Work Text:
Lan Wangji's mother is a Heavenly Maiden.
Not many people know this. As far as anyone is concerned, Madam Lan is a regular mortal woman who caught the eye of Sect Leader Lan and was brought to his home through marriage. It is an extraordinary story, and perhaps one that could have turned into a legendary romance if not for the fact that she lives in isolation and is allowed to see her sons only once a month.
To the small four-year-old Lan Wangji, his mother is divine. All children like to think of their mothers as goddesses. He listens to her every word, especially when, one night, she rouses him out of bed and hurriedly dresses him in a robe made of starlight.
"You must never let this leave your sight and never, ever let anyone else have it," she tells him in hushed whispers as she smooths her milk-white hands over the new robes. The fabric shimmers beneath her fingers. "When your cultivation is high enough, come join a-niang in the heavens."
Lan Wangji is nothing if not eager to please. He obeys without question, even going as far as to sleep with his folded robes beneath his pillow. He does not understand, but he doesn't need to. His mother is always right.
Then, on the day of his and his brother's next visit, she doesn't answer her door.
Lan Wangji knocks, calls for her, kneels outside, but the doors remain closed. When he asks his uncle where his mother is, Lan Qiren looks at him with tired eyes.
"Your mother passed away," he says. He is a strict man, but it is still strange to hear his voice without the slightest hint of empathy or remorse. "Her heart failed. Wangji, please contain your grief."
Lan Wangji is five years old. Grief is too big for him to hold in his small body. He does not understand it, nor can he accept it.
"A-niang said she would wait for me," he protests. When his uncle does not offer explanation or reassurance, he presses harder. "A-niang would not leave."
Lan Qiren looks away. "She did. Wangji, control yourself."
Lan Wangji does not. He kneels in the snow for hours, ignoring his family's coaxing and his uncle's scolding. Only when his brother comes late at night, draped in a new robe that somehow captures the unfathomable deep blue of the ocean, does Lan Wangji allow himself to be led away.
Lan Wangji knows his mother isn't dead. Nobody who knows the truth of what the Lan Sect kept secluded in that gentian house believes for a second that Madam Lan died.
She is just… gone.
As Lan Wangji grows, he learns the truth of his parents' relationship through the bits and pieces of information that accidentally slip past his family members' lips. A fateful meeting with a mortal falling for an immortal. A crime committed, blood spilled at the hands of someone who should never touch blood. A heavenly punishment. A marriage for protection. A robe unwillingly handed over.
The truth is not surprising. Lan Wangji never saw his parents together, and his mother never spoke of his father. He is now old enough to understand that the existence of children is not proof of a loving relationship.
He follows his mother's instructions diligently. After all, she is waiting for him. He never lets his robe out of his sight, always wearing it as an inner layer beneath his Gusu Lan uniform or sleeping with it under his pillow.
As for his cultivation, he goes about it with a bull-like stubbornness. He memorizes an entire library of rules, poems, and mantras. He attends his uncle's classes without fail. He cultivates in seclusion or in the Cold Springs often to strengthen his developing golden core.
Although he must disrobe to get into the Cold Springs, he has never once felt unsafe leaving his robe of starlight on the shore. He is always alone; his position as Head of Student Punishment makes him respected, feared, and unpopular. Nobody wants to give him trouble, or be in his presence for any longer than necessary.
That all changes when that insufferable Jiang Head Disciple arrives at the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji has never met anyone so… unruly before. Wei Wuxian not only doesn't avoid him, but he goes out of his way to actively get under Lan Wangji's skin. It is infuriating. Frustrating. Unimaginable.
Lan Wangji tries his best not to react. That is how Wei Wuxian is: always trying to elicit a reaction. The wise thing to do would be to ignore him and not give him the satisfaction of knowing he successfully annoyed Lan Wangji into reacting.
Then, Wei Wuxian is here. In the Cold Springs. Undressed. Approaching Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji's brain stops working. Even with the smattering of bruises on his back from the disciple board, Wei Wuxian is still smiling. Still calling him Lan Zhan. Still offering his Lotus Pier home as a place to visit.
"Come on, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian whines after being told no to lotus pod-picking. "After all we've been through, we should be pretty close!"
Close. Lan Wangji inhales as his gaze drifts to the beads of water sitting on Wei Wuxian's neck. On his collarbone. His shoulder. If they were closer together, Lan Wangji could just lean forward and taste his skin.
The thought is deeply unsettling. Lan Wangji turns away.
"Fine," Wei Wuxian huffs dramatically as he bunny-hops towards the edge of the pond. "If you're going to be like that, then I'm leaving."
Lan Wangji is used to him leaving. It is something Wei Wuxian does often, usually bounding over to join his friends as Lan Wangji silently watches his red hair ribbon flutter behind him. Wei Wuxian can leave. There will never be a day when Lan Wangji won't let him.
He is about to slip back into a meditative state when he hears an incredulous, "Whoa," behind him.
That is not a sound he has ever heard from Wei Wuxian. He spins fast enough for his wet hair to stick to his cheek, eyes widening in horror.
On the shore, Wei Wuxian stands, half-dressed in his own robes and with the outer layers of Lan Wangji's clothes draped across his forearm. In his other hand, he holds up Lan Wangji's heavenly robe, the fabric shining like spilled stars at midnight.
"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian breathes, a whole constellation reflecting in his eyes. "What's this? It's so—"
Lan Wangji is out of the water in an instant. He snatches his robe out of Wei Wuxian's hands so quickly that the fabric would have torn if it weren't spun out of divine thread.
"Don't touch it!" he snarls, hugging the robes to himself. "Don't you ever touch it, do you understand?!" He can't breathe; he's seeing too much red, and his heart is in his ears. "If you touch it, I'll—I'll—"
He'll do what? The only reason he is able to take his robe back is because Wei Wuxian is unaware of its nature and Lan Wangji's cultivation is not high enough to bind him to the robe. If those circumstances change, then Lan Wangji can do nothing. A false threat is the most he can make.
Wei Wuxian's expression is strange. Raw. He is also much further away than he was just a blink of an eye before. "Lan Zhan." He is still backing up. His voice is small and meek. "I—I was just going to take your clothes as a prank. I didn't mean anything by it. Please calm down. I won't do it again."
He looks nothing like the vibrant, unapologetic boy Lan Wangji has come to know. It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.
Lan Wangji dresses quickly, forgoing the usual clothing etiquette in favor of speed, and flees the Cold Springs.
After a day's rumination, Lan Wangji decides that he should apologize.
Despite his antics, Wei Wuxian has never harmed anyone, nor has he shown any inclination of harmful intentions. It is well within Wei Wuxian's personality to snatch the clothes of a bathing person as a prank of sorts. It is not Wei Wuxian's fault that he picked up Lan Wangji's heavenly robe too. Yelling at him was unnecessary, and unwarranted.
It is noon, and Lan Wangji is copying rules to try and calm his mind when a soft thump catches his attention. There, on a small nearby balcony that allows for a beautiful view of Gusu's mountains, is a rabbit.
Pets are not allowed in the Cloud Recesses, and there are wards in place to prevent wildlife from wandering into the complex. The little white rabbit looks just as surprised to be there as Lan Wangji is to see it.
Before Lan Wangji can do anything, or even begin to try and hypothesize how the rabbit could have gotten into the Library Pavilion, a hand rises from the edge of the balcony with another rabbit in its grasp. This one, a little round black rabbit, gives the hand a vicious nip.
The hand drops the rabbit and disappears with a yelp. "Ow! You naughty little—" a hiss of pain "—and I thought you were cute—"
It is Wei Wuxian. Of course it is Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji puts his inkbrush down. "Wei Ying," he calls.
Wei Wuxian peeks over the balcony floor. "Ah—hello, Lan Zhan. I, uh, didn't know you were here."
That is a lie. Lan Wangji is always in the Library Pavilion well into the afternoon. After a month of copying rules, Wei Wuxian should know this better than anyone.
With a grunt, Wei Wuxian swings his legs over the balcony railing and sits on the floor. "Look what I got you! Two new friends." He shoves the rabbit pair forward. "Aren't they cute?"
The white one, with its healthy sense of self-preservation, bounds forward to burrow itself into Lan Wangji's robes for protection. The black one, notably less cautious, turns to try and bite Wei Wuxian again.
Wei Wuxian screeches and dances out of its reach. "Except you! You are not cute at all! If you don't behave, I'll skewer and roast you over a fire!"
Unheeding, the black rabbit continues its charge towards Wei Wuxian. At the last moment, it sees his white companion nestled in Lan Wangji's robes and redirects its route to also crash into Lan Wangji's legs.
"Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses," Lan Wangji recites as he puts a protective hand in front of the rabbits. "Leave them be, Wei Ying."
Wei Wuxian noticeably perks up. "So you'll take them, then? Ah, that is a relief! I caught them as an apology gift to you."
An… apology gift? Lan Wangji can feel tiny teeth gnawing away at his robes, but he ignores the sensation. Wei Wuxian has nothing to apologize for. The person at fault is Lan Wangji.
"Thank you for the gift, but it is I who should apologize." Lan Wangji lifts a hand to stroke along the white bunny's back. Its fur is very soft. "I overreacted and then left without explanation."
"Ah." Wei Wuxian makes an incredibly vague gesture with both hands. It almost looks like he's trying to shoo away a fly in front of his face. "It's nothing." He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's really nothing. I shouldn't have messed with your stuff. It's my fault."
It truly isn't, but before Lan Wangji can open his mouth and correct him, Wei Wuxian scoots forward and props his elbows up on Lan Wangji's table. With his chin resting on his hand, he grins.
"You're from the heavens, aren't you?" Wei Wuxian says. Lan Wangji's surprise must show on his face, because Wei Wuxian continues, "I thought so. You're too beautiful to be from this earth, Lan Zhan!"
The sound of Wei Wuxian's laugh usually irritates and haunts Lan Wangji to no end, but this time, it brings him nothing but relief. Wei Wuxian does not hate him, or hold last night's misstep against him. He feels his ears redden.
"I am not," he corrects, "but my mother is. She made the robe for me."
"She must be quite beautiful," Wei Wuxian says with a smile. It warms Lan Wangji's heart, because yes, his mother is beautiful. "So I take it that you'll leave to join her once you've cultivated to immortality?"
The question catches Lan Wangji a little off-guard. Yes, his mother's last request is for him to join her up in the heavens once he has cultivated enough to overcome the mortal human blood that flows in his veins, but he has never truly considered it. Immortality through cultivation is the goal of all cultivators, and Lan Wangji is no different. He always figured he would decide when—if—he ever gets there.
Wei Wuxian must have interpreted his silence as confirmation. "Oh, that sounds fun!" He claps his hands together and scoots even closer. Lan Wangji's breath catches. "Lan Zhan, I do not doubt your fighting prowess, but if you think anyone is after your heavenly robe, then just tell me and I'll beat them up for you. Alright?"
The truth of Lan Wangji's birth is hidden from the world; so far, Wei Wuxian is the only outsider who knows. Even if the information somehow ends up leaking out, Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of defending himself, and he has his entire sect behind him.
"Mn," he hums, which earns him a delighted giggle from Wei Wuxian.
"Sooo…" Wei Wuxian drags the word out. "I guess this means you will probably marry a Heavenly Maiden or a goddess of some sort, right?"
Only Wei Wuxian can make such a leap in subject. Lan Wangji will never understand how his mind works. He goes back to writing. "I don't know, and it is none of my concern."
"Aiya, Lan Zhan, have some curiosity!" Wei Wuxian shuffles until he can tug on Lan Wangji's sleeve. "If you are to marry an immortal beauty, don't you want to at least make sure you can please her? You should visit Lotus Pier! There are plenty of girls there who would be willing to help you practice!"
There goes Lan Wangji's good mood. With a huff, he tugs his sleeve out of Wei Wuxian's hold. "I am not willing."
"Come onnn, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian groans, letting his forehead drop to the table. "What do I have to do to convince you to visit? I only have a few decades with you before you inevitably leave for good! If you're going to have an eternity without me, then can't you spend this little sliver of time with me?"
The words 'an eternity without me' flashes through Lan Wangji like a bad memory. It pools nauseatingly in his chest, the beginnings of panic. The thought of never seeing Wei Wuxian again is unthinkable. It feels like grief.
Again, he goes too long without responding. Wei Wuxian sighs and says, "Ah, who knew Lan Zhan could be so cruel!" He dramatically drapes his wrist across his forehead. "Those who are destined for greatness are truly fated to leave us mortal ants behind!"
That is ridiculous. As if Lan Wangji could ever exist without Wei Wuxian's smile and laughter echoing in his mind. As if Wei Wuxian has not already permanently etched himself in between each beat of Lan Wangji's heart.
Lan Wangji has never been good with words, so he stays quiet, and listens to Wei Wuxian rambling about how much effort it took to capture the two rabbits.
Lan Wangji has never been good with words.
But he is good at expression through music.
With the rabbits nestling together and asleep in a small basket of blankets Lan Wangji set out for them, he settles in front of his guqin.
He thinks about how viscerally angry he was to see his heavenly robe in Wei Wuxian's hand. Not scared. Angry. Because, for a moment, Lan Wangji was wholly Wei Wuxian’s, and Wei Wuxian didn't know it.
He thinks of Wei Wuxian's apology and his promise to protect him from those who might covet him and his robe.
He thinks about immortality without Wei Wuxian.
The song flows naturally from him, a quiet yearning and declaration. Surrender. Acceptance.
Those of the Lan blood love only once.
There will be no goddess or any Heavenly Maiden as a bride for him in his future. His heart has already chosen.
The Wens nearly find out. It is only by pure luck that they set the Cloud Recesses on fire instead of raiding it. If they had raided it, they would have found clues hinting at the divine parentage of the Twin Jades.
Lan Wangji fights, and gets a broken leg for his troubles. It is still preferable to getting his clothes torn apart and his heavenly robe snatched.
When he leaves for the Wen indoctrination in Qishan, he leaves with his robe still on his body and out of others' hands. It is a small blessing amidst tragedy after tragedy.
He very nearly suffers another one when he drags an unconscious Wei Wuxian out of bloodied water and away from the recently-slain Tortoise of Carnage. Wei Wuxian is too still, not breathing, and Lan Wangji desperately tries to shake consciousness back into him.
The sound of Wei Wuxian coughing is the best in the world. It means he's alive. He's alive, and Lan Wangji will not lose him.
"I do not have a fever," Wei Wuxian mumbles through sick-drowsy lips as Lan Wangji gently sets him on the cave floor.
"Yes you do," Lan Wangji corrects him. He grabs his heavenly robe—the only dry garment he has. He had taken it off before the battle in case they lost; his mother's gift does not deserve to rot away in the belly of a monster.
Wei Wuxian is still lucid enough to gasp when Lan Wangji drapes the heavenly robe over his body. "Lan Zhan, you can't—I can't have this. It's yours."
Lan Wangji tucks the glowing fabric around him. "You need it more."
"Don't be silly," Wei Wuxian laughs as he tries to kick the robe off. It is about as effective as a baby trying to leave a swaddle. "Your mother would be so upset if she heard about this."
Perhaps. Lan Wangji's mother, who was bound to the Cloud Recesses and her mortal husband by her robe, might not understand why her son would so willingly let his robe leave his hands. Lan Wangji's golden eyes may have come from her, but his heart came from his father.
His mother never understood his father.
She also might not understand why Lan Wangji sings for the boy whose head he now cradles in his lap. She would know of the love of a mother, but not the love between souls.
For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji does not care about what his mother might think.
Eventually, rescue arrives.
Wei Wuxian is not conscious to witness the flood of sunlight as the blocked cave entrance crumbles away. Nor does Lan Wangji have time to put his heavenly robe back on and hide his true nature before someone sees him.
Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, Lan Wangji helps lift Wei Wuxian onto a cart that will take him back to Lotus Pier. Only when a physician is ready with a clean blanket does Lan Wangji pull his heavenly robe away from Wei Wuxian's body. Without looking at anyone, he folds up his robe and hugs it against his waist, as if that will somehow conceal the unearthly way the fabric shines in the late afternoon sun.
"I must return to Gusu," he tells Jiang Fengmian when offered a place to stay at Lotus Pier.
Jiang Fengmian gives him an understanding smile and wishes him well with a nod of his head.
When it is time to part ways, Wei Wuxian still doesn't wake up, and Lan Wangji does not dare to do anything more than touch his arm in goodbye.
Lan Wangji's robe binds with his unique spiritual energy two months into the Sunshot Campaign.
The robe has always been inhumanly soft and easy to wear, but one day, Lan Wangji realizes that he barely feels it on him. It is like a second skin, perfectly measured in every aspect and always an exact fit. It helps cool him down when the day is hot, and keep him warm during long night patrols. Even his wounds heal faster when he's wearing his robe.
The pattern on it changes also. Now there are silver embroidered clouds swirling across his shoulders like the notes of Inquiry. Mountains line the bottom hem with scattered trees of red and orange decorating their sides—much like the maple trees that surround Muxi Mountain.
When he reunites with Wei Wuxian, three months after their parting at the cave of the Tortoise of Carnage, his robe gains a ribbon of red—the color of Wei Wuxian's eyes when he taps into his newfound powers—lining the edges of his sleeves. They look almost like cuffs: binding, claiming, and imprisoning all at once.
His love returns to him a different man, and Lan Wangji's robe doesn't let him forget it.
It is easy to pretend that Lan Wangji's life story is not currently embroidering itself on his heavenly robe when he is wearing it underneath all his other clothing layers.
Bathing and going to sleep are the most dangerous times for him—not because of the increased possibility of his robe being stolen, but because he cannot avoid looking at it and noticing everything new.
An incriminatingly-familiar tree stretches its branches up to Lan Wangji's knees after a stolen kiss at the Phoenix Mountain hunt. A peony appears on his heavenly robe, directly over his heart, after Wei Wuxian tosses a pink peony at him. A pair of small butterflies make their debut near his robe's collar after his lunch in Yiling with Wei Wuxian and a young child named A-Yuan.
Then the siege on the Burial Mounds happens. Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian away and hides him in a cave. He tries to give him spiritual energy, tries to bring him back, tries to tell him everything Lan Wangji should have said a long time ago.
He fails.
The elders find them.
Lan Wangji draws his sword.
When it is time for his punishment, his brother holds his heavenly robe for him. If Lan Xichen notices the spider lilies and Burial Mounds peaks that now cover nearly a quarter of the robe, he mercifully says nothing.
Wei Wuxian dies.
Lan Wangji doesn't get to say goodbye. There is no body. He can't enshroud his beloved in his heavenly robes as a final gift, a promise in the face of eternity, and an apology for the ages.
He still has his robe. Its colors are gone, leaving only shades of white and grey to match his grief. He is not bound to the earth. He could try to reach the heavens, to join his mother. Perhaps he is expected to, after suffering such a loss.
Instead, he stays. He brings back A-Yuan from the Burial Mounds and gives him his courtesy name. He heals until his back only bothers him when rain is on the way. He wanders with dirt instead of air beneath his feet. Wherever help is needed, he goes.
His robes are his own, but his heart is not. It lies somewhere in Yiling, unburied, unmarked, and unmourned among whatever remains of the brightest soul he has ever known.
His mother visits.
It is without announcement or warning. Lan Wangji is just starting to settle down in an inn when he turns around and his mother is there, standing in the middle of the room.
She is a vision. She is no different from Lan Wangji's memories of her, except for her robe. Lan Wangji always saw her in Lan colors. The heavenly robe she now wears is a vibrant verdant green, with stories of her experiences dancing across the fabric.
He wonders if he would find embroideries of Lan Xichen and himself on her robe if he chooses to inspect it. He doesn't ask.
"A-niang," he greets with a bow.
"A-Zhan." His mother's voice is sad and disbelieving. "Why have you not tried to visit a-niang? You've always looked forward to our visits."
Lan Wangji was only five when his mother left. He is now twenty-five. His immortal mother treats twenty years like they are nothing.
"I cannot leave," he says.
"Yes, you can." His mother steps towards him. She is shorter than him, slim and eternally beautiful; she may even be physically younger than him now. "Your grandfather would like to meet you. Once we are home, I can heal your back and your brand scar. You can strengthen your cultivation by leaps and bounds. A-Zhan, we can leave now."
Leave, for what? To meet a divine grandfather who has not bothered to take notice of him his whole life, or to wipe clean all traces of Wei Wuxian's existence from his body? Does his mother think that the solution to his grief is to pretend that the cause of it didn't happen—that he should forget Wei Wuxian?
It is not that easy. It will never be that easy. Lan Wangji’s mortal life is not a mere stepping stone to his ascension. He does not want to be less human and more god if it means that his time on earth will be seen as nothing more than a hiccup in his past. He does not want to entertain the possibility that his memories of Wei Wuxian could eventually fade when exposed to the endless daunting force that is immortality.
Those who cannot be touched by death will never understand those who will eventually be gone.
"I cannot leave," he repeats. "I do not wish to leave."
His mother is silent. She takes in the sight of his robe, the fabric as white and colorless as mourning attire. She reaches out and touches the robe, delicate fingers brushing over embroidered threads.
"A-niang does not understand," she confesses as she thumbs over the two white butterflies at his collar. "But A-niang will try her best to understand. Whenever you are ready, A-Zhan, I will always be here."
She takes his face in her hands and gently reminds him to eat well before she bids him goodbye. After giving him one final embrace, she steps out onto the balcony and disappears in a whisper of wind.
Color does not return to Lan Wangji's robe. Bits of it appear on new memories formed, precious moments preserved, but Lan Wangji's heavenly robe remains white.
A-Yuan, now old enough to question things, does not ask why Lan Wangji's robe is so different from Lan Xichen's. Perhaps Lan Xichen pulled him aside and told him never to bring it up. Perhaps A-Yuan is simply precocious, and can read the weary sadness in Lan Wangji's soul.
When it is time, Lan Wangji gives him the courtesy name of Sizhui: to recollect and long for.
Lan Xichen makes no comment on the name, but the knowing way he looks at Lan Wangji is enough to convey his thoughts.
It doesn't matter. Lan Wangji’s mind was made up long ago. He will not leave. This is the world that once held the bright soul that is Wei Wuxian, and now it holds only memories of him. So long as traces of him remain, Lan Wangji will not leave.
The laughter of mischievous children. The sweet smell from wine distilleries. The way Lan Sizhui points out a pair of butterflies on one of their travels. There will always be traces of Wei Wuxian everywhere in this world.
Heaven cannot claim the same.
Color returns to him carried on squeaky notes spat out by a roughly-shaped flute. He feels it flood across his body like warm summer rain. He does not need to peek down his collar to know that his heavenly robe is no longer white, nor does he need to look to know that his robe will forevermore bear the image of him grasping Wei Wuxian's wrist, the first touch after thirteen long years.
Wei Wuxian is… very much like how he is in Lan Wangji's most precious memories. He is difficult. He throws fits. He tries to escape multiple times and has to be dragged into the Cloud Recesses.
Wei Wuxian's latest escape attempt has him victoriously holding Lan Wangji's heavenly robe while the latter is bathing in the Cold Springs.
"Oh, look at what I have!" Wei Wuxian cackles across the water as he waves the fabric, grinning from ear to ear. "What's this? It looks like a gift from the heavens! Surely Hanguang-Jun would not mind if this young master borrows it for a bit!"
Lan Wangji watches him, docile as can be. He cannot take the robe away from Wei Wuxian, nor does he feel the need to. It is a bluff on Wei Wuxian's part.
Humming, Wei Wuxian turns the robe over in his hands. Lan Wangji knows he is only pretending to inspect it—otherwise, he would surely notice that many of the robe's designs are based off of events they've shared and lived through together.
Wei Wuxian sticks an arm through one of the sleeves and makes a sound of approval. "You know, I've heard stories of mortal men gaining goddesses for wives simply by taking their robes while they bathed." He rubs the fabric between his fingers and the palm of his hand. "I think you would make a good wife, Hanguang-Jun. You could cook for me and mend my clothes and tend to our home. What do you say?"
He is baiting him. Wei Wuxian has always done this, always tried to get a rise out of Lan Wangji. It is so very obvious that he is trying to insult Lan Wangji into angrily kicking him out of the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji walks towards Wei Wuxian and out of the Cold Springs. He doesn't bother to put anything on or cover anything up; water pools around each footstep he leaves behind.
Wei Wuxian's self-confident, slightly manic smile falters, and then turns uneasy the closer Lan Wangji gets. "H-Hanguang-Jun…" he glances downwards on Lan Wangji's body. Regret is immediate; he startles, his face coloring as he frantically redirects his gaze at some bushes.
"If you wish for a wife," Lan Wangji says, "I am willing."
The pleasant pink across Wei Wuxian's face turns beet-red. "Um-mm." He fidgets with the robe in his hands. "Uh. Hm. I—" He suddenly raises the robe with an accusing frown. "This robe is making you say that, isn't it? You don't actually want to marry me, do you?"
That is not how possession of a heavenly robe works. Nobody can make Lan Wangji say anything he doesn't want to say.
With a discontent grumble, Wei Wuxian shoves the heavenly robe back in Lan Wangji's arms. "I'm bored now," he grumbles. His heavy blush suggests otherwise. "Keep the dumb thing. I bet it's not even real."
As soon as Lan Wangji takes his robe back, Wei Wuxian turns and huffily leaves the Cold Springs. Lan Wangji watches him go with a fondness that fills his chest to bursting.
The Gusu Lan forehead ribbon means self-restraint. It is not meant to be touched by anyone other than one's fated person. Only with one's fated person can one truly be free.
The heavenly robe is a gift bestowed on Lan Wangji by his mother. It is a status symbol as much as it is a part of his identity. Celestial blood flows through him. The robe is proof that he is entitled to walk among the heavens as he does on earth. To steal his robe would be to deny him his birthright. To even have permission to touch his robe would be a sign of complete trust.
A forehead ribbon from his father. A heavenly robe from his mother. Both hold heavy significance. Neither can be given away without careful consideration.
Which, to Lan Wangji's alcohol-riddled mind, is the perfect reason why Wei Wuxian should have both items.
He has already tied Wei Wuxian's hands together with his forehead ribbon. This is a very good start. He should have done this sooner. The contrast of blue embroidered clouds and white silk against Wei Wuxian's tanned wrists is nice to look at.
Wei Wuxian would look even nicer clothed in a star-bespeckled robe.
Yes.
Lan Wangji wants—he wants to see what it looks like.
The whining and grumbling from Wei Wuxian turn into panicked rambling as Lan Wangji peels off each clothing layer and carefully places them on a nearby chair.
"Lan Zhan! W-wait! Hold on! What are you doing?" Wei Wuxian kicks, his heels digging into the bed, until he is backed up against the headboard. "Hanguang-Jun! Is this how a gentleman acts?"
Lan Wangji thinks he is being very gentlemanly. The heavenly robe is very soft. Wei Wuxian will like it. He undoes another layer of clothing.
Wei Wuxian makes a strange noise when Lan Wangji tucks the still-warm robe around him. The fabric glitters. "Lan Zhan, you shouldn't. I can't—you told me never to touch it."
Lan Wangji frowns at that. Usually, Wei Wuxian's memory is terrible. He forgets things. Yet, out of everything he could have forgotten, he did not forget the words Lan Wangji so hastily yelled at him back at the Cold Springs when they were children.
"I want you to have it," he tells Wei Wuxian.
For some reason, Wei Wuxian shakes his head. He's no longer smiling. "Lan Zhan, I can't."
"You can," Lan Wangji insists, tucking the robe in tighter under Wei Wuxian's chin. "I trust you."
There is quiet, like the silence that lingers after thunder. When Wei Wuxian laughs, it sounds almost tired. "I can't let you have wine ever again. Your alcohol tolerance is awful."
Lan Wangji is not sure what is funny enough to make Wei Wuxian laugh, but he doesn't question it, nor does he question Wei Wuxian. Instead, he chooses to admire his robe on Wei Wuxian's body, tugging it this way and that to match certain embroidered scenes to Wei Wuxian’s body.
The peony, in particular, he presses over Wei Wuxian's heart. Do you remember giving me this?
The Muxi Mountain cave and its maple trees, to Wei Wuxian's shoulder, where the arrow wound was in his previous life. You played our song.
The red spider lilies and Burial Mounds landscape, to Wei Wuxian's hands. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.
Nighttime falls. Lan Wangji's Gusu Lan bedtime habits kick in, and he falls asleep to the sound of Wei Wuxian's trembling breaths.
Things are different between them, afterwards.
Lan Wangji doesn't remember what happened, but he knows something must have happened.
Wei Wuxian is somehow both further and closer. His touches linger. He leans towards Lan Wangji with more intent. His voice is softer when they're alone.
However, there are times when Wei Wuxian disappears for hours without a word. When he speaks of the future—of what should happen after they have apprehended Jin Guangyao for his crimes—he talks about himself wandering the world. He never mentions Lan Wangji in such hypotheticals.
Lan Wangji never tries to insert himself in such musings. Just because Wei Wuxian is back among the living doesn't mean he is Lan Wangji's to keep. Lan Wangji has him for now. He will cherish the time they have.
Then Lan Wangji ruins it.
At first, he thinks it is a dream. Wei Wuxian is under him, warm, pliant, and very devoid of clothing. He is—he is kissing Lan Wangji and making soft whimpering sounds that fray at Lan Wangji's self-control. He lies on his back, on top of Lan Wangji's heavenly robe. He looks breathtakingly beautiful.
They draw sounds out of each other in between kisses. Lan Wangji doesn't dare look away or let go of him, and Wei Wuxian seems to feel the same.
The words 'thank you' are like a sudden fall into icy water. All warmth disappears, leaving only cold, cold realization. Lan Wangji lets go first, because he cannot hold Wei Wuxian like this, as if anything between them is just repayment or gratitude.
They spend the night in separate bedrooms. It is the worst night Lan Wangji has endured in years.
He doesn't sleep.
He doesn't sleep, so he notices the sound of a window opening in Wei Wuxian's room. When he doesn't hear it close, he knows immediately that Wei Wuxian has left the inn.
And he knows immediately where Wei Wuxian must have gone.
There are familiar faces in the Guanyin Temple. Lan Xichen, for one, looks back at Lan Wangji with shame and sorrow in his eyes. Jin Ling is there too, safely seated next to Lan Xichen and clutching his sword so hard that his knuckles are white.
Jin Guangyao is also there, and he has a guqin string held at Wei Wuxian's neck.
Lan Wangji complies with all of Jin Guangyao's demands. He seals his spiritual energy away. He places his sword and guqin on the floor, out of reach, and steps back.
"Hanguang-Jun is truly a man of his word." Jin Guangyao's ever-appeasing smile is in place. His hands don't waver; the guqin string is still dangerously close to slicing Wei Wuxian's neck open. "If Hanguang-Jun would not mind the additional inconvenience, this humble one would like you to hand over your robe."
The sound Lan Xichen makes is one of high terror.
Lan Wangji does not know how much Jin Guangyao knows of the robe's nature. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. He sheds each clothing layer until he is standing in his night-blue heavenly robe.
The sight of it draws gasps from many of those present. It is impossible to deny the robe's nature when it looks like the stars themselves are sewn into the fabric.
Without a word, Lan Wangji takes his heavenly robe off and approaches Jin Guangyao with it held out. The garment's light sputters and dims the longer it is away from his body.
"My robe is yours. Now release Wei Ying," he says.
"I keep my word," Jin Guangyao replies as he lets go of one end of the guqin string to reach for the robe.
Neither of them get what they want in their hands. The heavy front doors of the temple shatter, and suddenly all attention is on subduing Nie Mingjue's enraged corpse.
The aftermath is a hassle.
The coffin Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue are trapped in is handed over to the Nie Sect for burial. Lan Xichen is being cared for by Lan Qiren, who seems altogether shocked, saddened, and disappointed. Jin Ling is in tears and has to be comforted by his uncle and friends. Clean-up is tedious, and rumors are already starting to fly about Jin Guangyao.
Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian sitting alone with a tub of water, washing Lan Wangji's heavenly robe. It had gone missing in the chaos that followed after Nie Mingjue's corpse began attacking. Wei Wuxian must have grabbed it and kept it safe.
The robe is otherworldly; blood, dirt, and grime cannot taint it for long. They slide off the fabric easily, but Wei Wuxian keeps scrubbing at it. His fingers are wrinkled after being in water for so long.
"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji calls.
Wei Wuxian flinches, then turns around. "Ah-h, Lan Zhan. You found me. I was just, um," he gestures weakly at the robe, "it was dirty."
It was dirty. Now it is clearly clean, and has been for a while. Lan Wangji says nothing.
Wei Wuxian holds the bottom hem of the robe in between his hands, the fabric pulled taut to see the embroidered images better. "It's the Burial Mounds."
Of course Wei Wuxian would recognize the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji nods. "Mn."
Wei Wuxian shifts the robe around until he reaches the black flute near the hip area. "This is Chenqing."
Lan Wangji had gotten that one after Wei Wuxian's death, when he woke up to a fresh brand wound on his chest, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and a pounding headache behind his eyes.
"Mn."
"And this." Wei Wuxian thumbs over an embroidery of the two of them, Lan Wangji's hand around a surprised Wei Wuxian's wrist as a hastily-crafted bamboo dizi slips from his fingers. "It's… us.”
Lan Wangji really does not know what to say. "Mn."
Wei Wuxian lets the robe fall back into the water-filled tub with a sad little splash. "Oh."
Neither of them speaks or moves. Then Wei Wuxian gives the robe one through rinse and begins squeezing water out of it. "Guess I made quite the impact on your life, Lan Zhan. Even your robe won't let you forget me."
Lan Wangji watches him in silence. Wei Wuxian is dense, but he is not stupid. Too much has happened, and now this—the robe itself as proof of much Wei Wuxian has etched himself into Lan Wangji's life and memories.
"Ah, it's still wet." Wei Wuxian pats the fabric futilely with his hand. "You probably shouldn't put this back on just yet. It'll soak through your clothes, and you'll be all miserable and cold. I, um, I could—maybe, I could hold it for you."
Lan Wangji blinks at that, not sure if he has heard correctly. Wei Wuxian so very rarely touches his robe, and when he does, he always trips over himself in his haste to give it back. Now he's holding it, and saying that he wants to hold it.
"I would like that," Lan Wangji hears himself say.
"Oh?" Wei Wuxian walks over to him, a quiet thrill behind his smiling eyes. "Lan Zhan," he whispers, like a secret between them. He presses the wet robe against Lan Wangji's hand. "This is your last chance to be free of me. If you don't take it, then I can't promise you that I'll willingly give you back your robe in the future."
Lan Wangji takes the robe into his hands and lets his spiritual energy spread throughout the garment. The robe responds, each thread vibrant with color and light. Liquid night unfurls from his fingers. Illuminated steam billows from between his hands as all the water evaporates.
"This is your last chance as well," Lan Wangji says as he shakes his robe out. "If you accept my robe, then I will never ask for it back."
Wei Wuxian's eyes are brighter than any of the stars on Lan Wangji's robe. With an exuberant giggle, he leaps forward, arms wrapping around Lan Wangji's neck and lips pressing frantic kisses all over his face.
"Yes!" he laughs in between kisses. "Oh, yes! Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!"
It takes a bit of effort to get Wei Wuxian into the heavenly robe when he is much more focused on drowning Lan Wangji in affection, but Lan Wangji manages. Once the robe is secured on Wei Wuxian's body and the last knot has been tied, Lan Wangji tilts Wei Wuxian's chin up with his fingers and finally gives him a proper kiss.
Wei Wuxian giggles through it all, his face lighting up his face and his cheeks coloring an elated rosy hue.
Lan Wangji kisses him again.
He tastes like happiness.