Work Text:
or, days later, after
Thanksgiving,
when I want
whatever's left
- Kevin Young, Ragtime
Up until the point Wen Xu broke Lan Wangji’s leg and took the Yin iron from him, Wei Wuxian had been the engineer of all of Lan Wangji’s most embarrassing moments. The spring book in the library, the loquats in Caiyi, falling on top of Lan Wangji with their wrists tied together right in front of Jiang Wanyin and Wen Qing.
Wei Wuxian made Lan Wangji lose his cool, made his temper flare, had grabbed his wrist and pulled him through Tanzhou, had gotten him drunk and punished for being drunk, had teased him and teased him and teased him. He’d thought Wei Wuxian the person in this world most capable of hurting him.
It was laughable now. He had been so sheltered. Wei Wuxian had never set out to hurt him. No one had ever set out to hurt him, not really. Even the beatings he’d gotten had been designed- poorly or not- to improve him.
Wen Xu wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him, to punish him for… for what, he wasn’t sure. They burned the Cloud Recesses out of spite, killed the most helpless sect members- the servants, the children because they could. They did it in front of Lan Wangji because they thought it was funny. They laughed when he cried and begged- and he cried and begged because there wasn’t a life that wasn’t more important than his pride.
They called it torture, and it was, except that he had told them everything before they killed the first person and they still killed and killed and killed even when he had no secrets left.
Through it all, he kept thinking, wishing, aching for Wei Wuxian. Not his brother or his uncle or his lost sect members. If Wei Wuxian were here, if Wei Wuxian could help him figure out what to do, if Wei Wuxian could just be on his side, it would be okay, he could survive this.
It was a stupid thought, a stupid series of thoughts. Wei Wuxian was a Jiang sect member, an outsider, someone who had been allied with Lan Wangji for a while, that was all. What responsibility would he have had to help Lan Wangji, what reason? When Lans needed him wasn’t Lan Wangji a traitor to think so much of Wei Wuxian?
For the indoctrination, Lan Wangji is told to dress in his finest robes. He’s to be a symbol of the might of the Wen sect, a war prize. He’s taken to the Jingshi, watched as he opens his chests and takes out the robes stored there. White robes replacing the filthy blue ones he’s been wearing for months. White for sadness and death and despair. White for funerals.
There’s an overrobe in his chests Lan Wangji has never worn, a lace so fine even he’d been nervous to wear it, fabric so delicate a careless hand will rip it. He does his hair carefully, combing it, oiling it, sectioning it, pinning it. He dons the clean, fragile, white robes. He walks to face his captors standing up as straight and walking as normally as he can. He is determined to show no weakness.
They make him walk even though they have horses. Every night his leg mends a little and every day it fractures again. It takes almost all of his spiritual energy just to keep going. The guard he is sent with is laughably small, a group of mean weak cultivators, because they know he doesn’t have the energy to wield his sword or his qin. Not that he has his qin or his qiankun sleeve. He has nothing but a useless sword and a broken leg.
They’re on the edge of Wen sect territory when it happens; the bright flash of a talisman blinding the whole company, the guards reeling away, even Lan Wangji, with his spiritual energy too weak to clear the afterimage from his eyes.
Suddenly someone is among them, some dancing whirling black shape, and Lan Wangji should be helping his rescuer (if that’s what this is), but he can’t see and he can’t fight so he falls to his knees to make himself as small of a target as possible.
He’s gotten used to kneeling, anyway.
He hopes but it can’t be, it can’t be, there’s no way it’s Wei Wuxian, and yet he strains to see more clearly, to catch a flash of red in that swirl of black, to hear that joking voice, that laughter.
It must only take minutes but it seems like hours, hearing the guards cry out, terrified for what will happen next, before he feels gentle hands on his shoulders.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice close to Lan Wangji’s ear and for a moment Lan Wangji thinks he’s imagining it, wants to be imagining it, doesn’t want to be this vulnerable in front of someone with the power to take him apart.
Doesn’t want to be imagining it, doesn’t want to go another moment without Wei Wuxian here, Wei Wuxian saving him, Wei Wuxian keeping him safe.
“Lan Zhan,” he says again, and he’s so close and so real, his breath so warm on Lan Wangji’s ear. Lan Wangji isn’t going to cry, he promises himself. He’s not going to lean into Wei Wuxian’s warmth and cry. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lan Wangji manages and Wei Wuxian snorts. “Well, clearly that’s not true.” He moves away a little. Lan Wangji’s eyes are beginning to clear, but he doesn’t want to look up at him.
“Can you stand?” Wei Wuxian asks, and Lan Wangji says “Mn” because he can stand. He tries to struggle to his feet.
Wei Wuxian helps him up with strong, supportive hands, and catches him when he wobbles.
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he says. “Let me carry you.”
Lan Wangji shakes his head. He can see better now; the guards are all dead, neatly sliced through with Wei Wuxian’s sword, black sprays of blood on the raw, trampled dirt.
“You can hardly walk, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian scolds him, pulling Lan Wangji’s arm over his shoulder. “There’s an abandoned house back there,” he says, leading them towards a narrow path off the road. “I’ll take you there to rest and then come back here and clean up this mess, ah?”
“Don’t need rest,” Lan Wangji says, trying to pull away from Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian’s grip on him is strong and Lan Wangji is weak. “Need to get back to Cloud Recesses.”
Wei Wuxian snorts. “What good will you be to them?” he asks. “Your spiritual energy is drained, you’re severely wounded. Come on and have a rest and we’ll figure something out, okay?”
He doesn’t take Lan Wangji’s protestations for an answer, just pulls him down the faint path, into a deserted house. It’s half fallen down, the door missing, the thatch so old you can see through the ceiling in places, the floor thickly carpeted with decaying leaves, vines and grass growing up in the middle of the one mostly intact room.
“Sorry it’s not very good accommodations,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling a cloak out of his qiankun bag and draping it on the ground. “It’s all we have at the moment.”
He lowers Lan Wangji down onto it and when Lan Wangji struggles against his careful hands and tries to rise, Wei Wuxian pulls a talisman out of his robes and gently presses it on Lan Wangji’s chest.
Immediately a weight pins him down.
“Wei Ying!” he exclaims, trying to fight against it. It’s not an uncomfortable weight, but still inescapable. If he had more spiritual power he could burn through it with ease, but he’s exhausted, tapped out, taken down with one stupid talisman, helpless, helpless, helpless like a stupid mundane child.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “I need to move those bodies away from the road so no one comes across them and starts searching the area. You have to rest, Lan Zhan! Please, please just relax- I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He casts a ward around the abandoned house and then, with one last apology to Lan Wangji, disappears.
Lan Wangji tries to fight for a few more minutes, but he’s so tired, it feels so good to be lying down and… and he’s safe. He’s safe now. Wei Wuxian is going to come back and take care of him. He’ll be okay. Finally, he gives in, lets his eyes close, and feels himself drift off.
When he wakes he can move again and Wei Wuxian is lying beside him sleeping, a light pressure against Lan Wangji’s side, close enough that Lan Wangji can feel his body shift as he breathes, can feel the soothing warmth that radiates from his skin. He moves away a little and turns on to his side so he can look at the sleeping boy in the daylight that’s pouring in through the holes in the roof.
Asleep, relaxed, Wei Wuxian’s face is nothing like it is awake. The ever-present smile is gone, but so is the tension that is always laid beneath it. Lan Wangji wants to stroke the lines of his face, his sharp cheekbones, his pointed chin. He has to stop himself from reaching out a hand to do it.
He stays there too long staring at him, then his leg throbs and everything comes back. The burning, the killing, his uncle and brother’s unknown states. Carefully, he slides backward on the cloak and stands, then makes his way, still limping, towards the empty doorway, looking back at Wei Wuxian, half hoping he’ll jump up to stop him, half hoping he’ll stay asleep and let him escape.
He hits the ward with his shoulder and jolts back, tripping on the uneven floor, coming down heavily on his broken leg with a grunt, and twisting sideways trying to stop himself before he hits the ground.
He doesn’t hit the ground. Warm arms catch him, encircle him, cradle him.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, moving both of them to the cloak again. He lowers Lan Wangji to the ground, cradles his head in his lap. “What are you doing?” he asks softly, compassionately.
“I have to go back to Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji says, looking up into Wei Wuxian’s face. He grabs Wei Wuxian’s collar like he wants to shake him, to make him understand.
“I know you do,” Wei Wuxian says softly, catching his hands in his. “But you’re not going to be any good to them just yet. We’ll spend a few days here and you’ll recover and then we’ll both go. I’ll help you, okay?”
Lan Wangji stares up at him and grits his teeth. He does not doubt that Wei Wuxian would trap him with another talisman if he thought he needed to.
Finally, he looks away, nods. He’ll just have to wait for a better chance to run away.
Wei Wuxian snorts softly, as if he can hear what he is thinking, but says nothing, instead turning and rummaging in a qiankun bag.
“I need to look at your injury,” he says, taking out medical supplies.
“It’s fine,” Lan Wangji protests.
“It’s obviously not fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan.” He sighs. “You want to help your family, right?”
Lan Wangji looks away.
“Well, the more you let me help you, the more you can help them,” Wei Wuxian says. He rests a hand on Lan Wangji’s chest, a heavy, reassuring weight. “What good does it do to pretend you’re okay,” he asks softly, “when we both know it’s a lie?”
He sets all the supplies out neatly on the cloak, then kneels by Lan Wangji’s feet and begins pushing his robes up.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaims, sitting up and pushing him away.
Wei Wuxian looks at him evenly, then gives him a little, encouraging smile. “I’m just going to look at your leg,” he says. “Don’t worry, your modesty will be intact. But…would it make you more comfortable to move your clothes instead?”
“I don’t need you to look at my leg.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a sigh. “If your leg heals crooked it will have to be rebroken. You could even be permanently disabled. What is worse, me spending ten minutes making sure your leg is okay or you taking months longer to heal than you would otherwise?”
Lan Wangji frowns at him but lets him shift him so he is leaning against the wall, then pulls his robes aside and hikes his trousers up.
He hadn’t let himself look at his leg when he’d been held captive, too afraid of what he would see. It is as bad as he’d suspected, not just swollen and purple; it seems crooked, twisting to the right.
Wei Wuxian sucks his teeth, then rummages around for some talisman paper and writes a talisman out, using his blood for ink, then holds it over Lan Wangji’s leg. Remarkably, it seems to make part of his leg vanish, showing the flesh inside his leg, veins and arteries, pink muscle, white nerves, beige slices of bone.
Wei Wuxian moves the talisman around and the cross-section changes, grows deeper, more shallow until finally, he finds the break, the fracture in both bones.
They’re healing crooked, as they both had suspected.
“Can you hold this?” Wei Wuxian asks, nodding to the talisman. “Try to keep it in exactly this spot.”
“What is it?”
“Oh, just something I invented to see inside of things. Lan Zhan, I think we have to rebreak this, but I’m not entirely sure how to do it.”
“A sword glint. Precisely aimed. The mend is still weak.”
Wei Wuxian frowns. “I’m not good at precision, and I don’t want to injure you further.”
“Hand me Bichen. I’ll do it.”
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “You’re too close, and you don’t have much spiritual energy left.”
“It won’t take much because I’m so close.” Lan Wangji holds up his hand and his sword flies into it, neatly missing Wei Wuxian’s head.
Awkwardly, he unsheathes it, then rests the point on his leg right at the point where the bones are broken.
“Wait,” Wei Wuxian says, and folds up a bit of bandage and slips it under the sword point so it won’t cut the skin.
Lan Wangji can’t help hissing when the weight of the sword presses against the break, but he closes his eyes and forces himself to concentrate, focusing on his golden core until he feels like he’s built up enough power.
Then he swallows and quickly, so he won’t lose his nerve, slides his hand down the flat of the blade, building up and throwing the glint so it shoots into his leg and strikes the bones.
He can’t help crying out when his bones re-brake, the sword falling from his hand. Wei Wuxian catches it and resheathes it, lying it down beside him, then carefully lowers Lan Wangji to the bed as his vision blacks out.
When he wakes again it is night and Wei Wuxian is again sleeping beside him, a warm pressure against his side. His leg is encased in something. A split, he thinks, made of sticks and bandages. Wei Wuxian has removed the silver guan from Lan Wangji’s hair with the pins that helped keep it in place. He’s even taken off Lan Wangji’s outer robes and belt, Lan Wangji can tell; the delicate lace that itches against his skin is gone.
He should be angry with the presumption, but when he turns his head to look at Wei Wuxian, his black hair and clothes almost invisible in the darkness, only the faint gleam of his skin visible, he has no anger to spare for him. He’s only been trying to help.
Wei Wuxian, the thorn in his side, the aggravating voice in his head, the person he had prayed would save him, only wants to help.
Without meaning to, he moves closer to the other boy’s warmth and is shocked to find himself crying. Not graceful tracks of tears, silently slipping out, but big wracking sobs that shake his body, his hand pressed over his mouth to try to keep himself silent.
But Wei Wuxian wakes up anyway, turns to Lan Wangji, and wraps his arms around him. Wei Wuxian presses his face into Lan Wangji’s hair and strokes his hand along Lan Wangji’s arm and murmurs comforting things, murmurs ‘it’s okay’, and ‘you’re safe’ and ‘I’ll help you’, and ‘shhhh’, and Lan Wangji is so mortified he wants to die, but he can’t stop himself from sobbing, can’t stop himself from hugging him back, can’t stop himself from curling (as much as he can with his splinted leg) into Wei Wuxian’s warmth and comfort, can’t stop himself from believing Wei Wuxian’s words.
He must have cried himself to sleep because he wakes again in the daylight feeling worn and wrung out. Wei Wuxian is still beside him, sitting now, stacks of talismans and talisman paper in front of him like he’s counting or sorting them.
He turns and looks at Lan Wangji, smiles sweetly and reassuringly down at him, reaches over brushes some of Lan Wangji’s hair out of his face. Lan Wangji wants to snap at him and push him away, wants to turn his head and nuzzle his face into Wei Wuxian’s palm.
Instead of doing either, he struggles to sit up. Wei Wuxian moves quickly to help him.
“I’ve got food,” Wei Wuxian says, gathering up the talismans into a neat stack. “I’m sure it would be better for you to have something bland and nourishing, but I’m afraid all I have are snacks my shijie packed for the journey.” He takes out a qiankun bag and lays out a variety of boxes and bundles. “Maybe the lotus seeds would be the easiest on your stomach?” Wei Wuxian suggests, taking up a cloth bundle and untying it to reveal a pile of unpeeled lotus seeds.
“Water?” Lan Wangji asks, and Wei Wuxian smiles. “Of course,” he says, grabbing a water skin and passing it over.
Lan Wangji drinks deeply, while Wei Wuxian begins to unpeel the lotus seeds, placing the peeled ones in a neat little pile. When he hands him back the water skin, Wei Wuxian trades it for a lotus seed.
Lan Wangji looks at it doubtfully.
“It’s not as fresh as it should be,” Wei Wuxian admits. “You should try them freshly picked.” He frowns at Lan Wangji. “You could have if you had accepted my invitation to Lotus Pier.”
Lan Wangji pops the seed in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “Even if I had accepted your invitation,” he says, after he swallows, “I would not have had the chance to go.”
“No,” Wei Wuxian agrees, with a frown, “I suppose not.”
Lan Wangji eats another lotus seed, just beginning to realize how hungry he is.
“Your shijie packed you snacks for a journey?” Lan Wangji asks. “To come and find me?”
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I was going to Nightless city with Jiang Cheng,” he says. “For the indoctrination.”
“You didn’t have to go,” Lan Wangji points out. “You’re not a sect heir.”
“No,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “But I thought I could maybe help Jiang Cheng. But then we came across a group of merchants talking about Cloud Recesses being burned and you being taken captive, and…” he looks down and blushes. “Ah, Lan Zhan, how could I not try to help you?”
“Jiang Wanyin was okay with that?” Lan Wangji asks.
“At first no,” Wei Wuxian admits. “But then he said I’d probably just embarrass the Jiang sect so I might as well go.” He peels another lotus seed deftly. “I would have gone anyway,” he says. “Jiang Cheng can’t stop me.”
“It was not necessary for you to come and help me,” Lan Wangji says.
Wei Wuxian snorts. “Yes it was!” he says. “You’re my friend. Why aren’t you eating?”
“No talking while eating,” Lan Wangji says.
“Well, stop talking then.” He pushes the pile of lotus seeds towards Lan Wangji, then stands up and stalks out of the abandoned house.
Did he upset him somehow? Lan Wangji wonders, working his way slowly through the lotus seeds. He hasn’t eaten properly in days, not since he left the Unclean Realm, nausea from the pain of his broken leg and anxiety having made it hard to eat, even when the food the Wens had given him hadn’t been spoiled.
Still hungry after he’s finished the lotus seeds, he investigates the other packages. Sweet cakes of varying sorts, sweet dumplings, dried fruits. He settles on the latter, taking up a piece of dried apricot and chewing it slowly. He’s begun on a second piece when Wei Wuxian comes back in, a string of fish dripping water on the leaf-strewn dirt floor.
“Hey,” he says and his smile is back like nothing was ever wrong. “I thought I would cook fish for dinner? Do you eat fish?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, finishing the dried apricot and putting the rest away. “But I should go back to Cloud Recesses.”
Wei Wuxian sighs. “Okay,” he says, “tell me; you leave here right now for Cloud Recesses, dragging your still very broken leg behind you. Assuming you get there without being picked up by more Wen soldiers, what do you do?”
“Fight,” Lan Wangji says.
“With what? Where’s your qin?”
“Gone,” Lan Wangji admits.
“And how much spiritual energy are you going to have after walking back there with a broken leg?”
Lan Wangji says nothing.
“So how is that going to help your sect?” Wei Wuxian prods.
“I can’t do nothing!” Lan Wangji exclaims, much too loudly.
“Healing and recharging are not the same doing nothing,” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan, you know this. If our situations were reversed, you’d be telling me exactly the same thing.”
“And you’d be telling me the same thing.”
“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian agrees, “which is how I know that I’m right. Lan Zhan, I promise you if you wait until your leg is healed enough and you’re well enough I’ll help you.”
“They can’t wait!” Lan Wangji exclaims, his fists clenching. “Everyday…”
“What?” Wei Wuxian asks. “It’s been how many days already? You don’t know what difference a few extra days will do to them, but you do know what difference a few extra days will make to us being able to help them.”
Lan Wangji looks away.
“Come on, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “You know I’m right. Just agree with me so I don’t have to worry about you doing something stupid and rash.”
Lan Wangji glares at him.
“Oh, are you going to say that trying to crawl back to Gusu with a broken leg isn’t stupid and rash?” he asks.
“I won’t,” Lan Wangji says finally.
“Won’t what?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“I won’t go until my spiritual energy is recharged.”
“You won’t go until we both agree you’re recovered,” Wei Wuxian corrects him. “And then we’ll go together.”
They stare at each other angrily for a long time. Finally, Lan Wangji looks away. “Yes.”
Wei Wuxian sighs with relief. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, good.”
Wei Wuxian cleans the fish on a half-rotted board he peeled from the side of the abandoned house and Lan Wangji watches him, his broken, splinted leg stretched out before him. He should meditate, he thinks, try to recover his spiritual energy faster, but he’s too tired, too worn out, so he watches and lets himself drift for a while.
Wei Wuxian’s singing to himself, some folk tune Lan Wangji doesn’t know, his knife working in time to the song. He’s taken off his bracers and tied his sleeves back to keep the fish viscera from getting on his clothes, baring his lower arms, which are corded with muscle. He’s tied his hair up in a bun with his red ribbon, exposing his long neck. Lan Wangji wants to lick the sweat dripping down the elegant curve of it, he’s so beautiful.
Wei Wuxian slices the bellies of the fish open, pulls out their guts in confident practiced motions, tries to wipe the fallen strands of his hair out of his face with his shoulder and Lan Wangji is hollow and needy, filled with emotions he’d been running away from since he met Wei Wuxian. But now they’re welcome; anything is welcome that is not pain or anger or guilt or sorrow. Even lust. Even love.
Wei Wuxian looks up at him. He’s got fish blood streaked on his cheek. He looks up at him and his face splits open in a smile and Lan Wangji feels his heart stutter, feels everything inside of him go limp and jelly-like. He does not smile back, but that doesn’t make the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s smile fade. He’s always taken Lan Wangji as he is.
Lan Wangji drifts off for a while, drifts back awake to the smell of smoke. Wei Wuxian has built a fire on what once was the hearth, rigged a spit above it, the gutted fish sizzling and dripping into the fire. He sits beside it, turning the spit slowly.
“Lan Zhan,” he calls, when he sees he’s awake. He jumps up and bounds over, reaches out his hands. Lan Wangji recoils and Wei Wuxian’s expression clouds with hurt.
“Your hands,” Lan Wangji manages and Wei Wuxian looks down at them and grimaces.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, and he runs out of the house.
A minute later he’s back, as smiley as ever, his face and hands damp. Lan Wangji watches, dismayed, as he wipes his hands dry on his robes, then kneels in front of Lan Wangji. “Can I check your leg?” he asks, and Lan Wangji hesitates then nods and folds up his skirts. His trouser leg is already hiked above the knee since it won’t fit over the splint.
With gentle hands, Wei Wuxian unwraps the bandages that bind the splint to his leg, then removes the branches he used to support the split. Lan Wangji’s leg is still bruised and swollen but looks straighter. Wei Wuxian performs the same trick as he did the day before of looking into Lan Wangji’s leg with a hastily scribbled talisman. The bones already look much better than they had; they are joined straight now and already beginning to knit together.
“Look at that,’ Wei Wuxian says, sitting back. “Isn’t that good?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, as Wei Wuxian puts away the talisman and takes out a salve and begins to rub it, carefully, into Lan Wangji’s leg. “What is that?” he asks, trying not to flinch at the light touch of Wei Wuxian’s hand against his skin.
“A salve to reduce inflammation,” Wei Wuxian says. It smells astringent, medicinal. He finishes his task and wipes his hands on his robes then puts the small jar of salve away. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Mn. Better. Thank you. For rescuing me,” he says, and swallows. “And making me see reason.”
“Hah! Did you ever think there would be a time when Wei Wuxian was more reasonable than you?”
Lan Wangji almost smiles. “No,” he admits.
“Anyway, don’t thank me so formally! Aren’t we close friends?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees.
Wei Wuxian smiles brightly down at him.
They eat the fish with their fingers, a unique experience for Lan Wangji, picking the flaking flesh off of skin and bone.
When they’re done Lan Wangji looks at him, his hands and face covered in fish grease and Wei Wuxian laughs. “There’s a stream outside,” he says. “Do you want to wash?”
Lan Wangji nods, and before he knows what’s happening, Wei Wuxian has bent down and slipped his arms under him, lifting him.
“What are you doing” Lan Wangji demands, wanting to hit him, but not wanting to touch anything with his dirty hands.
“There’s a pool out back,” Wei Wuxian says. “You can wash.”
He carries him around the house to where a fallen tree has caused the creek to widen into a pool and puts him down gently on a large rock, then hands him a clean cloth. “Go on,” he says. “I promise I won’t look. I’ll go back into the house and come back when you call me, okay?”
When Wei Wuxian is gone, Lan Wangji undresses carefully, folding his robes and undershirt and neatly placing them on the stone beside him, then uses the cloth Wei Wuxian had given him to wash as well as he can. It’s difficult reaching down and scooping up water with his broken leg making it hard to balance.
It’s more awkward washing to his legs and his groin; he can’t take his trousers off, not with the splint on, and he feels extremely self-conscious pulling his trousers as far down as they will go, reaching in to wash between his legs, as exposed as he is, out in the middle of a forest. He unbalances a few times, accidentally putting pressure on his injured leg and hisses at the pain it causes.
When he’s cleaned himself as well as he can, he pulls his trousers back up and unties them again, then sits staring at the pool, thinking. He wants to wash his hair, but he can’t think of a way to do it. Finally, he calls for Wei Wuxian, who comes loping towards him on his long legs, grinning.
“I was pretty sure you were going to ignore me and try hopping back here yourself,” he says. His eyes skim over Lan Wangji’s naked chest and he bites his lip, then drags his eyes back up to Lan Wangji’s, heat in his cheeks and a frown on his face.
“Lan Zhan!” he scolds, “you didn’t tell me you were so beat up!” His fingers hover over a large bruise on Lan Wangji’s chest.
“It’s nothing,” Lan Wangji says, leaning back to avoid Wei Wuxian’s touch, resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands.
“It’s not nothing!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “If you told me I could have been treating your bruises. Honestly, Lan Zhan!” He shakes his head.
Lan Wangji sighs. “I want to wash my hair,” he says.
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. “I guess we could figure out something. I’ll go see if I was find something to scoop the water with.”
Wei Wuxian comes back, a bowl in his hand. “Turn so your back is to the pool,” he directs, and Lan Wangji turns, then Wei Wuxian squats in front of him and takes the remaining hairpins and ribbons from his hair.
“Your forehead ribbon,” Wei Wuxian says when Lan Wangji feels his hair fall free.
Lan Wangji reaches up and pulls at the knot that ties the ribbon until it comes loose.
Wei Wuxian’s hands run through his hair, loosening it, massaging his scalp and it’s all Lan Wangji can do not to gasp. Wei Wuxian slides one of his arms behind Lan Wangji’s back. His sleeve is still pulled back, tied up around his upper arm, and his bare flesh feels like it’s burning Lan Wangji’s back.
“Okay,” he says, his voice oddly rough. “Lean back, okay? I’ll keep you from falling.”
He lowers his arm and Lan Wangji lets himself go with it until he’s nearly lying down, balanced between Wei Wuxian’s strong arm and the rock.
“Relax,” Wei Wuxian murmurs and his other hand comes up to pour water from the bucket onto Lan Wangji’s hair, cool water trickling down his face into his eyes and dripping down his neck.
Wei Wuxian pours water over him again, then runs his hand through the thick mass of it, does it again, over and over, until he says, “I think that’s as good as we’re going to get, without any soap or oil.” He helps Lan Wangji sit up again, holding the wet mass of hair away from his back so it won’t drip onto his trousers, wrings it out.
“We don’t have any drying cloths,” Wei Wuxian apologizes. “I have to use a spare shirt.”
Lan Wangji feels smooth fabric drying the water that has trickled down his shoulders and chest and back, then wrapping around his hair. He opens his eyes to find his face inches from Wei Wuxian’s.
Wei Wuxian laughs nervously and backs up. “I was wondering if you’d fallen asleep,” he says.
“No,” Lan Wangji says.
Wei Wuxian laughs again. “Good. You seem so tired, I’d hate to wake you up.” He places Lan Wangji’s folded robes in his lap and then, before he can protest, Wei Wuxian slides an arm behind his back and another under his knees and is lifting him easily again, except that this time Lan Wangji is mostly naked.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji scolds.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian replies teasingly. “I told you I’m going to treat your bruises,” he says. “Did you want to put all your robes on only to take them all off again?” he asks.
Lan Wangji doesn’t reply, just keeps glaring up at him.
“Someday I’m going to be sick and then you can take care of me,” Wei Wuxian promises. “You can wash my hair and tend my wounds and everything.”
Lan Wangji’s traitorous heart pounds in his chest.
Wei Wuxian gently lowers Lan Wangji down on the cloak and then takes out the jar of salve, and, carefully inspecting every inch he can see of Lan Wangji’s skin, rubs the salve into every bruise as tenderly as he’d rubbed it on Lan Wangji’s leg. He even makes Lan Wangji lean forward so he can see his back and rolls up his other trouser leg to examine the skin there.
The pain of Wei Wuxian’s careful hands smoothing salve over his bruises is nothing to the pain of Wei Wuxian’s eyes on his skin, his hands touching Lan Wangji all over. In his trousers, the one place Wei Wuxian doesn’t inspect, he feels himself growing painfully hard and has to bite his lip to keep himself from yelling at Wei Wuxian to go away, to leave him alone.
But he knows how much it would hurt him if he did; he knows how much he’s just trying to help. Lan Wangji’s dignity isn’t worth Wei Wuxian’s pain. He keeps his eyes closed and lets Wei Wuxian touch him, lets him tend to him, lets the shame and embarrassment of his reaction wash over him, and lets it go.
Finally, Wei Wuxian caps the jar and rubs the remaining salve on his hands onto his robe.
Lan Wangji grabs his robes and began dressing, trying not to feel disappointed at the loss of touch.
“Do you always sleep in robes?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I usually sleep in just my shirt and trousers.”
Lan Wangji ignores him, slipping on his underrobe.
“Leave off the outer robes and belt at least,” Wei Wuxian says. “You’ll be more comfortable.”
Lan Wangji’s too tired to argue.
He wakes again. It’s dark again, so dark he can’t see anything. Wei Wuxian’s beside him again, this time curled up against him, this time with his arm flung across his chest, this time with his breath hot against Lan Wangji’s neck.
Lan Wangji wants to split out of his skin and run away. He wants to melt into the ground. Most of all he wants to grab Wei Wuxian and never let him go.
He must have shifted because Wei Wuxian shifts as well, sighs, and moves closer to him and suddenly all Lan Wangji can think about is the hardness Wei Wuxian is pressing against his thigh, the hardness of Lan Wangji pressing back.
Wei Wuxian shifts and his breath is hot against Lan Wangji’s lips, and Lan Wangji hand is on his back, on his shoulder, in his hair, his cock is rubbing against his thigh through robes and trousers.
One of them gasps and one of them moans and Lan Wangji doesn’t know who makes what sound, who crosses the space between them, who flicks their tongue out to wet their lips, but he knows Wei Wuxian digs his nails into Lan Wangji’s back through his robes and that he bites Wei Wuxian’s lower lip.
He knows that Wei Wuxian maneuvers so he’s lying on top of Lan Wangji, knee pressing against Lan Wangji’s crotch, black hair sliding across Lan Wangji’s face, mouth hot against Lan Wangji’s ear, his neck, his shoulder. He knows that his hips shift and thrust up against Wei Wuxian, that Wei Wuxian whispers incomprehensible things when he’s not kissing Lan Wangji, that Wei Wuxian lifts himself up higher, puts space between their bodies, and when Lan Wangji protests weakly, Wei Wuxian laughs at him and unties his trousers and slips a hand beneath his waistband and when he wraps his dry hand over Lan Wangji’s hard, pulsing cock, Lan Wangji’s hips thrust up violently and he maybe curses.
Wei Wuxian laughs again, laughs with happiness and delight, a breathless husky laugh, teases Lan Wangji’s neck with his teeth and wets his hand with Lan Wangji’s precum and lies down on Lan Wangji’s side and strokes Lan Wangji while he shudders and kisses the corner of his lip and runs his other hand through Lan Wangji’s hair and rubs his own hard cock against Lan Wangji’s hip and moves his hand faster and faster until Lan Wangji cries out softly and then Wei Wuxian shakes and moans and sighs and lets his head drop onto Lan Wangji’s chest, his hand still wrapped lightly around Lan Wangji’s softening cock.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispers against Lan Wangji’s chest and laughs again, and then gets up and suddenly Lan Wangji is alone and cold until Wei Wuxian comes back to strip his trousers off and gently cleans Lan Wangji and then himself.
He lies back down, cuddling against Lan Wangji, and kisses him again, gently, sweetly, then lays his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and they slip into sleep again.
When Lan Wangji wakes in the morning he’s crying again, his tears soaking into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Wei Wuxian turns to him and licks his tears away from his cheeks and murmurs to him “my beautiful Lan Zhan, shhh, Lan Zhan, so good, so perfect, so gorgeous, Lan Zhan so good, so good for me, shhh” between kisses. And he kisses and kisses and kisses him and Lan Zhan kisses back desperately and he touches and touches and touches him and Lan Wangji touches back desperately and because they’re only wearing under robes now he unwraps Lan Wangji like a present and Lan Wangji unwraps him desperately and the light of the new day gilds both of them.
Wei Wuxian is as relentless about this as he is about everything: he kisses Lan Wangji as often as he can, touches him, fingers brushing along Lan Wangji’s cheekbones, his shoulder blades, the tips of his fingers. He flatters Lan Wangji and calls him silly pet names and curls up against him like a kitten. He doesn’t let enough space between touches for doubt or guilt or fear or shame to grow inside of Lan Wangji and Lan Wangji thinks of someone holding a book open because he’ll lose his place if he lets it close.
He’s probably right.
“Let’s check on your leg!” Wei Wuxian chirps suddenly, too loudly, after they’ve eaten some of the snacks for breakfast. He pulls his talisman paper out and quickly writes the talisman and holds it over Lan Wangji’s leg.
The break looks much better.
“Maybe halfway through to mending?” Wei Wuxian guesses. “So I guess we should plan on leaving in two days?”
Lan Wangji nods and sits patiently while Wei Wuxian rubs the salve into it and then ties the splint back into place.
He sits down beside Lan Wangji, close enough that their arms are pressed together. Lan Wangji wants to turn his head and kiss Wei Wuxian, pull him down to their makeshift bed again, but he stares out the empty doorway instead, at the dappled green of the forest beyond.
“I was thinking,” Wei Wuxian says. “What are your plans?”
“Plans?” Lan Wangji asks surprised. His voice breaks a little.
“For Cloud Recesses.”
“Kill the Wens. Take it back.”
“I know. But assuming we can do that, what then?”
Lan Wangji blinks at him.
“Then Wens invaded once. When your sect was in a better position to defend itself. So what’s going to keep them from coming back? Are there some kind of emergency wards or something?”
“The Wens broke through the wards.”
“Yeah. No offense but those wards were kind of trash. It took me like ten seconds to break them.” Wei Wuxian rubs his nose. “You know, it’s kind of strange because the wards in the back hills are really good. I had a look at them and wow . Why aren’t the main wards of the same caliber?”
Lan Wangji shakes his head. “The back hill wards were very difficult to build. Could you make better wards?”
“I could,” Wei Wuxian allows, “but it would take me about a month and access to a comprehensive library.”
“The library burned.”
“Oh, that’s horrible.” He sighs. “The thing is that wards are much harder to build than they are to break. That’s what’s so impressive about the ward on the back hills…” He sits up straight suddenly. “Lan Zhan!” he exclaims. “What if we didn’t have to make new wards?”
“What?” Lan Wangji asks.
“What if I could connect the back hill ward structure to the main ward circuit?” Wei Wuxian asks. “It’s theoretically possible because the warded areas overlap. I’d just have to tinker with it a little… but I’m pretty sure I can do it.”
“My clan hid in the back hill. The Wens couldn’t break through the ward.”
“So it would be effective.”
“Unless you do something wrong and take down both wards.”
“Ah, yes.” He rummages around in his qiankun bag and pulls out some paper and a stick of charcoal. “I studied both wards for long enough I think I can draw both arrays and figure this out.”
He begins sketching the complicated structure of a ward array on the paper.
“While I’m doing this, Lan Zhan, you need to figure out a plan of attack for when we get to the Cloud Recesses. Maybe the best thing to do would be to write down everything you know about the occupation; how many soldiers there are, where they’re housed, what their patrols are, what their weaknesses are, so on.” He passes Lan Wangji another piece of paper and a brush, ink stick, and inkstone.
They pass the morning in silence, each working on their own documents, Wei Wuxian often getting up and pacing the room.
Lan Wangji watches him and realizes he isn’t just pacing but is walking the imaginary circle of an array, making little swoops of his hands here and there to indicate to himself where the symbols might go.
Finally, he places a series of pages before Lan Wangji. “Here’s the original back hills ward,” he says, tapping one page, “and the original main ward,” tapping another. “This array I would construct to connect them.”
“Where would it go?” Lan Wangji asks.
“In the Cold Springs cave,” Wei Wuxian says. “Here- this piece draws the power of the back hills ward into the main ward, and this piece ties the two together.”
“How long would it take to construct?” Lan Wangji asks.
“A day or so. Depending on how many people could help.”
“The Back Hills ward isn’t meant to sustain the Main Wards.”
“Yes. It would collapse over time. But hopefully, it would give us enough time to build a stronger one.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, trying to clear his head enough to parse the ward.
“Do you have any ideas for how to liberate Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“We would have to sneak in.”
“Mn,” Wei Wuxian said. “Of course. This scheme is going to take maximum sneakiness.” He looks pleased with the idea.
“You are not good at being sneaky.”
“Me?” Wei Wuxian gasps. “I’m better than you!”
“I’ve never tried being sneaky,” Lan Wangji says, with an air of dignity.
Wei Wuxian is studying his notes and the map he’d drawn. “So the majority of the inner disciples are holed up in Cold Springs Cave?” he asks. “The first thing we could do would be to sneak in there. Recruit all the able-bodied disciples to help us.”
“It’s the most heavily guarded place,” Lan Wangji points out.
“What about the back entrance?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“The back entrance?” Lan Wangji repeats, confused.
“Where we went in before,” Wei Wuxian says. “From Cold Springs.”
“We still don’t know how we got in there,” Lan Wangji says. “And even if we could figure it out, we still wouldn’t be able to get out without going through all those guards- we’d just be stuck in the same position my sect is in right now.”
“Hm. So back to square one then.”
“The back hill is far away from the main buildings, where the rest of the guards are stationed,” Lan Wangji points out. “So if we had some way to take the guards out all at once…”
“Oh, right! The two of us might be able to take them all on.”
“What about your talismans?” Lan Wangji asks.
“What about them?” Wei Wuxian repeats.
“You have so many different ones,” Lan Wangji says. “Maybe some of them would be of use.” He hesitates. “The talisman you used on me that night,” he begins.
“Oh!” Wei Wuxian blushes. “That was actually an accident.”
“You put the talisman on me by accident?” Lan Wangji asks.
“No... No, it was, ah, intentional. But it turned out to be stronger than I thought it was going to be.”
“How so?”
“I thought it would just affect you for a moment and then you’d shake it off,” Wei Wuxian admits. “You’re such a strong cultivator! Who would have guess the talisman would have controlled you so completely? I just don’t understand why it did.”
“What was it supposed to do then?” Lan Wangji asks.
“Just make you more suggestible. But it shouldn’t have made you do something you didn’t want to do.” He wrung his hands. “At the time I thought I had just worn down your resistance a little! I didn’t realize until you asked to be punished, that you didn’t want to do it so much!”
Lan Wangji looks down. “I wanted to,” he says, slowly. “To drink with you. To have fun. To be carefree.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. “You wanted two contradictory things? To drink with me and to follow the rules?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t kind of me.”
“No,” Lan Wangji agrees.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian turns towards him and as always he’s not prepared for the full impact of Wei Wuxian’s face. He kneels in front of him. “Will you forgive me?”
Lan Wangji can’t help himself from reaching out and touching him, running his thumb along the underside of his pouting lip. “Yes,” he says heavily. “Wei Ying…”
Wei Wuxian bends forward and kisses him gently, and Lan Wangji surges up into him, grabbing onto whatever part of Wei Wuxian came he comes into contact with first.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, but then pulls away, disentangles Lan Wangji’s hands, and holds him at arm’s length. “Lan Zhan,” he says again, and he’s out of breath and flushed but frowning. “Do you still want contradictory things?”
Lan Wangji freezes, slumps back.
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, rumpling his hair. “Okay. I’m, ah, I’m gonna go catch us something to cook for dinner, okay? You keep thinking of a battle strategy.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries, but Wei Wuxian is already out the door.
He’s gone for hours, until the light begins to grow golden with sunset, and then he whirls back in, a brace of pheasants, already plucked and gutted, hung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he says, without looking at him. He throws an armful of wood on the place he’d made the fire the day before and casually lights it with a talisman. He skewers the pheasants and sets them over the fire to cook.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, still sitting on their makeshift bed. “You’re wrong.”
Wei Wuxian laughs at that, finally looking at him. “I’m wrong a lot. What is it this time?”
“You think I want you and don’t want you. But it’s not true. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. So much it terrifies me.”
Wei Wuxian is staring at him now, mouth gaping. “But you…” he begins, but Lan Wangji keeps going.
“It’s against the rules. Without marriage. They would never let me marry you.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, sinking slowly, like a kite when the wind dies down, kneels down on the floor before Lan Wangji, too far away to touch. “But you kissed me. You reached for me.”
“Yes.”
“So much it terrifies you.”
“Yes.”
“Enough to break the rules.”
Lan Wangji looks down. “Yes.”
“I would marry you,” Wei Wuxian says so quickly it takes a moment for Lan Wangji to parse it. “I would. I’ve been obsessed with you forever. You must know- you must have noticed. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have last night, this morning… I wouldn’t have if I didn’t… I don’t just… I know what people think of me, but it’s not true. Lan Zhan.” He shuffles towards Lan Wangji on his knees, through the damp, rotting leaves that cover the ground. “Lan Zhan.” He takes Lan Wangji’s hands in his.
“We can get married. It’s just three bows, right? Our parents are dead. We don’t ever have to tell anyone. Lan Zhan, I already belong to you, so what’s the difference?”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begins, but can’t find the words. He brings their tangled hands up to his lips.
“Do you want to?” Wei Ying asks. “Will you? It’s probably against the rules.”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says and Wei Ying’s face falls and he begins to pull away his hands.
“No,” Lan Wangji says, gripping his hands. “Yes, I do. I want to”
“Oh. Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan reaches up and pulls off his forehead ribbon, binds it carefully around both of their wrists.
“Now?” Wei Ying asks, a stunned look on his face as he watches Lan Zhan carefully ties the ribbon.
Lan Zhan nods and gets to his knees, turning them both to face the open doorway. They bow, once, twice, to the open door and the green world beyond, then they turn and bow to each other.
Wei Ying laughs. “I can’t believe we just did that,” he says, giddy. “Oh,” he says, jumping up, Lan Wangji’s arm, still tied to his, following him. He laughs. “Can I untie this?” he asks. “I’ve got to tend to the pheasant.”
Lan Wangji unpicks the knot around his wrist and ties the ribbon fully around Wei Ying’s. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I will definitely get this dirty in the next five minutes.”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji says.
Technically, the ribbon should have stayed on all night. Technically, he should have gotten the approval of his brother and the elders. Technically, he should have been in seclusion for eight days before the ceremony. Technically, he should have married a woman.
But Wei Wuxian goes to turn the peasants on the spit, then comes back to him, kneels down before him. “You’ve got a tan line,” he says, brushing his thumb across Lan Wangji’s forehead. Lan Wangji catches his hand and kisses the palm.
“Husband,” Wei Wuxian murmurs and then kisses him.
The next day Lan Wangji’s leg is almost fully healed and his spiritual energy is almost fully recovered, but Wei Wuxian still insists on carrying him out to the small pool behind the abandoned house and helping him wash until bathing turns into something more and the silt at the bottom of the pool gets all stirred up and they have to wait on the bank for the pool to clear again so they can rinse off.
When they’re dressed (in clothes Wei Wuxian laundered to the best of his ability), Wei Wuxian shows him a talisman he thought of apparently in the middle of what they were doing last night and it’s too impressive to be annoyed about.
“I got the idea from the Jin messenger butterflies,” Wei Wuxian says, but the butterflies deliver talismans instead of messages. “We use the ‘lowering inhibitions’ talismans and use these butterflies to carry them. The guards get hit with the talismans and start fucking around. No one suspects it’s because of an attack, then when they’re all drunk or whatever, we attack.”
“How will they get drunk?” Lan Wangji asks.
“Oh, believe me, they have alcohol. They’re soldiers, aren’t they?”
“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, “after all they’ve done, you’re still mad they brought alcohol into Cloud Recesses?” He pokes Lan Wangji’s nose lightly. “You’re so cute.”
“Wei Ying, focus,” Lan Wangji says.
“That’s kind of my whole plan,” Wei Wuxian says. “Just hit them with all those talismans, give them a while to lose focus, and come in swords drawn. I’ll make sure I have lots of other talismans prepared too- the heavy-weight one, the energy net one, the distracting sparks one…”
“You’re terrible at naming talismans,” Lan Wangji says.
Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes.
“We’ll go to the Cold Springs Cave first,” Wei Wuxian says. “You sneak in the cave through the Cold Springs to warn your sect to get ready while I use the talismans to distract the guards. Then when they’re incapacitated enough, I’ll give you the signal, and you can come out, swords flashing. Oh, and look,” he says, writing another talisman and slapping it on his chest. Most of him disappears, only a kind of vague outline and the bottoms of his feet showing (disturbingly, the insides of the bottoms of his feet). “It the talisman I used for looking into your leg modified. I haven’t been able to get it perfect, but it’s better than nothing.”
“It’s a good plan,” Lan Wangji says. He doesn’t like that Wei Wuxian is going to be the one outside the cave while he’s the one inside, but Lan Wangji knows Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to get his sect members to follow him.
“I’ll also make delivery talismans with the heavy-weight talismans,” Wei Wuxian says, “which we can use after.”
Lan Wangji nods. “Thank you,” he says.
Wei Wuxian looks at him.
“For rescuing me, and making me see reason, and helping me liberate Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji says.
Wei Wuxan threads their hands together. “We’re married,” he says. “There’s no need for thanks between us. We’ll always be there for each other, right?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji promises.
Lan Wangji ties his forehead ribbon back on and they fly to Cloud Recesses the next day, use Wei Wuxian’s talismans to mostly vanish themselves, make their way to the back hills, and send out the cloud of butterfly delivery talismans.
The Wen cultivators are amazed and at first alarmed, but when the glowing butterflies alight on them without seeming to cause any harm, they react with delight instead. In moments they’re abandoning their posts, most of them wandering off, a few of them getting into fights, one couple falling into each other’s embrace.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchange a look and Wei Wuxian sends off another cloud of butterfly delivery talismans, these seek out the other Wen Cultivators occupying the Cloud Recesses, while Lan Wangji slips into the Cold Springs Cave and Wei Wuxian traps the remaining Wen Cultivators under energy nets.
The Lan Sect members pour out of the Cold Springs Cave, Lan Wangji at their head, and they stream through the Cloud Recesses, killing the distracted and drunk Wen Cultivators as they go until there are none left.
The Cloud Recesses is a mess; half of the sect is dead, half of the buildings are burned, most of the remaining members are injured.
Uncle is too ill to make any decisions. Lan Wangji is alarmed to find himself in charge.
“I’ll send a message to Uncle Jiang asking him to send assistance,” Wei Wuxian offers. Lan Wangji doesn’t know if their sects are close enough for this kind of request, but he agrees anyway.
“Will you tell him?” Lan Wangji asks. “About…?”
“Maybe not right now,” Wei Wuxian says. “Not until you’ve told your family, if you ever…”
This would be the best time to do it, Lan Wangji thinks. When everyone is too distracted by what’s happening to get truly upset, when Wei Wuxian has just risked his life to save them all. And yet he hesitates. They spend their nights in the Jingshi, they’re together as much as they can manage, with Wei Wuxian working on the wards and Lan Wangji making decisions he’s really not qualified to make, and still, he hesitates.
Wei Wuxian tries not to look hurt by it. He swallows and smiles and says, “I knew what I was getting into.”
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and the three strongest elders connect the two wards. Wei Wuxian estimates that they’ll run on the stored power for a year, enough time, he hopes, that they’ll be able to fashion stronger wards.
“I should go now,” he whispers to Lan Wangji later, when they’re in bed together, naked and sweaty, Lan Wangji’s ear pressed against Wei Wuxian’s chest.
And he should; there’s been no word about what’s happening to the sect heirs at the Wen indoctrination, he’s worried about Lotus Pier being attacked like Cloud Recesses was.
“Come back,” Lan Wangji whispers into his hair. He finds his forehead ribbon on the table beside the bed and wraps it around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. “This will let you through the wards. If you need anything, come back.”
Wei Wuxian sends him letters; he finds Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan and the other sect heirs and disciples trapped in a cave with a giant snake-turtle and frees them and kills the turtle with the help of the others. I was barely injured , I promise. I found the strangest sword .
Wei Wuxian sends him his shijie to keep safe. “Lotus Pier is gone,” she tells him, crying. “They drugged me and stuffed me in a carriage. I’m afraid of what they’re going to do.”
Wei Wuxian goes missing. Lan Wangji finds Jiang Wanyin and they search for him for three months. They find Wen cultivators who claim he was thrown in the Burial Mounds. “He was supposed to meet me but I thought he abandoned me and went to find you, again,” Jiang Wanyin tells Lan Wangji. They find his sword, sealed. They find Wen cultivators tortured and talismans manipulated.
They find Wei Wuxian strange and hollow, playing a ghastly flute.
They find Wei Wuxian full of hatred with burning eyes. He looks at Lan Wangji like he never loved him. “What do others know of my heart?” he demands. “And why is it their concern? Who do you think you are?”
“I belong to you,” Lan Wangji says. He takes Wei Wuxian’s wrist with careful hands and loosens the ties of his bracer, slipping it up his hand and pushing up his sleeve to reveal the white ribbon, dirty and torn but still tied there. “You belong to me.”
Wei Wuxian pulls his arm away, wraps his other hand around his wrist, around the ribbon. “Lan Zhan,” he says.
“Husband,” Lan Wangji corrects him.
“Husband? What?” Jiang Wanyin demands from somewhere in the distance.
Lan Wangji wraps his arms around him, presses their foreheads together. Wei Wuxian shivers against him. He’s too thin and too cold.
“Everything is different now,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Lan Zhan, I’m…”
“You’re mine,” Lan Wangji said. “Whatever happened to you, you’re mine.”
The thing that is broken inside of Wei Wuxian is not a bone, not something the body knows how to mend. He wakes screaming and Lan Wangji is there to wrap his arms around him. He wakes sobbing and Lan Wangji is there to kiss away his tears. He wakes begging Lan Wangji to leave him and Lan Wangji is there to remind him of the things they promised each other.
He wakes and Lan Wangji is there.