Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian left Cloud Recesses before Lan Zhan got mad enough to kick him out himself.

He moped around for a time, participating in the occasional night hunt, never anything too impressive. Lan Zhan would have had a fit to see what he did alone, but then again, if Lan Zhan cared so much, he could’ve accompanied him.

As it turned out, Lan Zhan did care so much. He found Wei Wuxian on a hilltop in Gusu, Chenqing held to his lips. Lan Zhan’s steps, so quiet in the grass, so familiar to him and impossible to miss. Lan Zhan said his name, and Wei Wuxian turned around, the smile spreading across his face like the first warm breeze of summer over the glass lakes of Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian flung himself at Lan Zhan, wrapping his arms around his neck, up on his tiptoes, slightly taller this way. He clung to him like a bur until the sun went down, and Lan Zhan’s palms, hot at his waist, burned him up the whole time. Finally, they parted, Wei Wuxian leaving the shoulder of Lan Zhan’s robes damp and salty. Lan Zhan’s placid, content gaze searched his face. He reached up between them and deliberately smoothed a flyaway strand of Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian caught that hand in his own.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. He held their joined hands to his flushed cheek. “My dearest friend.”

For months, the two dear friends travel together. With Zewu-jun returned from seclusion and resuming his rightful place as Chief Cultivator, Lan Zhan’s schedule has opened up and his sect duties have diminished, leaving him free to roam the world at Wei Wuxian’s side. They occasionally meet up with the juniors to assist with particularly tricky night hunts, but for the most part, it remains just the two of them, Wei Wuxian atop Little Apple while Lan Zhan walks in front, holding her reins and urging her forward.

Their night hunts are, for the most part, uneventful. Lan Zhan’s reputation for being where the chaos is was never incorrect, but Wei Wuxian does learn the long way around that “chaos” can exist on a wide spectrum. There are children who wander away from home and into nearby fields, low-power spirits that do little more than scare unwitting passersby, and the occasional trek into the woods surrounding tiny villages that involves taking care of a rabid animal. Cultivation-related or not, Lan Zhan tends to it. And because Lan Zhan tends to it, Wei Wuxian tends to it. He loves to watch Lan Zhan work, no matter the job. He takes every single call for help seriously, and despite Wei Wuxian often having fallen prey to the cultivation world’s love of investigating only the shiniest and most interesting night hunts, he finds room in his heart for the quieter triumphs too. 

In between night hunts, they see incredible sights. Forests of stone pillars that disappear into the mists high above. Pearl Mountains, so named for their unnatural roundness, like the sun dropped out of the sky for a day and landed in front of them. A river that roars through the earth, far beneath their feet. Lan Zhan, with apologies to Little Apple, scoops Wei Wuxian into his arms and leaps across it, landing on the stone platform in the middle, sprayed with a fine mist of river water, while Wei Wuxian laughs and marvels and tugs at Lan Zhan’s sleeve in delight as they stand together near the center of the world. They see aquamarine waterfalls and prairies the color of fire. They see expansive deserts and badlands looped through with light and dark colors like the candies children buy in the night market of every major city, flavored with honey and fruit juices. They see mountains splashed with colors of the rainbow so breathtaking Wei Wuxian actually has to hold onto Lan Zhan’s arm to keep his knees from buckling, laughing ruefully into his shoulder. “Lan Zhan!” he says. “Every single thing we’ve ever argued about! Every single thing anybody has ever argued about! What’s the point!” He looks at Lan Zhan then, before gesturing frantically to the sight in front of them. Lan Zhan looks at him, expression gentle, and warm, and kind, and Wei Wuxian, overwhelmed, cries, “My thoughts exactly!”

To Wei Wuxian’s delight, they stumble onto a shiny and interesting night hunt at last. It involves a lot of bloodshed, a chance for Wei Wuxian to deploy some experimental talismans he’s been working on, and a chance for Lan Zhan to put his swordsmanship on display, which always gives Wei Wuxian a thrill.

What started as a routine hunt on the outskirts of Qishan quickly descends into chaos, ending with Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan back-to-back, surrounded by a circle of roaring, gray-skinned and reptilian dao lao gui in the midst of a thunderous rainstorm. The skies opened up in the gray light of morning and haven’t shut once between then and now, twilight rapidly approaching.

Lan Zhan plays his qin one-handed and holds Bichen in the other, slashing out at any beasts that sneak behind his musical attacks. Wei Wuxian, less protected but more mobile, flings talisman after talisman, crowing with delight when they hit and hissing oaths when they don’t, or, even worse, get weighed down and rendered useless by the rain. He’s been grazed by one of the darts of a female dao lao gui. He can only tell because if it had been one of the males, he would already be dead. Pain is radiating across his shoulder and down his arm, but he fights past it, flinging an incredibly new talisman at an approaching male, watching in delighted awe as it gets thrown so far back into the trees that its yowls of rage echo back to them, even through the storm.

An arm, strong as iron, knocks Wei Wuxian out of the way with ease as Lan Zhan uses Bichen to deflect another dart. He catches Wei Wuxian’s eye and nods, and Wei Wuxian grins. Lan Zhan turns back to his original position, the sound of steel rending flesh sizzling into the air around them. A spurt of dark liquid hits Wei Wuxian in the cheek. He laughs, loudly, and darts out into the fray. Lan Zhan calls his name—he warned him to stay close—but Wei Wuxian is too excited, too desperate for a fight, and he can’t help himself. Lan Zhan has always been able to look after himself in combat. Wei Wuxian has never once worried about that. The problem is his presence almost makes things too easy. It’s been so long since he’s needlessly thrust himself into the center of a good battle, blood singing and heartbeat throbbing at his pulse points. He flings and kicks and rolls through the mud, slides between wide-set demon legs and hurls endless talismans, ignoring the pain in his arm that is rapidly making its way across his chest, creeping up into his neck and down into his stomach. He takes out enough dao lao gui that it would be impressive even for a cultivator with a golden core, braying laughter in the pelting rain, because he is having fun, and he can only feel so bad that their boring noble night hunt has taken such a dramatic turn.

“Lan Zhan!” he bellows with no idea if they’re close enough for his voice to carry. “This is the life! You and me!” A dao lao gui jumps at him, teeth ripping into his arm, and Wei Wuxian slaps a talisman against its head that dissolves it on the spot. Blood stains his dark robes, plastering them to his body. He staggers a bit and slides precariously in the mud before taking out two more. He could be back at Lotus Pier as a child, running afternoon-long sword drills with Jiang Cheng. Those drills always ended with them goofing off and threatening to stab each other, hitting each other with the hilts and leaving hilarious bruises they would show off to the other disciples the next day. He feels like a child, sparkling and bright, even as the world starts to spin around him.

He’s prowling through the trees, searching for another dao lao gui, when he collapses directly into Lan Zhan’s white-clad arms. “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is ragged. Wei Wuxian almost can’t hear him over the storm. Lan Zhan pulls him closer, hastily brushing the hair off his sopping face.

Wei Wuxian blinks up at him. There is something so deliciously human about Lan Zhan in the rain. It makes him seem younger. More accessible. Wei Wuxian strokes his cheek with white, water-soft fingers. “Lan Zhan! What a fight! We should do this more often.”  

“Where is the dart?” Lan Zhan demands. He’s already tugging at Wei Wuxian’s robes, trying to find it himself.

Wei Wuxian giggles. The world moves in waves. “It was just a graze on my shoulder, Lan er-gege! It’ll be fine!”

Shoulder. Lan Zhan rips Wei Wuxian’s robes off. The arm that took the hit is swollen red, the point of impact sunken black. His eyes go wide. “Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan snaps. He picks him up in his arms.

As Wei Wuxian’s consciousness fades, he feels the telltale swoop in his stomach that means Lan Zhan has mounted Bichen and they are going up, up, up. Now that the nausea is setting in, Wei Wuxian turns his face way from Lan Zhan’s chest, terrified of ruining yet another set of his beautiful robes.      

Wei Wuxian wakes to the soft, welcome sounds of Cleansing. He is in a small, warm hut, lying on a bed of straw. Lan Zhan sits in the corner of the room, plucking away. Wei Wuxian is sated and content and his shoulder only hurts a little. When he examines it, he sees a new pink scar, the width of two fingers. He is wearing one of Lan Zhan’s underrobes and has the distinct memory of Lan Zhan ripping his last one apart in the rain. The image is so scandalous he giggles, and the qin quiets as Lan Zhan glances up at him.

Wei Wuxian smiles. “Hi.”

“How do you feel?” Lan Zhan says. He doesn’t look particularly happy.

“Fine!” Wei Wuxian chirps. At Lan Zhan’s deepening frown, he continues, “Seriously, Lan Zhan. My shoulder only hurts a little. I told you it was just a graze.”

“Without a golden core, you are more susceptible to these things,” Lan Zhan reminds him. “You must act with caution.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning wickedly. “You can’t expect us to be cultivation partners and both act with caution all the time? Where’s the balance in that?”

Occasionally, Wei Wuxian can hook Lan Zhan into some playful banter. It delights him every time, and the tips of Lan Zhan’s ears always go red by the end of it, even if his expression remains grave-droll for the entirety of the bit. Today is clearly not one of those occasions, as he shakes his head curtly. “You dying as a result of your own recklessness offers no such balance to our dynamic.”

“That is true, which is why I took great care not to die!” Wei Wuxian grins sunnily. Lan Zhan’s dark eyes are still disapproving as he sweeps away his qin under his palm and stands, striding over to Wei Wuxian’s bedside. He kneels beside him, carefully pulling back the silk underrobe to inspect his wound. As Lan Zhan prods gently at the pinkened flesh, feeding it spiritual energy, Wei Wuxian says, looking around, “Where are we, anyway? Back at the village, I assume?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “The villagers are cleaning up the corpses and recovering what intact darts they can. They are then used in the antidote to the poison of the female dao lao gui, like what you received.”

Wei Wuxian does, indeed, have another memory of Lan Zhan’s wet hands desperately forcing some kind of disgusting concoction down his throat. He says, sheepishly, “I think I may have had a bit of a tantrum when you fed it to me.”

Lan Zhan nods. His mouth quirks, barely. “I am much stronger than you. It was no matter.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Clearly my injuries cannot be so horrible if my dear friend continues to wound me like this!”

Lan Zhan stands, forearm tucked against his lower back. “You will fully recover with a day’s rest. The villagers have offered room and board in exchange for our services.”

Wei Wuxian taps his nose in thought. “I will accept your proposal if you take me to Yueyang after my day of rest and we sup together in celebration of our heroic victory over the evil dao lao gui.”       

“It was not a proposal,” Lan Zhan says.

“Yes, but will you take me?” Wei Wuxian pouts. “Please, Lan Zhan, I am injured. We fought together bravely and we deserve to celebrate! I want to celebrate with you!”

“We will celebrate together,” he confirms, fondly exasperated.

When he turns away, Wei Wuxian reaches out with a grimace and grabs the hem of his robe. “Hey, Lan Zhan! Where are you going without me?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head exactly once. “I am going to help the villagers.” He delicately steps out of Wei Wuxian’s grip. “You are resting.”

Wei Wuxian glances around the sparse hut. “Alone?!” He lies back, draping the back of his hand across his forehead and closing his eyes. “Lan Zhan, you can’t be telling me I’m just supposed to stay here for a full day!”

“That is the definition of rest.”

“But—” He cracks open one eye. Lan Zhan has turned around, watching him dubiously. “All by myself?” he tries again, slipping a reedy plea into his tone.

“I will return to you,” Lan Zhan says, with perhaps more devotion than the situation deserves, as the situation is Wei Wuxian whining about something that doesn’t matter because he is bored. That being said, Wei Wuxian is not a perfect man, and he wedges himself into the opening Lan Zhan has ill-advisedly left him.

“And when we go for supper,” Wei Wuxian says, turning onto his side. He idly twirls an errant strand of hair around his index finger. “You’ll buy me liquor?”

Lan Zhan glances at Wei Wuxian’s finger and then back to his face. “Yes.”

“And… And…” Wei Wuxian desperately tries to conjure up anything else he’s vaguely desired as of late, both to strike while the iron is hot and to keep Lan Zhan here for longer. With his hair looped around his finger, he tugs thoughtfully at it. “Ah!” he says. “Yes, Lan Zhan, my hair ribbon is fraying. Very sad. I need a new one!” At Lan Zhan’s nod, Wei Wuxian says, “Maybe I will even change it up, try something different.” He grins wickedly at Lan Zhan. “Should I have you buy me a comb, Lan Zhan? How shameless would that be?”

Lan Zhan swallows. “Very,” he confirms.

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll think about it. What kind of comb would you buy me, Lan Zhan?”  

Lan Zhan turns on his heel and leaves. Wei Wuxian pouts after him.

In Yueyang, Wei Wuxian buzzes around for much of the afternoon, examining the wares of the merchant stalls but mostly using his browsing as an excuse to ask the vendors where he can find the spiciest food in the city. After the fifth one suggests the same place as the previous four, Wei Wuxian takes them at their word and drags Lan Zhan by the forearm through the rest of the market until night falls and it becomes an appropriate time to start celebrating. When they pass a stall selling combs and other jewelry, Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing. Lan Zhan steams behind him all the way to the inn. When they arrive at the front door, he turns around, tugging Lan Zhan close by the forearm he hasn’t let go of since they arrived. “Lan Zhan,” he chides. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing! Your virtue will remain intact!” He runs a fingertip across Lan Zhan’s chest. Lan Zhan’s arm twitches beneath his hold. “Now, come on. It’s time to buy me some dinner. And you can have some too, if you want.”

Lan Zhan pays for their rooms for the night and then joins him at their table. The inn is in a quiet, tucked away part of the city, with few patrons. Wei Wuxian has eaten in much sketchier places on lesser recommendations, and isn’t worried.

As promised, because Wei Wuxian was mostly good during his full day of rest, Lan Zhan buys him alcohol. It’s been a long few weeks of night-hunting with none readily available, and Wei Wuxian drinks eagerly, perhaps a little too fast, even for him. He’s beaming drunkenly at Lan Zhan before their food even arrives.

On the other side of the tearoom, a couple sits across from each other at a table. Wei Wuxian only pays them any amount of attention because of the occasional wild burst of laughter the woman emits. He glances at Lan Zhan, mouth quirked. “Surely, the man can’t be that funny.” Wei Wuxian sneaks another peek. “Then again, I’m not sure what else he could have going for him, based on that face.” He raises his eyebrows. “Maybe he has a huge—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan chides.

Wei Wuxian smiles sweetly. “I’m just being generous, Lan Zhan. Maybe he just has a really really really big—”

When Lan Zhan doesn’t stop him this time, Wei Wuxian cuts himself off, chagrined. He glances at Lan Zhan, who watches him placidly. “A really really really big what, Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips. “Dick.” A flash of humiliation. His cheeks heat. “I mean. You’re being a dick, Lan Zhan.”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan says, the mirth in his eyes undisguised.

Wei Wuxian pouts. “Why are you so mean to me? Don’t you even love me?”

The amusement drains out of Lan Zhan’s expression. His gaze drops to the table between them. “I am mean to you because we are friends,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Wuxian lets the awkwardness flow over them. He cracks it open with a giggle and says, “Lan Zhan! I know. I’m emotionally manipulating you for fun. Don’t take it so seriously.”

Lan Zhan watches him with such wry scrutiny that Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing. “Or maybe you’re emotionally manipulating me! You, who has my heart in a vise always! Ah, Lan Zhan. You know how to keep a man on his toes.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Ridiculous.”

“You certainly are,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching for his cup, cheeks warm. 

Despite knowing he’s much too drunk already, Wei Wuxian continues to drink. Lan Zhan watches him with a slightly furrowed brow, but says nothing. He does push a few cups of tea toward Wei Wuxian over the course of the night. Wei Wuxian drinks them obediently between jars of mediocre liquor.

The food makes his eyes stream, which he finds delightful. Lan Zhan, who has suffered through many red-tinged dishes at his behest, orders stuffed mushrooms instead. When he offers one to Wei Wuxian, he can’t even taste it.

Once Wei Wuxian has eaten too much, he stands to briefly retreat up to his room to wash his face, and knows immediately that he has made a mistake. He sways dangerously. Lan Zhan is up in an instant, cradling him in his arms. “You should sleep,” Lan Zhan says. “I will escort you upstairs.”

“No!” Wei Wuxian says. He tries to keep it down. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows he’s already made a scene. “Lan Zhan, I don’t want this night to be over just yet. Let me sit with you.”

“You are already sitting with me.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No. Let me sit with you. Beside you.” The couple in the corner have long left, but before they did, Wei Wuxian watched in scandalized delight as the woman whined her way into the man’s lap, obnoxiously stroking his face with her fingers and holding his arms around her waist. It was hilarious, even if Lan Zhan, resident fun-ruiner, had nothing to say about it.

Lan Zhan leads him back around the table, placing Wei Wuxian’s cushion beside his and helping him get settled on it. The moment he sits down, Wei Wuxian clamors into his lap, almost falling over and only stopped by Lan Zhan’s hand at his waist. Into Lan Zhan’s ear, breath hot with alcohol, Wei Wuxian says, “This is okay, right?” He giggles. Once he’s steadied, Lan Zhan removes his hand.

“Yes.”

“Great!” Wei Wuxian says. “I just think this will help because I’m sooo drunk and I need somewhere stable to sit. That’s my thinking, anyway. Do you agree, er-gege?”

Lan Zhan is silent for long enough that Wei Wuxian is about to repeat himself, when he quietly clears his throat and says, “I will catch you if you fall.”

Wei Wuxian taps Lan Zhan’s nose the way he would tap his own when sober. “That’s what I thought! My Hanguang-jun, always so steady. Always keeping me safe from the ills of the world.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, neither moving. Wei Wuxian stares at Lan Zhan’s unfinished plate of mushrooms in a daze, until he realizes, “Lan Zhan! How can you eat if I am in your way?”

“I can’t,” Lan Zhan says.

“That won’t do,” Wei Wuxian says. “But I refuse to move. So…” He leans forward—Lan Zhan puts a hand at his waist again—and grabs the plate of mushrooms and Lan Zhan’s chopsticks. “I will feed you! The perfect solution to our problem.” Though he is fully resituated in Lan Zhan’s lap, there is still a hand at Wei Wuxian’s waist.

With the chopsticks, Wei Wuxian plucks a mushroom off the plate and holds it to Lan Zhan’s mouth. He smiles. “You have to open up, Lan Zhan!”

Slowly, Lan Zhan opens his mouth, eyes on Wei Wuxian the whole time. Wei Wuxian pops the mushroom in, and when Lan Zhan closes his mouth to chew, Wei Wuxian cheerfully taps his lips with the chopsticks. “Good boy! We make an excellent team.”

Lan Zhan chews slowly and methodically, and Wei Wuxian watches the movement of his mouth, entranced, for quite a while before realizing that may be off-putting and lying his head against Lan Zhan’s shoulder instead. Only when he watches the column of Lan Zhan’s throat move to swallow does he sit up again to feed him another mushroom. This time, when he feeds Lan Zhan, he leaves the chopsticks in his mouth for long enough that Lan Zhan’s mouth closes around them. With a sweet grin, Wei Wuxian pulls them out and touches them to his own lips, before placing them on his tongue and sucking thoughtfully.

Lan Zhan stops mid-chew, eyes glued to Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Wei Wuxian places the chopsticks back on the plate. “I just wanted to see if I could taste the mushrooms yet,” he says. “No luck. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to taste anything again.” He places his head back against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, nuzzling at the bolt of his jaw.

Lan Zhan continues to chew, then swallows. Wei Wuxian is getting ready to sit up and feed him again when Lan Zhan takes the plate out of his hand and places it back on the table. While there, he takes a clean linen and begins to dab at Wei Wuxian’s face.

Right. Wei Wuxian had originally stood up to go wash his face of all the spice residue. Lan Zhan tends to him carefully, wiping the dried tear tracks, then gently going over his lips, the shape of a rounded fingertip pressing against Wei Wuxian’s mouth making him squirm.

From somewhere behind them, the sound of a throat clearing. Wei Wuxian is drunk enough that he simply plants his face back into Lan Zhan’s neck and trusts him to deal with this intrusion into their friendly celebration.

“Daozhang,” someone says, exceedingly polite. So politely, in fact, it almost circles around to being an insult.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are closed, but he feels Lan Zhan’s nod. Generally, people in the regions surrounding Cloud Recesses know him on sight and refer to Lan Zhan by title. The further they travel, however, the less likely people are to recognize either of them. The first time they got hit with the generic title, it was like the world had slid out from under Wei Wuxian. Now, he’s more than happy to be a nobody out here, known only by Lan Zhan. Certainly, the Pearl Mountains hadn’t cared that he was once the Yiling Laozu. He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck with a happy sigh. Lan Zhan’s hand returns to his waist, grip tightening protectively.

“How is everything?” the intruder inquires. Wei Wuxian recognizes his voice. It’s the proprietor of the inn. As far as Wei Wuxian knows, he is a perfectly pleasant man. In this moment, he hates him.

“Adequate. Thank you.” Lan Zhan’s voice is cool. Wei Wuxian can feel the vibration of his words in his throat, so close to his own lips.

“Is there anything else you require?” A slight pause. “It can be brought up to your room, if you so choose.”

“Water, please.” Lan Zhan also pauses, significantly. “For the table.”

A very slight sigh. An inhale, with a hint of gumption. “Of course, Daozhang. Right away. You and your wife will not be left wanting.” There’s a hint of wryness in his voice, of teasing. A hint of chastisement, too, but enough plausible deniability not to lose him the business.

Against Lan Zhan’s neck, Wei Wuxian’s closed eyes fly open. When the proprietor leaves, Wei Wuxian pulls back, gaze feral. Lan Zhan’s face is perfectly still, sculpted from marble.

Wei Wuxian finds it in himself to burst out laughing, wriggling deeper into Lan Zhan’s lap. “Could you imagine!” He crows in delight. “Me! Your wife! Lan Zhan, you would kill me within the year! I would annoy you so much! You would have to kill me in self-defence because I would annoy you to death!” He leans further back, hands twined behind Lan Zhan’s neck and Lan Zhan’s grip on his waist—both hands, now, firm and hot and big—are the only things keeping him from sprawling onto the ground. “Husband and wife!” He chortles. He’s quite flushed from the alcohol. “Such good friends and we get mistaken for a married couple! I should hope so many people are as lucky as I am when it comes to the company they keep. Personally, I think more friends should be mistaken for lovers! The world may be a nicer place, then.” He grins dopily at Lan Zhan, who stares back at him with—well, Wei Wuxian is very drunk and can’t quite place the expression on his face.

At his waist, Lan Zhan’s thumb rubs a circle against him, overtop his robes. “Mmm, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, leaning forward again, both palms flat against his chest. When he next glances up, Lan Zhan’s face is close enough to his that their noses almost touch. “You treat me so well, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. His face cracks into a grin. “You treat your little wife so well!”

Lan Zhan’s brow furrows. “Wei Ying,” he says, as if pained. His grip flexes on Wei Wuxian’s waist again, tight enough to make him gasp.  

He looks like he’s going to say something else when the proprietor returns, jug in hand. The hollow sound of him depositing it on their table, with such force that water sloshes over the rim, breaks the strange atmosphere that had settled over them like a fine mist.

“My apologies, Daozhang,” he says, and leaves without offering to clean up the mess.

The lines of Lan Zhan’s body go rigid with annoyance, and then, slowly, ease. He takes a breath and pulls Wei Wuxian properly back into his lap. Wei Wuxian chews on his bottom lip in silence while Lan Zhan dips the linen in the jug before returning to tend to Wei Wuxian’s face, the water a balm on his overheated skin. Wei Wuxian’s brain is still swimming in liquor, but he’s conscious enough to mumble his appreciation. He says into Lan Zhan’s neck, “Lan Zhan, I want to be with you forever.”

There is a moment of silence, and then Lan Zhan says, while he presses the linen to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, “I want this as well.”

Wei Wuxian wakes with a jolt, headache hitting him like a boulder off a cliff. He made it through the night without vomiting, but has to take deep, calming breaths to keep the nausea at bay.

He lies curled on his side, miserable and paralyzed by a cartwheeling stomach. It’s been a long time since he was this hungover. Stupid of him. He used to wear his hangovers like a badge of honor. Now he just feels like an asshole.

He drags himself out of bed sooner than he would prefer, but the least he can do is give Lan Zhan the early start he generally prefers. Unlike Wei Wuxian, he doesn’t like to waste daylight. He drags his fingers through his messy hair, wincing at every knot. It takes him longer than usual to become presentable thanks to the occasional doubling over until the next wave of misery passes. Maybe he should’ve made Lan Zhan buy him a comb after all.

After drinking all the water that Lan Zhan left for him, Wei Wuxian slaps himself in the face a couple of times and exits his room, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked and ponytailed. He raps smartly on Lan Zhan’s door, chirps his name, and lets himself inside without waiting for a reply.

Lan Zhan looks, as ever, immaculate. Like he turned to stone overnight and only rejoined the world of the living moments ago. He sits in the center of the room, meditating, but opens his placid eyes at Wei Wuxian’s intrusion, brow furrowing slightly. Usually, he does Wei Wuxian the courtesy of at least looking neutral the morning after he makes a drunk fool of himself. Sometimes, the corners of his mouth even curve up when they first lay eyes on each other.

Wei Wuxian swallows, smiling past it. He strides forward, draping himself languidly along Lan Zhan’s open windowsill, the morning air crisp and refreshing. He takes a moment to bask in the watery early spring sunlight. Someone must have a garden nearby, because a sweet, floral scent drifts inside. Lan Zhan’s cool gaze follows his movements.

“A beautiful morning, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says. The pitch of his own voice makes him wince. “Shall we get started? On the road to nowhere and everywhere?”

Lan Zhan rests his hands in his lap. “I have a destination in mind.”

“Oh? Did someone send word in the night?”

Lan Zhan stands, practically glowing. “No.”

Wei Wuxian’s grin sputters. “Okay… then where are we going?”

Lan Zhan, always tranquil, is so glazed he looks like he’s been spun into a spider’s web when he says, “I am going to collect my betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “What?”

“I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks again. “What?”

Displeasure flashes through Lan Zhan’s eyes before he reverts back to his icy neutrality. He enunciates every word. “I am betrothed.”

“Sorry, Lan Zhan, I can’t hear you. Every time you open your mouth there’s just this horrible ringing noise in my ears. It almost sounded like you said you were—” He swallows. Laughs, high pitched. “It sounded like you said you were betrothed. To—to someone—someone else.”

Lan Zhan nods once.

Whatever horrible semblance of a grin Wei Wuxian is still wearing freezes dead on his face. “WHAT?!” The speed and pitch with which Wei Wuxian’s protest falls from his lips barely resembles human language.

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “… playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

If Wei Wuxian were walking, he would have stumbled. If he were drinking, he would have choked. “Lan Zhan?” he says quietly.

Suddenly, loud footsteps on the stairs. Moments later, the proprietor appears at the open door to Lan Zhan’s room, chest heaving, staring at them. “Is everything okay?” he gasps out. “There was a noise, unlike anything I’ve heard before. I thought some horrible demon had entered my establishment!” He looks between the two of them. “Is something—is something happening?”

Wei Wuxian clasps his hands behind his back. “Yes,” he says faintly. His head is spinning. “My friend—my dear friend is—” He swallows. “My friend is getting married. He is, apparently, um, betrothed. And I am, apparently, um—no, I mean, I am, definitely—happy for him.” He meets Lan Zhan’s eye, barely. “Congratulations, Lan Zhan,” he means to say, and instead it grates out of his throat, like his voice has been stolen by an impish spirit.

Lan Zhan nods in acknowledgement.

The proprietor appears to be suffering from some kind of neural event. He shakes his head minutely. “Daozhang, you—” He glances at Wei Wuxian, then back to Lan Zhan. “You’re betrothed to…?”

Lan Zhan says nothing. Wei Wuxian manages, weakly, “He’s kind of a private guy.”

The proprietor’s face turns red. “Last night,” he sputters, “you two, in my tearoom, and now—?!”

Wei Wuxian buries his face in his hands. Muffled, he says, “Please don’t remind me.”

Lan Zhan says, “Wei Wuxian’s actions were influenced by alcohol, and indeed inappropriate. They will be addressed.”

The proprietor looks between them one more time. His face hardens. “Daozhang, I respect the work you do, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian squeaks. “Why?”

“The public display of affection was inappropriate enough, that is true. But I run an honest establishment, and I will absolutely not tolerate adultery within these walls.”

That’s enough. Wei Wuxian faints.

He goes down hard. It’s been quite a while since he’s passed out and Lan Zhan hasn’t been there to catch him. For a blissful few heartbeats, the world fades away.

Then, unfortunately, he returns to a world where Lan Zhan is betrothed.

He blinks up at the ceiling. Lan Zhan and the proprietor stand over him.

Lan Zhan asks, with a chilly remove in his voice like he’s annoyed with his antics, “Wei Wuxian. Are you all right?”

The proprietor bends down next to him. Lan Zhan remains standing. Wei Wuxian scrunches his face up to force the tears back into his eyes. Maybe he is dying and this is some strange, horrible, punishment hallucination before his spirit fully leaves this world. Not that he doesn’t deserve that and more, but this does seem surprisingly and specifically cruel.

“I think I’m dying,” he says.

The proprietor’s eyes go wide. Lan Zhan bends at the waist, feels for Wei Wuxian’s meridians. He touches him clinically, like a healer would. After a moment, he says, “No. You are fine.”

Wei Wuxian pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Great,” he says.

The proprietor lets out a sigh of relief as he stands. “Take a moment, if you need it,” he says. “And then please leave and do not return.”

He sweeps out of the room.

Wei Wuxian watches him go, then turns back to Lan Zhan, but he has already straightened up and begun readying himself to leave.

Wei Wuxian’s chest goes tight. “Lan Zhan,” he says from the floor. “Why are you calling me by my courtesy name?”

“‘Once betrothed, it is improper to refer to anyone other than your future spouse, relatives, or children by their birth name,’” Lan Zhan quotes. “With that being the case, please refer to me by my courtesy name as well.”

“A fucking obscure Lan rule, are you fucking kidding me, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan glares at him.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, jaw tight, and says to the ceiling, “Lan Wangji.”

“You congratulated me,” Lan Zhan says. “Did you not mean it?”

Wei Wuxian’s hands tighten into fists and then, slowly, relax. He pulls himself to his feet, brushing off his robes. His ponytail has half fallen out of its ribbon. Normally, Lan Zhan would fix it without him even noticing, let alone asking. Wei Wuxian suspects he might be on his own this time. “Of course I meant it, Lan Zh—Wangji.” He bares his teeth, the closest he can get to a smile. “You just—you really caught me off guard! All this time we’ve been traveling together. How did you even have time to sneak away and—” He clears his throat. “—fall in love, ah? Haha, with a girl, too! I mean—a woman! Haha. Ah.” He scratches the back of his very warm neck. “What’s her name? Who is she, Lan Zhan?”

“Wangji.”

“Sorry. Lan Wangji. Who is she? Are you—did Zewu-jun write you? Are you to marry someone from another clan? Is it a political match?” That would make sense. Not that Wei Wuxian has ever spent much time thinking about it, despite it being a distinct possibility based on Lan Zhan’s standing.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what he expects, but when Lan Zhan says, fondly, “Zhang Xiaolian,” he feels…

“Nothing,” he says, after a minute of wracking his brain. In this, at least, he is sure. “I don’t know that name. Is there even a Zhang clan? They must be one of the smaller ones. What color do they wear? Why would Zewu-jun marry off you to a clan so small I’ve never even heard of them? No offense, Zhang clan. But why?! What do the Lans get in return?!”

Lan Zhan says, “She is not from a clan.”

“Okay… so… what, you were sneaking out every night to fly on Bichen to meet her? Where does she live? We’ve been all over the place! We couldn’t possibly be near her at all times! Where did you meet her? How didn’t I meet her, even once?” Something occurs to him. His eyes go wide. “Have I met her, Lan—Wangji? Have I met her and forgotten her? Surely, if that’s the case, if she isn’t memorable enough after a single meeting, she isn’t worthy of you. I met you once and never forgot you! You should only marry someone like that, Lan Wangji.”  

“You have not met her.”

“Is she pretty?”

Lan Zhan stares at him.

“I’m only asking because as your friend, I have my own standards for who deserves to love you and be loved by you for the rest of your life, and one of those standards is that she has to be prettier than me.” Wei Wuxian remembers how to smile and flashes Lan Zhan his best one. “Which, of course, is a mighty undertaking, indeed. But I’m sure there are a few girls out there who are prettier than me. Not many. But a few. We could probably find them, somewhere. It may take a while, but I believe in us.”

“Wei Wuxian. I apologize if anything I have done has given you the impression that you have a say in who I marry.”

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pouting. “Well. That hurt my feelings, Hanguang-jun. I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Lan Zhan says. “But I am already betrothed. There will be no others.”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course. Why would we go looking for a wife for you when you already have one waiting for you in the wings?”

Lan Zhan nods.

“Right right right right right.” Wei Wuxian taps his nose. “Ah! And you are going to her? Now?”

“Yes.”

“And where is she, again?”

“Northwest.”

“Wow!” Wei Wuxian beams. “I’m also going northwest, what a coincidence!”

“To where?”

“The north, and the west! What about you?”

“There is a village beyond Qinghe—”

“Great, great! Yeah, I’m going that way! Haha, Lan Zhan, this is great. Let’s keep traveling together for now, yeah? I promise you can get rid of me when we get to your betrothed, but I mean, why not stick together while we can? Maybe we’ll even run into a few night hunts along the way, for old time’s sake! That would add on some extra travel time, but I’m sure if your betrothed is worthy at all of you, she will understand that the esteemed Hanguang-jun and his, uh, buddy, are busy assisting the weak.” He shrugs. “And, hey, who’s to say there won’t be some more sights to see on the way? Maybe we’ll camp underneath the stars again like we did that time in Tangxi? Or—or—I think there’s some pretty amazing forests in that direction? Or even a desert, if you go far enough north? Could you imagine all that sand, Lan Zhan? Like a beach, but no water! Yep, that’s the definition of a desert! Or, haha, this is so funny, remember over the winter in the mountains in the north of Baling, when we were fighting the nian? And, um, we got stuck in that icy cave, and I was injured and it was so cold and the dead of night and we were underdressed, but you were still warm because of your whole—your whole core deal—and I wasn’t warm because of my whole—my whole core deal—and I was blue and shivering and you, uh, you said my name and we—well, we—you know—and it’s just like how sometimes in war you need someone to—’cause there’s only so many women to go around, right?—it’s just that sometimes you need to share body heat to stay warm and I mean, I don’t really think about it much, it’s not like we’ll ever need to do it again, haha, I don’t even—I barely even remember it, it’s not that noteworthy a life event, you know? It was just, um, I only brought it up because I was thinking about how cool the mountains were, how fun that night hunt was, even with the cold, and, anyway, I was just thinking how great it would be if we could do a few more before we… you know. Pack it up as cultivation partners.” As he runs out of steam, so does his voice, ending in a rasp like he’s been shouting himself raw for hours straight. He swallows.

Lan Zhan’s expression is… complex. Lots of little ones ripple across the most highly trafficked areas of his face; the corners of his mouth, between his brow, his eyes. Always his eyes, so molten even when the rest of him is ice cold. His mouth opens and for a moment nothing comes out. Then he says, “Wei—Wei Wuxian.” He shakes his head minutely, expression settling into something closer to his usual self, tranquil. “There will be no detours. We will go northwest. You may accompany me, if you wish.”

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and rubs his temples. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll accompany you, Lan—fuck. Again. Sorry. Lan Wangji. Hanguang-jun. My friend.” He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and forces himself to meet Lan Zhan’s—Lan Wangji’s—gaze, cool as a lotus pond in the gray before sunrise. “Yeah, Lan Wangji. Let’s go find your wife, ah?”          

Wei Wuxian is jittery. Not that this is new. But he is very jittery. Moreso than usual. He buzzes around Lan Zhan like a mosquito for hours, waiting to be swatted, but Lan Zhan barely even spares him a glance. Occasionally, he tells Wei Wuxian to stop being ridiculous. Or shameless. And not in the way that used to make him want to do whatever it was that prodded that reaction out of Lan Zhan in the first place again, and harder.

For a while, he natters on about nothing, like the entire world hasn’t toppled over. He spins long tales about what he expects to do now that Lan Wangji has gone and gotten reasonable and found himself a wife. He is quite adept at traveling alone, after all, if being drunk most of the time counts as being adept. Not that he would ever tell Lan Zhan this—although at this point, he probably wouldn’t care even if he did—but he did, in fact, complete more than one night hunt with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. In the end, though, it all worked out. It was all fine. He stumbled over a sleeping shanxiao once in a forest and almost got his face torn off, but it was fine. He fell down the side of the mountain and into a stream and that really sobered him up enough to fight it off.

Eventually, even Wei Wuxian runs out of things to say. He didn’t think it was possible. He sighs and walks beside Lan Zhan in silence, rubbing awkwardly at his elbow and wondering if he’ll be invited to the wedding.

They walk in silence for hours across green rolling hills. It’s a balmy spring day, perfect for travel, with a slight hint of mist in the air. It’ll undoubtedly be a romantic night, rain falling soft on the roof of their tent while Lan Zhan brushes out Wei Wuxian’s hair like he always insists on doing when it’s especially messy.

And then, Wei Wuxian realizes, he won’t. Whenever the last time Lan Zhan brushed out his hair was, that’s exactly what it was: the last time.

“Aha! Lan Zhan!” he cries out. His voice sounds a little strangled.

“Wangji.”

“Wangji!”

“Lan. Wangji.”

“Hanguang-jun!” he settles on. “I just realized how many things I’m going to have to do on my own again!” He puts a hand theatrically to his chin. “Make my own food! Brush my own hair! Pull my own donkey’s reins! Oh, Hanguang-jun, would you really leave me to my own devices like that? How cruel!”

Lan Zhan says, “You are perfectly self sufficient, Wei Wuxian. You can take care of yourself.”

Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly. “I know,” he says. He blinks again. He wrenches it back. “But I’m lazy and don’t want to!”

“You will learn.”

Wei Wuxian feels like a child tripping alongside an adult as it tries to keep up with impossibly long strides, despite the sliver of difference in their heights. Casting his mind around, he says, slowly, “Hey, Lan Wangji…”

“Mm.”

“You’ve given me an idea. You know I have servant’s blood in me. Do you and your new wife want a servant? I could be your servant! What better way to learn how to be self-sufficient than making sure someone else doesn’t have to be! I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll tend to your every need. I’ll even warm your bed at night! Uh,” he coughs. “Your marriage bed, that is. For you and your wife.”

Lan Zhan casts a neutral gaze at him. “You are not very warm.”

“Wh— Hanguang-jun? Was that a joke?” Wei Wuxian feels like he’s going to cry. From delight, surely. He loves when Lan Zhan makes jokes.  

“I was stating the truth. Stop being ridiculous.”

Wei Wuxian keeps stumbling after him. “Whatever you want,” he says demurely. “Sounds like a servant to me! Hanguang-jun, I want you to have me! I think my wedding gift to you should be me.”

“No,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Wuxian pinches the bridge of his nose. “No! Yeah! That would be crazy. Haha. Would it? I mean, it totally would. Wow, my back hurts! Lan Wangji, can you give me a lift? Just onto Little Apple. I’m so old, really.”

“Self sufficiency,” Lan Zhan reminds him.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Wei Wuxian says. “Couldn’t agree more. But why not once more for the road, huh? For old time’s sake!”

Lan Zhan ignores him.

“It’s just that I think you’ll get flabby if you don’t haul me around like a sack of flour sometimes. Sometimes, I think you like hauling me around like a sack of flour. I don’t know if it’s a power trip thing or what.”

“Shameless.”

“Aiya. Please. You wanna be flabby for your pretty wife? Put me on Little Apple. Work your muscles. I’ll be your practice wife until we can get you to your real one.”

Lan Zhan glares at him.

“Ah!” Wei Wuxian feels feverish. “Above the waist, only! Promise!”

Lan Zhan shakes his head as he wraps his hands around Wei Wuxian’s waist and lifts, more likely out of annoyance than anything involving genuine sentiment.

Delight and disquiet rip-roar through him as he dangles in the air. Overcome, he wraps his arms and legs around Lan Zhan’s immediately rock-hard torso. “Ah, Lan Zhan!” He cries into Lan Zhan’s neck. “Sorry, Lan Wangji, I know! I know! I hope this marriage makes you as happy as you deserve! Don’t let me joking around ruin a good thing. I’m just playing, I promise. I’m just teasing. You are going to look so handsome in your wedding robes, I’ll probably cry all day.”

He pulls back, carefully at first lest Lan Zhan drop him in an unceremonious heap on the ground. But Lan Zhan is holding him securely, watching him with a slightly furrowed brow and slightly parted lips. Wei Wuxian puts one palm to his cheek. “Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan. Thank you for being with me through it all.” He blinks. A tear falls. “What friends we are, hm? Now. Now, dearest Lan Zhan, I promise as soon as you stop touching me I’ll be perfectly polite and call you by your courtesy name, as is befitting Lan Clan rule number whatever.”

Lan Zhan does not put him down.

Wei Wuxian smiles. He awkwardly pats Lan Zhan’s hand where it holds him at his lower back. “Let me down, Lan Zhan. I was just playing again. I can climb on Little Apple myself.”

Lan Zhan takes two steps forward, untangles Wei Wuxian from around his torso, and deposits him gently onto Little Apple. She huffs loudly.

Wei Wuxian says, softly, “Oh.”

Lan Zhan takes two steps backward, and nods. “We shall continue,” he says, face blank.

When he turns around, Little Apple’s reins in hand, Wei Wuxian buries his face in his palms.

Because it worked out so well last time, Wei Wuxian gets drunk at dinner. He’s had a couple days of travel to sit with the news, and a couple nights of being banished to his own tent to really marinate in it.

The conclusion he has drawn is that he is so happy for Lan Zhan it makes him cry. And drink. In celebration. Of his marriage. For every mouthful of rice, there are three swigs of wine. To this point, Lan Zhan has—begrudgingly—continued to pay for his meals. Which is incredibly good news for Wei Wuxian, who has hardly once thought about money since he came back from the dead. Lan Zhan has always been there, steady at his back, sizeable coin pouch in hand.

It is also good news because otherwise, Wei Wuxian would have no money for alcohol with which to celebratorily toast Lan Zhan and his new bride.

“To you and—aha, ah! Lan Wangji. Your bride’s name. I forgot it! I’m so sorry.” He takes a drink.

“Zhang Xiaolian.”

“Right right. Of course. Lan Wangji and Zhang Xiaolian. How good your names sound together!”

Lan Zhan takes a graceful bite of steamed carrot.

Wei Wuxian says, “Haha, Lan Zhan. “Guess I should get a wife, too, huh? If you’re going to be so busy with your own from now on and leave me all alone.”

“Wangji. It would be proper for a man your age.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Wei Wuxian says, waving his chopsticks around as he speaks. Lan Zhan’s gaze follows them, eyes slightly narrowed. When Wei Wuxian realizes, he smiles apologetically and stills his hand. “Since you’re an expert, you wanna give me some tips? Where do I, ah, find a wife? On the street? At a merchant’s stall? A stall full of wives…” He muses. “That would make my quest much easier, actually! I could just go and browse at my leisure and pick the prettiest one! Or the one with the worst sense of humor, because I wouldn’t want her to be funnier than me. Or maybe the one with the best? I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to think about it! I’ve never really thought in great detail about what kind of woman I would marry. And then we’ll… get a home together? And have a kid? Or two or three?” He taps his chin. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right. We’ll do that. Me and my wife. Hey, maybe we can live in Caiyi or Gusu? We’ll come visit you guys all the time. It’ll be like, uh, we’re going on a date together! I mean—like, you and your wife and me and my wife!” Wei Wuxian smiles and stabs his rice with his chopsticks. “It’ll be great!”    

Lan Zhan takes a serene sip of tea. “There is no wife stall.”

“Aw,” Wei Wuxian says. He puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin glumly in his palm. “Guess I’m out of luck, then.”

“There are many women in the world,” Lan Zhan says.

“I know that, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian simpers. “I am simply saying that going to the market would be easier, since in real life I’m too flirtatious with them. I’m so well known for my ways with fair maidens that I’m not sure I’d be able to convince any of them to marry me.”

“I haven’t heard that,” Lan Zhan says.

“Then I guess you haven’t been listening hard enough.”

Lan Zhan eats another carrot.

Wei Wuxian says, “I’m sure there’s a maiden out there for me, huh? I’m sure there’s at least one woman out there who would marry me. I just have to find her. I just have to find. A woman. To be married to. I mean, to marry.” For a moment, he swims in the soup of his own inebriation. Then, he beams at Lan Zhan. “You will be such a good husband! To your. To your.” He takes another long swig and raises his jar of liquor. “To your wife, Lan Zhan! To you and… oh no.”

“Zhang Xiaolian.”

“Zhang Xiaolian! I’m sure she’s very pretty. Whoever and wherever she is.”

“My betrothed. In a village to the northwest.”

Wei Wuxian gulps down alcohol until his throat burns, and then keeps going until he finishes the jar. When he’s done, he leans back onto his elbows and says to the ceiling, “Lan Zhan, you would not believe how badly I want to crawl into your lap right now and curl up there like a little woodland creature while you pet me.”

Somehow, he can hear Lan Zhan blinking at him from across the table. After a moment, he says, “That would be inappropriate.”

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says. “That’s why I’m telling you instead of doing it.” He sighs. “Haha, Lan Zhan. Remember the mountain in Baling?”

“Mn.”

“Ha,” Wei Wuxian says. He throws an arm over his eyes and continues to laugh. “Talk about inappropriate!”

“That was to ensure your survival,” Lan Zhan says tonelessly. “There was nothing inappropriate about it. You sitting in my lap is ridiculous play.”

Wei Wuxian pouts. “I’ll give you ‘play’. But ‘ridiculous’?”

“And shameless.”

“Aiya.” Wei Wuxian waves him off. He flicks his head down, so he’s meeting Lan Zhan’s gaze. His face swims. “You have a good lap, Lan Zhan. It’s important to me that you know that. I just hope your wife appreciates it.”

Wei Wuxian nurses yet another shitty hangover. They continue to head northwest. He’s spent the day thinking about the wife he’s going to set out to find after saying his farewells to Lan Zhan and his betrothed, whose name he still can’t hold onto.

Women do tend to like him, initially. He can do a quick flirt on the go without a thought. However, the idea of having to keep a faceless, nameless woman entertained for the rest of his life fills him with dread. Wei Wuxian can talk about anything, but what would he talk about with her? Would she want to hear him say whatever comes to his mind? Would she want to kiss him every morning? Would she want to have sex every night? 

He’s cared for women in his life. He’s known women in his life. Perhaps not a ton. He’s certainly flirted with more women than he’s known. His face has done a lot of the heavy lifting, but he’s managed a sweet comment or two in his time. The maidens always giggle and bow their heads and blow him kisses and he has always caught them and pressed them to his cheek, which in turn pinkened theirs. If this ever happened when he was with Lan Zhan, he would simply turn to him, grinning big, and press the caught kiss to his cheek instead. The girls loved it, especially since most of them were too afraid to directly flirt with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan would only shake his head in admonishment, ears tinged pink. Wei Wuxian always asks him, “Lan Zhan, why don’t women ever flirt with you? You’re so handsome!” The only answer Wei Wuxian ever received, if any, was a curt shake of the head.  

Who could’ve known this whole time that his heart belonged to someone else?

Wei Wuxian stays up late, tending to their fire. Lan Zhan retired at his usual time with a polite nod, and disappeared into his tent. He looks at his own, sad little tent nearby. The day Lan Zhan had announced his marriage, they had picked up a second one. Anything else was inappropriate, of course.

It actually was a bit of a shock, even in the warming spring nights, to lose Lan Zhan’s body heat. Even after all this time, Wei Wuxian still runs cold without a core. Now, he prefers to be awake by the fire instead of half-asleep and chilled to the bone. He pokes restlessly at it with a stick and it pops and crackles back at him in response.   

The mountain cave in Baling had been too cold for a fire, which Wei Wuxian had thought impossible. Their talismans burned up in moments, eaten by the chill. Lan Zhan had been low on spiritual energy after using most of it to haul Wei Wuxian up the side of the mountain, above the cloud line.

Still, the herd of nian had followed, their horrifying claws piercing the icy side of the mountain as easily as Lan Zhan rose on Bichen, and almost as quickly. Their roars followed them for hours.

Finally, they got situated in the cave, at the top of the world. The only light was from the mouth, many twists and turns back, as Lan Zhan dragged Wei Wuxian to relative safety. He had spelled the entrance to the cave shut, and it would hold for the night, at least.

Wei Wuxian had been slashed, fairly badly, by one of the nian during their original fight in the forest at the base of the mountain. That one, at least, he had been able to finish off after it tried to slice open his belly.

Lan Zhan, suddenly on his own against a slowly tightening circle of enemies and largely outnumbered, had gathered Wei Wuxian in his arms and fled. He bled all the way through the forest, and then all the way up the mountainside until the air got cold enough and his wound clotted. He spit up a bit of blood as they went, for good measure. Lan Zhan held him closer and put a hand on his cheek. He had said, “Wei Ying. Please.”

In the cave, Wei Wuxian had stopped bleeding thanks to the cold. Lan Zhan fed him spiritual energy against his will, but he had so little left there wasn’t much he could do. Wei Wuxian leaned against the freezing rock wall of the cave and Lan Zhan sat beside him. Again, Lan Zhan said, “Wei Ying.” Outside, a nian roared. It echoed around the mountain and into the cave like a lightning strike.  

Wei Wuxian said, “Oh, this is pathetic. Like we’re teenagers, again, Lan Zhan. Fighting a giant tortoise. Nothing ever really changes, does it?”

Lan Zhan stared at him, close enough to touch. Close enough that Wei Wuxian could feel the heat emanating off him. They had dressed for the base of the mountain, not the top of it. Wei Wuxian shivered. Lan Zhan watched him with a furrowed brow and disquiet in his eyes. “Things change,” he said, so significantly that Wei Wuxian’s body rallied mightily and offered him a surge of heat in his cheeks.

“Well,” he said around his teeth starting to chatter. “That’s good! I guess. Hopefully that means we get out of here before we freeze to death.”

“I will not freeze,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian laughed at that and pulled his robes tighter around himself. “I’m very glad to hear that. The noble Hanguang-jun will not die in a no-name mountain cave surrounded by nian and beside the Yiling Laozu! What would people say! The scandal! The shame to your sect, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan’s gaze was molten when he said, “Wei Ying. Stop.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Relax, Lan Zhan. I’m just teasing. Mostly.”

“Conserve your energy by no longer speaking.”

“That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told me to shut up!”

They sat. The nian prowled. The sky darkened. Wei Wuxian turned blue.

“Lan Zhan,” he stuttered with frozen lips, later. “Haha, Lan Zh—Zhan, I just want you to know how m—much I’ve enjoyed our time t—t—traveling together. Haha. Oh, it’s chilly in here, huh. I had forgotten.”

Lan Zhan moved closer. He held Wei Wuxian by the shoulder and pressed a finger to his forehead, almost touching. Sluggish almost-heat coursed through Wei Wuxian and he sighed, and then protested, “Lan Zhan, stop! There’s no way your spiritual energy has regenerated yet! Hey, stop!”

Lan Zhan did not stop, so Wei Wuxian knocked his arm away. It was difficult. He was breathing hard.

Lan Zhan frowned at him, then wordlessly shoved him back against the cave wall, holding him down no matter how much he squirmed. He continued to feed him spiritual energy, and the slow return of feeling to his limbs felt so good and hurt so much Wei Wuxian had to bite his lip to stop from groaning. “Seriously, Lan Zhan,” he begged, “please, please, I feel better, okay? Just—” He shifted awkwardly. Lan Zhan was merciless, his hold on Wei Wuxian’s chest unrelenting. “Lan Zhan! My wound is bleeding again.”

He would have said it anyway to get Lan Zhan to let go of him, but in this case, it did happen to be true. It was slow, sagging like not-quite-melted butter under a warm dish.

Lan Zhan dressed the wound with a strip of cloth from his bag. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand and placed it over the bandage. “Pressure,” he said.

Wei Wuxian pressed.

Silence, again.

When the cold threatened to creep in at the edges once more and Wei Wuxian shivered, Lan Zhan, already looking at him, narrowed his eyes. “Wei Ying.”

“What!” Wei Wuxian said. “Like I can help it! Are the nian gone yet? Stupid cat-things. I hate them.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “I can still sense them. They are hungry. They smell blood.”

“Great,” Wei Wuxian said.

“They will leave. Eventually.”

“Great,” Wei Wuxian said.

The next time his teeth chattered, Lan Zhan said, deliberately, “I am going to hold you.”

“What?!” Wei Wuxian blurted as he was being manhandled into the circle of Lan Zhan’s arms. He squeaked in protest. When he tried to fight Lan Zhan off, he only tightened his grip.

“Wei Ying,” he said, breath hot against Wei Wuxian’s ear. He shivered, and not with cold. “I am warm. I will warm you.”

“Actually,” Wei Wuxian said, voice breathy, “you can let me go. I’ll be fine. I think my golden core regenerated in the past ten seconds.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said serenely. He firmly rubbed his palms up and down Wei Wuxian’s arms. He maneuvered Wei Wuxian so that Wei Wuxian’s back was pressed against his—admittedly pretty warm—torso.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian said, an octave higher than normal. “We did not solve our problem in Dusk Creek Mountain like this, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan’s hand, trailing warmth wherever it went, landed at Wei Wuxian’s hip. Lips so close to his skin he could feel them brush the short hairs at the nape of his neck, Lan Zhan murmured, “Things change.”

“Hm!” Wei Wuxian said again, voice jumping another octave. He didn’t move. He was afraid to move. “Um, Lan Zhan—” he started, but Lan Zhan tightened his grip and— Wei Wuxian’s pulse jumped in his throat. He jolted and tried, once more, to scrabble away. He was unsuccessful. “Lan Zhan! Did you just bite my ear?!” His free hand formed itself into a fist at his side. Warmth crowded under his jaw, stifling.  

“Be quiet,” Lan Zhan reminded him. “Tuck your legs in. Do not argue.”

Wei Wuxian indeed thought about arguing, swallowed past it, and tucked his legs in. Lan Zhan crossed his legs around Wei Wuxian’s hips, hooking his knees around Wei Wuxian’s, fully bracketing him on all sides now. The fit wasn’t perfect, with their floor-length robes and minimal height difference and Wei Wuxian’s longer legs, but that didn’t deter Lan Zhan. He simply adjusted them until it worked, arms wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s middle, searing hot mouth almost—almost—pressed to Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

Wei Wuxian was speechless. Wei Wuxian also was, to his great horror—and despite being badly injured and freezing to death in a mountain cave—half-hard.

“Uh—” he said, and then immediately stopped, for fear of Lan Zhan biting him again. Lan Zhan was very hot at his center, where Wei Wuxian sat tucked up against the V of his legs. It made him feel insane, his brain scrambled. He bit his lip and breathed deeply, before saying, all in one breath, “Lan Zhan don’t bite me again please I just want to say something.”

Lan Zhan was silent and also didn’t bite him. Wei Wuxian took that as a good sign.

He said, aiming for casual, “Are we going to stay like this all night?”

“If the situation permits.”

“That’s really nice of you and all, Lan Zhan, but I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

Lan Zhan said nothing.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to explain that that his body was very confused at the moment and full of adrenaline and was manifesting that as an erection, so he said, instead, “My legs will cramp up.”

“I will tend to them. You need to stay warm.”

“Hah,” Wei Wuxian said weakly. “Lan Zhan, my friend, this is—” He cast around somewhere in his mind for the words. Usually he had so many. “Lan Zhan. This is not usually how two men spend a night in a cave together. You may remember this from the last night we spent together in a cave.”

Lan Zhan, always still, went stiller at his back. “You’re uncomfortable.”

Wei Wuxian took stock of his body. Cold feet. Hot line all the way up his back. Pink face. Chest desperately trying not to heave. Horrible, traitorous erection in his lap. Hands awkwardly hovering over it, unsure if covering it up would only draw attention to it. “That’s a word that accurately describes my situation,” he choked out.     

“You need heat,” Lan Zhan said.

“Mhm,” Wei Wuxian agreed, pained. He tested Lan Zhan’s grip. It remained very tight. “Can I just—if we’re gonna be sitting here a while, I have to adjust my position, okay?”

Lan Zhan’s arms loosened a fraction. Immediately, Wei Wuxian drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his calves. “There.”

Dubiously, Lan Zhan said, “Your injury?”

Wei Wuxian had forgotten that not long ago, he had been bleeding out. He supposed it hurt. Not near as much as trying to explain to his closest friend and cultivation partner why he had an erection while wrapped up in his arms, at least. “It’s fine.”

Lan Zhan resumed his iron grip. Being tightly held by Lan Zhan—they had never done anything like this before. A once in a lifetime event. By morning, they’d be laughing about it. Well, Wei Wuxian would. Loudly. Brashly. No matter how much Lan Zhan admonished him. By tomorrow afternoon, he would have forgotten about it completely.

That thought more than anything soothed him, and he relaxed in Lan Zhan’s arms. Lan Zhan, for a friend, was certainly more comfortable a pillow than a cave rock. Wei Wuxian leaned his head against Lan Zhan’s chest. “Lan Zhan,” he said. “Even though I’m being a brat about it, you’re probably saving my life by doing this. There is no better cultivation partner. I’m sorry you have to be in such a compromising position because of me.”

Lan Zhan said, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. “But I guess that’s the story of our friendship, hm? Lan Zhan has to defend the terrible Yiling Laozu in the eyes of the world. And you do it every time without fault. You really are too good.”

Lan Zhan said, very quietly, “Mn.” He pulled Wei Wuxian tighter against him. “My spiritual energy should be restored in the morning. From this vantage point, I will be able to defeat the nian, using the cave mouth as a bottleneck.”

“Very smart, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian cooed against his collarbone. “An excellent idea.” He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek more firmly into Lan Zhan’s chest.

Lan Zhan said against his hair, “Go to sleep, Wei Ying.”

 Wei Wuxian nodded. Tucked up and in by Lan Zhan, he sought out the gray quiet of unconsciousness.

The fire has died down somewhat, only half as high as it was before Wei Wuxian, flushed and feverish, pressed the heel of his palm to the front of his trousers, kneading. He didn’t last long there before lying flat on his back directly in the dirt—in the days before Lan Zhan was betrothed, he would admonish Wei Wuxian for being careless and getting detritus in his hair before reaching into his bag to pull out a comb, amused glint in his eye that would immediately shutter if Wei Wuxian called him on it—and slipping a hand under the silk, wrapping his palm around his cock and thumbing at the precome beading at the head. He licks his lips, closes his eyes because the idea of staring at the stars while he jerks off is too pathetically insignificant, even for him.

He strokes himself dirty and rough, misses a line of heat at his back, and arches into his own hand. One day, his wife will do this for him. His repertoire for such an activity is sorely lacking, but he tries to call a picture to mind anyway. A sweet, heart-shaped face. Narrow shoulders. Small, well-groomed hands that work away diligently at him. He will love it, probably. Certainly, powerful men have destroyed entire lands over the pleasure of women and sex. Wei Wuxian imagines ever feeling so strongly about such a thing. That must come with marriage, though. With a betrothed.

He pictures Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, glowing ethereally under even the wateriest of winter sunlight. Lan Zhan, pale and corded muscle and lines so strong they should be drawn in ink. Lan Zhan, with his wife. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have the brainpower to pull another image. He can only borrow his own imaginary wife for the role of Lan Zhan’s betrothed. As he keens into his palm, he sees Lan Zhan kissing her, big hand on her face, sweeping back to fondle the red hair ribbon that’s fallen over her shoulder. He watches Lan Zhan kiss her neck—she sighs into it; Wei Wuxian sighs along with her—and shove her up against the nearest vertical surface. He ravishes her, leaving marks on her neck and her chest and tugging at her long, black ponytail. Lan Zhan parts her dark robes, just barely, and sneaks a hand under them.

Wei Wuxian runs a callused thumb over his own nipple, breath coming hard out his nose. He times his ministrations, flicking at his nipple every time he’s just started on a new downstroke, wishes he had a third hand to grab his hair and pull. He’ll have to let his wife know, when she’s not busy being railed by Lan Zhan, that he likes having his hair pulled. He thinks he would, anyway. Not that anyone has ever done it but himself.

Lan Zhan’s hand, still under her robe, drifts lower. Wei Wuxian swallows. His trails his own hand on his chest down, past where his other hand still works—dry-wet, he doesn’t care, he’s never been too picky—and stops at his upper thigh, fingertips curling slightly into the downy hair there.

Lan Zhan pulls his wife away from the wall, only to push her back against it, hard. She moans, the good kind, the interested kind. Is his future wife going to want Wei Wuxian to push her around like that? To shove her up against things and ravish her? He could do that. He would most likely be bigger and stronger, and it would probably feel weird to shove a woman around in the context of anything other than a night hunt where she’s actually some kind of horrible spirit in disguise, but if she wants it, Wei Wuxian would do it. He’ll be a devoted husband to his imaginary wife who is currently getting fingered by his cultivation partner.

Where his fingers rest against his thigh, he goes lower. Inner thigh, drawing circles, he shivers, then higher, then further back, and—it takes him just a moment to find it—pulling the pad of his index finger across a tight furl of muscle that makes his vision briefly white out. He says, out loud, “Ah,” and doesn’t think any longer about his imaginary wife when he presses his finger inside himself, up to the first knuckle.

It hurts, and even as it hurts, and drags, he comes. His whole body jerks with it and he makes noises that he registers somewhere very far away in his brain as hideously embarrassing and much too loud, but all he can do is ride the wave all the way to its sticky, gruesome end.

In this case, the sticky, gruesome end being him shivering alone in the night by the remains of a fire, covered in dirt and semen, and thrumming with the need to be held.      

As they walk through a wide-open yellow field, toward stark white mountains on the horizon, Wei Wuxian says, “Lan Wangji.”

Lan Zhan stops and turns slightly, head canted towards him, listening.

“You really think I can find someone to spend my life with? You really think there’s someone out there for me?”

Lan Zhan’s dark gaze meets his. Since leaving Cloud Recesses, he doesn’t wear his hair quite so severely anymore, and only one elaborate hairpiece, if any at all. Seeing him all at once, as if from the outside looking in—Wei Wuxian hadn’t realized how much they’ve unspooled in each other’s presence over these past months. He purses his lips and swallows while he waits for Lan Zhan’s answer.

Lan Zhan only nods.

Wei Wuxian drops his head forward. “Haha. People really can’t stand me, you know? And all the ones that could are either long dead, far away from here, or you.”

Lan Zhan says, slow, like he’s underwater, “We are friends, Wei Wuxian, and will always be such.”

Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly. “Yeah, Lan Zhan,” he says. His eyes are hot and itchy. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Lan Zhan opens his mouth like he’s going to correct his improper name usage, then thinks better of it, closes it, and nods.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Uh, you go ahead. I’m gonna hop on Little Apple for a bit.”

Without another word, Lan Zhan departs.

They are well past the border of Qinghe. Wei Wuxian glares at the mountains ahead of them with narrowed eyes. Somewhere beyond them, Lan Zhan’s betrothed waits. 

Usually, Wei Wuxian loves to explore unfamiliar cities with Lan Zhan. He is interested in the people, the sights, the sounds, and especially the smells, if they promise exciting and exotic food. The routine they have fallen into since they started traveling together involves Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Zhan around by the sleeve for hours, haggling and chatting with vendors and cheerfully touching everything he can, holding their wares up close to his face to examine them from every angle until he grows bored.

Sometimes, there are great fountains in the centers of cities where Wei Wuxian likes to sit in the spray, or statues of local gods he’s never heard of and whose likenesses he dreams up later in idle doodles while Lan Zhan meditates. He likes to bump shoulders with people in the crowd and scoot between heavily packed bodies to see what the commotion is, if there is one. He strolls the streets, tugging Lan Zhan along—not that he’s ever detected any hint of resistance from him regarding this particular ritual—as they gaze up at shopfronts and teahouses and inns, dipping in where they want, passing what they don’t.   

Some of Wei Wuxian’s most treasured memories from their travels take place in quiet shopfronts, watching Lan Zhan discuss a new set of robes with a tailor or explain to a cobbler about the cracked sole of his boot. Lan Zhan enjoys browsing booksellers’ wares, endless seas of scrolls stacked up to the ceiling while dust circles, settles, caught in the daylight streaming in through the windows. In honor of their friendship, Wei Wuxian always keeps up a litany of complaints when Lan Zhan turns into yet another bookseller, grinning at his back the entire time as he follows him inside. He often accompanies Lan Zhan through the aisles, sometimes holding onto the trailing end of his forehead ribbon if he’s feeling cheeky. Anytime Lan Zhan glares at him about it, Wei Wuxian only shrugs, pouts, and says, innocently, “What! It’s practically a labyrinth in here, Lan Zhan! What if I get lost?” He always gets bored, eventually, and drifts away on his own, pulling down interesting scrolls or books and perusing them himself. Not that he would ever admit such a thing to Lan Zhan, but he’s come to enjoy their quiet afternoons in places like these, either reading about whatever cultivation-related topic has been on his mind recently, or taking a nap in a cozy corner until Lan Zhan has gotten his fill of dreary tomes (dreary tomes that Wei Wuxian would certainly never sneak a peek at before Lan Zhan purchases them and sends them back to Cloud Recesses, of course).

Watching Lan Zhan exist in the world as simply a person who runs errands and sometimes needs his boot fixed makes Wei Wuxian’s chest crack with fondness. The esteemed Hanguang-jun, completely untouchable except for when he needs a cobbler. 

None of the usual excitement crashes through Wei Wuxian when they arrive in Shanwei. Despite the region being completely new to him, and the architecture style unfamiliar with lots of interesting shapes and whorls and angles to look at, Wei Wuxian barely registers any of it as he follows Lan Zhan through the crowded, winding streets. When they arrived at Shanwei’s front gates after finding a nearby stable to stow Little Apple in, Lan Zhan had only said, “She’s here,” with a deep gravitas that made Wei Wuxian close his eyes for a very long time before finally prying them open, smiling, and following Lan Zhan across the threshold. His fingers twitch minutely, but he keeps his hands to himself.

He keeps up a cheerful monologue as they roam the streets of Shanwei, everything a colorful blur in front of him. Whatever nonsense comes to mind, he offers it to Lan Zhan, who gives him silence in return. This is not new for them, but the physical distance is. Wei Wuxian feels like he has to shout across a vast gulf just to ensure Lan Zhan hears him wondering aloud about what the most common filling in the bao is here, and if it’s any different than Gusu or Yunmeng.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian has to concede to the reason they’re here and drifts closer to Lan Zhan, careful not to actually touch. “Is she near? Aren’t you excited, Lan Wangji?”

Lan Zhan says nothing and keeps walking through the crowd.

A bystander bumps into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and knocks him sideways. He stumbles into Lan Zhan, who catches him as perfunctorily as a seasoned fisherman pulls his catch from the river. Lan Zhan sets him right, then immediately removes his hands from Wei Wuxian’s arms. As he turns away again, something bubbles up rapidly in Wei Wuxian’s throat. He says, shrill, “Lan Zhan, wait!”

Lan Zhan stops. The people around them continue to flow, an immediate ripple of annoyance through the crowd as Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan block the flow of traffic. His impassive gaze flicks to Wei Wuxian’s face, waiting.

Wei Wuxian says, “Uh—” He didn’t think this far ahead. He swallows. Eases into an awkward laugh. “Um. Should we not get some lunch first? Do you want to meet your betrothed hungry? You know how grumpy you get when you’re hungry.”

“I don’t,” Lan Zhan says.

“Ha. Yeah. Yeah, never mind. Ah—Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian pulls his ponytail over his shoulder, twirling the end of it nervously around his finger as he gets jostled by increasingly annoyed pedestrians. “Should we rest, first? You won’t want to meet her tired. Or maybe a new set of robes? Do you want to take some time to browse the market and buy her a gift?”

For a moment, Lan Zhan actually seems to consider his words. Then he says, tranquil, “No,” and disappears into the hustle and bustle.

“Aiya! Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian hurries after him. He understands the game of rushing through large market crowds, but even he feels bad for the passing merchant’s stomach that receives an accidental elbow from him as he shoves his way through. He calls a lame apology over his shoulder as he pushes through robe-clad figures, heart in his throat. Lan Zhan said it himself. They’re friends, always. He wouldn’t just—he wouldn’t just disappear with his betrothed forever, into the wilds, while Wei Wuxian stands alone in an unfamiliar city.

Finally, Wei Wuxian breaks out of the throng of people near the end of the market street where only a few less-populated and less-ornamented stalls stand, rickety. The buildings around here are mostly boarded-up businesses, abandoned for greener pastures, looking out over an almost-empty square of light-colored, misaligned cobblestones.

Ahead of him, a familiar, white shape. Wei Wuxian’s chest heaves with relief. He pants, “Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan is standing formally, like he would at a discussion conference, back to him, though he’s clearly looking at something. Limbs growing ever colder, Wei Wuxian follows his sightline. It’s hardly a challenge, since there is only one other person in this empty plaza, reclined under the shadowy eave of one of the abandoned businesses on the other side of it.

Wei Wuxian’s mind has always been a flurry of activity, hard to parse even for himself, on occasion. It’s why he can only think, as he watches Lan Zhan step toward the figure, who is by now sitting up and gone completely still, that there has to be some sort of mistake. This can only be a mistake.

Behind him, the babble of the market has disappeared like they’ve been plunged suddenly underwater. 

The figure stands up. Wei Wuxian says, raspy and to no one, “She’s short, Lan Zhan. Haha.”

The figure steps out of the shadows. Lan Zhan takes another step forward. Wei Wuxian takes a step toward Lan Zhan.  

Lan Zhan’s betrothed wears thready, dark robes, hair shorn and curling just under her ears. Her posture is terrible and her shoes are little more than thick burlap wrapped around her feet with rope.

She is, indeed, short.

The world starts to tilt around Wei Wuxian. He stumbles a little. “Lan Zhan,” he mumbles, holding a hand to his head. “That can’t be your wife. That’s a—a—”

Lan Zhan and his betrothed meet in the center of the square. They do not touch. She simply looks up (and up and up) at him, in awe. There is a smear of dirt on her shin, which is only visible because the pants she wears under her robes and her robes themselves are too short, like she recently went through a growth spurt. What hair she does have is frizzy.

“That,” Wei Wuxian says faintly, before the world in front of him blinks out of existence, “is a child.”