Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"She seemed...nice," Wei Ying says.

She had not. She had seemed haughty. She was clearly intelligent, which almost made it harder. Lan Wangji could dismiss someone who was dim-witted. The first daughter of the Fan clan was both smart and cold.

He had been extremely uncomfortable throughout their entire encounter. He had only survived it due to the presence of his brother, who had been required to be there as a chaperone, and Wei Ying, who had not supposed to have been there at all. Only, in all the months Wei Ying has been living at Cloud Recesses, he has largely come along to meetings Lan Wangji has been part of. He does not, technically, have a role, but he is interested in the dealings of Lan Wangji's duties as Chief Cultivator and, quite often, he has a different take on matters than anyone else, which has ended up helping Lan Wangji more often than not.

Suffice it to say, it's become common to see Wei Ying at meetings where he does not have an official role, other than that of Lan Wangji's friend. Lan Wangji does not allow his attendance to be questioned. Which is how Wei Ying had ended up attending the meeting between Lan Wangji and Fan Nuying, the Fan Clan's first daughter, to whom Lan Wangji was certain his uncle intended him to be betrothed.

He was more than certain, actually, even though it hadn't been stated outright. The set-up, the circumstances: it had all been all clear.

"Did she?" Lan Wangji says steadily.

Wei Ying's head jerks up and Lan Wangji hears what he said, suddenly, and recognizes the rudeness in his question. He tries to reframe it. He cannot. He looks at Wei Ying.

"Oh," Wei Ying says. He has a look on his face, a tilt to his mouth, like he's going to tease. Lan Wangji is not certain he could take teasing right now. Perhaps Wei Ying sees it in his face, because he blinks and his expression changes abruptly. "Yeah, okay. I didn't like her either."

Lan Wangji feels relieved. It's not just him. He shouldn't be surprised, but it helps, since Wei Ying is not in the position Lan Wangji almost certainly is. His uncle had set up the meeting. The young woman had come with her family. Xichen had looked apologetic, nearly wincing each time his gaze landed upon Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji is not stupid. He knows how these things work. He knows how his uncle thinks. He knows what to expect from the meeting that is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

"The only reason it has not been said right out," he murmurs now, "is because it's so clear." He thinks he's talking to himself but he's also waiting to hear what Wei Ying says next.

There's a long pause before Wei Ying says—almost wincing, reminiscent of Xichen's face all afternoon—"You know what's coming tomorrow morning." He sounds almost grim. Not pitying, for which Lan Wangji is grateful. While he feels quite sorry for himself, he cannot take pity at the moment.

He gives Wei Ying a short nod.

"Did Zewu-jun warn you?" Wei Ying demands. "He had to have known, right?"

"I should have known," Lan Wangji says softly. "I should have seen this coming."

"Why?" Wei Ying sounds outraged, which gives Lan Wangji a soft feeling in his stomach. He's unreasonably glad that Wei Ying is feeling all of the same feelings that Lan Wangji is pushing down in himself. "Why would you see this coming? Who would see this coming? Why would they make you—"

"Because I am the second of the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan." Lan Wangji had planned to say it stoically. Instead, it comes out bitter. "Because I am Hanguang-jun. Because I am Chief Cultivator. Because the first of the Twin Jades—" He cuts himself off before he says something he will regret.

Wei Ying actually winces this time, which is good. Lan Wangji is glad, somewhere in the less petty part of his soul, that Wei Ying cares enough about Xichen to wince at the unfair reaction Lan Wangji is having to the fact that Xichen is definitely no longer marriageable—at least not in any way that would benefit the clan.

Which leaves Lan Wangji. And Fan Nuying. To whom, tomorrow morning, he will be expected to silently, stoically, dutifully agree to be betrothed.

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

They sit, quietly fuming together for a few moments. It feels petty, and pointless, and strangely good.

"What if," Wei Ying says, and stops.

Lan Wangji's heart lurches in his chest as he stares at Wei Ying. Lan Wangji can't see a way out of this, but Wei Ying—Wei Ying is a problem solver. Lan Wangji watches him, and waits.

Wei Ying's eyes narrow as he looks at Lan Wangji. "What if," he says again. His eyes lose focus and he's gazing right through Lan Wangji, not seeing him, as he thinks. Lan Wangji feels like he can see his brain working at the problem. He knows, in his heart of hearts, that there is no solution here, and that having hope right now is foolish. He knows this.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says firmly, blinking his eyes back into focus and looking into Lan Wangji's eyes. "You know that everyone thinks you and I are—" He cuts himself off abruptly, but his meaning is clear.

Lan Wangji nods. He is aware that the cultivation world believes that his friendship with Wei Ying is unseemly. That most believe it is more than friendship. Lan Wangji himself believes it is more than friendship—not in the coarse way of the rumors that make their way to even his ears, but he does care more about Wei Ying than he does about anyone else.

He does not care about the coarse rumors.

Wei Ying is studying him carefully. "And you know," he says, "that those who don't believe that we're—" He waves his hand back and forth between them, and clears his throat. "That if they don't think that, they think that I'm dragging you into my...dirty cultivation techniques or whatever." He chews on his lip for a moment. "Or both," he says then. "I bet most people think...both."

Lan Wangji has not wasted time pondering that, but he is aware of it. He does not care about either of these rumors.

"And yet they still utilize your talismans," he says. "They tout the wonders of your inventions even as they are scandalized by you."

Wei Ying grins, quick and bright. "And yet you," he says, "are still marriageable, despite your uncouth association with the wicked Yiling Laozu." He raises one eyebrow. "One might discern a bit of a double standard there."

"One might," Lan Wangji agrees. He feels breathless with an unnamed anticipation. The flush in Wei Ying's cheeks means he's solved the problem. Lan Wangji waits.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, reaching out and taking both of Lan Wangji's hands in his own. "Will you marry me?"

"Everyone thinks we're...together, anyway," Wei Ying argues, leaning forward into Xichen's space, his whole body radiating with the conviction of his beliefs. "Everyone thinks I've pulled him into my wicked tricks. Everyone thinks they know what we're doing and that it's ten times worse because we're doing it in the most appalling way, because we're not even married." He gazes up at Xichen. "So why not make it legitimate?"

Xichen looks at Wei Ying with his mouth slightly open for a moment before turning pained eyes on Lan Wangji. "Brother," he says.

"Is he wrong?" Lan Wangji asks quietly.

Xichen opens his mouth, and closes it again. His gaze darts to Wei Ying and back to Lan Wangji. "You are still Chief Cultivator," he says helplessly. "You are still Hanguang-jun. You are still—"

"I am aware of my titles," Lan Wangji interrupts. "I am aware of my lineage."

"Uncle would like to see you married," Xichen says. Says it right out, the thing they've been talking around since the Fan contingent first arrived.

"Uncle will have his wish." Lan Wangji says it simply and reaches out his hand. Wei Ying slips his own hand into it immediately, clasping it tightly.

"Oh," Xichen says quietly. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes." Wei Ying's expression is determined.

"Wangji, you don't have to do this." Xichen is staring down at their clasped hands. "I'll—we can figure something out. I—Uncle will—"

"I know I do not have to," Lan Wangji breaks in. "I want to. It was not until the Fan clan arrived that I realized Uncle's plans." This much is true. "I believed that there was an understanding about Wei Ying." He pauses. "About Wei Ying and myself." That much, he realizes, is also true. Wei Ying regularly spends the night in the Jingshi. He comes to meetings with Lan Wangji, even though he has no part in them. He resides in Cloud Recesses even though he has no official role. No one questions it—not to Lan Wangji's face.

"Wangji," Xichen says it again, a pleading tone in his voice.

"I have no wish to bring shame to the family." Lan Wangji keeps his tone carefully neutral. "I realize, now, that relying upon the idea of an understanding results only in confusion, at best."

"We want to make it official," Wei Ying says cheerfully. "On the up and up. All according to the rules." He tilts his head, shooting a look at Lan Wangji. "We'll need a chaperone," he adds. "I can't take the risk of besmirching your good name. Not if we're going to be courting."

"Which we are," Lan Wangji says, giving Wei Ying's hand a quick squeeze before looking at his brother.

"Courting," Xichen says faintly.

"Courting." Lan Wangji puts conviction in his voice.

"When do we tell your uncle?" Wei Ying asks. "We should probably do it before the meeting with the Fan family, huh?"

Xichen closes his eyes for longer than a blink. "Right," he says. "That is...correct."

As is only appropriate, Xichen is the one who has to say the actual words to their uncle. Lan Wangji feels bad about that but, as Wei Ying had said, in order to have this be above board, they have to abide by the rules. It would not have been proper for Wei Ying to have gone directly to Lan Wangji. It would, perhaps, have been more proper for Wei Ying to have gone directly to Lan Qiren, but it was not outside the bounds of propriety for him to have gone to the eldest brother first.

"Particularly given the circumstances around the visit from the Fan clan," Xichen says smoothly, as though it were a given. As though he could convince their uncle everything about this was fine, if only he could maintain the proper tone. "When it became clear what the intention was." Xichen hesitates the slightest amount. "You were focused upon hosting the Fan clan," he continues. "And it is a great concern to mitigate the situation before the...potential arrangement can proceed any further."

His uncle's face is stormy, Lan Wangji observes. Lan Qiren’s face is red and his lips are thin and his teeth are clenched so tightly that it looks like his jaw may break. Lan Wangji is relieved that Xichen had managed to get their uncle to agree to clear the room for this conversation—he's fairly certain it's about to devolve.

"I thought it best," Xichen says firmly. "When we discussed it, I encouraged Brother to speak with clarity regarding his concerns."

Per Lan Clan rule number three hundred and forty six, Lan Wangji thinks, trying very hard not to be smug about it. He tilts his head minutely, catches Wei Ying's eye. The set of Wei Ying's mouth means he is also aware of rule number three hundred and forty six.

"Of course, upon convincing him to express to me his intentions, I immediately brought this to your attention." Xichen's voice and demeanor are still smooth, his posture immaculate, his face turned calmly up to face their uncle, as though he expects Uncle to accept this situation in a calm and rational manner.

It takes quite some time for the yelling to subside. They are presented with a tirade the likes of which Lan Wangji has seen a few too many times. He ponders, during the extent of it, whether Xichen having cleared the room for this conversation was, in fact, a positive thing. He'd initially taken into consideration the emotional response their uncle was going to have and had been relieved that it would occur in private.

Now, nearly seven minutes into his uncle's angry speech, he wonders if they would have been able to mitigate this reaction if there were members of the public, or of his uncle's staff, present.

It's a moot point, he decides after a while. They have only to get through it.

When Lan Wangji risks a glance out of the corner of his eye, Wei Ying does not look upset, despite the words that are coming out of Uncle's mouth. He looks vaguely distracted—much like Lan Wangji feels.

Uncle clocks their exchanged glance immediately. He takes a breath, clearly ramping up for another tirade, when Xichen smoothly interrupts. "It is nearly time for the meeting with the Fan clan," he says in an extremely calm, yet not patronizing, tone. "It would be best for us to explain the change in circumstances to them immediately when they arrive."

Uncle's face flickers through a range of emotions, all of them angry. "Very well," he grits out, much to Lan Wangji's surprise.

Telling the Fan family goes surprisingly better than expected. Fan Nuying, standing demurely behind her father, looking rather bored as she gazes at the floor, looks up in surprise when Lan Wangji's uncle stiffly indicates that his nephew is here with his betrothed. Lan Qiren's mouth twists on the word and something about that makes Lan Wangji's heart soar. Uncle uses the introduction as a method to avoid acknowledging that the Fan family was here specifically to claim Lan Wangji for their daughter. He made it sound as though Lan Wangji being betrothed was a known fact.

("It's a good idea," Wei Ying had said, "but it doesn't actually make any sense." He'd looked up at Lan Wangji. "What do I have to offer the venerable Lan Clan? What possible negotiations could be made to make this remotely feasible? I come with nothing attached." He had waved his hand around. "No familial connections, nothing that is going to make your uncle want to strike this bargain."

"And yet," Lan Wangji had responded quietly, "let us try."

Wei Ying had looked at him for a handful of seconds. "Let's try.")

The only way for the Fan family to save face is for them to behave as though they, too, had known that Lan Wangji was already being courted and their visit to Cloud Recesses was for another reason. Any other reason.

"Ah," is all Fan Nuying's father says.

Fan Nuying is looking at Lan Wangji and then her gaze skates over to Wei Ying. Her expression is assessing. She rakes her eyes over Wei Ying like she's taking inventory. When her gaze turns back to Lan Wangji, he meets her eyes steadily and, after a moment, raises one eyebrow an incremental amount.

The look she gives him is forthright and then she lets her gaze skate down his body as well, in a way she had not when they had met yesterday at what both of them understood was a meeting to establish their future marriage. She had seemed completely disinterested in the intimacy of the situation and had only paid attention when her father had turned the topic to the holdings of the Lan Clan.

Now, she's ignoring the counsel going on between her father and Lan Wangji's uncle, but she raises one eyebrow back at Lan Wangji in a way that would be shockingly brazen had it lasted for more than the split second it does. Then her face falls back into its bored lines from the previous day and she directs her gaze back down at the floor.

Lan Wangji feels his ears getting hot as he stands there, keeping his gaze straight ahead, focusing on the middle distance. She's not even looking at him anymore, but that brief assessment made him feel like she was picturing—that she was looking at him and Wei Ying and thinking about them—that she—

Wei Ying nudges him with one elbow, and Lan Wangji jerks his gaze over to him. From the corner of his eye, he sees Fan Nuying raise her eyes briefly and, when she looks back down, there's a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

His ears get hotter.

Wei Ying is making urgent eyes at him. Lan Wangji drags his attention back to the proceedings.

"Of course," his uncle is saying with gritted smoothness, "we have not officially announced the betrothal, as the negotiations around it have not yet been concluded."

Wei Ying makes a small noise in his throat.

"And we are aware that, should the agreement not come to fruition, it only stands to reason that the Second of the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan would be, as he is now, a powerful connection for any clan to have." Uncle looks smug as he says it, some of the anger receding as he makes it clear that the door is not closed on Lan Wangji's potential match. He does not turn his eyes to glare at Lan Wangji, but Lan Wangji knows his uncle well enough to know that he's doing it in his heart.

Lan Wangji does not turn his eyes towards Wei Ying. He knows the proper behavior here and he will not stray from it. He keeps his face solemn and his eyes unfocused. He thinks, with all of his heart, that even after all this time, his uncle has no idea what he's up against when it comes to Wei Ying.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says glumly that evening. They're no longer allowed to be alone together in the Jingshi, now that they're betrothed. Despite his uncle's assurance to the Fan contingent that they are not officially courting, he seemed to take great pleasure in confirming that they will need a chaperone from now on. "Until the official nuptials," he'd said.

Lan Wangji had never heard the word "nuptials" said with quite so much bitterness.

They are in the general dining pavilion, which is empty, as the dinner hour has long since passed. Lan Wangji had hoped that Xichen would be assigned chaperone, but he had been pulled immediately into a meeting with their uncle upon conclusion of the meeting with the Fan clan, so Wei Ying and Lan Wangji are being watched over by Mingsheng, a lower-level disciple. He is fairly young and takes his duty seriously, sitting stiffly within hearing distance, keeping his eyes on them, but also looking vaguely terrified every time his glance lands on Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying curiously, trying to see what his uncle's disciple sees.

Wei Ying has not deigned to sit at the table, insisting he needed instead to slump on the floor itself, leaning back against the wall, a jar of Emperor's Smile resting in his lap. Lan Wangji had brought the jar in and glanced stonily at Mingsheng, daring him to say something.

Mingsheng has apparently decided that his chaperone duties do not extend to enforcing this particular rule of the Lan Sect, and says not a word as Wei Ying opens the jar and takes a long pull.

Lan Wangji doesn't have the energy to tell Wei Ying to get off the floor, let alone sit up straight. From Lan Wangji’s vantage point, sitting neatly at the table next to him and drinking a cup of tea, Wei Ying's position looks almost comforting, the sprawl a physical representation of the emotional upheaval the day has brought.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says again.

"I am listening," Lan Wangji says.

"Lan Zhan, what are we going to do?" Wei Ying sighs and takes another drink from the jar. "This is the problem with my plans, you know. I have good plans. Solid plans. I just don't always think things through to their conclusion."

Lan Wangji knows this about Wei Ying. He also knows that Wei Ying is very, very good at pivoting when his plans go awry. "Continue with our plan," he says carefully, aware of Mingsheng's listening ears. "And see where it takes us."

Wei Ying sighs again. "If we had let your uncle have his way, you'd have been engaged to that girl by now." He takes another drink. "And the way she was looking at you—you saw that, right?"

"I saw," Lan Wangji says, pitching his voice low, "how she was looking at us."

"Yeah," Wei Ying says slowly. "I clocked that, too."

Lan Wangji watches him and, even in the soft light of the dining hall, he can see the blush rise on Wei Ying's cheeks.

Mingsheng clears his throat but when they both look over at him, he's got his gaze focused blankly on some spot high on the wall over Lan Wangji's head. Lan Wangji suddenly remembers him from earlier—he'd been in the room for the meeting with the Fan clan as well.

Fan Nuying's look had not been subtle.

"She came with a dowry," Wei Ying says, his voice gloomy. "I bet her father was going to offer your uncle a whole lot more than—" He gestures up and down at himself, and sighs. "Fuck."

Lan Wangji always knew that this pretense of courting was a delaying technique, at best. He hadn't seen the visit by the Fan contingent coming; he hadn't had time to think. "We have some time," he says. Not much, but some. "The Fan clan is staying to negotiate a trade agreement with Uncle." To save face, perhaps.

Wei Ying slumps even lower on the floor, taking another messy sip of liquor. "To wait it out," he says flatly. "Your uncle will find a way to deny the betrothal."

"Possibly," Lan Wangji says. "But we knew that he would try. We just need a little bit of time."

"They want to wait it out?" Wei Ying says, sitting up straighter. "We can wait longer." He takes another long pull. "Besides," he says, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That girl is worth a lot of money, like we said." He sounds hopeful this time. "Why would they wait around? She'll get claimed by someone else in no time."

Lan Wangji tries not to let the hope rise in his heart. "Perhaps," he says.

"And besides," Wei Ying says then, clearly warming to his topic, "you've been sullied by the Yiling Laozu."

Mingsheng's eyes shoot over to them immediately, like he'd somehow find them engaged in coitus here in the main dining hall without his having noticed.

Lan Wangji doesn't even bother giving him a glance. He keeps his eyes on Wei Ying, who is beaming up at him. "Who'd even want you, after that?"

Lan Wangji just keeps looking at Wei Ying, trying again to tamp down hope. "It does seem unlikely," he says, "that there would be many. Particularly those who would be able to make an acceptable offer to Uncle."

"Right!" Wei Ying beams up at him. "I have the best ideas." He reaches up to take Lan Wangji's hands in his own, clasping them tightly.

Lan Wangji does believe that about Wei Ying, in general. He allows himself a flutter of hope that it may hold true here.

From the corner of his eye, he notes Mingsheng leaning forward, mouth open, his eyes intent on where their hands are clasped.

The disciple is staring at Wei Ying—Wei Ying, who is crouched in front of Lan Wangji, black robes spread around him on the floor, the red ribbon from his topknot trailing forward over his shoulder. He's spilled liquor down his neck and it glistens in the lamplight. He's giving Lan Wangji that particular smile he has, sure and certain and with more than just a hint of wickedness.

Lan Wangji allows his thumb to rub slowly over the side of Wei Ying's hand and does not deign to glance at Mingsheng. "You do," he says softly, gazing into Wei Ying's eyes.

Wei Ying beams at him. "Just you wait," he says, like a promise.

Lan Wangji allows his eyes to soften and hears a soft huff of scandalized breath from Mingsheng. But when Lan Wangji tilts his head to look at him, Mingsheng is staring off into the corner and resolutely pretending he's seen nothing.

Lan Wangji doesn't allow himself to linger in bed, unwilling to face the day, but he can't deny that he wishes he could. He rises at his usual time and goes through his morning ritual of meditation, sword practice, bathing, but through it all, he's unfocused. His eyes feel gritty, his brain slow. He'd fallen into his usual immediate sleep but had woken up somewhere in the dark of night and couldn't find a peaceful sleep again.

It had been strange to go to sleep by himself. Wei Ying spends the night with him often enough that Lan Wangji has grown used to drifting off to sleep to the sound of Wei Ying's rustles at his writing desk—doing research, creating talismans, reading through whatever latest treatise has captured his interest.

He hadn't quite realized it had become such a common background noise that the silence had been the thing that had woken him. Lying there in the darkness, he'd realized that in particular after nights like this—when they had worked together on something, when they had spent the evening with their heads together, working something out, deep in the sort of free-wheeling and sometimes heated debate that Lan Wangji has learned to enjoy as they figured out one thing or another together—those were most often the nights when it would creep up to Lan Wangji's bedtime before he realized it. Sometimes he did realize it but let it go past by minutes, or occasionally hours, so pleasing was that level of collaboration with Wei Ying.

Now, he sits at his table as his tea brews and contemplates what the day might bring. It's rare that he is quite so thoroughly unable to anticipate it.

He keeps expecting Wei Ying to burst through his doors—even on those nights that he does not end up sleeping in the Jingshi, he quite often shows up in the morning, disheveled and still half-asleep, with crease marks on his face from his sheets, already halfway into an explanation of something he and Lan Wangji had discussed the previous day.

But—no. Now, they have created a situation where that is not allowed. They can't be alone together, not while they are betrothed.

"Lan Zhan," he hears from outside, a loud cry breaking the quiet of the morning. "Lan Zhan," he hears again, and of course it's Wei Ying—who else would break the rules quite so vociferously? Even the junior disciples generally have more discipline than that.

Lan Wangji rises and heads swiftly to the door, sliding it open. Wei Ying is outside, skittering to a halt with a clatter, the loose stones of the path scattering around him. His hair is a rumpled mess, topknot half falling out, and he's blowing strands of hair out of his face as he tries to catch his breath.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says, taking a swift step backwards. "We can't—" If they are seen alone together, under any circumstances—

"I know," Wei Ying pants out. He reaches out and drags Mingsheng into view, from where he had been standing off to the side, clearly trying to catch his breath after Wei Ying had taken him on a forced run through Cloud Recesses. Mingsheng is trying to look as though he has not just broken any rule whatsoever, at the same time that he's taking in panting breaths and sweat is rolling down his reddened face.

Lan Wangji blinks at him, then refocuses on Wei Ying, who is bracing himself on his knees, still trying to catch his breath. "What is it?" he asks.

"Jiang Cheng," Wei Ying wheezes, "is here."

Lan Wangji feels himself blanch.

"Jiang Cheng is here," Wei Ying pants again, "and is meeting with your uncle." He gulps in air. "Lan Zhan, we have to do something!"

"Yes," he agrees. He looks at Wei Ying's hair, which is down around his shoulders in crazed tangles, and at his robes, which are barely fastened. His inner one seems to be on inside-out, in fact. "Once you are prepared."

"I'm prepared," Wei Ying says, making a face and starting to try to scoop his hair up into his topknot. "I'm prepared for Jiang Cheng to possibly destroy my life. Our life. Our lives," he corrects himself. His hair is lumpy and only barely held in place.

Lan Wangji reaches forward, intending to turn Wei Ying around so he can fix his hair.

Mingsheng clears his throat.

Lan Wangji lets his hands drop. It is remarkably strange to not be able to touch Wei Ying.

Wei Ying slants a glare at Mingsheng. "It's fine, I've got it," he says, blowing out his breath as he struggles once again with his hair, this time finally achieving a smoother topknot.

Lan Wangji indicates the neck of his own robes and Wei Ying glances down at himself, spots the inside-out inner red robes. "Oh, for fu—"

Lan Wangji and Mingsheng clear their throats at the same time.

"We have to go," Wei Ying says urgently. "They won't even notice. Come on, let's—"

Lan Wangji tilts his head at the Jingshi.

Wei Ying blows out his breath. "Fine. Fine." He keeps muttering under his breath as he storms inside, already wrenching open his outer robes.

Lan Wangji and Mingsheng wait in silence: Lan Wangji's peaceful, if slightly tinged by anxiety; Mingsheng's sleepy and slightly tinged by a silent reproof at Wei Ying's behavior.

"Okay," Wei Ying calls out, sliding the doors open with a bang. "Okay, let's go."

His robes are on correctly, everything in place, and his hair is smooth, his eyes a bit wild.

"We cannot simply interrupt their meeting," Lan Wangji points out. It would be an act of total impropriety, and they really do need every means they have to make their case at the moment.

"You're Chief Cultivator," Wei Ying says indignantly. "You can interrupt any meeting you want!"

"Under this particular circumstance," Lan Wangji says, "my status matters only as it pertains to the cultivators, not sect business."

Wei Ying chews on his lip for a moment. "Lan Xichen," he says finally. "Lan Xichen can interrupt your uncle. He'll be all about sect business."

Lan Wangji hesitates.

"Lan Zhan, every second my brother is in there alone with your uncle brings us closer to a war between the sects."

Wei Ying may be exaggerating, but not by much. "Let's get my brother," Lan Wangji agrees.

Xichen is a little bewildered when they arrive to drag him over to the pavilion where their uncle takes meetings, but comes along graciously.

"You've met my brother, right?" Wei Ying says breathlessly, as he strides along ahead of the rest of them on the path. "He'll ruin everything. We've got to—"

"It will be fine," Xichen says with confident assurance.

Lan Wangji eyes his brother and has his doubts.

Xichen speaks quietly to the disciple outside the pavilion and asks to be announced. The disciple slips inside and, after a moment, emerges to guide them in. He indicates they are to wait until his uncle calls on them. Wei Ying is practically vibrating in place as he stares across the room with wide eyes. He opens his mouth and Lan Wangji catches his eye, giving a firm shake of his head.

Wei Ying settles back on his heels, glowering but silent.

Jiang Wanyin sits across the low table from Uncle. His hands are clenched in tight fists on his knees and his jaw is jutting forward as he speaks in tight, intent tones. Uncle listens, with an expression on his face that nearly matches the belligerent one Jiang Wanyin is wearing.

It takes a moment for the words to filter through.

"I have offered an amount of property that, I'm sure you will concede, is more than generous when matched with the terms we have already come to an agreement on." Jiang Wanyin's words are appropriate, the barely-contained rage filtering through his tone slightly less so. "Not to mention that an affiliation between the Jiang and the Lan clans would be beneficial to both parties."

Lan Wangji feels very foolish for not realizing the reason why Jiang Wanyin is here. For the last few wild minutes, he was certain it was to drag Wei Ying to Lotus Pier.

Instead, he is negotiating a dowry.

Lan Wangji can't help but look over at Wei Ying. Wei Ying has gone very, very pale. He's staring at his brother as the negotiations continue.

When the negotiations finally break, Jiang Wanyin pushes himself to his feet and gives Uncle an appropriate bow before spinning on his heel and heading directly over to his brother.

"What are you doing here, Jiang Cheng?" Wei Ying's voice comes out strangled.

"Getting screwed by Hanguang-jun's uncle," Jiang Wanyin responds, then glances at Lan Wangji. "Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound very much so.

Lan Wangji gives him a stony look but there's not much heart in it—his brain is too busy whizzing around wondering why he hadn't considered this to be a possibility.

"You don't have to do this." Wei Ying still sounds nearly nothing like himself. He is wild-eyed and jittering anxiously. "Jiang Cheng, seriously, this isn't something you need to worry about."

Jiang Wanyin presses his lips together and the look he gives Wei Ying isn't so much of a glare as it is—

Lan Wangji isn't sure how to parse it. He certainly doesn't look happy, or calm, but neither does he look particularly angry. He's looking at Wei Ying steadily, and even though his hand is clenched tightly around his sword, his expression is almost soft.

Almost.

"I'm not worried about it," he says tightly. "I'm working on it."

"I don't need a dowry, Jiang Cheng, it's fine." Wei Ying blows out his breath in exasperation.

The look Jiang Wanyin gives him is nothing short of incredulous. "Yes, you fucking do," he says. "And I'm offering a substantial one, but Lan Qiren is being—" He looks at Lan Wangji and clearly bites back what he was going to say. "Anyway, I'm working on it, it's fine."

"I didn't mean for you to have to take care of this." Wei Ying's eyes are steady on his brother. "I can figure it out."

Jiang Wanyin rolls his eyes and pushes at Wei Ying's shoulder. "You're an idiot," he says. He glances over his shoulder, where Uncle is approaching the negotiation table once again. "Now get out, I'm busy."

He squares his shoulders and heads back to the table. He looks determined and, if Lan Wangji is reading his face correctly, almost excited.

When Lan Wangji glances over at Wei Ying, his face as he watches his brother sit down neatly across from Uncle and lean forward to continue the negotiations is a portrait of bewildered resignation.

Lan Wangji nudges his shoulder gently.

"Right." Wei Ying comes to himself with a start. "Right, we should—go. Right?"

Lan Wangji nods and turns, Mingsheng falling into step as they head out.

"I sort of just thought that, I don't know," Wei Ying says, sighing heavily. "I guess I thought we'd just—" He glances over at Mingsheng. "I didn't think Jiang Cheng would get involved," he finishes dully.

Lan Wangji somehow hadn't, either. He knows it should have been something they considered, but they just...hadn't.

"We had to figure out something quickly." Wei Ying has his chin resting on his crossed hands on the table in front of him, lips pressed together in a pout. He still has that wild look around his eyes he gets when surprised by his brother's presence.

Lan Wangji nods. They had. And now—

"And now we've created a whole thing." Wei Ying doesn't lift his chin off of his hands as he speaks, his words coming out disheartened.

Mingsheng is sitting one table over, studiously not watching them.

Lan Wangji takes a breath. "Wei Ying," he says then, steadily. "Do you wish to retract your proposal?"

Both Wei Ying and Mingsheng lurch forward from their seated positions at Lan Wangji's words.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying's voice is urgent, helpless. "No, that's not what I—no, of course not, I—" He's sitting up straight now, leaning forward, grabbing Lan Wangji's hands in his own.

Lan Wangji feels a small ping of relief in his chest but— "If this is too much," he says carefully. "If having your brother needing to negotiate this is—"

"It isn't." Wei Ying says it firmly, his hands tight over Lan Wangji's own. "I mean it. You know how Jiang Cheng gets to me. I was just—surprised." He laughs a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and it's such a familiar, comforting sight that the tension in Lan Wangji's chest eases further. "I sort of figured he'd given up on me," Wei Ying says lightly. "I honestly didn't even consider the question of a dowry."

"But without a dowry, there is no way that Grandmaster would ever consider—" Mingsheng cuts himself off as both Lan Wangji and Wei Ying look over to where he is leaning in and looking concerned. His face flushes and he presses his lips together and resumes staring into the middle distance.

Lan Wangji lets it sit for a beat before he turns back to Wei Ying.

"He's not wrong," Wei Ying says then, casting another look over at Mingsheng. "I just didn't think—"

"Neither of us considered it," Lan Wangji says.

"Nope." Wei Ying looks forlorn. "We were too caught up in—" He glances over at Mingsheng again. "—being so in love with each other," he finishes brightly. He's still holding onto Lan Wangji's hands and he tilts his head a little bit, running his thumb over the curve of Lan Wangji's thumb, letting it trail down to his wrist. It is the smallest of touches, meant to draw Mingsheng's attention, to illustrate the veracity of his words. It sends a hot thrum through Lan Wangji, his heart beating faster than it should.

"Mn," he says. They had been too caught up in it; in any plan that would avoid Lan Wangji having to marry Fan Nuying. He'd known in his heart that it was only a stopgap measure—that it was merely a way to avoid the most immediate issue and not a foolproof plan. He hadn't been looking for foolproof. He'd only been looking at Wei Ying.

"And now we have Jiang Cheng to deal with," Wei Ying sighs.

"Mn," Lan Wangji says again. "From what we overheard, he's offering a substantial dowry." He says it carefully, unsure how Wei Ying feels about that.

"I know," Wei Ying says glumly. "He doesn't have to do that. He shouldn't—this isn't—" He blows out a breath. "I swear I didn't think about this part," he says again, "but if I had, I would never have thought he would come." He looks up at Lan Wangji. "I would never have thought he'd offer...what he's offering."

Lan Wangji thinks, now, about Jiang Wanyin's eyes earlier, flashing with something like anger, as he'd said, "I'm not going to let any clan think that they can claim someone from my sect and take them on like they're some sort of pauper." He'd glared at Wei Ying like it was Wei Ying who had deliberately insulted him, instead of no one having offered any insult whatsoever. "You'll get an appropriate dowry and the Lan clan will be goddamn lucky to have you," Jiang Wanyin had spat out.

Wei Ying's expression had been a combination of astonished, annoyed, and softly vulnerable in the face of his brother's simmering rage. "Jiang Cheng," he'd said softly. "You don't—"

"I do," Jiang Wanyin had said shortly, and then punched Wei Ying hard in the shoulder. "I can't believe I had to find out from Nie Huaisang," he'd said. "Everyone assumed I knew. You made me look like a fucking idiot." He'd hit Wei Ying again.

Lan Wangji had decided he was going to make Jiang Wanyin regret it should he raise his fist once more, dowry or no dowry.

"I'm sorry," Wei Ying had said then, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder and looking at his brother with warmth in his eyes. "I really am, Jiang Cheng. We didn't—we hadn't quite—" He'd glanced over at Lan Wangji, trying to figure out how to explain without actually explaining, but in the next moment, Jiang Wanyin had caught him in a rough hug, lasting moments only before he'd shoved Wei Ying away. "It took you both long enough," he'd said, turning away to wipe at his eyes. "I thought this would happen a long time ago."

"What," Wei Ying had said, staring.

"I sort of figured you'd never get there," Jiang Wanyin had said, "but I thought the venerable Hanguang-jun would have figured it out."

"Mn," Lan Wangji had said, for lack of any more pertinent response. Figured what out?

Now, in the dining hall, Lan Wangji feels the weight of both Wei Ying's and Mingsheng's gaze upon him. "The dowry your brother is offering," he says to Wei Ying, "is appropriate enough that Uncle will have a difficult time refusing it."

"Near impossible," Mingsheng breaks in.

They both turn to look at him.

"It's more than the Fan clan was going to offer," he says then, leaning in intently. "I don't see how Grandmaster could turn it down."

"He could," Wei Ying says flatly. "I'm still the Yiling Laozu."

"Yes, but—" Mingsheng is cut off as the door to the dining hall bursts open and Sizhui enters in in a flurry, clearly having been pushed from behind. "Find out," they all hear Jingyi hiss from behind him.

Sizhui casts an agonized look behind himself, then straightens and walks sedately towards them. He bows before Lan Wangji, saying softly, "Hanguang-jun."

"Sizhui." Lan Wangji eyes him.

"Wei-qianbei," Sizhui says, turning to bow to Wei Ying instead of meeting Lan Wangji's eyes.

"What is it, Sizhui?" Wei Ying is the one who asks it, sounding weary and resigned. "Just. Fine. You have a question? Ask."

"No, no, it's nothing," Sizhui says hurriedly, taking a careful step back. His eyes are darting between the two of them, however, and his hands are clasped in front of him tightly enough that his knuckles are white.

"Okay," Wei Ying says. "Then you can—"

"Only," Sizhui breaks in, then presses his lips together, looking shocked at himself for interrupting. "My apologies. I didn't mean to—that is, I should not have—" He takes in a breath through his nose, lets it out slowly. "I'll just..." He starts to bow again, clearly meaning to take his leave.

"Sizhui," Lan Wangji says.

"Right," Sizhui says after a moment, straightening back up. "We—I heard that you were betrothed." He says it quickly, like if he didn't get all the words out at once, he never would. "To each other." He looks first at Lan Wangji, then at Wei Ying. "Are you? To each other?"

Wei Ying lets the question sit there for a beat before he says, "We are. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Sizhui asks. There's a rattle at the door behind him, a shadow like someone's trying to peek through.

"Sect Leader Jiang arrived this morning," Lan Wangji says smoothly, "to negotiate the dowry."

"Oh." The way Sizhui says it is imbued with apprehension. "Oh, that will be—interesting."

Wei Ying moans a little, and slumps back down in his seat, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

Sizhui is staring at Lan Wangji, his expression open, clearly curious. "But you really are? Betrothed, I mean, to each other? Mostly?"

"Yes," Lan Wangji responds.

"Who asked who?" comes from the crack between the doors, a stage whisper that echoes across the room. "Find out who asked who!"

Sizhui presses his lips together tightly, looking pained. Lan Wangji gives him a look that contains the principles of rules eight, twenty three, and seven hundred and ninety two. Sizhui knows better than to gossip.

"I asked him," Wei Ying says glumly. "I asked him, because I wanted him to be happy, and him being happy makes me happy, and it seemed like a fundamentally good idea. Only now Jiang Cheng is in negotiations with Lan Qiren, which cannot end well, and Mingsheng here is our permanent third wheel, and we are at the center of Junior Gossip Central and honestly, we should have just eloped." He looks at Lan Wangji. "We should have just eloped, Lan Zhan. Why didn't we think of that?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. "Uncle would not have recognized that."

"Right." Wei Ying slumps back glumly. "Right."

"Details," they hear Jingyi hissing from the doorway. "Get details or—"

"Hanguang-jun," Sizhui says loudly, and bows to the exact degree of appropriateness, his face pained. "Wei-qianbei. Apologies for disturbing you."

He makes a swift exit, his steps hurried, and he eases the door open only just enough to slide through before closing it quickly behind him.

"You didn't even find out any details," Jingyi's dismayed stage-whisper comes ringing through into the dining room. "Did he ask Grandmaster first? Did Grandmaster know it was coming? Did Wei-qianbei cry when he asked Hanguang-jun? I bet he cried. They've been in love since forever. Does this mean that they weren't doing it all along?" His voice recedes somewhat, Sizhui clearly leading him away, the clatter of stones under their boots echoing as he does so. "Or that they were and they just want to make it legitimate now?"

The last thing they hear is Sizhui's pained voice saying, "Jingyi, please stop talking."

Mingsheng assumes his usual look of gazing into the middle distance, but his ears are very, very red and there is a set to his mouth that makes it clear that he has Jingyi's questions ringing in his ears, as does Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying. Wei Ying has his face pressed against the table. "We knew that was what people thought," Lan Wangji points out softly.

"They are children, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, words muffled against the lacquered wood of the table. "They are children and they are thinking about us—" He cuts himself off, lifting his head to gaze at Lan Wangji in despair. He has a red mark on his forehead from where it was pressed against the table. His hair is a mess.

Lan Wangji suddenly, inexplicably, wants to laugh. He doesn't, but he can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up just a little.

Wei Ying's mouth drops open. "You think this is funny?" he says, sounding indignant. "You, of all people—the staid and respectable Hanguang-jun—you think having your good name besmirched by gossiping children is funny??"

It takes nearly every ounce of Lan Wangji's not-inconsiderable control to keep his reaction to one raised eyebrow as he repeats, "Besmirched."

"Besmirched, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says. "I said it! You are! You heard them! That's what everyone—" He cuts himself off. "It actually is a very good thing that I asked you to marry me, Jiang Cheng or no Jiang Cheng." His indignation is rising to a fiery peak. "If for no other reason than to make an honest man out of you. Not that you weren't! But they apparently don't know that."

Lan Wangji reflects that it is, in fact, extremely unfortunate that in the moment, he can only seem to process how genuinely amusing this entire scenario is, from beginning to end. He looks fondly at Wei Ying, whose entire body is trembling with indignation. "It is," he agrees. "It is a very good thing."

"Okay." Wei Ying stands up, wrenching his robes into order as he does so, and reaching up to straighten his topknot. "Okay, well, we agree on that. Let's go."

"Where?" Lan Wangji inquires, rising smoothly to his feet.

"To watch the end of the negotiations," Wei Ying says. "I want to make sure Jiang Cheng doesn't get screwed on this." He glances up at Lan Wangji. "Sorry, but—you know what I mean."

Lan Wangji does.

Lan Wangji thinks he will fall asleep immediately. It has been a long day filled with complexity and his brain is whirring inside his skull. He knows meditation will help calm his turbulent thoughts, but he doesn't have the fortitude for even that when he arrives back at the Jingshi. He goes through the least amount of steps possible to prepare for bed. When he douses the lamps and is left in shadowed darkness, it feels like sinking into a deep, warm pool of water.

He settles himself into bed in the deep blue darkness, breathing in and out slowly, trying to trace over the events of the day and then let them go. He keeps getting caught on the edges of them: Wei Ying's face this morning as he had arrived, disheveled and panicked; the unlikely image of his uncle and Wei Ying's brother caught up in heated negotiations across the table from each other; Fan Nuying's face as she swept her eyes over both Wei Ying and himself, appraising and obvious. He feels himself flushing in the darkness as he considers what she had been thinking that had resulted in the arch look she had given him. He'd expected, perhaps, her reaction to be anger over a lost potential union between their clans, or disgust over the idea of him and the Yiling Laozu doing...whatever it was she had been thinking about.

Instead, her look had been one of interest—the first look of interest in him he had seen since he'd met her.

He opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying again to calm the whirring in his brain. He slows his breathing, measuring it out in moments. He relaxes his shoulders consciously; he unclenches his hands from the fists into which he has unconsciously clenched them. He has just closed his eyes again when there is a rustling sound from off to one side, by the window. When his eyes snap open, it's to see a paperman easing in, fluttering down on the small breeze that follows it.

Lan Wangji is too tired to push himself up to sitting. He watches the paperman flutter its way along the floor. It manages to catch a soft breeze and float its way onto Lan Wangji's bed, landing right by his head on the pillow. He turns onto his side to face it. The faceless, animated paperman shuffles forward, exuding an air of pleasure at finding Lan Wangji awake. He feels it. He knows it. This is Wei Ying, insofar as it is a piece of paper imbued with his energy. His spirit, strong enough to come through clearly even with limited movements, no facial expressions, nothing but the irrepressible energy that he'd know anywhere.

Besides, who else would be so bold?

The paperman freezes and then drifts, lifeless, slipping down Lan Wangji's pillow. There's a creak at the entrance to the Jingshi a moment later and he hears the near-silent shift of the doors. They slide open for a moment only, the slightest amount, and then Wei Ying is inside, sidling up to his bed and sliding down to the floor beside it, smelling of the crisp air of the autumn night.

"I wanted to be sure you were still awake," Wei Ying says, grinning at him as he curls up, resting his chin on one knee.

"And alone," Lan Wangji points out mildly.

"Right," Wei Ying agrees. "It wouldn't be proper for you to be receiving an unchaperoned visit from your betrothed."

"My virtue," Lan Wangji says, "is at stake."

Wei Ying's grin flashes bright in the darkness. "What have we done, Lan Zhan?" He rests one elbow on the bed, leaning his head against his arm and looking up Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji curls further forward on his side, still too weary to raise his head. He feels less at sea, however, with Wei Ying here. Together, they can figure this out. "At least," he says, "I'm not betrothed to Fan Nuying."

"We did accomplish that much." Wei Ying settles down further, blinking slowly at Lan Wangji in the dimness. "But now there's a dowry."

"And a chaperone." Lan Wangji thinks about Wei Ying's sleeping pallet that had been ostentatiously removed yesterday.

"Mingsheng," Wei Ying says glumly. "That's a problem."

It is. His presence hinders their ability to discuss. To plan. To figure out the way forward. They've always worked best when it is just the two of them together. "It's odd to have someone present. All the time."

"It is." Wei Ying shifts a little bit on the floor next to him. It's too dark to really see his eyes, even though he's resting his head on the bed not that far from Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji is tired enough for all of this to have a hint of the surreal, to imagine that it's taking place one step outside reality. "Lan Zhan." Wei Ying's tone is one of confession. "I got used to being alone with you." He sighs a little, and Lan Wangji can feel it as his weight settles against the side of the bed. "And now..."

"And now," Lan Wangji says in soft agreement. Sleep feels much closer than before. It's been an exhausting day, and it's much past his normal bedtime. His eyes feel like sandpaper, still, but his brain feels somewhat calmed by the warmth of Wei Ying curled up beside the bed. "Aren't you cold?" he asks. "You should—" He's not sure what it is he thinks Wei Ying should do.

"I'm okay." Wei Ying shivers a little and when Lan Wangji reaches out to him, he lets his hand creep into Lan Wangji's. "I'm good, now." He sighs, resting his head against the bed. "He's going to sign the letter tomorrow," he says. "Jiang Cheng is. Confirming the dowry." He laughs softly. "I have a dowry, Lan Zhan."

"You never needed one," Lan Wangji says, feeling sleepy and soft.

"For this to really work, I did." Wei Ying sighs. "I should have thought of that." He's quiet, then, and Lan Wangji watches him chew on his lip for a few moments. "I should have thought of a lot of things. I just wanted—"

Wei Ying stops again, and Lan Wangji frowns into the darkness. "I'm sorry," he says. "You didn't have to do this. I didn't mean for you to—"

"You didn't make me do anything." Wei Ying's voice is soft, and fierce, in the darkness. "We had to figure it out. We're going to figure it out."

Again—like in the moment when Wei Ying had proposed and Lan Wangji had accepted—Lan Wangji believes him. He believes him with all of his heart. They will. They have, perhaps, not anticipated everything they should have, but already Wei Ying has a dowry, and the Fan Nuying family is scheduled to leave tomorrow mid-morning. Surely these are both positive results.

"I should go," Wei Ying says quietly. "If anyone finds me here, at this point, I literally will have destroyed your virtue, you know."

"According to Lan Jingyi," Lan Wangji says, "that ship has sailed."

Wei Ying breaks into giggles, trying and failing to smother them against the bed. Lan Wangji finds his own mouth tilting up in a smile as he watches him. He does not wish to be married. He wants only this—to have his days and his nights as his own, to spend his time as he sees fit. He's so tired and now, the darkness growing deeper through his windows, Wei Ying by his side, he feels his body relaxing, his eyelids growing ever heavier.

"Ah, Lan Zhan, it is so far past your bedtime." Wei Ying's hand is soft in his, and he squeezes his fingers gently. "I should let you sleep. I'll slip out of here—carefully," he adds, drawing a fresh paperman out of his robes. "I'll be sure no one sees."

Lan Wangji's eyes keep closing for longer than a blink, no matter how he tries to keep them open. "Wei Ying," he says.

Wei Ying looks at him in the dim light, his hand still warm against his own. He waits.

Lan Wangji has nothing to follow it up with. Instead, he lets his fingers squeeze Wei Ying's in return. Wei Ying's smile flashes again, sudden and brilliant. "We'll figure it out," he says. "I've got you."

Wei Ying, Lan Wangji thinks, as sleep draws him closer, has got him. He falls asleep with the rustle of paper in his ears, the soft slide of the doors the last thing he's aware of before he's drawn down fully into sleep.

The dowry is decided, and agreed upon.

An auspicious date is decided, and agreed upon.

The location is Cloud Recesses, after much heated debate between Jiang Wanyin and Lan Wangji's uncle. Jiang Wanyin finally allows it, after much discussion, but secretly, Wei Ying tells Lan Wangji, he thinks Jiang Wanyin feels as though he won that battle, seeing as how he doesn't have to foot the bill for the guests.

"Still," Lan Wangji says, as they take yet another interminable, sedate walk through the winding paths, working to keep Mingsheng at a reasonable distance so that Lan Wangji and Wei Ying may speak in peace. "We must—" He hesitates. The date of the wedding is some few months away, the closest they could schedule it without intimating some sort of scandalous reason behind it. "It's close," he finishes, finally.

"It is." Wei Ying's tone is careless, unconcerned, as Lan Wangji had anticipated.

He still has a plan. Lan Wangji's heart quickens as he realizes it. This need not all end in the devastation Lan Wangji has been picturing.

"Mn," Lan Wangji says, in breathless anticipation.

"So," Wei Ying says, turning to him and, with a quick glance behind them, drawing him off of the path and back into the trees with him. "Listen, I have an idea."

There is a rustle of leaves on the path some way away from them, and Wei Ying unhesitatingly reaches his hand up behind Lan Wangji's head and draws his mouth down to his own. Wei Ying's lips are soft, and warm, and Lan Wangji melts against him before he can think better of it. Wei Ying makes a sound against his mouth that Lan Wangji feels throughout his entire body and without willing it, Lan Wangji backs Wei Ying up against a tree. He's got him pressed there, their mouths together in what is still, by any rational definition, a fairly chaste kiss.

Lan Wangji feels it throughout his entire body.

"Ah." Wei Ying gasps against his lips. "Hang on, just—"

Lan Wangji is lost in the tension of Wei Ying's body against his own, in how soft and warm his lips are, in the decadence, the freedom of what they're doing. He—

There is the loud sound of Mingsheng clearing his throat behind them. "I shall take a turn around this copse of trees," he announces as they break apart from each other. "It should take several minutes." He walks off, his boots rustling in the fallen leaves.

Lan Wangji looks after him, then over at Wei Ying, who is still right next to him, his hand clutching at Lan Wangji's sleeve where he'd wrapped it as they'd kissed. "Right," he says, faintly, looking up at Lan Wangji. Then he snaps to attention. "Right," he says more firmly. "That's what I thought might happen. Okay, so, here, we have at least a few minutes to talk."

Talk. Lan Wangji blinks at him. Right. "There should be no physical intimacy," he says, "before the marriage vows." He knows this rule, as he knows all of the other rules.

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying looks at him, his eyes twinkling a little in the rich autumn light filtering through the trees. "Everyone breaks that rule a little bit. That's why Mingsheng is giving us some privacy. Some premarital kissing is a good thing."

It is. It was. Lan Wangji had not anticipated kissing being part of this. But since it has bought them some privacy, he can see that bending the rule might be beneficial. "I understand."

"Okay, so." Wei Ying leans in close. "The goal here was to avoid you being married off to the Fan clan, right? We accomplished that. Kind of. Largely. I sort of figured we could just let everyone know we were courting and ride it out until they left—that girl is going to find another suitor in no time—and then your uncle would be irritated, sure, but we could, like, have some sort of public fight and then break off the engagement, right? With the idea that hopefully by then your uncle will just be so relieved that you're no longer planning to marry the Yiling Laozu that he'll give up on the idea of marrying you off entirely."

He's made the speech all in one breath, looking intently at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji tilts his head. "I'm not certain—" he starts.

"I know, I know." Wei Ying waves one hand in the air. "It's not foolproof, and I definitely forgot about the dowry, and sort of really didn't think your uncle would set a date so quickly, but for right now, what we've got to do is convince them it's real. The more real it looks, the more convincing it will be when we break it off."

"With a public fight," Lan Wangji says. He keeps his face neutral, but Wei Ying sees his misgivings nonetheless.

"I know, I know, but listen, it's me," Wei Ying says. "I'd irritate anyone into dumping me sooner or later. We can play it off. It'll be fine."

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying. He strongly disagrees with his assessment on every point. He ponders for a moment the idea of renouncing Wei Ying, even temporarily. He can't picture it. "Wei Ying," he starts, just as there is a loud tread of Mingsheng completing his circuit and returning to them.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathes, surging close and resting one hand on his cheek. He gazes up at Lan Wangji, his eyes warm and intense. "It will all be okay." He pushes up on his toes a little, swaying towards him just as Mingsheng comes into view. He stays there for a moment before moving back, his gaze dropping as he pivots away from Mingsheng, as though shy at being caught.

Lan Wangji's cheek still feels warm from where Wei Ying's hand had been. He takes a breath and lets his own gaze fall on Mingsheng. He keeps his chin up, leveling him with a stare.

"I—" Mingsheng coughs into his sleeve. "Shall we continue our walk?" He's the one, now, who sets out at a faster pace, leading them back to the path, keeping himself several paces ahead of them.

Wei Ying and Lan Wangji follow behind. Lan Wangji allows himself to tip his head close to Wei Ying, as he's seen other lovers do while courting. Wei Ying's mouth quirks up in a smile and he walks close enough to Lan Wangji that his robes brush against him as they walk. "We've got this," he says reassuringly. "Trust me."

"Family dinner," Wei Ying says thoughtfully. "What tack to take?"

"You've been to family dinners before," Sizhui points out.

"I have, yes," Wei Ying replies. "And Lan Qiren didn't like me then; he certainly isn't going to like me better now."

They're in Wei Ying's quarters—doors flung open for propriety, Sizhui serving as chaperone, Mingsheng taking a well-deserved break. It strikes Lan Wangji, as he enters, that he's never spent time in Wei Ying's quarters, not once during all the months that Wei Ying has resided at Cloud Recesses. He's been aware of them, of course: Wei Ying does not spend every night with him in the Jingshi, but he does so regularly enough that Lan Wangji rarely thinks about him having his own space.

Wei Ying's quarters are relatively small, made all the more so by his things flung everywhere. Sizhui has clearly spent time here—it's made obvious by the careful way he makes his way across the room, in how he shifts the books spilling across the windowsill, stacking them in a neat pile and creating a place to sit.

"Hanguang-jun?" he says, gesturing to the sill, offering Lan Wangji the spot.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, leaning back against the doorway and crossing his arms neatly across his chest as he watches Wei Ying get ready.

"Do I stick with the regular look?" Wei Ying says, doing a turn in front of Sizhui, who has settled onto the windowsill. "Or do I go fancy? Add another layer? Or, huh, take some layers away, to spice things up?"

Jiang Wanyin had just departed that afternoon, with a final word to Wei Ying about propriety and not doing anything to fuck up the betrothal (Jiang Wanyin's words) before the wedding ceremony.

"It's kind of sweet, when you think about it," Wei Ying had said to Lan Wangji, watching Jiang Wanyin leave. "He's worried about your virtue."

Lan Wangji had not responded. He was fairly certain that was not precisely Jiang Wanyin's concern.

Sizhui shakes his head. "Better not," he says.

"Right, right," Wei Ying says. "I should probably try to keep it civil." He glances in the mirror on the wall, catching Lan Wangji's eye in the reflection and quirking one eyebrow up. "Lan Zhan, lend me a robe? A bit of light blue to offset the dark Yiling Laozu wardrobe?"

"Behave," Lan Wangji says peaceably, refusing to get drawn in to Wei Ying's antics. He studies Wei Ying's robes, which are a simple black on black pattern, but woven through with a hint of deep blue embroidery, tracing over the curves and spirals of the design. "This is appropriate."

"Appropriate." Wei Ying swings around and leans back against the counter underneath the mirror, scattered with his hair ties, combs, red ribbons trailing off it. He crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring Lan Wangji's stance. "Did you hear that, Sizhui? Appropriate. Me."

"Do you not want to be, Wei-qianbei?" Sizhui asks curiously.

"Sizhui! You wound me!" Wei Ying clutches his chest. "It's as though he doesn't even know me, Lan Zhan." He crosses over to the doorway so he can drape himself over Lan Wangji's shoulder.

Lan Wangji does not shake him off.

"But." Sizhui is looking up at them both. "Don't you want to be, just for now? So that Grandmaster will be more sure about accepting you?"

Wei Ying snorts. "Lan Qiren is never going to be sure about accepting me," he says.

"But you wish to marry Hanguang-jun," Sizhui persists.

Wei Ying pauses, still leaning against Lan Wangji in the doorway. "I do," he says, after the briefest of moments.

Sizhui, ever sensitive, catches the moment. A line appears between his eyebrows. He opens his mouth and then closes it, sitting up straighter on the sill.

He's clearly too well-mannered to ask the questions he wants to ask.

"I do." Wei Ying says it more firmly this time, letting his head rest on Lan Wangji's shoulder with a sigh. "It's complicated, Sizhui. Lan Qiren agreed to the dowry." Wei Ying gets a pained look on his face whenever the word "dowry" comes up. "And he agreed to the date, but something tells me he's really hoping something will happen between now and then to shut this thing down."

"That's terrible." Sizhui frowns, the line between his eyebrows getting deeper. "He knows you love each other. Everyone knows. He shouldn't stand in the way of that."

Wei Ying tilts his head to look up at Lan Wangji with a startled grin on his face. "Everyone knows, eh, Lan Zhan?" he says.

Lan Wangji does not respond. Sizhui is not in the business of gossip. He is friends with Jingyi, but he doesn't lend credence to even half of Jingyi's stories. And Sizhui is to be trusted. If everyone thinks—

"I'm glad," Sizhui says stolidly. Lan Wangji does wonder if his assertion of "everyone" can be taken at face value. "I'm glad you're—" He cuts himself off. "I'm just glad."

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying, whose head is still leaning on Lan Wangi's shoulder. Wei Ying's eyebrow goes up and he gives a small shrug before pushing up on his toes and pressing a small kiss to Lan Wangji's cheek. It's so unexpected that Lan Wangji gives a start and pulls back.

"It's okay," Wei Ying says, his mouth still very close to Lan Wangji's. His eyes are dancing. "It is, in fact, only appropriate."

Lan Wangji studies his face for a handful of seconds. He feels himself flushing, his ears going hot as he struggles to regain his equilibrium. "Shameless," he murmurs, finally, for the pleasure of seeing Wei Ying grin.

"Always," Wei Ying responds.

When Lan Wangji turns back to Sizhui, he's watching them with evident interest, though he turns his face away immediately to look out the window, his cheeks scarlet, a happy smile on his face.

The family meal goes about as well as could be expected. "Inappropriate," Uncle huffs when he sees Wei Ying in his most ostentatious robes, scarlet ribbon trailing over his shoulder.

"Thank you," Wei Ying says in response, shooting a pleased look at Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji doesn't respond. There is nothing at all inappropriate about Wei Ying's robes. Uncle would have found something wrong with anything Wei Ying did. The robes were just the thing he focused on first.

Uncle's face turns the color of Wei Ying's ribbon.

Xichen does his best to keep the peace, exuding an aura of calm over the table, making pointed eye contact with their uncle over the teapot.

Wei Ying struggles with silence at the meal—even after all this time, he tries and fails to make it through all the courses without saying a word. "This soup," he murmurs to Lan Wangji under his breath.

It's all he says, but it's enough to make Lan Wangji's mouth quiver into a small smile. The soup is bland even by Lan Wangji's standards, a sad broth with a few small wontons bobbing in it.

Uncle watches their exchange with a thunderous look in his eyes, only the rule of silence keeping him from saying a word.

His uncle, Lan Wangji thinks, follows the rule of silence to the letter, if not the intent. His simmering rage is a background noise throughout the meal.

It doesn't get better with the tea afterwards—although, perhaps it does. Perhaps it's preferable to have some things being said than everything tamped down.

Wei Ying is—however he'd be sad for Lan Wangji to point it out—appropriate throughout. Polite and attentive, still expressing his opinions in the face of Uncle's sour comments, but doing so in a way that could not possibly be misconstrued as rude.

Lan Wangji cannot say as much for his uncle.

After several courses dealing with his uncle's huffs, his glares, and his outright condescension towards the mildest words spoken by Wei Ying, Lan Wangji has had enough.

He has, in fact, had more than enough.

"The latest night hunt," Xichen tries, "turned up an unexpected result."

"What sort?" Wei Ying says with interest. "Was it the one down in the southern region? I heard there were all these drownings and I thought it might turn out to be a ghoul, though such things could also be caused by a shui gui."

Uncle snorts.

Lan Wangji, Xichen, and Wei Ying all ignore him.

"It was, in fact, a ghoul." Xichen studies Wei Ying with interest. "How did you know? That's not a ghoul's usual behavior."

Wei Ying leans forward—there's nearly nothing he likes better than talking ghouls—and says, "It was the fact that no one seemed to have been getting possessed afterwards that caught my attention—"

"Likely," Uncle interrupts, which is shocking enough to get the attention of them, "drawn by your wretched demonic cultivation."

Xichen stares at their uncle, then closes his eyes for longer than a blink.

Lan Wangji is experiencing a dark rumble of pure rage. His uncle has said far worse things about Wei Ying, it's true. But now—

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says, surprised that his voice comes out measured, "is my betrothed."

"Much to our great misfortune," his uncle mutters, just enough under his breath that Lan Wangji could pretend he hadn't heard, should he choose to.

"I beg your pardon?" he says instead. He reaches for the tea pot, noticing with a sort of removed interest that his hands do not shake as he does so, despite the turmoil of rage he's experiencing. He's been angry with his uncle before, just perhaps with not this much fervor. It's an interesting feeling. He pours tea first for Wei Ying, and then himself, after his brother shakes his head as he proffers the tea pot.

"Your betrothed," his uncle says and oh, the words are not remotely polite, "cultivates in an untoward manner."

It's Wei Ying who snorts this time—a small sound, nearly not there. When Lan Wangji raises his eyes towards him, he expects to see a rage matching his own. Instead, Wei Ying looks genuinely bemused.

Wei Ying can be bemused. He's allowed to be bemused, the same way Lan Wangji is allowed to be furious. "And yet," he says softly, his voice sedate, controlled. His fury obvious to anyone who knows him. "And yet he is still my betrothed." He looks at his uncle. "Per your agreement with the Jiang Clan." He raises his teacup, taking a measured sip, watching his uncle over the rim.

His uncle is visibly simmering with rage, as well. In some well deep within Lan Wangji, he thinks that seems like a problem for Uncle to deal with, and none of Lan Wangji's concern. He sets down his teacup and rises, holding out one hand to Wei Ying. "Beloved?" he says.

Wei Ying looks up at him, startled, his own teacup halfway to his mouth. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he sets the cup down with a slight clatter, and slides his hand into Lan Wangji's, allowing himself to be gently pulled to his feet.

"Brother?" Lan Wangji says then, tilting his head at Xichen. "Would you serve as chaperone, as I escort my betrothed to his quarters?"

"I—yes." Xichen hesitates, looking at their uncle before rising. "Of course."

"Of course." Uncle says it through gritted teeth. He really does look quite infuriated. It's an odd thing for Lan Wangji to realize that he doesn't care.

"Thank you for dinner, Uncle." Lan Wanji releases Wei Ying's hand and bows low. Deliberate. Appropriate.

Wei Ying and Xichen do so as well, a beat behind him.

Lan Wangji reaches out his hand again when it's done, taking Wei Ying's firmly. He pivots on one heel and draws Wei Ying out the door, ignoring his uncle, who is quivering with rage, still seated at the head of the table.

Xichen keeps pace with them on the way to Wei Ying's quarters. It's early yet. Dark has fallen during the interminable dinner, but it's early enough that, were they not betrothed, there would be no doubt Wei Ying would follow him back to the Jingshi. There is no doubt that Lan Wangji would have produced a jug of Emperor's Smile for him. There is no doubt that Wei Ying would have sat with him on the steps, sprawled back outrageously, and somehow, in almost no time, eased the tension Lan Wangji is carrying throughout his entire body. It would not have been methodical. It would not have been practiced. It would just have been Wei Ying, being Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji stops on the doorstep to Wei Ying's quarters. His shoulders are so tense they hurt. He tries for a brief second to remember what it feels like to have that tension eased after only a little while alone with Wei Ying. It feels like a very long time since he's had that.

"Sorry," Wei Ying says. He looks over Lan Wangji's shoulder at Xichen, as well. "Sorry," he says again. "That could have gone better."

Lan Wangji presses his lips together for a moment. "It wasn't you," he says. It comes out cold and furious. It's funny—he doesn't feel furious, not really. It's all—tamped down. But it comes out in his voice. He's usually able to control it better than that.

"It was a little bit me," Wei Ying says with a grin. "Isn't it always?"

Wei Ying is the master of his tone. He sounds like he genuinely thinks it's amusing. But there's a tightness around his eyes that makes Lan Wangji's fury against his uncle burn even more brightly.

"He should not have spoken like that," Lan Wangji says.

"No," Xichen supplies. "I apologize, Wei-gongzi. I truly believed he had come to terms with the situation."

"Did you?" Wei Ying asks. His tone is teasing. He looks tired. His red ribbon hangs limply over his shoulder. Lan Wangji wants—

"Wei Ying," he says softly, "is not a situation to be resolved."

Wei Ying looks up at him, startled.

"He's not something Uncle—or anyone—should merely come to terms with."

"Of course," Xichen says after a momentary pause. "Of course, Brother. I much agree. I will speak with Uncle. After all, he has signed the letter. And we have set the date."

Lan Wangji is too tired to continue this conversation with any modicum of appropriate behavior.

"Wei Ying," he says quietly. "I'm sorry you had to endure that."

"It's fine, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying seems quietly astonished. "I've been through many worse meals than that, and those were with my own family." He gives Lan Wangji the wide smile that means he's telling the truth and making it sound like a joke.

Lan Wangji moves forward, takes Wei Ying's hands in his own, and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "And yet," he says softly. "I am still sorry."

When he moves back, both Wei Ying and Xichen are staring at him. He doesn't linger. He pivots and starts back to the Jingshi at an appropriate pace. He keeps his eyes on the middle distance. He keeps one hand curled gently at the small of his back. He's fine.

He sits in the stony quiet of the Jingshi. He leaves the lanterns unlit. He arranges himself on his meditation mat and settles his thoughts. He stays there for a full hour, darkness filling the corners around him, working to calm his mind, body, and spirit.

At the end of the hour, he opens his eyes. He stands and stretches. He contemplates the dim space around him.

He leaves.

Lan Wangji is careful on his way over. He knows how to make glances slide off him. It's a cautious balance to keep in a place full of cultivators, but in the short term, it works.

It's a technique he's learned from Wei Ying.

He has no time to consider before he knocks on the front door. He won't take the chance of hesitating, of being seen. When Wei Ying slides the door open, Lan Wangji steps in without waiting for an invitation.

"Lan Zhan," is all he has the time to say, as Lan Wangji slides the doors shut behind him.

Lan Wangji advances on Wei Ying. "What," Wei Ying manages, stumbling backwards over a pair of boots left sprawled across the floor. "What are we—"

Lan Wangji presses him back against the wall. He has his hands on Wei Ying's hips. He doesn't think he's ever touched Wei Ying's hips before. He gives himself that moment to feel them, to feel Wei YIng's breath coming rapidly against his face, Wei Ying's eyes wide and startled, to remember how warm and soft his skin had been when Lan Wangji had kissed the side of his mouth just an hour before. Only an hour? He feels as though he's been remembering the softness for much longer than that.

Then he kisses him. The same spot at first. He's been yearning for it, he thinks. Wei Ying makes a soft sound as he does it. Then Lan Wangji kisses the soft bow of his lips. It's chaste—as chaste as their kiss in the forest the other day, but it's still more intense, because Lan Wangji can pay attention this time. He was too surprised in the forest to process exactly how it had felt. He's been wondering if he's remembering it correctly.

He both has, and hasn't. Wei Ying's lips are as soft as he remembers, but the way they get softer under his own is either something new, or something he had missed the previous time. He is certain, though, there had been no hitch in Wei Ying's breathing as they had kissed—chastely, so chastely—in the forest.

It was appropriate, Wei Ying had said. That sort of kissing. It was allowed.

Lan Wangji deepens the kiss.

This is—more. Worlds more than the soft, chaste kiss. Wei Ying breathes in sharply through his nose and Lan Wangji tightens his hands on his hips. He opens his mouth a little, tilts his head, and oh, they slot together like they have been made for this.

It's what everyone thinks they do anyway. Why should he be blamed for something he's not even doing?

It's intense. He's trembling. Wei Ying is making small, soft sounds that cut right through Lan Wangji. It's nothing like he'd thought it would be—it's beyond anything his limited imagination could have shown him.

"We can't," Wei Ying whispers against his lips, even as he's got his hand tracing over Lan Wangji's side, long fingers looping around to press against the small of his back, the touch making Lan Wangji groan softly. "This isn't—we can't, you being here, this isn't something they'll overlook, they'll—"

"I'm Hanguang-jun," Lan Wangji says. His voice comes out so rough as to be almost unrecognizable. "I'm above reproach. I was, before this. I am now. No one would believe," he pauses and, feeling bold, presses his mouth against Wei Ying's neck, just below his jawline, where he can see his pulse jumping, just to feel it against his tongue. "No one would believe I'd risk my virtue." He tightens his hands on Wei Ying's hips, and Wei Ying's pulse beats harder against his lips. "Or the integrity of my clan," he says then, pulling back, his eyes still on Wei Ying's neck. He wants to bite Wei Ying there, he realizes—wants to suck at the skin there, wants to hear what noise Wei Ying would make if he were to do so. He wants to do it hard enough that he'll leave a mark. And so he doesn't allow himself that.

Instead, he kisses Wei Ying again. Harder, this time. He presses him against the wall. He finds himself slipping his tongue into Wei Ying's mouth and it is exhilarating. He feels it throughout his entire body when Wei Ying's tongue touches his own, and Wei Ying shudders against him, tilting his head and deepening the kiss.

"Oh," Wei Ying is saying between kisses. "Oh, oh."

Lan Wangji isn't sure how long they kiss for. Long enough that he's breathless and dizzy by the time he lifts his head. Long enough that it takes him more than a moment to gather himself enough to release his hold on Wei Ying. He pulls away and takes a step back, and then another, judiciously.

Wei Ying is slumped against the wall. He looks disheveled. He looks debauched. Lan Wangji likes it, possibly more than he should.

He takes another judicious step back.

"What was that?" Wei Ying sounds breathless, confused. "Were—did someone follow you here? Was that for—this isn't the way to go, Lan Zhan. I know a public fight isn't your favorite thing, but if we do it my way, you get out of this with your honor intact."

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying. His room is lit by lamplight, and it catches his eyes as he looks at Lan Wangji. "No one followed me here," he says.

"Oh. Oh, well, good." Wei Ying reaches up and straightens his topknot, pushing loose hairs out of his face, shaking his robes back into place. "I thought—okay, good." He looks at Lan Wangji, seems on the verge of asking another question.

"I should go." Lan Wangji turns for the door.

"You should," Wei Ying says, then sighs.

Lan Wangji looks back over his shoulder.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Wei Ying says suddenly. "Not hanging out together? I miss it. I miss you."

Lan Wangji is still processing the feel of Wei Ying's lips against his, trying to remember this time exactly how soft they were, to catalogue the moment of his tongue in Wei Ying's mouth. "I miss you too," he says, and leaves.

Lan Wangji is thinking about pinning Wei Ying down. He's thinking about getting him somewhere where he can do so—he's not so bold as to imagine a bed, but perhaps they'd be left alone in a field somewhere, or perhaps in the dining hall after everyone has gone to bed and no one remembered they have been left alone there, unchaperoned...

"The Zhang clan can't possibly be seated next to the Jins. We can't have bloodshed at a Lan wedding." Nie Huaisang peers over his fan at the seating chart laid out on the table in front of Lan Wangji and his brother. Wei Ying had convinced Lan Wangji to ask Xichen to invite Nie Huaisang. He'd insisted that, were he really getting married, he'd need Nie Huaisang there to help plan. "For verisimilitude, Lan Zhan," he'd said. Lan Wangji had reluctantly agreed, and carefully watched Xichen when he had made the request. Xichen had not flinched but there was a flicker in his eyes when he'd said, "Of course."

"Trust me." Nie Huaisang has an eyebrow raised high as he nudges at a seating token with his pinky. "You don't want to risk it. Which wine are you serving?" He looks at Lan Wangji with his eyebrows up, his face curious, like he expects Lan Wangji to actually have an answer to his query.

Lan Wangji just stares at him.

Nie Huaisang's face falls, like Lan Wangji has disappointed him on a deeply personal level. "Wei-xiong? Tell me you have a proprietor. Tell me you have a plan." He shuts his eyes, presses his fan against his lips. "I know you must have a plan."

"I do," Wei Ying says reassuringly. "I do. It's why I asked Zewu-jun to invite you here. We need your help, Nie-xiong. You can see that we need your help." He presses his hand to the table in front of himself beseechingly. "I need your help."

Nie Huaisang shakes his head rapidly several times in a row. "I'm sure I don't know how I could possibly help," he says. "There isn't anything that someone else doesn't know a whole lot better than I ever could." He nudges another seating chart token to a new table, shuddering a little as he glances at the names. "That would be a disaster," he murmurs as an aside. "Besides," he says then, fluttering his fan in front of his face, "who am I, to offer any sort of guidance to the Lan Clan?"

"Still," Xichen says, looking uncomfortable. "Any guidance you might be able to give us would be much appreciated." He's watching Nie Huaisang warily, and Lan Wangji wonders if, after all this time, his brother has explored his feelings about Nie Huaisang any further. He knows Xichen's devotion to Nie Mingjue as well as Jin Guangyao, and the knowledge of what Nie Huaisang had set in motion against Jin Guangyao resulted in endless months of despair throughout Xichen's seclusion. But he also knows that Xichen had made promises to Nie Mingjue, to look after and assist his brother as much as he was able. It's resulted in an uneven and complicated relationship between Xichen and Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji appreciates how much effort his brother is making.

"None, I'm sure," Nie Huaisang says glumly, looking very apologetic. "I'm useless with this sort of thing. I never pay enough attention to sect matters. I honestly have no idea what's going on." He turns to Wei Ying, closing his fan abruptly. "You do know Hsin Huang, the proprietor of fine wines in Caiyi Town?"

Somehow, there's been an agreement brokered that there could be wine at the wedding. Uncle had drawn the line at liquor, but when the dowry negotiations were concluded and the wedding date and location decided, somehow Jiang Wayin had walked away with this concession. In writing. He'd looked smugly proud as he'd told them.

"If you go with anyone else, I will absolutely lose all faith in your ability to continue to survive as a human being," Nie Huaisang says now. "Tell them I sent you. They'll give you a deal. I have no idea why—some family history there, I'm sure, that has nothing to do with me. But do it." He taps his fan against the table, his eyes falling to the seating chart again. He leans forward, gathers up a half-dozen tokens, and redistributes them with alacrity. "His sister runs the best pastry shop within twenty li," he says distractedly. "That's where you should go for the desserts."

Wei Ying is beaming at Nie Huaisang. "You're the best one, Nie-xiong. Zewu-jun, thank you for bringing him here."

Xichen nods, still eyeing Nie Huaisang uneasily.

Nie Huaisang slumps back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning down in what looks like actual upset. "You should never listen to me, Wei-xiong. I just run off at the mouth. I know nothing of sect matters, nothing at all."

"Still," Xichen says, only slightly stilted, "we appreciate you being here."

"Tell me you've invited the Feng family," Nie Huaisang says, in the exact same helpless tone of voice he'd insisted he knew nothing of sect matters. "You will cause an incident if you have not."

"Invites have not yet been sent," Xichen assures him. "We can add them."

Nie Huaisang waves his hands around. "That's all your thing, I don't know anything about it. You must seat them next to the Zhang clan; that's the only way they'll behave."

Lan Wangji's mind is spinning just watching the whole exchange. Nie Huaisang is someone Lan Wangji has been struggling to understand for years. His brother seems similarly bewildered.

"Come on," Wei Ying says. "Where is this wine proprietor you mentioned? We should at least have a tasting."

Nie Huaisang bounces up from the table. "Correct," he says. "Let's go."

"Xichen?" Lan Wangji asks, rising to his feet. Certainly he cannot allow Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang to visit Caiyi Town unaccompanied. They'd almost certainly wreak some sort of havoc.

"Should any alcohol find its way back to Cloud Recesses," Xichen says, seeming to gather himself from his thoughts. "it would surely be for purposes of a wedding toast." He smiles at Lan Wangji indulgently.

"Correct," Wei Ying says, matching the tone in which Nie Huaisang had said the same word. He's standing next to Nie Huaisang, his arm slung around his shoulders. "Obviously."

Xichen's lips curve up into a smile. "Obviously." He pushes himself to his feet, resting his hand on Lan Wangji's shoulder for a moment. "You go with them, Brother," he says. "It's your wedding, as well." At Lan Wangji's concerned expression, he adds, "Nie Huaisang is a sect leader of one of the finest of all families." He looks at Nie Huaisang, his face serious. "He'll serve admirably as chaperone."

"Oh," Nie Huaisang shoots a look at Xichen, then at Wei Ying, and finally at Lan Wangji before he flicks open his fan again and hides his face behind the flutter of it. "Oh, Lan-zongzhu, I'm sure you shouldn't entrust such a task to someone like me."

"You'll be fine." Xichen escorts them all to the door. "I have much to do here and your name is, as I'm sure you well know, above reproach." He pauses, seeming to be working towards convincing himself of that. Nie Huaisang's eyes go wide over the flutter of his fan.

Lan Wangji is fairly certain that, as he follows Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang out the door, Nie Huaisang is murmuring, "Oh no. Oh no, oh no," under his breath behind his fan.

"Listen," Nie Huaisang says, yet again. From Lan Wangji's count, he's up to four times. "Listen, though," he says again. "Do you mean married, married? Or, like. Married?"

Lan Wangji cannot parse any difference between the three times Nie Huaisang has repeated the word married.

"Married-married," Wei Ying says after the barest pause, then turns his gaze towards Lan Wangji. He's lying on Lan Wangji's bed with his head hanging off the edge of it, so it's hard to read his expression, but his eyes are definitely twinkling.

Nie Huaisang's look sharpens, even as he hiccups before taking another sip of wine directly from the bottle.

The proprietor had recognized Nie Huaisang the moment they had entered the establishment at Caiyi Town. He had bowed low, while Nie Huaisang had fluttered his fan and said, "No, no, no, it's only me, it's not a big deal at all."

The proprietor had held his bow, obsequiously, a moment longer, then rose, raising his hand in a smooth gesture and inviting them back behind the curtain at the rear of the establishment. Nie Huaisang had gestured Wei Ying and Lan Wangji forward. "It's just because of sect gatherings," he'd murmured, sounding embarrassed in a genuine way. "It's not anything, but they do have the best stock back here and we should just do as he says."

They had emerged some time later with a hefty order placed for delivery in advance of the wedding date, an even heftier discount that Nie Huaisang had somehow procured for them despite Lan Wangji having seen absolutely no bartering going on between him and the proprietor, and several bottles of wine to bring back with them. "For tasting purposes," the proprietor had said smoothly, pressing several into Nie Huaisang's arms. "For the family," he'd said then, handing several more to Wei Ying. "Surely they want to know what the wedding party has chosen ahead of time."

They'd made their way back to Cloud Recesses with the bottles, despite Lan Wangji's raised eyebrow. "No alcohol is permitted at Cloud Recesses," he'd said, keeping his tone even, despite them having just bought a substantial sum of alcohol to be delivered there. Despite the fact that he indulges Wei Ying by harboring liquor for him on a regular basis.

"For tasting purposes!" Nie Huaisang had protested, hugging the bottles to his chest.

"For the family," Wei Ying had said persuasively, giving Lan Wangji his brightest smile.

Lan Wangji had held their gazes for a moment and then swept off in the direction of Cloud Recesses, leaving them to follow.

With their cache of wine.

They had broken into it immediately after dinner. Xichen was in late meetings with Uncle and, with Nie Huaisang still serving as chaperone, Lan Wangji had ordered food from the kitchen to be delivered to the Jingshi.

Now, Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang each have their own bottle of wine and are well on their way towards their second. Conversation has turned, inevitably, to the impending nuptials.

"Married-married," Lan Wangji echoes, studying Wei Ying's upside down features. It seems to be the truth—they haven't yet figured out a way out of it.

Nie Huaisang hiccups again, studying them. "I can't picture it," he declares.

"What?" Wei Ying swings himself up to sitting and scrambles around so his bare feet are tucked under him as he leans forward. Nie Huaisang is seated at Lan Wangji's desk, working industriously on cracking open and eating peanuts as though he were being paid by the nut. "Why?"

Nie Huaisang looks up at Wei Ying. "Because you're you," he says, blinking at him. "And he's—" He gestures up and down at Lan Wangji. "He's—"

"He is," Wei Ying says. "He really is." He takes another swig out of his bottle, his eyes on Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji is seated at the table as well, on the side near the bed, so he's at a halfway point between Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying, for the sake of being available to intervene should either of them start to topple over from their wine intake.

"Are you really, though?" Nie Huaisang says. "Getting married? I just don't buy it. Have you ever even kissed?"

Lan Wangji bristles at this. Nie Huaisang's tone isn't judgemental or even teasing, but it's still absolutely none of his business.

"Shameless," Lan Wangji murmurs at the same time Wei Ying says, "Yes."

Lan Wangji turns to him, startled.

Wei Ying shrugs, looking slightly abashed. "We have, though," he says softly.

"Mm," Nie Huaisang still looks dubious. "Show me."

There is shameless and then there is shameless. Lan Wangji stares at Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang looks back. "If you can't convince me, how do you expect to convince everyone else?"

Lan Wangji keeps his expression neutral. Has Wei Ying confided in Nie Huaisang about the plan? Has he—but no, Wei Ying looks just as startled as Lan Wangji feels.

"We're betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly to Nie Huaisang. "Officially. I have a dowry. We set a date. We told my brother."

"Great." Nie Huaisang cracks open another peanut and pops it into his mouth. "Show me."

Lan Wangji gets up. This is preposterous. He's going to leave. But—this is his home. They should leave. But they're—clearly, given the turn this evening has taken—drunk. He's standing there by the table, inwardly...seething? Is that the word he'd use for it?

"Wei Ying," he says, indicating that Wei Ying should assess the situation and take his leave.

Wei Ying gets up, pushing himself off the edge of the bed far more easily than he should have been able to, given the amount of wine he has imbibed this evening.

"You don't believe us, Nie-xiong?" Wei Ying asks.

"No, no, I didn't say that." Nie Huaisang fumbles for his fan on the table. "I never said anything like that."

"You did, though," Wei Ying says, sounding indignant again.

Nie Huaisang sighs. "I just said you have to be convincing. Everyone is going to be watching your every move. You can be your usual cold, hard, and handsome self," he gestures with his fan at Lan Wangji, "but people are going to want to see the heat behind everything." He flutters his fan a little. "Otherwise, they're going to think you're doing this just to get out of something."

He appears to clock the look Wei Ying and Lan Wangji shoot each other. "But what do I know?" he says, sounding bored. "You shouldn't listen to me, of all people."

Wei Ying looks at Lan Wangji. "He's right," he says. "We should—I mean, for practice. Obviously we're in love, but—" He fumbles for words a little bit. "But we should—for practice."

Lan Wangji thinks he should put a stop to this. He thinks he should, at least, take a step back. He thinks he should insist that both Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang leave immediately.

But.

"Practice," he says.

"Right." Wei Ying looks determined. "Let's just—hmm, come over here."

It takes Lan Wangji a moment of concentration to make himself move where Wei Ying is guiding him. Which is not, as he'd feared, to the bed, but to sit back down at the table. Wei Ying drops down easily next to him.

They've kissed before. Lan Wangji knows what Wei Ying's mouth feels like. They've kissed suddenly, and they've kissed softly, and they've kissed up against a wall, a memory Lan Wangji keeps chasing as he tries to fall asleep each night.

This feels different. He feels flustered looking at Wei Ying's face, his eyes bright with alcohol. Wei Ying looks nervous, which isn't a look he's seen often on him. His lips pull down at one corner slightly, and he takes a small breath before shifting forward to rest his hands on Lan Wangji's arms. Lan Wangji doesn't startle back but it takes an effort. He's very aware of Nie Huaisang watching them across the table.

"We're getting married," Wei Ying says firmly. "So—" He leans in and he kisses Lan Zhan. It's soft, and his lips are warm, and it's a little bit awkward, since Wei Ying is leaning forward to get to Lan Wangji's lips. Up against the wall had been easier.

Wei Ying pulls away, his eyes still on Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji's face feels very warm, even though that was the barest of kisses.

"That wasn't a betrothed kiss," Nie Huaisang says. "That wasn't even a 'married for so long it's kind of boring' kiss. If you are going to do this, you have to sell it."

Lan Wangji darts a look of annoyance at him. He'd managed to forget Nie Huaisang was there at all for a few moments.

"Ignore him," Wei Ying tells him. "But...okay, he's not wrong. Let's just—hmm." He rearranges how they're sitting, uncrossing his legs and nudging at Lan Wangji to do the same. It's awkward as they shuffle themselves, but when they are settled, their legs are tangled together, and Wei Ying has shifted markedly closer than he'd been before. It feels intimate; it feels like they're exposed. Lan Wangji can feel how hot his cheeks are. He thinks if he looked in a mirror, he'd have two red spots of color burning bright.

"Come here," Wei Ying murmurs, and tilts his head, leaning in. He kisses Lan Wangji and it's—thorough. It's not the hot, wet kissing of the other night but it's nowhere near chaste, either. His mouth is soft and damp and he's kissing Lan Wangji with deliberate intent.

Lan Wangji feels it in his toes. He shivers a little, and tilts his head, trying to meet the kiss with the same sort of intent.

It escalates from there. Something about it just slots together; Wei Ying makes a soft noise in his throat, and the kiss gets deeper, and Lan Wangji can't—he's not, he can't—

He pulls back with difficulty. His hand is somehow tangled in Wei Ying's robes, holding him close. He can't bring himself to let it go.

"Better," Nie Huaisang says.

Lan Wangji shuts his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips together. He could very much do without Nie Huaisang bearing witness.

"Still," Nie Huaisang says then. "You have appropriate, courting kissing—the kind everyone gets away with, right?" He nods like he's answering his own question. "Show me that one."

"We did," Wei Ying protests.

Nie Huaisang waggles his fan in exasperation. "That first kiss was terrible. Try again."

Wei Ying blows out a breath and turns back to Lan Wangji, a determined look on his face. There's no hesitation this time as he leans in and puts one hand softly on the side of Lan Wangji's face (Lan Wangji has to work to control the shiver that races down his spine at the touch). Wei Ying kisses him, then, pressing his lips against Lan Wangji's, keeping his mouth closed, but his lips soft, imbued with the promise of more.

When he pulls back, slowly, Lan Wangji drifts forward after him without even being aware of it, like he's trying to recapture his lips. He takes a breath and sits back up straight.

"That was good," Nie Huaisang says approvingly. "That was a good courting kiss."

"Well, we've done it before," Wei Ying says, huffing again. "And we are, in fact, courting."

"Okay, then, there's the other kind of courting kiss, where it's definitely not quite chaste." Nie Huaisang flutters his fan in front of his face, his lips turning up in a smile. "You nailed that one."

"Thank you," Wei Ying says archly.

"What about the other kind?" Nie Huaisang asks then.

"What kind?" Wei Ying asks, Lan Wangji is almost scared to hear the answer.

"The kind where you're getting so close to the wedding, and you know you're going to be married so, so soon anyway, and maybe it doesn't matter so much anymore," Nie Huaisang says. "You know, being chaste and good and waiting. When it's that close, maybe you don't have to hold back so much anymore."

"It would not be countenanced," Lan Wangji says. His voice comes out stiff and he feels the way he did when he was a teenager, being laughed at for being a stickler for the rules. But of this much he is certain: what Nie Huaisang is talking about is very far outside the concept of adhering to the letter, not the spirit, of the rules.

"Perhaps not," Nie Huaisang says dismissively. "But it happens anyway. We've all seen it. It's expected—even in Cloud Recesses, Hanguang-jun," he adds before Lan Wangji can say anything. "I promise you that."

"He's right," Wei Ying says. "Not that—not that we'll need to do anything like that, in public."

Lan Wangji bites back the response that doing this in front of Nie Huaisang counts as doing it in public.

"But as it gets closer," Wei Ying says it slowly. He's watching Lan Wangji and his expression is—comforting. In that Lan Wangji knows Wei Ying's face better than nearly anyone else's. And he knows that Wei Ying knows him better than anyone else does, better than anyone else ever has.

Even his own brother has never understood Lan Wangji as fully and completely as Wei Ying does.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says softly. "We can stop. We can. I just think that—he's not wrong, people are watching us very, very closely and—" He stops again, looking at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji can see what he's thinking: that if they need to break this off, that if it gets too close and the only thing to stop both their potential marriage, as well as any future potential marriages, might be to be caught in some sort of compromising position—then they should be prepared.

"For practice," Lan Wangji says carefully.

Wei Ying's eyes crinkle with relief. "For practice," he affirms.

"Oh, good," Nie Huaisang breathes. "Okay, then." He levels them with a look. "This is the sort of kiss where you are nearly desperate with desire." He says it like he's telling them a story. "Where you are so close to being married, so close to consummating your ardor, that it's like riding the edge, only all the time."

It should be stranger, more embarrassing, to sit here listening to Nie Huaisang speak of such things. Lan Wangji's ears and cheeks feel hot, but Wei Ying is looking only at him, not at Nie Huaisang. It's easy to get lost in the intensity of Wei Ying's gaze.

"So the kiss needs to show that," Nie Huaisang continues. "It's got to show how close you are to getting lost in it. How you could so easily let that kiss slide into something more, into something you should be waiting for, that you intend to wait for, that you must wait for, but for a moment—for just a moment—it's unbearable to think about enduring one minute more without having what you so ardently desire."

"Wow," Wei Ying says quietly, still not looking away from Lan Wangji.

"I've done a lot of reading," Nie Huaisang says dismissively.

"I can tell." Wei Ying is shifting towards to Lan Wangji, even closer than before. Their legs are still tangled together, and Wei Ying's hand lands, warm and heavy, on Lan Wangji's thigh. He's looking at Lan Wangji and his eyes are both heated and nervous, which somehow serves to make Lan Wangji feel a little less unsettled: they're both not entirely certain here.

He centers himself, thinking about what Nie Huaisang had said. Thinking about that edge of wanting, about being so close to having but not being able to cross that line. Thinking about being close enough to touch, about it being acceptable enough to press chaste, closed-mouthed kisses to your beloved's lips but denied doing anything more. Thinking about everything being so pent-up and wanting and how it would draw you to the very line of what was in any way appropriate because you just needed—you just needed—

He's the one who leans in this time, and captures Wei Ying's mouth in a kiss. He doesn't start chaste—he deepens it right away, pushing his hand up into Wei Ying's hair and tilting his head until they slot together just right. Wei Ying makes a small sound against his mouth when Lan Wangji tightens his hold on Wei Ying's hair, and it runs through Lan Wangji's body in a shot of heat. He makes a fist in Wei Ying's hair and holds on and when Wei Ying makes a whimpering sound against his mouth, Lan Wangji slides his tongue inside.

They've kissed like this before. He knows that. But something about the state of mind he's in, of putting himself in that place of yearning—something about how Wei Ying had looked at him, his eyes so hot and so Wei Ying—it's so much more than the other kisses they have shared.

He's hot with it, lost in it, and no matter how deep it gets, he finds himself wanting more. Wei Ying's hand is still high up on his thigh and his other one is clutching rhythmically at Lan Wangji's shoulder.

It's not enough.

Wei Ying's tongue is in his mouth and he can feel Wei Ying's breath coming hot and fast and it's not enough, it's not nearly enough. He pulls Wei Ying into his lap.

"Oh, fuck," he hears faintly from the direction of Nie Huaisang but then he's lost in the sheer perfection of kissing Wei Ying like this. Like this, Wei Ying's thighs are tight around Lan Wangji's hips and oh, that is causing a surge of heat unlike anything he's ever known to course through every vein in his body. Like this, he can tilt his head back and let Wei Ying take his lips with his own. Wei Ying is pressing his tongue into his mouth again and he's making these small, aching sounds against Lan Wangji's lips and Lan Wangji feels like his blood is aflame.

He brings his hands down to grasp at Wei Ying's hips, the soft fabric of his robes bunching under his hands. He revels in how they feel under his palms, and how easy it is to drag Wei Ying forward from this position, Wei Ying sliding down until he's flush against Lan Wangji. Wei Ying groans against his mouth and Lan Wangji is fairly certain he himself is making some sort of quiet, desperate sound as well, but he can't hear it over the pounding of his own heart.

He releases Wei Ying's mouth, finally, slowing down the kisses, easing back because he has to. He has to. He must. They're not married. They don't intend to follow through on their path to being married. This isn't some step on the way to being married. This is just—

"Wow." It's Nie Huaisang's voice, dimly, behind the background noise of Lan Wangji's heart thundering in his ears. He can't spare the time to even look over at him. Not with Wei Ying's face so close to his. Wei Ying looks dazed, his mouth open, and red, and wet. His hair is mussed and his robes are askew and he's pressed up against Lan Wangji and Lan Wangji can feel how very, very—

"Did you practice that?" Nie Huaisang demands. "You must have. If you didn't, well, then, congratulations, because you are naturals."

"Naturals," Wei Ying says, sounding slightly stunned. He's still doing better than Lan Wangji—he's not actually sure he could form words right now. "Right. Okay. I—"

"You'll have no problem convincing anybody," Nie Huaisang continues, reaching for his bottle of wine and taking a swift swallow, "that you guys are—" He gestures at them with his fan. "I mean, obviously." He flips his fan open, flutters it rapidly in front of his face, his eyes wide and glinting behind it. "I'm overheated and I wasn't even the one being devoured."

"I—" Wei Ying keeps blinking down at Lan Wangji, his face flushed, his eyes blown, pure pupil. "I should—right." He maneuvers himself backwards, easing off of Lan Wangji's lap. Lan Wangji, embarrassingly, doesn't let go of his hips right away, so Wei Ying has to do a sort of wriggle to finish his slightly awkward move back off of Lan Wangji's lap.

It leaves Lan Wangji feeling cold, and exposed, and he's not quite sure what to do with his hands now that he's no longer holding on to Wei Ying. He's vaguely aware of Nie Huaisang in the background, but he can't quite bring himself to stop looking at Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who has eased back into his seat beside Lan Wangji but left their legs half-tangled together, touching more than propriety would allow. Wei Ying is looking at him, eyes wide, color high in his cheeks, even as he reaches for his bottle of wine and brings it to his lips. He takes several swift swallows. When he puts the bottle down and draws his wrist over his lips, wiping away the remains—still looking at Lan Wangji—all Lan Wangji wants to do is lean forward and lick it out of his mouth.

Wei Ying stills, looking at Lan Wangji like he knows exactly what he is thinking about. He looks a bit shaken which again makes Lan Wangji feel better: he's not alone in this.

"Maybe you should practice again," Nie Huaisang suggests, in a casual tone. "Just to be sure you've got it down."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes.

Nie Huaisang is a terrible chaperone.