Chapter Text
In the days that follow both Lan Xichen’s offer for Jiang Cheng’s hand and their marriage, the Lotus Pier becomes a garden.
Their residence no longer just befits its name. Every single table and piece of furniture in the living quarters of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect drowns under a symphony of coloured petals, from Jiang Cheng’s personal desk in his office and childhood bedroom, down to the dining area and the banquet room where they haven’t entertained in a while in spite of the recent festivities.
At first, everyone had thought nothing more of the display that as a lovely courting gift from the first Twin Jade of Lan. Jiang Cheng himself, to everyone’s surprise including Wei Wuxian’s, didn’t have the heart to refuse nor to have his intended put an end to it. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even like flowers, had never found it in him to fully appreciate them either. Too maidenly, he used to say, even as he clutched every bouquet to his chest like a lioness its cubs, with a fierce love and possessiveness that was quite endearing – a fact that never fails to amount to threats of breaking Wei Wuxian’s legs, whenever it is brought up.
After a while it became more of a hassle to handle, with complaints shared but never openly spoken from not simply everyone in the household, but also people of Yunmeng themselves. The phenomenon itself had initially not been expected. Many civilians had found a silver lining in the new labours that Lan Xichen’s passion for his husband had brought in the city, spurring many folks to become messengers if only for the chance to receive substantial revenues from the Lan Sect heir. It was undeniable that in the span of a few months, Lan Xichen had done far more for the economy of Yunmeng than any trader in town.
However, it became also equally mortifying for the many Yunmeng florists who, after the initial thrill of competing against each other for the chance of getting Zewu-Jun’s attention – and the similarly appealing contents of his money pouch – had to refuse any order coming from him after he had bought every single flower available. Business survived as best as it could, but it had been progressively dwindling away, what with Lan Xichen only leaving them with the flowers that carried the most unfortunate meanings – increasing the suffering of wives and matchmakers alike. Not only did it mean that florists had to find other means of living and Lan Xichen now needed to visit neighbouring towns to get bouquets for his beloved.
It also meant that Wei Wuxian wasn’t getting any.
“Another one?” he teases Jiang Cheng with feigned nonchalance when a servant comes inside his office, his legs and arms the only visible parts of his body as the bouquet he carries shields him entirely. He almost trips a few times on the carpet on his way to handing Jiang Cheng his husband’s latest gift.
Jiang Cheng glares at him, but the effect is lost on him, his cheeks growing redder as he takes the bouquet without preamble, and buries his face in the flowers. He is much too close to them to just be smelling them, and Wei Wuxian knows he must have been hiding his furious blush, either due to being flustered or wholly besotted. Given that his brother doesn’t mumble a “shut up” in the flower petals, Wei Wuxian’s mind goes for the latter.
Three months ago, Jiang Cheng would never have let him get away with a word of it. Marriage has certainly changed him.
“Wait your turn,” Jiang Cheng mutters upon resurfacing from the bouquet, sniffing softly – Wei Wuxian mentally reminds himself to send for some tea and honey. Spring only made pollen more potent than usual, and it wouldn’t do for his brother to contract allergies, or worse, in the middle of his honeymoon.
“What was that, dear brother?” Wei Wuxian chuckles as Jiang Cheng sneezes a little, repressing the urge to coo over his sworn brother unless he suffer the consequences of his teasing. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at him, though the way the corners of his mouth lifted betrays him.
“Don’t think you will be exempted of all of this,” Jiang Cheng says, tugging one of the flowers free from the white satin ribbon that holds the arrangement together, and nudging it against his face. Wei Wuxian blinks and makes to move away, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t relent and brushes a flower of a lovely purple shade, close to his nose. Wei Wuxian’s nose scrunches, and the pollen causes him to sneeze too. Yet even as he pushes away the flower gently, he can’t help but marvel at how silky the petals feel against his skin and under his fingertips, and how fragrant and fresh it is without being pungent.
Wei Wuxian huffs in amusement. “I highly doubt it. Unless your husband,” he stresses, delighting in the faint blush that colours Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, “wishes to fight Lan Wangji for the right to steal all of China’s flowers. Which, as entertaining as it sounds, will simply not do, dear brother. I have faith in Hanguang-Jun’s abilities with a sword, but I’d rather not wake up one morning to be told you husband and my fiancé recklessly died after challenging each other in a duel.”
The expression on Jiang Cheng’s face soften as he chuckles, then hums in agreement.
“That is quite unlikely,” Jiang Cheng muses, bringing the flowers close to him again. “Them duelling, that is,” he clarifies, gazing back at him. “I can’t possibly think of anything that would cause a dispute between them. On the other hand, we both know that Lan Wangji will absolutely spoil you rotten.” He raises an eyebrow playfully at him, delighting in seeing Wei Wuxian’s own cheeks flush a light pink. “Not that he hasn’t already.”
“Hush you,” Wei Wuxian mutters without fire. “Lan Wangji would never do something this extravagant.”
Jiang Cheng clearly doesn’t believe a single word he says, from the look in his eye alone. “You forget that we are talking about a member of the Lan sect. They may be cold on the outside, but they are far more passionate than any other man you will ever meet in your entire life.”
Wei Wuxian only shrugs in response. “I trust that he is as fond of me as I am of him. I just don’t think that he would go as far as to send me enough bouquets to fill ten funeral parlours.”
Jiang Cheng’s smiles fades slightly at the imagery, though it doesn’t lose its softness. His free hand comes to rest on his shoulders, patting it gently.
“You miss him, don’t you?” his brother murmurs, his words loud in the silence of his office. It is barely even a question; Jiang Cheng is the one person who knows him better than anyone else does, apart from his shijie and his future husband.
Wei Wuxian sighs dejectedly, and leans into him. Jiang Cheng embraces him with a one-armed hug.
It has been a week since Lan Wangji left him on his lonesome, gone for a few days ago to settle some political matters in Gusu Lan. Normally this task would have gone to Lan Xichen, as the rightful first heir of the Gusu Lan Sect. But it seemed that the elders, in a rare bout of generosity, had decided to give him some temporary peace of mind for the timebeing, enough for him to enjoy the first few weeks of his honeymoon before having to separate from Jiang Cheng.
It isn’t to say that Wei Wuxian resents him or his husband, always present and tending to his every whim. Wei Wuxian had never been happier for his brother since his wedding, and he would be the last person to begrudge his hard-earned happiness after years of solitude. Which makes Wei Wuxian all the more reluctant to admit that he feels relatively envious of his sworn brother in moments such as these. It isn’t that Jiang Chang doesn’t deserve these open displays of affection. After all the years Jiang Cheng had spent trying to please his father as the heir of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, heaven knows he needs respite and shows of love and fondness.
He only wishes Lan Wangji were just as present and open with his own affections as his brother-in-law. Wei Wuxian has no need for things as fickle as flowers, but he is honest enough with himself to admit that he wouldn’t mind receiving some. Perhaps not at a similar pace as Jiang Cheng does, but often enough to feel appreciated.
It isn’t to say that Lan Wangji lacks any love for him. His fiancé is a man of few words, preferring to act upon his instincts rather than wasting time with needless eloquence. To an outsider, his letters are no more than a few sentences to assure his intended that he is well and far away. But to Wei Wuxian, who had spent the past few months studying his husband-to-be, any demonstration of fondness was sure to hold all of the tenderness Lan Wangji was capable of. Thinking of them is enough to make pleasant shivers run sown his spine.
But in spite of everything, Wei Wuxian’s fiancé remains as closed off as ever, both in company and during their private moments. It is to be expected, given Lan Wangji’s closed-off personality, but alphas that don’t dote on their mate, especially in the midst of courting, are very much unheard of. It makes Wei Wuxian worry slightly as to the manner in which it shall reflect in the state of their household, or – he swallows just thinking about it – their bond. The last thing he wants is to have a rocky relationship with his future husband due to their already conflicting, but complementing personalities. Living in the same space as the person one loved the most was one aspect of marriage. Bearing a spouse’s bite, and being perpetually conscious of what crossed their mate’s mind, was an entirely different scenario.
To an extent, he almost envies Jiang Cheng for not having to worry about such trivial things. Although Lan Xichen was more than capable of leaving a physical mark on Jiang Cheng, this kind of bite would always fade with time, nothing but a mere sign of possessiveness on the alpha’s part. Besides, the two of them communicated so well they had no need for different secondary genders to complete each other so well.
He is about to comment just as much when the disciple from earlier – or is it another one? He hadn’t even had the time to see who it was before they had rushed out – strides hurriedly in the room, startling both men from their embrace. Jiang Cheng doesn’t have the time to yell at him to mind his manners before the poor man, white as a sheet and sweating profusely, dares to speak.
“Ha – Hanguang-Jun is here to – to see you, Young Master Wei,” he stutters, and quickly exits the office with as much rapidity as he had entered. Wei Wuxian barely has the time to assimilate his words before the next person crosses the threshold, and Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat.
The familiar scent of sandalwood, incense and peonies reaches him first, and then he sees him. Lan Wangji looks as regal and pristine as he remembers him, clad in the fine white robes of the Gusu Lan sect. In spite of the duration of the journey he must have undertaken to get from Gusu to Yunmeng, his fiancé didn’t appear to be frazzled in the slightest.
He looks around the room for a few seconds, indubitably taking in the array of flowers that seem to have taken root overnight in all corners of the Lotus Pier, and after a while his eyes set on Wei Wuxian. From where he sits he can tell that his amber eyes soften when they see him, and he catches the almost imperceptible twitch of his lips. Wei Wuxian answers him with a smile of his own, feeling relief at the sight of his alpha, who has finally returned to him.
“Lan Wangji,” he greets him, almost dazed by his presence. He sits up to bow to him, rising so fast from his seat that his legs feel like they will give out from under him any minutes from now. He doesn’t miss the way Jiang Chengs snickers not so subtly behind him. Lan Wangji, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice it, eyes solely focused on him.
“Wei Ying,” he says, and oh, he can tell that his cheeks, and probably the rest of his face, have turned red or pink if the sudden warmth that overcomes him is any indication. Lan Wangji had taken to calling him by his birth name when they had started courting, and took pleasure in using it everytime he had the chance. Most of the time it occurred in private, far from the prying eyes of their families or of strangers; and with what little time they had been afforded together prior to Lan Wangji’s return to the Cloud Recesses, and always in the company of chaperones, Wei Wuxian feels as if he hadn’t heard his voice and the particular way in which he named him in far too long.
They stare at each other for what feels like minutes rather than seconds, until the silence between them is shattered by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Wei Wuxian nearly startles while Lan Wangji slowly turns to Jiang Cheng, who looks very amused by the small commotion he has created.
“Hanguang-Jun,” Jiang Cheng bows to his future brother-in-law. Lan Wangji bows back, the strands framing his face falling just enough for him to see that his earlobes have turned a bright pink. They disappear when Lan Wangji rises again, but the sense of awkwardness lingers still, if the slump of his shoulders is any indication.
“If you will excuse me, I shall take my leave from you now. Lan Wangji, brother,” Jiang Cheng says as he bows to Lan Wangji again, then nods quickly at him. No sooner does he bid them farewell that he brushes past Hanguang-Jun to exit the room, but not without giving Wei Wuxian a look. There is amusement in those grey eyes of his, tinged with something that appears to be… curiosity?
Wei Wuxian dares then to take a look at Lan Wangji’s hands, only to find that he has moved a few steps closer to him, and is clasping what looks to be the most peculiar bouquet Wei Wuxian has ever seen in his entire life. In fact, it looks nothing like any bouquet Wei Wuxian had come across in the past weeks. While the plants in question have a fairly average looking stem, the stalks are deprived of petals, leaving only green circles that are themselves marred by black, bead-like spheres.
He must have been staring at them for a while, for Lan Wangji coughs softly, his hands somewhat trembling as they clasp the arrangement. He looks, Wei Wuxian thinks fondly, endearingly shy when he looks back at him.
“I saw these on my way to the Lotus Pier,” he states simply, edging closer to Wei Wuxian and lifting the strange bouquet to his level so that he may take it. Wei Wuxian reaches towards him blindly, his breath stuttering softly when their fingers touch, then separate. Looking up again, Lan Wangji’s earlobes are a darker shade than earlier, almost bordering on red.
“You mentioned that you liked them best fresh,” Lan Wangji adds, confusing Wei Wuxian even more, until he looks down at his fiancé’s gift, and gasps in recognition.
It isn’t a bouquet of lowers, but of lotus seed pods, and fresh ones!
“You remembered?” Wei Wuxian can’t help but ask, his excitement seeping in his tone and causing the slump in Lan Wangji’s shoulders to relax. He looks much more relieved than when he had first stepped inside the room. But how does he know about this, Wei Wuxian wonders. Perhaps he had mentioned in passing once while they were conversing that he liked lotus seeds, and especially loved to swim in the lake surrounding Lotus Pier to pick them when it was the season. But he hadn’t expected his fiancé to recall this particular detail, mundane as it was.
Lan Wangji nods, though his heads tilts a little to the side, as it often does when he is faced with a question that doesn’t seem very obvious for him to answer, or when something confuses him. It is one of those ticks that make Wei Wuxian want to ruffle his hair – which he won’t, of course, for the sake of propriety.
“How could I forget something that you hold dear?” Lan Wangji simply answers as if it were the most elementary thing in the world, and it makes something burst in Wei Wuxian’s chest, to the point where he feels the need to blink to dispel the familiar burn of tears in his eyes.
It takes everything in Wei Wuxian not to drop the arrangement and throw himself in the arms of his alpha. Instead, he hides his face in the – rather heavy – bouquet, which does very little to hide the blush rising on his cheekbones. From behind the lotus seed pods, he catches the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth.
There are things, he muses, that are sometimes just better than flowers.