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It would be fair to say that Wen Ning has no idea what's happening. Or, it's just… He knows he is on a boat, in a lake, dressed quite nicely and staring at the broad back of Jiang Wanyin, who is rowing them along, but…
And he knows how he got here, of course. Talisman to hop from Gusu to Yunmeng, then a quick walk through a bustling marketplace to the open gates of Lotus Pier, where the Sect Leader of the Jiang was waiting, waiting for him, and then a brief exchange of pleasantries, a stroll around the grounds…
And he even fully understands how he ended up on the boat. There was a 'holding of Jiang Wanyin's hand' moment, because the man was—as to be expected—courteous enough to ensure Wen Ning clambered into the bobbing vessel rather than slipping into the lake from a combination of corpse-stiff movement and the vagaries of shifting currents. It's not so much the where and the how. Wen Ning is not a fool.
But the mechanics of it all are not what have him so unsettled. With a deep breath his body has no use for, he attempts to calm his mind.
Sunlight catches threads of embroidery in Jiang Wanyin's garments as he rows, and if Wen Ning could drag his eyes from the spread of Jiang Wanyin's shoulders long enough, he'd certainly appreciate the particulars of the man's fashion-sense. He looks nice; nicer than usual, somehow. Feeling it would be ridiculous to assume Jiang Wanyin dressed for him specifically, Wen Ning shuttles the observation to the back of his mind and forces himself to look out over the water, instead of at the shift of muscles below Jiang Wanyin's robes as he pilots them along.
Jiang Wanyin occupies a space in Wen Ning's thoughts even when they are not together. This is not new, particularly, but the details have filled out in some unexpected ways. For years, they had existed in one another's periphery. Though Jiang Wanyin was probably the 'adult' Wen Ning saw most often, the two habitually trailing around after the hard-headed juniors on their night-hunts, they had not made a habit of interacting, beyond greetings and brief discussions of strategy.
Still, those years had taken a once sharp and stony silence between the two and softened it into a thing against which it no longer hurt to bump. Happy with this, with the easing of their mutual dislike, Wen Ning had spent no further time considering it. Once the children were… well, no longer children, Wen Ning had assumed his association with Jiang Wanyin would vanish just like the night-hunts. Without the kids fumbling around, getting themselves into trouble, there would be no reason for the two to encounter each other in any regular way.
And then Jiang Wanyin had arrived on his doorstep with an embarrassed scowl and an armful of scrolls, requesting Wen Ning's assistance with his disciples' curriculum for field medicine. Wen Ning had made him tea, and the two spent a couple of shichen working together.
It had been a pleasant way to pass an evening, and the unspoken acknowledgement of Wen Ning's expertise in the area had warmed him like so little really did anymore. Jiang Wanyin had left with a formal declaration of gratitude, and Wen Ning figured that was the last of it.
When Jiang Wanyin showed up two weeks later with a bag of potatoes and more questions, Wen Ning was so startled he nearly forgot to invite him inside. Grubs, apparently, were the problem the leader of the Yunmeng Jiang was trying to solve that day, and he'd noticed Wen Ning's garden on his last visit…
Then it was a bow Jiang Wanyin was sending off for repair, and questions about archery.
Then a bag of lotus seeds as thanks (along with a grunted acknowledgement that he had no idea if Wen Ning could even EAT, but if not, he would happily bring something else).
By the time Jiang Wanyin began arriving without an ostensible excuse, showing himself inside as soon as Wen Ning opened the door, Wen Ning realized it was his most looked-forward-to part of the week. Jiang Wanyin would spread snacks on the table and install himself on what Wen Ning had started thinking of as 'Jiang-zongzhu's cushion', to do nothing more than share gossip about his disciples or ask after Wen Ning's day. Baffled—but undeniably pleased—Wen Ning did his best to gather his own anecdotes and stories, hoping to prompt the occasional smile or even rarer laugh. Jiang Wanyin was beautiful when he laughed.
At some point, Wen Ning had mustered his courage and shyly shared that he does not eat. Aghast, Jiang Wanyin began showing up with handkerchiefs, or seeds for planting, or booklets on medicinal herbs; little things both thoughtful and useful. Gifts, and for no reason Wen Ning had been able to determine. When he'd tried to put a stop to it, pointing out that he had nothing to offer in return, Jiang Wanyin had rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and spat 'friends do not keep score'.
Wen Ning had spent that night quietly and anxiously cleaning every single surface in his home, the word 'friends' looping in his mind. Jiang Wanyin was shrewd and clever. Jiang Wanyin was strong. He cared deeply for his disciples and the people of Yunmeng. He was elegant and lovely, even when sprawled out on Wen Ning's floor, snickering at something Wen Ning said.
He featured regularly in Wen Ning's daydreams, in various states of undress.
It was a miracle they'd progressed to a point where Jiang Wanyin would openly refer to their association as 'friendship', considering the bitter distaste they'd had for each other upon Wei Wuxian's return. The surprising fact that Wen Ning found himself wanting even more, wanting his hands on Jiang Wanyin's body, or to press his nose to the skin below Jiang Wanyin's ear to breathe in his scent, mattered little. He could do 'friends'. In both his life and his undeath, Wen Ning was accustomed to shuffling his desires to the side; if it made things easier for others, Wen Ning did not mind. This would be no different.
And yes, Jiang Wanyin had certainly seemed to grow more… comfortable around him. Wen Ning wouldn't go so far as to describe the man as 'affectionate', but there had been an uptick in conspiratorial shoulder-bumps, or fists gripped on Wen Ning's bicep when Jiang Wanyin was relating a particularly impassioned story. Perhaps Jiang Wanyin had even squeezed his fingers in thanks once or twice. And the hand he'd placed on the small of Wen Ning's back while Wen Ning showed him the radishes he'd grown…
Wen Ning had thanked all gods and goddesses he could no longer blush and didn't require breath. He'd nearly gasped anyway.
So it happened that, after months of these visits, after months of gifts (the last being a small but exquisite tea set decorated with tiny, pink, impossibly beautiful roses), Jiang Wanyin had stopped on his way out, turning back to face Wen Ning with his fists clenched and nostrils flared.
"You also are capable of visiting," he had announced, and then stood in rigid silence. Wen Ning blinked, having no other instinctive way to display his confusion.
Sighing, Jiang Wanyin had 'tsk'ed his tongue. "Why do you never come to Lotus Pier?"
He wants me to come to Lotus Pier? "I did not believe I was welcome, Jiang-zongzhu," Wen Ning responded, honest.
"That shit was years ago," Jiang Wanyin had snapped, then loudly exhaled, calming himself. "I apologize for my part in it." Clearing his throat, Jiang Wanyin scuffed a boot along the wooden floor. "At any rate, you are welcome now."
"I see," Wen Ning managed through his surprise. With an abrupt nod and a muttered 'well', Jiang Wanyin had disappeared into the night.
So Wen Ning had gathered his courage, found himself some garments that felt respectable enough to wear to a… social visit? with a prominent sect leader, and they'd arranged a time.
Which is how he now finds himself alone with Jiang Wanyin on a fishing boat in the midst of one of Yunmeng's lakes.
No longer rowing, Jiang Wanyin has propped himself on the boat's sides, leaning back so Wen Ning has a close-up view of the top of his head. His hands are large and strong, gripped tightly to the wood. It makes Wen Ning wish he could see the man's forearms; they're probably lovely.
"I come out here by myself often," Jiang Wanyin eventually murmurs, and Wen Ning pulls his attention from his study of the fine hairs on the back of Jiang Wanyin's neck.
"It is peaceful," Wen Ning quietly observes. It isn't surprising that a man under the kind of pressure Jiang Wanyin labors beneath every day has found a place to escape. Fondly, Wen Ning lets his eyes slide along Jiang Wanyin's shoulders, down the robes covering his back, his belt and sash—
Sitting up, Jiang Wanyin swings his legs around so he is facing Wen Ning, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "I thought you might like it," he says, lips pressed tight, but there's a glint of hope in his gaze, and Wen Ning does his best to smile.
"I like it very much."
Jiang Wanyin returns his smile, a timid, soft curl at the corner of his mouth. Wen Ning nearly misses it, focused as he is on how closely they are sitting, how their knees almost touch; how, if Jiang Wanyin stretched out his fingers, they would brush against Wen Ning's own.
It's suddenly a bit difficult to speak, for some reason. Neither of them seem able to meet the other's eyes, and Wen Ning allows himself to be fascinated by a dragonfly that has landed on the side of the boat, iridescent and shimmering in the sun's rays. Gods, why is it so hard to think of something to say? For months now, they've been chatting about anything and everything, from the most foolish errant thought to heavy, important topics they instinctively whisper lest their voices break.
Jiang Wanyin must think him ridiculous, to be so tongue-tied over their proximity. How embarrassing, to be rendered speechless by how prettily the sun highlights the freckles on Jiang Wanyin's cheeks. To find himself restless, full of unwelcome and inappropriate desire at how very alone they are. Without his permission, his gaze strays to Jiang Wanyin's lips, full and sweet, looking as if they'd taste of ripe persimmons.
"Wen Qionglin," those perfect lips form, and Wen Ning blinks back to reality, realizing with a start that Jiang Wanyin has taken his hand, holding it gently between both of his own.
"Y-yes?" Wen Ning blurts, eyes widening at the playful curl of Jiang Wanyin's smile. It seems he's been caught staring.
Squeezing his fingers, so gentle, Jiang Wanyin appears to search for the right words, lips parting before closing again. When he begins to speak, there's an intensity to his gaze Wen Ning has never seen outside a battle. "I enjoy your company."
He is going to kiss me. It is so suddenly and brutally obvious, Wen Ning nearly laughs, both at the situation, and at himself. Wen Ning has been so worried about whether he was imposing upon Jiang Wanyin's kindness, so intent on hiding his longing, it never occurred to him Jiang Wanyin might be doing the same.
"I enjoy your company as well, Jiang-zongzhu," he murmurs, and calling upon every scrap of courage he can find, he edges closer, enjoying the way Jiang Wanyin's pupils widen at the movement.
"I am glad you joined me today." The words are little more than a breath, a low rumble Wen Ning doubts he would have heard if it were not for his exceptional post-death hearing. "I… wonder if you would indulge me and call me Jiang Wanyin, when we are alone together." It's not the first time Jiang Wanyin has asked this of him, and it isn't that Wen Ning doesn't want to. He just…
I am about to learn the man's taste. Using his name is the least I can do. "Very well, Jiang Wanyin," Wen Ning manages to push through his teeth with minimal trembling, and the grin he receives in reply makes him wish he'd have gotten over himself sooner.
Jiang Wanyin is staggeringly beautiful this way, with hope and desire darkening his eyes, happiness warming his expression. His hands tighten around Wen Ning's. "If I wanted to kiss you…" Before he can push the rest of his sentence out, Wen Ning is nodding, is leaning in and squeezing Jiang Wanyin's hands in return.
"Oh. Oh, then," Jiang Wanyin mumbles, the last syllable a soft movement against Wen Ning's mouth. "Wonderful," Jiang Wanyin sighs, his smile pressed carefully to Wen Ning's. "I'll… do that, then."
"Stop talking," Wen Ning whispers, only just suppressing a giggle.
"Bossy," Jiang Wanyin whispers back, and doesn't bother holding in his laugh. "You are a general, indeed. Barking orders even at a time like this."
"And you are truly a sect leader, enraptured by the sound of your own voice when you should be taking action, instead."
With a melodramatic sigh, Jiang Wanyin leans back, eyebrow cocked in elegant disdain. "Wen Qionglin. I am appalled at your disrespect—"
"Jiang Wanyin," Wen Ning interjects sternly. "I have been wanting you to kiss me since we discussed you pitching in during the harvests, stomping around someone's field muddy and naked from the waist up. My patience is at its end."
All traces of humor drain from Jiang Wanyin's face, leaving a low, simmering hunger. "Is that so."
"It is."
"So I could have been doing this months ago."
Wen Ning cannot resist the urge to tease, just a bit. "You aren't doing anything now."
"Wen Qionglin," Jiang Wanyin growls, lunging forward, and suddenly there are teeth on Wen Ning's lip, a hand in his hair and another fisting urgently in his collar. It is scorching, having another person's heat pressed to him so fiercely, and for the first time in years, Wen Ning feels alive.
Jiang Wanyin is a force of nature, he always is, but like this, gods— His lips and teeth, his tongue and his breath, all are so gentle, so careful and tender, but his hands... The fingers gripping and clutching in Wen Ning's hair, the strength with which he pulls Wen Ning to him by his robes, is almost frightening. Completely ravenous. Desperate. No one touches Wen Ning like this. No one ever has.
"You want me," Wen Ning slurs around Jiang Wanyin's tongue, awed.
Jiang Wanyin's laugh rumbles through Wen Ning like the promise of rain. "I want you absolutely," Jiang Wanyin pulls back long enough to say, pressing his lips to Wen Ning's jaw. "Whatever you're willing to give, whatever you want from me."
"But I'm a corpse," Wen Ning points out, and immediately wishes he could take it back.
Still, it feels a reasonable enough thing to say, so Wen Ning startles when Jiang Wanyin begins to laugh. "I considered pretending to be surprised," Jiang Wanyin chuckles at last. "So fucking what. You're a corpse. I'm an asshole. At least you have no say in the matter. I wake up every morning and decide to be this way."
"Jiang Wanyin," Wen Ning mumbles when Jiang Wanyin's lips slide over his again. "You are not an asshole." They kiss, soft and sweet. "You only pretend to be an asshole."
"Shhh," Jiang Wanyin hisses, and digs his teeth into Wen Ning's lip. "That's a secret."
Wen Ning slides his hands into Jiang Wanyin's hair, right at the base of his neck. "Don't worry," he gasps when the caress prompts Jiang Wanyin to drag him bodily to his lap, the boat swaying in warning. "I'll take it to my grave."
Immediately, all movement ceases. Wen Ning, disappointed, retracts his tongue from Jiang Wanyin's slack mouth.
"Did you—" Jiang Wanyin's fingers flex against Wen Ning's ass. "You just made a dead-guy joke."
Wen Ning remains still. Still as the grave, he thinks half-hysterically, and only just chokes back a laugh.
With a sigh forceful enough to flutter Wen Ning's hair, Jiang Wanyin lets his head thump to Wen Ning's chest. "I fell for someone that makes jokes about being dead."
"They're funnier when I'm actually dead, right?" Wen Ning breathes, doing his best to keep his amusement hidden. He rests his chin just in front of Jiang Wanyin's guan. "Besides," he adds, and meaningfully rocks his hips. "I'm not the only stiff one on this boat."
It happens so fast Wen Ning can't react; one moment he is in Jiang Wanyin's lap, and the next he is in the lake. When he surfaces, spluttering entirely for comedic effect, Jiang Wanyin's cheeks are red as cherries.
And below his flush, his smile is blinding; wide and radiant and beautiful.
Worth it, Wen Ning decides about his soaking garments, grinning just as brightly, and yanks Jiang Wanyin into the water after him.