“Lan Zhan.”
“Mm.”
Wei Wuxian grins, his fingers lacing themselves through Lan Wangji’s locks as he braids the latter’s hair. Occasionally, he would slip in a flower or two between his hair before intertwining the locks together to tie the flowers in place. The bright camelia flower is a sharp contrast against Lan Wangji’s dark hair.
“Has anyone told you that your hair is so smooth to the touch?” We Wuxian wonders. “It feels as if I’m touching silk.”
Lan Wangji flips one page of his book. “Ridiculous.” However, Wei Wuxian sees the red tips of his ears and knows that he’s pleased by the compliment despite his words. He lets out a hearty laugh before wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji’s shoulders from behind.
“Your heart is more honest than your words, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian croons.
It’s rare that the two of them have a mutual free time—Lan Wangji is often busy with classes if he’s not away for hunts or conferences, and Wei Wuxian is rarely at the Cloud Recesses during the day having preferred to stroll around the nearby towns in Gusu instead—so relaxing underneath one of the many giant trees in the Cloud Recesses’ garden with Lan Wangji in peace feels like an enormous blessing to Wei Wuxian.
The fact that Lan Wangji also allowed him to do whatever he liked with his hair while he reads is a bonus, too, Wei Wuxian thinks gleefully as he adds another flower—a small daisy this time—into the former’s hair before pressing a light, chaste kiss on Lan Wangji’s cheek.
“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Did you know?” he asks.
“Know what, Wei Ying?”
Wei Wuxian’s grin grows. “You’re the first and only person I fell in love with!” he declares with a giggle, sounding proud of it. He doesn’t know why he is suddenly saying this; it just feels right at the moment.
Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Wuxian sees the corner of his lips lift up very slightly, as if forming the barest of smiles.
“It is the same for me,” he replies softly.
It is strange, Wei Wuxian thinks, since Lan Wangji’s voice is almost as flat as the expression on his face, yet it is as if he could feel the genuine happiness in his reply—he could tell how Lan Wangji means every word of it, even though his face doesn’t necessarily reflect this.
Wei Wuxian feels his chest grow warm. Perhaps he loves Lan Wangji more than he thinks.
He is about to reply again when the pair hears a sudden, loud crash of metal, followed by a flurry of curses—ones, Wei Wuxian thinks with a wary look at Lan Wangji, that would surely earn the speaker the infamous handstand punishment from the elder disciples at the Cloud Recesses.
“Now see what you’ve done! If you don’t know what you’re doing, you best get out.”
“Oh and what? Like you’re such a good cook? How am I supposed to believe that a Gusu disciple who eats nothing other than bland food knows anything about taste?”
“P-please don’t argue…”
Huh… how familiar, Wei Wuxian muses, Where have I heard those voices before?
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchange a brief look before rising from their positions to head towards the source of the voices.
The kitchen.
As they walk closer to the kitchen, they hear another crash followed almost immediately by a frustrated cry and before Wei Wuxian could say anything, a flash of yellow can be seen and Jin Ling stumbles out of the kitchen. He has a knife in his hand, and is waving it wildly.
Alarms ring in Wei Wuxian’s head. How is this literal child allowed to have such a dangerous object in his hand and why is he waving it?
“Fine! Kick me out! I’d like to see if you’d fare any better!” shouts Jin Ling, stomping his feet.
“No shouting in the Cloud Recesses!’ screams Jingyi’s disembodied voice.
Wei Wuxian casts a look at Lan Wangji, who continues to stare at the scene dispassionately, though Wei Wuxian is 99.9% sure that the gears in his head are moving as he lists the names of the disciples to be punished. If Jin Ling is part of the Gusu clan, he’d surely be included.
Jin Ling lets out a huff and turns, immediately stiffening when his gaze lands on Lan Wangji. He visibly pales; Wei Wuxian finds this funny enough to laugh, earning a scowl from the leader of the Lanling Jin Sect.
“Jin Ling, I see that you’ve dropped by for a visit,” says Wei Wuxian, “And is that Jingyi I hear?”
As if on cue, Jingyi pops out his head from the doorway and Wei Wuxian can instantly see the mess he made on his face. He squints—is that… flour and oil specks on his cheeks?
Like Jin Ling, Jingyi’s eyes bulge out when he sees Lan Wangji, as if his mere presence sends fear running down his body. Wei Wuxian let out a sigh and pats Lan Wangji’s arm, as if to comfort him.
“Aiya, Lan Zhan. You’re scaring the juniors by just being here.”
Lan Wangji blinks once as an answer.
“HanGuang-Jun! I-I… Uh. Good afternoon—eck!” Jingyi stammers, hurrying into a bow but knocking his head against the doorway in the process. He grabs his head, tears already forming at the corner of his eyes as he hisses in pain. Jin Ling snickers where he stands, not stopping even when Jingyi glares at him.
“You juniors are so lively this afternoon,” Wei Wuxian comments, “Don’t you have lessons or errands to run?”
Lan Sizhui makes an appearance, then, stepping carefully out from the kitchen. Unlike Jingyi, there is nothing out of place from his appearance—his face, hair and uniform impeccably neat as usual—and he offers the two seniors a smile and a brief bow.
“Good afternoon, Senior Wei, HanGuang-Jun,” he greets, “I’m really sorry for the commotion.”
“Why are you apologizing?” whines Jingyi, “It’s Mistress Jin here who couldn’t even handle a knife!”
“Yes, I can!” Jin Ling protests.
“No noise in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji reminds mildly.
“Sincerest apologies, HanGuang-Jun,” says Sizhui again.
“To be fair, Jin Ling shouldn’t even handle a knife. None of you, actually,” Wei Wuxian chimes in, “What if you hurt yourself?”
“Hah? Are you a moron?” Jin Ling demands, “We fight demons on a daily basis and use swords! A mere knife shouldn’t even be a problem.”
“Says the idiot who nearly chopped his hand off while peeling potatoes,” Jingyi mumbles.
“What was that—!”
“Ah, youth these days are so lively,” Wei Wuxian cuts in, “And fearless, too.” He grins slyly, pointing at Lan Wangji. “Don’t you fear the Silencing Spell from this person beside me?”
Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling shut up then.
Sizhui steps in between his friends and places his hands behind their heads. He presses down, effectively forcing them into a bow.
“Again, we—”
“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupts, “What were you doing?”
Jing Ling crosses his arms and turns away while the other two exchange glances. Sizhui is the first one to break the silence.
“We… were cooking something,” he admits—in such a way, Wei Wuxian realizes, that makes it seem like he is confessing a crime. Maybe it is a crime. Gusu Lan is infamous for their bland food after all. Wei Wuxian suddenly wonders if Sizhui and his friends are the ones responsible for the recent meals this time around.
But how and why is Jin Ling in the equation? Wei Wuxian suddenly has a vivid and quite frankly, terrifying vision of Jin Ling defecting to Gusu to rebel against his uncle and Jiang Cheng hot on his heels chasing after Wei Wuxian with Zidian in his hand because Wei Wuxian is responsible for everything that’s wrong in Jiang Cheng’s life, apparently.
He suppresses a shudder. There goes a peaceful afternoon.
“Ho? Cooking what?” he asks instead.
Sizhui hesitates again. Wei Wuxian is beginning to think he’s the one running away, perhaps to Yunmeng, and Wei Wuxian will have Lan Qiren hot on his heels instead.
“Lotus pork rib soup!” Jingyi announces.
This time, it is Wei Wuxian who blinks as a reply. Once. Twice. It is only when Lan Wangji touches the small part of his back that he snaps out of it, his mind scrambling for a reply. It is not often Wei Wuxian of all people is rendered speechless, and the juniors successfully did just that.
“What’s the occasion?” he asks again. His gaze lands on Jin Ling. “Is it your birthday?”
Jin Ling shoots him an annoyed look. “No. My birthday was months ago, and what does lotus pork rib soup have anything to do with it?”
“Ah well. I thought since you were raised in Yunmeng, your uncle would…” Wei Wuxian rubs his neck awkwardly. “I guess not?”
“Uncle doesn’t cook a lot,” Jin Ling answers, “And we have lotus pork rib soup regardless of the occasion.”
“I see.”
Lan Sizhui chooses this moment to step in. “Ah. No. Um. We’re not cooking this for any special occasion,” he clarifies, before his gaze darts away. Perhaps Wei Wuxian is imagining it, but Sizhui seems almost nervous. “Well, there is a reason, but it’s not what you think it is.”
“Goodness, A-Yuan, it’s just soup. Why are you being so secretive about? Come come, spit it out.” Wei Wuxian gives him a sly grin. “Perhaps, is it for a special girl?”
Sizhui turns to him in alarm, waving his hands in front of him defensively, his cheeks already flushing red. It’s almost funny and definitely cute and Wei Wuxian fights the urge to pinch his cheeks and coo at him.
“I-it’s not that!” Sizhui protests.
“Actually,” Jingyi begins, “It’s for y-,”
Both Jin Ling and Sizhui all but slam their hands against Jingyi’s mouth, nearly sending him sprawling to the ground at the sheer force of it. Wei Wuxian holds back a laugh—really, it’s such a funny sight that not laughing would be a crime—but his frame begins to tremble at the effort and he leans against Lan Wangji for support.
“You were saying, Jingyi?” he asks playfully. “A-Yuan, A-Ling, please release him. Poor boy is suffocating.”
“It’s nothing,” Jingyi replies once he is released, shooting Sizhui an apologetic look. “I was mistaken.”
Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow.
“I-,”
“A-ah! HanGuang-Jun, don’t you have classes after this?” Sizhui interrupts. “I remember seeing some junior disciples are waiting for you in the Orchid Room on the way to the kitchen.”
Jingyi furrows his brow in confusion. “He does? We did? I don’t—”
Jin Ling grabs hold of Jingyi’s ear before he can finish his sentence, dragging him into the kitchen, ignoring his yelps of pain. Sizhui’s gaze follows them, his expression resigned. He sighs once, before turning to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “We’ll continue our cooking, then! Please don’t mind us.”
“Please clean up after you’re done,” says Lan Wangji.
“We will. Then, please excuse us.” Sizhui bows once and returns back to the kitchen.
With the juniors gone, Wei Wuxian directs his pout at Lan Wangji. “Hey, Lan Zhan. You don’t really have classes after this, do you?”
Lan Wangji shakes his head. “No. All lessons are done for today.”
“Then, aren’t you curious about what Sizhui is up to? I’ve never seen him fidget so much before.”
“If they’re unwilling to tell, then, we shouldn’t pry.”
“But—”
“It’s against the rules,” Lan Wangji reminds. “Come, let’s go to the library. The sky is growing dark. It might rain.”
Lan Wangji is already pushing him forward as to emphasize his point. Wei Wuxian continues to pout but relents, grabbing Lan Wangji’s hand instead. He grins at him as he laces their fingers together.
“If Lan Zhan says so, then I guess I’ll have to comply, right?”
Lan Wangji grants him a small smile. “Mm.”
They barely make it past the kitchen when Jingyi pokes his head out from the kitchen window, very nearly startling Wei Wuxian in the process. Jingyi is looking at Lan Wangji curiously.
“HanGuang-Jun, if you’re going to the Orchid Room, then may I ask something?” he chirps.
“What is it?”
Lan Jingyi tilts his head, his bangs falling across his eyes.
“Why do you have flowers in your hair?”
Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing.
-
It does end up raining not too long after—in fact, the rain starts to pour down after only 5 minutes since the pair arrived at the library. Lan Wangji has already seated himself by the window, continuing from where he left off in his book. The flowers in his hair have been plucked out, but instead of throwing them away, Lan Wangji places them in a small vase on one of the tables.
There are still tiny braids in his hair, Wei Wuxian notes in amusement.
Wei Wuxian approaches Lan Wangji before flopping himself onto the floor in front of him, moving into a cross-legged position. Leaning forward, he presses his chin against his hand as he regards Lan Wangji silently.
The latter continues to read, as if unaware of Wei Wuxian’s stare boring into him.
“Lan Zhan.”
“Mm.”
Wei Wuxian smiles. “You know, thinking about the juniors cooking reminded me of something, actually.”
Lan Wangji lifts his gaze from his book to look at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian thinks he sees a hint of curiosity on the man’s face.
“What is it?”
Wei Wuxian hums. “When Shijie was sick, Jiang Cheng and I used to try to make lotus pork rib soup for her.”
Lan Wangji’s expression remains unchanged, but there is a slightest of downturn of the corner of his lips. He doesn’t speak, as if urging Wei Wuxian to continue.
The smile on Wei Wuxian’s face turns wistful. “We were ten? Eleven? I don’t quite remember the details, but we were still very young. Young enough that cooking complex meals beyond rice and eggs was a challenge, but we stubbornly wanted to try. Shijie always did the cooking for us, even though she wasn’t that much older than us. When either of us were sick, she’d never fail to cook us lotus root soup. So, we wanted to return the favor.”
Wei Wuxian laughs to himself. “Needless to say, it was a disaster. Jiang Cheng didn’t even know how to peel potatoes without hurting himself, and I actually burned the pot while boiling water! You should’ve seen Madame Yu’s face. She was furious and rightfully so.” A pause. “That incident caused us to be banned from the kitchen for a whole year.”
“Did you manage to make it?”
“Mm?”
“The soup,” Lan Wangji repeats, “Did you manage to?”
Wei Wuxian grins, as if remembering something funny. “Not quite. In the end, Shijie got out from her room to see what the ruckus was about and saw us in our sorry state, being scolded by Madame Yu. In the end, it was her who made the soup a few days later after she got better.” He shakes his head.
“She wanted to cheer us up, even though it should be the other way around.”
“I see.”
There is a beat of silence. Wei Wuxian looks up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the rain pattering against the roof. His fingers curl into a loose fist on the wooden floor.
There is a soft exhale of breath. “Even after all these years, I still miss her,” Wei Wuxian confesses softly. “It’s been over ten years, and yet…” He chews on his bottom lip.
“Ten years isn’t a long time,” Lan Wangji replied quietly. “Not for us.”
Wei Wuxian chuckles softly. “I suppose.” He turns to Lan Wangji. “Hey, Lan Zhan?”
“Yes, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian hesitates. “Your brother told me that you waited for me for the past thirteen years. Throughout those years, was there ever a time where you wish you could just forget me? Forgetting seems like a better alternative to an endless wait, after all.”
Lan Wangji’s face is unreadable. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking that if by some funny twist of fate that our situation was reversed and you’re the one who ended up dying thirteen years ago instead of me, I wonder if I’d wait that long to find your soul.” There is a fleeting vulnerability on Wei Wuxian’s face. “I wonder if I’d choose to forget you, instead of living out the years waiting for something that is uncertain.”
Wei Wuxian looks at his hand. “The reason I’m even alive right now is because Mo Xuanyu willingly gave up his body to me. If that never happened...and my soul continued to wander in this world in fragmented pieces, would you still wait for me, Lan Zhan?”
“Of course.”
Lan Wangji does not hesitate even for a second in answering him, that it surprises Wei Wuxian slightly. He jerks his head up to look at Lan Wangji, his eyes wide.
“Lan Zhan…”
“I’ve waited thirteen years,” Lan Wangji continues, “If I have to wait ten more, it would not be a problem.”
Wei Wuxian smiles weakly. “And if I still didn’t appear then? I can be quite stubborn, you know.”
“I will still wait.”
Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly, startled by his intensity. Something warm spreads through his chest and a lump forms at the back of his throat. He feels the beginning of tears forming in his eyes.
“Ah… Lan Zhan… you…” Wei Wuxian covers his face with his hands. “Why would you choose to wait for me, living with such painful memories when you could always forget me?”
“Because,” Lan Wangji says softly, “You deserve at least one person who remembered you for who you really were, not as the person people thought you were.” He reaches out to grab Wei Wuxian’s hands, pulling them away from his face. He meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze carefully. “I would not forget you, even if I have to live with the pain. If you ask me to wait for you again, I will.”
Wei Wuxian is rendered speechless. A stray tear manages to escape from his eye and he hurriedly wipes it away. He ducks his head, a weak laugh escaping his lips.
“Lan Zhan… you… you always say these kinds of things without warning. How am I supposed to answer?”
Lan Wangji offers a tiny smile. “Mm. No need.” He leans in and nuzzles Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian wraps his arms loosely around Lan Wangji’s shoulders in response, pulling him into an embrace.
“Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. Did you know?” he mumbles against his shoulder.
“Know what, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji murmurs against his hair.
“I love you,” says Wei Wuxian, smile teary but full of love.
There is a soft, warm exhale. “Mn. As do I.”
-
Wei Wuxian doesn’t realize he has fallen asleep until he feels a gentle nudge against his shoulder and he finds himself blearily opening his eyes. He looks around and finds himself leaning against Lan Wangji as they sit on the floor. Lan Wangji is no longer reading; instead, he is now busying himself with writing something on a roll of parchment.
“Mm… Lan Zhan?” he calls out sleepily, instinctively leaning closer against the man. There is a faint smell of sandalwood, mingling nicely with the smell of the rain outside. The rain itself seems to be subsiding, and Wei Wuxian notes that the sky is beginning to clear up. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long,” Lan Wangji replies, “Half an hour or so.”
“Mm.” Wei Wuxian snuggles closer. “You’re really warm. Ha ha. I think I’m feeling sleepy again.”
“Be careful. You’ll get ink on yourself,” Lan Wangji murmurs, wrapping an arm Wei Wuxian to envelope him into a side hug of some sorts, supporting him from leaning too forward.
“What are you writing?”
“A letter. To Yunmeng.”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “Yunmeng? Are you writing to Jiang Cheng?”
“Mn.”
“What for?”
“Corresponding in place of Brother. As a Sect Leader.”
“Ah…” Something wavers in Wei Wuxian’s gaze. “Zewu-Jun… he’s still in seclusion, isn’t he?”
Lan Wangji nods. His expression is unchanging as always, but there is a slight hesitation in his hand movements—pausing a second too long at the end of one character before continuing on the next one.
“How long has it been?”
“It will soon be a year.”
Wei Wuxian’s expression crumbles slightly, peering at Lan Wangji to read his face. He sees nothing that could betray Lan Wangji’s emotions, but truthfully, he doesn’t need any physical signs to guess what he is thinking. Slowly, he reaches for Lan Wangji’s hand, effectively stopping him from writing. That gets Lan Wangji’s attention, who turns to look at him.
Wei Wuxian thinks he sees a question in his gaze.
“What happened to Lianfang-Zun…” he begins, searching for words, “I hope he realizes that none of it is his fault.”
Lan Wangji says nothing, but he pulls Wei Wuxian’s hand to his face, before pressing his cheek against it—a rare gesture of affection that still makes Wei Wuxian’s heart race until today. His skin feels warm against Wei Wuxian’s own.
“I hope so too,” Lan Wangji murmurs.
Wei Wuxian searches his face again. “Zewu-Jun… to Lianfang-Zun…” He hesitates. “Do you think they loved each other?”
Lan Wangji closes his eyes and nods. “There is no doubt that until today, Brother still holds him at high regard.”
“Which makes it more painful, huh?” Wei Wuxian mutters.
“Mm. But Brother will endure. He always does.”
“To endure for love…” Wei Wuxian says wistfully. “I suppose that’s just the way of life.”
The two spend the next few moments in comfortable silence—Lan Wangji deciding to finish his letter while Wei Wuxian is content with just watching him write. From what he reads, it seems that there is a festival in Yunmeng soon, and the Lotus Pier will be open to disciples from all sects throughout the celebration. Wei Wuxian smiles softly.
Perhaps, he could see Jiang Cheng again—a thought that sends an ache through his chest, one he wishes he could both embrace and push away.
He is about to say something when the pair hears a pair of footsteps hurriedly approaching the library. No running in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian thinks with some amusement before straightening his posture and wait for the person to eventually enter the library.
He almost finds it funny that his suspicions on who the person is proven right when Lan Jingyi’s head pokes out from the doorway. There is a sheepish grin on his youthful face, even more so with the stray locks of hair covering one of his eye.
“HanGuang-Jun, Senior Wei,” he chirps. “If you’re not busy, please come to the kitchen quickly!”
-
“Jingyi?”
“Yes, Senior Wei?”
The corner of Wei Wuxian’s lips lift. “Pray tell me why you have your hands covering my eyes?” He takes a careful step forward, his hand warm in Lan Wangji’s. His vision is enveloped in darkness, thanks to Jingyi’s hands placed in front of his eyes. “You already told me what you’re going to cook, so is it still a surprise at this point?”
“Yes, but you don’t know what it looks like!”
“I’d like to think I do, actually.”
“Just please endure it for a moment, Senior Wei,” Lan Jingyi insists, “HanGuang-Jun is guiding you so you won’t trip, don’t worry!”
Wei Wuxian smiles softly. “Well, I do trust him. Don’t I, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji tightens his hold on Wei Wuxian’s hand as a response.
As they walk presumably closer to the kitchen, Wei Wuxian could already smell the familiar scent of the dish he’s very accustomed to. His smile widens, and he finds himself growing excited. He wonders whether this is what Sizhui was trying to hide from him and something warm spreads in his chest at the prospect.
They finally stop walking, and Jingyi uncovers Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Wei Wuxian opens his eyes slowly, blinking rapidly at the sudden assault of light. When his vision focuses, the first thing he sees is the bowl of soup placed on the table in front of him.
Lotus pork rib soup.
“Senior Wei…” Lan Sizhui greets him, with Jin Ling by his side. He nods at Lan Wangji as well. “And HanGuang-Jun.”
“Sizhui, did you make this?” Wei Wuxian asks, leaning forward to look closer at the bowl. The smell of the dish is inviting and achingly familiar.
Sizhui ducks his head, his gaze darting elsewhere. “With Jin Ling and Jingyi, yes. We made it together.”
“I helped a lot, I’ll have you know,” Jin Ling huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s not often I cook for someone else.”
“Or cook, in general,” Jingyi mutters. Jin Ling doesn’t say anything but directs a very heated glare towards him in return.
“It smells wonderful,” Wei Wuxian says in awe. “Doesn’t it, Lan Zhan?”
“It does.”
“Come sit and have a taste!” Jingyi beckons, already pulling out a chair and motioning Wei Wuxian to sit on it. “We worked really hard on it, and Sizhui was really looking forward for you to try it, Senior Wei!” He pauses. “Oh and, we made plenty for HanGuang-Jun, too!”
Wei Wuxian turns to Sizhui. “Is that true, Sizhui? Did you make this specially for me?”
Lan Sizhui has his hands together, his expression shy—further highlighted by the slight flush on his cheeks. It is a rare thing to see Lan Sizhui fluster, and Wei Wuxian feels a surge of fondness looking at the boy in front of him.
Very slowly, Sizhui nods. “That was my intention, yes.”
“Why so suddenly?” Wei Wuxian asks, curious.
“It’s because he wanted to cheer you up, you moron,” Jin Ling intercepts, arms akimbo.
Wei Wuxian blinks, not expecting that answer.
Jin Ling lets out an exasperated breath. “He said you’ve been looking down lately and realized that it’s been a while since you visited Yunmeng.” He hesitates. “I know things are complicated between you and Uncle and he may have realized that you might not be able to visit as often as you’d like… so…” He trails off, fidgeting where he stands.
“What Jin Ling is trying to say is,” Jingyi says with a roll of his eyes, “Sizhui wanted something that reminds you of home.”
Wei Wuxian turns to Sizhui again.
“Si-... A-Yuan…” His expression softens. “Is that true?”
Lan Sizhui nods again, his flush deepening. “It’s strange seeing you so down… and you’ve done so much for me—for us—and I thought, I should—I should return the favor, Somehow.” He plays with his fingers, head ducked. “A-anyway! I’m not sure whether it would be as good as the ones you’re used to, but Jin Ling asked for the recipe from SanDu-ShengShou, and we followed it to the best of our abilities.”
“Sizhui even made a few trial ones,” Jingyi supplies helpfully, “I think they were great, but Mistress Jin here was being picky as usual and Sizhui had to practice over and over again until Jin Ling was satisfied.”
“I know how Uncle’s cooking tastes like the best so if Sizhui wants Wei Wuxian to feel at home, he has to get it as closely as possible!” Jin Ling protests, “Anyway, I think his hard paid off in the end, so,” A glare at Wei Wuxian. “You can’t not like it.”
Wei Wuxian laughs. “I’m not a picky eater, and I’ve had worse, so.” A soft smile at Sizhui. “I’ll have a taste now.”
Sizhui returns the smile and nods. “Please.”
Wei Wuxian takes the spoon in his hand and scoops some soup into it, before bringing it to his lips. The soup smells nice—and terribly familiar—and Wei Wuxian’s heart speeds up at the anticipation of its taste. He hadn’t had much of the famous Yunmeng dish in a while, but he had enough to know what he likes.
Slowly, he takes a sip.
The three juniors waits with bated breath.
There is a sudden beat of silence. Wei Wuxian still has the spoon in his mouth, but he makes no other movements after the first swallow. Lan Sizhui begins to feel anxious and the normally calm Lan disciple starts to fidget where he stands, worry plaguing his heart.
“Senior Wei—”
“Wait,” Lan Wangji says. He peers at his husband, searching his expression. What he sees makes his eyes widen in surprise.
“Wei Ying,” he says, alarmed.
Finally, Wei Wuxian lifts his face for everyone to see. To everyone’s surprise—especially Sizhui because he has seen many expressions on Wei Wuxian but this is the first time for him to see this one—there are steady tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” Jin Ling demands, tone angry to hide how anxious he feels.
“Ack! Is the soup that bad?” Jingyi wonders.
Sizhui meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze carefully. “Senior Wei…” he stammers. “Is it… Is it no good?”
Wei Wuxian shakes his head, and wipes away his tears with a shaky laugh. Abruptly, he reaches out towards Sizhui, his hand patting the boy’s head. Sizhui stills, too shocked at the sudden gesture to properly react.
“You silly child,” Wei Wuxian begins, his smile teary. “The soup’s wonderful. I just…” He wipes another tear with his sleeve, before sighing. “I just... I was overwhelmed by nostalgia, that’s all.”
And how intense the nostalgia was. It was so overwhelming that it nearly shakes Wei Wuxian to the core. The taste brings him back to the old days in Yunmeng, when everyone was younger, happier, free from all burdens. It reminds him of the days hunting peasants and shooting kites in the sky and running away from Jiang Cheng’s threats to break his legs—which unfortunately, are now directed to Jin Ling—and even the bittersweet memories of Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu.
The taste reminds him of his beloved shijie, who waited for his return from Gusu, the first one he saw after waking up from the ordeal at the Turtle Demon’s Cave, and the one who tended his wounds—both physical and emotional. She shielded him from many things, from her mother’s harsh words to the society’s ruthless perception of him. And when she needed him the most, he—
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. There is no need to think of such things. Not anymore.
“Wei Ying,” murmurs Lan Wangji, covering his hand with his own. “Are you okay?”
Wei Wuxian nods, closing his eyes.
“More than okay.” He opens his eyes to gaze warmly at the junior disciples and his husband. “I feel greatly loved.”
-
It is hours later—long after the rain has stopped and the sun has set and Jin Ling has left for his temporary quarters next to Jingyi’s (“I’m staying the night!” the boy has exclaimed, much to the amusement of the people around him)—that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have some time alone to spend with Lan Sizhui.
Said disciple is busy pouring tea for his two seniors, kneeling respectfully by their side as they accept the cups of tea from his hands.
“A-Yuan, look!” says Wei Wuxian excitedly, pointing at the night sky, “It’s the full moon. Ah, it’s been so long since we’ve seen one here in Gusu.”
Sizhui follows his gaze. “It has,” he agrees, “Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve properly looked at the night sky.”
“Aiya, A-Yuan. You need to relax and enjoy your surroundings a bit more. Or else you’ll grow stiff like Lan Zhan’s uncle here.”
Lan Wangji sips his tea in response, his silence not indicating any agreement nor protest about the statement. Wei Wuxian prefers taking silence as a sign of the former. Lan Sizhui allows a small laugh slip past his lips, stopping himself before it goes too far. He coughs once, before he lifts his own cup of tea.
“I will,” he promises, “Maybe when we are less busy with things.”
“It’s good to be young. You get to do many things at once,” Wei Wuxian muses, “But it’s good to unwind sometimes, you know. Enjoy the scenery.”
“Yes,” Sizhui agrees.
The three continue to moongaze for a while, enjoying the silence, before Wei Wuxian turns to Sizhui once more, his expression cheekier than before. Beside him, Lan Wangji sips his tea—almost conspiringly, as if he is expecting something. Sizhui has a bad feeling settling in his heart all of a sudden.
“Hey, A-Yuan?” Wei Wuxian begins.
“Yes, Senior Wei?”
The cheeky glint in Wei Wuxian’s eyes grows. “Speaking of youth, you’re at that age already, aren’t you?” He elbows Sizhui gently, yet teasingly. “Surely you have a special person by now, haven’t you?”
Sizhui’s face turns the same shade as the red tea in his hands—perhaps even more so.
“S-Senior Wei!” he splutters, nearly dropping his cup.
“Come on, don’t be shy! Lan Zhan here was your age when he fell in love with me. Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji takes one more sip of his tea.
“See? He agrees!” Wei Wuxian points out triumphantly.
“HanGuang-Jun, is what Senior Wei saying true?” Sizhui asks, peering around Wei Wuxian to look at Lan Wangji.
There is a small pause.
Another sip of tea, alongside with the slight reddening of the tip of Lan Wangji’s ears. Wei Wuxian grins at Sizhui, who sighs in defeat. He supposes there is nothing he can argue against that kind of reaction. Wei Wuxian is right about many things and one of them is how Lan Wangji’s heart is more honest than his words.
Awkwardly, Lan Sizhui scratches his cheek, avoiding eye contact.
“I’m not sure about a special person but…” he begins slowly.
Just then, the three hears the sound of a window creaking open from nearby, and look up just in time to see Jin Ling poking out his head from his bedroom window from the building next to them. His hair tumbles down his shoulders and frames one side of his face as he peers outside for a moment before turning towards them.
When he spots Sizhui among them, he opens his mouth as if to speak.
“Sizhui! Are you done?” he all but yells. Forget Lan Qiren and his bat ears—perhaps all of Gusu could hear the young sect leader of the Lanling Jin Sect, “You promised we’d talk for a bit later!”
Sizhui sighs. He puts a finger to his lips towards Jin Ling, and the boy immediately stops speaking, even covering his mouth as if realizing his mistake.
“I’ll be there soon, Jin Ling,” he calls out, loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to break any rules. Jin Ling seems satisfied by this and retreats back into his room before closing the window.
Sizhui places the teapot near his two seniors. “Do you need anything else?” he asks.
Wei Wuxian waves his hand dismissively. “We’ll be fine. Go play with your friend.”
Sizhui nods. “Then, I’ll take my leave.” He slowly rises to his feet, and just before he leaves, Wei Wuxian manages to catch the small movement he makes—one he probably thinks Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to not catch.
A small tug of his forehead ribbon, while his gaze is trained towards the direction where Jin Ling was.
A slow smile creeps onto Wei Wuxian’s face.
“Hey, A-Yuan?”
“Yes, Senior Wei?”
“I think you’ve found your special person after all, haven’t you?” Wei Wuxian asks knowingly. Beside him, Lan Wangji puts his cup down, and graces Sizhui with a tiny, but gentle smile, as if voicing out the same sentiments.
Sizhui flushes again, before hurriedly bowing and walking quickly away from the scene. Wei Wuxian lets out a chuckle as he watches him go, a sort of fondness settling on his handsome features. He feels something cool enveloping him, and finds himself being pulled into a side hug by Lan Wangji.
“Mm, Lan Zhan?”
“Come closer. It’s cold,” murmurs Lan Wangji.
“Such a caring person you are,” Wei Wuxian replies playfully but moves to snuggle against his husband regardless.
“Hey, Lan Zhan.”
”Yes, Wei Ying?”
Wei Wuxian hums softly. “Everyone and everything around us change as the time pass by, don’t they?”
“Mn. It’s a natural thing for them to.”
“And as they change,” Wei Wuxian continues, “Love changes alongside them.” He takes Lan Wangji’s hand into his own, before playing with his long fingers. “The love we feel towards others—it changes its shape as we grow. Among family. Among friends.. Even,” A warm look towards Lan Wangji. “Even among people who once didn’t get along.”
Lan Wangji tightens his hold on Wei Wuxian.
“I guess what fascinates me is that… no matter what form love takes shape as… it’s still love in the end. Despite our differences, we usually have something in common.” A soft exhale. “Most of us, if not all, love something or…”
Wei Wuxian moves his head to press a soft kiss on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Someone,” he finishes. “And I’m grateful for this.”
There is a short pause.
“Wei Ying.”
“Yes, Lan Zhan?”
Wei Wuxian feels Lan Wangji’s finger tip his chin forward, so that his face is closer to his own. He could feel Lan Wangji’s warm breath against his skin, and the familiar scent of sandalwood drifts into his nose.
The corners of Lan Wangji’s lips lift into a rare smile—one that never fails to knock Wei Wuxian’s breathless each time he sees it.
“I love you, Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji softly, like a private promise between the two of them. “My first and only.”
Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, feeling the beginning of tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Ever so slowly, he nods.
“Mn. As do I, Lan Zhan,” he answers sincerely, before leaning in for a kiss.
Name: Kiichi Twitter: chunnyyii
Name: Mel
Twitter: tennssi0907
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