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They call him the darling of the heavens.
Darling of the heavens. Blessing from the nine gods of prosperity. Mercy of the rageful deity of salvation. Messiah of the unfortunate and the downtrodden. A ray of light, the only beacon of hope for the upcoming generation of the kingdom.
The seventh heir to the throne of Yiling.
Accomplished in the six arts from the young age of five. A master in all the weapons of warfare. Fluent in at least seven languages, and all associated dialects. Faster than the winds on a horse. Agile like a cat in combat. And unparalleled at the sword, even against the masters he was trained by.
The people's prince. The golden boy.
Kind and beautiful and forever smiling. Revered by suitors as a universal charmer. Honored by his peers as an undefeated challenge. Pride of his own nation, and envy of the others. The emperor's utmost joy. The apple of the empress’s eye. Adored by the council of elders, spoiled by the royal servants, and admired by the nobles and the locals alike.
His highness, Prince Wei Wuxian.
The legend goes that he was a difficult baby to conceive, and even more difficult to deliver. Graced upon the empire at its time of utmost need. The king and the queen could not produce an heir within the first five years of their reign, at the end of which, by custom established over generations, the ruler was expected to take concubines. Only, the emperor refused. Instead, he chose to seek help from healers and shamans, as many as he could. When the royal physicians could do nothing, he sent for the accomplished intellectuals around the world who existed only in rumors and stories. While his decision was celebrated by the common folk as the greatest romance to go down in history, the scholars saw it for what it was: a danger to the kingdom's security.
The commoners are simple people, easily won over by stories of goodness and hope. But the learned fractions of the society knew what it entailed. A lack of imperial heir meant instability. It significantly undermined the king's authority. It questioned his right to the throne. It perpetuated uprisings at the hands of covetous nobles who believed they'd be a better fit. And such divide on the inside often left the kingdom vulnerable to attempts of conquest by their ambitious neighbours always looking for opportunities.
Time passed. Two years, and then four. Slowly the novelty of the royal romance began to fade as the clouds of reality darkened overhead. Organized revolts here and there became frequent, fueled by rumours of upcoming wars that everyone wanted to avoid at all cost. It was a dark period for the kingdom, and perhaps the darkest for the queen. She was beloved to her subjects, but the people were helpless in the face of the knowledge that when the war brewed, the harshest brunt would be theirs to bear. The calls for the king to take a concubine grew tenfold.
It was then, during a period of perpetual tension, that a woman arrived in the capital.
A saint from the great mountains of the immortals, they called her. But she insisted that she was merely a disciple physician, sent by her master who specialized in medicinal plants that grew only in the frigidity of the snow-capped mountains, and she had brought with her herbs grown specifically to help the causes of infertility. The king and queen had tried many such herbs over the last seven years, so they had little hope.
But defying all odds, a miracle happened.
Twelve arduous years of struggle and dismay finally came to fruition. The royal family was graced with a child. Their first heir.
It began with a ripple, the insurmountable joy amongst the nobles and commoners alike, but in the blink of an eye, it was spread throughout the kingdom like a wildfire. The shift could be felt in the atmosphere. It could be tasted in the air. During the entire duration of the queen's pregnancy, hundreds of blessings and flowers would be delivered to the palace gates, despite the tripled security. It is said that when the queen went into labour, even her subjects gathered amongst themselves to pray for the safe delivery. But the prince, who took so long to come by, was of course not going to make it easy for anyone. He took his time. Seventy two hours of hard labour before he was born, kicking and screaming.
The miracle of the century.
“How dramatic,” he rolls his eyes.
Old Fei Daiyu, unfortunately, has had seventeen years to get used to his snark. If there's anyone who sees through it, it's her.
She continues unruffled. “And on the day he was born, the whole Yiling was lit up. Lights and colors and celebrations all around. Even the sky was decked with fireworks. It was bigger than any festival we had ever known.”
He cautiously schools his smile.
“And along with our prince, a tradition was born as well. Decreed by His Majesty, your father himself.” Granny Fei’s voice changes, intoning the best approximation of a royal messenger delivering some missive. “That every year on the anniversary of the prince's birth, there will be a kingdom-wide fair. Arranged and funded by the royal treasury. Grants would be given to everyone who wished to make a contribution but couldn't afford it.”
The imagination unfurls, almost longingly, running fast and wild in the expanse of his mind. Color and beauty and joy all around. Not the controlled and curated kind, burdened by custom and sophistication, as here in the palace. No. Not the expensive kind. But real, free, and untamed.
“Now, even years down the line,” Granny Fei neatly finishes off untangling his messy hair. “The prince's birth anniversary continues to be the most joyous occasion for the capital.”
Said prince heaves a large sigh. “For everyone but the prisoner himself.”
“Hush, Your Highness!” The woman lightly flicks his forehead. “You are harsh with your words.”
“Am I wrong, though?” He attempts to turn around but is restricted by her careful fingers massaging oil into his scalp. “Every year on this day, you tell me this story. And every year, you leave out the part where the prince was turned into a prisoner.”
Granny Fei lets out a sigh as well. “That was a traumatic event for us, baobao, especially your parents. You were barely one, and had already survived two assassination attempts.”
“But Minister Gao was captured, Popo,” he shamelessly whines. He has heard this story countless times. “And so were his followers.”
Granny hums in agreement. “But we couldn't afford to take more chances. Not only are you precious to us, but the future of your subjects depends on you.”
There's no valid counter to that so he lets the argument go. Because that is, indeed, the truth. That's how it has always been. The life of a prince belongs more to his subjects than to himself. And Wei Wuxian has not only accepted that, but also appreciated it from a young age. What higher glory could there be than a chance to better the lives of his people. He has never questioned his father's judgement. Or even his own.
But tonight, his eyes surreptitiously row over the lush red carpet in the centre of his lavish bedchamber. Thinking. Wondering.
Longing.
“It's only a matter of one more year,” Granny Fei indulges him, perhaps to coax his disappointment. “Then you will have a lot more freedom.”
She might be naive enough to buy into that, but Wei Wuxian isn't. Next autumn, he will turn eighteen, the preordained age to be introduced to the masses. To finally give a face and a form to the prince the public have come to love and revere so much. So he can have enough time to be prepared for his coronation at twenty one. Next year onwards, he will get to pass the gates of the palace unrestricted. Next year, his birthday fair will be a lot more opulent, because the prince will be gracing it himself, for the first time ever. The preparations for the grand royal procession to present him have already been in play for two years now.
That freedom, however, will come with confines of its own. It will belong to the prince of Yiling. Not just him.
His eyes row over the carpet once more.
“Time to sleep now,” Granny Fei brings him out of his head. “Tomorrow will be a busy day. People are going to start arriving for the banquet in the morning itself.”
He groans internally, already dreading princess Lihua’s needling into his love life, or rather the lack of it. His birthday is always one of the most tiring days of the year, and it's not even because of the numerous exhausting guests. It's the relentless courting attempts that wear him out. Not that he doesn't enjoy being adored or flirted with, but he can never quite tell if the intention stems from love, lust, or greed.
Not that he has ever given love and romance any serious thought beyond his usual cynicism. But still.
Attempts to sleep will be quite futile, he knows, so he tries to occupy himself by staring at the pretty wood carvings on his ceiling. He won't really be able to rest unless he has heard the royal gong announce the start of tomorrow
It's the same ritual every year. The bell goes off, and a cheer erupts, marking the beginning of the crown prince's birthday celebration, and thereby kickstarting the grand fair. Come morning, thousands of people will be gathered outside the palace to send their warm regards for someone they haven't even seen in reality. Outside of those speculative portraits made with input from some lower level royal servants, his subjects don't really know what their prince looks like. His trips out of the kingdom have always been sparse, and on the few occasions they have occurred, they've always been heavily guarded and kept under wraps. His safety was everyone's utmost priority, at least until he could be capable enough to protect himself.
He's adequately warm and drowsy when it happens.
The gong goes off. Once, twice, and then thrice. The prince grins. A loud cheer erupts seemingly from the entirety of the capital, and Wei Wuxian is immediately out of bed, swiftly diving for his night robe and slippers. When he pushes the door open, the guards are already in position, having learnt from years of experience. It makes him laugh.
He breaks into a run and the guards follow. Fond and exasperated, but keeping a reasonable distance.
The corridor erupts in chaos as he parses through the doors that have been left unlatched for him, pushing open gate after gate, until he reaches the watchtower on the outermost periphery of his courtyard.
And then, he begins to climb.
“Your highness,” one of the guards yells. Wei Wuxian can detect a whine in it. “Captain Luo instructed us not to let you climb. Please take the stairs.”
He ignores the request, resolutely finding purchase on whatever brick, whatever rock he can reach. Every year, the head of the prince's guard makes the same instruction, and every year, he is left disappointed. Wei Wuxian does not stop until he has reached the topmost parapet and is swinging around the iron flag pole that bears the Yiling Wei banner. His guards have disappeared from the ground, probably taking the stairs.
Wei Wuxian faces the city and inhales a deep breath in.
The air that was simply a cool breeze on the ground is a harsh cold wind up here, fanning his face and blowing his hair all the way to the back. He chuckles to himself and inhales once more, the refreshing fresh cold almost a relief from the overly protected life he lives down there.
He can view almost the entire town from up here, the vast expanse of it outstretching far and wide. Decked with so many lights and colors that they appear to be stars in the night sky. The loud joyous chatter of the fair reaches him, low as crickets in the quiet of the night, but he can still make it out.
Every year, on this day, he stands here and watches the city come alive at the strike of midnight to celebrate his existence. With the winds in his hair, a smile on his face, and only a tiny fleck of disappointment that he has never really had the chance to see the actual fair.
And although it will all change next year onwards, it still won't give him what he has lost in all this time.
He shakes the thought away before it can linger, as he tends to every time these musings carry him away. It would've been better had he never been made aware of the safe room. Until last year, he had lived with simple acceptance of what could never be. Never needlessly wanting more.
But on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, last year, imperial father unveiled the safe room and the escape tunnel under his room, the construction of which had been underway for almost five years before Wei Wuxian was made aware. With his presentation fast approaching, the threat to his security was also higher. Hence, the precautions.
Only a handful of people know of the tunnel’s existence. His parents, old Fei Daiyu, the general of the royal infantry, the captain of the prince's guard, and now the prince himself.
What it truly did, however, was plant a seed in his head.
A seed he often thought about, but was never brave enough to water. A few secret hours out of the palace shouldn't seem so daunting, but for the boy raised with such tight protection, they seemed like a matter of life and death. And they probably were. Nor were they worth breaking his father's trust over.
But will he ever get another chance?
A warm cloak wraps over his shoulders, efficiently distracting him from the conflict in his mind. He smiles. He doesn't need to ask who it is. There aren't many people brave enough to touch him.
“Blessings and wishes, Your Highness.”
Wei Wuxian feels his eyes roll. “Started missing me already, Captain Luo?”
The man smiles mildly. “It is cold up here.”
He slithers off the parapet, wrapping the cloak closer. It is indeed cold up here. “Sometimes I feel your loyalty lies more with my father than me.”
“Is it not one and the same thing?”
Wei Wuxian laughs, shaking his head. There's no winning here. "Smooth with words, aren't you?"
The walk back to his quarters is not as rushed. He stops multiple times as people—from soldiers to servants to guards—whoever is brave enough, walk up and wish him. By the time he reaches his room, he's twice as exhausted as he was when he left.
Inside, he goes through the motions on autopilot — shrugging off the cloak, replacing his hard slippers with warm woollen shoes, dimming the brazier on his way to the bed. His mind is a jumble of thoughts. Early in the morning, the palace will erupt in chaos that will go on the entire week.
Without any conscious input from his brain, his feet stutter to a stop the moment he reaches the velvet red rug in the centre of the room.
Right above the entrance of the tunnel.
Just a few secret hours of freedom.
He shakes his head. Takes a shuddering breath in. One little mistake will end up compromising his own safety, as well as the security of the kingdom.
This will be your last and only chance.
In his seventeen years of life, he has been impulsive about many things. But never about this.
Will it be really so terrible?
It's either this, or never knowing what it'd be like.
The thought makes him falter a step back. Another large breath, and it's a bit more decisive this time. If he thinks about it for too long, he will lose the nerve.
So he doesn't think about it.
The next few moments happen in the haze of a whirlwind as he locks his room from the inside, takes all of his showy jewelry off (leaving only the red signet ring that marks his identity behind), replaces the shiny cloak with a tattered one, upturns the rug in one swift moment, and haphazardly fishes out a fake beard and moustache from his crate of childhood toys. He's breathing hard by the time he nears the entrance again and flips the door over.
Doing a scary thing is hard only until you actually do it. And then, it becomes the easiest thing ever.
With that final thought in mind, he jumps inside.
For the first few arduously long moments, it is indeed the scariest thing he has ever done. His body seems to break out in hives in one moment, and gets covered in sweat the next. His heart seems to be thundering in his ears, about to jump out. But his feet do not stop. And slowly, gradually, almost lovingly, they begin to settle. The air around him, as well as his heart rate, until the trepidation gripping it is slowly overtaken by the thrill.
By the time he emerges on the other end, the beats in his chest are those of anticipation.
Here on the riverside, it's mostly quiet, but he can hear the fair going on in full flair. It's still nerve wrecking, but he has come too far to back away now.
He puts on the disguise he has brought, pulls the hood low on his face, and sets off.
The tiny lights that he has seen only from the top of the watchtower are much bigger and brighter up close. The crowd, despite it being the middle of the night, is insane with people turning up in large numbers. It's all a little overwhelming. He collides with at least four people, two of whom grumble at him. There are people everywhere, flocking every single food stall, games stall, clothing shop, liquor shop, toy stall, and so on. There are several niche businesses selling plants, kitchen supplies, and home decor. Women seem to be gravitating towards jewelry and accessories, while the children, some small and some his own age, are crowded near the rides, the Ferris Wheel being the most popular one.
He has never seen so much life accumulated in one single moment.
A food stall selling round buns catches his eyes. It's some kind of fluffy bread with a red filling inside. He has eaten a large variety of buns in his life, and yet, somehow, his mind seems convinced those might be the tastiest ones he'll ever get. He doesn't know why. Nor does he have any coins on him.
His finger inches up to his earring. Will be too risky to exchange one for the buns?
The stall owner looks up and grins. “Shuaige, would you like some?”
Wei Wuxian is so startled he stumbles a step back.
The man frowns, glancing up and down at him. “Ahh, xiao-houzi, are you hungry?”
He does not respond. The man's eyes gradually grow sympathetic, probably taking him to be homeless. He places two buns on a bamboo leaf, tops them with some kind of sprinkle and sauce, and offers them to him. Before Wei Wuxian can attempt to refuse, the man is already waving him off. “Ah it's alright, it's okay. It's our prince's birth celebration. I won't let anyone go hungry from my stall tonight.”
Wei Wuxian swallows, oddly touched.
His father often philosophizes how, ironically enough, generosity comes easy to those who don't have much to offer. Maybe this is what he means.
He quietly slips one of his earrings into the stall owner's cash box, then skips away, savouring the buns. They're a bit too sweet for his liking. He gobbles them down to the last bite. And even licks off the sugar afterwards.
Most of his night is spent wandering around, taking in everything around him. He itches to try some of the games, but doesn't have any money for them. Nor can he expect everyone to be kind like the bun seller. So he indulges himself by watching others play. At the ring toss stall, however, the owner gives him a suspicious look that fills him with a moment of anxiety that it's a staff from the palace and he has been recognized.
The man inches close enough to peer under his hood, then yells crudely. “You again! You already took four prizes and you want more? How greedy! Go away! Shoo!”
Wei Wuxian is so terrified he skitters away instantly, a hand on his chest. What a strange man! Just what on earth was that about?
He takes a breath once he's far enough, but is unnerved enough to decide that's his cue to return. He has no idea how long he was here for, but seeing as there has been no movement from the palace, it's obvious he's safe enough. As scary as this was, he's glad he did this. He's almost proud. If he hadn't come here today, he wouldn't ever know what humanity truly looks like, in all its virtue and vice.
Would the bun seller be just as kind when he visits as the prince?
Would the ring-toss man be just as rude if he knew he was the prince?
Perhaps not.
His gaze sweeps around once more, committing as much as he can to memory. He's just about to turn the corner to the riverside when he sees him.
Red ribbon, rowdy hair, and a mouth smudged with chilli.
His steps stutter.
The boy has a figure almost similar to him, if not a little slimmer, clad in black robes that are obviously well worn. He's tall, almost the same height as him. Shoes old, but well maintained. The sash of his robes messily tied, as if he couldn't be bothered with them. But that's not what has frozen Wei Wuxian dead in his tracks. It's the face. His own face, but not on his own body. The same slender nose, high cheekbones, thin lips, even the same dark hair that needs to be oiled and braided every night. Except, the boy's hair is a bit shorter than his own and tied up in a ponytail with a striking red ribbon, the ends of which flutter with every gust of the wind.
Huh…
He's so stumped it takes a while to peel his eyes away from the face. And only then does he realize just how dissimilar their mannerisms are.
The boy has a large white candy in one hand and at least five fishcakes in the other that he's greedily munching on. Every single fishcake, Wei Wuxian notes with some amusement, is scarily red as if it has been dipped into a canister of ground red chilli.
His shock doesn't exactly fade away, but as is the nature of his upbringing, it doesn't persist either. Soon scattering away to give way to… possibilities.
Of all that can be done with this one small discovery.
The thing about blunders is, they start small, and always with apparent joy. The first one is the slowest to occur. But the ones that happen subsequently are like an incoming storm, often clouding your judgement. When fears are no longer a hurdle, even the slightest possibility seems conquerable. The first impulsive step Wei Wuxian had taken took a lot of courage, a lot of second guessing, and a lot of fears. The next one he takes happens instantly. The taste of freedom no different from a carnivore tasting blood for the first time.
His feet move even before his brain fully reconciles with the idea.
So engrossed the boy is in the act of eating fishcakes, he doesn't even notice until Wei Wuxian is close enough to cast a shadow. He looks up and his eyes grow wary. Slowly, he offers one of the fishcakes to him. When Wei Wuxian makes no attempt to accept it, the boy hides the candy behind him.
Wei Wuxian reaches for his arm instead.
“What the fuck!”
He apparently has a pretty bad language as well. The moment Wei Wuxian attempts to drag him to secrecy, the boy starts screaming for help. “Leave me alone! Shushu, help! Shushu, I'm being kidnapped!”
Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and slaps a hand over his mouth as well before dragging him away, thrashing and muffling into his palm. The boy is no match for him in strength as well. He doesn't stop until he's far away from the fair and within the isolation of the riverside.
The moment he's let loose, the boy shoves him away, quickly brandishing two of the fishcake skewers in his face while the other hand securely holds the candy against his chest. The scuffle all the way here has displaced his robes, disarrayed his hair, and dropped three of his five skewers, and yet, the candy somehow remains safe as ever in his grip. Now that he's close enough, Wei Wuxian can make out the little form of it. A candy in the shape of a rabbit. How childish.
“Back off,” the boy yells, inching the skewers closer. “I swear I will shove these into your eyes.”
His mother calls him an ideal son, even though Wei Wuxian is far from that. He was a naughty child, grown into a troublesome teen, who has now broken the only rule that was left to break. He was ideal simply because he was blessed with indulgent parents always quick to overlook.
Quick to forgive.
This one transgression, however, he knows will not be forgiven. He's putting years of effort at stake. His own safety as well as the kingdom's. This will never fly with them.
But then, the devious corner of his mind whispers, nothing will need to be forgiven if nothing gets caught.
He takes a breath, and before he can allow himself to think twice, he lowers the hood and rips the disguise off.
The boy blinks, squinting at his face, and then he gasps, both his hands flying up to close over his mouth.
The rabbit candy finally falls to the ground.
Wei Ying believes he's a simple boy.
Simple, mostly unbothered, though occasionally mischievous. He wouldn't say he has many complaints with life, however simple it may be. He has loving parents who adore him, a comfortable little home with warm meals and cozy bed, ample of friends who encourage his good as well as bad, and a sweetheart who looks at him as if he's hung the moon for him.
All in all, it's a pretty rewarding life, even in its meagreness.
What it does lack is perhaps a bit of… adventure.
Not that his A-die would ever forbid him from seeking some. Or his friends who are always more than prepared to participate in his mischief. But when they think of adventure, the farthest their imagination goes is perhaps night camping in the forest, or a trip to the neighbouring province, or pheasant hunting. His mama would even argue how sharing his birthday with the prince is an adventure in itself, since Wei Ying gets to celebrate it with city wide celebrations. Point being, none of them would find adventure in something like this.
This being: the boy in front of him, wearing Wei Ying's eyes, Wei Ying's nose, Wei Ying's mouth. His whole face.
In theory, he has been taught about probabilities and doppelgangers, and the possibility of one actually finding their doppelganger. He's well aware that hypothetically, there might be several people in the world who look just like him. It has even been a running joke in his family that Wei Ying resembles their prince, His Highness, ever since they stumbled upon a vague sketch of the prince at the fair five years ago. But it's one thing to know you might have a lookalike as some sort of interesting fact, and a whole different thing to see it unfold in front of your eyes. Much less so in the form of the actual prince.
The crown prince of the kingdom your home province belongs to.
For all of Wei Ying's knowledge and awareness, it's still a moment of heartstopping shock when the boy lowers his hood and rips the fake beard off. A moment of surreal disbelief when he presents his signet ring to prove that he is, indeed, Prince Wei Wuxian himself. A moment of utter bewilderment when the golden boy ultimately proposes his foolish scheme.
Surely, princes aren't raised with this kind of naivety. This is a compromise of not just his own safety, but also the nation's. Surely, this is illegal somewhere.
But Prince Wei Wuxian is seemingly excellent at compartmentalization. Despite the initial shock, he seems to see his sudden discovery with all the expertise of a war general trained to look at every situation as an opportunity to make the most of it. Which he probably is.
“The risks are there, but your safety will be my responsibility,” the prince says, voice crisp and decisive. “Think of it as a small timeout, hardly anything will change in the aftermath.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Uncertain. But then again, Wei Ying can't remember the last time he was this intrigued by something. It was probably the grim and grumpy six-year-old Lan Zhan, whom little Wei Ying had taken one look at and decided to get under his skin. The outcome of which has been one of the best things to have ever happened to him.
That's how he has always been. With a relentless, niggling penchant. For exploration. For adventure.
And swapping places with the only prince of his kingdom does indeed sound like an adventure. A dangerous, crazy, unhinged adventure, but an adventure nonetheless. A week at the palace. A week in the life of a prince. Exciting doesn't even begin to cover it. If he's completely honest, the danger actually adds to the thrill.
“What if I take advantage?” he asks, just to test the waters. “Surely, you are aware of all the ways this can blow up in your face.”
Prince Wei Wuxian gives him a lopsided grin, dangerous and cutting-edge. It makes his eyes appear darker. Wei Ying wonders if his own smile is anything like that. Probably not. Lan Zhan says his smile is sweet. Brash but honeyed, with an undercurrent of silk in it, according to his sappy, poetic verbiage.
“You're a simple boy,” says the prince. “You have no idea of all the ways you can be made to disappear, should you become a nuisance to me."
A shudder vibrates through him, even as Wei Ying bristles. “Are you threatening me?”
The prince laughs out loud. “Did you not just do the same?”
Touché.
Wei Ying ignores him. Focuses on the case in hand instead, mind already galloping faster than a horse. Weighing the pros and cons. The merits and demerits. Figuring the tactics, as well as the dangers, all with the efficiency of a practised mischief planner.
“Don't think too much,” the prince offers. He's obviously much better at working out the logistics of a detrimental endeavour than Wei Ying is. “Like I said, in the grand scheme of things, it's nothing but a small blip. Some stolen time, and then we return to our old lives with predestined fates.”
When put like that, it does seem simple.
Not that he believes this scheme to be foolproof, or his people to be stupid, but by the time the band is stretched thin enough, Wei Ying will already be long home. Moreover, a lifetime experience like this is sufficiently worth some risks. There's no reason he shouldn't.
None except…
Except Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan, Wei Ying's precious beloved, the light of his life, and an absolute spoilsport when it comes to adventure. The boy is a worrier. He will never agree to this. And even if he does—on the off-chance that Wei Ying manages to make him relent under the full force of his puppy eyes—Lan Zhan cannot lie to save his life. And he specifically cannot lie to Wei Ying's mother, whom he seems to share a weird sisterhood with, if that even makes sense. Sooner or later, he will slip up, and that won't be a blunder Wei Ying's father will overlook. He's much less stern compared to his mama, but much more protective too.
But if Wei Ying decides to tell Lan Zhan after he's back from the palace, then it would mean that for one whole week, Lan Zhan is going to be under the impression that the prince is Wei Ying.
Even the thought is unacceptable.
He clears his throat. “Just so you know, I have a betrothed as well.”
He's totally lying. There's no formal arrangement between their families. Lan Zhan is simply his sweetheart, his soulmate, if he were to be more cheeky. But the Royalty, as he has heard, take things like betrothals way more seriously than they would an ordinary relationship.
The prince's eyebrow shoots up. “How old are you again?”
If only he still had the skewer in his hand. “Old enough! And that's not the point! I'm telling you my parents aren't the only ones. There's someone else too.”
The prince's eyes drop to the candy on the ground, now crushed to pieces. “Was that for her?”
Wei Ying feels a smile pull on his face. “Him.”
And just as quickly, he feels it disappear too, remembering the gigantic effort it had taken to get the candy in the perfect shape. Seven tries, one full hour of whining, and Old Man Chen’s continuous grumbling. “You're paying for that by the way! Do you have any idea how expensive custom made candies are? Getting that one cost me a month's worth of pocket money!”
The prince's head tilts, the sharpness in his eyes blending into a confused curiosity. As if he doesn't understand. For someone so used to looking at problems with an intent to solve them, this lost look in his eyes is kind of comical on him.
“You love him?”
“Very much,” Wei Ying answers promptly. This isn't something he needs to think over. “I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember.”
This time, both of the prince's eyebrows go up. He blinks for a moment, then mutters, “That's a huge commitment for someone who's only seventeen.”
Wei Ying grins with derision. “Spoken like a true jailbird.”
The way the prince's eyes harden, it's very clear Wei Ying has managed to hit a nerve. Though he doesn't seem to want him dead yet. Instead, the prince sighs. “Well, this complicates everything. We will now have to bring someone else onboard, and too many people is a sureshot recipe for disaster.”
“Ahh, nononono. No way in hell,” Wei Ying is frantic. “We absolutely cannot tell Lan Zhan. He's a terrible liar.”
The prince frowns. “Then what do you suggest?”
“A deal, of course,” says Wei Ying without flinching at all. “If you truly want me to agree to this, then I have a condition. You cannot touch Lan Zhan, at all.”
Prince Wei Wuxian gawks, undoubtedly at his audacity. “Why the hell would I—”
“You can be friendly with him,” Wei Ying goes on undeterred. “But don't even think about getting handsy. I swear to gods if I find out—”
“Just stop right there,” the prince's finger is suddenly in his face. “Why on earth do you seem to think I'm dying to touch your lover? I don't even know him. What kind of pervert do you take me for?”
Wei Ying shrugs. “You haven't met him yet.”
A muscle in the prince's jaw ticks. He speaks slowly. “Well, no offence, but I've had more than my share of pretty people to touch. I don't need more, and certainly not a taken one.”
“No offence taken,” Wei Ying puts his hands up. “You don't take it personally either. Like I said, it's not about you. I just wanted to give a heads up.”
“What you gave me was a threat,” the prince points out.
Wei Ying grins. “I'm glad you're aware.”
For a moment, it seems like the prince is about to hit him on the head. And when he speaks, it's with a lot of distaste. “I don't think it's me you should be worrying about, since I'm not the one who's going to be blindsided. And I'm sure—” his dark eyes rack Wei Ying up and down, almost insultingly, “—talking isn't what you do when you two are alone.”
“Oyi!” Wei Ying snaps.
“Oh please, don't give me that,” the prince dismisses him off. “You're not a prude. You're stupidly in love. And there's obviously a reason you're imposing such a condition on me.”
Wei Ying glares, mostly because the prince is right, and he can feel the blood rushing up his face. It's not anybody's business what Lan Zhan and him do. And it's definitely not fair to imply such debauchery about them when they haven't even moved past kissing yet. Or some occasional heavy-duty necking. Or.... no, that one time when he pressed Lan Zhan on the wall behind the rabbit meadow to makeout, he can swear it was Lan Zhan who moved his waist first. It wasn't Wei Ying's doing. He has only ever relied on his hand for that.
“That's what I'm saying,” he grits out. “Make an excuse if he tries to… get close. Whenever you are with him, pretend to be down with the flu or something. I don't know, take your pick. But keep your distance.”
The prince is massaging his forehead now as if he's nursing a massive headache. “Listen. I don't know why you seem to think everyone's out to get your boy, but okay. You can rest assured. I have no interest anyway."
It's not that he had thought the prince would be untrustworthy, but hearing that is indeed nice. If nothing else, he's at least sure the prince cares about the throne and His Majesty’s reputation more than his passing whims. He won't put that into jeopardy.
With that particular kink worked out, it's easier to focus on the rest of the plan.
Ten days. They decide they'll invest ten days into preparation to thoroughly learn each other's lives and habits, meeting at this same spot on the riverside every night after the last royal bell.
And thus begins the phase one of this seemingly suicidal adventure plan that neither of them can bring themselves to call off, because on the outset, it's also the most exciting thing they've ever embarked upon.
During the day, he spends his time as he has for years: playing, eating, annoying Lan Zhan, and pretending to study. And at night, he learns how to be a prince, while simultaneously teaching His Highness how to not be a prince.
The observations are easy to learn. All the nooks and crannies of surviving in the guise of someone else without risking being caught. Body language and way of talking, likes and dislikes, do's and don'ts, birthmarks and scars, friendships and other relevant relationships, and whatever else that can give them away.
Amongst these observations also comes the knowledge that while they have exactly the same face and a largely similar countenance, fundamentally, they're different. Because of the lives they've lived. The circumstances that have built them up. The individual deviations that make them who they are.
With the clothes on, the difference isn't noticeably prominent. But underneath them, it's hard to ignore.
Wei Ying's own body is slimmer in comparison, and a lot more supple. Prince Wei Wuxian, in contrast, has well-built abs and hard, toned torso muscles that Wei Ying prays Lan Zhan won't notice. For more reasons than one.
The scars on Wei Ying's body are less in comparison, mostly obtained due to falls and injuries in childhood. But the crown prince bears much more prominent scars, mostly from his various training sessions. He's also a lot more pale under the clothes, unlike Wei Ying who is sufficiently tanned from spending too much time in the water and under the sun.
They discuss family members at length. Apart from Lan Zhan, Wei Ying tells the prince about his many friends. How they all attend the same classes, and are always pulling him into one or the other trouble. In turn, he gets to know about Prince Wei Wuxian’s people. How he's closest to the Granny Fei Daiyu, who raised him since he was newborn infant, how his parents, while the most affectionate, are seldom able to spend time with him, and how he doesn't really have many friends, because he only ever had the palace people to surround himself with, for whom he was the prince first and a friend later.
On the day they have to swap places, Wei Ying gives Lan Zhan an extra long kiss on their way back from school. And his mother an extra long hug. Just for the sentimentality of it all.
At night, when they meet at their designated place by the riverside, Prince Wei Wuxian hands him his signet ring, crimson red and proudly bearing the royal seal engraved with his official name. “Keep this with you at all times. This will be your biggest shield while at the palace. Everyone follows the bearer of this ring. If anything happens, show it to my father and he will believe you without question.”
In return, Wei Ying reminds him of the promise the prince has made him. The condition of their arrangement. The difference in priorities is surely strange. "I will tell him everything once I'm back. Make sure I like everything I hear in return.”
The prince rolls his eyes. “I can assure you I have not a shred of interest in your Lan Zhan, or whatever his name is.”
Wei Ying hadn't really second guessed this plan. Not once. But the uncaring expression on the prince's face gives him a pause. Or maybe, it's just a moment of weakness, since he's not going to be able to see Lan Zhan for a week. In eleven years of knowing him, there hasn't been a single day that Wei Ying hasn't seen his face. Or heard his voice.
“Don't be rude to him either,” he says, a bit softer.
The prince's eyelid twitches. “Make up your mind, will you?”
“No, I'm serious,” he repeats. His chest suddenly feels tight. “Don't be mean to him. And don't act too distant. He's very perceptive; he will get hurt. He won't say it out loud, but he will get very hurt.”
It's perhaps the pleading in his voice that makes the prince sigh. "Anything else, young master?"
“Just…” Wei Ying takes a breath. He suddenly doesn't like this idea very much. “Be kind to him. And treat him nicely. But from a distance.”
The prince gives him a pitiful look, though he doesn't push, perhaps in consideration of all that he's getting out of this. “These are too many instructions for someone I have never met, but okay. I understand.”
He supposes this is as good as it will get. The rest depends on fate. Turning around, he follows the tunnel path he has learnt over the past ten days to the prince's room in the imperial palace, while Prince Wei Wuxian follows the muddy deserted path to Wei Ying's home. He hopes the prince will be able to sneak in without waking his parents up.
Maybe, he could have been a little less insufferable about it all. The prince's upstanding character has always been the talk of the town. Even before Wei Ying met him, he was aware of his honor and integrity. There's no reason to be hung up on his concerns. He's certain the prince will manage it all will ease.
Just how hard can it be?
Very hard. As it turns out.
Seeing as the very next day, the crown prince Wei Wuxian has the misfortune of waking up in a too-small bed under a plain wall ceiling to an unknown mysterious face closely peering at him, somehow managing to encompass the entire world's worth of disapproval into two thinly pressed lips so early in the morning.
It's possibly the most beautiful face he has ever seen. That, or he's still way too deep in his dreamland.
"You are late again," says the face grimly, and alright, that deep, rich voice is definitely not a haze or a dream. "Ayi is going to be furious."
The face has big light eyes, supple pink lips, hair loosely braided with bangs fanning a pair of slightly plump cheeks and falling over a firm shoulder clad in delicate blue robes bordered with thread embroidery on the edges and plain in the middle.
When all he does is blink and not respond, the face inches closer, roughly grabs him by the midriff with both hands, and drags him off the bed all the way to… to…. to dump him into a tub already brimming with warm water, causing a splash all around which he himself somehow manages to escape.
And Wei Wuxian’s brain finally kicks into action.
This must be...
The face—Lan Zhan, Wei Ying's Lan Zhan, he corrects himself internally—simply draws up the privacy screen and saunters away behind it, talking quietly.
"I have copied your punishment this time, Wei Ying," he says. His voice is firm, but very soft. Almost melodious. "But next time, I will tell Ayi."
Something tells Wei Wuxian that the boy will, indeed, tattle on him should he do anything to warrant a punishment again. He blinks twice more, and then shakes his head to break himself out of the stupor. Once he's awake enough, it's easier to remember what all Wei Ying had taught him and take charge of the situation. He makes a quick job of undressing, bathing, and getting dressed once again in the robes already put out for him, lest the pretty boy come back and insist on dressing him himself, and quickly emerges back into his room where the pretty boy—Lan Zhan, he corrects again, Wei Ying's Lan Zhan for heaven's sake—is now busy making his bed neat and tidy, as if folding someone else's blanket is something he does everyday. Which he probably does.
“Did you finish the mathematics work?” he asks, fluffing up the pillow covers. Wei Wuxian has not a lick of idea of any mathematics assignment, and knowing Wei Ying, he's not going to be very hopeful about it. “I am confused about the last problem. I think my procedure might be inaccurate.”
Wei Wuxian can detect a very obvious hint of sulking in his tone, even though the boy's face is turned away. He's very clearly someone who doesn't like his answers to be wrong.
Without preamble, the boy—Lan Zhan—retrieves a thin stack of parchments from the study desk and inches closer to him, a little too close for comfort, and Wei Wuxian's entire body stiffens. Lan Zhan doesn't notice, busy as he is pointing to something on the paper. Wei Wuxian tears his eyes away from his pale, slender fingers and attempts to focus on what he's seeing. This, he realizes, he can do. Mathematics isn't only his favourite subject but also his strongest one and looking at the worksheet he's being shown, the public schools definitely don't advance at the same pace as the prince's curriculum does, differential calculus being something he got versed in almost two years ago.
He clears his throat. “Y-You’ve followed the same pattern as the previous problems here.” Somewhat clumsily, he inches closer to the desk and lifts one of the brushes before dipping it into the blotter. His fingers shake as he writes the solution, remembering only halfway that he should botch some of the characters since Wei Ying's handwriting is supposedly pretty bad. “You need to invert the function before you begin solving.”
Lan Zhan peers at him. “Are you feeling alright?”
He makes himself laugh, a little too loudly. “Of course. Why?”
The boy shakes his head, focusing back on the problem. Apparently, he finds the explanation satisfactory enough, because moments later, his face relaxes into what can only be surmised as pleased. He's not smiling at all, but Wei Wuxian can tell.
“I'm glad you are working on your handwriting, it is improving,” says Lan Zhan, retrieving the red ribbon from the dresser and casually turning Wei Wuxian around to tie it over his ponytail. Wei Wuxian nearly breaks out into hives at his touch on his scalp.
Just as casually, Lan Zhan moves back. Collects the rest of his stuff, and heads out. "Are you coming?"
It takes a while for Wei Wuxian to find his bearings.
Wei Ying's mother is indeed angry. She gives him a raised eyebrow look that makes her appear a lot more strict than even his own mother, the imperial consort.
The moment Wei Wuxian is within her reach, her hand reaches out. He deflects, wholly on instinct.
The woman frowns, and easily grabs him from the other side. Her fingers quickly push into his hair and twist his ear. And Prince Wei Wuxian squeaks. It doesn't hurt at all, and yet, he squeaks out loud, simply from the shock of such an act. Never in his life has he been scolded before, let alone manhandled like this.
"You keep this up and I will forbid A-Zhan from accompanying you to school at all.”
Wei Wuxian swallows.
"Am I understood?" Her eyes drift to his other ear.
“Y-Yes, Mother.” It just comes out.
A beat of silence, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Lan Zhan turn to him. Another beat, and he makes himself laugh. Again. Way too loud. The cheekiest approximation he can pull off of Wei Ying. “Aiyaah,” he pats on her hand still holding his ear. “Yes mama, I understand. How can I not when you threaten me like this everyday? Aren't you too cruel?"
Wei Ying's mother's eyes narrow. Though all she does is turn away, muttering to herself. "Just what am I supposed to do with this menace?”
For all her anger, before Wei Wuxian heads out, she still hands him a large, warm parcel that seems to be food, neatly tied-up in leaves and cotton cloth.
It's not until they're out of the house, walking side by side, that he realizes just how out of sorts he has been. He's still in the middle of processing the morning when Lan Zhan reaches for his hand.
Wei Wuxian jumps.
It startles Lan Zhan as well. "What is it?"
"N-Nothing," he vehemently shakes his head. "Just thinking about something."
The boy frowns but lets it go, and Wei Wuxian makes himself inhale a large, deep breath to calm down.
And that is how it begins.
Prince Wei Wuxian’s week-long new life as a simple boy of seventeen.
A life where he wears inexpensive robes hand-sewn by his father, sleeps in a small bed that he often falls out of in the middle of the night, eats food cooked lovingly by a mother, goes to a school with lesser advanced curriculum instead of having overqualified private educators, gets punished when he's disobedient, has friends who aren't afraid of making fun of him, and wakes up to a devastatingly pretty face that keeps threatening to tell on him.
A few of these changes are easy to incorporate. Welcome even.
Being without gold-embroidered robes and a tonne of accesories is magically freeing. He especially doesn't miss the heavy headdress he often has to wear for formal appearances. He feels like he's in his night pajamas all day long, and finds the idea rather appealing. He also finds that he loves the thrill of doing whatever he wants without having to account for every single minute of the day.
It's almost like a vacation. Which it admittedly is.
Except for the part where he gets scolded regularly. If he whines about vegetables, unlike the palace attendants who would scramble in his service the moment he expressed disapproval, Wei Ying's mother twists his ears and threatens to lock him up if he doesn't finish all the greens in his food.
He, bizarrely, likes that, even if he has to gulp down the food with water.
Wei Ying's father takes him along for grocery runs every evening. It's their assigned father-son time. At the end of each haul, whatever change is left from the grocery budget, he sweetly slips it into Wei Wuxian's pocket. The prince stores that money in his pouch as a keepsake because he's sentimental like that.
Even Wei Ying's friends are easy to get along with, mostly because they're not the brightest lot. Xiao Qian, a timid boy with sharp, knowing eyes often reminds him of Nie Huaisang, Duke Nie’s younger brother. Then there's Mianmian, as fierce as Captain Luo’s daughter back at the palace. His favourite has to be Wen Ning. The sweetest to talk to and the easiest to fool.
Overall, this little plan of his seems to be serving the purpose well.
Almost all of his objectives are met. He gets to experience what an ordinary life is. He gets to be the free teen boy that he so dearly wished to be. And he gets observe the challenges of the commonfolk too, building up a thorough understanding of all the ways he can make their lives better once he's crowned.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it's the basic necessities that turn out to be the trickiest because they require regular investments. The things Wei Wuxian has grown up taking for granted are practically a luxury here. Things like books and paper. Ink and brushes. Right to education is an important percept in Yiling's official social code. And yet, it's not enough. Even in Wei Ying's home, a large chunk of his father's earnings goes into his son's education, and that is an expense they cannot do without, because they want him to have a future better than theirs. They make small sacrifices every single day while simultaneously sparing no expense for their child. More than once, he has heard them discuss the monthly budget in hushed, soft voices when they think he's fast asleep.
He makes a mental note for that to be the first thing he discusses with his father once he's back. If nothing else, he'll make sure the price of paper, at least, goes vastly down by next year.
And then there are changes that are harder to get used to.
Lan Zhan, precisely.
His affections and touches feel as illicit as they are. Wei Wuxian remains cordial, as much as he can, but the constant effort of it grates on him. With how frequently Lan Zhan talks to him, it's hard to believe he's the same person who gives monosyllabic responses when they are around other people. For someone Wei Ying had claimed to be averse to touch, Lan Zhan seems to have long made an exception for this one boy. Which, of course, he has. Good for them. But that also means it makes things harder for Wei Wuxian. In a different context, he would have loved teasing the hell out of him. As things are, he has to constantly cling to an awkward one-sided distance. Worse, he has to do it while making sure he doesn't end up hurting the boy's feelings. It's burdensome. Borderline annoying.
And then there's the way Lan Zhan looks at him. All knowing, intense, ever-consuming. He has seen plenty of people in love. But he's never witnessed such single-mindedness in a pair of eyes. As if the world is round, and Wei Wuxian is the centre of it. As if nobody else exists when he's around. Adoring his virtues and accepting his flaws without exception. So utterly soft but so focused it almost feels sharp. It overwhelms him despite the knowledge that it's not for him.
Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to do with it.
Meanwhile, away at the palace, surrounded by golden walls and lavish chandeliers, Wei Ying has the time of his life.
At least in the beginning.
He gets to sleep in a ridiculously large bed and for as long as he wants, though it gets frowned upon when he actually exerts that liberty. He gets to eat dishes that are served only at the royal table, and more excitingly, gets to demand all the fried spicy goodness and discard all the greens without fuss. He also gets to study only what he wants and when he wants, without a shred of scolding. Apparently Prince Wei Wuxian has not only advanced to the higher classes but is also considered responsible enough to choose his own curriculum according to what he sees fit.
Most of all, he gets to try things he could never have even dreamt of. Horse riding. Fencing. Rafting. Salsa. Despite the prince's stern instructions to take a few days off from regular training, he goes to those sessions too. Just to have fun. And fun he has, because no matter how bad he performs, no instructor dares to punish him. When he fumbles, they simply assume he's goofing around because he's not in the mood to practise. People basically adjust themselves to accommodate his whim, though he can also read on their faces just how unusual it is coming from their prince.
There's also a frequent outpouring of letters and presents. Love letters, mostly anonymous; courtship offers, mostly from people of similar designation as him; and simple fan mails expressing their endless admiration with little gifts. They're amusing, to say the least. The prince obviously holds little regard for them though, seeing as he doesn't hoard them at all. In a moment of utter deviousness, Wei Ying wonders the merits of replying to one of the courtship letters before he leaves. Just to lay out some welcome-back-home surprise for his highness.
He stores the mails in the chamber under the prince's bed with a mental note to remind him of them on the last day. All apart from a few shiny trinkets, a fragrant perfume pouch, and a particularly pretty jade hairpin that he quietly slips into his satchel for Lan Zhan.
All in all, he feels quite like what his current temporary designation is.
He feels like the crown prince.
And yet, while outwardly lustrous, the life at the palace is also stifling. For all the abundance and luxury, that sense of fulfilment is almost never there. Simply because ideals like honor and glory have never meant as much to Wei Ying. He has grown up valuing family and friendship in their plainness. He has not had the royal upbringing. Unlike Prince Wei Wuxian, who was brought up by heroes and warriors, and who has grown up surrounded by these weighty expectations, Wei Ying's life has always been ordinary. Ambitious and adventurous in its essence, yes, but when all is said and done, he's just a simple boy whose dearest dream is to own a nice little farm with a few chickens, and live comfortably with the love of his life. Who, he hopes, will be his husband by then.
When the novelty of this power and grandeur fades, there will be no purpose for him here.
Prince Wei Wuxian is a coddled child, he can tell, but he's also a lonely one. His majesty is an overly caring father, but, at the end of the day, he's also the father of an entire nation that he has to look after. The imperial mother, while very affectionate, often has to travel overseas in her husband's stead. She might have been the one who birthed him, but she isn't the one who raised him. Wei Ying cannot imagine having to share his parents like that. He can have ample varieties of fancy chilli sauces here that he gets to eat in abundance with no scolding, and he still won't exchange them for the one that his mama makes for him in their small kitchen. He can be laden with a treasure chest worth of gold, and will still miss A-die's little savings at the end of evening grocery trips.
Even his friends are non-negotiable. His little group of idiots who are forever ready to go down with him, he won't exchange them for the world. Prince Wei Wuxian's friends are many, but very few of them seem to be what he needs. They're not bad friends, they will even take the sword meant for him. But there's always a line that the difference in their stations cannot cross. He's always the crown prince first.
The only person Wei Ying would steal from the palace, if he could, is Granny Fei. The old woman who raised the prince. If nothing else, Wei Ying is certainly going to miss her oiling his hair every alternate night, while telling him a random outrageous story, as if he's six and not seventeen.
So while Wei Ying is, indeed, having the time of his life living like a prince, this royal indulgence is merely a vacation. Once his time here ends, he's going to remember the palace only as a fond memory.
As much as he loves sleeping till late, he dearly misses waking up to Lan Zhan's disapproving pretty face.
He had been thoroughly warned, and yet, it catches him off-guard how observant Lan Zhan is.
If Wei Wuxian had to hazard a guess, he would say Lan Zhan began to clock something amiss by day two itself. Not because he asks out loud but it's more in the way he acts. It's the one too many concerned glances, the unusually long stretches of silence, the aborted, hesitant movements of his hands as if he doesn't know what to do, that cue him in. And Wei Wuxian knows it's not fair, it's not fair at all. Nor does he wish to cause him hurt. Not only because Wei Ying asked him not to, but because he really truly cannot bring himself to fathom the idea.
But he also doesn't know what he can do.
He attempts to be less awkward with his mannerisms. He knows Wei Ying is an inherently clingy person, and he has to be much more so with someone he's in love with. So this sudden flinching and stiffness must be incredibly unusual for Lan Zhan. The wrongness of it must be incredibly evident. Especially since his discomfort seems to be only with Lan Zhan. He even tries to smile more for him. Tries to be more open, more at ease, more indulgent.
And yet, he can sense Lan Zhan growing steadily antsy. He can feel him struggling to give Wei Wuxian space while simultaneously scouring for reassurance. The boy doesn't say anything, but keeps finding ways to spend more time with him. Sometimes, he would join the family for evening tea, and other times, he would simply tell Wei Wuxian there's a lesson he needs help with so they can study together.
The more it happens, the more Wei Wuxian feels like a jerk.
But Lan Zhan seems determined to figure out some other language to communicate with him if verbal one is not an option right now. He tries to give him time and space. Tries to be patient and wait. But ultimately, his fears apparently win over. For his touches grow urgent, more frequent, and his affections more generous. Almost desperate. As if he's trying to make up for Wei Ying's own inability to reach out to him.
Unsurprisingly, it bubbles over very soon.
One evening, when they're sitting on the bed, going through another mathematics lesson, Lan Zhan attempts to lean on him, only for Wei Wuxian to startle and shake him off.
He doesn't register the gravity of it at first, not until he takes a look at Lan Zhan's face that has fallen as if dropped from a cliff, suddenly devoid of any color, and Wei Wuxian gets to see firsthand just why Wei Ying was so adamant on not being cruel to him. Because that is indeed a look that doesn't belong on that pretty face. It makes him feel like a baby killer.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, hand hovering by his side, unsure what to do.
But Lan Zhan doesn't respond. He only stares down at the ground. There's a slow panic ringing through the walls of Wei Wuxian's gut. Moments later, Lan Zhan steps out and kneels by the bed. So they can face each other. And he looks up with the slightest wobble in his lips, hesitantly placing a hand on Wei Wuxian's knees.
“Did I… do something?”
There's unabashed vulnerability on his face. It catches Wei Wuxian off-guard. For all his training and battle drills, he was never prepared for this. This suspended moment of extreme fragility in which he's on the bed, towering over Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan is on the ground, peering up at him with his large frightened eyes brimming with confusion.
It makes him feel disgusted in himself.
“At least talk to me, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan continues. The slightest quiver in his voice. “If I did something—”
“It's nothing, I just seemed to have caught the flu.” It rushes out of Wei Wuxian all at once, the pathetic lie Wei Ying had equipped him with. “I just… I just don't want to pass it to you.”
Lan Zhan stares up at him. He's clearly aware that's not all. But he doesn't question it. He takes the out he has been given, and mercifully gets back on his feet.
“Is there fever too?” The back of his fingers feel through Wei Wuxian's forehead and cheeks, his touch utterly gentle. “Is that why you've been wearing extra layers these days?”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “What?”
Lan Zhan reaches for his pulse point. “You seemed heavier than usual the other morning. I was wondering if you were cold.”
Wei Wuxian chuckles, swallowing. “Yes, no, I mean, there's no fever. Just a bit of a cold.”
Lan Zhan nods. "I will brew you some some balm."
“Are you always like this?”
Once again, it just comes out. Unintended. Reckless. Almost in a rush. Without any input from his brain. He doesn't know why he feels so untethered.
Lan Zhan pauses on his way out.
“I mean,” Wei Wuxian clears his throat, forcing a smile through his revolting insides. “Why are you always like this? You're clearly hurt. Shouldn't you be upset with me? Yell at me, maybe?"
Lan Zhan turns, his eyes narrowed. “Are you craving a fight?”
He laughs. It emerges watery.
The drawn up lines on Lan Zhan's face soften, so much that it's palpable even on a face so clearly unused to expression. The boy moves closer, cradling Wei Wuxian's cheek in one hand while the other tucks the rowdy strands of hair behind his ear. “Are you alright? What are these questions?”
This time, Lan Zhan is the one towering above him. Except, he's holding Wei Wuxian's face in his hands with all the gentleness of something precious.
Wei Wuxian shrugs.
Lan Zhan heaves a little sigh. "While I am aware you like fighting very much, you are not one to get upset over trivialities. And you are definitely not one to take things out on me. You are the kind who complains loudly, Wei Ying, you close off only when you're struggling with something.”
He swallows. That's possibly the longest he has ever heard Lan Zhan speak in one go. And the boy is not being sweet or sombre or anything. He's distracted even, searching for something on the bedside table. Speaking as if he's only stating the obvious. Which he perhaps is. And yet, Wei Wuxian finds himself staring. Unable to look away at all.
“So, it is alright,” says Lan Zhan. His eyes spot what he was looking for. The pot of herbal balm. “Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. I will be here when you wish to talk.”
Wei Wuxian still doesn't look away. “I'm hurting you.”
The corners of Lan Zhan's lips lift. He lightly boops his nose. "You are allowed to.”
Months down the line, when Wei Wuxian will look back, he will recognize this particular moment as the one where the blunder of all blunders began. Where despite his better judgement, the crown prince began to fall for a commoner.
But right then, he fails to notice it at all.
Not when Lan Zhan returns with the balm and applies it on his neck, chest, and forehead with his own hands. Not when Lan Zhan oils his hair the next morning and ties it primly with the red ribbon that doesn't belong to him. Not when Lan Zhan drinks the disgusting flu medicine concoction just to give him company.
It happens quietly.
He doesn't realize how quickly he goes from reluctant to welcoming of the touches that are still as illicit as they once were. He doesn't realize when he starts smiling without feeling the strain on his cheeks. He doesn't realize when he begins restraining less and relaxing more with all the things he had drawn a strict boundary around.
Not until the evening they're beside the lake and Lan Zhan places his head on his shoulder and Wei Wuxian doesn't flinch.
He freezes instead. His body freezes because it doesn't flinch at all. The blood in his veins steadily turns to ice as Wei Wuxian's gaze comes to settle on Lan Zhan’s hand in his own, their fingers loosely slotted, having no recollection when they slithered in together.
The realization comes slowly, painstakingly, corroding the thickly woven walls of his fool's paradise. But it comes nevertheless. A splash of cold sobering him up.
Most of all, it comes with a mercy—or perhaps a punishment—for it comes only a day before he has to leave.
He's almost relieved when he hits the bed that night, despite his heart being in turmoil. The sorrow budding in his chest has no business being there and for once, he's glad for everything to return to its place as quickly as possible. Him, to the lavish golden walls of his palace, and Lan Zhan, to the one he rightfully belongs.
On the morning of the night he's supposed to leave, Lan Zhan wishes to take his rabbits for an outing to the riverside meadow they were brought from. Wei Wuxian didn't even know Lan Zhan had rabbits, though it certainly checks out with all those rabbit doodles on the back of Wei Ying's notebooks.
It's a pair of two utterly chonky rabbits. Both male, and so very obviously loved and spoiled that he can barely keep himself from teasing. “How plump! They will surely make the most delicious stew in existence.”
And just like that, Lan Zhan's soft face turns into a glaring balloon. “You promised you would never make that joke again.”
Uh Oh.
“Ahh, I'm sorry,” he offers.
But Lan Zhan is in no mood to listen. He scoops his chubby fur babies up in his arms and pissily stalks away, muttering under his breath, “They are not fat. They are just healthy.”
Wei Wuxian follows, carefully keeping the laughter out of his face. “I didn't call them fat, I called them plump.”
Lan Zhan walks away faster. "You should not have given them to me if you wanted them for dinner."
He does not pause until he has stomped all the way to the riverside and is breathing hard. Wei Wuxian is wheezing by the time he catches up, “Okay, okay. What can I do to make up for my crimes? Should I get you some sweets? A candy?”
Lan Zhan gives him a look. “Am I a child?”
Wei Wuxian wants to say yes. He doesn't. Instead, he reaches for Lan Zhan's hand, violently stomping on the lump of guilt in his belly. It's his last day. He won't get another chance. “How about I get you some flowers?”
He's not given a response. But when he pulls Lan Zhan along, the boy follows without protest.
Reaching the back of the riverside, he's scanning the vast expanse of flowers in the meadow to choose from when Lan Zhan stumbles beside him. He looks up just in time to catch Lan Zhan looking away from an obscure wall on the backside, his ears burning red. It's hidden behind the trees and situated at a concave angle that's very telling of what kind of spot it must be for the youngsters in love.
He pulls Lan Zhan away to the other side. He doesn't want to know.
A trail of gentians catches his eyes, mostly because they're blue. But then Lan Zhan says, “You don't always have to look for these just because I like them. They are not easy to find, we both know that.” And then it's not a question at all. Wei Wuxian follows the trail that leads him to a small patch of land blooming with the same vibrant blue inflorescence.
He offers to weave a twine of them into Lan Zhan's hair. As an apology for his rabbit transgressions.
Lan Zhan's eyes sparkle with humour. “The last time you tried braiding my hair, it took me days to untangle the knots.”
He cannot say that this time it won't. Or that he has learnt a thing or two about hair from Granny Fei.
He simply gives him a smile. “I have been practising.”
It makes a deadly memorable picture. Lan Zhan glowing under the sunlight in a field of gentians with a rabbit in his lap while Wei Wuxian braids flowers throughout his hair. If nothing else, he will at least have something to remember him by.
Lan Zhan, for his part, is giving the flowers a thoughtful look.
“There’s no point in this.” he says. “The flowers dry out and die. They are forgotten.”
“Maybe not for you,” Wei Wuxian smiles, gently tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “But for the one who gets to look at you like this, the memory will last a lifetime. It will never die. Even when the flowers in your hair do.”
Lan Zhan offers no response. But Wei Wuxian can see the deepening blush on his ears quite well from where his fingers are busy methodically braiding.
“Pretty,” he grins when he's done.
And without preamble, Lan Zhan leans in and places the softest kiss on his cheek, freezing him dead in his tracks.
He stays still, suspended for a long moment with nothing but muddle in his head. The stupor is broken slowly by Lan Zhan's concerned voice asking what's wrong. By the time his gathers his bearings to pull away, he's almost wheezing from breathlessness.
“N-Nothing… It's nothing.”
Lan Zhan's gaze turns pointed.
He forces himself to laugh. “Ahh, pretty people like you should proceed with some warning, you know?”
Apparently, thankfully, Lan Zhan is used to such inanity. He simply huffs and gets off the grass, color high on his cheeks. “Let us stop by Shushu’s shop on the way. I wish to buy some baozi for Ayi.”
The journey back home is a blurry daze, with Lan Zhan occasionally pointing to things and reminiscing stories Wei Wuxian has no idea of.
He gives Wei Ying's mother an extra tight hug that night. And eats everything his father places in his bowl, even though he doesn't have much of an appetite. His chest is a hollow void when he gets out of bed at midnight. The walk back to the riverside is more frigid than it has ever felt.
Wei Ying arrives as usual, skipping and jumping, with a grin widely plastered on his face. He arrives with no red ribbon in his hair. It's in Wei Wuxian's hair this time.
In some twisted mockery, the words he had spoken on the eve of his birthday emerge in his head. Nothing but a small blip. Hardly anything will change in the aftermath. It's almost ironic, how true they still stand, and yet not. For Wei Ying is here, just as unchanged as predicted. And so is Wei Wuxian. Nothing fundamental about him has altered. Still the crown prince. Still the hope of his kingdom. Still the boy with big ideals and aspirations to do good, to do right, to hold the world in his small palms if possible.
And yet, he's not the person he used to be.
Wei Ying slips into his usual casual chatter, breezing through all that he thinks is worth informing. I've stored all your gifts and letters in the bed storage. I might have alsooooo written a tiny letter on your behalf. And I've taken a few of your trinkets for my Lan Zhan, I hope you won't mind. How was your stay? I bet you're tired of all the dirt and grime down here. Missing your golden palace, Your Highness?
He wishes.
But Wei Wuxian wants and his wanting makes him selfish.
When his mouth opens, he finds himself begging for one more week.
Wei Ying is surprised at first, and then annoyed. “What do you mean? Didn't you say the longer this goes on the riskier it will get? Don't you miss anyone?”
He must. He's sure he misses home, at least a little. He doesn't know right now. On the contrary, he finds himself employing a bit of deceit. Slight manipulation. Without any coherent input from his conscience at all. It's like watching a trainwreck on fire. A train controlled by himself.
“I've never really had a family that belonged only to me, you know,” he says. It's not entirely untrue. He still feels like a liar. “I won't get this chance again. Let me have a little more time, please? Just a little more freedom.”
Wei Ying is a terribly good person. In ways Wei Wuxian will perhaps never be. He's good to a fault because his eyes immediately soften with pity.
“How is everyone back home?” he asks. “Suspected you yet?”
He makes himself smile. “Your mama has been pretty happy since her son started finishing his vegetables. She might even adopt me if she finds out.”
Wei Ying rolls his eyes, pouting only slightly. “What about Lan Zhan?”
He swallows. “He's alright too.”
Wei Ying's gaze stays on him for a moment, sharp and searching. But unlike last time, he makes no fuss. He only heaves a sigh and says, “Alright then. But this is the last time. It ends after this.”
He's a terribly, terribly good person.
“I promise.” Wei Wuxian means it more than he can possibly convey.
He has never had to be selfish for anything. Simply because his life was such that all he ever wanted was made available to him at the shortest notice possible. Perhaps he doesn't know how to want and not have something.
Is this selfish? Unimaginably so.
Will anything come out of this? Probably not.
Why is he doing this? He doesn't know.
And yet, here he is.
All he knows is that he has never felt this way before. So overwhelmed. So unmoored. So untethered. Like a cut loose kite realizing only now of all the ways it was never held.
His feet shake as he makes his way back.
He's not going to steal, he tells himself. Certainly not from someone like Wei Ying. But there is a longing in him that he has never known before. A want that he doesn't know how to not be in. An ache that he doesn't know how to cut out of him.
What does he want, then?
Where will he draw the line to this selfishness?
He has no particular answer to that either. The heartbreak after another week will be much worse than it would have been today. This is perhaps the most textbook definition of self-sabotage. And yet.
And yet.
If he can have just a little more time to hold onto this feeling, to live it a little more tangibly, to let it bruise him just enough to remember, to let it break him just enough to leave a mark, then it will be worth it. He doesn't want to forget.
He doesn't want anything. He just doesn't want to let go.
Not yet.
He cannot have Lan Zhan, and he doesn't want to. Not that he thinks he could. But if he can pretend, just for a heartbeat, then will it be really so terrible? Wei Ying will have a lifetime with him. If he can steal just a moment's worth of reprieve from it, will it be really so selfish?
It probably will.
He still wants to. Even if it makes him selfish.
He has only ever treated Lan Zhan in the ways of someone else. Not as himself. Never as himself. And he selfishly, arrogantly, wants that. A chance to be true to his affections, even if it won't matter. A chance to be true to himself, even if it's vain. A chance to be true to the only want he can't have. He wants a chance to treat Lan Zhan in ways his own Wei Ying can't.
In ways only a prince can.
Unfortunately, when Wei Ying had written princess Lihua that sweet and syrupy letter, he hadn't expected to still be here for the repercussions.
He had expected to be long gone, to be far away from the palace, leaving the mighty crown prince to deal with the aftermath of his prank. He hadn't expected to be the one reading Zhang Lihua’s scarily expeditious response.
And he had definitely not expected Her Highness to already be on her way to greet him, defying all odds.
“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Nie Huaisang wonders for perhaps the hundredth time from where he's sprawled on the dais, popping peanuts into his mouth. “I never knew you were into older women.”
“For heaven's sake, she's just two years older,” Luo Qingyang snaps. She has been pacing the common area of his guest wing for almost an hour now. “But he's right. What on earth were you thinking?”
“Watch the tone, young lady,” Granny Fei warns. She's now hovering the incense under his hair to perfume him while the prince's personal attendants work on fixing his shoulder braces to get him dressed for the princess’s visit. “Your father is going to be escorting the princess here. You wouldn't want him to hear you speaking like that with His Highness.”
Luo Qingyang scowls but offers no protest.
Wei Ying mentally rolls his eyes. For all the luxury and abundance, the royalty can be pretty narrow-minded when it comes to status.
Granny Fei turns to him with a smile. “Your father is going to be thrilled about this.”
Oh no, Wei Ying thinks.
Outwardly, he only smiles, panicking a little more.
The arrival trumpet goes off. Their party is swiftly directed out of the prince's courtyard. The closer he inches, the more surreal his surroundings feel. The sudden surge of panic wrecks his nerves enough to forget himself for a moment. Gathering the vast expanse of his overly adorned velvet robes up in his hands, he stalks over to Luo Qingyang. The large headdress wobbles on his head. He despises this vain show of sophistication in this instant.
“What do I do?”
Luo Qingyang’s eyes go round. “What are you—”
“Just answer me,” he shushes her. “What will I even say to her?”
Something shifts in Luo Qingyang’s eyes, sharpness or suspicion, he cannot tell. "Why are you—” she shakes her head, eyeing him warily. “You're not… you're not actually in love with her, are you?”
There's a momentary urge to scream that Wei Ying has to tamp down. She couldn't be farther from the truth. Before he can do anything, however, the gates are flung open, welcoming the contigent inside.
Too soon, he finds himself atop the steps leading up to the prince's pavilion, a hand on his back and another resting on the hilt of his sword—the sword he can't even lift properly—descending the red clad stairs with what he hopes is even half the confidence that Wei Wuxian seems to exude so easily. He barely manages not to trip on his cape.
“The winds seem to have changed,” Princess Lihua gives him a scrutinizing stare as he offers his hand to help her down the carriage. “The autumn last year was colder.”
She's possibly one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. He attempts to channel what the prince had trained him with for such occasions. Then goes with his instincts.
“They have indeed,” he clears his throat. “Now that you are here.”
One of the princess's eyebrows goes up.
“You are different today, Wuxian.”
Indeed.
Princess Lihua's hand moves up, sliding away from his wrist to wrap around his bicep. You couldn't tell it was a deliberate action at all, as she ascended the stairs with all the casual confidence of someone with no care in the world. Dressed in a pink princess gown that fits her in all the right places, decked with gemstones that were undoubtedly placed by a well-trained eye. Though nothing about her manners is soft. It makes Wei Ying think of a tigress in a field of magnolias.
“If you insist.”
He peels his eyes away from her hand grabbing onto him, and sends a silent apology to Lan Zhan.
The guests quarters had already been prepared but Her Highness insists on visiting the stables first. Says she would like to go for a ride. Mercifully, he is saved from further awkwardness by the same princely responsibilities that he has despised since day one. Attending court with His Majesty can be pretty nerve wrecking. But he'll take that over this any day.
“I would have loved to,” he tells her as much. “But I'm afraid I have a pressing commitment with my father that I cannot delay anymore. Luo Qingyang here can accompany you for the ride. I assure you she's one of our finest.”
Princess Lihua gives him a bored glance. “I'm aware.”
Wei Ying cannot tell what she means. She's aware he was never going to accompany her or she's aware Luo Qingyang is capable enough. He carefully doesn't ask.
The princess's troop is soon dismissed to prepare her hunting gear. Only once the corridor is mostly deserted does she grab Wei Ying's hand once more, pulling him in for a one-on-one.
“You are not in love with me.”
It's neither a question nor speculation. Just certainty. There's no venom in her voice. Just conviction. Her eyes flit carefully over his face, like a predator about to pounce and pry all your secrets out simply by looking. It's mostly her brutal honesty that inspires his own.
“No. I am not.”
She steps closer, the sharpness in her eyes prickling his skin. One of her dainty fingers reaches up, tracing the line of his face, seemingly seductive, though her gaze is merely curious.
“Just what are you playing at?”
Now that they're out of the danger zone, his bearings are a lot more gathered. He cannot say why he ever dreaded an impending heartbreak. Princess Lihua certainly doesn't seem one for wallowing. She's rather the type to go for what she wants, irrespective of the outcome. It makes him wonder if it's the side effect of being a crown heir. Maybe all of them operate with this kind of unyielding audacity.
He takes a step back. “You are already here. Maybe you will find out.”
Two can play at this. Her Highness's mouth curves into an indulgent smile, disarming yet not convinced.
“I'm sure I will."
He bows. The princess's gaze shifts to his back, the gleam in her eyes stuttering just a little. It's barely there, and barely a moment long, the crack in the exterior, but it's suddenness makes it apparent enough. The unmistakable shift to something tangibly soft.
She bows as well. It's not for him.
“Shall we?”
And then she's gone, briskly striding away in a swirl of pink satin gown, glossy long hair, and an unuttered command to follow. Wei Ying blinks.
When he turns, Luo Qingyang is behind him, already dressed in her hunting gear, face blank and eyes trained to the floor, though he can pry a blush creeping quietly up her neck.
He feels his eyes narrow.
Luo Qingyang looks up and glares, and he's rudely reminded he's still the prince here and he still needs to dismiss her first.
“You may, Luo-guniang.”
She marches past him like a cat on a run, stalking away with all the grouchiness of an angry wind, and makes sure to bump him on the shoulder on her way.
Huh.
Maybe his letter wouldn't be that much of a blunder after all.
Wei Wuxian realizes, in the worst way possible, that theoretical economy and trade lessons hold little significance at the ground level. That in reality, he's actually pretty naive about the local markets.
Specifically the market prices. Like those of candies.
The plan had been simple: Seek out the candy vendor who makes the rabbit candies and get at least five hundred of those so Lan Zhan can have a steady supply till long after Wei Wuxian is gone. Very cheesy, he knows. But why not? Lan Zhan deserves it. He never really got the one Wei Ying bought for him at the fair.
How that plan goes, however, turns out to be far from simple.
He had brought along only obscure pieces of jewelry from the palace. Mostly, to prepare for emergencies. While the situation he has fallen in doesn't exactly qualify as an emergency, those jewels are all he has. And given that he had specifically chosen the smaller ones, he had assumed them to be cheap as well.
Apparently not.
Because jewelry, he learns, isn't just about precious metals and stones. It's just as much about the craftsmanship. And a prince's ornaments are obviously some of the finest.
The sleek hairpin he had assumed would be enough for five hundred candies, insanely, turns out to be worth fifty thousand candies—probably a lot more if those stones are a real deal, the old man tells him, which those rubies definitely seem to be—and now, the shopkeeper is certain Wei Wuxian has stolen it off some wealthy merchant or, worse, some royal official.
He carefully prevents his eyes from popping out and gulps. While he wouldn't say he has known Old Man Chen all his life, he has grown quite familiar with him in the last few days. The man is pretty easygoing and mild-mannered. So his sharp gaze currently boring into Wei Wuxian with suspicion unnerves him a little.
“Where did you get this, A-Ying?” the old man asks again. “Do I need to be talking to your mother?”
He feels his stomach sink. “Ahh, Shushu, why? I won it last summer in an underwater race. Some nobleman offered it up for a prize. I had no idea what it was.”
So much for being a mathematics prodigy. He doesn't really have any other line of defence here though. Nor does he have any money on him, except the coins he has accumulated from the evening grocery hauls, which he kind of doesn't want to spend. All he has are his few princely belongings—which, he's swiftly discovering, are worth much more than he ever thought them to be—and a perfectly pretty smile that can channel the most damning puppy face, if he tries hard enough. So he widens his eyes and tries harder. It's frankly shameful.
The old man sighs. “Must have been someone important, to give up something like this."
Wei Wuxian swallows the ball of guilt, and slowly inches the pin forward.
“How about a different deal then?” he says, nervously. “You give me five hundred for now, and then, whenever Lan Zhan comes for one, you give it to him for free?”
The old man frowns at his odd request, obviously hesitant to loot him like this. There's no way Lan Zhan will eat fifty thousand candies even in his lifetime. If only the old man knew that Wei Wuxian would gladly give the pin up for even one single rabbit candy.
“Come on, Shushu,” he presses. Whines. “Say yes. It can be our little secret. You can use this to get your wife those bangles she was fighting you for last week.”
A scoff, and the old man is huffing with disbelief at this obvious show of audacity. “You are a menace.”
Wei Wuxian gives him his most calculated smile.
“Alright,” the old man sighs. “A-Zhan will get his candies for free from now on. What excuse am I to give him for it?”
He ignores the unwarranted pinch in his chest, and says, “You won't have to. He will understand.”
Or maybe he won't. It doesn't matter.
Unfortunately, that's only the first skirmish. Because Lan Zhan, when he's presented with the candies, looks so horrified and confused it sends Wei Wuxian down a spiral of second guessing.
“Where did you get all this money from?” is his first question.
Wei Wuxian cannot say why he hadn't thought that over. He's used to people being over the moon on receiving anything from him. He doesn't recall ever being in a situation where his present wasn't cherished. Let alone be questioned. And this is possibly the least pricey gift he has ever given.
“All those extra coins baba gives me,” he lies. “I've been saving them.”
Somehow, Lan Zhan's gaze turns admonishing. “You saved them up only to squander them away like this?”
“Aiyah, Lan Zhan,” he makes himself look pitiful. “I just wanted to surprise you. Is that so bad?”
Lan Zhan's annoyance doesn't recede, but his expression does soften a little. “Wei Ying, we have talked about this. How are we ever going to afford a farm if you keep wasting your savings?”
There's so much said in that simple statement, it almost stings. He already knew Wei Ying to be a hopeless romantic. Apparently, Lan Zhan isn't much different himself. Only seventeen, but so hopeful of their future together. Lovingly dreamt. Fully planned. More than the romance, it's the partnership that he envies. Clearly nothing matters to them more than building a life together. He doesn't really have anything in his defence in the face of such commitment. Not even the strength to feel bad about his present being ultimately useless.
He simply retrieves one of the candies and unwraps it. “I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise.”
And maybe, maybe his present is not entirely useless. Because the way Lan Zhan's face softens at the sight of that tiny white rabbit, that small intake of breath, that barely concealed delight in his eyes. Perhaps they're enough.
The way Lan Zhan's lip curls into a pout because, “I apologize. I didn't mean to be unappreciative. I do love them.”
Maybe, that makes all the trouble worth it. The failure, and all the lies that came in its pursuit.
When he sets out for his next venture, he employs the precautions he has learnt from his previous mistakes.
One, instead of exchanging his gold chain directly, he decides to sell it off first so he's not caught off-guard with the pricing again. He also makes sure to sell it in pieces to different goldsmiths so nobody suspects him. As expected, the money he makes off the chain is horrifyingly above his estimated mark. If he sells all of his available jewelry, he will probably be as rich as a small cloth merchant.
Two, he does his dealings in disguise, lest he end up putting Wei Ying in any sort of trouble.
Three, he decides to simply keep the origins of his presents under wraps. Lan Zhan obviously values the intention of a present over its extravagance. Expecting him to not see through Wei Wuxian's sudden obsession with materialism would only serve to fan his suspicion.
What Lan Zhan doesn't know won't make him angry.
Simple as that.
So when he presents Lan Zhan with the expensive rooftop tickets at the monthly theatre showcase that's reserved only for the nobility, he tells him he won it in a raffle. And smoothly omits the crucial detail that the love story to be performed onstage is actually out of schedule, being displayed on that particular day only because of a royal demand that came with a letter bearing the imperial seal that he fortunately had the forethought to swipe last minute since he was going to give away his signet ring.
Lan Zhan is moved to tears by the performance. He either loves music way too much, or he's overly emotional about happy endings in love stories. Or both.
It makes Wei Wuxian giddy beyond measure.
And in the very next instant, the thrill turns into a boulder of cold guilt when Lan Zhan reaches out to hold his hand for the final song, placing a kiss on his knuckles. He spends the rest of the show staring at their jointed hands.
The more he attempts to steal moments of joy, the more it hollows him out.
By the time the week nears its end, he has presented Lan Zhan with a high quality set of brushes and ink blotter that he claims came at heavy discount at the weekly sale, an obnoxiously pretty hand-pressed collection of poems that he lies about obtaining from a gambler at a game of dice, and a pair of glass shoes that are too pretty to not overlook their utter uselessness, and is simultaneously oversaturated with the wrongness this kind of joy comes wrapped with.
He can see it's confusing Lan Zhan as well, who seems to be growing more and more concerned.
Wei Wuxian tells himself it's just a matter of a few days, and it's not like he's trying to win Lan Zhan over or steal him from Wei Ying. That was never the intention. He's doing it merely because he wants to.
His words seem empty, even to himself.
For his parting gesture, he decides to simply take Lan Zhan to a neighbourhood province where a travelling carnival is visiting.
Mostly because presents and grand gestures seem pointless when Lan Zhan only considers them with apprehension rather than appreciation. But a chance to spend an evening roaming around with him, a chance to have fun, a chance to experience a fair like normal people do, he thinks he will like that. He has a feeling Lan Zhan will like that as well.
The plan is only to spend the day strolling together. Once the carnival opens, however, Wei Wuxian kind of loses himself. It's more or less the same as the grand fair on his birthday, just on a much smaller scale. And this time, he has the money to experience it all. They enjoy some delicacies, a roasted sweet corn for Lan Zhan, and spicy fried shrimps for himself. Lan Zhan buys him a red ribbon and a pretty tassel. For the flute, he says, and Wei Wuxian has no idea what flute he's talking about. But the ribbon, he decides, he's going to keep, and gently ties it around his wrist, much to Lan Zhan's amusement. He even manages to convince Lan Zhan to ride the Ferris Wheel with him, which only serves to make the boy hold onto him tightly and look nauseous afterwards. He also gets to participate in the games that he couldn't on the fair night. He smashes a perfect bullseye in darts, which surprises Lan Zhan, but loses terribly in the cartwheel lucky draw. When he dives for the ring-toss, however, Lan Zhan pulls him away.
“I have enough toys. Leave some for the little kids.”
But none of those toys have been won by him, have they? So Wei Wuxian insists on it anyway. And then embarrassingly fails to throw a single wooden ring correctly. One ends up wholly outside the table, and the other ends up shoving things off it. He had no idea this simple looking game was this hard.
With a sigh, he hands the last ring to Lan Zhan. “You try it, I'm no good. What do you want?”
Except, Lan Zhan seems to think his horrid performance is deliberate. He places the ring around Wei Wuxian's neck instead, his eyes glinting even though his ears are red.
“I like it when you listen to me.”
Wei Wuxian suppresses the constriction tightening his chest, and smartly takes this out that the universe has given him, thanking all his stars that his doppelganger had been so good at that stupid game.
Towards the end of the evening, when the sky is dark enough, the exhibition of fireworks kicks off.
“Let's go to the hilltop.”
Taking Lan Zhan's hand, he pulls him along, weaving through the crowd assembling around them. They had heard people talking that the fire show is best seen from the hilltop.
“The entrance is restricted, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan reminds him though he doesn't stop following.
Wei Wuxian grins. “I called in a favour.”
He hasn't, really. But he certainly can, if need be. In case they get caught and the patrol refuses to be bribed, he can simply tell them to take the matters to the court. He hardly thinks someone would do that over a thing so insignificant.
They find two men guarding the entrance.
“I know them,” he lies. “Met them at the tournament last year. You stay here, I'll go talk.”
He has absolutely no idea who they are, nor does he need to. The men certainly don't care either, half drunk as they are, only too happy to be paid so much for such a simple favour.
They reach the hilltop a little after the show commences, hobbling and stumbling up the risky steep slope with him holding Lan Zhan firmly in his grasp while the boy keeps fussing because he fears his precious Wei Ying, who has no practice in any kind of climbing other than trees, is in danger of rolling down the slope any moment. Thankfully, it doesn't happen.
As the night sky comes alive, he can see why they call the hilltop the best viewing spot. The fireworks dot the vast expanse of the dark sky like gemstones, full of color and charm and beauty, taking their breaths away.
Down below, Lan Zhan slowly reaches for his hand, slotting their fingers together, and turns to him.
His eyes dip down to Wei Wuxian's lips, and for a hair's breadth of a moment, the world stands still.
Because no. For all his trespasses, that is still a line he's not selfish enough to cross. His hands move up to cradle Lan Zhan's face—just in time as he moves in, just in time to hold him back—thumbs softly stroking the swell of his cheeks, and very reverently, he places a kiss on Lan Zhan's forehead instead.
It feels just as wrong. Much more so when Lan Zhan melts into the crook of his neck, his arms gently wrapping over his back.
Wei Wuxian pulls away before he can make the mistake of responding. Somehow, he's certain that if he hugs him back, Lan Zhan will get to know his truth.
The walk back home is the coldest he has ever felt in life.
In the bedroom, he finds himself staring at the floor, so lost he barely realizes when Wei Ying’s mother enters with a glass of milk and takes a seat next to him.
“You need to tell him the truth, you know?”
His head jerks up, and just as quickly, it darts back down. Perhaps it's a measure of how shocked he is that his limbs almost hurt with how quickly they stiffen up and freeze. For a moment, he's unable to even look up and meet her eyes. When does manage to, Wei Ying's mother has her hand stretched out, offering him the glass of milk.
He accepts mostly on instinct. “You know.”
“I suspected,” the woman offers. “My son is smart, I'll give him that. But he's also too enthusiastic for his own good. The night before that idiot went away, he asked me a very stupid question. Just for the fun of it. Do you know what he asked?”
Wei Wuxian swallows, hesitantly shaking his head.
"He said, ‘mama, if extra terrestrial creatures abduct me and replace me with my lookalike for a week, would you recognize me?’ she pauses again, pinching the bridge of her nose. This time, Wei Wuxian shares the sentiment. For someone so smart, Wei Ying can be an incredible idiot when he's excited. “And the very next day, he was suddenly more respectful to me, with a fake mole under his ear, eating all his vegetables, and calling me Mother.”
His finger inches up, tracing the mole Wei Ying had carefully tattooed under his ear.
The woman laughs. "I bore that menace in my belly for almost ten months, I know all his tricks. And I know the size of that mole by heart. Yours is bigger. You boys aren't as subtle, or as smart, as you think you are."
He exhales. Shuddering. “So you always knew.”
“Only suspected,” she smiles. “But then I ate that lóngxūtáng this morning without any yelling. My A-Ying would have brought the house down. He hasn't let me have a single one since the healers advised against it.”
His eyes fall close. Of course.
It's not like Wei Ying hadn't informed him of that. It's just that it was the first time he had seen her eat a sweet in two weeks, so he didn't have the heart to object.
A soft chuckle bubbles out of him. “Is he in trouble?”
“Oh, you can't imagine how much.”
He laughs again. The surroundings feel unreal for a moment. To be sitting here, without any weapon pointed at him is a miracle in itself, but for Wei Ying's mother to be so kind to him, despite what he has done, is something he wouldn't have placed even as the farthest possibility.
“Shouldn’t you be angry with me?”
She lightly ruffles his hair. “I know an aching child when I see one.”
He's moving before he even fully realizes, raising his arms and sweeping her in for a hug. He has only ever hugged his parents and he hasn't ever really craved more. And yet, he suddenly wants to know how different this one would feel now that she knows. It does feel different. More real. Lighter.
“I won't ask who you are,” she says kindly, brushing through his hair. “My son has decided to trust you to this extent, then so will I. But I am counting on you that Wei Ying is safe, wherever he is.”
His arms tighten around her. “I promise he is. He will be home very soon.”
“That’s good to know. Let's keep this to ourselves, then? His father is not going to be as lenient as me.”
He nods. He knows from experience what fathers can be like.
“And lastly,” she adds, sweeping the hair strands off his face. “Tell A-Zhan the truth yourself. You have the face of the child I love more than life, I hate to see you in pain."
Tears well up in his eyes, and despite that, there's only lightness in his chest. With an easy conviction that he can do it. Lan Zhan will get to know anyway. If he gets the truth from Wei Wuxian himself, maybe closure would be easier to find.
That's the thought he's lost in, the next day at the riverside meadow, when they hear the clacking of hooves on the ground.
His entire body breaks out into goosebumps.
Lan Zhan pauses in the middle of lecturing him about the upcoming exams. "What is it?"
The men that appear are indeed soldiers. Two of them. But that's not what seizes his belly with dread. It's their uniforms. They're not the soldiers from his regiment. They're not even from within the territory of Yiling.
Face carefully blank, Wei Wuxian rises on his feet and pulls Lan Zhan closer. He's still in the middle of deciding just how dangerous or not they might be, when the men get off their horses and begin trudging towards them, eyeing up and down curiously.
“So the rumours are true,” one of them bellows. “The captive prince is indeed out and about.”
His stomach sinks further. He's not aware of any such rumours. But if such hearsay exists, and it has managed to reach the likes of these men, then it has certainly reached his father as well.
He hopes Wei Ying is alright.
Lost in thoughts as he is, he doesn't get to react before Lan Zhan is hurriedly stepping in front, completely shielding him behind himself. “What do you want?”
Wei Wuxian blinks.
This is not the first time that he has been shoved behind someone to be protected. He has been in situations so dire that a whole circle of soldiers had to be formed around him. But it is the first time that he's being shielded by someone who hasn't held a sword in his lifetime. Or sworn fealty to the crown. The first time he's being protected purely out of love.
“Oh, nothing, we want nothing,” the other soldier grins. “Just a little chat.”
Wei Wuxian places a hand over Lan Zhan's shoulder. The boy turns and shoves him back into hiding, whispering with urgency, “I don't like the look on their faces. Do not make any sound.”
And without waiting for a response, he turns away again. “We don't have anything to give you.”
The men cackle. Wei Wuxian sighs, and pulls Lan Zhan back. For all his courage, Lan Zhan's hand, he finds, is sweating cold. He swallows, cradling his face in a hand. “Let me talk, okay? And stay close to me.”
He doesn't have any weapons on him. Talking and pretending are his best bets right now. He's pretty sure these men have only ever seen vague portraits of him so there's still a chance he can deflect this. The moment he inserts himself in between, Lan Zhan tightly grips his robes, as if ready to projectile him out of harm's way should the men get any closer.
“I don't understand what you mean,” he says.
The soldier directly in front of him tilts his head. “You sure?”
“Or maybe…” the other one inches closer to Lan Zhan, openly leering. “Maybe the reason for your escape isn't exposure, as your people seem to be saying. Maybe, it's something else. Maybe it's someone else.”
The man's finger creeps up, as if to touch Lan Zhan's face. Quicker than a blink, Wei Wuxian's hand closes over his throat, the movement so swift it makes a plap sound as he grabs the man by the neck and drags him several paces back.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
Within an instant, he hears the other one scream behind him. Turning, he finds the man brandishing an iron brand dangerously close to Lan Zhan's eyes. “I told you we just wanted to talk. Let him go if you want this pretty face to remain as it is.”
Wei Wuxian stumbles back, hands up in the air. Not because he actually thinks a lowly soldier would be that daring, but because Lan Zhan, the wildling that he's swiftly turning out to be, is valiantly trying to bite him, and Wei Wuxian is pretty sure he's going to get burnt due to his own fault.
“Step away,” he yells.
The man sneers. “So this is it, huh? My friend was right about you.”
Wei Wuxian pries a glance sideways and finds Lan Zhan attempting to practically claw his way out of the soldier's caging arms. He takes a breath, accessing the scene, then retrieves the rock he had picked up while getting up from ground and pelts it straight at the man without warning.
The man violently flinches back.
He takes advantage of the distraction and dives right in. Charges at breakneck speed and pulls Lan Zhan away. Unfortunately, he ends up with the brand on his own chest. It barely makes contact but it's enough to bear a scar. He hears Lan Zhan make a pained noise at the same time the man loses his mind.
“It's his fault, I wasn't going to!" He screams like a madman. "We didn't mean to. It's his own fault."
The man's companion, perhaps discerning there isn't going to be an instant capture, hastily drags him away to their horses.
Wei Wuxian is still on the ground, breathing hard, when he hears the horses gallop away. It doesn't hurt much, but it does burn like hell. He might even be bleeding.
Lan Zhan hoists him up, haphazardly pulling open his robes to inspect.
More than the pain, it's the look on Lan Zhan's face that gives him a pause. There are tears in his eyes. This brave, stupid, beautiful boy who shoved him behind himself, was ready to attack if need be, and went tooth and nail with someone almost ten times more experienced, is now crying because Wei Wuxian is hurt. A whole lot of people get concerned when the heir to the throne gets hurt and yet, nobody has ever looked at him quite like this. Like they were giving him a piece of their soul through the act of looking alone.
As if seeing him in pain hurt them even more.
He watches, half numbed, as Lan Zhan retrieves his cotton handkerchief from his little satchel and dabs it over the wound, valiantly holding back the water in his eyes and gently blowing on the burn with his mouth. If Wei Wuxian winces, he winces even more than him.
The back of his mind screams that none of it is for him. That look, that concern, that love. It's for someone else.
And yet, he makes no attempt to hold back when his finger inches up and slowly caresses Lan Zhan's cheekbone, right under his eye. He doesn't know what's on his face, but when Lan Zhan looks up, his eyebrows crease in the centre, eyes clouded with confusion.
"Wei Ying," he whispers.
And he can't. Wei Wuxian can't hear that name right now. Not in that voice, not in that inflection that seems to carry an ocean’s worth of meaning infused in just two syllables of a name.
He forces the screaming voice out of his head and leans in to capture Lan Zhan's lips.
Lan Zhan stiffens, obviously surprised, but he does respond, eagerly melting in with a sigh. Very slowly, his fingers disappear into Wei Wuxian's hair, while the other hand finds purchase on his collar. Even more slowly, his mouth opens.
And there's no turning back thereafter.
Wei Wuxian’s arm wraps around his waist while the other hand grabs the base of Lan Zhan's neck as he sinks right in, all tongue and teeth, kissing that mouth like a fish starved of water.
Lan Zhan's breath is hot on his lips, and his skin sticky, and Wei Wuxian cannot get enough. He wants to devour him. He doesn't. He kisses him softly, savouring the taste. His hand grabbing the back of Lan Zhan's neck flexes, bending the boy slightly backwards and Wei Wuxian goes down with him, unwilling to let go, tracing the contours of his mouth as if they were answers to all of his questions.
So engrossed he is, that it takes a while to notice just how tense Lan Zhan's frame is in his arms. Almost instinctively, Wei Wuxian's arms tighten, as if gripped with a newfound fear that the moment he lets go, all will be gone. Maybe it will. Lan Zhan wrenches them apart, tilting his head further back. His lips glisten, breath coming out in short spurts through them.
“Wei Ying—”
And Wei Wuxian's mouth latches on his jaw instead, almost in desperation, arms tighter than ever. Tears roll down his eyes and he cannot pull away, kissing all over his face as if to commit every inch of it to the memory of touch. Except, the more desperate his kisses grow, the more agitated Lan Zhan's hold gets on his robes, his frame squirming and squirming until he shoves Wei Wuxian away, stumbling them both a step back.
Reality crashes over him like a slap on the cheek. He finds himself beginning to shake.
What... has he done?
The confusion in Lan Zhan's eyes is sharper now, his stare more wary. He shakily scans his face. Then, very slowly, he takes another step back.
“Who are you?”
Wei Wuxian's eyes dart up. His heart is in his throat.
Lan Zhan takes two more steps back, his voice rising a decibel. "Wei Ying doesn't kiss me like that. Who are you?"
He swallows.
"Your eyes," Lan Zhan whispers. He's trembling now. "Do not look at me like that. My Wei Ying never looks at me like that. Who are you?”
Wei Wuxian's eyes fall shut, his hands slowly fisting up, unable to bear, unable to hear. He doesn't know if it's the courage he lacks or conviction. He's more angry at himself than anyone else. But he's furious nevertheless. He aware he's practically giving himself away when he asks, “Like what?”
His voice had been meek. But Lan Zhan is still shocked into speechlessness, staring at him with large, haunted eyes as his face slowly ashens.
“I knew it," Lan Zhan mumbles. Mostly to himself. “I should have known. You have been – all those gifts – I should have known – you have been all wrong – you touch me like – I should have known – Wei Ying doesn't touch me like it's a luxury he can't have. He doesn't kiss me like it's our last. I should have known!”
He's yelling into his hands by the end. It's a withering sight. Lan Zhan breaking down. It makes Wei Wuxian angrier. The raw anguish laid so bare on that otherwise inexpressive face. It's not fair. It's not fair at all. This brave, stupid, beautiful boy. Everything Wei Wuxian wants, wrapped in everything he can't have.
When Lan Zhan looks up, his face is contorted again. Eyes blazing distastefully. “I said don't look at me like that.”
Wei Wuxian's question is a scream this time. “Like what?”
Lan Zhan's voice rises too. "Like it's killing you to do so!"
His stomach sinks, with enough force to buckle his knees, knocking his breath out. Lan Zhan isn't much concerned for him this time around, however, troubled as he is in his own mind. Worse, he misinterprets his reaction. For he immediately bursts into tears. Not the silent tears like last time, but sobs that seem to rattle the entire being of him, wheezing and suffocating, as if his heart is about to give out.
“What happened to him?” he asks, deathly quiet. “Is-Is he... dead? Those men earlier – Is he – Please tell me he's okay. Please—”
Wei Wuxian stares. Makes himself look. Makes himself witness the wreckage. Perhaps he can understand now, just what Lan Zhan had meant. Because looking at him like this, that beloved face, with all his love and anguish laid bare in those light eyes, and knowing without a doubt that it's not for him, really does feel like a certain death.
Like it's killing him.
Mercifully, it's also what makes him realize that he's incapable of watching it happen.
He's the reason this started. The reason it came to this. His own heartbreak cannot take precedence here.
So he makes himself stand. Makes himself speak the truth, beginning to end. About who he is. About the fair they met at. About what they tried to do. He lays out every truth, braving through the look of anger and disgust and the utter betrayal in Lan Zhan's eyes.
“Your Wei Ying is alright,” he tells him. “I will bring him back by tomorrow.”
But Lan Zhan is unwilling to listen. Merely a boy of sixteen, he seems to have aged twenty years in the span of a counted few moments. There's none of the pinkish hue that's always dusting his face. The only thing that still makes him seem young is perhaps this irrational, impatient stubbornness to see Wei Ying right away.
“I need to see him now,” he says, with all the desperation of someone hanging onto their last hope.
The constriction in Wei Wuxian's chest stings. Makes it harder to breathe. For more than one reason. But no matter how much he attempts, the boy refuses to be convinced. He refuses to believe, refuses to listen to reason, and absolutely refuses to budge from his place until he has seen Wei Ying with his own two eyes.
If a normal Lan Zhan was stubborn, then an angry one was doubly so.
In the end, the choice is between risking his cover or letting Lan Zhan fall apart in the middle of a field.
It's an easy one.
He's going to be caught either way. Perhaps this scheme was doomed to fail. Might as well do it himself.
He tries to at least convince Lan Zhan to go home if he's unable to return by nightfall. Once again, the shake of his head is adamant.
Wei Wuxian takes in a frustrated breath, and lets his feet take him back to the riverside.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to dig around much before he finds the patch of grass hiding the outer entrance of the tunnel. The similar trepidation seizes him once again, the kind that had gripped him the first time. He takes another breath and hopes it will be alright.
Closing his eyes shut, he breaks into a run.
It happens with a scream.
The day, in itself, had been perfectly cordial, until things started to go wrong, little by little, at first. While duties involving His Majesty were nothing unusual, a personal invitation for evening tea was certainly nerve wrecking. He had only ever been around the prince's father in settings that involved several other people, and little to no chances of personal interaction. Not to mention, imperial mother is going to be present as well.
Under such close scrutiny, he's not sure if he will be able to hold his own. He might be smart. But he's not the prince.
“It has to be serious if she had to cut her trip short,” Luo Qingyang muses from where she's perched a little too close to the swing princess Lihua is swinging on, and pretending it's the perfectly normal thing to do.
But she's right. Her Majesty had to set out on her travels to the northern province on the second day of his arrival, so he had met her only briefly, amidst a rushed albeit affectionate farewell. She is nothing like his own mother. But the warmth of her arms was distinctly familiar. And so was the sharp knowing look in her eyes. With her trip being cut short because of something unusual that he's not yet privy to, the idea of being alone in the presence of both the king and the queen unnerves him.
“She set off as soon as she heard,” Princess Lihua adds. “Which was two days ago. It can't be about those nonsense rumours. Wuxian is literally here!”
And then there's that. He swallows. Pieces of prince's stamped jwelery circulating the common market that has made the people think their prince is among them for education purposes. There's no way it's true. Between him and the prince, Wei Ying is the more careless one. Surely, he's not going around dropping his accesories at random places. It doesn't make sense. Wei Ying is unsure how it happened, or if it's even true, or what is the extent of it, but seeing as it has reached the empress, it has to be bad.
“How come you're so unaware?” the princess's eyes settle on him. “Don't you always know everything ahead of time? Are you hiding it from us?”
He wishes he were. At least his nerves would stop harassing him then. He ignores the question and turns away with a sigh, closing his eyes shut for a moment of peace. He hasn't had any since the princess arrived. His courtyard seems to have become everyone's lounging area these days.
Occupied as his mind is with imagining the worst, it freaks him out more than necessary when the clamour of footsteps resound. And perhaps not just him alone. The rumours and speculations have certainly set the others on edge as well, seeing as Princess Lihua is suddenly still, listening for movements. Hell breaks completely loose when the scream cuts through, the voice unmistakably Granny Fei’s.
“Guards!”
Luo Qingyang is immediately on her feet and in front of him, hastily ushering the princess over as well.
“Don't move,” she instructs them, calling in for the guards stationed outside. Then she leaves the room.
Wei Ying holds his breath. This is it then. If they're truly under attack, he's not going to come out alive. He does not know how to fight. Four fully armoured sentries spill into the room, all swords drawn. He notices, with some trepidation, they're the knights of the prince's guard.
“Step away, Your Highness!”
It takes him a moment to realize they're not speaking to him. They're addressing Princess Lihua who, for the first time, looks genuinely terrified. His body breaks out in cold sweat. Wei Ying doesn't think he's ever felt fear of this kind.
Nobody attacks him right away, but nobody lowers their sword either. The look on the soldiers' faces is immensely troubled, their eyes settled on the ring on his finger.
Luo Qingyang burst into the room. “Move away from him.”
She's white in the face, eyes brimming with disbelief as they flit over his face. He realizes, with a jolt, that she knows. She doesn't seem to have time to process, however. She draws her sword, facing the guards.
“He is to be escorted unharmed,” her voice trembles. “Direct command from the prince.”
In his peripheral vision, Princess Lihua's jaw drops.
The guards still have their eyes on the ring, clearly conflicted on what to do. But they do part, making way for him. He takes a step and promptly falters with how terribly his legs are shaking. Luo Qingyang grips his bicep and pulls him forward.
There aren't many thoughts in his head as he makes his way to his personal quarters, surrounded by an array of security ready to cut him down should he so much as blink wrong. None but his parents. His friends. Lan Zhan. He wonders if they'll be told what happened to him. He hopes the punishment would be solely his to bear.
He walks into the room to a sight much worse than he had imagined.
Granny Fei is sticking to the back wall, face ashened with horror. All the courtyard guards are assembled inside with their swords drawn. And in the centre stands Prince Wei Wuxian, in cheap faded robes, no jewellery, and dry, frazzled hair. Standing upright despite an obvious bloody wound on his chest. Engaged in a sharp faceoff with Captain Luo, least bothered about the ten swords pointed at him.
Wei Ying hesitantly hobbles inside. He's certain he hears a few gasps.
It's only at this moment that he sees it crystal clear, the stark difference between him and the prince. It's in the prince's whole demeanour. His posture. His stance. His body language. His folded arms and easy gait even in the face of such a situation. His eyes which are, unlike Wei Ying's, refusing to dip down.
The thing stopping them from attacking Wei Ying is the ring on his finger. But the thing stopping them from attacking Wei Wuxian is everything he already is. Has always been.
The ring can make someone a prince. But the true prince doesn't need the ring to be it. He was born into it.
Wei Ying shuffles closer and quietly takes the ring off.
The faces change instantly, some of them white with fear. He wonders if it was one of the soldiers who hurt the prince. The confirmation quickly brings out the reined in fury as well, coupled with absolute disbelief.
Captain Luo’s face is almost red as he yells, “Seize him!”
Wei Wuxian puts the ring on and casually steps in front of him, completely shielding him behind himself. He doesn't even need to command it, the gesture loud and clear.
“He will be coming with me,” he says easily. Not forcefully, but also not leaving room for questions. “No one is to follow us.”
"Your Highness, no!”
The prince ignores the objection. “I will be back before midnight.”
“You wish to go out unattended?”
“Did I stutter?”
Captain Luo goes down on one knee, his spear held straight upright. “Your Highness, I cannot let you do that. Forgive me, but I will have to involve your father.”
Wei Wuxian visibly swallows. “You may do as you see fit, Captain."
The man's eyes fall shut, as if in pain. Wei Ying cannot fathom being in such conflict. The captain obviously has a lot of affection for the prince, but perhaps not more than his allegiance towards his king. He gathers himself quickly enough though, getting back on his feet and bowing deep.
“You are hurt,” he adds softly, his eyes trained on the prince's chest. “At least, let us take a look.”
Wei Wuxian heaves a sigh. He seems oddly resigned. It's an unusual look on him.
"I am alright, Captain Luo, and I assure you I will be back before midnight,” he tells the man, as earnestly as he can. “But whomever father decides to send after me, please instruct them to wait by the central inn. I will find them myself.”
The captain makes no such promises. “I will try.”
The prince apparently finds it good enough, however, for he turns to Luo Qingyang next.
“Can I trust you that no one will follow me out of here?”
Unlike her father, Luo Qingyang’s loyalty seems to prioritise the prince first. Probably because she doesn't hold any official designation yet. Despite the fear and panic in her eyes, the girl bows, her shoulders up and straight. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”
Wei Wuxian seems to relax. He obviously trusts her enough to keep her word. And Captain Luo will certainly not harm his daughter.
He reaches for Wei Ying's hand. “Come with me.”
Wei Ying resists. “Wait.”
He discards every single piece of jewelry on him, as swiftly as he can, down to his earrings and bracelets and rings, and carefully places them on the round table, right beside the half finished sketch of Lan Zhan that he had been drawing before he was called away. Then he takes off the gold embroidered royal coat as well. He takes nothing with him except the set of inner robes he's wearing. All done, he gives Luo Qingyang a nod. “Tell her highness I said goodbye.”
Lastly, he turns to Granny Fei. “I'm sorry.”
With that, they face the escape tunnel once again.
Wei Ying seems to fully regain himself only once they're far enough from the palace and its people.
"We're busted, aren't we?"
He doesn't know how to bring up the whole thing right then and there, so he doesn't answer. Instead, he tells him that his mother suspected since the first day itself, and just what confirmed her suspicion. Wei Ying makes a sound of absolute horror.
“A-die too?”
He pauses. “No. Just your mother and… Lan Zhan.”
“Lan Zhan?” he can't seem to stop yelling for some reason. “Just how did he find out now? Oh god, he must be so mad. Is that why you came so urgently?”
Wei Wuxian can't really bring himself to answer any of that. He breaks into a sprint again. Wei Ying follows. He knows he should come clean. If nothing else, he should at least tell him about the kiss, about the trust he absolutely betrayed. Still, he cannot bring himself to.
So he focuses on getting to Lan Zhan first.
Ultimately, he doesn't really need to say anything. Wei Ying questions it himself when they emerge from the underground, and instead of making their way home, Wei Wuxian leads him towards the meadow.
"Why are we here?"
Despite the late hour, Lan Zhan is stubbornly exactly where he was left at, crouched by a rock with his knees to his chest. He looks small curled up like this. In fact, he looks every bit like his lover perished in the sea.
“Why is he like that? What the fuck happened?” Wei Ying frowns, and then doesn't wait for a response because he's already running away towards him. “Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan glances up and releases a breath. Wei Ying asks again, and then again, repeatedly trying to make sense of everything, and all Lan Zhan does is stare at his face as if scanning every inch of it to make sure it's alive. Eventually, the lack of response catches up and Wei Ying's voice grows quiet, almost afraid.
“Zhanzhan… talk to me.”
And then Lan Zhan is tearing up, relief so bone deep that it's visibly palpable on his ashened face, though he bites on his lip and refuses to let the tears fall.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying's voice toes into panic.
He quickly reaches out, perhaps to hold him, only to have his hand harshly slapped away. Perhaps it's a measure of how unusual it is that Wei Ying looks like he's been struck on the face.
"Lan Zhan..."
Lan Zhan shakes his head, shoving him away entirely.
“You have no right to be hurt,” he grits out. “If you have no qualms about letting a stranger kiss me, then you obviously don't hold the same regard I do."
And just like that, the mirage shatters.
First, it's a short moment of utter silence in which Wei Ying's expression slowly transitions from confused dejection to something so blank and quiet it's glaringly violent. And then, it's a long moment of absolute hellscape, because Wei Ying turns around and straight-up charges at Wei Wuxian like a pissed off feral cat.
With how his day had been, Wei Wuxian couldn't have fathomed he'd still have it in him to run. But run he does, like a deer from a lion, wholly on instinct induced by the intent of murder on Wei Ying's face.
In the aftermath of a heartbreak, followed by a full blown danger alert issued in the palace, accompanied with the very real possibility of the harshest punishment he will ever know, being chased by Wei Ying on the slippery riverside is perhaps the last thing that should happen.
But that's exactly what happens.
And then Wei Ying gets him, as if by the sheer force of will and rage. He pounces and takes both of them down and rolling on the muddy ground. Crown Prince Wei Wuxian receives two back to back punches, and a nasty pull on his hair that he's sure plucks out a bunch of strands, before his assaulter is wrenched off him by Lan Zhan.
He lays on the ground, wheezing. "You do know that laying hands on the royal family is an offence punishable by death, right?”
Wei Ying lunges at him again. Once more pulling on his hair for some reason. Screaming that if he's going to die anyway then he'd rather take the prince with him. Wei Wuxian really should have kept his mouth shut. It's not like he doesn't deserve this.
Lan Zhan pulls him back once more, and this time, he drags him away as far from the prince as possible.
Wei Wuxian lies there and tries to catch his breath.
When Wei Ying starts talking again, Lan Zhan listens. Maybe he tells Lan Zhan the remaining truth. How this exchange hinged on the promise of not touching him. How he's going to ruin the prince's life now. How the prince is the only asshole in all this, and Wei Ying completely innocent.
Huh.
He's well aware he's in no place to be disgruntled but finds himself to be increasingly so.
Mercifully, he remains far out of earshot, nursing a bruised jaw and an even battered ego. A whole lot of hell awaits him back home, he should probably worry about that. And yet, all he does is sit there and look at them, feeling his gut slowly knot up as Lan Zhan's face begins to soften. Even in a blunder like this he cannot keep his anger intact.
What a stupid boy, he thinks derisively.
And then promptly turns away when Wei Ying kisses Lan Zhan's face, unable to watch. The hell back home would at least be more bearable than this.
There's really no reason why he should still be here. He had hoped to be able to apologize one last time. To say goodbye. But looking up again, he finds Lan Zhan resting on Wei Ying's shoulder, his face easy and relaxed in a manner it would never be with him. And Wei Wuxian decides that this is punishment enough. He'll save his apologies.
With one last glance, he turns around and walks away.
It feels right, however grim. With everything and everyone returning to their rightful place.
The double trip to and from the palace followed by getting punched into the ground had exhausted him a decent amount. And yet, he runs. Just to exhaust himself some more. Maybe in hopes that the ache in his limbs would somehow numb out the mess in his heart. It helps that the night is a moonless one, dark as shadows. Perfect to hide behind.
He finds the troop sent to collect him exactly where he had told them to be. Ready and waiting.
This time, he enters the palace from the main entrance, the squad of the prince's guard following closely in tow. The unease already permeating the atmosphere thickens once he makes an appearance with dark swelling on his face. No one is daring enough to ask, but he can see it practically etched on people's faces. It's almost a relief once he steps into the silence of his residential pavilion.
He finds his mother pacing outside his quarters. Sweeping the floor in her majestic regalia and a world of concern on her face, her attendants trying to calm her down.
Perhaps it's the suddenness of seeing her after so long, or perhaps it's the fragility of his own state of mind, but the simple sight of her soft features is enough to weaken his resolve. She stops dead in her tracks once she notices him, her eyes tracking him top to bottom, widening at the state of his face and even more, at the drying burn on his chest. The more she stares, the more it bubbles over. Wei Wuxian finds himself blinking rapidly. He has been strong all day. He doesn't want to cry. He's too old to cry.
His mother's eyes soften. “Leave us.”
One by one, everyone intruding around them empties the corridor, leaving just the two of them.
He walks over and crumbles. Shoves his face into her shoulder and allows his eyes a moment of peace into the fabric of her robes, breathing in her warm comforting scent. She hugs him tight, slowly rubbing his back. “You silly child, what have you done?”
There's no answer he can provide just yet. He's tired of explaining himself.
Granny Fei tiptoes in. “His Majesty wishes to see you both.”
He makes no response. Doesn't extract himself from the embrace. His mother doesn't let go either.
“His Majesty can wait,” she dismisses. “Bring the prince some ointment for his injuries. And tell the healer to brew some painkillers.”
She holds his face in her hands and gently wipes under his eyes. “We will see you in the morning. Let me talk to your father first. You get some rest.”
He appreciates it more than he can convey.
The bedroom is still as much in disarray as he had left it in. The rug overturned, some of the furniture displaced. He notices, swallowing, there's a large lock on the door to the escape tunnel. All the jewelry Wei Ying had discarded is also still as he left them on the table. Underneath it lies a half finished sketch of a face he cannot bear to look at, but also cannot look away from.
Someone enters with a tray of ointments and quietly leaves them on the side.
Only once he's within the isolation of his golden walls does he fall to the ground. Face stuffed in his hands and his entire being shaking with loud muffled sobs.
Wei Ying's mother is surprisingly less severe in her disappointment, although she's much harsher in punishment.
It's his father who worries him more. While much more mellow in comparison, he seems to be shaken beyond comprehension by his stint, for he cannot stop fixating on just how close his son came to dying. As if Wei Ying has returned from a war, bruised and battered.
“Even if you hadn't been caught, which you did by the way, anyone could have killed you." Wei Ying is used to his mother's strictness. Between his parents, she's the goofy one, but also the unbudging one when it comes to setting him straight. His father is mostly easygoing. It's probably the first time he has seen him be so stern. “Princes are always at the risk of assassination. Even an insider could have done it had they figured you have no fighting skills.”
Wei Ying tells him to be less dramatic. In consequence, he gets two more weeks of punishment added to the three already doled out by his mother.
He keeps his mouth shut thereafter.
The hardest to explain things to is Lan Zhan, and perhaps understandably so.
While he had managed to let go of his anger pretty easily, likely due the whiplash of shock and relief, he finds it much harder to let go of… everything else. He's distant without even realizing that he is. He doesn't say anything out loud, doesn't even talk about what occurred between the prince and him, but Wei Ying can make an adequate guess through his increasing bouts of silence that it's eating him from the inside. Silence isn't new to Lan Zhan, but the hesitation to be upfront is. Wei Ying doesn't prod into it initially. Partially because somewhere, it feels like his fault. And partially because he's afraid to know. Most frustratingly, Lan Zhan also seems to be affected by the prince's abrupt parting.
They don't talk about it, and no communication only worsens the tension. Stretching it thin like a rubber band. Until it snaps four days later on the way home from school.
He reaches for Lan Zhan's hand and the boy stiffens. He doesn't shake Wei Ying off, not exactly, but moments later, very quietly, he extracts it in pretence of straightening the strap of his satchel.
Wei Ying pauses in his tracks.
He had taken the forest shortcut for this very reason. To have some privacy so they can bring some semblance of normalcy back between them, but apparently, he's the only one who wants that. A part of him knows he's being a jerk, blaming Lan Zhan, and yet he's unable to rein in the anger that seeps in.
Lan Zhan pauses as well, a few paces ahead when he realizes, slowly turning back.
“What? Would you rather hold his hand?”
Wei Ying's voice emerges thick. Thick and a bit nasally, limbs dangling by his sides as if there's no fight in them. And yet, he feels angry. Most of all, at himself.
The look in Lan Zhan's eyes changes. Disbelief at first that's slowly replaced by cold hard fury. He makes no response. Simply turns back and stalks away.
Wei Ying's eyes squeeze shut. “Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan still doesn't respond. Nor does he stop. Wei Ying watches silently for a moment, then breaks into a sprint and grabs him by the bicep, whirling him around in one swift motion, the movement so sudden it sends his satchel flying to the ground. His other hand wraps over Lan Zhan's waist, pulling him in. Lan Zhan struggles, pushing on his chest. But Wei Ying's arms only tighten more, unyielding.
“Not letting go until you answer me."
Lan Zhan's eyes narrow. “What if I say yes? Are you going to go away again?”
He falls quiet. Knowing that it's only Lan Zhan's anger speaking does little.
"I don't like your answer."
"Then I have nothing to say," Lan Zhan is back to struggling.
So Wei Ying stumbles him. He pushes back until he has Lan Zhan pinned on a tree. “Well, too bad. You're kind of stuck with me now, even if we have to spend the rest of our lives as bitter spouses.”
Lan Zhan doesn't respond. He doesn't say a word. But very quietly, almost invisibly, his face softens, the hard lines melting a little. If it was someone other than Wei Ying, they wouldn't even have noticed.
When he attempts to shove him again, only half hearted, Wei Ying hugs him. Hugs him like he never has, in that ever consuming way one embraces what they can't bear the thought of losing. His hand winds around Lan Zhan's waist and the other settles on the base of his skull as Wei Ying's face stuffs into the crook of his neck. He stays that way for a moment, just inhaling the mild sweet scent of Lan Zhan's hair.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'm sorry you had to look at me and see someone else.”
Very slowly, Lan Zhan's body grows lax in his arms. Not resisting anymore. Wei Ying tightens his arms and pulls him closer. He'd fuse them together if he could.
“Talk to me, please.”
With a shuddering breath, Lan Zhan speaks. Unbearably vulnerable. “I should have known.”
Wei Ying's eyes fall shut. It's one of the very consequences he had feared. They were supposed to come out of this unscathed. Especially Lan Zhan.
“I knew something was off,” Lan Zhan's voice is gravelly. Trembling. As if it's hard to speak. “Something kept niggling in my gut but I didn't – I should have – he kissed me!”
The last thing he wants is Lan Zhan blaming himself.
“I'm sorry,” he repeats.
“You don't understand,” Lan Zhan emphasizes, with some desperation. “He kissed me, Wei Ying. He kissed me and I kissed him back. I kissed him back because I liked it. I don't know how to be okay with that. I don't feel like myself anymore.”
The confession is like a slow moving dagger. “It's still not your fault.”
Lan Zhan shakes his head. “He kissed me and I—”
Wei Ying tilts his face up and closes his mouth over his before Lan Zhan can finish. He doesn't need, or even want, to know more. And he goes all in. There are no preceding butterfly kisses that he's used to. No testing pecks and no light teasing licks. He makes no request. Simply goes all in. Holds Lan Zhan's face with both hands and tilts his own. Bites on his lower lip and demands an access. Lan Zhan's mouth opens like a desert rose awaiting morning dew. It's probably the first time he has kissed him like this, all tongue and teeth and passion, as if he can override the last one through willpower alone. He doesn't let go until Lan Zhan is a heaving mess and Wei Ying has to pin his wrists over his back to keep him from squirming.
When he's too out of breath to continue, he kisses Lan Zhan's neck instead, dotting it with loud, open-mouthed kisses and humid, hot breath.
Lan Zhan bites his mouth at one point so Wei Ying has to hold his wrists with just one hand and use the other to grab his hair. To tilt his head and bare his throat and kiss the arch of it. He holds Lan Zhan closer with all he can and presses his mouth harder into his skin. Hard enough that it becomes the only thing Lan Zhan remembers. His fingers move from his hair to his ear to his jaw again. He mouths at the whole curve of it. Kisses his entire face, eyes and nose and cheeks, before capturing his lips once more.
By the time he moves back, Lan Zhan is wobbling. His eyes are blown dark, almost lucid. He sways forward and Wei Ying catches him. Holds him close. Sweeps the hair off his forehead and tucks it behind his ear.
“Did that kiss make you weak like this?”
Lan Zhan absently shakes his head.
Wei Ying kisses the corner of his mouth. “Then you're still my Lan Zhan, alright?”
In response, Lan Zhan reaches up and kisses the side of Wei Ying's head.
It doesn't change things immediately, but it does loosen the tension by a lot. Enough for them to know that with time, they'll get through this. Enough to be able to openly talk about what transpired. Enough to discuss it with maturity.
Eventually, Lan Zhan broaches the topic. Almost a week after Wei Ying's return. Very hesitantly. "I do not think we ended it on the right note.”
Wei Ying doesn't agree. "He had it coming."
"It's not that, Wei Ying," Lan Zhan explains. "I do not believe he did what he did on purpose. We could at least check on him once."
"No."
"Can you please think it through without being petty?”
“No.”
“Wei Ying.”
"I can't stand the way he looks at you, alright?" Wei Ying ultimately bursts out. His voice shakes. He doesn't know how to admit it out loud. “It makes me angry. And more than that, it makes me feel guilty. As if – as if I'm the one who put that look on his face. As if I'm the one responsible for it."
He's unsure what it is that he has said, but the look on Lan Zhan's face changes. Becomes more guarded.
“Looks at me like what?"
Wei Ying swallows. "Like you're his first love."
Lan Zhan's face shutters.
“Who would know better than me what it's like being in love with you?"
Lan Zhan doesn't bring up the prince again.
Not for the entirety of the next week. And while that's indeed what he wanted, it bothers Wei Ying. Because somewhere, he knows Lan Zhan is right. They cannot act as if nothing happened. For all his anger, when he thinks of the prince, what he remembers first is the hope in his eyes. His conviction to do better however he can. He just doesn't know how to approach it yet.
Except, he doesn't have to.
For a week later, a royal missive arrives, carrying a personal request from Prince Wei Wuxian himself. It's a collective breath of relief for everyone that is quickly swallowed back up when the message is read out.
In the light of the prince's misconduct, the messenger announces, His Majesty has decreed a disciplinary punishment, for which the prince would be going away for all the remaining years till his coronation. His Highness has agreed on the condition that he be allowed to meet Wei Ying's family one last time. The prince requires your permission for the same.
It's Wei Ying's mother who accepts.
It's not that he hasn't seen his parents argue before, but never before has the tension been this brittle.
The most iconic lovestory to go down in history. Soulmates of the century. The couple that set the benchmark. The king who challenged the custom for his queen. You'd hardly ever expect them to resort to a screaming match.
“For once, think of him as your son and not your heir,” his mother's eyes are almost red. “How can you even think of sending him away after having him practically imprisoned for years? How do you think he'll fare?"
Even Wei Wuxian himself will argue that's a rather unfair assessment on the empress’s part. His father has always been more than indulgent with him. Not many princes can say the majority of their skills come from their father. But Wei Wuxian can. Before he was handed over to appointed teachers, he was under the tutelage of the king himself. He learnt wielding a sword and mounting a horse at a very young age because that was how they bonded, father and son.
“It is because he is my son that I am letting this go,” his father says somberly. “A-Xian is old enough, he should know consequences exist for everyone, including the prince. Quit spoiling him more than you already have!”
Wei Wuxian knew this one transgression of his won't be forgiven, and he wasn't wrong. And yet, he cannot really bring himself to regret it. He may give off the impression that he's apologetic for appearance's sake, but he's really not. His regrets are only for disappointing his parents, for worrying them. Not for stealing some time to live for himself.
“And those are the words of a father?” his mother's voice breaks into a sob.
Apparently, that is still the line for his father's anger. Even this long after marriage, and despite being one of the most feared men in the kingdom, he still folds like an old coat in the face of his wife's distress. Somehow, the sight makes his chest ache.
Will he ever have this? Will he ever even want to?
“You must understand, ai-ren,” the king's arms wrap around her shaking shoulders. Wei Wuxian sits a little straighter and averts his eyes. “I wouldn't send him anywhere I'm not certain of. With all that has happened, he will be safer there than here for now.”
That is an argument his mother cannot deny. She cries harder.
“I will be fine,” he offers softly, from the seat he has been perching on almost regularly since his grilling began two weeks ago. “And I won't be all alone, Mother. Huaisang will be there, and so will Luo Qingyang. This could be good for me. I promise to write to you every week.”
There really isn't much to say in that regard. Even if he hadn't used his father's condition as a leverage to be able visit Wei Ying one last time, he would have agreed to go. Mostly because he truly wants to leave. At least for some time. To go far enough from here that he can learn to breathe without suffocating.
His mother takes in a watery breath. “How will I survive without seeing his face for so long?”
The king huffs, brushing through her hair. “It's only a matter of a few years. They will pass.”
His father comforts his mother some more, reassuring her with all the good this might bring them. Perhaps it will indeed not be all bad. Wei Wuxian will get to live amongst peers of similarly higher designations. In a kingdom he has never been to before, and only the innermost family will be aware of his actual princely status. He might even make some new friends.
One of the corridor guards enters, bowing deep. “Apologies for the intrusion, your majesty. Her Highness is all set to leave.”
Wei Wuxian gets on his feet, seeking permission. His father nods. Lihua’s reaction to all that happened has been somewhere between shock and amusement. While she was quick to forgive the false letter she had been sent, Wei Wuxian cannot afford to offend her parents any more than he already has by closing all doors to the marriage union they've been looking forward to for years.
He finds her contingent already waiting by the carriages. Descending the stairs with a smile, he gently takes her hand, and places a kiss on her knuckles.
“Making Her Highness Lihua wait, the hells are surely about to overturn on me.”
The princess rolls her eyes. “Here’s the smooth talker I have known all my life. I should have figured it wasn't you, really. He was kind of innocent, you know. In ways you are not.”
He hooks their arms together, pulling her for a short walk. “You wouldn't be Lihua if you knew everything, now would you?”
The lady chuckles. “No wonder I preferred the other one better. Do you have any idea how sweet he was? Might as well have stolen my heart.”
“You talk as if your heart is still with you.”
He gets an elbow in his ribs for his troubles.
“Seriously though,” she prods carefully. “Is there truly no way we can be in touch with him?”
His upcoming visit to Wei Ying's house before departure has been kept strictly under wraps, only his parents and personal guards being in the know. He intends to keep it that way. Not that he doubts Lihua's intentions, but it's better like this. For everyone.
“I don't think you believe in a thing such as ‘no other way,’ Your Highness,” Wei Wuxian says with honesty. “Though I would dissuade you for Wei Ying's own sake. The farther they remain from the Royalty, the better it is. I'm sure nobody knows that better than you.”
The expression on Lihua's face sombers. “I would say that ship kind of sailed the day we discovered he wears the same face as you.”
“As long as we can then,” he agrees. “As long as we can, let's leave them to their simple little world.”
The princess sighs. “Ahh, I'm going to miss him.”
“All the more reason you leave him alone,” Wei Wuxian offers humorously. “I'm not sure your enthusiasm for Wei Ying will be much appreciated, irrespective of your intentions.”
Lihua's frown is one of indignation. “Why not?”
“Let's just say,” he allows. “There's someone who is… a little territorial of him.”
“Someone?”
“Mhmm.”
Lihua's hand flies to her mouth with a gasp. He doesn't understand why it's a matter of surprise for her. But then, he was the same in the beginning.
“Their lives are very different from ours, Lihua.”
The princess says nothing for a moment. There's a smile on her face, but her eyes remain disbelieving. “No wonder he had such a romantic bone. She must be very pretty.”
Wei Wuxian laughs out loud. “He is. He's possibly the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.”
Lihua pauses in her tracks. Staring.
"Oh, come on!" He attempts to walk away.
The princess rounds up and blocks his way, closely peering at his face. He attempts to rein them, the emotions from showing on his face. He fails. Merely a mention of the boy, and he can practically feel it, the softness that bleeds over his face, the quiver in his voice as he says, “His name is Lan Zhan.”
Lihua breathes out. “Oh no.”
Wei Wuxian turns away. He would rather die than let someone scrutinize him in this state. Lihua's hand latches on his shoulder, turning him back.
“Must you really go?”
“I do,” he answers easily. Honestly. That isn't something he needs to think twice on. “I can't stay here. At least, not right now.”
The princess nods with understanding. He can't remember the last time she looked this sad. “When do you leave?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“I will visit you,” she offers with a smile.
His eyebrows shoot up. “We both know it's not me you'll be visiting for, but thank you. I appreciate that.”
Lihua elbows him out of her way, walking back to her carriage. The captain of her troop was probably getting impatient with how quickly he signals for departure. Wei Wuxian helps Lihua on the carriage as the horses take position.
“Write to me once you reach,” she yells.
Wei Wuxian nods, watching the carriage steadily pull away. He's sure he'll find plenty of time to write to people once he's there. For now, however, he doesn't have any. Within two days, he will be leaving, to be gone for years on end. He has a lot to prepare. A world to pack up. A life to say goodbye to, for he doesn't think he will be the same person when he returns.
And a present to prepare. One last time. So he can truly take the first step into letting go. His first step into beginning anew.
Leaving behind the only home he has ever known.
When Wei Wuxian arrives, it's in his full princely regalia.
Deep red and gold embroidered tunic robes with a brooch that bears the glorious motif of his family. Padded shoulders, high collars, and arm braces. High riding boots and tucked in trousers. His sword tucked confidently by his side, and a royal blue cape on his shoulders to complete the attire. The silver chains on his pocket, dainty but sharp, and a crown on his head, high and proud. He comes with his knights in tow, the squad of heavily armed prince's guards following closely behind.
He smiles at Wei Ying's mother. "I just wanted you to see me like this. As I truly am.”
She gives him a hug, "You look very handsome. Perhaps even more than my son.”
Behind her, Wei Ying rolls his eyes.
His father is a lot less warm towards the prince, but he does give him an affectionate pat on his shoulder with a cordial invitation to visit anytime he wants. Wei Ying had honestly assumed the prince would be getting the same scolding as him. He secretly wonders if it's because of the guards standing outside the house.
“We will leave you kids to talk,” his mother says, pulling his father along, who seems reluctant to leave. As if his son might disappear again if he lets him out of his sight. “I've packed you some food for the journey. I hope that's okay.”
Wei Wuxian gives his mother a smile and bows.
The awkwardness in the room becomes ten times more apparent the moment the adults leave and they're left alone. Wei Ying makes no attempt to make it easy for the prince. He's only slightly miffed by the lost, quiet look on Lan Zhan's face ever since the prince arrived. Ultimately, Wei Wuxian clears his throat and approaches.
"I owe you both an apology.”
"You do," says Wei Ying, a little carelessly.
He notices, belatedly, that the prince is avoiding looking at Lan Zhan, even though Lan Zhan keeps trying to catch his eyes.
"Where are they sending you anyway?” he asks. To somehow break this tension settled around them. “The jungle?"
Standing beside, Lan Zhan elbows him with admonishment. The prince, for his part, laughs.
“The mountains," he says. "Father has a friend who runs a disciplinary school for the wayward children of the nobility."
Wei Ying snorts. "Discipline, and you?"
At the same time, Lan Zhan speaks too, with genuine and very evident concern in his voice. "You will not be happy at a disciplinary school."
And then the prince has no choice but to look up at him, and he does, and he can't look away. There's a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. He looks overwhelmed, staring as if he's trying to memorize the lines of Lan Zhan's face. His eyes flit all over it almost with desperation.
So Wei Ying drapes himself over Lan Zhan's back, wrapping his arms around his midriff, chin on shoulder. It makes the prince laugh. Something genuine and fond. It makes Wei Ying feel oddly relieved.
"What are you laughing at?" he scowls half-heartedly. "If you're going to stare at him like that, you might as well remember he comes in a package."
The laughter in Wei Wuxian's eyes softens until it's just a smile, his eyes shining as they bore into Lan Zhan's face. “I will never forget you.”
It sounds wrong. Unfair. Awful.
“But he will,” Wei Ying retorts.
Wei Wuxian's gaze darts back to him. Not upset or disappointed or even hurt. Just curious. Perhaps with an understanding.
“I'm going to make him forget you,” he repeats, brusquely, over the hollowness in his chest. This isn't his anger speaking. Just a kind of desperation. One he himself doesn't fully understand. He doesn't even know why he's sad for someone he has every right to be mad at. He just knows it isn't fair. Having to love and let go. He can't imagine loving Lan Zhan in a world where he can't have him. “I give you my word, Lan Zhan is going to forget you.”
So should you, he doesn't add.
Wei Wuxian laughs again, watery but not artificial. The smile reaches his eyes this time, despite the unshed tears held back in them.
He laughs and says, “He's allowed to.”
In his arms, Lan Zhan stiffens. Wei Ying tightens his hold into something more comforting, and attempts a diversion. “How is Princess Lihua by the way?”
That, for some reason, gets the prince's attention. His eyes light up with a strange gleam “She misses you. Keeps asking if there's a chance she can get in touch. I think she liked you better than even me. Told me about the sweet letters you wrote to her.”
Lan Zhan turns. His face livid.
Wei Ying blinks. “Aiyahh, he's obviously playing, can't you tell? It was just one letter!”
That's apparently the wrong thing to say. Lan Zhan's face turns severe. Wei Wuxian, the annoying jerk he is, continues. “She told me you compared her eyes with the dark, moonlit ocean.”
Lan Zhan shoves him away.
Wei Ying has to scramble to grab him back. “Stop! That's only half true! I swear he's being a jerk.”
“I'm just saying,” the prince counters in a cheeky voice. “If you ever want to, you know, find someone else…”
“That's enough,” the tip of Wei Ying's shoe lands on the prince's knee. He has no doubt he'd have a sword at his throat if the guards were inside. “That letter was just a prank. I wrote it under this snake's name. And anyway, Princess Lihua likes someone else.”
By the end, Wei Wuxian's mouth is twitching. Lan Zhan, however, has thankfully relaxed, even though his face remains stony.
“Thank you for letting me know,” he says.
The prince smiles. “Then, can I give you something before I leave?”
Wei Ying feels his eyes narrow. But Lan Zhan nods in consent. The prince reaches for his inner pocket and fishes out…a flower. A small gentian. Delicately blue, and exquisitely carved in metal. Just by looking, Wei Ying can tell an enormous amount of effort has been put into its details.
"I made it myself," says the prince, holding it out for Lan Zhan. "This one won't ever dry out. So maybe, you won't forget me?”
Wei Ying stares at it blankly.
"You idiot, can you stop being so sweet?" he says thickly. "I need to continue being mad at you."
Wei Wuxian grins. "Well, I certainly don't mind giving you a reason," and with that, he steps closer and sticks the flower into the corner of Lan Zhan's ear.
Wei Ying gapes. "Stop trying to steal him!"
The prince's sighs, openly moony. "I wish he was stealable."
"Oyi!”
"Sorry."
Lan Zhan speaks up, efficiently cutting them off. "I don't have anything to give you in return."
“That's alright.” The prince throws Wei Ying a sly look, a hand over his chest, “I'll always have the scar I got while saving you. It'll make a great story even. How the prince risked his life to save a pretty boy.”
For some fucking reason, Lan Zhan's ears turn red.
“Hey, stop that,” Wei Ying frowns and bites on it, which turns it even redder. When Lan Zhan doesn't quit blushing, he announces, loud enough to make a point. "Let's just hope his future partner isn't the jealous type. They're not going to appreciate that scar very much.”
He's focused solely on Lan Zhan when Wei Wuxian responds.
"I'm not going to love again."
He says it unthinkingly, passingly, and only after it's out does he realize just what he has blurted out. Perhaps the first time that he has acknowledged, out loud, that he is, indeed, in love. That it's not an infatuation he hopes to grow out of. They all fall quiet, the silence so sudden it catches them off-guard. Discomforting. Wei Ying senses Lan Zhan tensing in his hold again, and instinctively tightens his arms, a finger rubbing circles on the inside of his wrist.
In front of them, Wei Wuxian laughs unnaturally loud. His eyes turn glassy.
"Ahh, don't look at me like that," he says to Lan Zhan. "Please."
“Yeah, don't look at him like that.” Wei Ying quips playfully. Hopefully to lighten the mood somehow. To somehow steer them back to safety. “What if he refuses to go? I'm certainly not keen on being stuck with him.” Then he turns to Wei Wuxian as well. "And you, what kind of heartsore bullshit is that? You're only seventeen, and you're going to a new place, with new people. At least look forward to it."
The prince looks away. “Yes, grandpa.”
Wei Ying's finger is instantly in his face. “You're lucky you have my face, because Lan Zhan won't let me kill you."
“I'm just saying,” he shrugs. “Maybe you should have been the prince instead. You talk like my father.”
“Wouldn't you like that,” Wei Ying sneers. He's not above being petty. “His Majesty evidently saw that a jail home wasn't enough, so he decided to send you to a jail school instead.”
Lan Zhan elbows him. “Do not be mean.”
Wei Ying side-eyes him. He's really not appreciating this steady thawing of his sweetheart that he has been witnessing ever since Wei Wuxian’s royal ass arrived.
"Maybe it won't be so bad," he amends nonetheless. Sulking. "Maybe you'll find lots of new friends."
That doesn't quite land, however. The prince's mouth flattens into a line of distaste so thick he hardly thinks he's ever seen him be so visibly annoyed by something.
“Father's friend has a nephew he wants me to get along with,” Wei Wuxian admits. With a nasty scowl. “To teach me a thing or two about discipline. Some prodigal second prince.”
Wei Ying snorts. "Good. You could use some of that."
Lan Zhan turns and gives him a look.
"In case you haven't noticed yet," the prince retorts in kind. "I seem to have a taste for the commoners."
Wei Ying's teeth bare. "You know what, you absolutely deserve that jail school. Along with that jailor prince of yours.”
Lan Zhan sighs heavily. “Wei Ying."
“What? Stop feeling bad for him,” he bristles. “He’s obviously annoying enough to wear people down into liking him. He'll be fine. You're the living example of that.”
"Look who's talking about being annoying," the prince mutters under his breath.
That earns his a scary smile. All teeth and no warmth. Like a maniac. “Like I said, you deserve your disciplinarian. Maybe I'll even write to him detailing all the golden merits of your infamously good character. Tell him a thing or two about how you're such an ardent keeper of promises. What's his name anyway?”
The prince flushes deeply, clearly in remembrance of his misdeeds. Even so, he refuses to lose face. “Do I look like I care to know his name? But if you must know, the locals call him Hanguang-jun. Go ahead and write whatever you want. See if I care.”
Wei Ying opens his mouth again, and Lan Zhan elbows him for the third time. Much harder.
“Enough.”
He gestures towards the doorway, and it's indeed enough, because Captain Luo is half inside now, pointedly gazing at them with an expression that says it's time for departure.
His mother hands the prince a large parcel with another fond hug, while his father simply nods in acknowledgement. And then they have to walk His Highness out where the contingency leaving with him awaits, all saddled and ready on their horses to set out on the long journey.
"Visit us when you return," Lan Zhan tells him.
The prince smiles. “Of course.”
With that, without any warning, Wei Wuxian leans in and places a kiss on Lan Zhan's cheek, loud and adoring. And before Wei Ying can flare up, he places another one on Wei Ying's cheek as well.
"You're cute when you get jealous."
Wei Ying gets no time to retort. Because too soon, the prince is turning away and mounting his horse. With one last wink at him, he draws the reins, and then he's galloping away in a flurry of dark red robes and a royal blue cape, his troop of knights following closely on command.
"Rascal," Wei Ying mutters.
But his eyes remain on the prince's retreating figure. Particularly on the new piece of accessory in his hair that didn't use to be there before. A red ribbon.
Lan Zhan takes his hand. “You've been very understanding of him.”
Wei Ying shrugs, turning away to walk Lan Zhan home as well. “I had to. I don't really think it's his fault. Because he's a prince, people tend to forget he's also a just a boy at heart. Even he himself forgets that."
Lan Zhan hums. Lost in thought.
"Moreover," Wei Ying adds. Slides an arm around his shoulder and pulls closer. "However many of me there are in this world, they're all gonna fall for you at some point. I can hardly blame him."
He hears his beloved huff. “Cheesy.”
"Truthful,” he counters.
Lan Zhan sighs. “Will he be okay?”
"As insufferable as he is," says Wei Ying, slotting their fingers together. “He kind of grows on people, doesn't he? He'll be fine, I know he will.”
He's certain. He doesn't know how, but he is.
“You mean he's like you," Lan Zhan points.
It makes him laugh. “Indeed.”
The walk is relatively silent for the next few moments, both of them lost in thought. They're almost at their destination when Wei Ying remembers what the prince had said.
"Hanguang-jun…” he muses. “Sounds like a pretty name, doesn't it?"
Lan Zhan predictably frowns. Less at the abrupt change in topic and more at the obvious tone of fondness in Wei Ying's voice. Not appreciating it one bit.
"No.”
“Yes!”
He blinks away the falling snow. The shriek from the corridor is familiar. The attendants step away, knowing he would follow the commotion. And he does. The doors fling open before he can reach them, however, and in sweeps the esteemed empress, flanked by her attendants on one side and a harried looking royal physician on the other, telling her to take it slow and not overexert.
“Ready for the ceremony?”
Taking a step back inside, he sighs. Despite the royal white robes and the pure silk shawl, his mother looks frail. Not that she has bothered much to care about it. The physician isn't wrong to worry. Her warm cloak is missing from her shoulders and so are the woollen shoes from her feet, despite the frosty chill of the Gusu winter mornings.
“I was about to visit you,” he says.
Her frame feels fragile in his hold as he helps her get comfortable on the dias and drapes a blanket over her, much more so than the last time. Once, she was the elegant figure of the imperial consort, tall and proud. He could hide in the hems of her robes. Now, she's smaller than him, barely coming up to his chest.
“I figured my son was busy pouting at the walls so I decided to show up myself,” she smiles, gesturing with her fingers. “Come here, let me see your face.”
He dutifully kneels for her.
“Ahh, pretty as ever, my precious.”
She retrieves his ribbon from his bedside desk, and he bends some more, pivoting on his knees so it's easier for her to reach the back of his head. She can no longer reach his forehead if he remains straight upright.
“I know you don't want this. But I'm happy you agreed.”
His eyebrows crease. He doesn't remember it being a choice.
“It is what father wants.”
The cold filigree grazes his forehead, the soft embroidered clouds on the ribbon wrapping securely around it. His eyes fall close, focusing on the slow movements of his mother's fingers as they tie the family ribbon over the back of his head.
“Your father isn't the most understanding.”
No, he's not. His father simply wants him to be more like his brother. In the man's defence, he's not the only one. Too many people want that of him. Too many wonder why he can't be more like the imperial heir to the throne. He has grown up disappointing expectations—if only you smiled a little, if only you were a little more approachable, if only you were easy to get through—and feeling no remorse for the same. So he hasn't exactly made it easy to be understood either.
Too many have looked at him and seen someone else. Too many have known him and wished for him to be someone else.
Leaving a counted few, he cannot recall many people in his life who don't require him to act. Imparting and withdrawing their stamps of approval depending on the extent to which his demeanour satisfies their curiosity. As if he were an artefact and not a living, breathing person.
His mother, at least, won't require that.
“I'm glad either way,” she evidently shares the sentiment. “Glad that you're at least giving this a chance.”
Once again, it's not like he was given a choice. But then, it helps that Shufu knows him enough to never force him into the pretend shoes his father wishes for him to walk in.
“The students Shufu receives are not the easiest lot,” he reminds her, a tad petulantly. “I can only imagine what a crown prince would be like.”
Perhaps a rather ungenerous assessment, but he has grown up witnessing the horrors that the children of the nobility are. While outwardly always well-behaved, they are seldom kind. He's certainly not looking forward to what a headache someone with such a high designation would be.
“According to what I have heard, he seems delightful.”
Possibly the only thing that hasn't changed about his mother over the years is her optimism. He sighs. “He is being sent here because broke the rules, Mother. He put himself in potentially fatal danger.”
His mother laughs, in the way she does when she thinks he's sulking. He does not appreciate it. “And here I was under the impression my son withholds judgements that are spawned off rumours. I suppose I was wrong.”
He flushes.
“I do not understand why it has to be me,” he mutters. Then gets on his feet once more so his attendants can finish up. “He's the crown prince. He will have more in common with Xiongzhang.”
The steward fixes his arm brace before moving down to the light blue wrist cuffs. It's the only tinge of blue in his entirely white attire, other than his armour, which he will not be wearing today. The other attendant proceeds to pin the brooch on his lapel, a silver cloud motif.
“It was your uncle's call,” his mother stands as well, his crown held between her fingers. “It's about his close friend's child. I'm sure he has his reasons.”
He goes back down on a knee, eyes sweeping up. “It is going to be chaos.”
She fixes the crown over his head, and gently cradles his face. “Perhaps it's a good thing then, that my son is known to be the tamer of chaos.”
As if on cue, loud galloping of hooves cuts through the air. At the same time, a guard enters, bowing deep. “The guests are here, Your Highness.”
He stands and takes a breath.
The window on the side of his room had already made their arrival clear. Now, it lets in the steady commotion that seems to permeate the perpetually quiet atmosphere of his residential wing with uncharacteristic raucous chatter. Just out of curiosity, he pauses by it and pulls the curtain slightly ajar.
Not much is visible, but it's a rambunctious lot, he can tell. He cannot really make out their faces, but the guards are excessively loud, unlike his own. Their commander pays them no mind, unlike his own captain. And in the centre stands the proud figure of their prince, on a large black steed, wholly unbothered by the rudeness of his contingent.
He feels his mouth press thin.
This whole delegation is a misfit in the quiet, tranquil atmosphere of Cloud Recesses. Chaos, quite literally. His mother's words ring in his ears, and he finds himself suppressing another bout of annoyance. There's no reason why it should be him. But as it stands, it is him.
The boy looks up right as he turns away.
The last thing to flash in his vision is dark windswept hair, held together by a distinct red ribbon swaying in the breeze.