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As he promised, Wen Ning brings A-Yuan back to Gusu Lan once their family's ashes have been properly laid to rest. He feels lighter than he has in a long time, and not only in the way where there is a cavity in his chest where the skin and bone crumbled and disappeared. There is comfort in his existence now: Wei Wuxian, who is dear to him, is alive and happy, and not angry with him for choosing his own path; A-Yuan, who is precious and was long lost, is someone he can protect and watch over.
And A-Yuan's friends, strangely, seem to accept him, not as the weapon of a great diabolist but as a person. Jin Ling is most wary around him, for obvious reasons, but even he doesn't protest having Wen Ning keep them company when the young men dine together or go night-hunting or sit around in somebody's room to chat about frivolous things.
One of those nights, as the four of them are sitting around the table having their supper and Wen Ning is imagining the taste of food, Lan Jingyi appears to be bursting with a need to share some news. A-Yuan ignores him politely, attention on his soup, but Ouyang Zizhen is less restrained. "Lan Jingyi, what's gotten into you? You clearly have something on your mind."
"Don't," Jin Ling says in the despairing tone of voice he uses when he expects nobody to listen.
Lan Jingyi's face lights up. "You know that book we bought in town last week? Well—"
"—and I want your expert opinion on whether it's actually possible."
Wei Wuxian has a goblin's grin, full of mischief. "Only about half the things you read in books like that are possible," he says, "but not the half you expect."
"There's a bit in it where the emperor is growing sickly," Lan Jingyi says, "and his physician orders him to find some strong young men to, uh. Give him their yang energy."
"Oh?" Wei Wuxian says, looking interested but like he's waiting for more.
"Don't make him say it!" Jin Ling snaps. Wei Wuxian just keeps a straight face.
"By fucking him," Lan Jingyi says, partly just to hear the noise Jin Ling makes. "Is that a real thing for healing?"
"Just any young man off the street, not cultivators?" Wei Wuxian looks thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think so. They wouldn't have raised their own energy levels high enough to be beneficial, and wouldn't have the self-control necessary to direct more than the usual amount of yang energy into their release."
"There," Jin Ling says, tugging on Lan Jingyi's sleeve. "You have your answer, now—"
"What if they were cultivators?"
"Well." Wei Wuxian's eyes sparkle. "Lan Zhan and I—"
"And that's when Jin Ling swore he would be sick if we didn't leave right that very instant, loudly enough that Hanguang-jun could hear from the next room, so I didn't get a proper answer!"
A-Yuan shakes his head with a little smile, and Ouyang Zizhen makes a noise of outrage.
"I don't want to hear about what that man does in bed!" Jin Ling protests.
"Or against the wall," Lan Jingyi says, "or on a table..."
"Or on the rooftops sometimes," Wen Ning contributes helpfully.
Jin Ling howls and hides his face in his sleeves. Wen Ning wonders if he should apologize.
"From those objections, though, it sounds like it should work if cultivators tried it," Ouyang Zizhen says. For some reason he's looking at Wen Ning. "Like, if we had somebody that we wanted to restore."
A-Yuan sits up straighter. "Ning-ge," he says. "Fierce corpses don't heal like living people because they're unbalanced in the direction of yin. But if a damaged fierce corpse could be infused with strong yang energy..."
"It's never been tried, as far as I know," Wen Ning says. His memory of the time when he was being controlled is hazy at best, so he can't be sure, but it doesn't seem like something Xue Yang would have done. Healing was far from a priority for that man.
"We could—that is, I could," A-Yuan says, and hesitates.
"We," Ouyang Zizhen says. "I would help. I want to know if it's possible."
"Seriously?" Lan Jingyi says. "You want to," he makes some complicated hand motions, "with..."
The weight of their gazes makes Wen Ning feel awkward as he realizes just what they're not saying. "You—you don't need, ah, I'm, it's not s-serious, I still f-function..." If he were able to blush he knows he would be doing so now, and even as a fierce corpse he can't help hunching down into himself, as if he could hide between his own shoulders like a turtle.
"But if someone wanted to," A-Yuan says, "would you... like to try?"
"Mn," Wen Ning says.
It takes another day for Wen Ning to be certain he can allow this, and then two more days after that for the young cultivators to do the 'research' that Lan Jingyi says is necessary, and then they set a date for two nights after that, in A-Yuan's room—because A-Yuan is the one most certain he wants to be involved, and anyone else can show up or not without pressure.
Somehow, all the others turn up despite that easy out, piling into A-Yuan's little room, wide-eyed, so full of nervous energy that Wen Ning can feel it. They look at each other and at him and nobody seems to know quite what to do now that they're here.
His heart should be pounding, but it can't. "H-how do we begin?"
"I think you should undress," A-Yuan says. "Don't worry. It's going to be fine."
If he pretends he's just undressing for Wei Wuxian to examine him, it's easier. His body is a tool that should be kept in good condition. Sometimes that means it needs to be scrutinized. Manipulated. Wen Ning strips off his clothes, methodically, not looking at A-Yuan or any of his friends. Someone gasps at the sight of his back, where some of his death wounds had to be stitched back together. He doesn't think they'd like to get a good look at his chest the way it is now. The hole in it is deep and dark, the broken edges of his rib bones slightly blunted by now but still ragged.
He lies down on A-Yuan's bed, on his belly, pillowing his head on his arms. "Go ahead."
A-Yuan sits down at the head of the bed beside him, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm here with you," he says, which is all backward when half the time Wen Ning still thinks of him as the child he was thirteen years ago. Now A-Yuan has grown up, while time didn't seem to pass at all for Wen Ning.
"Should I start?" Ouyang Zizhen's voice, as uncertain as Wen Ning feels.
"Go on." Lan Jingyi. "Show us how it's done."
Ouyang Zizhen climbs onto the foot of the bed, pushing Wen Ning's legs apart so he can kneel between them. There are movement sounds, then a pause, then more cloth rustling, and then oiled fingers touching Wen Ning between the cheeks of his ass. He heard gossip about this sort of thing back before...everything, and of course he's caught glimpses of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji when they're particularly indiscreet, but that's as close to experience as he's gotten. There's pressure, and then—
"Ah," Wen Ning says quietly as he's penetrated in a way that doesn't do his body any harm. He feels some pressure but little else; his nerves are less sensitive than a living man's.
"Good ah or bad ah?" Ouyang Zizhen asks. He's stopped moving.
"It's very unlikely you'll harm me," Wen Ning reassures him. After all, Wei Wuxian's body can handle this with no ill effects—and apparently quite enjoyable ones—and a living man is far less sturdy than a high-level fierce corpse. "Please continue."
"You got it." Ouyang Zizhen's hand starts to move again, his fingers exploring and stretching. Lan Jingyi sidles closer to the bed as if he wants to get a better look. Jin Ling does not.
"I think you're ready," Ouyang Zizhen says after a few minutes. "That feels... like it should work."
Wen Ning nods, and A-Yuan takes his hand. It's unclear which of them he wants to reassure with the gesture.
Ouyang Zizhen withdraws his fingers and moves again, shifting position, stretching out over Wen Ning's back. His cock presses where his fingers just were. The pressure increases, and Wen Ning feels opened, space being created inside him specifically to be filled in the next moment—and Ouyang Zizhen groans, low and heartfelt, almost as though it hurts.
"How does he feel?" Lan Jingyi whispers.
"So tight," Ouyang Zizhen answers, soft and reverent. This would be another good time for Wen Ning to blush if he could. He knows that's a compliment, something men prize in their partners, and he's glad that if these bright young men—his friends—are willing to try something like this to help him, they can get some enjoyment out of it, too.
Ouyang Zizhen moves then, rocking inside him, the pressure shifting with each stroke. Wen Ning still can't feel it very much, but the pressure is not unpleasant, and A-Yuan is holding his hand, and Ouyang Zizhen's breath puffs warm against his nape, and those are all good things.
"Don't forget to focus," A-Yuan murmurs.
"Easy for you to say," Ouyang Zizhen says, breathless as though this is taking a lot of exertion for him—but his breathing changes tempo and Wen Ning can feel the swelling of not-physical warmth within his body. If he stretches out his senses further he can feel all four of them, the bright flames of their golden cores arranged around him, the vital energy he lost in death that they're now offering to share. He makes a soft noise himself, overcome for a moment by that generosity.
A-Yuan's thumb brushes over his fingers. "Does it feel good?"
"Not the way it does for normal people, probably," Wen Ning says. "But yes. It does." He smiles, because A-Yuan knows him well enough to be able to see what he's trying to do instead of what his flesh struggles to show.
"I can't believe you're just watching," Jin Ling whispers, probably thinking he's quiet enough not to be overheard.
"I can't believe you're not," Lan Jingyi retorts, loud enough that he clearly doesn't care. "Isn't learning by example better than trying to see what's going on in cheap books with smudged illustrations?"
"Do not start bickering now, either of you," Ouyang Zizhen insists. He's trembling faintly, moving faster, and the power is gathering in him as he does so. Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling listen to him without complaint, falling silent and—Wen Ning glances over—watching wide-eyed. The gathering power prickles and buzzes gently across Wen Ning's skin and he finds that he's tensing too, in anticipation of receiving it.
Ouyang Zizhen makes a low, sharp sound and pulses inside Wen Ning's body and then it happens—that hot, lively energy flows into him, filled with only good wishes, bathing chilled flesh in its warmth. Wen Ning moans too, stunned by the cascade of sensations: first the infusion of yang energy itself, then by the waking of dulled nerves that follows. He can feel more than he has in years, since Wei Wuxian first awakened him.
"Thank you," he says, "thank you, Ouyang Zizhen, that's amazing."
"Pretty much what every man wants to hear," Ouyang Zizhen says. He sits back, withdrawing, and even that feels more intense than it did before. "How do you feel?"
"Good," Wen Ning says. "Excellent. But, ah." He studies his and A-Yuan's intertwined hands, unable to meet anyone's eyes as he says, "I think more would be, would be beneficial."
"Good thing we all showed up," Lan Jingyi says. "Move over, Zizhen."
They change places, and Wen Ning spreads his legs a little wider to give Lan Jingyi room to move. A-Yuan's other hand runs through his hair and he leans into that touch, more able to feel it than he would have been just an hour earlier. They're so good to him.
When Lan Jingyi pushes in, Wen Ning sighs in contentment and arches back to meet him. Lan Jingyi swears like he's impressed.
He does it differently than Ouyang Zizhen did, a quicker tempo, a less regular rhythm. Maybe it's because it's less predictable, and maybe it's because he has more sensation now, but Wen Ning finds himself paying more attention. He thinks he can see this friction and fullness being pleasurable for a living man. And he can feel the rising tide of energy in Lan Jingyi's body, the concentrated force made possible by the golden core.
He's moving again, he realizes. He's pushing back toward each stroke as Lan Jingyi fills him, trying to encourage that tide to peak and spill over into him. It feels so strange to feel this—this desire, when he's had so few needs of his own for so long.
He's so focused on this strange discovery of feeling that he barely notices Lan Jingyi is speaking, whispering ragged filthy praise above him—telling him how tight he is, how good it feels, how easy he is to take. There's no way Wen Ning could answer him without stammering helplessly but it seems like Lan Jingyi doesn't need him to reply, like the words are just an incantation for his own benefit to help the energy build.
And it works even without Wen Ning having the presence of mind to contribute; Lan Jingyi climaxes and the energy of it pours into Wen Ning's flesh and he cries out in wonder as his nerves sing.
"You're really getting into this," Lan Jingyi says, gone still but not yet withdrawing from him.
"I want to keep going," Wen Ning confesses. "It feels—I can feel so much." He looks up at A-Yuan. "I didn't know this was possible."
"I don't think anyone did," A-Yuan says, smiling down at him so warmly.
Jin Ling huffs sharply. "You're done, Jangyi, get out of the way."
Wen Ning's eyes go wide in surprise, and they actually can, his face moving the way he tells it to, and he looks over just in time to see Jin Ling pulling his robes out of the way and climbing onto the bed. There's a throbbing in his chest where that blow fell, and he thinks it may be as much an emotional response as the yang energy knitting his flesh.
He thinks it might be easier to contribute to the motion if he gets his knees under himself, so he does that as Jin Ling is settling behind him. "Oh," Jin Ling says. "I can't believe..." But he doesn't keep going, like he doesn't find it any easier to talk about these things than Wen Ning does.
"Please," Wen Ning says. "I would be grateful."
Jin Ling makes a sound like he's dismayed, but he presses against Wen Ning's opening all the same, and Wen Ning pushes slowly back to feel him sink in. It feels like it would be impossible to stay silent and he's truly not even trying, making soft, wondering noises at the feel of being stretched and filled, at being able to feel himself stretched and filled. Jin Ling's hands grip his hips, tight, directing the pace, and he's happy to cooperate.
"Do you think," A-Yuan asks softly, "do you think—it has to be done that way? I mean, could someone give it to you by mouth?"
"I would try," Wen Ning says immediately. They're discovering this together, after all.
"Good," A-Yuan says, rising onto his knees and unfastening his clothes with shaking hands. "You're so beautiful and I don't want to keep waiting."
Wen Ning is speechless. He hadn't thought that was even a consideration, but here's A-Yuan already hard when he takes himself out of his underclothes, pressing stiff hot flesh to Wen Ning's lips fearlessly.
And of course there is nothing for him to fear; Wen Ning would never do him harm. He opens his mouth to let A-Yuan fill it, holding his jaw stretched wide so his teeth won't be in the way. He can actually taste it faintly, a sharp saltiness whose novelty is fascinating.
Being between the two of them, feeling their heat and life intrude into him from two directions, is almost dizzying. Wen Ning moans, and A-Yuan strokes his hair, and Jin Ling holds on tight. They match tempos after a few strokes, push-pulling him between them, and it's almost meditative, almost musical. He's going to be overwhelmed by them and he welcomes it.
A-Yuan gives it to him first, spilling into his mouth and the taste is so heady he's stunned, but he's swallowing as the rush of energy makes everything smell and taste and feel more vibrant—and then Jin Ling follows only moments later, the two waves of yang energy meeting behind Wen Ning's ribs, where his own golden core once was, and he cries out, overwhelmed by how intense it is, how much he feels all at once.
He's dizzy when they pull out and help him to sit up, dizzy and whole and hard. He looks from one of them to another, finds all four of them staring at him in surprise and admiration. As if he's the one who's done anything remarkable here!
"Ning-ge," A-Yuan says. He slides a hand up Wen Ning's thigh. "Is this a new development?"
Wen Ning nods. "It seems that, ah, there are more effects than we realized."
"Mn." A-Yuan doesn't take his hand away. It's warm.
"Do you want help with that too?" Ouyang Zizhen asks, almost too casually.
"With—?" Wen Ning looks down at his lap, then back up. If they keep doing this, will he become able to blush again? Will they make him so accustomed to scandalous things that he won't need to anymore?
"It would be discourteous to just leave you like that," Jin Ling says, looking at the wall.
"Ah." Wen Ning tries a smile and for once it works just fine. "Then I would be grateful for your assistance."