. “Thank you, Lan Wangji. Guess I’ll owe a pretty witch a favor, then?”

She nods jerkily, feeling like she’s burning , and then turns to leave the warm tent, truly unable to bear anymore of this. Bichen, the traitor, stays behind with the other bird daemon.

Xichen doesn’t laugh at her, but only barely, when she finds out what Lan Wangji has promised. Being laughed at by her sister is not mocking, soft and gentle, and fond, but she still doesn’t enjoy it, and her glares at Xichen’s amusement make the other witch swallow her laughter.

“I’ll help arrange things for you,” says Xichen instead, and she does.

Lan Wangji has never been good at talking to people, let alone humans, so it’s a relief to have Xichen take care of it, and then all Lan Wangji has to do is go to the closest human settlement to begin dragging her sled piled with supplies out to Wei Wuxian. If anyone thinks the sight of a witch dragging such is a comical (she feels like it is), fortunately, no one is brave enough to say so or laugh.

They then encounter their next issue, after Wei Wuxian finishes happily going through all the building supplies and tools that Lan Wangji has purchased: neither of them knows how to build things. “I do,” says Wei Wuxian, “But creating instruments and building a hut are completely different.”

“Do humans not have people who specialize in such?” Lan Wangji asks. “Can we not hire one?” Or, rather, can Wei Wuxian not hire one, because Lan Wangji has no need of money.

Wei Wuxian looks at her skeptically. “They’ll come out here on a normal sled, right? With dogs?” Lan Wangji does not reply. “Are you willing to give one a ride?”

Absolutely not. “We will try ourselves,” she says instead, and Wei Wuxian snorts.

They do try themselves. It… well, they manage to make a semblance of a building, the bare minimum that a structure like this requires to be called such. It’s a slightly crooked wooden building that can barely fit a sleeping bag, and while it’s warmer than Wei Wuxian’s sleeping tent, it’s not as well-insulated as her tent for the instruments. (Building this also caused injuries, and Lan Wangji learned that missing with a hammer and hitting a finger hurts. Enough said on that.)

“It’s charming,” says Wei Wuxian, grinning brightly.

“It will only last one season, if that,” Lan Wangji says dubiously.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Then we’ll just have to build another one when I come back out!”

That makes her frown. “You will not… stay?”

“Mm, I’m going back and forth,” Wei Wuxian says easily. They leave the ramshackle hut behind and go to the instrument tent, where she can work the magic that is utterly beyond Lan Wangji, who would understand more if it were actually magic. “I need to report my findings, write papers, and other stupid paperwork stuff, and people would miss me too much if I stayed out here.”

“Who would miss you?” Lan Wangji asks, and only realizes how rude that sounds when Wei Wuxian bursts into helpless laughter, having to brace herself on the table as she doubles over. “I did not mean it like that!”

Wei Wuxian waves her off, breathless, but it takes her a little bit to recover. She straightens up, grinning and a little out of breath. “So mean!” she exclaims. “I have friends who would miss me! And family! A cute, angry little brother, the sweetest, kindest older sister you’ll ever meet, and my uncle, who’s nice but a little, erm… Still getting used to the whole thing about me being a woman.” She laughs again, though this feels more forced, and she has an intent gaze on Lan Wangji as if gauging her reaction.

Lan Wangji isn’t sure what reaction she’s looking for. “Your sister sounds similar to mine,” she says. “They should meet.”

That seems to catch Wei Wuxian off guard. “You have a sister?”

Of course, Xichen did not explain anything. “Lan Xichen is my older sister.”

Wei Wuxian nods slowly. “I can see it. Sorry, just feels like witches just.. sprang fully formed from the earth.”

Lan Wangji frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re right, sorry, you would have flown fully-formed down from the heavens.”

The mock-battle between Bichen and Suibian ends in a draw, so Lan Wangji has no recourse here, and Wei Wuxian keeps grinning. Lan Wangji looks away. She casts out for something. “…What are you working on?” she asks, an abrupt subject change.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t answered before, when asked, but this time she takes it in stride and hums a little. “It’s a little… complicated to explain,” she says, slowly. “Everything on earth can be broken down smaller and smaller until it’s one of three base particles. This has been known and accepted for years. But I think there’s a fourth particle.”

She’s excited, gleaming and bright, gesturing wildly as she talks. “It seems to have some kind of magnetic property — not in the traditional sense, but it affects certain metals and…”

Lan Wangji lets the other’s words wash over her. Much of this is out of her realm of understanding — she doesn’t know if it is simply that Wei Wuxian’s explanations are lacking, expecting her to follow along when she makes great leaps, or if it is simply beyond Lan Wangji altogether, or if it is both.

She doesn’t mind, though. Wei Wuxian is beautiful like this, full of energy and joyous as she moves from one instrument to the other. She doesn’t explain such scientific items, not now, but they are punctuations in her speech, for emphasis and example.

Wei Wuxian sighs heavily to punctuate her last sentence. “I wish I didn’t have to go back,” she says mournfully. “There’s still so much to do!”

“Will you go… soon?” Lan Wangji doesn’t want her to go. Not yet.

The human grins. “I’ll be here for a bit longer. Sorry, you won’t be rid of me just yet.”

Lan Wangji can’t help the tiniest of smiles.

It becomes a routine to visit Wei Wuxian every other day. She wants it to be every day, and Bichen goes every day, and neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian remark on that, but she has to show some restraint. At least, that’s what she thinks, until she realizes that oftentimes Wei Wuxian is only reminded to interrupt her work and eat when the witch pays a visit.

Once she finds that out — it’s good that Bichen witnesses such — the restraint is gone, and she is there every day.

She learns of Wei Wuxian’s siblings. Of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, of friends such as Wen Ning and Wen Qing, and Nie Huaisang. She admonishes Wei Wuxian for talking while eating, and the human laughs and Lan Wangji tries to convince herself that she had been sincere about the admonishment, and that the laughter ringing in her ears hadn’t been her goal instead. While she may not understand the purpose of each device or what the instruments do, she begins to understand how Wei Wuxian checks each device.

The pendulum-like one, she records its speed. On another, she checks the movement of a small piece of metal. Wei Wuxian is in her element in this, and Lan Wangji could watch all day long.

And then, just like that, the routine comes to an end.

“Sorry, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian explains with a heavy sigh. “I’ve got like a week more. Will you help me pack it all up?” Ever the ‘Good Samaritan’ in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, the witch does.

Touches between the two have slowly been established. Lan Wangji rarely touches the other, apart from when necessary, and the thick furs the other wears make it feel less intimate. Wei Wuxian clearly loves to touch, but is just as clearly restraining herself for Lan Wangji, sticking to touching her arm and occasionally her wrist. Lan Wangji is torn between thanking her for such restraint and begging for more. She says nothing, instead.

But the last week, before she goes, it feels like Wei Wuxian touches even more, every excuse. Brushing snow from Lan Wangji’s shoulder, fussing with her sleeve, pulling Lan Wangji by the wrist… It’s nice. It’s nice.

On the last day, Lan Wangji escorts Wei Wuxian almost all the way to town. They stop outside, where Wei Wuxian must be cold but doesn’t complain, to have a moment alone. “You’ll be here when I come back, right, Lan Wangji?” Wei Wuxian asks.

She’s been nonchalant about this whole thing, occasionally complaining about going home but in a non-serious way that Lan Wangji doesn’t quite understand, but even though she smiles, there’s some anxiety written in there that unravels something inside Lan Wangji.

“…Lan Zhan,” she says.

Wei Wuxian looks puzzled. “What?”

“My name. It’s Lan Zhan.” That, in and of itself, is an answer.

A broad, bright smile spreads across Wei Wuxian’s face. She’s dazzling. She takes Lan Wangji’s hands and squeezes them. “Lan Zhan! Then, I’ll see you when I return?”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji, and she squeezes back.

The ramshackle hut is nothing without Wei Wuxian’s vibrancy. There is no furniture — Wei Wuxian had used a sleeping bag, and every item she had brought had been either foldable or an instrument that went back with her.

Lan Wangji thinks about Wei Wuxian, and about how, when she left, she had turned around and waved goodbye three times. She thinks about the way Bichen had groomed Suibian’s feathers one last time before he had tucked himself in Wei Wuxian’s coat. She thinks about how this place isn’t… suitable for long-term, and how Wei Wuxian…

Well, Lan Wangji would like her to stay long-term.

She touches the wood one more time and leaves. With no Wei Wuxian here, it doesn’t matter if dogs come. She will have a proper home made and then Wei Wuxian… will stay.

Shameless, she chides herself, and goes to seek Xichen’s help.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji is glad for the house she’s built. Not her, personally — they have learned her skills certainly do not lie in that area — but what she has arranged to be built. Wei Wuxian- Wei Ying, Wei Ying will like it. She hopes. It is modest, but it is a home that will last for years. A bedroom, a kitchen, a restroom. A sitting area is fitting, in her mind, but she also knows Wei Ying well and knows that she is not the kind to sit still, not the kind to require a sitting room. Wei Ying would rather be in her tent with equipment, and Lan Wangji knows this.

There’s a knock on the door, and Lan Wangji stills. She had been too caught up in her thoughts and had not listened to the world around her. Embarrassed, she goes to open the door, expecting Xichen. Her sister has come to visit her multiple times over the course of this project, always teasing, always with something to say. Lan Wangji braces herself.

It’s not Xichen.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying greets, but she’s pouting. “I can’t believe you! I’m not even gone that long, and you’re stealing my prime real estate!”

Suibian pokes his head out from her coat. “Very rude!” he chimes, and Bichen gives him a look from Lan Wangji’s side.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breathes, unable to take her eyes off the human, even to blink. “You’re back early.”

“Yes, yes, I missed you,” Wei Ying says, so casually as if that doesn’t pierce Lan Wangji’s heart. “But focus! I’ve returned only to find that you’ve stolen my spot! And built this lovely abode all for yourself!”

She giggles, then, and Lan Wangji can control herself enough to glance away, feeling hot. “I had this built for you,” she says.

“And it really is lovely! Thank you, Lan Zhan!” When she looks at her, Wei Ying is grinning widely, and takes a few steps toward, straight into Lan Wangji’s personal space. “Hey, hey, can I give you a hug? Since you did suuuuch a good job with my house and clearly missed me sooooo much?”

“Shameless,” Lan Wangji mutters with a quick shake of her head, relieved that at least Wei Ying asked instead of just going for it, and the human cackles. 

Bichen and Suibian are more than willing to touch each other, Lan Wangji notes with sour embarrassment as Wei Ying inspects her new home, making noises of delight every few moments. The crow is perched on the crane, and every time she glances over, one of them meets her eyes, so she keeps her gaze averted, much to Bichen’s amusement.

It is not… intimate touching, it is nothing deep, even when considering that Lan Wangji doesn’t let others near, that it is nothing Bichen and Shouyue have not already done, and yet… and yet…

She refocuses on Wei Ying.

The kitchen meets with her satisfaction — simple, but useful. (“I’ll cook something for you, Lan Zhan!” and Lan Wangji sees no issue with inclining her head and accepting the offer. A few days later, when her mouth feels as though it is aflame, she will highly regret such a decision.)

The bathroom is acceptable as well — Wei Ying is delighted that Lan Wangji has set it up for proper bathing, and Lan Wangji does not think about that any more than is proper, not at all.

When it comes to the bedroom, Wei Ying flings herself onto the bed face first, happy. She says something, but it’s muffled, so she rolls over to talk. “Did you use this while waiting for me?” she asks. “It’s great. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No,” says Lan Wangji, trying not to blush, and Wei Ying grins at her.

It is surprisingly easy to slip into where they were before — Lan Wangji hadn’t been sure. Never before had she had a… relationship like this, a friendship of this kind (though such a word feels so small and yet also so big), had an ebb and flow, leave and return, and it’s a great relief to find it so easy. She helps Wei Ying set up all her equipment once more, noting the additions, and Wei Ying lights up when she asks about them.

“I told you before, how that fourth particle has some sort of magnetic property?” Wei Ying asks, and though Lan Wangji inclines her head, Wei Ying isn’t even looking for it. “Well, it’s not simply that it’s magnetic, but that it’s guiding the metal! See, when I place objects nearby…”

This time, Lan Wangji can follow along more easily, listening to Wei Ying gush about her newest equipment to monitor. A glass tin of small metal grains, as fine as sand, that move towards objects placed around it without any seeming rhyme or reason.

“There is a meaning,” says Wei Ying, eyes bright. “I’m figuring it out, but it’s there.”

Nothing in Lan Wangji doubts her, not for one moment. 

As before, Lan Wangji becomes Wei Ying’s second pair of hands, her note-taker, her person to bounce thoughts off of, even if Lan Wangji says nothing back. As before, they do not stay locked up in that tent — they fish together, hunt, walk around the cold Arctic until it’s too cold for Wei Ying and they must return. As before, Wei Ying touches Lan Wangji, hands and shoulders and elbows, feet kicking at her playfully, nudging her shoulder with Wei Ying’s own, squeezing hands, and other soft touches.

As before, it goes far too quickly.

“I don’t want to go,” complains Wei Ying, lying flopped across her bed. She would be in her tent, but Lan Wangji had pulled her away, insisting on her eating some of that terrifying food. She had complied — though not after Lan Wangji had had to take a horrifying bite — and now she is full and doesn’t want to move.

Lan Wangji had declined to join her on the bed, instead sitting on a stool close enough to touch. “Then stay,” she says, thrumming with her own desire to have Wei Ying stay, but she knows it is not that simple. She wishes, but it is not.

“I can’t,” Wei Ying whines. “I wish I was a witch, Lan Zhan! If I was, I wouldn’t have to go back, and I could get this all done even faster! I’d have answers by now!"

Doubting herself is one thing that Lan Wangji will not allow. “You are incorrect,” she says. “I am a witch, and I have no answers. Wei Ying is brilliant as she is now.”

Wei Ying practically shrieks, sending both birds fluttering, and glares at Lan Wangji with a red face. “How cruel, how cruel! How have you learned how to tease!?”

Lan Wangji can’t help but smile, just a tiny curve of her lips. “I am not teasing,” she says.

“Sincerity is even worse!” Wei Ying wails. “Especially with that smile!” She wails and flails a bit more, before suddenly pushing herself to her feet and looking right at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan,” she says, face still red, though the blush is fading. “I’m leaving in two days.”

She is. They’ll pack up her equipment tomorrow. “You are,” says Lan Wangji in acknowledgement.

“I want a hug, then,” she says. “I’m giving you time to brace yourself, but I will be hugging you.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes are a bit wide. She thinks that if she truly, truly insisted that it was unacceptable, that she was uncomfortable, Wei Ying wouldn’t force her. But… but… “Very well,” she says, swallowing sharply.

“I’m holding you to that,” says Wei Ying, and she beams.

She does. When it comes time to go, when they have gathered up all of Wei Ying’s equipment and put it on the sleigh and dragged it all the way back in towards town, when it comes time to part ways… Wei Ying hugs her. She wraps her arms tightly around Lan Wangji, warm and wonderful, and holds Lan Wangji until she can slowly, slowly bring up her own hands to curl in Wei Ying’s coat.

When Wei Ying pulls away, her face is cherry pink, but not solely from the cold. Suibian preens through a few of Bichen’s feathers in farewell before darting to burrow in Wei Ying’s coat.

“I’ll see you next time, Lan Zhan!” she says.

“Yes. I will see you next time, Wei Ying.”

The next time Wei Ying comes, Lan Wangji barely has a moment to even breathe in her presence before she starts talking. “Lan Zhan!” she announces herself, immediately throwing herself at the witch and squeezing. “You knew I was coming today, huh?”

It was honestly embarrassing how much Lan Wangji had listened to the sounds of nature, trying to hear the song of Wei Ying returning, but fortunately she doesn't have to say that — Wei Ying immediately pulls her out the door, right to setting up her equipment once more. “I have a new theory! Ask me what it is, Lan Zhan, ask me.”

Her eyes sparkle and gleam. Lan Wangji is helpless. “What is your new theory?”

She stops abruptly, right in front of Lan Wangji, and grins mischievously. “I think magic and science are two versions of the same thing. ”

As they set up the tent and then the table, beginning to arrange her equipment in all its proper places, Wei Ying explains. “It’s reacting,” she says, eyes alight. “I don’t know if it’s the fourth particle or if that’s an after effect, if that’s a trace element or-“

“Reacting to what?” Lan Wangji asks, interrupting her before she can go off too much on something deeply incomprehensible to the witch.

“To questions,” Wei Ying says. There’s a fire to her, a passion so bright that Lan Wangji feels like it could melt the snow around them. “If I ask it a question, it tries to give me an answer.”

She produces ‘it’.

It looks like a compass. Lan Wangji has never needed to use one before — she knows which direction is which without even thinking of it — but she knows humans do, had witnessed them used and asked after their purpose when having Wei Ying’s house built. It’s a strange compass, though, and Lan Wangji frowns at it.

For one, it’s… large. Larger than a normal compass, more akin to a dinner plate. Secondly, unlike most compasses that Lan Wangji has seen, it does not remain fixated on North — in fact, there is no indication of directions. Instead, two compass needles drift slowly as Wei Ying sets it down, not pointing into any of the symbols along the edges. They’re strange symbols — an owl, a sun, a helmet, countless more that seem to have no rhyme or reason to their existence, with wide spaces between each symbol. Wei Ying pours out a small bag of metal figurines on the table, different from the symbols: a sword, a lute, and so on.

“I move one needle to ask a question,” Wei Ying says, eyes alight. “I choose whatever symbol seems best. And then the other needle moves to a different symbol to answer.”

Lan Wangji considers this. She is a witch, and she listens to the world around her for answers — humans cannot do this. It does not strike her as far-fetched that a human could figure out how to reach through that which is deafened to humans, and learn how to hear as well. It does not strike her as far-fetched that Wei Ying, brilliant as she is, is reaching for something far more precise and… concrete than anything a witch has ever done.

Of course it would be Wei Ying who is more dazzling than the sun on the snow.

“How do you know the meanings behind each symbol?” she asks. “Why are some… figures, and not part of the compass?”

Wei Ying is so delighted at Lan Wangji that she claps her hands twice. “I’m figuring out the meanings! And the symbols! I place the figurines on the compass and see if I can make the needle turn to them or react to them. If they don’t, eventually, I’ll discard them as options. If they do cause a reaction, I add them.”

She leans close. So close, Lan Wangji can feel her warm breath puff against her cheeks, and she hopes she isn’t blushing. “Hey, hey, Lan Zhan. Do you want to help me?”

Lan Wangji loves seeing her shine like this, full of life and passion. “Yes,” she says, and Wei Ying hugs her again.

It is surprisingly fun to try to solve this. Their fingers brush as they move the needle, place the figurines, thinking of questions and waiting with baited breath for the answers and noting every single thing down. The anchor seems to mean sea, which seems obvious, but so does the dolphin — how do they differ? The beehive is added, but the snowman discarded.

The bird seems to mean their daemons, which causes Lan Wangji and Wei Ying both to look at theirs. Bichen meets Lan Wangji’s eyes steadily, and then returns to preening Suibian’s feathers. Both she and Wei Ying can’t help but pink, glancing away from each other, but neither discourages it.

Lan Wangji is not as good at this as Wei Ying is. Rather, she continues her duties from before, recording everything faithfully, helping Wei Ying think of questions, but… she doesn’t quite understand the leaps of logic that Wei Ying seems able to take, not able to grasp at the understanding that lights up in Wei Ying’s eyes when she’s lit upon a meaning (for each symbol bears many).

Still, she helps. She has a carefully organized notebook — Wei Ying sketched each symbol, lovely as can be, and Lan Wangji has covered the page next to each symbol with copious notes. They pour over the book together, throwing out possible meanings, trying to think of ideas.

“The infant likely symbolizes a person,” says Lan Wangji.

“Mhm, I think so! But what kind of person? Any person? The asker? Humanity as a whole? Humanity and witches? ” asks Wei Ying, rapid fire, tossing all the questions at Lan Wangji just to see the way she blinks.

She does blink. And then she frowns. “Humans and witches are not so different to require separate symbols,” Lan Wangji argues, though such a thought would have felt inconceivable before. The thought of being so different from Wei Ying… she dislikes it, and it makes her heart hurt.

Wei Ying laughs at her, poking Lan Wangji’s cheek and then laughing again when she turns away. “True, true! Ah, Lan Zhan… I wish I could stay! So much wasted time! My poor research!”

Lan Wangji looks at her sideways. “You cannot continue once you return?” Wei Ying shakes her head sadly, offering up no explanation — does it not work as well when she is ‘home’? Does she have other obligations? — and Lan Wangji does not press, even though she wants to. Stay with me, she thinks, but she does not say it. She does not. “…I can assist you,” Lan Wangji says instead.

Wei Ying’s cute pout disappears, and she looks at Lan Wangji in astonishment. “Lan Zhan! Really? You would?”

Lan Wangji inclines her head. She may not be able to expand upon Wei Ying’s experiments, for many of them are still out of her grasp, but… “I can continue to ask questions,” she tells her. “And record information. Though you will have to show me how to read all of your instruments.”

“Yes!” says Wei Ying immediately, slamming her hands on the table and making the compass wobble. “Yes, of course I will!” She grabs Lan Wangji’s hand, squeezing it tightly and pulling her to her feet. “I’ll teach you to read them all before I go!”

She is true to her word.

“Wangji, are you going over there again?” Lan Xichen asks in clear amusement.

Lan Wangji frowns at her sister, hating the way she can feel her face burning. “Wei Ying is here now,” she says. “She arrived four days ago.” Lan Xichen has found far too much amusement in reading about her steadfast efforts to record data for Wei Ying while she’s been gone.

“Is she?” This information does not appear to dissuade her sister. “Are you taking her to see the lights? There are better views than at her cabin.”

She wants to refute Lan Xichen. She truly does. Yet… that would be a lie, and so she stubbornly looks the other way instead. Lan Xichen chuckles. “Have fun,” she says, and Lan Wangji escapes.

Wei Ying greets her with a cheerful smile, happily at work in her tent as always. “Lan Zhan!” she greets, though she looks tired. She’s building a second compass, a smaller one that fits in the palm of her hand as a compass should, and it is… well, a task that keeps her busy. She had also seemed tired when she arrived, but no amount of exhaustion dampens her cheer. “Ready to use your allotted words for the day? I’m sure you’re brimming with questions.”

Lan Wangji shakes her head wordlessly because she knows it will amuse Wei Ying if she promptly doesn’t speak, and instead gestures for the human to come with, holding out her hand. Wei Ying cackles, Suibian swooping around her head with a caw before darting in to hide in Wei Ying’s pocket, head poking out. A thread of amusement thrums through both Lan Wangji and Bichen. They’re so dramatic about the cold.

“Where are you taking me?” Wei Ying asks, slipping on her gloves and taking Lan Wangji’s hand. She lets herself be led wordlessly out, grinning as Lan Wangji continues to refuse to reply. “You’re really sweeping me off my feet like this, you know!” She cackles, sounding just like her crow daemon, who echoes her. “I can’t tell if this is a kidnapping… or really romantic!”

That breaks Lan Wangji, who is desperately trying to ignore how much she would love for this to be the latter. “Shameless!” she huffs, unable to resist, and that just makes them both cackle again. She tries to pretend she’s annoyed by that, but Bichen’s amusement is so clear — Lan Wangji can’t hide from herself like that.

She leads a curious Wei Ying out to the selected spot. It is not far, over a small hill, and it is a familiar place. One of Wei Ying’s devices is out here, one of the few that is apart from the others. Lan Wangji doesn’t know what it measures, exactly, which is fine — it is a weathervane of sorts, or resembles it, and it turns based on that fourth particle, that driving force behind all of Wei Ying’s research. Here is the best place for it, supposedly. Here is the best place Wei Ying has found so far to measure it.

Here, coincidentally, is also the best place to see the Aurora Borealis.

Wei Ying looks amused, albeit confused, as they come to a stop. “Are we here for a reading?” she asks, though she knows very well they aren’t, and she glances around. “Were you sooooo eager to—“

She falls abruptly silent as green light begins to peek over the trees. 

Lan Wangji has seen the lights many times. She is older than many humans would think, and a witch always knows when a phenomenon is upon them. And yet… today, it is different. Wei Ying has never seen them before. She is silent, looking with wide, glistening eyes as it slowly spreads across the sky, the greens and purples beginning to hide the stars, lighting up everything around them as if it were daylight, as if it were the sun.

As if she is also the sun, breaking through the clouds, Wei Ying shatters the silence with a laugh. It’s not a mischievous cackle like earlier, as much as Lan Wangji also enjoys that laugh, but a laugh of pure joy, pure wonder. “Suibian! Look! Look!”

“I see it! I see it!” Suibian crows, sounding just as happy. He works his way out of the pocket, swooping around Wei Ying’s head in delight, before perching on the vane. The crow can’t stay still for long, and in just a few moments, he’s taking off again in the air.

Wei Ying is the same, spinning around in pure joy, laughing and looking up at the sky. Lan Wangji can’t help but smile as she watches her and Suibian, and Bichen would do the same if he could. The same amount of happiness thrums through them as they look at their loves. Loves. She may never be able to say it, but she knows.

As she spins, Wei Ying nearly trips. Lan Wangji steps forward as if to steady her, but the human catches herself — they make eye contact, and the smile Wei Ying gives her is so lovely. “Golden Compass of mine,” she says, and Lan Wangji blinks, not having realized she brought it with her. “Isn’t Lan Zhan the loveliest and kindest person in the world?” Lan Wangji’s cheeks heat at that, and Wei Ying glances to where the unfinished compass lies in her palm and laughs. “It says you are! It must be true!”

“You did not ask it properly,” says Lan Wangji, but Wei Ying just laughs again and returns to her spinning.

Eventually, Lan Wangji is sent back to grab a chair and drawing materials for Wei Ying — well, Wei Ying plans on going, but Lan Wangji does not want to steal this moment from her and so volunteers herself — and they stay out for a long time so Wei Ying can sketch to her heart’s content. She’s the happiest Lan Wangji has ever seen her, happily chattering about how the Colleges will love this. “I have a presentation to give when I go back,” she says. “I’m hoping to get more funding, though I’ll turn down any assistants they try to offer me.” Wei Ying glances at Lan Wangji sidelong. “I have you, after all, right?”

“Yes,” says Lan Wangji, and Wei Ying laughs and returns to her drawing.

When Wei Ying is finally done, teeth chattering, Lan Wangji insists on their returning. “Fine,” Wei Ying agrees, “But only until I’m warmed up. I need to check all the readings, anyway.”

They trek back together, check every single instrument and note down everything. (Lan Wangji does wonder what Wei Ying is studying aside from that fourth element, aside from that which leads to her compass. She hasn’t asked, and Wei Ying hasn’t offered — it would probably be beyond her, anyway.) When they’re done, Wei Ying insists on going back out, and Lan Wangji puts up little protest.

Cold or not, she does want Wei Ying to see it.

When she starts getting too cold once more, Wei Ying looks at the completely fine witch. “You know,” she says. “You could always warm me up.”

Lan Wangji pinks, but… “If that is what you want,” she says, and she holds Wei Ying in her arms. Bichen stands at Lan Wangji’s side, close enough to reach out and touch Wei Ying, if he desired to. Suibian has retreated once more to the warmth of Wei Ying’s coat, and Lan Wangji can see his head peek out and look at her. She would only have to reach out.

They are all painfully aware of the closeness. No one says anything for the longest time, looking at each other and glancing away at the sky. “…You are my dearest friend,” says Wei Ying. “If I had more room, well… you would be more than welcome to spend the night, after this. Or more. Surely you don’t like the trek back and forth? It would be—“

“You are as well,” Lan Wangji manages to croak. The only, only reason she manages that is because Wei Ying’s voice had sped up, seemingly nervous, and Lan Wangji isn’t willing to hear that, even though she feels as though she has been struck on the head. “I…”

Spend the night? Spend the night? Does Wei Ying mean it like that? She says dearest friend and this in the same breath and—

Lan Wangji isn’t certain what her face is doing, what expression and emotion Wei Ying can read on it, but whatever it is, it makes Wei Ying relax. “If you want to, you could always do more renovations while I’m away,” she says, “Expand a little.” She’s relaxed, but the levity in her voice isn’t quite there, the joking just a bit forced. “Just… think about it, okay?”

“Yes,” says Lan Wangji, which isn’t a proper answer but is all she can formulate, and after searching her face one more time, Wei Ying settles against her, looking back up at the sky.

They stay like that, keeping each other warm, until all the light has faded.

Dearest friend.

It rings through the rest of Wei Ying’s visit, hangs over them, and lingers long after she’s gone, along with the warmth of her farewell embrace. Lan Wangji doesn’t know. Doesn’t dare to dream, not really, of what that could mean, of what Wei Ying could be implying.

She is embarrassed about her behavior— she does, in fact, expand the house. Just… just a bit. Enough for a second bed, though she does not make one, and then it hits her that she had made Wei Ying’s bed big enough for two from the beginning, so none of this was truly necessary, and she has to sit down heavily upon it with her head in her hands. “Have I been like this from the beginning?” she asks.

Bichen lays his head on her knee. “We have been… transparent,” he says.

Lan Wangji pulls her hands back enough so she can look at him balefully. “You have been better than I,” she says, as though they are not two halves of a whole, as if it is not simply easier for daemons to express their affection instead of their people.

He does not point that out, though, because they both know it and they both have no need to say the obvious. They both do not need to say their obvious worry, either, for it thrums through them both. It is more embarrassing, but easier, for Lan Wangji to fret about the house, to think of the bed, to wonder what Wei Ying will think of it and what the human truly meant, than to light upon the obvious, true worry.

Wei Ying is late.

Perhaps they are simply too used to seeing her early, and she is not late at all — that is what Bichen thinks. Perhaps she obtained her funding and whatever she needs from the Colleges, and that is what is delaying her — that is what Lan Wangji thinks. Neither is any cause to worry, and yet…

Bichen rests his head for one more moment before straightening up, taking a step back. “I will listen while I am out,” he says, and after the two nod at each other, he leaves for a flight. He often wishes to be in the air, and while Lan Wangji normally also enjoys such… not now. Not while she frets.

After lingering in the house a little longer, she leaves to go to the tent of equipment. The witch has no new records to make — most of Wei Ying’s equipment went with her, this time, to be part of her demonstration. The large, original compass remains, though.

Lan Wangji looks at it. It is complete, to the extent it can be. Wei Ying hasn’t found any further symbols, not for some time. Her smaller one is more refined, with four different needles, more neatly etched and polished. But Lan Wangji likes this one, in all its unrefined glory.

She has a question.

There are now three needles on the compass, instead of two — two for the questioning, one for the answer.

She turns one — the horse, for journeys. She turns the other — the apple, for knowledge. Lan Wangji presses a hand to each side of the compass and thinks, Where is Wei Ying?

The other needle moves. It spins four times, four agonizing times, and lands on the anchor.

Before, the two of them had wondered. How did the dolphin and the anchor both represent the sea? The answer was not simple — they both did, and they didn’t. Perhaps the dolphin meant sea, or perhaps it embodied the playfulness of the sea, how it was a wide, nourishing home. Perhaps the anchor meant the sea, or perhaps it embodied the unpredictability of the sea, or the…

“Danger,” Lan Wangji whispers, heart pounding. Wei Ying is in danger.

Chapter Text

"Bichen!” Lan Wangji yells, or she thinks, or she feels — she can’t tell. It is almost an out-of-body experience, taking a step back from the compass and reaching out and listening. Nature screams the same as the compass — the animals run from and avoid a location, avoid something out here that does not belong, and however she communicated her terror to him, Bichen listened and is already moving in that direction.

Lan Wangji takes off on her broom. She has never flown this fast in her life.

Bichen finds Wei Ying first, and as the witch flies at top speed, she sees through her daemon’s eyes. Wei Ying, wounded, and pursued by what seem like military men. She has a gun, which Lan Wangji didn’t know she could wield, and as Bichen watches, she leans around the tree she’s taken cover behind, takes aim, and shoots. A man falls, his wolf daemon vanishing.

Wei Ying has the advantage of terrain — it’s clear she’s led the men to a bottlenecked area to try to pick them off more easily, but they have guns, too, and Bichen can see the bloodstain on her coat spreading. She won’t last for too much longer.

Fortunately, she will not have to.

Bichen will be no help in a fight against guns — he keeps his distance, though it pains them both, but he calls, “Wei Ying!”

She glances up, surprised, and her shoulders slump a little even as a bullet pings her shelter. “Bichen!” she exclaims, and then Lan Wangji is upon them.

These humans have never fought a witch before. They never will again. She has no gun, but Lan Wangji has her bow, and she is far faster than any human. Arrow after arrow fits into her bow, and arrow after arrow finds its mark. The daemons vanish, the men fall, and Lan Wangji lands in the snow and runs to Wei Ying just in time to catch her.

“My hero,” giggles Wei Ying, who is either being her usual joking self or delirious from blood loss — both are possibilities. While she is wearing her insulated coat, she is damp and freezing, and Lan Wangji wonders at her journey here, wonders what happened.

This isn’t the time for it. Wei Ying is flagging now that the immediate danger is out of the way. Lan Wangji searches for Suibian — in her coat, good, clearly trying desperately to keep Wei Ying warm, but just a crow — and then exhales, scooping up Wei Ying in her arms. “Wow,” slurs Wei Ying, eyes barely open. “You’re strong. Do you do push-ups every morning?”

“Handstands,” she replies without thinking, and Wei Ying gives another weak giggle. Witches do not feel the cold, and thus Lan Wangji has never seen any point in wearing thicker clothing, in dressing as a human does, but she wishes so painfully, so fiercely, that she had layers. Anything to try to keep Wei Ying warm, who is starting to shiver, teeth chattering.

Bichen does what he can. He weighs little, not enough to slow Lan Wangji down if she had to carry him, too, and so he alights on Wei Ying, his body on her chest as he presses his head and neck to her face, curling slightly around Suibian. “‘S nice,” Wei Ying murmurs as she closes her eyes fully, seeming to pass out.

It takes everything — everything — within Lan Wangji to make herself move. It is a careful balancing act, perching on her broom and then zipping across the landscape, skimming just above the snow for balance.

A person does not touch another’s daemon. It does not matter how close they are, if they are family or lovers, or anything else — you do not. Daemons touching each other is fine, but this… this…

It does not matter, though it sends a shudder through Lan Wangji. Bichen may not provide much warmth, but he provides some. Wei Ying is cold, and she needs it. Lan Wangji would let Wei Ying hold her own beating heart if that was desired — why should her touching her soul be any different?

She pushes it from her mind, and she flies. 

It’s not a fatal wound.

Lan Wangji is not trained for this — she is not someone who has ever needed to warm others up in an emergency, though she has dealt with wounds before. She rushes into the house, strips Wei Ying of her coat and shirt, and examines the wound.

She’s never dealt with bullet wounds before, but the magic is the same.

Bichen leaps off of Wei Ying to go tell Lan Xichen what happened (who promises the daemon, with eyes of flint, that she and Shuoyue will keep an eye out for more intruders), and Lan Wangji heals the wound. She does not have time for an ornate ritual, nor have the magic for it when it is just her, nor even a poultice, but she presses a hand to Wei Ying’s bleeding flesh, chanting, and when she pulls her hand back, the wound is closed.

Good. Good.

Suibian alights on Lan Wangji’s shoulder as she tends to Wei Ying, and though the witch freezes for a moment, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “What happened?” she asks instead, now that the moment of danger has passed. Now she must warm Wei Ying up, and she cleans up the blood with warm water and then bundles Wei Ying into bed with every single blanket and article of clothing Wei Ying has left behind in the house.

“There’s a new emperor now,” says Suibian, sounding exhausted. It must take every ounce of willpower he has to stay awake while Wei Ying is unconscious like this — willpower is not something they lack. “What can I say? He wasn’t exactly happy with Wei Ying’s work.”

Lan Wangji glances at the crow. He’s right there. She can feel his feet on her shoulder, and it makes it a little hard to breathe. “So you had to flee for your lives?” That seems a… strong response.

Suibian ruffles up his feathers. “We’re heretics now!” He sounds proud. That does explain it.

Willpower or no, he can’t stay awake too much longer, and flutters to sleep on Wei Ying’s pillow, next to her head. He’s out almost immediately, and Lan Wangji is left alone with them, Bichen on the way. Just her and their quiet breathing. She slumps in her chair.

Wei Ying is out of danger. Her wound will be tender, and Lan WangjI can do nothing about the blood loss, but she will be fine. Her teeth have stopped chattering, and the color has returned to her face, so even though Lan Wangji will still not let her outside for a few days, she will be fine. Lan Xichen will stop anyone else who comes, and the Emperor overall has little power here. She will be fine. Wei Ying is out of danger.

And still Lan Wangji bows her head and cries.

By the time Wei Ying awakens, Lan Wangji has composed herself. She’s simmering a soup, one that can sit on the stove for some time in case it is not required until later. “Smells good,” says Wei Ying, and Lan Wangji spins around. Wei Ying still looks exhausted, but she smiles at Lan Wangji. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Lan Zhan,” she says.

In an instant, Lan Wangji is at her side — the side opposite from where Suibian rests, for she doesn’t have the strength to risk further touch. “How do you feel?” she asks. Wei Ying snorts, and Lan Wangji frowns. “Wei Ying. Be serious.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” she says, but it’s a complaint for the sake of complaining. “I’m a little tired, but it doesn’t hurt at all.” Her eyes flicker to the stove. “Also, starving. Feed me.” Wei Ying gives her big, pleading eyes.

Lan Wangji does get her a bowl of soup, but does not feed her — she’s not invalidated enough for that, and while Wei Ying pouts, she accepts it. “Do you expect the Emperor to send more people after you?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Ying blinks. “Did you ask the alethiometer that? You’ve gotten really good at getting answers.”

“The compass?” Lan Wangji confirms, because it didn’t have a name before, and Wei Ying nods, shoveling some noodles into her mouth. “No. Suibian told me.”

Suibian ruffles his feathers but says nothing — does he feel awkward about the touch, now that he and Wei Ying are fully conscious? Does Wei Ying know? She doesn’t say anything about it, though a look Lan Wangji can’t quite decipher flits over her face before she’s gone. “Oh,” she says. “Maybe? I’m hoping he won’t see a point. It’s not like I’m trying to overthrow him or anything. Not really.”

Lan Wangji narrows her eyes. “Not really?”

Wei Ying gives a half shrug. “I maaaaay have used the alethiometer to expose a few murder plots. He might not be emperor for too long.”

“Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t leave Wei Ying’s side for the next few days. Sure, she’s able to leave her bed and walk around, just needing food and rest to recover from the blood loss, but Lan Wangji is loath to let her go outside in the cold again. She will fetch the wood and hunt if needed and double back to retrieve her sled of supplies that Wei Ying had abandoned while being chased, so long as the human stays indoors. 

Wei Ying pouts and complains but it’s for the sake of it. She doesn’t try to sneak out, and she seems… sad, when Lan Wangji catches glimpses of her when arriving back, before she’s had the time to plaster on cheer. She wonders if Wei Ying will ever be able to go home, will ever be able to see that family she speaks so fondly of… and wonders if, perhaps, Wei Ying is grappling with the same.

It’s a good thing that Lan Wangji had the house expanded, added a sitting room that connects to the bedroom, for it gives her space. Wei Ying teasingly invites Lan Wangji into her bed one night, but it’s just a tease, and they know it. They don’t talk about that conversation they had before Wei Ying left, of dearest friend and spending the night, even though Lan Wangji now does that every night.

They also do not discuss the daemons. Wei Ying must know that Bichen touched her. She must also know that Suibian touched Lan Wangji. And yet… she says nothing. It’s agonizing. Will it be pushed aside, a moment of necessity that they will never acknowledge, no matter how intimate? If that is the case, Lan Wangji understands, she simply wishes to know. 

She walks on those eggshells until Bichen returns.

Lan Xichen, Shouyue, and Bichen have all been keeping an eye out for any further intruders. Lan Xichen killed a few more the day after Wei Ying arrived, but it seemed those were likely part of the same group, stragglers or back-ups. Lan Xichen and Shouyue will keep patrolling for the rest of the week, and then they will all ease into simply being careful, but Bichen returns to rest and check in.

Wei Ying watches for a moment as Bichen settles down in a chair, and then takes a few steps forward to place a hand on Bichen’s head. Everyone freezes. Bichen doesn’t move, Suibian stills on Wei Ying’s shoulder, and Lan Wangji feels as though her heart is in her throat. Wei Ying is touching him. She’s touching him. Lan Wangji swallows sharply and can’t breathe.

“You touched me before, didn’t you?” asks Wei Ying. Lan Wangji wants to apologize, Bichen wants to apologize, and yet… and yet… 

Suibian flutters over and lands on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. He rubs his head against Lan Wangji’s chin, and carefully, Lan Wangji reaches up to run her fingers along his back, ruffling his feathers slightly. She can see Wei Ying shudder. “And… you touched me as well,” Lan Wangji says to Suibian.

The two of them stand there, looking at each other, fingers running through the daemons’ feathers. Lan Wangji feels hot. Burning, in a way she has never felt before, every trace of fingers sending a shudder through her, her throat parched as she tries to swallow again, and then they’re kissing.

Lan Wangji doesn’t feel herself move or see Wei Ying move, but their bodies are pressed together, Wei Ying’s mouth hot and slick against hers, and Lan Wangji’s hands curl, one in Wei Ying’s hair and the other in her shirt. Suibian and Bichen preen each other, a rush of happiness flowing from Bichen that Lan Wangji meets with her own overwhelmed giddiness. Wei Ying is spinning Lan Wangji, pushing her down onto the bed. She climbs on top, beginning to kiss her way down the witch’s throat as Lan Wangji gasps…

Wei Ying lies with her head resting on Lan Wangji’s chest, sighing contentedly as the witch’s fingers run through her hair. Bichen adjusts the blanket over them, brushing Wei Ying as he does, and then returns his attention to Suibian. It feels good, feels right.

“We should have done that ages ago,” Wei Ying mumbles.

Lan Wangji hums slightly, not responding for a moment. “Wei Ying,” she says, trying to figure out the best way to say this. “You… will likely not be able to return.”

She groans, laying one arm dramatically across her face. “Don’t remind me. My siblings will have to come up here to visit me.”

That’s a bit of a surprise. “Is that… a bad thing?” They had seemed to be on good terms. “Are they in any danger by association with you?”

Wei Ying waves a hand. “They’re influential enough, they’ll be fine, and they’ll visit me, Jiang Cheng will just bitch sooooo much.” She makes a face, but then she looks at Lan Wangji, face serious. “I mostly just went back for research stuff,” she says. “I’m happy to stay with you.”

With her? With her, specifically? It’s elating to hear her say that, and Lan Wangji pinks, pressing a kiss to Wei Ying’s hair. “I… am also happy to do that.”

She giggles. “Yeah, I guessed by the renovations. Cute.” Wei Ying traces a finger down Lan Wangji’s nose before booping the end of it. “Looks like you’re stuck being my research assistant for life.”

Lan Wangji smiles. She loves her so very much. “There is no title I would rather have,” she says.

Wei Ying pouts. “Really?” she asks. “Not even… wife?”

Witches do not practice marriage. A witch’s life far outstrips that of a human’s, so it is rare that a witch would deign to marry a human, and between witches, it is simply not part of their culture, not something that is needed or done. But with Wei Ying… oh, with Wei Ying…!

“I would rather have that,” says Lan Wangji, and she kisses her again.

Perhaps it is human of her. Perhaps it is human of her, to move in with her human lover, to commit herself to this light whose life her own outstrips by centuries — if it is, is that so bad? If it is human, is it truly so terrible?

It would be, for a witch to become a human, to be something she is not, but Lan Wangji comes to realize… no, it is not human. Humans do not touch each other's daemons as Lan Wangji and Wei Ying do, more comfortable with such by the day. Humans do not listen to nature as Wei Ying does with her alethiometer, and witches do not marry, saying vows and exchanging rings beneath the next aurora, just the four of them.

They are creating something new, something in between, and it is good.

Wei Ying continues her research — “Just because I know the particle tells the truth doesn’t mean there isn’t more to know, Lan Zhan! How does it do that? ” — and her family comes, or at least her siblings. Their sibling relationship is… well, it’s very different from Lan Wangji’s relationship with Lan Xichen. She doesn’t understand how the insults are affection, how Wei Ying’s sister watches her siblings inflict violence on each other and laugh, but… at least Wei Ying is happy…?

(Jiang Yanli teaches Lan Wangji some of Wei Ying’s favorite recipes, and as much as she does not understand her, the witch is deeply grateful for her.)

Lan Xichen does not understand their relationship, their marriage, and in fact stares with wide eyes and a gaping mouth the first time she sees them touch each other’s daemons, but she is supportive and happy for them nonetheless. A few more men are sent by the emperor at the beginning, but once they are killed and it becomes clear Wei Ying has no intention of returning, they are left to be.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying complains from the bed, buried under far too many blankets to count. It is a good thing the heat does not bother Lan Wangji, either. “Are you really going to neglect your beautiful wife for the dishes?” When Lan Wangji does not turn from her task, Wei Ying gropes blindly to her side until her fingers graze Bichen, who nips them and she withdraws with a little shriek. “Mean! Cruel!”

“Let her finish,” says Bichen, and Wei Ying subsides as Lan Wangji does. She still wiggles impatiently as Lan Wangji dries her hands, and latches on the moment she slips into the bed.

“I miiiiiisssed youuuu,” she whines.

As if this is not the routine that makes up their every evening, Lan Wangji runs a contrite hand through her wife’s hair. “I apologize,” she says, “How should I make it up to you?”

“Hm.” Wei Ying taps her chin with a finger, and then rolls over and grabs Suibian from where he sits on Bichen, before rolling over to face Lan Wangji. “Apologize to Suibian, too, who was waiting so nicely for you!”

“It was a terribly long time,” the crow agrees.

“I apologize, Suibian,” Lan Wangji says, and runs a gentle finger over his head — she, too, gets a nip for her trouble.

Suibian is released, and Wei Ying snuggles back in close. “And I also deserve kisses for my patience.” Lan Wangji hums, and leans in to press a kiss to the wrinkles that have begun to form at the corners of her eyes. “Nooo,” Wei Ying squawks. “Real kisses.”

Lan Wangji kisses her temple next. Then her forehead. Then her cheeks, her nose, her chin, and Wei Ying happily complains the whole time while grinning widely. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” Lan Wangji says. “I think you meant here.”

She kisses her wife’s grinning mouth, and falls into the happiness and love that they’ve built.