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Chapter Text

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks as his uncle walks him back into the Jingshi. His face still feels cold, his eyes burn and his stomach and throat ache, and his nose is still swimming with the scent of gentians and snow.

Uncle sighs. He sounds tired, and it immediately makes Lan Wangji feel guilty at causing trouble; Uncle has been so busy ever since Father went into seclusion, and it’s usually his brother that comes pick him up from the house, so he never expected-

“Because I’ve told you not to go there, Wangji,” Uncle says. “You’re breaking the rules.”

“I’m not,” Lan Wangji whispers. “Once a month, I can go.”

“Wangji, she’s not there anymore. You know this,” Uncle shakes his head. “You won’t find her.”

Lan Wangji looks down at the floor, his sight blurring as his eyes fill with tears. “Fuqin should find her.”

Uncle laughs. It’s an ugly, hurt sound Lan Wangji has never heard him make before. “That’s what started all these problems in the first place.”

Lan Wangji flinches, and Uncle recoils like he just realized what he said. He sighs again and runs a tired hand down his face, and Lan Wangji bites down on his bottom lip to hold back the burning in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. His brother always says he could never be a bother, but Uncle doesn’t lie either. Which one is wrong? “For being trouble.”

He can feel Uncle’s eyes on him, and he forces himself not to shake- Uncle dislikes crying children, and always praises him for being quiet. It’s the least he can do after making him go all the way to the gentians house to get him back.

“It’s not-“Uncle starts to speak, then stops like he doesn’t know what he really wanted to say. The silence goes on for a long time; Uncle doesn’t move, and Lan Wangji doesn’t dare speaking again.

After a while he takes a step towards the corner of the Jinghshi, and that’s what gets Uncle moving, like he just woke up from a dream.

“Where are you going?” Uncle asks, following him.

Lan Wangji shrugs, facing the wall.

“Punishment,” he explains. He goes to plant his hands on the floor, when Uncle’s larger one wraps around his wrist and pulls him back up. “Shufu?”

Uncle crouches before him, and his hands move to Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

“My nephews are… the only good thing to come out of a lot of bad,” he says slowly, like it hurts. “You’re never trouble, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji blinks, confused.

“…But Shufu said-“

“Shufu spoke impulsively,” Uncle says firmly. “And caused harm with words he did not think properly. No one is ever done learning, not even this uncle."

Lan Wangji scowls. He's never known Uncle to be wrong before, he didn't think it was possible, but… if he really was mistaken, then it’s wise of him to admit it, no?.

 “No punishment then?” he asks.

“I’m afraid Wangji still broke the rule I gave him.”  Uncle shakes his head. “I can’t have Xichen skipping lessons to go looking for you when you go missing. With your father as he is… your brother needs to be well prepared. Come on, get the ink and the paper.”

Lan Wangji nods quietly. “Yes, Shufu.”

Under his uncle’s careful watch, Lan Wangji grinds some ink and spreads a sheet of paper on the floor.

“Be strict with yourself, stop the bad habits, do not disregard laws and rules,” Uncle lists, and Lan Wangji nods along to each of the rules he’ll be copying. “Fifty times each.”

“Yes, S-“ Lan Wangji stops speaking, watching in shock as his uncle spreads a second sheet of paper next to his, and pulls a brush from his sleeve. “Shufu?”

“Get going, Wangji,” Uncle says simply. Then, much to Lan Wangji’s continued shock, he plants his hands on the floor and kicks up, his pose ramrod straight before he grabs his brush and dips the tip in the ink. “We must be done before dinner.”

Be easy on others, says his uncle’s paper. Respect the filial ones. Do not use harmful words.

“…Yes, Shufu,” Lan Wangji nods, wipes his eyes, and goes to stand on his hands.

🐇🐇🐇

It’s just been a couple of days after the attack when they finally gather themselves enough to send a couple disciples down to Caiyi town to check on the civilians, and Liang Mengyi comes back holding a scroll in shaky hands.

It was left nailed to the lower gates with a knife, she explains as she offers the roll of paper sporting the bright red sun with the summons to Nightless City.

“You’re injured,” Uncle says that evening at his pavilion, looking down at Lan Wangji’s broken leg with sorrowful eyes. He looks exhausted, far older than he is and still pale and weak from the wounds he himself sustained during the attack. “You cannot go like this.”

“We don’t know where Xiongzhang is,” Lan Wangji says quietly, trying to ignore the pressing knot of urgency in his stomach at the mere thought of his brother’s unknown whereabouts. “I’m the only one that can go.”

Uncle sighs. “I shouldn’t have let you go out.”

It’s a moot point- Lan Wangji was never going to stay in the cave and hear his sect siblings be murdered in cold blood, and they both know it.

“I would not have let Shufu stop me,” he says in the end. “Now, too.”

Uncle rubs a hand down his face. “I promised your father I would look after the two of you. Keep you safe.”

Lan Wangji notes with muted interest that his uncle, as usual, doesn’t address his father as his brother. He expected this would change after his death, but it seems some wounds just don’t scab over.

“Shufu has, to the best of his extent,” Lan Wangji nods. “This one is grateful.”

“I have not,” Uncle shakes his head slowly. “Wangji?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know if that child will be there,” Uncle says, and Lan Wangji averts his eyes. “I expect you to act wisely- you’re the future of our sect.”

“Wei Ying is not the heir to the Yunmeng Jiang,” he says quietly. Whatever happens, he will be safe at least.

Uncle watches him carefully, almost as though he can see the thoughts he’s not voicing.

“These things ought to be treated with care, nephew. I expect you to know that, with our family's history,” Uncle says, his face carefully expressionless. “Sometimes one must make hard choices.”

Lan Wangji feels his shoulders stiffen and his hand tighten around Bichen’s sheath. How could he not know? Isn’t he already doing enough by staying away from the man he can feel his soul clamoring for? What else does he want?

“This one knows,” he says quietly, eyeing his uncle’s tense posture and downward curved lips and finding it an uncomfortable mirror of his own, and he remembers his brother’s words from so long ago, when Lan Wangji’s soulmark first appeared. Maybe the curse didn’t skip his uncle after all. “With Shufu’s approval, I’ll leave for Nightless City today.”

His uncle’s eyes look pained, but there’s nothing either of them can do. Lan Xichen is still missing, half the Cloud Recesses burned, and the Wen will come back and burn the rest if they don’t comply with the mandate.

“Take care of yourself, nephew. Seeing you come to any more harm would bring me great distress.”

“Please recover soon, Shufu. May you be healthy by the time Xiongzhang comes back.”

His uncle seems to age another ten years at the mention of his brother, but Lan Wangji isn’t too worried. He will go to Nightless City to appease the Qishan Wen, and if Lan Xichen hasn’t returned by the time he's back, he will find his brother himself, broken leg or not.

“We both have our tasks,” Uncle sighs. “Go swiftly then, Hanguang-jun.”

🐇🐇🐇

Wei Ying is dying.

The resentful energy’s eating him from the inside even as Lan Wangji frantically forces spiritual power into his meridians to try and heal the injuries he sustained in the battle, but it’s just too much. Wei Ying is delirious with pain and grief, holding on to Lan Wangji’s sleeve like it’s his only tether to consciousness, and as a bloodied tear clears a trail across a dirt-smeared cheek, the reality of the situation washes over him like freezing cold rain.

His fated is going to die, and he never even-

“Wei Ying,” he speaks, his voice harsh with urgency. “Wei Ying, can you hear me?”

He has to tell him, he- he’s not selfish enough to think their fractured, ignored bond will be enough to tether Wei Ying to life after losing his sister, but maybe it will bring him some peace. Maybe it will be enough to soothe the resentment burning him alive-

“Wei Ying, please-“

“Get… get lost,” Wei Ying’s voice is quiet and defeated, so unlike anything he’s ever heard him sound before. The fire roaring at his core has burned itself out, and now there’s only ashes left. “Go away.”

“No. Wei Ying, you’re injured-“

“Go away!” Wei Ying snarls, his eyes flashing red at his outburst. “Go away before- just go.”

“Please-“

“Get lost!”

“I think he’s made his stance very clear,” Uncle speaks by the entrance of the cave, and Lan Wangji freezes. They found them so quickly- did his brother ask Nie Mingjue to send a tracking talisman? Is he here too? “Wangji, step away.”

He doesn’t turn to face his uncle and whoever else he brought with him. It doesn’t matter, none of them do. The only one that matters is Wei Ying, who’s still bleeding and muttering at him to go away but hasn’t let go of his sleeve. Lan Wangji uses the hand he’s channeling spiritual power with to cup Wei Ying’s face and realizes he’s afraid. He’s always been so afraid of the intensity of his feelings for this man, but that fear now pales in comparison to the slowly dawning horror of understanding he will have to live in a world without Wei Ying, because he didn’t stand by his side in time.

“Wangji, I said-“

“No,” he says before he can even register the word. He channels a last burst of spiritual energy into Wei Ying and turns to face his uncle, and finds him surrounded by the elders of the Cloud Recesses, looking down at him with his lips pursed tight and his eyes wide in anger.

“He murdered hundreds of people back at Nightless City,” Uncle says, shaking his head in disbelief. “His own sister.”

Wei Ying lets out a quiet sigh behind him, and Lan Wangji feels his resolve solidify. He’s not under any false impression of why the elders are here, but he can’t- he won’t let them take him, if it’s the last thing he does.

Under the elders’ shocked, indignant stares, he lifts Bichen and widens his stance to stand more firmly before his fated. His uncle, however, merely seems to deflate at the sight of him, his shoulders falling as he gives a little shake of his head.

“Nephew…” he says quietly, both a warning and a plea. “This is not worth it.”

Lan Wangji feels his blood boil- what right does his uncle have to dismiss all that is Wei Ying as worthless? When neither him, nor- nor anyone spoke in his defense, bothered to hear his side of the story. This is not just Lan Wangji’s fated, he’s also a good man, and under the rules of his clan he should have been protected instead of abandoned.

“Sometimes one must make hard choices,” Lan Wangji says. It sounds a little like an accusation, but this is the choice he’s made, the one he should’ve made long ago.

Uncle shakes his head again, and unsheathes his own sword.

🐇🐇🐇

The door to the Jingshi slides open all of a sudden, and Lan Wangji shoots a hand out for his sword, feeling the barely-scabbed over wounds on his back reopening yet again.

His uncle stands at his threshold, profiled by the cool autumn rain and staring at him in shock. He wasn't expecting to see him- he hasn't been by ever since he received his punishment.

Behind him, A-Yuan coughs again, squirming uncomfortably on Lan Wangji’s bed.

“It’s true,” Uncle says, his voice faint. “Your brother told me, but I thought-“

“Xiongzhang doesn’t lie,” Lan Wangji says simply, lowering Bichen to the floor again. “If Shufu wants me gone, I will do so as soon as A-Yuan’s fever has broken.”

His brother had assured him it wouldn’t be the case, but the last thing he wants is to cause him trouble with their uncle. He should’ve left the Cloud Recesses a long time ago, anyways.

“A-Yuan- Wangji, that is a Wen child,” Uncle says in a quiet hiss.

“A-Yuan is my fated’s child,” Lan Wangji says. The rush of feelings that floods his chest at the words is nigh indescribable, a mix of pain and pride and challenge as he straightens up as best he can with his wounded back to look at his uncle in the eye. “My child.”

Uncle shakes his head in disbelief, coming into the room with careful steps, as though he expects Lan Wangji will attack him like he did at the cave in Yiling. “You’ve lost your mind. If they discover him, you’ll be accused of treason.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji nods. This and so many other thoughts crossed his mind in the time it took to fly over from the Burial Mounds, and none of them was able to convince him to drop A-Yuan off at a temple or orphanage, or any of the minor sects that weren’t involved in the war. “As I said, we will go.”

“I hope Wangji’s not planning on taking my nephew anywhere before he’s recovered,” Lan Xichen’s voice joins the conversation as his brother appears on the threshold as well, and Lan Wangji feels his entire body relaxing, letting go of a tension he wasn’t even aware he was carrying. “I brought warm congee from the kitchens, and tea for a stubborn brother that won’t rest. Would Shufu like a cup as well?”

“You approv- Xichen, I expected better from you. Does neither of you understand the danger this is placing the sect in?” Uncle insists as Lan Xichen sets up the tea and food on a table by the bed, then moves to rest a hand on A-Yuan’s forehead to pour some soothing spiritual energy into his burning body. “This is unreasonable and selfish, from both of you.”

“A-Yuan did not burn Lotus Pier, or siege the Cloud Recesses. He did not use the Yin Iron or control fierce corpses,” Lan Wangji says quietly. Even after so long and despite his brother’s support, it still feels off to go against his uncle so openly. “This is about Wei Ying.”

“Well, of course it is about Wei Wuxian!” Uncle snaps. Lan Wangji feels his shoulders tensing again, and his brother laying a calming hand on his arm. “He-“

“Shufu never held Muqin’s actions against either of us,” Lan Wangji continues, and his uncle recoils like he’s been slapped. “Why is A-Yuan different?”

It may be petty, but Lan Wangji finds himself satisfied when Uncle has nothing to say to that, or for a few long moments as the three of them sit in a tense standoff. Regardless of what his brother says, Lan Wangji knows he’s not the only stubborn one here, and he’s never known Uncle to change his mind; he’s more than ready to pack his bags and go, as soon as-

“And why is he even sick?” Uncle grunts. “Whatever was Wei Wuxian doing?”

‘Being dead,’ Lan Wangji thinks, but he has the good sense to keep it to himself.

“A-Yuan spent several days hiding in the Burial Mounds by himself,” he says in the end. “I don’t know what he ate or drank, but without Wei Ying’s protections-”

“Hm. Well, feed him already,” Uncle cuts him off with another grumble. Out of the corner of his eye, Lan Wangji sees his brother’s lips twitch. “That porridge is getting cold.”

Lan Wangji moves slow to not aggravate his wounds even more, and wordlessly grabs the warm bowl from the table.

“Jin Guangshan will demand that he be killed if anyone finds out,” Uncle says after another moment, when Lan Wangji’s moving towards the bed to nudge A-Yuan awake. "He cannot leave Gusu."

Lan Wangji nods. "I understand the necessity."

"And you need to give him another name. A courtesy name at least," Uncle adds. "Have you thought of something?"

Lan Wangji nods again, feeling his ears warm up. 

"Lan Sizhui," he says, quietly. 

Off to the side, his brother smiles, amused and fond. "It's a beautiful name. Doesn't Shufu think so too?"

Uncle sighs. "It's truthful, at least."

🐇🐇🐇

Wei Ying is fidgeting where he sits by Lan Wangji’s side under Uncle’s cold, unamused stare.

“And you expect me to give you my blessing?” Uncle says at last, after what feels like an eternity.

Wei Ying clears his throat. “Uh- I know it would mean a lot to Lan Zhan if you gave it, laoshi.”

“I don’t presume you care much if I don’t,” Uncle arches an eyebrow.

“Aiya- it’s- uh-“ Wei Ying fidgets some more- it’s an amusing enough sight, Lan Wangji thinks; his fated rubs elbows with fierce corpses and has butted heads with some of the cultivation world’s most powerful men -including Uncle- before, but now that he’s asking for this particular favor, it’s as though all his cheeky bravado has left him. It goes to show he really does understand how much this means to Lan Wangji, even if he misunderstands his own importance in the matter. “Of course this one cares, la-“

“I was not talking to you, Wei Wuxian,” Uncle interrupts. His voice is firm, but not overtly mean or angered.

Lan Wangji bows his head. “Shufu taught me that sometimes one must make hard choices,” he says. “I do not wish to dishonor Shufu’s teachings or be ungrateful.”

“But?” Uncle asks. His voice is bitter, as though he already knows the answer to his question.

“But thirteen years ago, I made my choice too late,” he says, reaching out to take one of Wei Ying’s hands in his own. “Not this time.”

“There’s- ah- Lan Zhan, it wasn’t your fault,” Wei Ying scowls, squeezing his hand back. “I was trying to- I thought it would be better for you if you stayed away from me. It would’ve caused you too much trouble.”

 “You were always regrettably smart, for someone as undisciplined as you.” Uncle huffs a bitter chuckle, then shakes his head weakly. “Why ask this of me now, Wangji? With how Xichen is right now?”

Lan Wangji feels himself tensing even further at the reminder of his brother’s state- he barely comes out of his house most days, and even when he does it’s like he’s far away, his eyes glazed over and pointed towards Yunmeng, where his husbands are sealed.

It’s a very uncomfortable reminder of the months after Wei Ying’s death.

“Xiongzhang is why,” he says. Thirteen years ago, his brother made sure to keep him human, to be there for him and Sizhui until Lan Wangji could endure living in the present again. Wei Ying squeezes his hand again, and he squares his shoulders and looks his uncle in the eye, determined. His brother is the reason. “I plan on staying at the Cloud Recesses permanently until he recovers.”

“Hm? No going where chaos is, for the righteous Hanguang-jun?” Uncle asks. It’s not necessarily hostile, but from the bitterness in his words Lan Wangji can guess his uncle is sensing what point he’s getting at.

“Mn. Unless no one else can help,” he says. “Until Xiongzhang is better.”

“A very wise and selfless decision,” Uncle sighs, rubbing a tired hand down his face. “And I presume your condition is…”

“The Gusu Lan did not collapse when Xiongzhang married two unorthodox cultivators,” Lan Wangji says simply. Be it sentient resentful swords or another follower of Wei Ying’s ghost path, it’s the truth. “I trust it can endure me marrying one.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Wei Ying burying his reddened face in his free hand, like he does whenever Lan Wangji whispers words of love into his ear when they lay together. It’s- he can’t afford to be distracted by such thoughts at the moment, so he focuses on his uncle, who looks like he aged twenty years in twenty seconds.

“Wangji…”

“Uh- Lan-laoshi has done a great job keeping Lan Zhan safe and happy his entire life,” Wei Ying speaks up suddenly, his face still red but his grey eyes determined. “With his permission… it’s this one’s turn now.”

“Hm.” Uncle’s eyes narrow for a moment, before he shakes his head, turning to look at Lan Wangji again. “And you won’t stay if he doesn’t?

“Wei Ying may come and go as he pleases,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “I will wait for him, always.”

Uncle remains silent for another long moment, but in the end he merely gives another, longer sigh, sounding exhausted this time.

“I trust your mother would be very satisfied with this situation,” he says, giving Wei Ying a sullen, unamused glare. “I expect you to abide by the precepts while you’re here.”

Wei Ying’s face illuminates like a calm spring under the rising dawn, the sight just as enthralling to Lan Wangji.

“This one will do his best, Lan-shufu!”

“Don’t.”

Chapter Text

“Can I tell Wangji a secret?” his brother asks in the quiet of Lan Wangji’s room. The two of them are having a cup of tea before bed when the question is asked, and Lan Wangji shifts on his seat to look curiously up at his brother.

“Mn?”

“It’s a very important secret, but-“ his brother bites his bottom lip. “Wangji has to promise not to tell Shufu, unless he asks.”

Lan Wangji scowls. “Xiongzhang, lying is forbidden.”

“It is,” Lan Xichen nods, patting him gently on the head. “And if Shufu asks you, you have to tell the truth.”

“But… not if he doesn’t ask?”

“Then that would be gossiping, wouldn’t it?” Lan Xichen asks, looking very pleased with himself.

“And gossip is forbidden.” Lan Wangji arches an unimpressed eyebrow. He’s old enough now to start understanding his brother has his own way to not break the rules. He thinks it feels harder than simply sticking to the wall’s teachings, but there’s got to be a reason for it. “What is Xiongzhang’s secret?”

His brother’s golden eyes twinkle in excitement, his lips curling into a smile.

“One of my soulmarks cleared,” he whispers, and Lan Wangji feels something cold and slimy settle down in his stomach.

His- he’s always known his brother has soulmarks, even if he’s never seen them; the matching armguards he started wearing a couple years ago were an obvious sign, but he’d hoped… he’d hoped Lan Xichen would never meet his fated.

That he'd never cross paths with the ones that would take his brother away forever, that supposedly shared a part of his heart- and that too! What- how are these people supposed to take care of his brother, when every soul bond in the family for the past two hundred years ended in tragedy?! Who even-

Oh.

“Xiongzhang has been spending time with Nie-gongzi,” Lan Wangji says, his voice sharp.

Much to his annoyance however, his brother’s smile merely turns a bit softer instead of faltering.

“Yes, it’s- Mingjue’s one of my fated,” he says, pronouncing the name like he’s reciting poetry. “I like him a lot.”

Lan Wangji wants to bite something.

“I- Xiongzhang is not nervous?” he asks after a moment of getting his emotions under control, tightening his fists on his lap.

“Hm?” His brother tilts his head in confusion, before his expression clears, and his smile finally fades. “…Oh.”

“Mn.”

Will someone end up trapped in a house on the outskirts of the Cloud Recesses again, thinks Lan Wangji, who by this time has begun to understand his mother’s situation was far from normal.

What if- what if they die, and his brother locks himself up like their father? What if Lan Wangji never sees him again?!

“…Wangji, you don’t have to be afraid for me,” his brother’s gentle voice draws him out of his spiral, and a hand is carefully laid on his shoulder.

“Just… worried,” Lan Wangji says quietly.

“…Hey, look at me, please?” Lan Xichen squeezes his shoulder. “Wangji?”

After a moment of deep breathing to get back in control, Lan Wangji looks up to meet his brother’s eyes.

“If it turns out Mingjue or my other fated aren’t as good as I thought… then I will be hurt, but I’ll still have Wangji, and Shufu, and the rest of the clan.” Lan Xichen says.

“I don’t want xiongzhang to get hurt.”

“Life always hurts, Wangji,” his brother says, before wrapping him into a hug. “Do you trust me?”

“…Mn.”

“Then trust that nothing can hurt me more than I love Wangji. I’m always going to be here, no matter what happens.”

🐇🐇🐇

He’s cultivating at the cold spring when his golden core finally solidifies. It’s not an anomaly, in fact he thinks this is where his brother was when he formed his as well. In any case, Lan Wangji shivers at the absolutely overwhelming sensation of his qi forming a nucleus of pure energy at his core, leaving him warm and tingly despite the cold water swirling around his nude body.

While he’s not the youngest of the Lan to ever form a golden core -that would be his brother, rushing to develop his at twelve years old because he was so determined to find out if he’d been marked for a soulmate-, he has the fleeting thought that he’s only been properly cultivating for two years, and there are absolutely no records of anyone forming a golden core after so short a time.

The Twin Jades of Lan, both prodigies in their own right.

He looks at himself in the water- objectively he knows his golden core forming wouldn’t reflect on his appearance, but maybe he expects himself to look… wiser. More mature. The kind of young cultivator that not only fulfilled but exceeded his uncle and clan’s expectations.

That’s when he sees the darkened patch of skin, forming the shape of a lotus flower over his heart.

Lan Wangji drapes his robe tighter around himself and curls into a ball against the wall.

For some reason it feels colder in the Gentian House than it felt at the cold spring, and he has the stupid, unexplainable thought that his mother’s hands were always warm anyways. Maybe it’s cold now because she’s not here.

There’s a silvery glow through the window, and he looks up in time to see a spiritual piglet stumble its way into the house. He’s not at all surprised- he’d known Nie Mingjue was visiting and it makes sense he offered to help look when Lan Wangji didn’t return to the compound after curfew.

Sure enough the door is abruptly yanked open just a moment later, and his brother practically crashes into the room- Lan Wangji has never known him to be anything short of graceful, so he really must’ve been worried, he thinks with a pang of guilt.

“Wangji? What happened?” his brother asks, hurrying his way to his side and hovering his hands over him, his brow furrowed in concern. “It’s almost midnight, we- are you alright?”

“I’ve been here,” Lan Wangji mutters. “Came from the cold spring.”

“The cold- what? Wangji, what’s wrong?” Lan Xichen leans over to look at his face. “Are you hurt or-?”

“Not hurt,” Lan Wangji cuts him off. He should offer an explanation, but if words are usually difficult to push past his lips, these are impossible to even force past his throat.

“I- you’re not alright,” his brother’s voice is a bit more desperate now- he’s always known how to read his moods. “I don’t- Wangji, please help me understand. I’ll help, you, but I need to know.“

He can’t. No one can help him, Lan Wangji thinks with a slight hint of hysteria. No one can save him from this, not even his brother.

He still needs to explain though, so he merely reaches out with a slightly unsteady hand and closes his eyes. He feels his qi rushing through his meridians, smooth and strong and manifesting outside his body to coat his fingertips with the glow of spiritual power, and he hears his brother draw in a sharp breath.

“You- but you’ve only just started cultivating? I- Wangji, this is impossible-” Lan Xichen says, his hands coming to gently cradle Lan Wangji’s own. They’re warm like his mother’s, and it's this discovery added to the rest of the day's events that makes his vision blurry when he finally opens his eyes to confess.

“Xiongzhang- I am marked,” he says, his voice a strangled whisper in the dark of the Gentian House.

Lan Xichen freezes.

“…Oh.”

“Mn.”

“Ah, Wangji…” his brother sighs. “You’re- I know you’re afraid, but it doesn’t have to be bad. It- it doesn’t have to be like them. I’ve been with Mingjue for a while now, and-”

“It’s different,” Lan Wangji sighs. He doesn’t roll his eyes of course, but he can tell his brother feels the dryness in his voice.

“Why would it be different?” Lan Xichen asks, arching an eyebrow.

Lan Wangji shrugs. “Da-ge loves you.”

There’s a long pause after his words, and it’s very telling that not even his brother with his careful sidestepping around the ‘Do Not Lie’ precept will dare saying their parents loved each other too.

“Well- well, if Wangji ever meets his fated, I’m sure they will love him too, no reason for them not to,” Lan Xichen says firmly. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Wangji. It’s a soul mark, not a chain.”

“It’s a chain for us,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “I was hoping… because Fuqin had it, and Xiongzhang has them too…”

“That because I have two, there would be none left for Wangji?” his brother chuckles. “Or that younger brothers don’t get marks?”

Lan Wangji says nothing, but he feels his ears warming up in embarrassment, and he’s grateful for the darkness.

“Shufu doesn’t have a mark,” he says sullenly.

“Don’t be so sure.” His brother chuckles again, before sitting down next to him and throwing an arm over his shoulders in a gentle, open hug that he could shrug off if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

“You think he has one?”

“Gossip is forbidden, Wangji.” Lan Xichen squeezes his shoulders once. "Just... don't worry about it too much, alright? If you ever meet your fated, and you don't like them... we'll deal with it then."

Lan Wangji sighs. "Xiongzhang can't fix this."

"Very few things this one wouldn't do for A-Zhan. Like I said, don't worry about it too much," his brother shrugs, humming in a pleasant, carefree tone. "Now... it's far too late to go back, so-"

"Xiongzhang already went out after curfew."

"-so! Let's just stay here for tonight," Lan Xichen continues as though the interruption never happened, and Lan Wangji feels his lips twitch. "There should still be some tea left around- I'd like to know what kinds of techniques Wangji plans on studying now that he's got his golden core."

He climbs to his feet and goes rummaging in their mother's little kitchen drawers, and Lan Wangji feels a strange sort of calm settle over his upset, anxious heart, so much so that he can almost ignore the weight of the lotus-shaped mark resting over it.

They'll deal with it when it happens.

🐇🐇🐇

“How’s your leg?” Lan Xichen asks as he comes into the room with a tray holding a tea service and a bowl with sliced, seedless loquat halves.

Lan Wangji’s still somewhat sulky at being banned to his bed for a week- turns out that walking all the way to Mount Muxi and then fighting a demi-Xuanwu isn’t the best for a healing broken bone, but his brother has been spoiling him as much as the frugality precepts allow and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the time spent together, even if Lan Xichen refuses to tell him just how he escaped the siege and where he’s been until now.

“Better now,” Lan Wangji nods in greeting as his brother comes to sit by his bed. “Two or three more days.”

“I’d much rather Wangji doesn’t rush his recovery,” Lan Xichen says, pouring tea for the two of them and handing over the bowl with the fruit. “Jiang-zongzhu sent a message to let us know Wei-gongzi’s recovering well, I thought Wangji would be happy to hear it.”

Lan Wangji looks down at the white porcelain bowl filtered yellow through the sweet loquat juice, and thinks of Wei Ying’s unfocused eyes, his faint blood-splattered smile, and the burning pain in his chest.

By the side of the bed, his brother waits patiently for him to find his words, as usual.

“…I thought he’d died in my arms, back at the cave,” he says in the end, and every word seems like pulling out a sharp dagger stuck in his chest. “I had to check my mark to make sure.”

Lan Xichen’s hand comes to rest lightly on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. “But he didn’t. My brother’s fated is strong and determined, just like him.”

“Xiongzhang… I’m afraid,” Lan Wangji says quietly, then whirls around when his brother lets out a low chuckle.

“I think it’s quite normal… I’m afraid too.”

“Xiongzhang is…?”

“There’s a war brewing, Wangji. Where do you think my fated will be?” Lan XIchen sighs. “Even knowing I’ll be right there fighting by Mingjue’s side on the frontlines, I’m terrified of losing either of them. I understand how you’re feeling, but if the gods are gentle and fair then Wei-gongzi will be safe. Lotus Pier has done nothing to personally offend the Wen, and even if they had, it’s unlikely that Jiang-zongzhu will send his heir to the frontlines, and Wei-gongzi with him.”

“I don’t- the mark, it’s just… fear and pain and worry,” Lan Wangji mutters. “It still feels like a curse.”

“Love can be a curse, sometimes,” his brother nods. His eyes have that faraway look they usually take when he’s thinking about their parents. “But is it worth it? When you’re with him?”

Lan Wangji keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on the bowl on his lap, but he can feel his ears heating up, and hear his brother’s quiet chuckle.

“That’s all that matters, then,” Lan Xichen says, squeezing his shoulder again. “As long as Wangji’s happy, everything else will be alright.”

🐇🐇🐇

The room is dark when he wakes up again, silent except for the sound of Lan Wangji’s labored breathing. Someone lit up incense sticks while he slept, but it’s not enough to disguise the metallic smell of blood permeating the air.

He shifts on the bed to try and sit up, but the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso and shoulders keep him from fully rising. However, the movement and the quiet, pained exhale he lets out are enough to alert the other person in the room of his attempts.

“Don’t try to move, please,” his brother rushes to the side of his bed, his expression concerned. “You wounds are still fresh and-“

“Wei Ying-“Lan Wangji grunts, voicing the one and only thought running through his mind from the moment he woke up. “Where-“

“Wangji…” Lan Xichen says quietly. “He- they went to Yiling already. To try-“

“Where is he?” Lan Wangji sits up at the words, wincing at the pain and the disgusting feeling of blood seeping into his bandages. “How-“

His brother’s hand lands gently on his collarbone to try and hold him in place without touching his injured shoulders.

“Wangji…” he says again, his voice even weaker than before, and something cold and slimy slides down Lan Wangji’s throat and settles heavily in his stomach when he looks up at his brother’s heartbroken expression. “I- Mingjue tried to bring him back alive, we could’ve fixed- Wangji!”

He doesn’t pay him any mind, focused instead on yanking at the bandages around his torso until he can get them loose enough to get a glimpse at his chest.

There, where the red lotus of Yunmeng- no, the red lotus of Wei Ying used to rest on its rightful place over his heart, there’s nothing but a slightly darker patch of skin, mocking him with the familiar shape missing its usual vibrant red.

Like blood, like glowing resentful eyes softening their gaze for him, like a bright ribbon on midnight black hair.

And now it’s gone.

“A-Zhan… I’m so sorry,” his brother says. “This was never supposed to happen.”

“Was it not?” Lan Wangji asks, hearing his voice like it’s detached from his body, even though the words taste like iron on his tongue. “It’s all fixed, with Wei Ying dead.”

“This was not the plan,” Lan Xichen sighs. “Wangji, he did it himself. He- he broke the seal and called forth all the fierce corpses in the Burial Mounds. Mingjue and the others were lucky to come out alive, they-“

“I should’ve been there,” Lan Wangji cuts him off, and his brother winces.

“You did all you could, Wangji. Wei-gongzi had a fierce heart and he was true to it to the end.”

“Should’ve gone with him,” he says. “From the start.”

He made his choice too late, he should’ve walked out of the Glamour Hall with him, should’ve helped him build a home in Yiling, for the Wen and for the two of them and A-Yuan-

Lan Wangji stiffens.

“You… would Wangji have liked that?” his brother asks gently. “I didn’t-“

“Xiongzhang-“ Lan Wangji speaks over him one more time, his voice rough and strained with tension. “I’m- unwell.”

“Huh?” Lan Xichen blinks, confused. “Are you feeling dizzy? You lost a lot of blood during the whipping.”

“Just tired,” Lan Wangji says, averting his eyes. “A little hungry too.”

“I- of course. Yes. Wangji should take a nap, and I’ll go get you some food from the kitchens,” his brother nods. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Lan Wangji nods back. “Xiongzhang is too kind to this one.”

“I’m really not. Wangji deserves everything.” Lan Xichen’s expression softens once again, and Lan Wangji guesses the only thing keeping his brother from offering a hug is his wounded back. “Please rest.”

He hums an agreement, and waits until the door slides shut behind his brother to painstakingly climb to his feet and stretch a hand to call Bichen to him.

The flight to Yiling is long, but he’ll make it. He has to, before it’s too late.

🐇🐇🐇

The cold spring is already occupied when Lan Wangji approaches it that morning, but he’s close enough to see who the other occupant is by then, and he merely keeps walking calmly towards the edge.

“Good morning, Xiongzhang.”

“Hm? Oh- good morning,” Lan Xichen greets with a smile. “I can go now, if Wangji wants to come in.”

It’s a kind offer- Lan Wangji has always been fiercely private, given how hard it is to hide his soul mark when he’s disrobed. Unnecessary, given that his brother has seen it once before, but kind still.

“No need,” Lan Wangji shrugs before taking his robes off and folding them neatly on one of the flat rocks by the edge, until he’s left only in his trousers. His brother politely averts his gaze until Lan Wangji comes in enough that the cool fog of the spring obscures his chest somewhat, and then he gestures to the spot next to where he’s sitting.

Even then he keeps his eyes fixed further down the spring though, and Lan Wangji feels a pang of vindictive amusement.

His brother’s husbands have never been especially discreet and as such he’s more than proficient at ignoring the marks on his brother’s shoulders and neck, but Lan Xichen doesn’t have such practice and he looks very uncomfortable now that they’re in equal conditions.

“Xiongzhang seems well,” he says to ease the mood. “I’m glad. It’s been a long three years.”

“I’ve been well. Getting used to the flow of the Cloud Recesses again is tiring, but rewarding.” Lan Xichen nods. “But I won’t delude myself- Wangji waited for a lot longer than me.”

“It was different. I had Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji says and means it. His brother’s support was invaluable during the years spent without Wei Ying.

“I should’ve been there this time too.” Lan Xichen says quietly. “I know it can’t have been easy, convincing Shufu of letting Wei-gongzi stay.”

“Easier than expected,” Lan Wangji shrugs. “I was not going to let my fated be taken from me again… but I suppose Xiongzhang knows how that goes.”

“Don’t I,” Lan Xichen sighs with a fondly exasperated smile. “I suppose Wangji heard?”

“I believe we all did.” Lan Wangji feels a spark of amusement catch in his stomach; Uncle’s opinion regarding the two fierce corpses inhabiting the Hanshi had been stated loud and clear- as had his brother’s.

“Wangji doesn’t care?” his brother turns to him with an arched eyebrow, and he shrugs again.

“Wei Ying is dead too,” he says. It’s a technicality, but Wei Ying is a not-quite-revengeful spirit possessing a willing body. “I care that Xiongzhang is happy.”

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, not meditating properly but just enjoying each other’s company. It feels almost surreal, Lan Wangji thinks, that everything that’s happened is finally over and done with, and they can just… sit here, in peace.

“It’s interesting, no?” Lan Xichen speaks after a while.

“Hm?” Lan Wangji turns to look at him. His brother is looking down at his wrists, where he can spy the faded shapes of the peony and the beast head through the fog.

“We were always so preoccupied about it…” he says quietly. “It’s funny that we’re doing better after they have faded.”

Lan Wangji looks down at the lotus-shaped scar on his chest, contemplating his brother’s words for a long while.

“It no longer feels like a chain,” he says in the end. “I chose it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his brother smile.

“Not perfect, but perfect for you,” he mutters quietly to himself.

“Xiongzhang forgave them already, then?” Lan Wangji asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I did,” his brother hums, nodding. “They don’t know yet, though. I trust Wangji won’t tell them?”

Lan Wangji feels the corner of his lips twitch. “That would be gossiping, Xiongzhang.”

His brother laughs and Lan Wangji leans back against the edge of the spring. It’s a beautiful morning in the Cloud Recesses, and the shadows of the past can no longer chain them down.

Chapter Text

Koi Tower is... Noisy.

Lan Wangji will admit it's definitely beautiful, but it's very hard to appreciate it with the spiritual hounds and the disciples chasing each other around, the servants running across corridors and gardens carrying trays laden with gold-rimmed porcelain, and the loud voices of the song girls that seem to be stationed in any room in which more than two people have gathered at any given moment.

He's not particularly fond of the way the younger Jin disciples look at him either, their condescending little smiles whenever he declines to join in on their ruckus, and the way they snicker behind his back when he goes back to his reading- Lan Wangji knows he's quiet even for Cloud Recesses standards, but at least no one makes him feel like an oddity there.

He gives Jin Zixuan's cousin a cold stare as he passes him, and the boy's smug smirk widens before he turns to whisper in one of his friends' ears, but by then Lan Wangji's too far to hear what's being said, which is probably for the best.

Lan Wangji roams the long, twisty corridors of Koi Tower avoiding people as much as possible, until his steps finally take him to the area that was assigned to the Cloud Recesses delegation, and he gives a perfunctory look around before he heads for his brother's door and slips inside the room.

It's not- his brother probably won't be angry even if he finds out, he just needs a moment to-

"Lan Wangji?" asks a familiar voice behind him, and Lan Wangji spins around to find Nie Mingjue standing by the window, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

"...Mn." Lan Wangji nods curtly after a moment of silence in which he fails to come up with an excuse that wouldn't be an outright lie.

"Are you looking for Xichen?" Nie Mingjue asks again.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, averting his eyes.

“…Are you hiding?” Nie Mingjue says after a pause. Lan Wangji stiffens where he’s standing, his hand tightening around the door. He’s not- it’s not like he’s afraid of the Jin disciples, he just needs a moment to get some peace and quiet and- “I get it if you are, honestly. I know I am, at least.”

“You’re… hiding?” Lan Wangji blinks, confused.

Nie Mingjue sighs and moves towards his brother’s bed to drop on it with a groan. “I shouldn’t, but I hate this place,” he says. “It’s all the pretending, the gossip, the having to put on a smile while I’m wondering what Jin Guangshan is trying to play me for this time-“ he stops for a moment and rises on his elbows to frown at him. “What are you doing over there? Get over here.”

“That’s- that’s Xiongzhan’s bed,” Lan Wangji says, still hesitating by the door.

 “I’m his fated and you’re his brother, it’s our bed.” Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes, and waits until Lan Wangji moves slowly to sit next to him. “Huaisang wasn’t with you?”

“…At first,” Lan Wangji admits. He knows Nie Mingjue well enough to know there’s little Huaisang could do to get in real trouble with him. “But he wandered off.”

“Hm. He likes it here,” Nie Mingjue says, rolling his eyes again; Lan Wangji feels the corner of his mouth twitch at the sullenness in his voice. “Well- we just need to hold on for two more days. The moment the conference is over, I’m flying out to Qinghe. You can ride on Baxia with me, and Xichen and Huaisang can stay here and be polite and sociable all they want.”

Lan Wangji huffs in quiet amusement, and Nie Mingjue rises on his elbows again.

“Hey, that’s a smile, isn’t it?” he asks, sounding so elated Lan Wangji feels his ears grow warm. “It is! I knew I’d find someone who hated this place as much as I did someday, you really don’t disappoint, Didi.”

Lan Wangji considers the words. Knowing someone else dislikes the lies and pretensions saturating the very air at the Jin compound is almost enough to soothe his nerves- someone else sees through the nasty miasma of this place, someone blunt and honest that the gods thought was good enough to be a match for his brother, so clearly this isn’t just a case of Lan Wangji being impossible.

As for the title… Nie Mingjue doesn’t use it often, and it still feels a little weird when he does. Not bad, Lan Wangji thinks, but rather- rather like there’s someone out there who cares for him as much as his brother does, or like walking into his brother room expecting it to be empty, and finding out it still feels like a safe space with the other teen there.

He looks sideways at him to find that Nie Mingjue has laid back on the bed again, his arms folded behind his head and the frown on his brow smoothed out, like Lan Wangji’s presence was soothing enough to disperse the bad mood that Koi Tower inflicted on him.

Lan Wangji looks back up at the ceiling, feeling himself relax against the too-soft mattress.

“Da-ge doesn’t disappoint either.”

🐇🐇🐇

“Wangji, come with me,” Nie Mingjue says, and Lan Wangji nods curtly before following, ignoring both Wei Ying’s burning stare on the side of his face and the burning on the left side of his chest as he follows deeper into the Unclean Realm.

“Were you attacked on the way here?” Nie Mingjue asks as soon as they get to his office. Lan Wangji, as usual, appreciates that he doesn’t bother with small-talk before bringing up the real issue. “Asides from that little snake you came to drop at my door of course.”

“Mn, during a night hunt at mount Dafan,” Lan Wangji nods. “A Wen dire eagle. Huaisang wasn’t hurt.”

“I know he wouldn’t be hurt if you’re around.” Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Xichen sent me a message.”

Lan Wangji feels a pang of nerves pinching in his stomach, and he straightens up on his seat. “Is Xiongzhang alright?”

Nie Mingjue nods.

“He’s alright, but- apparently Wen Chao dropped by the Cloud Recesses again after you left. Made some threatening implications about you,” he grunts. Lan Wangji arches an unimpressed eyebrow, and Nie Mingjue gives an amused, proud chuckle. “My thoughts exactly. In any case, Xichen asked that I sent you back home as soon as possible if I saw you.”

Lan Wangji considers these words- there’s no way his brother wouldn’t think him capable of protecting himself, so why…?

“Wei Ying and I are supposed to be looking for an artifact,” he says quietly, then feels the tips of his ears warm up under his brother in law’s knowing gaze. It’s- he would know, wouldn’t he? What it feels like to be parted from your fated, the reluctance built at your very soul, like something in you became whole when you found them and now you’re attempting to tear it apart again.

“Humor your brother, will you?” Nie Mingjue asks with uncharacteristic gentleness after another moment. “He worries.”

“He shouldn’t,” Lan Wangj says, perhaps a bit stubbornly.

“But he does. It’s what older brothers do,” Nie MIngjue shrugs. “I’d say you’d understand if you had a younger sibling of your own, but I get the feeling you won’t be short of worry, with that feisty soulmate of yours.”

“Da-ge…” Lan Wangji grunts, very much not sulking despite Nie Mingjue’s answering chuckle.

“It’s an informed opinion,” Nie Mingjue says. “I got at least two very detailed recountings of his adventures at the Cloud Recesses lectures.”

Lan Wangji lets his eyes fall to the table between them, ruminating his next question for a moment.

“Da-ge doesn’t think it’s… an odd match?” he asks finally. He himself thinks it’s odd, and at the same time it feels so natural and right that it scares him like nothing has before. Wei Ying is nothing like him, a free spirit if there’s ever been one, while Lan Wangji’s painfully chained down to reality and duty. Being with him is infuriating, but it also feels like taking a sip of something forbidden and yearning for more, like he’s drunk on the freedom written in the gleam of Wei Ying’s deep grey eyes.

“As long as he’s good for you,” Nie Mingjue shrugs, his mouth still curled in a satisfied, smug smile. “Personally, I think the gods are having a bit of a laugh at your uncle’s expense. He must be thinking I was a star pupil during my days at the lectures, considering what you brought in.”

“He’s… not very happy,” Lan Wangji concedes. Nie Mingjue simply waves the matter away like a pesky fly.

“He’ll get over it after a while. Now, fly over there after dinner, will you?” he says. “Go keep my fated happy and I’ll make sure yours gets delivered safe and sound to the Lotus Pier.”

🐇🐇🐇

The Cloud Recesses is calm as ever, but after their recent encounter Lan Wangji finds himself missing his fated a little more than usual, which means the evening has found him having tea with his brother at the rabbits’ pen.

In his customary manner, Lan Xichen seems to have sensed his need for peace and simply meditates quietly, letting the rabbits roam over him. He looks almost focused enough, but Lan Wangji still has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes when the sound of heavy footsteps on the grass reaches them, and his brother visibly straightens up.

Nie Mingjue comes towards the rabbit pen a few moments later, holding on his left hand a bouquet of snow-white peonies tied with a bright golden ribbon, standing by the edge of the clearing to watch them in silence.

“Are the Lan disciples so well trained that the Twin Jades have to resort to teaching rabbits to cultivate now?” he asks, his gruff voice tinted in that special sort of gentleness Lan Wangji has only ever heard him use towards his brother.

“One has to make do, when their favorite guest disciple no longer comes to the yearly lectures,” Lan Xichen smiles, cracking an eye open to look at his fated. Lan Wangji holds back a sigh- watching them flirt is always mortifying, but today it only makes him miss Wei Ying even more. It feels unfair that the two of them never got to have this, and it’s made even more bitter by the knowledge that it’s all Lan Wangji’s fault, for not speaking up when he had the chance.

He climbs to his feet along with his brother, as Nie Mingjue steps into the pen to hand over the peonies.

“I will take my leave, Xiongzhang, Da-ge,” Lan Wangji nods politely, before turning to walk back to the Jingshi.

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Wangji,” Nie Mingjue says before he can take another step, and Lan Wangji frowns, turning back around to watch them. His brother looks as intrigued as he himself feels, so this must be something Nie Mingjue didn’t discuss with him before- “Some of my men saw you wandering Yiling.”

…Ah.

Lan Wangji straightens up, his hands balling into fists where they rest behind his back. “This one did not realize he was forbidden from travelling.”

“But you were not just travelling, were you?” Nie Mingjue says, turning to face him fully while Lan Wangji tries to ignore his brother’s crestfallen look.

“Mingue, it’s been hard for him to-“ Lan Xichen starts, but Lan Wangji cuts him off before he can finish his pitying sentence.

“I was not.”

Nie Mingjue shakes his head slightly, like Lan Wangji’s being a stubborn child being cheeky on purpose.

“Wangji, you need to look after yourself. Wei Wuxian is clearly doing as much,” Nie Mingjue says. “He was at least decent enough to not involve you in his profanities, you don’t have to sully yourself by-“

“Why is it-“ Lan Wangji speaks over him, “-that my fated must be forever marked by what he did to survive the war, when yours is praised for the same reason?”

Both of them recoil as though they’ve been slapped, Lan Wangji notes with a pang of satisfaction. Serves them right for their hypocrisy, he thinks vindictively.

“Wangji, A-Yao did only what was necessary to gain enough intel for us,” Lan Xichen says, a small scowl marring his smooth brow. “He did not-“

“Hurt anyone?” Lan Wangji arches an eyebrow. “Working under Wen Ruohan?”

“Devolve into demonic cultivation,” Nie Mingjue growls. “Wei Wuxian let the Burial Mounds nest inside him; he would’ve killed everyone at the banquet in Koi Tower if you hadn’t intervened- he’s a walking curse on the verge of snapping at any given time.”

Lan Wangji’s stomach burns as he seethes with barely contained rage- what right does Nie Mingjue of all people have to reproach him for being lenient towards his soulmate? Wasn’t he the one that was so heartbroken by all of Jin Guangyao’s ploys and treacheries? Wasn’t he the one that dubbed his own fated a golden snake, and that now brings flowers to remind his brother of him, like the man is some sort of god-given miracle?!

“At least Wei Ying is honest,” he says after taking a moment to compose himself. “I don’t have to worry that he’s lying to me. Can Da-ge say the same?”

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen snaps, his paling face contorted into a concerned frown, but Lan Wangji doesn’t get to see it for long before a red-faced Nie Mingjue’s stomping towards him.

“Meng Yao ceased with his schemes after the war ended,” he snarls.

“Or so Da-ge wants to believe,” Lan Wangji regards him as frostily as he can when everything in him is itching for a fight. It wouldn’t do to duel his brother’s fated, it wouldn’t do to duel Da-ge. “Jin Guangyao knew about the prisoner camps-“

“Are we supposed to feel guilty for a bunch of genocidal dogs, then?!” Nie Mingjue snaps, and all Lan Wangji can think of is A-Yuan’s little face, glowing in delight at his new grass butterfly. “Your fated’s mind got poisoned, but we need not play along with a madman’s delusions!”

“Nie Mingjue would know about those!” Lan Wangi bites back, and he sees Nie Mingjue’s face pale before reddening again, sees his brother’s eyes widening at the edge of his vision. He stills for a moment, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. “I will take my leave now. Xiongzhang. Nie-zongzhu.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning away, and he’s not surprised when none of them makes a move to follow him, but he can’t for the life of him figure out how he feels about it.

🐇🐇🐇

The wounds aren’t too bad today. Sure, Lan Wangji’s still recovering from his mad flight to Yiling half a year ago, but at least physically speaking, nowadays he has more good days than bad ones.

His mental state is an entirely different song- he despises waking up every morning and remembering Wei Ying is gone. That he could’ve stopped it. That A-Yuan- that Sizhui has to live here in hiding instead of happily running around their little village in the Burial Mounds with his Xian-gege because of him.

Still… Sizhui’s here, and Lan Wangji has to look after him, no matter that looking at the child reignites the fire of his grief in his stomach, the reminder that in a better -not easier, but intrinsically better- life than this, he would’ve helped build a home for him. He would’ve been the his father not in grief like now, but in love. This is the life they have to live due to his cowardice, and he’s got a responsibility to his child to make it the best it can be.

Right now, he finishes fixing his outer robes, and limps towards the Jingshi’s open door, where Shizhui’s looking at him with big, excited eyes.

“It’s a good day for A-die?” he asks, his little voice still shy at the form of address.

Lan Wangji smiles softly and feels a surge of warmth in his chest at the way Sizhui’s frame relaxes. Just like his brother and fated, his son seems to have developed the ability to read Lan Wangji’s imperceptible reactions.

“It’s always a good day for Sizhui,” he says, holding back a wince as he reaches down to pat the crown of Sizhui’s head. “We can go for a walk.”

He’s an incredibly gentle child, Lan Wangji thinks as he watches Sizhui shoot him little sideways looks to try and match his pace and make sure there are no obstacles in his way. If Wei Ying implanted some of his mischievousness in him, it hasn’t yet had time to come out.

“How are Sizhui’s lessons going?” he asks as they get closer to the communal gardens of the private wing of the compound.

“Bofu says this one is prog- porge-“ Sizhui scowls, Lan Wangji feels his lips twitch. “Doing good. I painted a rabbit yesterday.”

“I’m sure it’s a nice rabbit,” Lan Wangji nods solemnly. “I would like to see it.”

“A-die would?” Sizhui spins around to look at him with wide eyes. “I’ll bring it!”

And he sprints away before Lan Wangji can get in another word, artfully pivoting around a corner before an incoming older disciple can see him and lectures him for running. Figuring that he’s got no other choice but to wait, he takes advantage of the break from putting on a front and lets himself slouch a little to relieve the pressure on his healing back- only to straighten up right away at his brother’s sudden voice.

“Wangji feels good today?” Lan Xichen asks.

He turns around slowly, tensing up when he notices Nie Mingjue standing by his brother’s side, studiously avoiding Lan Wangji’s face.

“Xiongzhang, Nie-zongzhu.” He nods politely. It still feels off to call him that, but they have both made their choices. “Good enough for a walk.”

The other two stay silent for a long moment until what Lan Wangji could swear is a discreet kick from his brother, after which Nie Mingjue clears his throat and looks at some point by Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“It’s good to hear Lan Wangji’s state is improving,” he grunts. Then after another long pause, he adds, “In Qinghe we say scars are worth bearing if they were worth earning.”

Lan Wangji nods again, watching him silently. He feels guilty, if his brother is to be believed. Apparently Nie Mingjue intended to bring Wei Ying back alive, but his fated destroyed his amulet and killed himself before he could be caught.

It doesn’t fix a thing, but Lan Wangji finds himself wondering if Nie Mingjue didn’t intend to bring his fated back as a sort of apology for trying to convince Lan Wangji to forget about him. His brother in law can be stubborn, but he’s shown again and again that he’s able to change his mind when it comes to those important to him, and he’s now asking himself if perhaps this wouldn’t have been another one of those cases, had Wei Ying not chosen to end it on his terms.

“I-“

“A-die, I’m back!” Sizhui’s little voice comes from behind him, and Lan Wangji tenses up as quickly as his brother does. He’s not carrying Bichen right now, reasoning that he and his son would be safe in the middle of the Cloud Recesses and he could forego bringing along a weapon he’s too injured to wield properly anyways. “I brough the painting, I- oh. Good afternoon, Bofu.”

Lan Xichen clears his throat, awkwardly, returning the child’s bow with a careful look at his husband. “Good afternoon, Sizhui.”

There’s a tense moment that Lan Wangji would very much like to think goes over the child’s head, but he knows, he just knows Sizhui’s attuned to resentful energy in ways no one left alive is anymore, and the kid’s large grey eyes are nailed to Nie Mingjue.

“…This is your nephew?” Nie Mingjue asks after a moment, passing his gaze from Lan Xichen to Lan Wangji. “Your son?”

“He is, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen says quietly.

Lan Wangji nods.

Sizhui bows politely. “This one is Lan Yuan, courtesy name Lan Sizhui,” he says, and Lan Wangji’s fists unclench slightly when he introduces himself by his new name.

Nie Mingjue watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He has to know, Lan Wangji thinks- the Nie and the Wen mingled often due to their geographic locations, he has to recognize child's features, the warmer hue of his skin-

And then, Nie Mingjue bows back.

“It’s nice to meet my husband’s nephew, Lan Sizhui,” he says. “My name is Nie Mingjue, I am the leader of the Qinghe Nie. Your father and uncle are very dear to me; if Lan Sizhui ever needs help, he can come to me.”

Lan Wangji sees his brother’s eyes widening and feels his own do the same. There’s still some bitterness at the thought that so much heartbreak could’ve been avoided if this leniency had come before it was too late, but this is as much a confirmation of his earlier thoughts as he’s ever going to get.

“It’s nice to meet Nie-zongzhu too,” Sizhui smiles. “Welcome to the Cloud-“

“Da-bo,” Lan Wangji interrupts, pushing his hoarse voice through a tight throat. “Nie-zongzhu is your Da-bo, Sizhui.”

“Oh,” Sizhui frowns a little, seemingly unaware of the thickening mood above his head, of Lan Wangji ignoring his brother’s gaze while Nie Mingjue looks like he’s been doused with ice-cold water. “Alright. It’s nice to meet Da-bo, then.”

“It’s- nice to meet my nephew too,” Nie Migjue says, his voice as strained as Lan Wangji’s own.

Sizhui smiles again and raises a rolled-up paper tied with a string. “Does Da-bo want to look at the rabbit I painted? Bofu already saw it, but I wanted to show A-die.”

Nie Mingjue snorts, still looking a little bit stunned.

“Alright, little rabbit. Show this uncle your painting.”

🐇🐇🐇

He shouldn’t be out at this hour, Lan Wangji thinks, but he’s missing his husband and in the grand scheme of things he figures a nighttime walk is the lesser of the broken rules in his ledgers. The Cloud Recesses looks even more ethereal bathed in silence and moonlight, dripping with silver and exuding a sense of beauty that Koi Tower with all its gold could never hope to achieve.

Given the time he doesn’t expect to find anyone roaming around, since the juniors are over at Yunmeng visiting Jin Rulan. Which of course means he also does not expect to find a two meters tall fierce corpse heading towards the gate to the back mountain.

“Is it wise for Da-ge to be outside?” he asks, feeling a pang of satisfaction at his flinching before he comes to a stop by the man’s side.

“So it's Da-ge again?” Nie Mingjue asks, arching an eyebrow.

Lan Wangji shrugs. “Things change.”

“They certainly do,” Nie Mingjue sighs, stepping past the gate and waiting just for long enough for Lan Wangji to join him before he moves again. “Honestly, I was curious to see if your uncle would raise a fuss about a fierce corpse walking around the Cloud Recesses, or if you and your brother finally broke him.”

Lan Wangji feels his lips twitch. “Wen Ning was the first fierce corpse to be allowed in. If anyone broke Shufu, it was Sizhui.”

Nie Mingjue gives a low, amused grunt of a chuckle. “Tough times ahead for the cultivation world; the head of the Lanling Jin is far too spoiled, and the future head of the Lan is far too good at getting what he wants. A deadly combination.”

“Hm. The cultivation world survived Da-ge’s marriage well enough, and the circumstances were similar,” Lan Wangji says.

“Lan Wangji, are you implying I spoil your brother?” Nie Mingjue snorts, then chuckles again at Lan Wangji’s pointed silence. He then adds, giving Lan Wangji a sideways look, “you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

Lan Wanghi shrugs again. “Like I told Xiongzhang, Wei Ying is dead too.”

“I guess he is,” Nie Mingjue nods with a thoughtful scowl.

“Xiongzhang and I are both very lucky that Wei Ying developed his cultivation path, hm?” Lan Wangji asks casually.

“Yes Wangji, we’re very lucky your fated invented improved demonic cultivation,” Nie Mingjue says. His voice is dry, but it sounds tired rather than hostile.

“Xiongzhang and I would be alone otherwise,” he adds, and the vindictive, satisfied spark lights again in his stomach at his brother in law’s groan. “Da-ge must be very happy.”

“Don’t push it,” he grunts, and a long stretch of road goes by in a comfortable silence, before he speaks again. “How is he? Wei Wuxian, I mean.”

“Adapting. Things change.”

“They certainly do,” Nie Mingjue repeats. More silence. “You look happy.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji nods. “Does Da-ge disapprove still?”

It doesn’t matter too much- Wei Ying is his husband now, and he won’t allow for the world to separate them again.

Nie Mingjue gives a long suffering sigh.

“If I’m honest, Didi- I’ve been rethinking my stance since Jiang Wanyin started showing up at my door.”

Lan Wangji gives a solemn nod in agreement.

Chapter Text

“It’s just… it’s so quiet here,” Nie Huaisang sighs, looking out the Jingshi’s window at the carefully trimmed gardens of the Cloud Recesses. “I love it.”

“Nie Huaisang doesn’t miss his home?” Lan Wangji asks, arching an eyebrow.

Nie Huaisang scrunches his nose and pokes the tip of his tongue out. “Wangji should just call me Huaisang. We’re going to be brothers when Da-ge and Xichen-ge get married.”

Lan Wangji feels the tips of his mouth curving down. He’s still not entirely thrilled with his brother marrying his soulmate, no matter that there’s still years before that and that Lan Xichen has assured him time and time again that he’ll never leave the Cloud Recesses, married or not.

“And I mean- I miss A-Niang and A-Die, but not the rest… It’s just- it’s all so noisy. The disciples are always screaming when they cultivate, and then we have a lot of demons and monsters trying to break in past the barriers- and everything is grey!” Nie Huaisang scowls as though he’s personally offended by his birthplace’s drab coloration. “The sky’s actually blue here! Back home it’s always so murky from the volcano’s smoke… I should paint some views of this place so I can put them on my wall and pretend I’m here.”

“Nie Huaisang can visit whenever,” Lan Wangji mutters, carefully ignoring the other boy’s hopeful look even as his ears warm up. “He’s well-behaved and doesn’t break the rules.”

If anything, Nie Huaisang is a little like his own brother, dancing around the rules with a subtlety Lan Wangji can’t muster the energy for, when it’s a lot simpler to follow the precepts as they are. And he’s one of those people that doesn’t make Lan Wangji feel like- like he’s unapproachable.

The other disciples his age, they address him as the little master or the Second Jade, they lower their gazes and bow and hurry along the road muttering something or another about not wanting to keep him, and Lan Wangji can’t remember the last time he had a conversation with any of them. Nie Huaisang approached him casually from that first visit a year ago, seeming to enjoy Lan Wangji’s silence and the quiet walks around the Cloud Recesses, sharing stories of the Unclean Realm whenever he feels like it, and it feels… relaxing. Like Lan Wangji doesn’t need to put on a front to try and make the other child like him, but also doesn’t have to beg for his company- like he said, they will one day be brothers, like it or not, and there’s something freeing about it.

Nie Huaisang nudges his shoulder, just a fleeting point of contact that’s not enough to make him uncomfortable but that drives it home that he’s not intimidated by him, that he feels comfortable in his presence.

“Wangji should help me pick out the best landscapes to paint- I’m sure you know the prettiest places in the Cloud Recesses.”

After a moment, Lan Wangji nudges him back.

“Mn.”

🐇🐇🐇

It’s the first day of the lectures, and Lan Wangji finds himself hurrying back to the Jingshi as quickly as he can without running as soon as he shoddily completes his afternoon chores in a rush. His odd behavior will for sure be noticed, but he doesn’t want to see anyone, much less risk running into him until he can figure out what he’s going to do.

He stands before the polished silver mirror, and gently moves his robes aside until he gets a glimpse of the blood-red lotus on his chest. It’s not burning like it did last night, as he tried to remain calm so neither his brother nor his uncle would notice his uncharacteristic fidgeting as Lan Wangji stood side by side with his fated, theorizing about fierce corpses and curses.

This is wrong. It has to be a mistake, there’s no other explanation, and-

There’s a knock at the Jingshi’s door, and Lan Wangji freezes.

It’s fine, he thinks as he moves to slide the door open. It’s alright. If it really is him, Lan Wangji will just send him away because there’s nothing to discuss.

“Good afternoon,” Huaisang smiles up at him, that cat-that-ate-the-cream that Lan Wangji knows usually precedes Nie Mingjue folding on something or another. In the hand not holding his painted fan he’s carrying a little basket that lets out thin rivulets of steam. “Wangji must be feeling indisposed, coming to hide right before a meal. Luckily I brought him dinner!”

“Not hiding,” Lan Wangji grunts, intending to cut the conversation short so he can go back to- not panicking.

“Oh, that’s great then,” Huaisang’s smile widens. “I wanted to talk about my friend Wei Wuxian. Did you know he found his soulmate last night?”

Lan Wangji’s eye twitches. “I’m busy.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” And he slides the door shut again. It’s of course terribly impolite, but Huaisang won’t care, he’s done worse.

“Hm. That’s a pity,” says Huaisang’s voice behind the closed door. “But it’s alright. I can just go and have dinner with Xichen-ge then, chat a little…”

Lan Wangji slides the door open, glaring. Huaisang smiles.

“Thought so.” And he steps into the Jingshi. Defeated, Lan Wangji shuts the door again and moves to where Huaisang is already arranging food on the table.

“It means nothing,” Lan Wangji grunts through gritted teeth.

Huaisang nods sagely. “Sure it doesn’t. It would only mean something if you liked Wei-xiong, right?”

“I do not want a soulmate,” Lan Wangji says curtly, sitting down and focusing on not cracking the rice-filled porcelain bowl he grabs from the table.

“Not even if it’s Wei Wuxian?” Huaisang’s clear green eyes regard him with amusement over the rim of his fan, and Lan Wangji narrows his eyes.

“He’s a troublemaker,” is all he says. It’s all that matters, isn’t it? He can’t bring someone like that into the sect, whether he likes them or not, Wei W- he clearly doesn’t respect the Lan or their precepts, or even the concept of hospitality and being a proper guest.

“He is!” Huaisang nods animatedly. “He’s so fun, Wangji, you have no idea. Of course, he’s also quite handsome, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji ignores his warming ears and tries to not think of the other teenager bathed in moonlight. Not his narrow waist and firm, angular shoulders, nor his long legs stretched over the roof tiles. Not his neck stretched delicately and his pitch-black hair cascading over his shoulder, tied with careless abandon as though the man knows he does not need elaborate trinkets and hairdos to be stunning, or his rosy lips wrapped around the lip of the wine bottle as his mischievous grey eyes teased at him.

“Do not value beauty over wisdom, discipline and integrity,” he recites the precept he repeated in his mind last night, about a hundred times before he finally fell asleep.

“Of course. Wangji’s soulmate should not only be pretty,” Huaisang nods. “Kind, smart, honest and strong…”

“Huaisang likes him a lot,” Lan Wangji huffs, and Huaisang snorts with laughter.

“I do! But don’t worry, my sights are set elsewhere,” he says with a smug little smile.

“I’m not worried,” Lan Wangji bites out.

“It would be fine if you were, after that first meeting,” Huaisang shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s okay, not everyone can be Da-ge and Er-ge… unless you prefer that, of course! A swordfight by moonlight does seem a lot more like Wangji’s style.”

“Huaisang,” Lan Wangji grunts.

“Hm?”

“No talking during meals.”

“Of course, Wangji.” Huaisang smiles.

🐇🐇🐇

“Not that I’m complaining,” Huaisang says after the servants set up the tray with drinks and refreshments, and leave the his pavilion. “But Wangji doesn’t often visit the Unclean Realm, at least not lately. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I’m travelling,” Lan Wangji shrugs, leaning forward to receive the cup of tea Huaisang pours for him.

“Hmm… May this wanderlust have something to do with the fact that Da-ge and San-ge left this morning for the Cloud Recesses?” Huaisang asks, sipping at his own tea.

Lan Wangji gives an evasive shrug; he’s not about to admit that the thought of having to avoid his brother’s husbands for three months was enough to send him flying, despite the fact that every moment spent away from the Cloud Recesses is a moment he has to fight himself to not point the tip of Bichen towards Yiling again.

“Nie-zongzhu, did he tell you-“

“About your little shouting match?” Huaisang cuts him off, arching an eyebrow at the title. “He did. Or rather, he told San-ge and I eavesdropped. He was doing the mopey Da-ge thing where he feels like he’s wrong but doesn’t think that he is, so he just ignores the matter entirely.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hums as neutrally as he can. He’s not entirely pleased to hear Jin Guangyao knows of his private business, but it brings with it the vindication of knowing Nie Mingjue is at least remorseful. “He badmouthed Wei Ying.”

“I can imagine that did not go over too well,” Huaisang sighs. “They’ll stop talking about him at some point.”

“They’re lies,” Lan Wangji says through gritted teeth. His insides burn whenever he has to listen to those ignorant, pathetic excuses of cultivators speaking of his fated like they know him, like they understand what he did and why and have any reason to judge him for it, when not even Lan Wangji himself presumes that level of familiarity with the other part of his soul.

Across the table, Huaisang rolls his eyes. “I know they’re lies, Wangji. I was there during the banquet at Koi Tower, and I’ve known Wei Wuxian for years. Wei-xiong is many things including too smart for his big mouth, but above all he’s good, isn’t he?”

And just like that, the tight knot of worry in Lan Wangji’s stomach loosens up a little; here’s someone else that knows Wei Ying, someone who isn’t as quick to judge his actions as Lan Wangji himself was at first.

His fated is not alone.

“Hm… didn’t expect Huaisang to think that, with Nie-zongzhu’s position,” he says cautiously.

 “Da-ge usually means good unless he’s yelling at me,” Huaisang shrugs, “he knows people can have bad soulmates, it happened to my mother. He’s just worried Wangji could be in the same situation.”

“But I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he nods. “But yes, it’s not an opinion I get to voice too often. I think I can really only discuss it with Wangji, and-“

“Huaisang?” says a curt, sleep-hoarse voice from behind the doors separating this room from the private chambers in Huaisang’s pavilions, a second before those doors open to show Jiang Wanyin in casual grey robes and putting his hair up in his usual style, tying it with a silver ribbon Lan Wangji is pretty sure is the one his brother and brother in law bought for Huaisang years ago at the marketplace in Gusu. “Where- oh. I didn’t know you had visitors.”

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji greets as dryly as possible. Wei Ying didn't seem to harbor any resentment against his brother, but this is still the man that kicked him out of the Yunmeng Jiang.

“Lan Wangji,” the man responds in kind.

“Nie Huaisang,” Huaisang says absentmindedly, twisting the end of the purple ribbon in his hair around the tip of a finger. “Wanyin seemed tired from his trip. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Hm,” Jiang Wanyin grunts, still glaring at Lan Wangji. “I’ll see you later. When you’re free.”

And he whirls around to exit the pavilion, leaving behind a Lan Wangji that is both very proud and very resentful of his self-control. He redirects his glare to Huaisang, who's looking at him with an amused smile.

"What? You thought you were the only one that kept track of when my brother is and isn't home?" he says, lazily waving the fan before his face. "Wangji's just sulking, but don't worry- we might still get your pretty lotus man back."

🐇🐇🐇

It feels like an eternity has gone by, and Lan Wangji finds that he often has to remind himself that his brother in law has only been dead for a little over two months.

The cultivation world mourns for the Red Blade Master while a few chosen ones mourn for Nie Mingjue, and all Lan Wangji can think of is that maybe he did curse him all those years ago, when he was a scared child so afraid of his brother finding his soulmates.

"I'm sorry I came over unannounced," Huaisang says as they walk down the carefully maintained trails of the Cloud Recesses. his voice is quiet in a way it's never been before, not like he wants to be discreet but rather like he doesn't see the point in talking. "It gets overwhelming sometimes, and Zonghui's handling everything at the moment, so it's not like I'm even necessary."

Lan Wangji doesn't respond immediately, taking a moment to will his words out, now that they're needed.

"Huaisang can visit whenever he wants," he says in the end; he remembers having said something similar when he was younger, but that feels like an eternity ago. Huaisang must remember it though, if the twitch of his lips is any indication. "He's home here."

Huaisang's chin trembles but he keeps his bearing, which is a bit of a surprise given that Lan Wangji has seen him cry over injured birds.

Grief has a way of leaving you dry of even tears, he's found.

"...Wanyin asked if I wanted to get married," Huaisang says in a mere whisper a few steps later, and Lan Wangji trips over his own feet a little. Of course Jiang Wanyin would have both the audacity and the timing.

"Right now?" is all he asks, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Huaisang nods. "Without- the Qinghe Nie have no ties to the other clans now. And with me at the head, it's only a matter of time before someone thinks we're easy picking and tries something," he sighs. "They'd think it twice if they were to offend two clans instead of one, I think?"

"Death doesn't break strong ties," Lan Wangji says.

He'd know.

Huaisang seems to sense the underlying sadness below his words, and gives him a pained smile.

"I told him no anyways," he says after a moment. "It means a lot that he offered, with his parent's history, but I can't bring myself to imagine my wedding without... yes."

"Mn," Lan Wangji nods slowly. "We're here."

"Huh?" Huaisang blinks, looking up in confusion. "Wh- oh."

Before them lays the quiet meadow where they built the rabbit pens, with Sizhui sitting straight in the middle surrounded by critters and setting out a tea service before he seems to sense their presence and looks up.

Lan Wangji's heart aches- his son inherited Wei Ying's gentle heart, and it shows on the kind smile he sends Huaisang's way.

"Good evening, Nie-shushu," Sizhui says, bowing. "I couldn't round them all up, but there's most of them here. They're very good company when one is feeling down, I've found."

"Hah-" Huaisang lets out a strangled chuckle, dazedly opening his arms to receive the rabbit Sizhui brings over -the fat, lazy one that's the only one so far to tolerate Jingyi's overenthusiastic petting. "Wangji has raised a very kind young man."

Sizhui merely gives him another sad smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder before he bows to both of them and turns to leave.

"He really is a very kind young man," Huaisang says quietly as he sits before the tea tray with the rabbit held against his chest.

Lan Wangji nods solemnly.

"Caring and diligent,'" he says; he's not about to downplay how proud he is of his son. "I come here when I miss Wei Ying."

Huaisang's shoulders shake with another little broken chuckle, and his eyes fill up with moisture before his gaze drops to the animal held carefully on his lap.

"We're not expected back until dinner time," Lan Wangji says simply.

And Huaisang cries.

🐇🐇🐇

“It still feels so weird,” Wei Ying comments, his voice full of wonder as they traverse the Unclean Realm, nodding politely at the disciples that bow at Lan Wangji but that don’t seem to know just who he’s accompanied by. “You can really just walk in here unannounced, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji nods. “Wei Ying could too. He’s my husband.”

“Ahhh, I am, am I not? This one should really start taking advantage of his handsome, important husband.” Wei Ying leans heavily against his arm, the back of a slender hand pressed to his forehead in an affected gesture, before leaning up to whisper in his ear. “And then I can pay Lan Zhan back at night, hmm?”

“At night?” Lan Wangji says simply, injecting it with just enough teasing curiosity that Wei Ying lets out a delighted squeal.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan! Can the mighty Hanguang-jun not keep his hands off his husband?” he asks, practically hanging off of Lan Wangji’s frame by now. “Will you take me out there in the open, where anyone could walk by and see us?”

“No,” Lan Wangji interrupts immediately, something hot burning in his stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing Wei Ying like that. “Just me.”

Wei Ying’s smirk softens into a pleased smile, even as a gentle flush takes over his face. “Alright, I- yes. Only my fated.” He chuckles. “Alright, where is he?”

“This way,” Lan Wangji says, pulling him along. The pavilion they come to is lavishly decorated and sweet-smelling with floral incenses, as usual, a few servants here and there refilling flower vases and dusting the place. The owner is comfortably reclined in a beautiful wooden divan, surrounded by plush silk cushions, and dressed in rich silvers and greens.

“I feel like I should warn you Wanyin is here,” Huaisang says, not lifting his eyes from where he’s reading what looks to be a letter.

“Oh, that’s actually perfect you see, Lan Zhan brought me,” Wei Ying responds with a mischievous smile. Lan Wangji would’ve brought him anyways, but he can’t deny that the prospect of driving Jiang Wanyin away is an unexpected extra. “I’ll go find my dear shidi, have  fun you two!” 

And he skips away happily, set on troubling his brother.

“Wangji looks happy.” Huaisang carefully rolls his reading and sits up. “And so does Wei-xiong. I’m glad.”

“What about Huaisang?” Lan Wangji asks, sitting on the other side of the table.

The other grumbles. “Huaisang could do without certain correspondence.”

And suddenly, it’s not hard to imagine just what he was reading.

“I thought they went back unopened,” he says carefully. “Xiongzhang has mentioned it in passing.”

Huaisang rolls his eyes. “I only look like an idiot, Wangji, I seal them again and I do a good job of it.”

Lan Wangji mulls this over- his brother has told him of Jin Guangyao’s deep hurt whenever another one of his letters comes back, how the lack of an answer seems to pain him more than angry words ever could, and he thinks this might be yet another calculated move.

When did Huaisang become like this?

Sure, he’s always been smarter than he lets on, or Lan Wangji wouldn’t have tolerated him, future in-law or not, but- had he missed any signs, focused as he was on his cultivation, on avoiding any possibility of finding his soulmate and then on mourning his untimely death? Huaisang always did have the Venerated Triad wrapped around his little finger, but- just when did everything start dancing on the palm of his hand, and when did Huaisang stopped worrying about using people -Lan Wangji sometimes finds himself resentful still, that he was just another one of the man’s pawns- in his games? When did he start focusing on how to better wound them instead?

Part of him wonders- how far would he himself have gone if it had been his brother’s body desecrated instead?

“Wan-?”

“Why read them?” he cuts Huaisang off mid-question with one of his own. If he knows Jin Guangyao is hurt far deeper by the perceived indifference, why hurt himself by reading these letters from the man that took his brother?

Huaisang averts his eyes and looks, by lack of a better word, guilty, before he gives a sharp shrug.

“Maybe I want to see what he has to say for himself,” he says. “What he thinks would justify what he did. How he hurt my brother.”

Said brother, Lan Wangji knows, currently lives happily with his husbands in the Cloud Recesses, including the much hated letter writer, so he can extrapolate that what Huaisang actually means is ‘how he hurt me’.

“Huaisang worked very hard, but Da-ge forgave his husband in the end,” Lan Wangji says, arching an eyebrow. “Is he not annoyed?”

Another sharp shrug, accompanied by the slightest hint of a pout Lan Wangji has seen through the years.

“Da-ge can make his own stupid choices,” he grumbles. “As for S- Jin Guangyao, well- we’re even.”

The ‘for now” is implied, and well- Lan Wangji isn’t about to start nitpicking at the convictions of a man who had no qualms rising a man from the dead to carry out his revenge plan, not even if said plan brought him back his fated.

Lan Wangji clears his throat.

“I’m glad Huaisang is happy,” he says just as Jiang Wanyin’s angry shouting and Wei Ying’s amused retorts start growing closer.

Chapter Text

The Cloud Recesses is peaceful and beautiful at night, bathed in the cold, ethereal light of the moon and shrouded in silence broken only here and there by singing crickets.

The heavy knot that weighed his stomach down the whole day has dissolved now; the Jiang disciples have all arrived, and he hasn’t felt any different. His brother had suggested that he stay in the Jingshi for a few days, or even go stay at the Unclean Realm with the Qinghe Nie until the end of the lessons, but Lan Wangji had declined.

He will not hide from the one the gods had the audacity to label his equal, won’t cower against the idea of them like a child shakes as their seniors tell ghost stories in the dark.

There’s a sound of sloshing liquid, and Lan Wangji looks up in time to see a silhouette sitting down on top of one of the pavilions. He silently unsheathes Bichen and moves toward the stranger, until he comes close enough that he can discern his features.

And Lan Wangji stops.

The man sitting on the roof is young, around his age. He has gently sun-kissed skin and long black hair tied up into a ponytail with a bright red ribbon. His lips are curled into a carefree smile as he- as he brings up a bottle of wine and takes a swig directly from its mouth. A single drop of wine runs out the corner of his lips, all the way down his jawline and along the tender pillar of his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows.

Lan Wangji feels his fist tighten around Bichen’s hilt, and his ears warm up even in the cool night breeze before he simply takes off with a leap to land before the- the intruder.

“Who are you?” he asks, pointing at his chest with the tip of his sheathed sword.

The teen looks down at the sword, then back up at him -his eye are large and grey, Lan Wangji’s brain supplies uselessly- before his still wet lips curl into a smile.

“Oh, hey! I’m Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian,” the menace says. “Me and my family were invited to the lectures, I’m the head disciple for the Yunmeng Jian-“

“Alcohol is forbidden," Lan Wangji cuts him off. "Guests must respect the rules."

The man laughs, and something tightens up in Lan Wangji's stomach- his voice is like a silver bell ringing. 

"You're so young, live a little! Come on, sit with me and I'll share it with you, it's really good wine!"

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to berate this Wei Wuxian again-

And that's when he notices his chest is burning. 

His mind comes to a screeching halt as he looks down at the other teen that's still smiling up at him, the moonlight gleaming gently off of his damp lower lip.

Lan Wangji had prepared for every eventuality regarding his potential soulmate, but the day's lack of events must've lulled him into a false sense of safety, because he has no idea how to proceed now.

So he does the only thing that makes some sense in his mind- unsheathe Bichen and attack.

🐇🐇🐇

Leaving the Unclean Realm feels... Wrong. 

Lan Wangji has rolled his eyes at it before, but now he genuinely can't understand how his brother can stand to be apart from Nie Mingjue, how can he tolerate not being by his side, not knowing if he's safe.

There are a lot of things he doesn't understand.

He knows about Huaisang's mother, and his own parents are an even closer example, and still Lan Wangji can't begin to think about-

Things feel right, now. Like he's found not a part of himself that he's missing but rather the part of him that he could never bring himself to bring about. Wei Ying is free in a way that leaves Lan Wangji's heart racing with a feeling he can't name, something not quite fear or excitement, but perfectly in-between. 

How could anyone experience this feeling when faced with their other half, and decide to mistreat or abandon them? How did his father stand seeing his mother wither away at the gentians house, a little more of her spirit whittled away every day just to keep her by his side?

"Hmmm, is that Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying's voice makes him stop on his walk towards the Unclean Realm's gates. When he looks up he finds the other teen sprawled on the main pavilion's ceiling, a gentle smile on his flushed face pointed down at him and a delicate-fingered hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle. "Are you leaving now?"

"Mn," Lan Wangji nods, jumping up to join him on the ceiling. "Xiongzhang called me back to the Cloud Recesses."

"Ah... That's not- I don't like that," Wei Ying grumbles; his smile melts away and Lan Wangji's stomach jumps up to his chest. "I want to keep traveling with Lan Zhan."

"It's... Good. To travel with Wei Ying," he says, and even though it's just a whisper in the night it feels as though he's yelled it out for all the Unclean Realm to hear. "We can do it again. Later."

"Promise?" Wei Ying asks, smiling again. "Just us?"

Lan Wangji's throat feels tight as he nods, like someone's choking him. 

"Just us," he forces out in the end. "Goodbye, Wei Ying."

"Hm." Wei Ying slides on his hands until he's laying down on the ceiling, his eyes jumping back and forth between Lan Wangji next to him, and the moon above him. "Lan Zhan?"

"Mn?"

"What-" Wei Ying hesitates, biting his bottom lip. Lan Wangji's fist tightens around Bichen's sheath. "No, forget it."

"Wei Ying can ask," he says. Wei Ying can ask anything.

Despite his reassurance, Wei Ying still seems nervous when he opens his mouth again.

"Your- is your soul mark clear?"

Lan Wangji stiffens, looking down at the other teen. 

He'd always suspected he didn't know, but this confirms that Wei Ying has no idea they're fated. Is it selfish then, for Lan Wangji to stay by his side when Wei Ying doesn't have all the information? But- but that also means Wei Ying likes being with him, regardless of them being soulmates or not. Would that change if he knew? Would he feel pressured and chained down, like Lan Wangji felt at first?

He can't do that to him. 

He can't weigh him down with this knowledge he had so much trouble bearing at first. If Wei Ying wants to be by his side- he has to trust the gods matched them together for a reason.

Wei Ying is still looking up at him, drunk and expectant, and Lan Wangji reasons -hopes- he won't remember any of this tomorrow. 

He throws Bichen to hover at his feet, and climbs on it carefully before looking back at Wei Ying's face. He looks ethereal and beautiful under the moonlight, calm and vulnerable in a way his sober self could never muster.

"Mn," he says. "It's red."

And he wills the sword to fly away, cursing his cowardice as his heart hammers in his chest.

🐇🐇🐇

"Don't- don't move," Lan Wangji says. His throat feels tight, his voice sounds shaky; his heart is hammering in his chest so hard it hurts and all around them there's the metallic smell of blood, both their own and the beast they just killed, and yet-

And yet all he can think of is the slowing raise and fall of Wei Ying's chest, and how it grows fainter and fainter every second. 

Something inside the tortoise hurt him somehow, but he has no idea- asides from some superficial cuts and scrapes there's no wound on him that would keep Wei Ying down, nothing that would be slowly killing him like this. 

"Haaa, are you worried Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying chuckles; it sounds weak and wet and makes Lan Wangji's stomach tighten into a knot. "I'm alright, 's just some Yin energy, I just need-"

"Don't," Lan Wangji cuts him off. Wei Ying's eyes are still closed, and it's scaring him. "I'll flush it out."

And he rests a hand on his forehead, wincing at the wet, feverish heat of his skin. Wei Ying lets out a quiet sigh when he starts pushing his own spiritual power into his meridians, but his breathing doesn't ease, his eyes don't open. If anything, Lan Wangji feels like he's merely offering his fated comfort before he passes, and the thought chills him more than the freezing water of the cave.

This can't be it, can it? How they end, before they even began? He never even told Wei Ying they were fated, never got to know how he felt about-

Why didn't he tell him?

He was so afraid of ending up like his father, and now...

"Oi, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan," Wei Ying mutters, each syllable strained with effort. 

"Quiet," Lan Wangji orders, pushing some more spiritual power into him. He just needs to cleanse his meridians, and once they're out of here he-

"I'm probably going to die," Wei Ying continues, either not hearing or ignoring his earlier interjection. His words, or rather the quiet resignation in them, washes over Lan Wangji like ice water. "It's alright, though."

It's not. It's not alright at all, Wei Ying and him, they're supposed to be together. 

"Wei Ying, you're not going to die." Lan Wangji promised him to help him find his martial uncle again, he- he made promises he couldn't keep, on time they never had in the first place. 

"It's alright if I die here," Wei Ying's eyes are still closed, and his lips curl into a gentle smile as he brings up a shaky hand to lay it over Lan Wangji's own. 

He deserved so much more. So much better than him, why did the gods saddle such a bright and untameable soul with someone bearing Lan Wangji's curse? Why not a rogue cultivator, a Jiang disciple, anyone *but* him, someone who could've lived an entire life by his side?

"Ah... Why don't you sing me a song?" Wei Ying asks, then coughs weakly. "I'd like that."

A song. 

Wei Ying could and should be demanding Lan Wangji to put his life on the line to save him as a worthy fated should, but all he wants as he leaves this world is that, a song. 

Lan Wangji tightens his arms around him, and swallows the knot in his throat before nodding. 

And then he sings. 

Music has ever been special for the Lan, and the notes Lan Wangji hums are memories given sound. Every single time his soul has yearned for its other half, every time Lan Wangji has had to hold back a treacherous, ungrateful hand that threatens to reach out in search of something other than the simple, honest friendship Wei Ying offers.

His fated's weight in his arms increases as the song goes on and consciousness leaves him, but Wei Ying's lips remain curled in a content little smile even as his face grows paler by the moment. 

Lan Wangji opens his eyes at the end of his song, unaware of when his cowardice won and he allowed himself to close them. Wei Ying's face is bone-white, his lips the slightest hint of blue, and there's no movement behind his closed eyelids.

Is this it then?

Lan Wangji's arms are shaking so much that it's impossible to distinguish if Wei Ying is still breathing, still clinging to life because he's just too full of it to die. 

Somewhere far into the cave he hears the sound of rock breaking and people screaming, but he doesn't move. He doesn't want to be found, doesn't feel like he deserves it after letting his fated die in pain.

For a moment he entertains the idea of collapsing this wing of the cave, of entombing himself with the man he should've lived with so they can at least spend one eternity together. 

He gently lays Wei Ying's body on the cold floor, before removing his overcoat with shaky hands. It's no longer the pristine white it should be, marred with blood and mud and sweat, but Wei Ying wouldn't care, he thinks as he covers the body with-

Lan Wangji throws himself back when the voluminous white overcoat shifts a little on Wei Ying's chest. It can't be- could this be death throes? Or is his soulmate turning into a resentful fierce corpse before his very eyes?!

He lifts a shaky hand to the collar of his robes, pulling it away from his body enough to peek at his chest underneath.

These past months he's resented the red lotus like he's seldom resented anything before, but now his eyes water at its sight. 

It's still there, and Wei Ying-

He turns towards the sounds of the rescuers -he thinks he can hear Jin Zixuan's voice- and gathers what little spiritual energy he has left after this whole debacle to send it out in a flare. 

Wei Ying has a chance; they have a chance.

🐇🐇🐇

Lan Wangji doesn't mean to put everything out in the open like that, to tell his fated about the curse that mars any and all soul bonds in his bloodline. He's a private person by nature and the customs of his clan have only made him more so, but he's just- there's no other word for it, he's overwhelmed. 

Sizhui was kidnapped and he and Wei Ying only barely escaped death via the unlikely assistance from the person Lan Wangji less wants to see at any given moment, his brother is missing and probably in mortal danger, his forehead aches from where he slammed it on the table when he passed out from drinking Wei Ying's alcohol, ando now Wei Ying is just... just sitting there, softly illuminated by the gentle, warm light of the candles that glimmers almost hypnotizingly in his large grey eyes and makes him look so ethereal, like - like maybe he never really came back and this is just Lan Wangji's pathetic fever dream, a broken man imagining a world in which his fated and he can still be together.

The veins are the only thing that keeps him grounded to reality. 

After Wei Ying tricks him into bed -because Lan Wangji's drunk enough that it worked but not drunk enough that he didn't see the trap coming- to keep him from drunkenly stumbling out into Yunping to find a brother that doesn't want to be found, Wei Ying ends up far too close to him. Close enough in fact, that Lan Wangji can practically smell him, the sweet scent of wine on his damp, grinning lips, which means Wei Ying is also close enough for Lan Wangji to peek down his collar at the thin black veins that snake down his neck; it's so easy to forget sometimes, that Wei Ying might be back, but it doesn't mean he's alive, just- not dead.

What's harder to forget is how he came to be in this state, how Lan Wangji failed his soulmate at every turn, how he allowed the world to crush him when he only ever tried to do good. 

He's spiraling, he knows that. He always spirals when he's drunk and thinking about Wei Ying; the lotus-shaped scar over his faded soulmark can attest to that. 

It's almost ridiculous, how all Wei Ying needs to do to pull him back is talk to him. Maybe that's the true strength of a soul bond, maybe Lan Wangji would walk away from eternal rest if Wei Ying so much as asked.

He's not selfish enough to delude himself thinking the opposite is true; Wei Ying did not come back in the sixteen years Lan Wangji begged his memory to do so, and he'd do well to remember that. His fated is too willful, too untameable to tie himself to one place just for the sake of someone else's capricious, unwanted love. 

He's satisfied with what they have, with loving him in silence for the rest of his life as penance for not speaking up when he should've. 

Like he just told him, whatever Wei Ying wants is enough.

"Well, after I met you I thought- I wouldn't mind following a few rules. Or- or breaking some if I had to, hah," Wei Ying chuckles, and Lan Wangji feels his own lips twitch into a smile at the thought of Wei Ying actually following any rule set by someone other than his brave, burning heart. 

He's not ready for the man's next words.

"I- I really would've liked my mark to be Lan Zhan's. I'm- I would've chosen you anyways, but it would've been nice, no?" Wei Ying ask. Lan Wangji's mouth goes dry, and time seems to slow down. 

He's always known Wei Ying has no clue they are fated. Always known he wouldn't have cared, because Wei Ying prefers the lonely bridge he painstakingly set out for himself rather than the smooth path set by someone else.

Whatever one chooses is the only thing that matters.

Lan Wangji didn't get it the first time and he paid the price for that in watching the red lotus fade from his skin, but in this undeserved but very welcome second chance he has honored that belief by choosing to be by Wei Ying's side regardless of whether or not his own feelings are corresponded, except-

Except Wei Ying apparently and by his own admission, would have always chosen him.

They are both so, so stupid, Lan Wangji thinks as he surges forward to catch Wei Ying's lips in a kiss.

🐇🐇🐇

The Cloud Recesses has changed a lot in what feels like little time, Lan Wangji thinks. Or rather, it is the way Lan Wangji feels about it that has changed.

For the first three years after Wei Ying's return it has felt like a fortresss, a barrier he must keep standing to guard the wounded brother that once kept the world standing around him because he knew Lan Wangji would rise again, in his own time.

Wei Ying came and went like the seasons, and though Lan Wangji yearned to follow his wandering footsteps, he knew where he was needed, and he stayed.

Now, six months after Lan Xichen emerged from the Hanshi shadowed by two men that shook death off for him, it's starting to feel more and more like a prison.

He's spent most of this period helping his brother catch up onto what the cultivation world has become since his seclusion, and there's so many changes that he doesn't envy his brother. 

The clans have mostly settled into an easy peace again; despite his best efforts, Huaisang wasn't able to shake the attention off of himself after his little stunt, and has been more or less cornered into accepting the position of Head Cultivator, which means Qinghe has become what Lanling was before, the main destination for the clans, rogue cultivators and helpless civilians to bring their matters to. This has left the Lanling Jin time enough to heal from their leader's demise- Jin Rulan has had the time and the opportunity to flourish into his own leadership, guarded as he is by the ever-watchful shadows of his mother's brothers, and there are not many that wouldn't think twice about daring to cross the returned Yiling Patriarch.

And Jiang Wanyin too, but Lan Wangji prefers, as a rule, to think of him the least possible amount; he has enough of him with the tales Wei Ying regales him with whenever he returns from his excursions into Yunmeng.

Sizhui too comes and goes, traveling with his group as well as visiting his fated whenever Jin Rulan cannot shake off his duties to go night hunting with them, and-

"Aiayh, Lan Zhan did you hear that?" Wei Ying's voice breaks him out of his reverie- it's that overly excited voice he uses whenever he wants to fluster Lan Wangji himself or, in this case, Sizhui. "An entire herd of Kui beasts- our little radish is a full-fledged cultivator now, he's ready for a title, don't you think?"

Lan Wangji can feel his son's eyes on him, and when he looks towards him he sees the familiar mix of fondness and mortification that come upon his face whenever Wei Ying praises him.

He nods solemnly in response to his fated's words. "Sizhui has matured into an outstanding radish," he says. 

There's only a few people in the world that would be able to read the notes of humor in his flat voice, and two of them are in this room with him. One looks at him in delight, the other in betrayal, and Lan Wangji feels perfectly at ease with the way his life is right now.

"That's perfect! The Outstanding Radish of Lan- my A-Yuan has grown so much," Wei Ying sighs dreamily, leaning his weight on Lan Wangji's chest.

Lan Wangji squeezes him with an arm around his shoulders, and when he looks back at his son he sees Sizhui's eyes softening even more.

"This radish had wonderful parents," Sizhui says, bowing his head to hide his flushing face. "He has missed them both on his journeys."

"Ahh, perhaps this Wei Wuxian will join you for your next one, then," Wei Ying straightens up, his gleaming at the promise of adventure with their child. He winks at Lan Wangji, before his smile takes on a mischievous hue. "Jin Ling is due for a visit anyways, but I will understand if A-Yuan prefers not to go back to Lanling so soon."

"This one will have to make the sacrifice," Sizhui shrugs the teasing off, smiling calmly back at Wei Ying. After what happened to his brother and himself, watching his son treat his soulbond in such a comfortable and carefree is like a soothing balm on Lan Wangji's heart. 

Maybe there was never a curse, but if there was, the two of them broke it in time for Sizhui to be happy, and he's more than satisfied with that.

"-uch a shameless boy, are you really so eager to go see my spoiled little nephew?" Wei Ying is teasing now, leaning across the table to pinch and pull at Sizhui's cheeks, which he endures with resigned fondness. "Who raised you like that? Lan Zhan, our son is a deviant- oh."

Wei Ying's hands still on Sizhui's cheeks and both turn their heads to look at the window as one. 

Lan Wangji observes them curiously for a moment- he knows there is no blood relation at all, but their resemblance is uncanny at moments like these. There is just the slightest tinge of red glimmering in the depths of their slate-grey eyes, and sure enough when he follows their gaze Lan Wangji sees his brother's back disappearing behind a building some distance away, no doubt heading towards his rooms.

Sometimes Lan Wangji has the thought that he and his brother are very lucky, that they can walk around absolutely *covered* in fierce corpse scent and there's really only two people in the Cloud Recesses that could notice; his Uncle would have a fit.

"Ah, there's something I need to ask San-bo," Sizhui says a moment later. "If I may be excused?"

"Hm," Lan Wangji hums noncomittaly, shrugging. He holds no love in his heart for Jin Guangyao, but if he has anything going for him other than the love he bears his brother it's the fact that he's always been kind to Sizhui, at least whenever he's not actively kidnapping him to draw him and Wei Ying to certain death- but even then he made no difference between him and Jin Rulan, which is... something. Lan Wangji has no idea what, but it's certainly something.

"Alright, I will be taking my leave then." Sizhui's nodding and climbing to his feet, bowing respectfully at them both, "I'll see you for supper, A-die, Wei-baba."

And he's out of there immediately, fast enough that Lan Wangji nearly misses his reddened ears and his uncharacteristically graceless gait.

Wei Ying lets out a quiet, warm chuckle as he leans back against Lan Wangji's chest.

"You know? He was so angry when he was a child and I told him not to call me baba," he says quietly. "He's always been stubborn."

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. "It bothers Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying shakes his head, but when Lan Wangji looks down his eyes are lost somewhere far away, his lips curled downwards.

"I don't- it's not fair, is it?" he asks in the end, looking back up at Lan Wangji. "You said he doesn't remember being a Wen, but that's my fault. The only reason we had the privilege of raising him is because I snatched it away from his mother and father."

Lan Wangji hums thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around Wei Ying's frame. He hasn't given this much thought- Sizhui's his son, and that's that.

"Jiang Fengmian raised Wei Ying. Would his parents feel robbed?"

"Ah, but Lan Zhan- Jiang-shushu didn't kill my parents," Wei Ying sighs. "I know I didn't- but it was my fault, wasn't it? That they all ended at Jin Zixun's stupid camps. That he lost them. I don't know- it would feel different if they had fallen in battle I think, but they were just... they were just people, and they didn't ask to be thrust into a war."

"Wei Ying didn't either," Lan Wanghi says with a shrug. "And he saved Sizhui. They rest in peace."

"Ha- how would you know that, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying looks at him with a sad smile. "It's very sweet of you to try and comfort-"

"Inquiry," Lan Wangji says simply, shocking Wei Ying into silence.

He performed the technique at so many places while he looked for Wei Ying's soul during those thirteen years, and the ruins of the Wen encampnent was one of them. He laid many souls to rest that day, but none of them whispered his son's name as they passed.

"It's all changed, huh?" Wei Ying asks softly. This unfair world moved forward without him, but he's yet to allow himself to leave old guilts behind. "Hah- it feels funny, that- everything's over, and I wasn't here to finish it."

Lan Wangji squeezes him a little tighter. 

"After a period, comes a new sentence," he recites into the man's soft black hair. It's a proverb he's lived by for nearly two decades.

Wei Ying is falls silent where he rests against his chest, and Lan Wangji lets him be. He knows this is something his fated has struggled with for years, and he deserves time to process it.

Instead he sets to enjoying the peace of the moment, an evening holding his beloved to his chest with the promise of supper with their child later. He knows it won't last, that Wei Ying's wandering feet will take him away sooner rather than later, and he will watch him go like the river reeds watch the cranes go with the summer warmth, praying they will be back come spring.

"...Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying speaks a long time later, after the light outside has begun to dim and younger disciples have started going around lighting the lanterns. 

"Hm?"

"Zewu-jun... he's well now, is he not?" he asks. "He looks well."

"Xiongzhang is back to himself," Lan Wangji nods.

They fall into silence again, though it feels different this time, the sort of silence that's just waiting to be broken.

"Wei Ying?" he asks, to spur his husband into speaking.

"I- Lan Zhan promised after everything was fixed-" Wei Ying starts, then stops to clear his throat and continue. "And it is all fixed now."

"...Mn?" Lan Wangji arches an eyebrow, confused.

Wei Ying squirms in his grasp, turning around to straddle his lap and laying a hand over the left side of Lan Wangji's chest, right over the lotus-shaped scar.

"Will you keep your promise, then?" he asks, his eyes dark with intensity. "Will you come with your Wei Wuxian when he leaves, Lan Zhan?"

And it all snaps into place for him- he remembers that evening walking into Yunping, and Wei Ying asking-

"Does- Wei Ying wants me to go with him?" Lan Wangji asks, and he knows Wei Ying caught the barely-there tremor in his voice by the way his lips twitch into a smile. He- he could, couldn't he? Now that his brother is well, now that it's all over, now-

It might be time to start for him, too.

"There's still a whole lot of world out there that I'm yet to see," he says, leaning down until his forehead is resting against Lan Wangji's. "I want Lan Zhan to be the one to show me."