Archive of Our Own ^beta

They bring him in just before dawn. Wei Wuxian does not remember it, not really. He remembers nothing but pain.

He's been in pain before, isn't new to it, not by any stretch of the imagination. The pain of losing his core had been, perhaps, the most intense pain he has ever felt, but he had anticipated that pain. Had weighed the benefits against the drawbacks, had made the choice himself: be in pain, save his shidi.

That pain had been worth it.

The pain he feels now is different. Not of his own making, this pain feels like a single shuffling step away from dying. He had, at one point, believed, in fact, that he had died, particularly when a blurry figure in white with a white ribbon bisecting their forehead leaned over him and called out his name.

"Lan Zhan…" He'd smiled, attempting to reach out for him, but finding nothing but air when he lifted his hand. An illusion, then. Delirious, he had called for Lan Zhan again, then heard his name called back to him, louder this time.

Part of the pain originates in his belly. He had put a hand to it, and in his unsteady vision, had seen red—so much red. He had been drowning in red, red dripping from his fingers, from his mouth where he had touched it with his other hand, his ear, his nose. Red flowed out onto the damp ground beneath him.

He is no longer on the cold floor of the forest, no longer creating a river of blood to feed whatever beasts live in that cursed place, but the pain persists. Searing pain, the sort that makes him heave: makes him think, almost clearly, this is the pain of dying.

Somebody is whimpering, too loud in his ears, and he can't open his mouth enough to tell them to shut the fuck up already. His throat hurts as it vibrates—oh. That someone is him. He tries to stop, but every time he's touched—is someone touching him?—it jars another whimper of pain out of him.

He can't feel his fingers, can't feel his toes. He is too cold—another sign of impending death.

He had always wanted his death to be a swift one, painless if possible. It looks like he will never get his wish, neither in his previous death nor in this one. Although when he had been falling off that cliff, Lan Zhan's face the last thing in his vision apart from the bloody, dawning sky, he hadn't felt pain, but clarity. Too much of it, really. Acceptance. This is for the best. He had deserved that death. Had nothing left to give. If he hadn't been able to save his shijie, at least he'd saved Lan Zhan. There had been a satisfaction in that, a small glimmer of pleasure in a screaming void of that night.

Lan Zhan hadn't fallen with him. Lan Zhan had been saved.

He doesn't remember the last thoughts right before oblivion had taken him, but he hopes they had been about Lan Zhan.

Now, the illusion persists, whenever he can peel open his sticky eyes. His eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, the effort of moving them too great for his diminishing strength. But whenever he manages to open them, he sees a figure in white with a white ribbon on its pale forehead. He smiles without moving his mouth—it's becoming impossible to move anything, really, he is sinking into this death in a way he hadn't in the previous one. Lan Zhan, he thinks. Don't be mad at me when you find out. I tried, I really did.

The aoyin had been fierce. Too fierce for a rogue cultivator to take on by himself, it had turned out. Wei Wuxian's feeble, weak core had been no match for its snapping jaws and swiping claws, not until the very end.

"Did I kill it?"

"You killed it."

He doesn't know who told him that, but he must have killed it, to have lived long enough to feel this pain.

His stomach screams at him as hands rip away his clothes, and he is cold, so cold.

Other voices begin to trickle into his awareness, quietly urgent, until all he can see, when he finally wrestles open his eyes, is a sea of white and ribbon.

"Lan Zhan," he rasps, tasting iron. "Lan Zhan, there are so many of you." His throat closes up and he chokes, coughing up bile and blood, wheezing to get in any air. That's how it starts, he thinks. Death is knocking at his door, it's getting so terribly close. He's lifted, turned onto his side, and he hears screaming as the pain nearly blinds him.

There is even more regret in this death.

When oblivion comes, he barely has time to form the thought—Lan Zhan, I'm sorry—before it's cut off.

Blinding white, then black, then nothing.

Wei Wuxian slips away. It is a mercy.

Murmuring voices, too indistinct to understand. It's dark, a deep blue dark that comes just before dawn. His eyes are filled with sand, his mouth is a bitter swamp.

He can't feel a thing. It's not a lack of pain—it's a lack of any sensation at all. He tries to wiggle his fingers and toes and finds that he can't. Through the panic, he thinks, ah. This is what it's like in the Netherworld. The taste in his mouth and his gritty, swollen eyes must be his punishment for the things he's done in life.

He will accept it, but how will he walk over the bridge if he can't feel his legs?

He wonders if he still has his voice. He supposes there's only one way to find out. The feeble attempt at calling out for someone, anyone, is a rasp in the dark. Nevertheless, it creates a flurry of activity—they must have been waiting for him. He hopes he'll get some answers this time. Last time, there had been no Netherworld, just oblivion, until he was back in an unfamiliar body, blinking open his unfamiliar eyes.

This time, he is too aware of too many things. At least the pain is gone.

"Wei Ying?"

The voice jolts him. It is a cosmic joke—is he cursed to hear that voice for the rest of time, knowing there is nothing connected to it, no Lan Zhan at the end of it?

Still… "Lan Zhan." The name feels good on his tongue. At least he can still talk. "Lan Zhan, where—" He coughs, his air supply getting cut off with it. He heaves, and suddenly he is aware of his chest, the ache of it as he struggles for breath. Death is peculiar—how can he still feel anything?

"Don't try to speak." A gentle touch to his cheek, then he is pressed back down onto whatever surface he is lying on. "You're in the Jingshi, you are safe."

Wei Wuxian frowns, blinking at the grey form in front of him. The Jingshi. He must be hallucinating, even in death. Is this what he is to expect until he is shuffled into his next life? He wonders how long it will take. He wonders who he will come back as.

"Sleep, Wei Ying. Don't try to move."

"I can't," he rasps, managing to make the words without coughing.

"You had been moving too much, jarring your injuries. Not being able to move is temporary, it will wear off."

"Lan Zhan…" He feels a tremulous smile form on his face, despite everything. "It's...it's good to hear your voice."

A silence, then. It feels like waiting.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and then it's dark again, and he is asleep.

Next time he wakes up, it's bright. Too bright. He blinks, then raises his hand to shield his eyes from it, arm shaking slightly.

The air tastes familiar, a scent that sends him instantly to another morning, all those months ago, waking up after falling unconscious after being hit by Zidian. And just like last time, his blurry eyes manage to focus long enough to see a familiar figure sitting at an instrument, plucking its strings. The melody trickles in slowly, forming into something remembered, something that makes his insides churn.

The pain in his stomach throbs, and now he can feel a whining ache of wrongness somewhere in his leg. When he wiggles his fingers, he finds they are under his control.

He grits his teeth against the pain.

"I didn't die," he says, a dawning realization. "You're really here."

Lan Zhan is next to him the next moment in a flutter of sleeves and swinging of black hair. His face swims into view, a warm hand touching Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying. You're awake."

He blinks slowly, lips spreading in a smile. "I can feel things."

Lan Zhan's eyebrows draw together. "How is the pain?"

"Oh." He assesses his situation. "Terrible." He shuts his eyes, the only pleasant thing the dry, warm hand touching his own. The pain in his stomach is less sharp than it had been. Perhaps he had dreamed that awful, all-encompassing pain. Everything aches, down to the smallest bone, his leg in particular. His throat is dry, his ears stuffed with cotton. "Thirsty," he manages.

Lan Zhan's hand retreats, and then, an indeterminate amount of time later, another gently lifts his head. "Can you sit up?"

Wei Wuxian winces as he tries, then falls back down. His stomach feels as though a hundred knives have been stabbing him without pause.

"All right, hold on."

Lan Zhan feeds him water drop by drop with a clean, wet cloth. It takes a long time to reach his parched throat, but the cool touch to his lips feels good. He feels as though he has been running all night, winded and vibrating from too much movement. Finally, he says, "Enough," and Lan Zhan takes the cloth away.

Wei Wuxian thinks it's better if he keeps his eyes closed. It makes the headache better.

"How long?" he rasps, hoping Lan Zhan will understand.

He does. "Three days."

Three days. Three days, he has been lying unconscious in Lan Zhan's bed. He wants to demand to know where Lan Zhan has been sleeping, but that would mean too many words. His tongue is too heavy in his mouth. Instead, he nods, and then darkness overtakes him, and he slips away once more.

"I will stay here."

"You have important matters to see to. You are Chief Cultivator. You cannot spend days sitting by somebody's sickbed and watching him sleep. Let a disciple do it."

"No."

"Wangji." A stern voice that sounds familiar, just a moment from being placed in his memory.

"Wei Ying is not yet out of danger. The doctor said so herself. I will not leave his side until he is."

"This is unbecoming."

"I do not care."

Wei Wuxian blinks and tries to sit up, falling back down immediately. The throbbing pain in his stomach is getting old. His leg, too, is screaming in pain.

"You have a delegation to host, or did you forget?"

"I would appreciate it if you or one of the other elders were to see to this duty."

"At least you admit it is a duty."

"Lan Zhan…" It slips out involuntarily, as though that name is the only thing keeping him grounded in consciousness.

A moment later, a shadow falls across his closed eyes, then a cool touch to his forehead. "Wei Ying." There's so much warmth in the low voice. Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to do with all that warmth. "How do you feel?"

With a shaky hand, Wei Wuxian takes Lan Zhan's away from his forehead, but doesn't let go, even as his grip slackens. "Alive."

Something like a huff, then, "That's good. That's very good."

"Wangji."

"Shufu, please. I will—"

"Wangji, he is fine. I will call for Lan Sizhui to sit with him."

A squeeze to Wei Wuxian's hand, then his hand is being laid gently by his side and Lan Zhan's touch retreats. "I will do it myself."

"Good." Retreating footsteps, the sliding of doors being shut.

Wei Wuxian floats out of his body for a moment, the throbbing pain receding into the background. There's a warm current being directed to somewhere in his body, though he can't quite place what it is. He's felt it before. It's a gentle flow, easing something in his shoulders, loosening his chest. Lan Zhan.

"You have to go. Be Chief Cultivator," he manages. His voice still sounds rough, unused. It scrapes against his throat. "I'm totally fine."

"I am where I should be." He doesn't stop feeding Wei Wuxian his energy. "Lie still."

Wei Wuxian obeys. "Lan Zhan…"

"Wei Ying."

"Your uncle, he's—"

"He is fine. Lie still, Wei Ying."

More energy being sent through his wrist, the only place he doesn't hurt. The headache is substantial, but still lesser than the pain in his stomach or leg.

"What, uhm. What's wrong with me?"

The flow of energy stops. Gently, Lan Zhan puts his wrist back by his side. "The aoyin you were fighting ripped up your stomach." He says it calmly, clinically. "You also have a broken leg. It has been set, and your wounds have been dressed, but it will…" Here, he clears his throat. "It will take you some time to recuperate from these injuries." His voice goes hoarse on the next words. "You came very close to losing your life. So, lie still, Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian, who has no intention of moving because he can barely keep his eyes open, winces. "I'm sorry, Lan Zhan. And I've put you out." He sighs, the movement jarring his stomach. "You should have put me in the infirmary."

Lan Zhan doesn't respond, but calmly picks up his wrist and begins giving him energy once more. Wei Wuxian wants to protest, wants to say don't waste it, but finds his tongue too heavy in his mouth to move. He closes his eyes, which has the effect of amplifying the pain somehow, and then slowly gets dragged down into unconsciousness.

He opens his eyes again. There is a figure in white sitting on a cushion near the bed, but it's smaller than the one he'd expect. Wei Wuxian blinks several times before his vision clears, and then he feels a bit of a goofy smile spreading on his face. "A-Yuan."

"Wei-qianbei!" Sizhiu moves out of his sedate pose and is on his knees in front of Wei Wuxian the next moment, huge eyes intent on his face. "Wei-qianbei, how do you feel?"

Wei Wuxian huffs out a laugh and attempts to re-assess his situation. The pain has not lessened, but he is getting used to it, inasmuch as one can get used to pain. "I'm fine, Sizhui. A-Yuan. Hey, which do you want me to call you?" A wide smile, and that's when he notices the kid's eyes are wet. Oh, that won't do. "Don't cry, I'm completely fine. See?" He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers, the only movement that doesn't seem to hurt.

"Wei-qianbei." It sounds almost like a rebuke, and Wei Wuxian huffs out another laugh, all he can manage in this condition.

"Tell me, what should I call you?"

"Wei-qianbei can call me whatever he wishes to call me." Solemn words from a solemn boy.

Wei Wuxian smiles. "A-Yuan when we're alone, then, and Sizhui when others are present."

The kid breaks into another wide smile. "I would like that."

"Good. Where is your yifu?"

He watches as Sizhui colors, dropping his gaze, a small smile on his lips. Wei Wuxian doubts anybody else has called Lan Zhan that, least of all Sizhui, but he takes pleasure in it. It heals something inside him to think it. "Hanguang-jun is in a meeting. He made me promise him that I won't leave your side."

"Hanguang-jun worries too much. What could possibly happen?"

Sizhui seems to sober at that and sits back primly. "You have suffered extremely serious injuries, Wei-qianbei. We have all been very worried about you."

Wei Wuxian, who's beginning to slip away again—have they given him something to make him sleep all the time? He wouldn't be surprised—smiles. "Who is this we?"

"Myself, Jingyi, Zewu-jun, and of course, Hanguang-jun."

"Mmm, that's...tell Jingyi not to worry, aren't I always fine in the end?"

His eyelids drag closed again, all of his (quite feeble, really) strength leaving him almost at once.

"Tell Hanguang-jun to see to his duties...I'm...totally fine…"

He loses his fight with consciousness.

When Wei Wuxian opens his eyes next time, he panics—it's dark and he can't see. It feels suffocating, as though he'll never see again.

Slowly, his eyes adjust to the dark, and in the quiet, he starts hearing the sound of soft breathing. He blinks several times, wishing he could light a candle to see, but then the darkness transforms itself until he can make out shapes that are even darker, giving him some contrast. A tall figure is sitting up by his bed, and he would bet his whole worthless life on Lan Zhan's eyes being closed. So that's how Lan Zhan's been sleeping. That is unacceptable. He wonders if he just shifted over on the bed if Lan Zhan would—

Lan Zhan wouldn't allow for that. That one is Wei Wuxian's dream alone.

To share a bed with Lan Zhan, however primly, would be to indulge in a fantasy he's got no right to. Still, for a moment, he does indulge—pictures Lan Zhan rising from his position on the floor, looming over Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan, taking off his headpiece, laying it carefully on a shelf, then taking off his outermost layer. Then the next, and the one underneath that, until all he is wearing are his shirt and trousers. Lan Zhan, lying down on the empty spot Wei Wuxian has made for him, his warmth so close, so vital. He would lie on his back, hands folded over his chest, as always. He would say, good night, Wei Ying, and he would drop off to sleep, together with Wei Wuxian in vulnerability. Perhaps, someday, he would even take off his forehead ribbon.

Even now, it feels intimate to hear his soft breathing. For a long moment, Wei Wuxian indulges himself in listening to it, allowing it to soothe him, when his stomach begins to grumble with a feeling all too familiar. He is suddenly ravenous, a gnawing hunger clawing at his insides, even as the idea of putting any food inside himself feels abhorrent. He has no stomach for it, but his body craves sustenance. It also craves relief—he has to pee. He has no idea how long he's gone without doing that, but he can guess. He must have been completely dehydrated, but somebody, he guesses, has been trickling water into him while he's slept.

He lies there in the dark and he thinks. He wonders just how close to five am it is. It feels like a long time away, the darkness so all-encompassing, so overwhelming. It is the deepest of nights. He knows he won't be able to sleep with bodily functions running riot through his system. Between the hunger and the need to relieve himself, he can't focus on anything else. He wishes oblivion would take him again, but he is awake.

Well, he's been sleeping long enough, he supposes.

There's nothing for it—he'll just have to figure this out on his own.

The first movement on raising up on his elbows has him gritting his teeth against a shout. Oh, that's—that isn't good. How is he supposed to do anything like this? He winces as he continues to raise himself up. His stomach is screaming in pain, but what can he do? He's got needs.

His arms feel weak, barely holding him up as he tries to shift, and then his leg lets itself be known as he jars it.

"Fuck."

Shit. He hadn't meant—

And then, movement from close to the bed as Lan Zhan straightens up and says, voice hoarse, "Wei Ying?"

Fuck. He's fucked up. He's woken up Lan Zhan, who probably needed to sleep more than anybody on earth. He groans, then manages to say, "Lan Zhan, I'm sorry. I just—"

"Wei Ying, lie back, be still—"

"Can't," he pants out, sweat breaking out across his forehead, on the back of his neck. "Have to...have to…" He sighs and closes his eyes, resigned. "I gotta pee."

Lan Zhan's strong hands wrap around his shoulders, stilling him. "Allow me to help."

"No."

"Wei Ying, you cannot possibly do this on your own."

"Let me try—"

"Wei Ying, no." There's a steely note in Lan Zhan's tone that Wei Ying rarely hears directed at himself. He clamps his mouth shut. "There is a chamber pot. Allow me to get it."

"Oh." Wei Wuxian sags down. The position makes the pain in his stomach worse, and he wants to cry in frustration from it all. One stupid mistake, and he's laid up like an invalid, unable to do the simplest tasks.

He barely holds himself up as Lan Zhan gently lets go of his shoulders, and moves aside. His arms shake as he props himself up on the bed, but he refuses to lie back down.

In the dark, Lan Zhan produces the chamber pot. Between the two of them, they manage to swing him over the side of the bed, the bad leg protesting each movement, and Lan Zhan turns around to give him privacy. The relief is profound, and for a moment, he even forgets about the pain.

Afterwards, Lan Zhan carefully, as though Wei Wuxian were made of porcelain, resettles him on the bed, Wei Wuxian protesting feebly. "Lan Zhan, don't let me take up your bed. I can't believe you're sleeping sitting up, what are you, a battle horse?"

"Quiet, Wei Ying. Go back to sleep."

His hunger is still very much present, but he isn't about to bother Lan Zhan about it, so he allows himself to be settled back into a supine position, which does, he can admit, feel better than sitting up.

Sleep doesn't come right away, but when he blinks open his eyes again, it's bright out, and the figure keeping vigil by his bed is—

"Zewu-jun?"

Lan Xichen turns his benign smile onto Wei Wuxian and nods in acknowledgement. "Wei-gongzi. You're awake. How do you feel?"

Exhausted. Frustrated. Horribly, unceasingly in pain. "Oh, you know me. Never down for long." Unfortunately, that is when his throat decides to close up and he is thrown into a coughing fit, jarring every injury, including the leg, and the pain takes over so much, he nearly blacks out.

"Wei-gongzi!"

Lan Xichen, a worried crease between his eyebrows, is next to him in a flash, his hand on Wei Wuxian's back, patting hard to allow the cough to go through. Wei Wuxian shakes his head, but can't speak as coughs rack his body for several long moments. Finally, it passes, and he falls back down, panting.

"S-sorry about that," he rasps. "I was about to get up and take a little walk, but I suppose that would be premature."

The joke doesn't really land. Instead of smiling indulgently the way he usually does around Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen frowns and sits back down, watching him. "You are gravely injured, Wei-gongzi. I suggest you not make any sudden moves, nor try to move at all. Are you feeling better? Can I get you anything?"

He's parched and he's starving. "I don't suppose there's water nearby?" he asks, feeling horribly uncomfortable asking the sect leader to help him. It's one thing to bother Lan Zhan, at least they're friends, but Lan Xichen is just barely out of seclusion, his face drawn even in serenity, and imposing on him feels all sorts of wrong.

"Of course." No longer frowning, Lan Xichen rises and goes over to get a jug and a cup. He pours some water into the cup before handing it to Wei Wuxian. "Please, be careful."

Wei Wuxian wants to ask him for something stronger, but his jokes do not seem very welcome here, so instead he takes the cup and sips at it slowly, the water running cool down his throat. It awakens a need for more, and he holds out his cup hopefully. Lan Xichen refills it, and Wei Wuxian downs that as well, throat working. When he holds it out again, Lan Xichen gives him more, then says, "This should be enough. The doctor doesn't wish you to overdo things."

Wei Wuxian makes a face, but doesn't protest.

"You haven't eaten in days. How would you feel about some broth?"

Broth. Wei Wuxian could murder a whole chicken, but he supposes broth will have to do. "That would be great," he manages.

Lan Xichen nods and exits the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian tracking his movement with his eyes.

He's left alone for the first time in days. It's strange, getting used to company after being on his own for weeks at a time. Last time he saw Lan Zhan, he had stayed at Cloud Recesses for a week, a sojourn of sorts from his new life as a rogue cultivator. It had been nice—spending time with Lan Zhan, sharing meals and evenings playing music together. He had made use of the Lan library, researching some obscure talisman techniques.

And then he had left, promising to write. Which he had done, faithfully. Lan Zhan would always write back. Wei Wuxian got to know the carrier pigeon very well in those weeks. He would tell of his adventures, sometimes include a sketch or two: of a waterfall he had encountered, or a little girl he'd seen playing with a kite on the outskirts of a village. Sometimes, he would indulge himself and sketch Lan Zhan in all manner of ways: his serious, serene face; his figure, sitting upright at his qin; him standing, one hand behind his back. He would always keep those for himself. It wouldn't do to give the game away.

For the first time, he wonders how it is that Lan Zhan even found him. Wei Wuxian had been nowhere near Cloud Recesses, though he had been in Gusu. He had even entertained the idea of stopping by for another sojourn. He had, after all, missed Lan Zhan. Was always missing Lan Zhan.

Lan Xichen returns, with a disciple holding a tray in tow. And on the heels of the disciple is—

"Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian can't help smiling. "Aren't you meant to be busy?"

"I have a break in between meetings." Lan Zhan sweeps up to his bedside, allowing the disciple to set the tray down on a low table. The disciple scurries away, while Lan Xichen lingers.

"Wangji, is there anything I can assist with?"

Without looking at his brother, busy ladling broth into a bowl, Lan Zhan says, "No need. Thank you for everything. I can take over for now."

"You know," Wei Wuxian ventures, watching this brotherly display with some interest, "I can be left alone, I won't crumble." The pain makes it harder to talk, which Lan Zhan obviously picks up on, thus negating Wei Wuxian's feeble attempts to reassure him that he's perfectly fine.

"You are barely holding onto consciousness," Lan Zhan says mildly, then brings the bowl with the broth over to Wei Wuxian's bedside. "Please, drink this before you fall asleep."

"Ugh." Wei Wuxian attempts to sit up, which causes his stomach to cramp with pain, which causes his arms to give out, which causes him to slump back down, defeated. He really thought he had it there, for a moment.

Lan Zhan, small wrinkle between his brows, says, "Allow me." He leans over Wei Wuxian—Wei Wuxian catches his scent, inhaling automatically, feeling strangely comforted by it—and adjusts his pillow so it sits a bit higher on the bed. "Are you able to move back a bit?"

Wei Wuxian screws up his face as he tries, but he does succeed. Soon, he's nearly on his way to upright. Even so, when Lan Zhan insists on feeding him the broth himself, spoonful by spoonful, some of it runs down his chin and neck. Lan Zhan catches it with a napkin, dabbing carefully. It's pretty embarrassing.

"When is your next meeting?" Lan Xichen asks. Wei Wuxian had almost forgotten he's there. He can feel himself blushing, realizing Lan Xichen has been watching this tableau the whole time.

Lan Zhan doesn't turn around, continuing to spoon broth into Wei Wuxian, then dabbing at his face whenever it escapes. "I have half an hour."

"I shall have a disciple sent in to watch over Wei-gongzi, then."

Lan Zhan pauses for a moment before resuming. The broth really tastes good, for all it's made of vegetables. It's not a meal, but it isn't nothing, either. It feels good in his parched throat. "Thank you, Xiongzhang."

"Very well. Wei-gongzi, I'm sure I will see you soon."

Wei Wuxian swallows and manages a "Thank you, Zewu-jun, for the broth. And everything."

"No need."

Exit, Lan Xichen.

Wei Wuxian slumps back against the pillow and sighs. "I've put you out. You really...Lan Zhan, you don't have to hover over me, I can recuperate by myself."

Lan Zhan pauses, then carefully sets the bowl and spoon back down on the tray. "Is that what you want?" he asks in a neutral voice.

Wei Wuxian licks his lips. He's about ten seconds away from falling back under. "I simply don't wish for you to put your whole life on hold for my stupid mistake. That's all."

"I will have the doctor come look at you later this afternoon," Lan Zhan says instead of replying, then gets up. "Please rest now."

Wei Wuxian watches as Lan Zhan rises from his perch on Wei Wuxian's—his—bed, and goes over to his low desk, where his qin sits in place of pride. Wei Wuxian's eyelids are blinking heavily, slowly, and he catches sight of Lan Zhan sitting down at the instrument and beginning to pluck music from its strings before he is asleep once more.

He wakes up to voices, one mild, one angry. The angry one is familiar, a voice that jolts him awake as though he'd been drenched in ice water. It’s coming from just outside the Jingshi.

"Why did you even tell me if you won't let me through?"

"He is resting. Once he is awake, you will be allowed to go in."

"Allowed? It's my—my—"

"He needs rest. He lost a great deal of blood, and his injuries are healing extremely slowly, due to his weak core. I let you know because I thought you ought to know."

"Oh, so you thought I'd get the news and just set it aside?"

A pause. "Yes."

Wei Wuxian tries to call out to Lan Zhan, but his voice is too weak after sleep. He is once again ravenous, but unable to do much about it. Anyway, the thought of food, even rice, makes his stomach turn. It's a very odd combination.

"You—!"

"Jiang-zongzhu."

So it's true, he isn't hallucinating. Lan Zhan has written to Jiang Cheng. Why? It isn't as though… And anyway, Lan Zhan sort of hates Jiang Cheng, doesn't he? Wei Wuxian's head hurts.

He finally manages to call out to Lan Zhan louder, loud enough that all activity outside stops, and then Lan Zhan is sweeping through the door, Jiang Cheng just behind him. Jiang Cheng looks—well, thunderous, but he always looks thunderous. Not that Wei Wuxian has seen him since the awful night at the Temple of Guanyin. What is he even doing here?

"Wei Wuxian!"

Before Wei Wuxian can respond, Lan Zhan turns on Jiang Cheng and says, in his most mild don't-fuck-with-me voice, "If you cannot keep your volume down, I will ask you to leave. Once."

Against all odds, Jiang Cheng actually shuts up, though he doesn't look happy about it. Wei Wuxian once again makes a valiant attempt at sitting up, and once again, his arms give out from the pain radiating out of his stomach, and his leg screams at him from being jarred, so he slumps back down. He is suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he is wearing a white undershirt with no other layer over it. The undershirt isn't his.

"Jiang Cheng…"

Lan Zhan actually steps aside and allows Jiang Cheng to approach Wei Wuxian's bed. Jiang Cheng looks furious, but there's something behind the fury, something Wei Wuxian hasn't seen in a very long time. "How do you feel?" he asks abruptly. "What happened? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Jiang Wanyin—"

Jiang Cheng waves Lan Zhan away and drops down onto a cushion by the bed. "Well? Answer me."

If Wei Wuxian could, he would laugh. As it is, he gives him a tired smile and says, "Which answer do you want first?"

A scowl. "Pick one."

"I'm fine."

Jiang Cheng looks like he wants to deck him.

"I mean, I'm not fine. You can see I'm not fine. I just had a little run-in with an aoyin. It took out some of my insides, but look, I lived. Ta-da!" He spreads his hands in a gesture that's meant to show how very alive he is, but then slumps back down and winces. "It was terrorizing a nearby village, and I—"

"Weren't the Lan disciples around? Why wouldn't you let them deal with it? It was in Gusu, wasn't it?"

Wei Wuxian frowns. That could explain a few things. "There were Lan disciples around?" He directs the question at Lan Zhan, who's standing a few feet behind Jiang Cheng like a particularly imposing statue.

Lan Zhan nods. "Mn. Sizhui was leading them in a nighthunt. They, too, had heard of the aoyin and were coming to investigate. That's how they found you."

Huh. If not for that, Wei Wuxian would most definitely be dead, and who knows when anybody would have found him. It's a fun possibility to contemplate for a minute, wondering if Lan Zhan is entertaining the same thought, then he turns back to Jiang Cheng. "I was there to help."

"Yeah, well. Did you?"

"I did, actually." He grins. "It's deader than I am."

Jiang Cheng scowls and looks away.

Maybe it's because he isn't quite in his right mind, maybe it's because his defenses are lowered by his exhaustion, but Wei Wuxian asks, "What are you doing here?"

Jiang Cheng's lips pinch together, and he doesn't look at Wei Wuxian as he says, "Making sure you weren't actually dead. I've made sure. I'll go now." He rises.

Wei Wuxian reaches out, attempting to grab onto his robes. "Jiang Cheng—"

Jiang Cheng ignores him. "Keep me updated on his progress."

Lan Zhan takes a moment before nodding. Jiang Cheng doesn't look back as he sweeps out of the house. Wei Wuxian takes as deep a breath as he can manage, then lets it out.

Well. That was certainly. Something.

"You wrote to him?" he asks in a small voice.

Lan Zhan seems to hesitate before dropping down onto the cushion Jiang Cheng has just vacated. "Yes. I hope—that is. I hope I did not overstep."

Wei Wuxian huffs out a laugh, head lolling on the pillow. Lan Zhan's expression could be considered by some—some who know him well enough to read him—as worried, possibly even sheepish. Wei Wuxian attempts to dispel that look. "Of course not. I...thank you."

Lan Zhan nods. "How do you feel?" he asks in a softer voice. He reaches out one hand and straightens up Wei Wuxian's covers.

"If I told you that I'm perfectly fine, would you believe me?"

A gentle smile, then, and a soft, "Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian sighs and looks away. "I wish I was healing faster. I wish I didn't have to sleep all day long. I wish it didn't hurt all the fucking time."

"I will ask the doctor to give you stronger medicine. You shouldn't have to be in pain all the time."

Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose. "Stupid," he breathes.

"Wei Ying?"

"Me. I'm stupid. I knew it was dangerous to take it on by myself, but I got cocky, you know? Over these last few months. Thought I could...thought I could take anything."

There is a silence then, and when he turns his head, Lan Zhan is looking down, hands resting on his knees. "When Sizhui had you brought in, you were barely breathing," he says, so quietly, Wei Wuxian has to strain to hear him. "You required many stitches. It will scar. I'm sorry."

Wei Wuxian laughs feebly. "Nothing new. That's...who cares. It's fine."

Lan Zhan nods. Then he straightens up just as the sound of footsteps reaches Wei Wuxian's ears. A soft knock.

"Come in," Lan Zhan says, not bothering to rise to his feet.

It's a disciple Wei Wuxian hasn't met before. She looks shy as she lowers her head and says, "Zewu-jun bid me to relieve you, Hanguang-jun."

"Mn." Lan Zhan gives Wei Wuxian a long look, then finally rises to his feet. "Thank you, Lan Heng. I will call for the doctor, so know to expect her." Then he turns back to Wei Wuxian. "I will see you this evening, Wei Ying." A small hesitation. "Please rest."

Wei Wuxian gives him a tired smile. "Doing nothing but that."

A flicker of a smile, there and gone again. "Good."

Then he leaves, the shy disciple stepping aside to let him pass.

"Wei-gongzi," she says, once Lan Zhan is gone. "This one will sit over here. Please say if you need anything."

"Thank you, Lan Heng," he says, even though they haven't been formally introduced. "I'm all right."

And then he proceeds to stare at the ceiling until his next unplanned nap.

The doctor wakes him. "Please forgive me, Wei-gongzi, but I must examine you."

"Go right ahead," he says after a jaw-splitting yawn.

She is all business as she pulls back his covers, then unties his shirt to look underneath. Wei Wuxian both does and doesn't want to look. She unwraps the bandage, and he can't help it—he looks.

It's grim. Lan Zhan wasn't wrong when he said it would scar—the wound is jagged, just barely held together by the stitches, and it's a livid red, puffy around the edges. He looks at the doctor as she examines it. She's frowning.

"I will be honest," she says, pulling back. "I had hoped it would be in better shape by now. I will bring over a mixture of herbs to put over it to numb some of the worst pain. It should also draw out any infection."

"Thanks."

"Now, I would like to examine your leg."

This is trickier. He's broken his tibia, it turns out—he hadn't thought to wonder before—and she frowns as she pulls up his pantleg—embarrassing—and examines the splint. Then she puts a hand over his leg and closes her eyes as she runs the hand up and down his lower leg. Finally, she straightens up and pulls the pantleg back down again. She rebandages his stomach, too. "You may tie your shirt now," she tells him.

Wei Wuxian does his best with it, hands shaky. He really needs to eat something more than broth at this point. Maybe he can get some dumplings out of Lan Zhan, or at the very least rice. He'll choke it down somehow.

"The leg was a clean break, luckily, and it is healing, though it will take weeks, of course, with your...condition."

Weeks. Weeks for his leg to heal, weeks of being underfoot, weeks of taking up space in Lan Zhan's life. He smothers a sigh. "Thank you, doctor."

"No need. I will have someone send over those herbs with instructions on what to do."

Wei Wuxian nods. Once the doctor leaves, he's left alone with yet another disciple, who looks at him with big spooked eyes. Ah. This kid must have heard some stories about the Yiling Laozu that are hard to shake. That's all right. Wei Wuxian has a hard time shaking them, too. He wonders which ones this boy is scared of the most. Is it the Sunshot Campaign, when Wei Wuxian disappeared and reappeared with a flute that could raise the dead? Is it the ambush on Qiongqi Way, where he inadvertently caused the death of his sister's husband? Or is it Nightless City, where he attacked whole sects and got his own sister killed before perishing himself? So many transgressions in such a short amount of time. There are a lot to pick from.

The kid looks at him like he's the monster that he is, and the only funny thing about it is the fact that right now, the kid is way more powerful than Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian couldn't protect himself if he tried, laid up in his friend's bed with a torn-up belly and a broken leg.

He wants to say something to ease the tension in the room, but can't think of a single thing he wants to say. He wishes he could turn over so he wouldn't have to see the furtive looks being sent his way, but he can't. He's been on his back for days now. It's really getting old.

He shuts his eyes and he tries to sleep.

The person to bring the herbs from the doctor is Lan Zhan himself. Wei Wuxian had, in fact, managed to fall asleep, and he wakes to a familiar figure making its way to his bedside, carrying a tray.

He blinks slowly, then finds himself smiling. "Hey, you." His voice is sleep-rough and slow.

"Wei Ying. I've brought medicine."

"Why you? Don't you have work to do?"

Gracefully, Lan Zhan lowers himself to the ground without upsetting any of the bowls nestled on the tray. "My duties are done for the day," he says mildly. "It is nearly dinnertime."

"Ah." Wei Wuxian keeps losing track of time. Surely, at some point, he'll stop sleeping so much, and then his days will drag on and on, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Allow me?" Lan Zhan asks, rising to his knees and hovering over Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's breath catches at the closeness, and it takes him a moment to understand what it is Lan Zhan is asking. He nods mutely. Lan Zhan nods in response, then pulls back the blanket covering Wei Wuxian. He undoes the ties on Wei Wuxian's shirt with careful, precise movements and uncovers the bandage itself. He looks preternaturally serious, and if Wei Wuxian is trembling, just a little bit, that could be blamed on his skin being exposed to cool air.

Just as carefully, Lan Zhan undoes the bandage. Again, Wei Wuxian tries not to look, but does, anyway. There it is, his wound. At least it's closed up. He is glad he didn't have to see it before the stitches. Lan Zhan is frowning as he looks at it, then he pulls back and moves towards the tray. Wei Wuxian tracks his movements: from one bowl, he takes a handful of herbs, slowly dunks them in a liquid of some sort in the other bowl, soaking them. Then, slowly, he brings the whole mass to Wei Wuxian's wound and gently, carefully, lays it out until every bit of reddened, angry flesh is covered up. It feels cool, and he realizes with a jolt that this whole time, it wasn't just the pain that was uncomfortable, it was heat. A potential infection growing beneath his skin.

"This should help with the pain and the swelling," Lan Zhan says, interrupting the solemn silence that had fallen over them. "The doctor also said it should draw out any—"

"Infection. Right." Wei Wuxian sounds odd to his own ears. He clears his throat. "Thanks, Lan Zhan." He bites his lip. "And for letting me stay. I'm sorry. Again."

Lan Zhan frowns down at his face. "You've got nothing to apologize for. I am simply...glad to be of help." There is a moment of silence, then, "I am going to dress the wound back up now."

"Where are you going to sleep tonight?" Wei Wuxian blurts out.

Lan Zhan blinks. "I thought—"

"Because you should sleep on the bed. A bed. Of some sort. You can't keep sleeping sitting up, it's bad for you."

Lan Zhan watches him carefully, then nods. "I will have another bed brought in."

For a moment—just for a moment—Wei Wuxian is disappointed. They could have shared this bed. It's just big enough for two grown men to share shoulder to shoulder, if they don't move much, which neither of them does. Lan Zhan has always been still, even in wakefulness, and Wei Wuxian's incapacitated.

"Good," he manages. "That's a good idea."

Lan Zhan appears to assess him for a long moment, and Wei Wuxian attempts to school his features to show that he is just fine, thank you for asking, there's nothing wrong with his brain whatsoever that he's hoping to share a bed with his friend, who loves him, in some way, just not in the way that Wei Wuxian wants.

"Are you hungry?" Lan Zhan asks, unaware of Wei Wuxian's predicament. "Do you think you could eat?" Wei Wuxian must make some sort of a hopeful face at that, because Lan Zhan's features clear and he looks almost as though he's smiling. "Very well. I'll have dinner brought in for us here. I will help you."

"Thanks, Lan Zhan." His stomach growls, as though on command. "Dinner would be great."

Lan Zhan nods and then covers the wound, with its blanket of herbs, back up, tying Wei Wuxian's shirt over the whole thing. All Wei Wuxian can do is watch him.

When the medicine begins to work, it’s the sweetest, coolest relief he’s ever felt. He could float, he feels so good.

Dinner is dumpling soup and rice, and though it's bland, it might be the best meal Wei Wuxian has ever had. Somewhere along the way, his stomach has decided to behave and he keeps it all down, Lan Zhan feeding him slowly, with precision. Thanks to the pain lessening, Wei Wuxian manages to actually sit up halfway, and only sometimes does broth run down his chin and neck—and Lan Zhan is right there, patting it dry. Wei Wuxian realizes that it reminds him of the care of someone else, someone else who'd loved him enough to make sure he wasn't making a mess of himself. His heart squeezes. She's been gone for so long, and yet to him, it feels like only weeks, the ache of it sharp when brought to the surface, a constant hum in the background at any other time.

He could probably feed himself, but he gets the feeling Lan Zhan doesn't want him exerting himself in any way. If the herbs hold, maybe next time. Next time he can do it himself.

Lan Zhan plays the qin after dinner, a soft melody that's meant to soothe. It does its job. Wei Wuxian watches him with slow-blinking eyes and feels almost calm. Lan Zhan is beautiful. He has let down his hair, and all he has now is his ribbon and half a ponytail holding his hair back. He is wearing two layers only, and for a little while, Wei Wuxian can pretend that this is his life. That he is lying in their shared bed healthy and whole, and soon enough, Lan Zhan will finish his playing, wash his face and hands, and join him in bed. And then…

Lan Zhan finishes playing. There is only one brazier lit now, and in the dancing shadows it creates, Wei Wuxian watches Lan Zhan get ready for bed. He does wash his hands and face, then he goes behind a privacy screen. His distorted shadow takes off its layers, shirt and trousers. For a glorious moment, he is naked, and Wei Wuxian blinks and turns away, feeling his face heat up. That's not for him to see.

Lan Zhan emerges from behind the screen in his sleeping robe. The bed he had brought in is across from Wei Wuxian's, on the other end of the Jingshi. But Lan Zhan doesn't go over there straight away. He walks up to Wei Wuxian and sinks to the ground. Their gazes meeting, he takes Wei Wuxian's blanket and pulls it a bit higher up, covering him more. Wei Wuxian smiles a drowsy smile. Being awake has tired him out. He hopes he manages to sleep through the night. He doesn't want to disturb Lan Zhan any more than he already has.

"Can I get you anything?" Lan Zhan asks in a low voice.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head without even thinking about it. He's fine. "I'm good. Thanks, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan nods, then settles his hand over Wei Wuxian's for a moment before pulling back. "Please call me if something comes up. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I promise, I'm totally good."

Lan Zhan doesn't look like he believes him. "How is the pain level?"

"Better," he tells him, this time honestly.

"Good. I will redress the wound in the morning."

"All right."

Lan Zhan rises and walks over to extinguish the last brazier. They're left in the dark, and in the dark, Wei Wuxian can hear Lan Zhan's nearly silent steps. Then the swish of a blanket, the settling of a body. Then—nothing. Not a single sound.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and hopes that sleep comes soon.

His days go on much in the same way. He goes from sleep to waking, and during conscious hours, he is watched by a whole host of people. Lan Xichen comes back, then Sizhui. Jingyi makes an appearance, and regales Wei Wuxian with tales of his nighthunts, complete with sound effects and recreations of fights. Wei Wuxian has missed him, he really has. On occasion, Sizhui and Jingyi are allowed to visit him together.

Lan Zhan comes and goes a lot. Wei Wuxian gets the feeling he's shirking some duties, to be able to come home in the middle of the day and redress Wei Wuxian's wound. The doctor or another disciple could easily do it just as well, but Lan Zhan doesn't allow it.

Wei Wuxian gets sick of lying in bed, and feels guilty for it. Here he is, being cared for by the most important person in the world, and he finds himself resenting it more and more. If only he could move, but his stupid leg won't let him. Surely, he can't lie here for seven or however many weeks it will take his bone to knit back together. He will go out of his mind.

"The doctor said in another couple of weeks, we can attempt to have you stand up for short periods of time," Lan Zhan tells him, and Wei Wuxian groans.

"How are you not sick of me yet?" he grouses, and Lan Zhan seems to stop in his tracks and looks at Wei Wuxian.

"I suppose," he says slowly, "it would be a fair question to ask of you, as well."

Wei Wuxian blinks. "Lan Zhan!"

Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow.

Wei Wuxian could never get sick of Lan Zhan, not in a million years, not if they were able, through some impossible miracle, to cultivate to immortality together.

Wei Wuxian lies back and laughs.

He has at least been given books to entertain him, and has even been able to sit up and scribble notes for himself as he reads.

Still, it is a dull business, recuperating. His ass is tired of being still, his back aches. He feels, for the first time, almost old.

Every night, Lan Zhan comes home with dinner for the two of them, and they eat, Wei Wuxian finally allowed to feed himself, and he is able to sit up as much as his bad leg will allow. After dinner, Lan Zhan goes about undressing to the last two layers, taking down his hairpiece and elaborate hairdo, and Wei Wuxian watches him transform into his simplest, most intimate self. Those are the best times of the day, up until Lan Zhan douses the last brazier and gets into bed, as far away from Wei Wuxian as it's possible to get in the space that they share.

The stronger Wei Wuxian gets, the more sleep eludes him, the more his thoughts whir, the harder it is to be in Lan Zhan's company without getting everything he wants. He's greedy, and he's selfish, and he wants and wants and wants.

And Lan Zhan gives—gives endlessly, ceasingly, and only what he is willing to give.

Wei Wuxian wakes up and blinks. It's rare now for him to sleep in the middle of the day, but it does happen on occasion. Bright midday light streams in through the open window, and the figure that's sitting vigil at Wei Wuxian's side makes him scramble up and blink rapidly, in case it's an illusion and he's completely lost his mind.

Lan Qiren is sitting still, his eyebrows looking disapproving even with his eyes closed. Wei Wuxian blinks again, then clears his throat. "Xiansheng?"

Lan Qiren opens his eyes and pins his disapproving gaze onto Wei Wuxian. "Wei Wuxian. You're awake."

He hasn't seen Lan Qiren since he's been in Cloud Recesses. He thinks he remembers hearing his voice, but the memory is as fuzzy as a faded dream. Now, he is instantly alert and on guard, and the look Lan Qiren is giving him is not in the least promising. Wei Wuxian begins to figure out plans for how he's going to manage with a broken leg on his own. Could he go to someone else? Who else would he go to? A tiny thought—Lotus Pier—enters his mind, but he dismisses it. He hasn't heard from Jiang Cheng since the day he visited, and he's been too scared to write to him himself.

Perhaps he should consider it.

"I am awake," he says now carefully. "Can I…"

"I would like to talk to you, if you feel you are strong enough for it."

That's a challenge if ever Wei Wuxian heard one. "I am," he says without thinking. Best to get it over with, and quickly. He hopes he gets to say goodbye to Lan Zhan.

"I do not approve of you," Lan Qiren says, in an understatement of the century. Wei Wuxian suppresses a snort. So far, there are no surprises. "I believe you to have made unforgivable choices, ones that stand against every principle of this sect."

Wei Wuxian says nothing, waiting for the crux of this speech. What could he possibly say? It's not as if Lan Qiren is wrong.

"However…" Here, he clears his throat, looking down. He strokes his beard, looking deep in thought. "The thing I dislike the most about you is how you treat my nephew."

Wei Wuxian blinks.

Lan Qiren lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is fairly certain that if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. "You toy with him. I cannot sit idly by and simply do nothing."

"What?" It's out before he can process it. Wei Wuxian does—what?

"You trifle with his feelings. It is clear to me, clear to his brother, how he feels about you. However, you appear to disregard those feelings."

"I—"

Lan Qiren barrels on. "You flit in and out of his life as it suits you, you use him for comfort, and then you leave him once more. Right now, you are in his house, in his bed, and all he does is—" He breaks off, huffing. "What have you ever done for him?"

Wei Wuxian swallows. His brain is in overdrive, whirring in a million different directions. The thought he can actually grab hold of, the thought that is clearest in his mind is, he is right. What has Wei Wuxian ever done for Lan Zhan, apart from bringing trouble to his doorstep? "I…"

"As soon as that leg of yours is healed, please leave and do not return." Lan Qiren rises to his feet. "I will not have my most brilliant student led around by the nose by—I will not have it. That is all." And with that, he sweeps out of the room, sleeves billowing in the breeze.

Wei Wuxian is left alone.

His mind is a riot of questions and no answers, and he lies there, looking at the spot Lan Qiren has just vacated, and he has no idea what to think. The implication is, of course, that Lan Zhan—Lan Zhan—is, what, in love with Wei Wuxian? And that Wei Wuxian does not return his feelings but uses him for comfort, as the old man had said.

That idea, of course, could not be further from the truth. Lan Qiren has got it all wrong, but the thing that Wei Wuxian cannot stop thinking about is, what have you ever done for him?

What has he done for Lan Zhan? He has embroiled him in battles, big and small; he has filled his life with noise and clutter; but has he ever done anything for Lan Zhan worth remembering? Lan Zhan is the one who gives. Lan Zhan is the one who brings goodness to Wei Wuxian's life.

Please leave and never return.

Wei Wuxian wishes he could run right now, leave Lan Zhan a note—what would he even say?—but of course, he can't. And it would be unforgivable if he did, not without saying goodbye.

If only the old man had been right, but Wei Wuxian knows better. If Lan Zhan really...if he actually...Wei Wuxian would know. Lan Zhan has never given him any indication that he thinks of him as anything more than a friend. A very good, devoted, even loving friend. He has never made a move towards Wei Wuxian that could be easily construed as romantic, or...or sexual. He has never once done that. Wei Wuxian would know.

So where does this leave Wei Wuxian, apart from laid up in bed with a bad leg and a bad stomach?

He simply doesn't know. He lies there as the room slowly grows dimmer as dusk comes, and he stares at the Jingshi, which he has always loved but recently has gotten really pretty sick of, and he feels sad for everything he will be losing.

Lan Zhan returns with a tray of bowls and a tureen and when he sees Wei Wuxian, he pauses in his stride. "You're alone?"

Wei Wuxian spreads his arms. "And aren't I fine?"

Lan Zhan frowns, setting the tray down onto the low table by Wei Wuxian's bed. "You should not be left alone, I had been assured—"

"Your uncle had to leave. He had some important business. But look, I'm totally fine."

Lan Zhan's frown deepens, his mouth pinched into a thin line. "Do you need anything?"

Wei Wuxian scrunches up his nose. "I don't. Is that dinner? Smells good."

Lan Zhan nods, features clearing. "Yes. But I would like to redo your bandage first."

Now that the tray is under his nose, Wei Wuxian can smell not only the dinner, but the astringent scent of the herbs Lan Zhan has been dressing his wound with. It's become a comforting smell—the smell of no pain.

Wei Wuxian unties his shirt—look how far he's come—and lies down, allowing Lan Zhan to tend to him. With careful hands, he does. Wei Wuxian zones out on Lan Zhan's fingers, the efficient way they undo his bandage, then clean up the last poultice of herbs. Lan Zhan doesn't touch him apart from where he's healing. And he is healing. The wound no longer looks haphazardly stitched together—the skin is knitting into a lumpy, jagged mass, but it is knitting back together. The herbs have done their job and no infection actually took root.

The scar will be a big one, he knows. There's little to regret—he's got no particular attachment to this body apart from it keeping him alive. A scar is a scar. He's had those before. It will be a reminder to him to not be such an idiot next time.

He knows that only his luck had saved him. It may not always hold.

Lan Zhan settles the new herbal mixture over the area and carefully bandages it with fresh cloth. It's stark white even against Wei Wuxian's pale skin.

They have dinner, Wei Wuxian devouring his rice and vegetable stew as though it were a feast. He misses meat, but there's not much he can do about that. He is in Cloud Recesses, after all. He misses wine, too.

Maybe that is what he'll do once he leaves Cloud Recesses behind. He'll go to the nearest inn and he will order meat dishes only, and have all of the Emperor's Smile that he can handle. Maybe he'll make a week of it. A week of nothing more than meat and alcohol, growing fat and slow, until he moves on and continues his life as a threadbare rogue cultivator, barely making ends meet.

Lan Zhan cleans up and sets the tray just outside the Jingshi doors, to be picked up by whichever disciple has kitchen duties today. Then he shuts the doors and he stands there, looking at nothing, for long enough that Wei Wuxian grows concerned. "Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan looks as though he's coming out of a reverie. He lifts his gaze to Wei Wuxian's. "I'm sorry. I wanted to...I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Did my uncle say anything to you?"

Wei Wuxian feels his cheeks flush. You could say that. You could say that Lan Qiren had said something to him. He shakes his head. "Nah, nothing important. Why do you ask?"

Lan Zhan starts to undo his headpiece as he talks. "He asked to look in on you. I got the impression he wanted to have a conversation. Are you sure he didn't say anything that I might need to hear?"

Wei Wuxian doesn't feel too much like he's lying when he says, "Nah, he just. Checked in on me. I was asleep for most of it, to be honest. He left pretty quickly."

Lan Zhan watches him carefully. He doesn't look like he believes him. "I see," is what he says, then goes about the nightly ritual of letting down his hair. Wei Wuxian breathes out.

He can't talk to Lan Zhan about this, not yet. He needs a plan of some sort. Needs to figure out his next steps. Of course, his next steps will take weeks to even be able to take. He can't take a single one right now—literally. But it will give him time to plan.

Finally, Lan Zhan says, "I nearly forgot. I have something for you." He extracts a scroll from his voluminous sleeve. "This came for you."

Realization dawns and Wei Wuxian all but snatches it from Lan Zhan's grasp. When he unrolls it, Jiang Cheng's jagged handwriting appears on the page. With greedy eyes, Wei Wuxian reads. The letter isn't long.

Wei Wuxian,

From what Lan Wangji tells me, you haven't died. It sounds like you're improving. Which is why I am surprised that I haven't heard a word from you. I would have hoped that, once you were able to hold paper and a brush, you would think to let me know of your wellbeing.

Write me back.

Jiang Cheng

Wei Wuxian can't help the laugh that escapes him at that. Jiang Cheng will always be Jiang Cheng. His belly churns with pleasure. He had been too afraid to write to him, worried that he had, in fact, hallucinated the entire encounter in his fever. Now he has a reason to write. He will send him a letter tomorrow, and hope that Jiang Cheng writes him back.

Maybe his next steps could include going to Lotus Pier for a visit. Perhaps he will visit Jin Ling at Jinlintai, as well. Perhaps there are more people in the world who would welcome him, now that he can no longer remain at Cloud Recesses.

Lan Zhan, down to one layer of robe, is sitting at the qin, hands on its strings, not playing. He is looking down at it as though it contains answers to some unfathomable questions.

"Lan Zhan? Are you all right?" Wei Wuxian sets the scroll onto the low table by his bed, and does his best at sitting up. His leg protests feebly.

Lan Zhan lifts his gaze. "Of course. Forgive me. It's been a long day."

Wei Wuxian hesitates for a moment. "You want to tell me about it?"

Lan Zhan's face softens. He looks golden in the muted brazier light. "It's all right. Simply too many meetings. I barely had a chance to—it's just been very busy."

Wei Wuxian makes a face. "Too many meetings sounds exhausting. You look like you could use a massage or something. Wish I could help."

Lan Zhan's face does that thing where it smiles without smiling. "No need. But thank you."

And then he begins to play. Wei Wuxian hasn't laid his hands on Chenqing since he'd been brought in after the attack, and his fingers itch to join Lan Zhan in playing music. He can only imagine how Lan Qiren would feel about that.

Oh, well. Lan Qiren isn't here, and Wei Wuxian is.

"Hey, Lan Zhan? Do you know where my dizi is?"

Lan Zhan stops playing. He looks at Wei Wuxian and nods.

"How about a duet?"

Lan Zhan rises silently and walks over to a trunk, which he clicks open. He comes out with Wei Wuxian's dizi and carries it over to him. Their fingers brush as he hands it over. "What shall we play?"

Wei Wuxian bounces the instrument in his hands, feeling some tension seeping from his shoulders. "What you were playing. Go on, I'll join in."

They play, Wei Wuxian getting used to expanding his lungs once again. After a moment of fumbling, his fingers remember exactly what to do, and he closes his eyes and allows them to lead him. The melody is pretty, something new from Lan Zhan—Wei Wuxian has never heard it before—and Wei Wuxian's harmony weaves around it easily enough.

They play for close to an hour. By the end, Wei Wuxian's eyes are drooping, fingers going slack. What a nice evening, he thinks. I will miss this, he thinks.

He sets Chenqing down onto the table, and pulls up the covers. "Sorry, I'm pretty beat."

"No need to apologize. You should rest."

Lan Zhan rises and goes to wash his face in the basin. Then he walks over behind the ever-present screen and changes into his sleeping robe. As always, feeling furtive and weird, Wei Wuxian watches. It's the only indulgence he allows himself. Sometimes he wonders if Lan Zhan knows he can see him. Sometimes he thinks he does. Behind the screen, Lan Zhan stretches, the slightly distorted shadow of his body elongating, beautiful in its naked grace.

Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes. That isn't for him to see, after all.

Before Lan Zhan has put out the last brazier, Wei Wuxian is asleep.

He gets stronger over the next couple of weeks. His stomach is all but healed now—no more need for herbs. Soon enough, he won't need to bandage it either. It's nearly scar tissue now, ugly and jagged, but whole.

It's his leg that's the problem.

"When can I try standing up?" he asks Doctor Lan when she comes to check in on his progress.

She frowns, then runs her hand up and down his lower leg. "I would say, soon. I will bring you two walking sticks. You'll have to keep your weight off of the leg, but you may be able to move around. But." And here, she pierces him with her intense stare. "You cannot put weight on it. Not for a while yet. Is that understood?"

"Yes, doctor." He'd agree to anything. The idea of being able to move around sends a gleeful thrill through him. To no longer be tied to this bed, to allow his muscles to work—oh, he cannot wait. "When will you bring the walking sticks? Today?"

She eyes him with some mistrust. "Tomorrow. I will have a talk with Hanguang-jun about it first."

Wei Wuxian puts on a pout. "Don't you think I can do it sooner than tomorrow? It's been weeks."

She softens. "I understand that you're restless. But trust me—you can wait until tomorrow."

He sighs. "All right. Tomorrow, then."

She is as good as her word. Mid-morning, she comes in with two long wooden walking sticks and Lan Zhan in tow. "Here we are," she says. "Now, let me show you how to use them."

Wei Wuxian beams.

Getting him off the bed is a whole procedure—he can see why she needed Lan Zhan for this. He has to be levered sideways, Lan Zhan lifts him up under his arms and then the doctor sticks the walking sticks there so Wei Wuxian can lean on them. The tops of them are flat, easy to rest on, and they have handles halfway down for holding onto. Being upright is a trip and a half—he hasn't been this height for weeks. He feels almost dizzy with it, and for a moment, he sways, Lan Zhan's hands grabbing him around the middle.

"I'm all right!" he says, and he is. He's standing. "Fuck, that feels good. Pardon me, doctor."

"No need," she says with amusement. "You're doing well keeping the leg up. Don't try to step on it."

Wei Wuxian nods. "So, how do we do this?"

She tells him, then demonstrates. He's pretty sure he can swing himself around, no problem. It turns out to be harder than it looks, though, and his underarms hurt from the unfamiliar pressure of the wood beneath them, but he does it. He manages to move.

"Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, look, I can walk."

Lan Zhan watches him almost indulgently. "Yes. I can see that."

He sways once again, but is able to right himself. He has never loved anything more than he loves these walking sticks right at this very moment. His stomach twinges, but he ignores it. "Doctor, think I can go outside for a bit? I've forgotten what sun feels like."

"Only if you are accompanied. We can't have you falling down and breaking the leg again."

Wei Wuxian turns to Lan Zhan hopefully. Lan Zhan appears to chew this over, then nods. Wei Wuxian beams at him.

They make it as far as the Jingshi gate before Wei Wuxian has to stop and huff from exertion. It's not as easy as he'd hoped, and he is certainly not ready to leave the confines of the courtyard. He's sweating and in pain under his arms, unused to having his whole weight resting on the walking sticks. Still, he's further from the Jingshi than he has been in weeks.

"Shall we turn around?" Lan Zhan asks carefully, and Wei Wuxian has no choice but to agree.

They stop at the stairs and Lan Zhan helps Wei Wuxian lower himself down onto the steps, then joins him. Wei Wuxian turns his face up towards the sun and he basks, the sweat on his brow cooling. "That was good. Hard, but good." The realization is belated. Oh, he's the worst friend. "Lan Zhan, don't you have work to do? I'm so sorry, I've pulled you away!"

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I took the morning off. My brother is seeing to some business, but I am free."

Wei Wuxian studies his profile, gilded by the sun. The sudden wave of love he feels is strong enough to nearly knock him over where he's sitting. How can he possibly leave Lan Zhan and never return? How can he live without him?

He hasn't seen Lan Qiren since the day he had told him never to come back, but his words have lodged themselves under his skin, never too far from the surface.

What have you ever done for him?

Wei Wuxian turns away, and suddenly, the sun is not as warm as it had been a moment ago. The day less bright.

He will do as he's been asked, but for now—for now he will be selfish. He will take all that Lan Zhan will offer him, because he knows that, once he's healed completely, he will never be whole again.

He leans against Lan Zhan's strong shoulder, and he shuts his eyes. Lan Zhan's arm comes around him and pulls him closer. They sit in silence for a long time.

Walking with sticks is, it turns out, a difficult business, and Wei Wuxian masters it slowly. Keeping his leg off the ground is tricky, and his arms shake with the effort of holding himself and the sticks steady. Still, he gets used to it, even with having to hunch over on occasion because his stomach still twinges from time to time, the muscles there weakened from injury and weeks of lying still.

The doctor orders him to take it easy, so of course he convinces Lan Zhan that he doesn't need a minder and then begins swinging himself around Cloud Recesses as much as he is capable of. The looks he's getting are mixed: some curious, some friendly, some peering at him sideways, some avoiding him altogether. Sizhui spots him and runs up to him, beaming.

"Wei-qianbei! You should be off your feet!"

Panting slightly, Wei Wuxian says, "I've been off my feet for weeks, kid. I can't stand to look at walls anymore."

Sizhui looks sympathetic, but then he obviously snitches to Lan Zhan about it.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says that evening. "The doctor said you would heal faster if you stay off the leg."

"I am off my leg, look!" Wei Wuxian levers himself up—he's really gotten quite good at it—and demonstrates how he walks, foot lifted behind himself. "See? I'm just using the good one."

Lan Zhan frowns. "You are not yet fully healed."

Wei Wuxian makes a face at that. He is still weak, it's true—he really can't walk for long, and has to take breaks every five minutes or so. The furthest he'd actually gotten was the library, and he didn't dare go in, lest he meet with Lan Qiren or something. "I'm just…" He sighs and lowers himself back down onto the bed. He has not yet been able to get down to the floor, so he's had to continue using the bed for most things. "I'm so tired of being cooped up here, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan lowers his gaze, nodding slowly. "I see."

"It's just been weeks, you know? I need some fresh air."

"We can open windows—"

"I need air, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan pinches his lips together. "I see." He turns and grabs the tray he had brought in with him—dinner and medicine. "Would you allow me to see to your wound and ascertain if it needs more dressing?"

"Sure thing." Wei Wuxian undoes his robes—robes! He's wearing actual clothes!—and then unwraps his shirt, leaning back on his hands. He's gotten almost used to Lan Zhan examining his torso clinically, with the air of a doctor who only sees you as component parts in need of healing. Lan Zhan frowns as his fingers hover over the mass of scar tissue. Lan Zhan needn't worry—it's healed. It will always look like this. "What do you think?"

Lan Zhan pulls back, standing up straight. "It's healing well. I believe you're well on your way."

Wei Wuxian grins. "See? I told you. And once this leg heals, watch out. I'll be good as new." He pauses, collects himself, and says, as nonchalantly as possible, "and then I'll be well out of your hair. You'll have your bed back."

Lan Zhan says, "Mn," and turns away, fiddling with something on the dinner tray. "We should eat."

They eat, Lan Zhan sitting at the table like a civilized human being, Wei Wuxian leaning back on the bed, the tray in his lap. He's been eating well, and was even told by the doctor that he's filled out a little, since he'd lost weight in the first two weeks of being incapacitated. That should serve him well once he's back out in the wide world, finding himself hunting for scraps when the going gets tough.

He digs into the stew, and comes out with—

"Lan Zhan! Is this meat?"

Lan Zhan hums without looking at him. "I had the kitchen make it specially. You need strength to heal."

"Where did you even—why?"

"Caiyi. Because I thought you could use it."

Wei Wuxian feels his face heat up as he mumbles his thanks and digs in. The chicken tastes incredible—tender and delicious. It's the best meal he's had in months, it feels like. He polishes off the entire bowl, down to the last grain of rice. He feels full and almost content, if not for the buzzing of knowledge in the back of his head that the more he heals, the closer he is to departure.

What have you ever done for him?

It runs through his mind over and over, each day and each night as he tries and fails to fall asleep at Lan hours.

Lan Zhan will—eventually—be better off without Wei Wuxian disrupting his life every few months or so. He's got his duties, he's got his family, he's got a life. There is no room for Wei Wuxian's clutter in it. Wei Wuxian tells himself this, because as long as he believes it, he'll be able to walk out of Cloud Recesses, Little Apple shadowing his steps, and not turn back.

And if his heart will never be whole again afterwards, that is his business and his business alone.

He sets his empty bowl and chopsticks aside and wipes his mouth. Lan Zhan sets down his bowl, as well, then leans over and rummages through a bag, coming out with two incredibly familiar white jugs. He presents them to Wei Wuxian silently, but he looks pleased with himself, almost bordering on smug. Wei Wuxian gasps.

"Lan Zhan! For me?"

"Mn." Lan Zhan gets up and produces cups from a shelf. He brings the jugs and the cup over to Wei Wuxian, setting them down onto the table by the bed.

"But—why?"

Lan Zhan looks serene as he pours Emperor's Smile into the cup and hands it to Wei Wuxian, who takes it mindlessly, then looks down, not daring to take a sip yet. "I thought...you might enjoy it. It has been a while since you've had a drink."

Wei Wuxian crooks a smile at him. "I bet my tolerance is shot to hell. I'll be so drunk, you won't know what to do with me." He still doesn't bring the cup to his lips. As he looks at it, he notices it shaking the tiniest bit.

"Please drink, Wei Ying. I want you to enjoy yourself."

Wei Wuxian finally brings the cup to his mouth and knocks it back in one go, the liquid going down smoothly down his throat, his eyes on Lan Zhan. The sweet, slightly astringent taste of it lingers on his tongue. It's so good, he nearly cries. Lan Zhan refills his cup immediately, still standing somewhat awkwardly over him. Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes and knocks that back as well, the liquor spilling down his chin. He wipes it away, then looks at Lan Zhan. "Lan Zhan, sit. You're hovering."

Lan Zhan gracefully drops down to the floor, crossing his legs beneath his robes. "How is it?" he asks mildly.

"Amazing," Wei Wuxian tells him honestly, then reaches for the jug and refills his cup. He could skip the cup altogether, but he doesn't want to seem like an ungrateful louche. "Thank you. This is the best thing to happen to me in weeks."

Lan Zhan's smile is a small, restrained thing. "It is my pleasure," he says in a low voice.

Wei Wuxian watches him, studying his handsome features. The prominent nose, the depth of his beautiful eyes, the softness of his mouth. His high cheekbones. Truly, if ever there was a perfect specimen of a human, Lan Zhan has to be it. Surely anybody would agree: he is perfect. He is perfect, and he watches Wei Wuxian back with a soft gaze, looking almost relaxed. Wei Wuxian gets a little lost watching him, knocking back more liquor without looking away. He wishes, for a moment, that Lan Zhan drank as well, so they could share this perfect moment together. So that Lan Zhan, too, could taste the sweetness of the liquor, the perfect afterburn in his throat, and know exactly what it is Wei Wuxian is feeling.

He's right—his tolerance has gone way down, and he feels fuzzy after just a few cupfuls. Fuzzy, mellow, affectionate. He slumps back against the headboard and says, "You really are the best, Lan Zhan." He swallows, something suddenly prickling at his eyes. "The very best," he adds in a quiet voice.

Lan Zhan's cheeks get a little pink, as though he, too, is drinking, like a phantom of Wei Wuxian's wishes. "Wei Ying." It sounds like a kind admonishment. "Don't tease."

Wei Wuxian sits up, leaning forward. "I'm not! Lan Zhan, I'm not. I truly believe you're the best."

Lan Zhan looks a little lost at that, as though he doesn't know what to do with the compliment, then drops his gaze. "Thank you. I...the feeling is mutual."

Wei Wuxian's stomach churns. He doesn't deserve Lan Zhan thinking this well of him. He knows—of course he knows—Lan Zhan loves him. Believes in him. Believed in him when nobody in the world believed him at all. But there is a limit to his love that doesn't exist in Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian—selfish, greedy—loves in a way that scares him. Loves in every way it is possible to love another person. If Lan Zhan were to give him what he wants, Wei Wuxian would probably devour him whole, and Lan Zhan doesn't deserve that. It's for the best that he doesn't think of Wei Wuxian in that way. For both their sakes.

The liquor not only mellows him out, it makes him sleepy. After a while, Lan Zhan begins his ritual of getting ready for bed, and Wei Wuxian reluctantly goes through the motions himself, much more clumsy, made clumsier by the liquor. He undoes his robes while on the bed, then throws the whole mess onto the floor. He'll deal with them tomorrow. Carefully, he levers himself up off the bed and does his scoot-and-hop towards the water basin that Lan Zhan has just vacated, swaying slightly. He washes his face one-handed, then dries it. He hops back over to the bed, turns down the covers, puts out the light next to it. Slowly, he gets back into bed. Lan Zhan walks out from behind the screen in his sleeping robe. Wei Wuxian is keenly, jarringly aware of his being naked beneath that one layer of fabric. He swallows and watches Lan Zhan make his way around the Jingshi, putting out every light, until only one brazier remains lit, painting a soft glow around the space. Lan Zhan gets into his own bed, then, with a flick of his wrist, the last brazier is out. They're plunged into darkness.

Perhaps the darkness is what gives him courage, or perhaps it is the liquor. Wei Wuxian swallows, his throat clicking, and says, "Thank you for everything, Lan Zhan."

There is a deep, still silence for a moment, and then, "No need for thank yous between us, Wei Ying. It's my pleasure."

Wei Wuxian sighs and shuts his eyes. Yeah. It probably is.

Wei Wuxian is sitting on the steps of the Jingshi, ankle resting awkwardly on a pillow at Lan Zhan's insistence, when a disciple walks through the gates and heads straight for him. Wei Wuxian watches him curiously, wondering if maybe Lan Zhan's is sending him a message.

"Wei-gongzi," the disciple says, dropping into a respectful bow.

"What's up?" He wishes he knew the kid's name, but oh well.

"Wei-gongzi, you have a visitor."

"I do?" he asks, bewildered. "Where? Who?"

"We've installed him in the welcome hall, as it isn't being used at the moment. It's Jiang-zongzhu."

Wei Wuxian sits up straight. "Jiang Cheng? Here?"

The disciple nods, taking another shallow bow. "Shall I accompany you?"

It takes a while for Wei Wuxian to get his bearings, and then even longer to hop and scoot across all of the Cloud Recesses to the welcome hall, heart hammering the whole time. He'd expected a letter back, not a visit. He wonders if anything is wrong. Has something happened to Jin Ling?

The disciple leads him into the hall, and there Jiang Cheng is, sitting at a low table with a scowl on his face and a tea service in front of him.

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Wuxian smiles despite himself, despite his nerves and not quite knowing how to act around him. Last time he'd seen Jiang Cheng he'd been out of it and feverish, and Jiang Cheng had left in pretty quick order.

Jiang Cheng scowls and gives him a jerky nod, then turns to the disciple. "Thanks. We're good now."

It's the strangest thing, but Wei Wuxian sort of wants the disciple to stay, because being left alone with Jiang Cheng for the first time since the time he'd tied Wei Wuxian up and sicced a dog on him feels very strange indeed.

Wei Wuxian looks around and realizes there is nowhere for him to sit that isn't the floor, and he still hasn't fully mastered getting down. He humphs, then scratches the back of his head. "Hey, uh. Wanna go sit on the stairs?"

Jiang Cheng gets up abruptly and leads them out, robes billowing behind him. It's funny, Wei Wuxian thinks, that you can tell his mood by whether or not Zidian crackles on his hand. Right now, it's a silent, inert thing, so at least Wei Wuxian knows he isn't about to get it somehow.

He hops down the stairs using his walking sticks, then sort of leans himself back until his ass hits a step and settles down. Jiang Cheng sits down about a foot away from him.

For a long moment, they're silent as Wei Wuxian squirms, and finally he can't take it anymore. "So. What brings you to Cloud Recesses?"

Jiang Cheng snorts. "What do you think?"

Wei Wuxian spreads his hands, like, how the fuck should I know?

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and scowls. "Wanted to make sure Lan Wangji wasn't lying to me and you weren't actually at death's door. I see that you're not dead."

Wei Wuxian cracks up, throwing back his head. "No. No, I'm not dead. Didn't you receive my letter?"

"Yeah, well." Another scowl, his eyes looking anywhere but at Wei Wuxian. "How are they treating you here? Are you getting all your nutrients? Sick of vegetables yet?"

Wei Wuxian scrunches up his face. "Kinda. But they're really all very nice!" he hastens to add. "I'm fine. Just waiting for this stupid leg to heal."

Jiang Cheng nods, looking at the leg in question like it's personally offended him. "And then what?"

"What do you mean?" Wei Wuxian asks carefully.

"When you're done healing, are you gonna stay here? Going anywhere else?" He looks away. "Visiting Nie Huaisang or something?"

Wei Wuxian snorts and looks away. "Going somewhere probably. Been here too long. You know how it is."

"Still can't settle," Jiang Cheng mumbles, but doesn't elaborate.

Neither does Wei Wuxian, and for a while they just sit there, watching people making their sedate way up and down the walkways, nobody scurrying, nobody running. Cloud Recesses churns on.

"You should come to Lotus Pier," Jiang Cheng says abruptly.

"What?" Wei Wuxian turns towards him.

"What I just said. You haven't—you should come for a visit. See the new disciples." He clears his throat. "Visit the family shrine."

Wei Wuxian swallows again, tasting salt, and blinks a bunch for a moment until he can be sure that he won't sound weird when he says, "Are you sure?"

"Would I have said it if I wasn't?"

Slowly, Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "I...okay. I'd like that."

Jiang Cheng gives a jerky nod. "Good. Maybe Jin Ling can be there as well, if he isn't too busy."

"I'd like that, too," Wei Wuxian says carefully.

"Good. Well." Jiang Cheng is up abruptly, towering over Wei Wuxian. "I'd better greet your—Lan Wangji. I'm not about to get called rude by some Lans. Write me."

"Uh—"

"Don't get up, you'll fuck up that leg. I'll see you in a few weeks or whatever."

"Okay." Once again, Wei Wuxian is back to bewildered. He shields his eyes from the sun as he looks up at the figure standing over him. "Say hi to Jin Ling for me if you see him before then."

"Fine." And Jiang Cheng descends the steps and stalks off towards the pavilion Lan Zhan usually works in.

"Bye, Jiang Cheng!" Wei Wuxian calls out, just for the hell of it, and receives a rude gesture in return as his back retreats. He cracks up and laughs until there's no more laughter in his throat, and then he manages to lever himself up, walk down the stairs, and return to the Jingshi, taking the scenic route back.

Wei Wuxian's leg takes weeks to heal, but it does, finally. Towards the end, he refuses to use the walking sticks and lightly limps around Cloud Recesses, feeling freedom for the first time in months. He's able to move around entirely on his own, with just a twinge to remind him he isn't fully done healing.

He takes himself to the doctor—she hasn't had to visit him in a very long time.

"Ah, Wei-gongzi," she says pleasantly. "I see you're ignoring my advice."

He gives her an unapologetic grin. "Those things hurt my arms like you wouldn't believe."

"If you insist on walking on this leg, you'll end up with a permanent limp. And you'll be able to tell when rain is coming."

"That just sounds handy," Wei Wuxian says as he hops up on the bed.

She examines him. It's largely for show now—they both know he's fine. His stomach is a mess of scar tissue, but on the inside, he's fully healed.

"You've gotten stronger," she tells him, sounding satisfied. "All the fresh mountain air and clean eating agrees with you."

He chooses not to mention the fact that Lan Zhan has been smuggling Emperor's Smile for him for weeks. "You bet."

She sighs. "Very well. I don't suppose I can convince you to continue using at least one walking stick for a couple more weeks?"

"Lying is forbidden, right?"

She rolls her eyes and shoos him out of her quarters.

That night, he finally admits to himself: he's overstayed his welcome. Whenever he's encountered Lan Qiren out in the wild, the old man has given him the biggest meaningful stare, and Wei Wuxian now has no choice but to go. He's healed now. He's back to himself, with only a slight limp to remind him of his stupidity.

He begins to pack. It isn't much, if he's honest—he'd only had one qiankun pouch with him when they'd brought him in, all of his meager possessions stored inside it. But somehow, over weeks at Cloud Recesses, he has managed to acquire stuff: books, scrolls, his own notes, and even a couple of sets of new robes, courtesy of Lan Zhan of course, who had taken a look at Wei Wuxian's two threadbare sets of robes and made that disapproving face of his, the one that makes Wei Wuxian's chest squeeze.

He drinks as he packs, and he doesn't think about tomorrow morning, when he will have to look Lan Zhan in the eye, tell him goodbye, and know that it's for good.

He's just attempting to shove an overrobe into his pouch when Lan Zhan comes in and halts in the doorway. "Wei Ying?"

"Ah. Lan Zhan." He slowly sets the overrobe and the bag down, and dusts his hands off, as though that will absolve him of the sin of packing. "You're back early."

"I thought—an early dinner." He sounds distracted, eyes flickering over all of Wei Wuxian's possessions scattered across the bed. "You're...packing."

Wei Wuxian sighs and runs a hand over his hair, tugging on his half ponytail. "Look, I...I've been here long enough." Longer than he ever has, in fact. The longest he's ever stayed in Cloud Recesses before has been three weeks. He is well past that now. "It's time to let you get back to your normal life. Your normal bed." Lan Zhan had insisted that, even though he was perfectly fine now, Wei Wuxian was going to continue sleeping in his bed. Silly, really.

"You...wish to leave."

Wei Wuxian drops his gaze and shrugs. "It's just time, that's all."

"And when will I see you next?" The question is careful. Too careful.

Wei Wuxian doesn't look at Lan Zhan, carrying on with shoving the overrobe into his pouch, as he says, "Oh, you know me, Lan Zhan. I go where the wind blows. Someday it might blow me back here. I can write, though." He hadn't meant to say that, but now that he has, he can't go back. "You don't...you don't have to worry about me, all right? I'll be just fine. I always am."

Lan Zhan takes two steps towards him with that long-legged stride of his and the next moment he's crowding Wei Wuxian, forcing him to take a step back, stumbling a little due to the weak leg. Lan Zhan doesn't seem to notice.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Wei Ying." He's watching Wei Wuxian without blinking. It's eerie, how intense he looks. "If you are leaving because I have been inhospitable—"

"Lan Zhan!"

"—or if you feel as though I wish you to go, please know. That is not the case."

"Lan Zhan, how can you say that?" Wei Wuxian throws his hands up in frustration. "You've been hospitable! You've been more than hospitable, you've been—you've been amazing," he finishes quietly. "It's me. I've been a nuisance. I'm sure there's more than one person around who'd like to see the back of me."

It occurs to him that, in saying goodbye to Lan Zhan, he might be saying goodbye to A-Yuan. His heart twinges. He isn't ready. He isn't ready for any of it.

But his time has run out, and the quicker he leaves, the quicker he can start moving on.

Jiang Cheng will already be waiting for him—he's sent him a letter, an hour ago, letting him know to expect him. He's nervous, but excited, too. He wonders what it will be like, walking through those gates one more time, knowing that he's welcome now.

"I don't care," Lan Zhan says quietly and stops Wei Wuxian in his tracks.

"What?"

"I don't care if there are people who would like to see the back of you. I want you here."

Wei Wuxian swallows, not knowing what to say.

"However, I will not hold you in a place you do not wish to be," Lan Zhan continues in the same intense voice. "I have only ever wanted...what's best for you."

Wei Wuxian throws up his hands and says, in a too-loud voice, "I know! That's the problem!"

For a second, Lan Zhan looks almost hurt before smoothing his features out once more. Wei Wuxian digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans from frustration. "Lan Zhan, you're too good for me," he says. "You've done so much. You've been so much. I don't…" He sighs and drops his hands. He looks at Lan Zhan's chest instead of his face, which is how he realizes that Lan Zhan is breathing hard, his chest going up and down visibly. "Look, I just don't think I'm good for you," he finishes lamely, then turns around and proceeds to continue shoving the fucking overrobe into his fucking pouch. The damn thing keeps getting stuck, and he shoves harder, knowing he's only making it worse.

A hand stops him. Lan Zhan has stepped up behind him and Wei Wuxian can feel the heat of him all along his back. He's prickling with sweat now, with the awareness of Lan Zhan's closeness. They've been close before, of course they have. But this feels different. Lan Zhan is silent behind him, but he is so, so present. Wei Wuxian doesn't dare move.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says low in his ear. "I think it is up to me to decide what is and isn't good for me."

Wei Wuxian takes in a careful breath, then lets it out. "And what about your uncle. Your brother."

"What about them?" He sounds confused. Oh, Lan Zhan.

"Don't they also know what is and isn't good for you?"

"Wei Ying." It's a command this time. Wei Wuxian remains rooted to the spot, hands digging into the fabric of the overrobe. "Wei Ying, please look at me." Lan Zhan tugs on his hand, but Wei Wuxian digs in his heels the same way Little Apple does when she's cranky and refuses to budge. "Wey Ying. Please."

It's the please that does it. It sounds plaintive, so unlike Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian sighs and finally turns around. They're chest to chest, and this close, he has to lift his face in order to look Lan Zhan in the eye.

"Why did you mention my brother and uncle?"

Wei Wuxian swallows. "No reason," he lies. "It's only that...there are people here who...care about you. Who can see what is and isn't a good idea." He's breathing rapidly. If he isn't careful, he'll hyperventilate. "I'm not a good idea."

"He said something to you," Lan Zhan says in a tone of voice that suggests realization. "My uncle, he's said something."

Wei Wuxian looks away.

"Wei Ying. What did he say?"

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "It isn't that," he tries feebly.

A hand comes up and takes hold of his chin, forcing him to turn back towards Lan Zhan and look him in the eye. "What did he say?"

Wei Wuxian sighs and shuts his eyes. "He said that...he refuses to see you led around the nose by me. He said...he said, when have I ever done anything for you? He's right, Lan Zhan. All I've ever done is bring you trouble. Make you go against your family. Your beliefs." His voice goes hoarse on the last few words and he clears his throat, but the pressure at the back of it makes it hard to breathe.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan hasn't dropped his hand, is still holding onto Wei Wuxian's chin. Wei Wuxian realizes that he's trembling. "I have never gone against my beliefs when it comes to you."

"Your family, though."

"I've gone against my family because they've gone against my beliefs." Lan Zhan pinches his lips, looking frustrated. Wei Wuxian can't look away from him. "You are important to me. You—you may be the most important person in my life," he says quietly into the crackling air between them. "Please do not leave because of some misguided idea of my uncle's. Please don't let yourself be driven away."

"Lan Zhan—"

And then Lan Zhan leans forward and captures Wei Wuxian's lips with his own. Wei Wuxian makes a noise of surprise and then, against his will, his eyes close and he presses up against Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan opens his mouth and Wei Wuxian follows, and his heart is a flightless bird beating its wings against his ribcage. Lan Zhan's breath is on his tongue, his lips moving against Wei Wuxian's, and for a long moment of confusion, the kiss is all that Wei Wuxian knows.

Then some sense returns to him and he pulls away, licking his lips. "Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan's eyes flutter open—he had closed his, as well. Wei Wuxian wonders if it's an instinct when kissing. He wouldn't know. That had been his first kiss. "Wei Ying." Lan Zhan is watching him intensely.

Lan Qiren's words return to him, one by one. It is obvious how he feels about you. It hadn't been. Not to Wei Wuxian. Not until this moment.

"Lan Zhan, you—"

"Forgive me. I took a liberty." Lan Zhan starts to take a step back and on impulse, Wei Wuxian grabs him by the shoulders and reels him back in.

"No, don't—don't go." He licks his lips again. He fancies they taste like Lan Zhan. "You—you kissed me."

Lan Zhan sighs. "I did."

"Why did you kiss me?" He has to know. He has to know everything.

There is a moment of silence in which Wei Wuxian can hear both their breathing. Then, Lan Zhan says, "I kissed you because I love you. And I do not wish you to leave me."

Wei Wuxian's breath gets caught in his throat. His pulse is thundering in his ears. "You love me."

"I do. If the manner in which I love you...upsets you, I apologize."

Wei Wuxian feels himself breaking into a stupid grin. "Upsets me? Lan Zhan—you kissed me!"

"I did." Lan Zhan is looking at him a little bit like Wei Wuxian is losing his sanity right in front of him, which he very well may be.

"You kissed me because you love me," Wei Wuxian repeats, like an idiot. "And I kissed you back. Because I love you."

Lan Zhan blinks and then leans in incrementally. "Wei Ying?"

"I love you. I don't—I don't want to leave you, I never did, Lan Zhan…" He sighs and lets go of Lan Zhan's shoulders, dropping his hands to his sides. "I thought—I thought I was the only one who felt this way. This whole time—you never said. You never made a single move."

"You were ill, and recuperating." He sounds confused. "And you never showed a particular inclination towards me apart from being a friend."

"I—" He's right. Wei Wuxian had hidden his desires away, masked them with harmless flirting and played them off. "I guess I didn't. But trust me. The inclination. It's there."

Lan Zhan's face is clearing, taking on a softness that Wei Wuxian cherishes, because he's only ever seen it directed at himself. (And rabbits. He's seen it directed at rabbits.) "Wei Ying," he says warmly. "Please don't leave. Unless—unless you feel this is too much, you need your freedom, you need—"

Wei Wuxian covers his mouth with his hand. "I don't want to." He drops his hand. "I can't promise that, if I stay, I won't want to travel. Maybe for weeks at a time. I meant it when I said I wanted to explore."

"Of course."

"But if you want me...I will come back."

"I want you," Lan Zhan says, and his voice sounds hoarse.

Wei Wuxian swallows and on impulse, jolts forward until his face is buried against Lan Zhan's neck, and his arms are wrapped around his waist. "Lan Zhan."

Slowly, as though through shock, Lan Zhan's arms come around him, squeezing. His voice is so close when he says, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan, I didn't want to leave forever, but I would have done it. If it had been the right thing to do for you."

"It wouldn't have been."

"Your uncle—"

"Was wrong. But I will have a conversation with him."

"He knew...he knew how you felt about me. Even when I didn't."

Lan Zhan stills for a moment. "He is a very perceptive man. And I have been...rather obvious."

"Not to me," Wei Wuxian mumbles against his skin. It's so soft. He can't help it—he gives the skin beneath his lips a kiss. "It wasn't obvious to me."

Lan Zhan's breath is a sigh. "I should have said something sooner."

"We both should have."

"Mn."

They stand like that for a quiet moment. "Your uncle cares about you," Wei Wuxian says quietly, then pulls back. They don't let go of one another. "He wanted what he thought was best for you."

"I know," Lan Zhan says mildly. "But never seeing you again was never the right thing for me, no matter his feelings."

Wei Wuxian swallows again, gaze on Lan Zhan. "You want me to stay?"

Lan Zhan pulls him closer again, so that Wei Wuxian has no choice but to bury his face against his neck again. He's beginning to really like this. "I do. More than anything."

"Then I'll stay." A thought occurs to him. "Uh, except I already promised Jiang Cheng a visit. He'll be expecting me."

Lan Zhan gives a thoughtful hum. "When is he expecting you?"

"Within the week."

Lan Zhan sighs. "I suppose that...I can wait."

Wei Wuxian pulls back again. "Do you—no, of course not. Silly of me."

"What is it?"

Wei Wuxian scrunches up his nose. "I just thought—what if you came with me? But you've got your duties. You can't just up and go."

"I—I would like that," Lan Zhan says. "I would very much like to join you. But...the invitation, I am certain, was not extended to me."

Wei Wuxian snorts. "I mean, I sort of invited myself. I can invite you too."

Lan Zhan's turn to scrunch up his face. "Best not."

Wei Wuxian sighs, accepting the truth of it. "Yeah. You're right." He thinks about it some more, a future unfolding in front of him, a future he never thought he could have. "What if...we went somewhere else together, afterwards? I was thinking of visiting Jin Ling, seeing how he's faring. Maybe...we could go to Jinlintai together."

"Would it not intimidate him, having the Chief Cultivator come knocking on his door?"

Wei Wuxian shrugs. "He'll deal. He'll have to, anyway—he's sect leader. He can't allow these things to intimidate him anymore. And maybe we'll take Sizhui. That way he'll have a friend. And we could totally come up with a reason for you to go there. Official Chief Cultivator business. That way, nobody can say anything."

Lan Zhan is watching him with a soft smile on his face. "I would like that."

Wei Wuxian grins at him, getting lost in Lan Zhan's eyes. "Me too."

Lan Zhan leans in a fraction and Wei Wuxian meets him in the middle, and they kiss for the second time. Now that he knows what to expect, Wei Wuxian deepens the kiss almost immediately. It feels good. More than good—it feels amazing, this closeness. This intimacy. He sighs against Lan Zhan's mouth and burrows closer, as close as he can get. Lan Zhan squeezes him tight, and for a long moment, it's just that: himself, Lan Zhan, and the tightest embrace he has ever known.

When they pull back, Lan Zhan's gaze is dark. It makes Wei Wuxian feel warm all over. "Shall I help you unpack?" he asks in a low voice.

Wei Wuxian watches him, and every single want he has ever suppressed, not allowing himself to think of for even a moment of indulgence, comes flooding in. Blindly, he reaches behind himself and shoves the fucking overrobe, stuck in the fucking qiankun pouch, off the bed.

"Later," he says. "You can help me unpack later."

Later doesn't come until morning.

Wei Wuxian is just walking around a building, a spring in his slightly limping step, when he hears voices coming through a cracked open window. He stops, because one of those voices is Lan Zhan's. The other is Lan Qiren's. He shouldn't be doing this—for one, he's violating rule number 154. For another, it's really quite wrong.

But he can't help himself. He stops and perks up his ears, listening.

"—expect more of you."

"Shufu, please. This has nothing to do with expectations."

Wei Wuxian frowns, stepping slightly closer to the window, doing his utmost to pretend like he isn't eavesdropping on the Chief Cultivator and Lan Qiren.

"Why him, Wangji?" Lan Qiren sounds...pained. Wei Wuxian strains to hear Lan Zhan's response.

Lan Zhan's voice is quiet, but Wei Wuxian hears him, all right. "It has always been Wei Ying." Wei Wuxian's heart picks up. The way Lan Zhan's voice says his name will never not get his belly churning in pleasure. Lan Zhan.

A strained silence. Then, a sigh. "I know. I know, Wangji. It's something I have never understood."

Wei Wuxian barely stifles a snort.

"I know."

"Are you certain? The choices he's made...the way he's toyed with you… That man has got you wrapped around his finger."

"Shufu. Wei Ying hasn't toyed with me. We have simply been...miscommunicating. About what it is we are to each other."

Another silence, as Wei Wuxian's stands there, biting his lip. That's certainly one way of putting it.

"I understand there isn't anything I can do about this."

Lan Zhan's voice is dry when he says, "There is plenty you can do. I simply trust you not to."

Wei Wuxian doesn't, but…

"What is he going to do here? It isn't as though there's much to occupy his time. What happens when he gets bored of this life? He's too restless. He won't want to stick around for long."

"We have both foreseen this. He will take the time to travel. He has...others...he can visit. He is a free agent."

"Too free, if you ask me."

"I will not imprison him here for my own needs," Lan Zhan responds quietly. Wei Wuxian longs to reach out and touch Lan Zhan's hand, knowing the sort of pain he's referencing. He bites his lip and shifts in place against a tree that keeps him half-hidden from view. He's keeping an eye on passersby, just in case one of them clocks him, but luckily, nobody seems to be noticing him.

"I know you are not your father, Wangji." Lan Qiren sounds...almost kind. It is, frankly, bizarre.

"I am not."

"The only way you remind me of him is with your...devotion."

"Mn. I suppose."

"All these years." A sigh. "I had hoped that this foolishness was behind you. I never thought he would...return."

Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes, attempting to find equilibrium through deep breathing. That makes two of them.

"Neither did I," Lan Zhan says quietly. "I never thought we would get a second chance."

"Hmm. Second chances are tricky business."

"Yes. But I am willing to put in the work."

"Of course you are. You are my nephew."

There's another moment of silence, then Lan Zhan says, "And as such, I hope that you will, eventually, be pleased for me."

"Wangji." Wei Wuxian hears a shuffling step, then the swish of fabric. "I want you to be happy, but you have your duties. You are Chief Cultivator. You should not be distracted from your work."

Wei Wuxian scowls. As if he would ever dare take Lan Zhan away from his duties. Not on purpose, anyway.

"Wei Ying is not a distraction. He is...very important to me." The warmth in his voice sends Wei Wuxian back to the previous night, after they had finally confessed. They were awake for a very long time, wrapped up in each other, learning one another in an entirely new way. Lan Zhan's fingers over his scar hadn't felt clinical at all, then. His touch had seared Wei Wuxian right through. His kisses had melted him from the inside out. Wei Wuxian had thought they knew everything there was to know about one another, but last night, he had learned Lan Zhan in a whole other way. He squirms, remembering. He can't wait until nightfall, so they can do it all over again.

Perhaps they won't even wait until nightfall.

"I know." Lan Qiren sounds resigned. "You still haven't answered my question. What will he do while he's here? I don't want him getting restless and teaching demonic cultivation to our disciples on the sly. I absolutely forbid it."

"Wei Ying is not going to teach demonic cultivation to anybody." Lan Zhan sounds exasperated. "However, he is an expert in talismans. He knows cultivation theory inside and out. I thought perhaps—"

"No. He is not teaching anything."

"Shufu. Wei Ying is extremely gifted. We should not waste his gift." Aww. Lan Zhan. That's sweet, but...

"I am not the only one whose opinion matters. There are other elders to consider. Your brother."

"I can appeal to them, as well."

"I would rather you didn't."

"Shufu—"

"Wangji. You are already letting the man stay in Cloud Recesses. I'm assuming he'll be living in your home?" In your bed stays unsaid, but it feels like it's hovering in the air.

"Mn."

"You're already doing this. Give me time to get used to the idea before throwing him in front of impressionable disciples. Show me some understanding and respect."

A pause. "Yes, Shufu. You are right, of course," Lan Zhan says respectfully. Wei Wuxian almost snorts again.

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian shrugs mentally. It's only fair. At least he isn't being thrown out on his ass for defiling the old man's nephew. And it's debatable as to who defiled whom, if he is honest. Lan Zhan had been...extremely enthusiastic, last night. Wei Wuxian is still sore in several places, in the best of ways. Of course, Lan Qiren need not know anything about that.

"I am going to speak with your brother about this. His opinion matters greatly."

"Of course."

"You may leave. And remember that if he so much as tries any demonic cultivation, he will be thrown out. I will not tolerate it."

"Yes, Shufu."

Wei Wuxian turns on his heel and begins to walk towards the Jingshi lest he gets busted, but then he hears, "Wei Ying," and stops in his tracks. He's been busted anyway.

He turns around. Lan Zhan is watching him from a few steps away, one hand behind his back, an indulgent look on his face. Wei Wuxian can't help the smile that splits his face at seeing him. He takes a few swift steps towards him, even as Lan Zhan is walking towards him. They meet in the middle.

"Lan Zhan."

"How much did you hear?"

Wei Wuxian winces and looks away. "Quite a bit. No demonic cultivation anywhere near Cloud Recesses."

A slow nod of his head. "Mn."

"But he said nothing about Emperor's Smile." His grin turns sly.

Lan Zhan's lips lift a tiny bit. "Indeed."

"So as far as I'm concerned, we're all good here." He chews on his lip, then drops his gaze, hand going automatically to Chenqing, just to make sure of it. "But he's kind of right. What the hell am I going to do here?"

"We will think of something. You will find a place for yourself here, Wei Ying. I will make certain of it."

Wei Wuxian turns back to him, studying Lan Zhan's face, his open, loving gaze. He could melt from that gaze, right here on the stone path outside of Lan Qiren's study. "You will, won't you," he says quietly.

Lan Zhan nods.

Wei Wuxian reaches out and carefully brings the hand that's fisted at Lan Zhan's back forward, so he can hold it between both of his own. The other hand is holding Bichen. Lan Zhan's touch grows firmer. "I trust you," Wei Wuxian says, because it's the truth.

Lan Zhan doesn't respond in words, but he squeezes Wei Wuxian's hand. They stay like that for a little too long, just staring at one another, until Wei Wuxian laughs and lets go of Lan Zhan's hand. "So, what next?"

Lan Zhan doesn't ask him what he means. "Next, we talk with my brother."

"We?"

"Mn. I thought it would be best to do that together. He doesn't share my uncle's...feelings...about you. I think he would be pleased to speak with both of us."

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip. "You sure?"

"I am."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath. He doesn't know why he's nervous. He supposes his staying with Lan Zhan is contingent on the sect leader agreeing. He knows that Lan Xichen loves Lan Zhan. Apparently, he even knows how Lan Zhan feels about Wei Wuxian. Still, the nerves are there, allayed somewhat by the certainty Lan Zhan is exuding.

"When shall we do it?"

"I believe he is meeting with the elders at the moment. Perhaps afterwards." He pauses. "I could invite him to have dinner with us. Would that be all right with you?"

"Of course." Wei Wuxian gives him a smile, hoping it looks reassuring.

Lan Zhan watches him for a long moment, the corners of his eyes crinkled the tiniest bit. Wei Wuxian suddenly gets a glimpse of an older Lan Zhan, much older, with wrinkles at his eyes and mouth, looking stately and tall even in old age. He hopes he's still here to enjoy it. He hopes they grow old together. He can't think of anything nicer.

"When do you leave for Lotus Pier?" Lan Zhan asks quietly, pulling Wei Wuxian out of his reverie.

He sighs. "Tomorrow." He puts his hands on Lan Zhan's chest to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. He's allowed now. "I wish...we had a bit more time."

"Mn. When do you think you'll return?"

"Two, three weeks. I'll write every day, though."

"And I will write back."

They watch one another, smiling. Wei Wuxian's heart feels as though it's about to burst through his ribcage and flutter away, feeling lighter than air. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan leans in and, without looking around himself, touches his lips to Wei Wuxian's. Wei Wuxian makes a pleased noise and kisses back. It isn't a deep kiss, but it's nice. Special. It's the two of them.

Wei Wuxian finally pulls back. "Not afraid to be seen by others?"

"No," Lan Zhan says immediately. "I do not care for anybody else's opinion."

"Not even your uncle and brother's?"

Lan Zhan appears to be seriously thinking about this. "I do, of course. But this is my choice. You are my choice. There is little they can do to separate us." He exudes amusement as he says, "I can always quit being Chief Cultivator."

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian puts a hand over his chest. "And give up your responsibilities?"

"Mn. If it means being with you."

Wei Wuxian sags down, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. "Stop it, this is too much."

"You should know how important you are to me."

Wei Wuxian swallows. They really shouldn't be doing this out here, where anybody—including Lan Qiren—can hear them. But for now, the walkway is clear of others. It's just the two of them. And let Lan Qiren hear them—this isn't anything new.

Wei Wuxian will prove him wrong, anyway. He will stay with Lan Zhan as long as Lan Zhan wants him. He won't abandon ship if he gets bored. He'll simply have to come up with ways to occupy his time.

"You're important to me, too," he whispers. "Lan Zhan?"

"Mn?"

"Kiss me again."

Lan Zhan does, more deeply this time. It's a promise. Wei Wuxian kisses him back, promises him everything he can't put into words, not yet. Lan Zhan's arm comes around him, presses the two of them closer. A happiness steals over Wei Wuxian, a feeling so delicate, he's terrified of crushing it. But he knows that, as delicate as it feels, it's resilient. Strong. This thing between them—they have been waiting for years. Now that it's finally here, he won't let anything stand in its way. He presses up closer against Lan Zhan, opening himself up to him in every way he knows how, and hangs on.

Lan Zhan doesn't let go, and neither does Wei Wuxian.