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Lan Wangji has always been brought up to believe—and indeed he does believe, at the core of his being—that a man of his stature should never complain about a temporary hardship or an undue inconvenience.

But nonetheless, he finds it really, really unfair that he had to come along on this ridiculous field trip.

He takes a deep breath of the soothing, fragrant steam rising from his teacup, then has a cautious sip. The tea has been brewed to a temperature that is slightly too high, so he sets it down again on the table in front of him to wait, staring out the window of the tea house. The shopping street is bustling with activity, villagers moving to and fro, young women clustered around stalls selling jewelry and fabrics and other unnecessary things. Every so often he catches the swirl of a white student robe as other members of their party pass by in twos and threes, laughing and talking and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

It’s just so unnecessary. Of course Lan Wangji can see the value in the practical application of Gusu Lan’s teachings. But wandering the countryside with twenty students in search of minor spirits to quell feels utterly absurd. No one has even asked for their help—they are simply foisting themselves on these innocent villagers, banishing ghosts so weak that even the local healer could probably handle them and then flooding the streets day and night with certain unruly students’ disruptive behavior. Brother insists that it will be good for everyone to have “free time” to “relax and enjoy themselves,” but Lan Wangji cannot see how this will lead to anything but chaos and embarrassment for all concerned. Half of these students have never seemed interested in studying in the first place, and giving them free reign in proximity to any number of ways to get themselves into trouble seems… imprudent, at the very least. 

There’s a flicker of dark hair and a wicked smile between the passersby. For a moment Lan Wangji’s heart is in his throat, fearing his safe haven has been uncovered—but then the crowd moves again, and it’s only a woman in light-colored robes demonstrating the use of an elegant jade comb for an interested customer.

Ridiculous.

Lan Wangji finishes his tea and leaves a piece of silver on the table before heading out into the street again. It’s too busy to move with haste, so he wanders along at a leisurely pace, letting his eyes slide over the wares on display at each stall he passes by. He does not make a habit of shopping for entertainment—uncle would not approve of such things—but Xichen is still busy with the magistrate, and Lan Wangji intends to ask him for permission to return early to the Cloud Recesses, now that it has become clear there is no further educational value to be gleaned from this venture. The thought of spending another night in that small, dingy room with too much noise and too little privacy is excruciating.

The truth is, every minute of this trip has been excruciating. It’s not Lan Wangji’s place to question Brother’s decisions, but their crowning achievement so far has been to enlighten a mischievous spirit that kept hiding people’s clothes in a nearby pond, which was so unchallenging that even the Nie boy almost managed it. Not only that, but the fact that so many of them have been traveling together has required Lan Wangji to room with Wei Ying again. After the drinking incident, when he had inadvertently ended up spending the night incapacitated in Wei Ying’s quarters, Lan Wangji had honestly thought that his brother would no longer be quite so enthusiastic about Lan Wangji spending any of his time in close proximity to Wei Ying. The thought had put an odd knot in his stomach and heat in his ears as he accepted his punishment, waiting for the rebuke and course correction that was sure to follow. But in the end, for reasons Lan Wangji still cannot fathom, Brother had only shooed him off to the cold spring to heal, and then sent Wei Ying after him.

Ever since their encounter in the spring, it feels as if Wei Ying is around him even more often than before, tormenting him with a constant barrage of inappropriate outbursts ("Lan Zhan! Look at that mountain ridge, it's shaped like boobs!"), preposterous ideas ("Hey, Lan Zhan, what if we just turn it into a monster first? That would be way better practice, even Huaisang could take this thing…"), and impertinent questions that should by all rights be in violation of any rules anywhere (“Lan Zhan, do you think you’ll always want to live in the Cloud Recesses? What if the girl you want to marry doesn’t like all the rules?”) as though Lan Wangji has in any way invited his scrutiny.

Everything about this trip is terrible.

At least Lan Wangji has been granted a few hours’ respite. Lan Wangji hasn’t seen Wei Ying anywhere, including their room, since yesterday evening. Most likely he has directed his attention to his sect brother or the Nie boy, which is of course a relief. And for the best. Wei Ying has made clear time and time again that he considers the standards of the Lan clan beneath him, or above him, or at least in some other way deficient. It was inevitable that Wei Ying would grow bored of tormenting Lan Wangji eventually, his attention flickering and fading, on to its next target.

Perhaps, if he is lucky, Lan Wangji will be able to take his leave of this place entirely without encountering him again.

“Lan Zhan!”

The shout comes across the square at a completely inappropriate volume, and sends a ripple down Lan Wangji’s spine. Lan Wangji manages to suppress the flinch. He turns toward the sound slowly and with dignity, as one naturally would toward a disruption to one’s solitude, to find Wei Ying hurtling towards him through the bustle of villagers, his movements big and loud and his face outshining their surroundings.

Everything is terrible.

“Lan Zhan, there you are! I didn’t know where you’d run off to, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Wei Ying says with a huff, which is infuriatingly presumptuous. Lan Wangji has been precisely where he was meant to be all day—first at the inn, then passing time in a respectable manner in the teahouse, and now catching a breath of air here in the town square. It is Wei Ying who has been nowhere to be found since last night.

“I have been here,” Lan Wangji says stiffly.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Well I can see that now,” he says, as though Lan Wangji has said something amusingly ridiculous. But then Wei Ying’s eyes go bright with a mixture of awe and excitement, and he grabs Lan Wangji by the arm. “You have to come with me!”

Before Lan Wangji can so much as open his mouth, Wei Ying has turned back in the other direction and started running again, dragging Lan Wangji along with him. Taken by surprise, Lan Wangji stumbles forward a couple of steps, before he digs in his heels and yanks Wei Ying to a stop. He can’t quite tell if the thunder of his pulse in his ears is more alarm at the sudden attack or… No. It must be alarm. He hurriedly shakes off Wei Ying’s grip.

Wei Ying dares to frown at him, as though he thinks Lan Wangji should of course want to be grabbed without preamble and dragged around like a child’s plaything. “Lan Zhan,” he says, his face turning imploring. “Come on, we don’t have much time!”

Lan Wangji glares back at him. He should honestly just not engage. The least Wei Ying could do would be to explain himself properly before demanding Lan Wangji’s participation in whatever ill-advised scheme he has in mind. “Where is it that you want me to go?” he asks.

Wei Ying has the nerve to sigh. He returns a pointed sort of look, as though trying to send Lan Wangji some message with his eyes that for some reason cannot come out of his mouth. “I’ll explain on the way, all right? Come on, let’s go.”

He grabs a handful of Lan Wangji’s sleeve again and turns to keep moving, but Lan Wangji is ready for him this time. Wei Ying’s grip is little more than an ineffectual tug.

“You will explain now,” Lan Wangji says. He does not have time to go running around town simply to be the butt of another of Wei Ying’s jokes.

Wei Ying sighs again, mouth scrunching into a frustrated pout for a moment as he tries one last time to glare Lan Wangji into submission. But then he seems to resign himself to the fact that he will have to give Lan Wangji some sort of explanation if he wishes to end this stalemate. “Fine,” he says, taking a step closer and glancing around them, as though he expects to see Lan Wangji’s brother step out from between the passersby at any moment.

Lan Wangji happens to know that Xichen’s meeting with the magistrate is due to last another hour at least, but if the fear that they might be observed at any moment will speed up Wei Ying’s candor, so much the better.

“So, I learned some interesting stuff last night at the inn. Not our inn, I mean—the other one, the one you didn't want to come to.” He juts his chin at Lan Wangji with an infuriating little pout, as though Lan Wangji is the one who was being unreasonable for not wanting to join Wei Ying in his midnight carousing when he can still feel an echo of the sting of their last beating on his skin. But then, equally infuriatingly, Wei Ying changes tack again. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to find out more all morning, and I finally found this tea vendor over there where we actually need to go.”

Lan Wangji cannot follow this deranged ramble. “Where we need to go for what?”

“Oh!” Wei Ying says, as though just realizing he’s left out the key detail of his speech. There’s something clever in his eyes, and if Lan Wangji isn’t mistaken, perhaps a slight sun-bright flush to his skin. “See the thing is, there’s this… uh. Ghost.”

He says the last word with a little rise of his eyebrows that makes a shiver run down Lan Wangji’s spine, for reasons he can’t quite identify. A ghost near a village like this is hardly unusual, and certainly wouldn’t be any particular secret.

This is ridiculous. Lan Wangji should simply turn around and walk away. Whatever the reason is for that suspicious look in Wei Ying’s eyes, and the way his voice drops low and secret in the air between them, it can’t… it can’t lead anywhere good.

“What sort of ghost?” he asks, and his hand tightens around Bichen’s sheath in self-admonishment even as the words leave his mouth.

Wei Ying darts another small glance off to the side, as though pondering his answer. “A mischievous one,” he says then, with another shifty look that seems to be trying to tell Lan Wangji more than what the words are saying.

Lan Wangji stares back at him, resisting the urge to step away, to put a little more distance between the two of them. He can still smell the traces of alcohol on Wei Ying’s breath, and it sends a ribbon of irritation through him. Lan Wangji had been rather surprised last night after dinner when Wei Ying tried to entice him to sneak out after dark on some foolhardy adventure. Lan Wangji had of course refused, the roil of surprise quickly giving way to a quiet fury, because what on earth could Wei Ying have been thinking? As reckless as he is, Lan Wangji had thought surely even Wei Ying must have taken on some lesson from his experience of the punishment rod. But of course, he had not. Lan Wangji does not understand how this man moves through the world with his shamelessness on full display at every moment and doesn’t even mind.

In any case, Wei Ying had merely shrugged at Lan Wangji’s adherence to the rules and slipped out the window, disappearing into the night. It had taken Lan Wangji an inordinate amount of time to quell his fury enough to fall asleep, which, frankly, was also Wei Ying’s fault. And who knows if Wei Ying bothered to sleep at all, busy as he was carousing with whatever reprobates he could find about the town in the middle of the night.

Lan Wangji should really tell Uncle about Wei Ying’s behavior when they return to the Cloud Recesses. He should have told Brother this morning, come to that. He won’t, because he does not care to have any more conversations than necessary with his family members about Wei Ying or whatever Wei Ying might have been up to. But it would serve Wei Ying right if he did.

Mischievous ghost indeed. Lan Wangji suddenly finds it notable that he has seen no sign of Jiang Chang or Nie Huaisang yet this morning either. If Wei Ying thinks he can lure Lan Wangji onto some hoax of a mission merely to find himself made fun of by Wei Ying and his compatriots—well. Lan Wangji has no interest in playing along.

“Your cultivation is adequate. You can take care of a ghost,” Lan Wangji says. And then he forces himself to turn on his heel and carry on in the direction of the inn.

“What?” Wei Ying says, sounding genuinely baffled. Then there’s a flurry of movement as Wei Ying scrambles in front of him again, pressing both palms to Lan Wangji’s chest to stop him in his tracks. It makes Lan Wangji’s insides go infuriatingly weak and wobbly, his eyes flicking to either side of them before he can suppress the urge, to see if anyone around them has noticed this inappropriate intimacy. Fortunately no one seems to be paying them much attention, and Wei Ying seems to realize his mistake. He blinks down at his hands, then gives Lan Wangji a blindingly ingratiating smile and dusts off the front of Lan Wangji’s robes, as though carefully removing his own fingerprints. “Lan Zhan,” he cajoles. “You don’t understand. You see, the rumors say that there’s this haunted ruin just beyond the edge of town, off in the woods.” His eyes are doing that thing again, speaking in a language Lan Wangji can’t interpret. “People have heard noises. Suspicious noises. The sort of noises that, ah… that seem like they could maybe be enlightening. You know, for the future.”

Enlightening? For the future?

Lan Wangji has no earthly idea what that is supposed to mean. But the last thing he wishes to do is to admit that to Wei Ying, so instead he simply glares at him.

“I can go on my own, obviously,” Wei Ying says, shrugging a shoulder. “But, I mean, since we’re friends now, I figured what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t take you along and make sure you got to see—I mean. Help with. The ghost.”

It coils uncomfortably in his stomach. Lan Wangji isn’t sure exactly when Wei Ying decided they were friends. He does not feel he was consulted on the matter.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way,” Wei Ying says, leaning in closer and making a secretive face, “but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who has a lot of experience with… ghosts. In general.”

Lan Wangji really has no idea what they’re talking about at this point. The idea that he has never vanquished a simple ghost before is entirely ludicrous—even Wei Ying must realize that. Is he still intoxicated? “We vanquished a vengeful spirit just last night,” he says. Admittedly this particular spirit’s vengeance was not all that threatening…

Wei Ying rolls his eyes, huffing in frustration. “Not that kind of ghost, I mean—” He flails a hand toward the woods. “You know. The mischievous ones. In the woods. The ones I was just telling you about, that kind.”

What kind?? Lan Wangji wants to burst out.

But that would be undignified.

This is precisely why every conversation with Wei Ying is so infuriating. He either speaks in riddles or says shameless things, and always seems to press himself too close for Lan Wangji to be able to think properly.

Wei Ying sighs. “Fine, whatever,” he says, his mouth pulling into another pout. “I guess I’ll just have to go by myself then. But don’t blame me when you finally find yourself facing down a ghost and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. I tried my best…” He shakes his head pityingly and wanders away, clearly dawdling in his steps. A short distance away, he slows to a stop and glances back at Lan Wangji imploringly.

Lan Wangji grits his teeth.

This is not a good idea. It is extremely likely that whatever scheme Wei Ying has cooked up will result in Lan Wangji’s mortification, because every single interaction Lan Wangji has with Wei Ying seems to do so. But Lan Wangji is weak. He cannot bring himself to walk away, and it seems that the only way Lan Wangji is going to get any proper answers to his questions is to go along with Wei Ying’s request.

He raises his chin and takes a step forward, then another. Fine, he will come along. But he will be watchful, and he will not let down his guard. He will not allow Wei Ying to make a fool of him yet again.

Wei Ying’s smile spreads wide and wicked as Lan Wangji falls in step beside him. Lan Wangji hopes he will not come to regret this decision.

~      ~      ~

This is such a terrible idea, Lan Wangji thinks to himself as he follows Wei Ying off the beaten path and out into the woods. Wei Ying’s strides are purposeful and confident even as the forest closes around them, shadow and light flickering over them by turns, and with each step Lan Wangji can feel a little more unsteadiness in the ground beneath him. A little less path and more soil.

There might not even be a ghost, Lan Wangji muses grimly. It would hardly be out of character for Wei Ying, who has somehow wormed his way beneath Lan Wangji’s skin and seems to take a perverse joy in making Lan Wangji uncomfortable, to go to these lengths to set him up for a joke.

But then, there is of course the small and fading possibility that he is telling the truth. That there really is a ghost, and for some strange reason Wei Ying feels it will be beneficial to Lan Wangji to accompany him in dealing with it. And if that’s true—if indeed he wants Lan Wangji’s company…

No. That’s absurd. It must be a ruse of some kind.

This is such a terrible idea.

As Lan Wangji wrestles with the shadows and light beneath his skin, Wei Ying is quite shamelessly narrating the tale of last night’s drinking adventures. Even Wei Ying is usually more discreet than this in concealing his transgressions from Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji considers pointing out that this entire trip is essentially a long night hunt under the banner of the Gusu Lan, and that therefore drinking is still forbidden. But then it seems unlikely that Wei Ying would care.

“…so apparently he used to have a thing with the barmaid—which seems crazy, she was way cuter than him, honestly. And she poured really good portions, which I guess sometimes gets her in trouble with her boss—but she told us she didn’t mind running the risk for us, she’s just grateful to have cultivators in town for a change, since we usually have better stories to tell than boring old merchants or whoever. Jiang Cheng looked like he was going to spontaneously combust he was so embarrassed, especially when she gave us a freebie of the chestnuts, and then she said I was much nicer than those Jin cultivators who passed through last—”

“Have you learned anything that is pertinent to this task?” Lan Wangji interrupts briskly. He does not care to hear any more about the barmaid, or her opinions on Wei Ying’s character.

Wei Ying almost trips over a branch, flailing to catch his balance, but his smile is unfazed when he catches up to Lan Wangji again. Lan Wangji has tried to get used to the feeling of being stabbed in the chest that seems to occur whenever Wei Ying looks at him like that, but he hasn’t been entirely successful.

“We’re pretty close to the time the ghosts usually come out, I think,” Wei Ying says, looking around them as though judging the precise angle of the sun. Again, the sideways glance he throws in Lan Wangji’s direction sends a swell of unease through Lan Wangji. “Though sometimes you have to wait a bit, people say. And sometimes they come early, you never know—it’s kind of a crap shoot.”

Lan Wangji gives a gruff hum. It’s not terribly useful information, but at least it is on topic. “Then we should not delay,” he says. Even to himself it sounds rigid and boring, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the path ahead of them, ignoring whatever mockery Wei Ying might send his way.

There’s the little huff of a laugh, and Lan Wangji feels a curl of shame inside him, though he wrestles it down. “No, we absolutely should not,” Wei Ying agrees. Though it sounds earnest, there is also something else underneath it. Lan Wangji can’t help looking sideways. The sneaky, clever sparkle in Wei Ying’s eyes as he looks back is like hot coals pressed against his skin.

Lan Wangji hates this feeling. He is a very accomplished young man, skilled at all the endeavors that are important in a Lan cultivator. His brother depends on him. His uncle considers him a good student. He is diligent in the advancement of his cultivation, and he uses his abilities to aid those in need of help when he is called upon. He has done everything in his power to live up to the standard of behavior that has been set for him all his life.

It is unfair that Wei Ying’s very presence should tie his stomach into knots, and that he’s been walking around feeling like he just sat down in cow dung in front of an entire class of students all summer. For weeks.

“Hey, do you know if your brother ever managed to sort out the lake thing?” Wei Ying asks.

Lan Wangji blinks, his mind running slowly to catch up with this turn in the conversation. They haven’t encountered anything involving a lake on this journey. “What lake?”

“You know, the Biling Lake thing,” Wei Ying says with a careless flick of his hand, tugging up the hem of his robes as he steps over a fallen tree branch. “Those monsters that were drowning people. I kind of thought we’d go back there to finish the job.”

That is a completely different knot twisting in Lan Wangji’s stomach. It still rankles that they were ineffective in finding and eliminating the root cause of the water spirits in Biling Lake. Given Young Master Wen’s injury, they were forced to return home earlier than planned. “I believe he was able to contain them to a small section of the lake. Beyond that, my brother has not yet decided what action to take,” he says. It’s obfuscating, he knows, even if it’s also the truth. He wonders if Wei Ying will criticize him for it.

“Ah, yeah,” Wei Ying says. “Zewu-jun will come up with a plan, that’s for sure.”

The path through the forest has narrowed the further they’ve traveled, but it is still distinct from the wilderness around them. It seems clear that humans travel this way frequently, though by the looks of things Lan Wangji can’t imagine what for.

“It seems like that amulet has been helping Wen Ning though—hopefully it’ll keep him out of trouble in the future. Not that he’s really the type to get himself into trouble-trouble—if you ask me, getting into a little more trouble could do him some good—but I guess his sister is pretty strict, so.” Wei Ying shrugs, as though the throughline of these thoughts should be self-evident.

“What amulet?” Lan Wangji asks. The words leave his mouth without his conscious input.

Wei Ying blinks at him blankly. “The amulet I made for Wen Ning. You know, when he got injured.”

Something twisting and sour curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach. His skin flushes warm under his robes with how unbecoming it is—Do not covet others’ good fortunes—but he can’t help the sharp ache at imagining Wei Ying presenting a gift of friendship to Wen Ning.

Nobody ever makes him amulets.

“What amulet did you make for him?” Lan Wangji asks, even though he absolutely shouldn’t.

“Just something to protect him against minor spirits and stuff,” Wei Ying says, kicking a rock absentmindedly with his toe. It rolls into Lan Wangji’s path, forcing him to step around it slightly. “It seemed weird that encountering a water spirit would knock him out like that, but then I guess lots of weird things are happening in Gusu lately. Anyway, I thought maybe it would help if he had a protection amulet.”

Casually, just like that. Now that Wei Ying mentions it, Lan Wangji recalls seeing a protective amulet of some kind tied to Wen Ning’s belt the following day, as they made their way back to Cloud Recesses.

Perhaps not so casually, then. Did he stay up all night that night? For Wen Ning?

Lan Wangji’s flush curls deeper. Maybe it wasn’t a friendship offering. Maybe it was something else entirely, what does he even know about Wei Ying.

But, no. The Wen boy might hang on Wei Ying’s every word whenever they are in the same room, but surely he is too young, too timid and too… too young for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying would probably like someone who is self-assured and charming. Who can talk without a stutter around him. Who can speak their own mind.

And who is a girl.

But then again, maybe Wei Ying likes being mindlessly adored. Maybe that’s what makes him want to make presents for people.

Lan Wangji slows to a stop, his skin prickling, when he realizes that Wei Ying has stopped walking. Lan Wangji’s hand goes to his sword, the awareness of their ostensible task rushing in and cutting through his preoccupation. If there is indeed a ghost, it would not do to be caught unawares by it. The trees have thinned out a bit, but beyond that Lan Wangji can see no difference here from the rest of the forest.

Wei Ying looks around with a satisfied smile, as if he is scanning a particularly beautiful vista with not a ghost in sight. It is true that Wei Ying seems to take far too much pleasure in chaos, but something about his attitude puts Lan Wangji on his guard again.

“What?” Lan Wangji demands to know. It comes out maybe a little more sharply than he intends.

“Hm?” Wei Ying says, looking around at him. “Oh.” He shrugs innocently. “Just getting my bearings. I think it’s that way!” He points and then starts marching again.

Lan Wangji loosens his sweaty grip on Bichen. He needs to get a handle on himself. This is entirely too much inner turmoil for a simple ghost elimination, or whatever precisely this turns out to be.

As they walk up a gentle slope, a shape becomes apparent among the greenery. At first it appears to be a mound of overgrown trees, but as the path clears, Lan Wangji realizes they are heading for the ruins of an old stone house.

There’s little left of it but the foundation, a crumbling outer wall that is low on the left side where a fallen tree and several loose stones suggest long-ago damage and nearly its original height on the far right, where one corner of the building seems to have withstood the elements. Roughly in the middle is a gap that seems intentional, the last echo of a doorway. There’s moss and fallen branches spilling out over the walls all the way along, and from this angle it’s impossible to see how much of the inside of the house remains—but with no roof to protect it, it seems the structure is in the process of being reclaimed by the forest.

Wei Ying slows down, and his steps turn stilted and careful. Lan Wangji gives him a skeptical look.

“It’s a secret ghost,” Wei Ying whispers, as if that explains anything. “A bit shy, so we should be careful.”

Lan Wangji peers at him, following at a slight distance, though he refuses to mimic Wei Ying’s creeping posture. A ghost can surely sense them based on their spiritual energy and will not depend on anticipating their approach through their footsteps.

For an uneasy moment, Lan Wangji wonders if this is the point at which he will discover that Wei Ying has indeed set a trap for him. They’ll round the overgrown stone wall, and Wei Ying’s sect brother and friends will jump out of the shadows and laugh at Lan Wangji for how he’s been had, what an absurd tale, how stupid must he be.

Well, perhaps he can’t quite picture the young master of the Jiang clan jumping out from behind a wall to laugh at him. But the Nie boy certainly would.

But as they move closer to the house, Wei Ying appears to be genuinely watchful. He is scanning the area with his eyes, as if he really does expect a ghost to be hiding somewhere out of sight. Lan Wangji’s senses are not picking up anything that isn’t the general aliveness of the forest, but he also knows that they might not be at their most reliable at the moment.

As they approach the worn-away suggestion of a doorway in the wall, Wei Ying slows to a halt and raises an ear to the silence. After a moment, he seems satisfied, and gives a little nod. “Okay, let’s go,” he says, a hushed whisper.

Lan Wangji still doesn’t see why there would be any need to whisper around a ghost. But he also never has trouble being quiet, so he merely nods in response.

There are shapes in the moss-covered ground leading up to the doorway that suggest there might once have been stairs here. Now it’s just a gentle slope up to the break in the wall, where the remains of the main room of the house can be seen. Wei Ying creeps up the little rise, crouching slightly to keep his head below the top of the taller side of the wall as he peers around it carefully. But then he seems to relax, straightening up and motioning for Lan Wangji to follow him through.

Lan Wangji grits his teeth as he does so, preparing himself to be startled and humiliated, and for this whole preposterous adventure to be over in a gale of laughter at his expense. But no laughter comes.

There is indeed no one here.

The flagstones are uneven and cracked beneath Lan Wangji’s feet as he stares around the main room of the ruin. It seems large for a house, but rather small for a temple. There’s no sign of any furniture or any personal possessions—just a square, empty space, with a few large slabs of stone strewn carelessly here and there, and the rotting remains of some roof thatching that seems to have survived a fire. The stone is blackened in the far corner, where the wall is nearly entirely gone, and a large piece of wall has fallen sideways into the space behind the surviving corner, its surface smoothed by rain and wind like an accidentally occurring stone table. Just to the left of the main entrance is another doorway, an opening in the interior wall that comes barely up to chest height at the far end, where a large fallen willow branch has draped its withering leaves over it like a curtain of sorts. The room formed by the interior wall is smaller and much narrower than the main room—perhaps a kitchen, or some private retreat.

The place is wild, not at all refined. Not proper like the tranquility of the Cloud Recesses. But there is something alluring to it, the decay of the building not wretched, but mysterious. The creep of wild vines covers the ruins like a lush blanket, their tendrils curling around the stones like a long-lost lover. A story could be set here. A momentous encounter perhaps, or a secret one.

“Come on,” Wei Ying says, tugging at Lan Wangji’s sleeve again, a terrible sparkle in his eye. His voice is still hushed, too close, and Lan Wangji’s arm seems to burn with the pull of him.

There is not much point in choosing to resist now—he has resigned himself to being led wherever this fool’s errand takes him. He allows Wei Ying drag him through the second doorway and into the smaller chamber, towards the back where the wall is highest and the willow branches are strewn about. As they reach the back corner, Wei Ying pulls him toward a line of fallen stones at the base of the wall, dragging him down into a high kneel. From this position, Lan Wangji can just see over the top of the wall, his vision obscured only by a couple of the willow fronds draping down from a fallen branch overhead.

Wei Ying kneels down next to him, the heat of his shoulder too close all of a sudden as they squeeze together on the available stones. Wei Ying turns to him and presses a finger to his lips to instruct Lan Wangji to remain silent, which seems entirely unnecessary for multiple reasons. Nonetheless, Lan Wangji’s heart beats unnaturally loudly at the suggestion of secrecy.

Then Wei Ying turns back to the wall, his eyes scanning the main room expectantly. His profile is terrible, and his secret smile is even more so.

Nothing happens.

“What are we waiting for?” Lan Wangji asks in a low rasp, after several moments of silence.

“For the ghost to appear,” Wei Ying whispers back. There’s something sly about it, though, and Lan Wangji is more certain than ever at this point that there is a hidden meaning to all of this. No one needs to lie in wait for a ghost. But they have been here for quite some time now, and there is still no sign of Jiang Wanyin or Nie Huaisang, or any of Wei Ying’s other habitual companions.

Is Wei Ying setting up someone else? With Lan Wangji? His heart beats a little more quickly at the thought. It would be against the rules and of very poor judgment for a Lan cultivator, much less the sect leader’s younger brother, to participate in the abasement of someone else. He doesn’t know how he would explain himself if anyone were to hear of it.

There’s a rustle in the trees, and Lan Wangji’s gaze snaps towards the sound. Wei Ying’s hand clutches at his arm again, his touch like fire as it tugs Lan Wangji down to conceal them both entirely behind the wall.

He glares at Wei Ying in confusion but does not try to straighten up. “Shhh,” Wei Ying says, his whisper weaving through the rustle of the leaves.

This is nonsensical. Lan Wangji does not like it. He feels out of balance, crouching here in the middle of nowhere, hiding from footsteps as if he were a child who had stolen a sweet bun. It’s the same way he always feels when he is waiting for a joke he doesn’t understand to resolve itself.

There is a tiny ripple of spiritual energy as Wei Ying affixes a talisman to the wall. The writing is sloppy and altogether garish, but seems as if it will serve its purpose.

“Don’t shout,” Wei Ying says in a low, but clear voice. Then he peers out over the wall and gives a satisfied smile, nodding. “That should hold, I think. As long as we don’t scream or whatever.”

“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji demands to know, glancing at the muffling talisman and then back up at Wei Ying. Despite the fact that there is no longer any need to whisper, he still finds the words sticking in his throat like they’re trying to climb out sideways.

Wei Ying gives him a catlike smile. “I told you, you’ll see.”

Lan Wangji glares up at him. “If we are here to suppress a ghost, we do not require a silencing talisman.” It speaks volumes that Wei Ying even has these at the ready, like some pernicious evildoer or… or someone who wants to talk in the library.

“Ease up, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying says brightly. “It’s just so we don’t disturb anybody, that would be rude.”

Lan Wangji straightens up to ask who, precisely, Wei Ying is concerned about disturbing in this abandoned ruin. But before he can get the words out, there’s movement in the corner of his vision as someone appears at the threshold of the dilapidated hall, and he instinctively ducks down again.

A quiet little giggle drifts over to them.

Dark realization begins to stir at the back of Lan Wangji’s mind. He may not be as worldly as Wei Ying, but the points of evidence are beginning to connect themselves in his head—the secret yet protected space, the muffling charms, Wei Ying’s satisfied grin.

It is a prank after all.

At his expense.

“Everything’s so strict in the Cloud Recesses,” Wei Ying says, that glint back in his eye, as if he can see the pieces coming together behind Lan Wangji’s eyes. “I knew you’d get all weird about it if I blurted it out, but I just couldn’t pass up this chance for you. See, this is apparently the hot spot in town for people who want to make out in secret. Everyone knows about it.”

Lan Wangji is so helplessly angry on the inside that he feels his head might explode.

Wei Ying seems to see this as well, and he rolls his eyes again, making an admonishing click with his teeth. “Ah, don’t be so scandalized, Lan Zhan! How are you going to know what to do with a girl if you never try to learn? You’re not scared, are you?”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and rises up into a high kneel again, glancing from Wei Ying out into the main room. Through the willow fronds they can see two people now, one a little taller than the other, curled close together near the table-like stone in the protected space behind the high wall. They have their arms around each other but they’re not actually kissing. They seem to be speaking to each other in low voices, hands roaming over shoulders and around waists, the intimacy between them on clear display.

Lan Wangji’s pulse is racing, an uncomfortable flush spreading all over him. This is intolerable. He is not going to stand for this. Better to end it now and bear the shame for a moment than to prolong it any further. With any luck, they can rely on the couple’s wish to hide the truth of their shameful meeting to prevent them from reporting this incident to anyone else.

He stands up.

“No, no, no, no, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps, grabbing his arm and yanking him back down to his knees. Lan Wangji nearly blasts him through the side wall. “We can’t go out now, that would embarrass them terribly! Girls especially are very sensitive to being embarrassed. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”

It throws him off balance enough that he can’t think of a proper response, and Wei Ying seems to feel his reasoning is convincing enough that he can safely let go of Lan Wangji’s arm. Wei Ying turns back to the couple embracing beneath the shadow of the high wall, and against his better judgement, Lan Wangji follows suit. The taller of the two is facing in their direction now, his hands roaming up and down the shorter one’s spine. Their robes are plain and unadorned, rough but sturdy cloth that seems suitable for travel or labor. The shorter one’s robes are an indistinct brown, but the robes on the taller one have been dyed a summer-bright blue. They wear no ornaments in their hair, but neither is it tied up all the way for a day’s work in the fields. They wear it half down, as if they might have been strolling through the marketplace on a free afternoon.

The tall one’s hand sinks into the hair of the shorter person then to tilt their face upwards for a kiss, mindless of any impropriety.

They should not be here. They should absolutely not be watching this.

There’s something terribly intimate about the way the man’s fingers tangle with his partner’s hair. Something possessive and close. Lan Wangji imagines unbidden what that kind of tug would feel like against his scalp, or what it would be like to just grab the one you want and kiss them like that.

The shorter person sinks willingly into the embrace, back arched and hands grasping. Then there is a tugging aside of robes, a press of hips, and all at once the shorter person throws his head back with a gasp.

Hot awareness runs all through Lan Wangji’s body. The shorter person is a man. They are both men. He can’t say why he’s so sure, but something about the movements, the angles, the glimpse of his face, the slide of his hands up his partner’s arms is unmistakable. Lan Wangji knows.

He peers over at Wei Ying, his heart in his throat. Wei Ying is wearing a dazed sort of smile, but he’s not laughing. He’s not mocking Lan Wangji, not like that day in the library.

“Told you it comes with a lot of benefits to be my friend,” Wei Ying says with a smug little raise of his eyebrows. This seems an utterly bizarre statement under the circumstances, because Lan Wangji can’t imagine in what way this mortification is a benefit to anyone, but Wei Ying’s sideways grin makes Lan Wangji’s stomach twist and turn helplessly like a fish on a hook.

The two men are still kissing, and beneath the layer of shame at bearing witness to this, Lan Wangji feels a strange sort of emptiness. There is a void inside him that seems to stretch beyond the ground, swallowing up more of him with every heartbeat.

He should go. He needs to go. Perhaps he can weave a spell that will allow him to leave without being seen, simply leap over the wall behind them and disappear into the woods. It is clear now that there are no girls to embarrass, and these men are not cultivators, will not be able to sense him under the cover of a spell…

He stays rooted to the spot.

The two figures are slowing down in their movements, urgent grasping settling into slow, lingering kisses. The taller man’s hands are cradling the face of his partner, curling around the back of his neck and over his shoulders, and then there’s… there’s a gentle push. Downwards.

The shorter man sinks to his knees, and all at once Lan Wangji can’t breathe.

“Ooh boy,” Wei Ying mumbles, his voice raspy. “That’s quite an adventurous little lady!” He sounds almost admiring.

The heat that rushes beneath Lan Wangji’s robes is almost cutting off his air.

Little lady. Does he not know? Can he not tell?

Wei Ying elbows Lan Wangji in the ribs, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I swear they only said it’s for making out. Didn’t know we were in for quite this much of a show.”

It sounds mocking and stupid and bizarre, but it doesn’t sound like a lie. Somehow Wei Ying truly had the impression that this would all be far more innocent than it has turned out to be.

It beats under Lan Wangji’s skin, a strange awareness, a turning over of something he had not thought was upside down. Lan Wangji might not move smoothly through the world like Wei Ying does, or read spring books as though they were the ancient texts. He might not have friends who make a habit of whispering to each other about filthy things and the people one might do them with. But he would not have made this mistake.

Why would you come to a place like this and not want more, if it was offered? If you could sink your hands into someone’s hair, kiss them on their devilish mouth, feel them melt against you. Why would anyone wish to stop at that?

He’s never seen anything like this in his life. He’s barely dared to fantasize about it—stopped himself, mostly, when his mind ran away with him and began to conjure images unbidden. Of what people do. What men might do.

He doesn’t know what it would feel like to have someone slide to their knees in front of him, but the thought of someone else’s hands clutching at the front of his robes like that, grasping for the most intimate parts of him, is making him sweat under the arms, his heart hammering.

The kneeling man is tugging at his partner’s belt and peeling aside the layers, taking his time to loosen them and find the gap between the robes. His hands are light, gentle. Almost teasing. As if he is the one leading everything along despite being on his knees.

Even at this distance, even through the cover of the branches, Lan Wangji can see the standing man’s face. He’s not much older than they are, with a strong jaw and soft eyes, and the bliss and anticipation in his expression cuts Lan Wangji to the core.

“But, yeah, even better.” Wei Ying’s voice has a rasp to it. “We can take some notes, right?”

It zings through him—he darts a glance over, but Wei Ying is still staring at the couple in the main hall, apparently unaware that he’s just implied he is as inexperienced as Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s mouth goes dry.

But then he turns his head back to… to what is happening in front of them. There is a strip of the standing man’s bare torso on display down the middle, but the kneeling man’s position obscures what is happening below the waist of his trousers. Still, as there’s a tug and a slip of fabric, Lan Wangji catches the moment when the kneeling man finds what he’s looking for. It’s written all over his body language, a sudden focus, stillness.

Lan Wangji holds his breath, his palms sweaty by his side. There is barely a glimpse of flesh as the kneeling man takes hold of the standing man’s sex and leans closer, but from the way the kneeling man moves his head it’s clear what is happening. How they’ve fit themselves together.

There’s a rush in Lan Wangji’s ears, his entire skin aflame. The heaviness between his legs makes him aware of each heartbeat.

For a moment he doesn’t even care that Wei Ying set him up for this—even if Wei Ying didn’t realize what exactly he was setting Lan Wangji up for. He just watches, lets the reality of this happening right in front of him sink into his skin.

Lan Wangji knows he should admonish Wei Ying for committing such a breach of privacy, and for making Lan Wangji a party to it. Their presence here is unseemly. The two men would be mortified if they knew they had an audience. For a flash of a second Lan Wangji imagines someone watching him in such an intimate moment, and it seems truly unthinkable. He might die on the spot.

But then… maybe they wouldn’t be so mortified. The ease with which the standing man is thrusting into the other man’s mouth seems confident, like he has no qualms about what he is doing or how it might look to anyone, like it doesn’t worry him at all. He breathes out a low moan and sinks his hands deeper into the kneeling man’s hair, and the kneeling man clasps wantonly at his hips.

Lan Wangji hears a little huff of breath beside him, and glances over before he can think better of it. There are spots of heat spreading over Wei Ying’s cheeks, and his eyes have a wide shine to them as he stares at the two men in the main room. In this moment the sight of his glazed eyes and gently parted lips is even more mesmerizing than the two men’s joining.

Wei Ying is aroused. It hits Lan Wangji like a knock to his chest, stealing his breath. Wei Ying thinks the man pleasuring the other is a woman. It must be like one of his spring books come to life. Perhaps he imagines himself in the role of the standing man, with some woman on her knees before him.

Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to do with himself. Every moment he keeps watching—the men, the thrusting, the flush on Wei Ying’s face—feels like holding his hand over a lit candle, sharp and burning hotter, too much, and yet still he can’t seem to stop.

There’s a whisper and a low giggle. The rhythm seems to falter. Lan Wangji can’t stop staring at the hand clasped in the kneeling man’s hair, the way it tugs gently. Not harsh at all, but casually guiding, bringing them to a pause. The standing man says something inaudible and pets the kneeling man’s face. Lan Wangji doesn’t follow what they are figuring out, but suddenly the kneeling man is standing up, and in the rearrangement Lan Wangji gets a full view of the standing man’s exposed erection.

There’s a buzz in Lan Wangji's head, and for a moment he’s not following at all. He almost startles when the shorter man moves in close again, pressing their bodies together for a passionate kiss. They sway, turn a little, and for the first time Lan Wangji can see the shorter man’s profile. He’s smiling into the kiss, his robes tugged loose at the collar to reveal a triangle of smooth, firm skin.

Lan Wangji hears Wei Ying’s sharp intake of breath. He’s finally realized. A rush of blood runs all the way through Lan Wangji, and he stays very still, does not dare to look over.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying’s hand grips his elbow, and Lan Wangji nearly combusts on the spot. All right, yes, it is indeed good that Wei Ying is apparently entirely oblivious to the effect that this situation is having on Lan Wangji, but could he perhaps not? “Lan Zhan, they’re both men!”

Lan Wangji says nothing. His instinct is to keep his gaze turned forward and simply decline to react, but then he realizes that Wei Ying is now watching him watch the men and show no signs of surprise or disgust, and it makes his heart race even faster.

But what else could he do? If he tries to act as though he did not realize, Wei Ying will undoubtedly see through him instantly. Lan Wangji is not adept at deception.

Wei Ying’s hand on his arm loosens a bit, then goes tight again for a heart-stopping moment. Then it slips away.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says raspily, turning back to the scene in front of them.

The men are talking to each other. Through the buzz in his ears, Lan Wangji dares a tiny peek sideways. Wei Ying attention is all back on the men, the flush still in his cheeks. He looks more nervous than before, and a little spellbound. His eyes go wider suddenly.

Lan Wangji whips his head around to see what has startled him. The two men have moved behind the stone slab now, the shorter man all but disappeared behind the tall one as he draws the taller man’s robes down over his shoulders and casts them aside. The tall man’s trousers have slid down around his thighs, barely visible over the stone slab, and Lan Wangji stares breathlessly as the tall man strokes his own erection, eyes falling closed. Even at this distance he can tell it’s wet, and he imagines what that slickness, that heat must feel like when it’s someone else’s hardness instead of his own.

He’s absorbed enough that he initially misses the direction of what is happening when the taller man releases his grip on his erection and bends forward, bracing himself against the edge of the stone slab. The shorter man, the one whom Wei Ying thought was the woman, is standing behind him with his robes hanging open. Lan Wangji can’t see exactly what he’s doing where his body disappears behind the other man’s shoulders, but he seems to be taking hold of his partner’s hips, stepping closer and…

They will do it as in the drawing, Lan Wangji realizes with a swooping like that first blink of alcohol, moments before he passed out. The drawing Wei Ying tormented him with.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers. “Do you think they’re going to…”

Oh good grief. Yes of course they are going to, it’s happening right there in front of them.

Lan Wangji can’t look away. The shorter man is fumbling around with his own trousers and it’s crude and vulgar and terribly arousing to watch. The taller man adjusts his position lower, bracing on his elbows instead of his hands, and all of a sudden there is a much larger swath of flank and thigh on display behind him. There is a whole second erection right there in Lan Wangji’s view. Naked.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says weakly.

Everything seems to be happening very fast and very slow at the same time. Lan Wangji thinks at first that it looks strange and mechanical as the shorter man steps up behind the tall man’s… behind the apex of his thighs—but then the motion ripples through the tall man as he is penetrated, a soft moan falling from his lips. An echo of the feeling seems to shudder all the way through Lan Wangji.

It’s still slow and strange at first, as if they are both finding their bearings, but then it becomes faster, more rhythmic, and Lan Wangji breaks out in sweat under his robes. The man getting fucked closes his eyes, his hips moving as though to meet the man behind him with each thrust.

It’s almost as if Lan Wangji and Wei Ying have been dragged down beneath the surface of the cold pool again, and landed in some strange and unexpected place that isn’t entirely real.

Wei Ying is watching, too, barely breathing, no further commentary forthcoming. Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to make of that at all, but at least it means that Wei Ying is not looking back at him. He just kneels there, utterly still as he keeps watching the two men’s coupling.

There’s a soft slapping sound that hooks itself into a pool of heat in Lan Wangji’s stomach. He thinks he hears another soft oh beside him but his ears are rushing and he can’t be sure.

It all turns faster then, a blurring of obscene and mesmerizing that ripples over Lan Wangji’s skin. The man bent over the ledge has his eyes screwed shut and even through the fog in his mind Lan Wangji can tell the man must be approaching his climax. He is not even touching himself, or being touched.

Lan Wangji can’t quite imagine what it must feel like to be penetrated like that, or what it would feel like to be inside somebody, but it’s like there’s a hidden understanding etched beneath his skin. He can’t grasp the shape of it but he knows he… he wants. He wants to know. Everything.

The shorter man thrusts his hips forward in ever sharper motions and makes an almost plaintive grunting noise. His thrusts are suddenly erratic, desperate, and Lan Wangji feels his own erection throb with heat beneath his robes.

The noise and the frenzy all seems to wind itself higher, until the taller man shifts his weight to one elbow and reaches down between his legs, his hand is working his erection so fast it’s nearly a blur, and suddenly the other man’s hips snap tight against him. Streaks of white spill from the taller man’s sex, painting the surface of the stone.

Lan Wangji thinks he can hear Wei Ying suck in a breath. Lan Wangji is holding his own breath as tight and steady as he can, hoping to suppress any unfortunate sounds of his own.

The shorter man thrusts his hips against his partner’s behind a few more times before he lets out another gasping groan, pressed tight and hard against the cleft of the other man’s thighs. The man slumped forward is laughing softly, and then something shifts and the shorter man seems to go boneless and slack, leaning forward to drape himself over the other man’s back in a strange sort of embrace. It looks warm and protective somehow, even as exposed and untidy as they both are.

Lan Wangji swallows. His throat is so dry he can feel it scratch.

For an odd moment, he almost expects the two men to sit down and stay, to find a place to relax and whisper more silly things at each other. Wrap themselves in each other’s naked skin.

But soon the shorter man is straightening up again, and they both begin to tidy themselves up, searching for discarded clothing and wrapping themselves in layers as if they’ve done nothing more scandalous than go out for a stroll. At one point the shorter man’s fiddling with his belt is interrupted by the tall one swooping in for a kiss, sweet and sure.

Lan Wangji does not move, and he does not look over. If Wei Ying is having opinions, for once he is keeping them to himself.

The men hold each other by the hand as they slip out of the ruins, casual and easy like the world is still the same and the ground beneath them is solid.

It’s gone so quiet. The usual forest whispers in the background feel quiet.

At any moment he expects a joke, or worse.

“Well,” Wei Ying says. He sounds off balance, as though he’s having trouble finding his usual casual confidence. “I don’t know why they only told me the harmless version, but… well.”

Lan Wangji lowers his head. He is suddenly deeply, achingly aware of his arousal and how it is pressing against the front of his robes, nearly pushing them to brush against the wall. Wei Ying does not show signs of having noticed, and Lan Wangji is tempted to turn his body away slightly to conceal his state, or shift his sleeves to better obscure it—but such a movement would be entirely obvious, and thus counterproductive.

“You okay, Lan Zhan?”

The question surprises him. Against his better judgment, he turns his head.

Wei Ying still has that flush in his cheeks. His eyes are dark and a little wide, but he seems to be trying to focus on Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji is not, by many definitions of the word, okay. He feels utterly exposed, knows in his bones that his only opportunity to escape this situation with his dignity intact was the one he did not take, the one he allowed Wei Ying to talk him out of. But that is neither here nor there. He is here now, and whatever comes of this, he will face it with whatever scraps of dignity he has left.

He nods his head in a slow, jerky motion.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says, an awkward smile pulling at his mouth. He does seem sorry, but he also seems… something else. Thrown, perhaps. He gestures vaguely towards the empty main room, the slab the one man leaned against while allowing the other into his body. “I guess… I mean. That’s not going to be super helpful with girls, huh.”

Indeed it will not. But then nothing would have been, for Lan Wangji.

He should simply say no. That is the truth, and it is what Wei Ying expects.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lan Wangji says instead, and it sends another hot flush down his back. Too much. He should not. And yet, his blood seems to be beating like a tide against a floodgate, his pulse thundering in his ears like revolutionary warriors marching closer and closer to the city walls. Before he can stop himself, he speaks the whole of it. “I have no interest. In girls.”

Wei Ying’s brows twitch inward for a moment, his lashes fluttering with a soft, confused blink. Then his eyes go slightly wider, and he glances over at the stone slab where the taller man’s seed is still drying in the sunlight, then back at Lan Wangji with renewed and all too accurate understanding.

“Oh,” he says, his voice a rasp again. Lan Wangji can see him swallow. “Right. Right. That. So.” The words run out then, and Wei Ying simply stares at him.

Lan Wangji feels a shiver of mortification deep inside, the air of the forest heavy around them. But he makes himself hold Wei Ying’s eyes, bears up beneath Wei Ying’s flailing or his shock or his scorn, or whatever it is.

Wei Ying licks his lips, swallows again. Lan Wangji can almost feel it in his own parched throat. “So I guess… it was helpful then. Like that. Right?”

Lan Wangji feels thrown for a moment—it is not the response he expected, and he has no answer to it. He did not wish to have a stealth lesson in how to perform a coupling thrust upon him, much less with Wei Ying right beside him, and now he is kneeling here fully, helplessly aroused with no means of relief or escape at hand. He has revealed more of himself to this terrible, beautiful man than he ever wished anyone to see, and he is suddenly feeling entirely stripped bare.

What was he thinking? What will Wei Ying do with this?

Lan Wangji will have to leave. If not Gusu, then at least the Cloud Recesses. At least until Wei Ying and his friends have all returned to their clans, so that Lan Wangji can have solitude to wallow in his misery and embarrassment in peace.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says. Then he smiles. But somehow it is not his noisy, terrifying smile—it’s a soft, wondrous little thing that seems to shift the ground beneath them slowly, gently. Wei Ying’s eyes sweep over Lan Wangji’s face as if seeing him in a fresh beam of sunlight. “I thought you were such a fuddy duddy, but here you are, being all, like. Wild. Watching two guys fuck in the middle of the woods.”

Lan Wangji swallows again. “We should go,” he says. The dryness of his voice makes the air crack.

“Yes, yeah… of course,” Wei Ying says, his eyes distracted with thoughts. Lan Wangji wants to know what they are, and is also terrified to find out. “I mean, we’ve sure seen what we came here for, right? And, uh.” He blinks, swallows. Gives an unsteady, crooked smile. “A little more.” His eyes are hazy as he looks Lan Wangji over again, his eyes drifting lower until… Lan Wangji realizes too late to shift away, does not see it coming until Wei Ying’s eyes have caught on the front of Lan Wangji’s robes, just below his belt.

Hot embarrassment shoots through Lan Wangji, and he lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. He makes himself stay still, as if that will in some way draw less attention, not make it worse.

Wei Ying stares shamelessly for a long moment before his gaze travels back over to where the men were. His lips part softly, and he looks at Lan Wangji again, a new and terrible awareness in them.

It floods Lan Wangji with a helpless heat, and this time he gets to his feet and turns away, putting a few steps of distance between them. “We should go,” he says again, even though he is facing entirely the wrong way to do so, and in his haste he has left his sword propped against the stone wall. But he cannot bring himself to turn back and see Wei Ying staring at his erection again with the same gobsmacked wonder with which he observed the two men.

“Yeah, uh, probably,” Wei Ying says. He still sounds odd, off balance. There’s a little rustle as Wei Ying gets to his feet behind him, and Lan Wangji’s heart leaps into his throat when he hears Wei Ying moving towards him.

Lan Wangji braces himself to be grabbed again, but thankfully Wei Ying seems to think better of doing so. Perhaps, after what they have witnessed, he will not be so reckless in doing so in the future. Lan Wangji swallows down a sudden tightness at the base of his throat.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying’s says, a little unsteadily. “Have you ever watched two guys do stuff like that before?”

Lan Wangji turns back just far enough to glare at him, despite his better judgement. What sort of utterly absurd question is that? “Of course not,” he says, his voice little more than a weak croak.

Wei Ying nods thoughtfully, as though this was the answer he had expected and also somehow new information. “Me neither,” he says. His words are oddly slow, winding their way out carefully by some circuitous route, instead of spilling forth in his usual stream of prattle. “I never would have thought it would be so…”

It’s in the air between them again somehow, the soft moans, the rhythmic motions, the slapping noises. The gentle touch of a cheek. Lan Wangji’s skin burns at the memory.

“I mean, you know, it’s good to get a well-rounded education, right?” Wei Ying rambles, a little dizzily, breathlessly. “Knowing more than just the standard stuff? Cutsleevery is quite fashionable in some quarters, I hear, you don’t want to be behind the times…”

The words are little more than Wei Ying's usual nonsense but there’s an odd drift to everything, and his eyes seem to catch and hold on Lan Wangji. It’s not mocking or smooth, but it feels sharp nonetheless.

The flush in his face. The questions.

Lan Wangji’s eyes sweep over the length of Wei Ying in a moment of weakness, and all at once his entire body freezes solid as he spots what is possibly, possibly a gentle swelling at the front of Wei Ying’s fine white student robes, below his waist.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, soft, somehow inviting.

They should go. They should absolutely go. Now.

Wei Ying shouldn’t stand there and look him up and down like that, like he’s only just realized in the last five minutes that Lan Wangji might have a cock under his robes. Like the knowledge is in some way interesting to him.

Then again, by all rights, Wei Ying should never have seen any evidence of Lan Wangji’s cock. Lan Wangji has worked hard to keep things that way.

“We should go,” Lan Wangji says again. Standing still.

Wei Ying’s throat bobs again on a hard swallow. “Sure, maybe. Or we could…” He flicks his eyes up and looks at Lan Wangji straight-on. The only sign of his nervousness is the flutter in his chest as he breathes in, then out again. “Stay.”

Need and want and a tipsy shot of yearning flare through Lan Wangji then, and he knows all at once he is not strong enough to resist it. Not now that he’s here. Not if more is on offer.

Wei Ying takes a step closer. Waits, then takes another, and stops. Right there. With barely a breath between them.

Lan Wangji can feel the heat coming off Wei Ying’s face. Their mouths are so close that Lan Wangji can see the softness of Wei Ying’s lips. His breath is shuddering out hard enough it feels like an embarrassing huff, but Wei Ying—infuriating, mocking, cocky Wei Ying—just looks back at him with a shimmer in his eyes, before he nips forward and touches their lips together.

It’s brief and dry. Lan Wangji feels like he’s just been hit with a curse, or maybe a whip. For a moment Wei Ying only blinks at him, looking shy, and that does something terrible and uncontrollable to Lan Wangji’s insides, like they’re both shivering in cold water, seeking each other’s warmth. Before he has a chance to think it through, Lan Wangji grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him back.

Wei Ying gasps, but his hands clutch at Lan Wangji in a way that holds him close. Their teeth clank and there’s a sharp little sting but Lan Wangji doesn’t care. His mouth is on Wei Ying’s and there’s warmth and softness and it’s almost like someone is touching his cock, it’s so arousing.

Somewhere through the haze of want it comes back to him, the way the men embraced, the way their mouths fit together. His neck burns with the shamelessness of it all when he tries to do the same, lets his mouth fall open and taste more of Wei Ying. He wonders for a moment if Wei Ying will push him away, but Wei Ying only makes a small helpless sound and presses himself closer.

He can feel Wei Ying’s erection through the elegant robes now, and it’s… it’s definitely real, and sizeable. The thought leaves him dizzy, he’s seen two cocks already today, and now he is touching one with his body, and it’s Wei Ying’s.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps out, smushed between kisses, as if he’s trying to say something comprehensible. But he seems to lose the thread of it as soon as the words have left his mouth, and Lan Wangji does not have the wherewithal to ask. They’re stumbling over the moss-covered stones, a rock catching Lan Wangji’s heel and nearly sending them tumbling to the ground—but Wei Ying catches him around the waist, startling a gasp out of him. Wei Ying’s arm feels tight around him, maneuvering him sideways until somehow they end up with Lan Wangji pressing Wei Ying against the highest bit of the inner wall, half hidden in a curtain of willow fronds.

Lan Wangji can’t tell if they are being as good at kissing as the two men they watched—all things considered, it seems unlikely—but Wei Ying keeps making these desperate little noises and rubbing up against him for pressure, and Lan Wangji’s head is spinning with the wonderousness of sensation.

“Guess we both learned something,” Wei Ying says between kisses, with just a hint of his general self-satisfaction. Lan Wangji decides to kiss him more fiercely in response, which swallows up the next clever joke. His hands are jittery and frantic, grabbing at Wei Ying’s shoulders and clenching in the soft fabric, resisting the urge to peel it off of him and bare his skin. With the last shreds of his sense of propriety, he prevents them from wandering lower, seeking out the parts of Wei Ying that are pressed against him so tightly.

“I had no idea watching two guys going at it would turn me on like that, Lan Zhan, I swear,” Wei Ying says breathlessly. “But holy shit, that was… and then I was like, rock hard all of a sudden, and you were right there, and it was like… but I still didn’t know if I wanted to, you know…”

Lan Wangji doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything, and his mind is no longer capable of filling in any blanks. He pulls back slightly, looking Wei Ying in his dark, beautiful eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“…do something about it,” Wei Ying finishes at last, like an afterthought. His gaze is caught on Lan Wangji’s mouth, and Lan Wangji can feel Wei Ying’s hips pulse almost absentmindedly against his own.

“Do you?” Lan Wangji manages, his throat raw as if he’s just stumbled out of a desert into an oasis, and his hands are shaking too much to take a drink.

Wei Ying looks flushed and not entirely with it. But there’s a trembling focus to him as he cups Lan Wangji’s face with one hand, and the touch makes something in Lan Wangji shake deep beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, in belated answer to the question, and then he nods, holds on tighter as Lan Wangji thrusts his hips against him. A moan slips from Wei Ying’s mouth as he drops his head back against the willow fronds, his eyes falling closed and his long neck wantonly exposed. Lan Wangji buries his face there at the base of Wei Ying’s throat, leaving a hot, messy kiss.

It feels like all he can possibly do in the world is to rut himself against Wei Ying, feeling the growing ache in his groin, the responding twists and moans, the need in Wei Ying’s clutching fingers. In all the helpless desperation he’s felt in Wei Ying’s presence since they met, it never once occurred to him that he might one day have Wei Ying writhing in his arms like this, urging him on.

“Touch my dick, please,” Wei Ying says, a thick whisper that seems to spread through Lan Wangji. “Or let me touch it. Let me…” Wei Ying’s hand starts squirming between them, but Lan Wangji reaches down and stops it. They look at each other, both panting slightly. Lan Wangji feels dazed with arousal.

“I will touch it,” he says, letting the brazenness ripple over him.

And then… before he can lose his nerve, he tugs loose Wei Ying’s belt, fumbling his way in between the layers of Wei Ying’s student robe. His skin burns with desire and shame at his own audacity when his hand brushes against Wei Ying’s hardness through his trousers, and Wei Ying gasps and begs. It feels almost unreal when he slips his hand inside, closes his fingers around the hard-soft heat of it, holding Wei Ying’s erection in his hand.

It’s hot and quite heavy, not entirely unfamiliar and yet beautifully new. He grips it the way he would himself, and moves his hand.

Wei Ying moans, his head snapping back against the wall.

“Careful,” Lan Wangji says, faltering. “Do not hurt yourself.”

“All good,” Wei Ying says. He’s bending his head forward again, looking down, though he can’t possibly see much with his own robes bunched up around him like that. “Wow.”

“Is it—” Lan Wangji gathers his focus. He is so aroused he can barely think straight. “Is it all right like this?”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Wei Ying says, thrusting in counterpoint to Lan Wangji’s strokes. “Oh man, all right, it’s fucking all right, all right.”

Lan Wangji still feels quite inept, but at the same time the movements come to him like there’s something natural about them, like he’s supposed to be doing this. His own arousal is a constant thrumming tension but he focuses on the feel of Wei Ying in his hand, and the way Lan Wangji’s touch seems to gradually make him come undone.

At some point he finds Wei Ying’s eyes low but open. He seems to be looking at Lan Wangji’s face while his cock is hard in Lan Wangji’s hand his hips thrusting in counterstroke. A tremble races down Lan Wangji’s back, and he doesn’t know why.

Wei Ying’s hips give a fast, seeking snap. Wei Ying’s mouth is open as he struggles for breath. “Careful, Lan Zhan, I’m going—don’t get it on your robes, I don’t want to—”

Lan Wangji could not possibly care less about his robes right now, and he almost says as much—but then Wei Ying cuts himself off with a tight noise and tenses sharply, biting his lip. His hips are straining up, his movements needy and reckless, and Lan Wangji nearly comes on the spot as he feels Wei Ying’s climax pulse through his cock, spilling over Lan Wangji’s hand and sleeve and staining the folds of Wei Ying’s inner robe.

Wei Ying is heaving in breath after breath, his flush spreading deep and beautiful, his eyes blown wide. “…be rude,” he mumbles belatedly, on a wet breath.

Lan Wangji makes a grunting noise. He has no idea what they’re talking about anymore, and he doesn’t care. He lets himself claim a kiss, and the softness of it, the aftershocks of pleasure he can feel from Wei Ying’s entire body make him shiver with want.

But then he holds himself still. He doesn’t want to pressure or presume. It beats through him like a song, like signal drums, this want. He needs another moment, maybe he needs forever.

He makes an embarrassing noise into Wei Ying’s neck when Wei Ying’s hand drops in between them and squirms its way under his robes.

“Holy fuck,” Wei Ying says, nonsensically, as he finds his way into Lan Wangji’s trousers and takes hold of his burning erection.

Lan Wangji moans. Can’t help himself.

“Is that good?“ Wei Ying asks. “You feel good. Fuck, I never knew… how did I not know this?”

Lan Wangji wants him to be quiet and wants him to never shut up. It makes his ears burn and his breath hitch the way Wei Ying talks about his cock feeling hard and impressive and amazing, Lan Zhan.

It’s strange to have another’s hand perform this act, and Wei Ying’s exploring hand is almost a little too gentle. Lan Wangji wants him to grip harder, move faster, but he can’t seem to form his mouth around the words. It almost doesn’t matter though—Lan Wangji is so wound up at this point that any touch at all is both perfect and torturous.

He’s panting and thrusting, his self-control discarded like an old robe as he chases his need. Wei Ying is holding him tight around the waist to keep him steady, keeping him close, his intent gaze making Lan Wangji weak in the knees. Lan Wangji is entirely too far gone to think to reciprocate Wei Ying’s consideration, so the only warning he manages when the wave sweeps up and over him is a sharp, plaintive moan as he spends himself all over the front of Wei Ying’s robes.

In the aftermath he’s left gasping, leaning heavily into Wei Ying, his knees too weak to keep him upright. He should… stand up, somehow. Pull himself together. Or something of that sort. His mind is casting about like a duckling learning to swim, trying to figure out exactly what he should be doing in a moment like this. But it’s all just water, nothing to grab onto.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says again. He wipes his hand on his own robes, and it sends another fuzzy jitter through Lan Wangji.

“My apologies,” he mumbles when he finally finds the breath, lifting himself off enough to be polite. The front of Wei Ying’s robes are entirely filthy. He can’t stop staring at them. He is a little mortified, but somehow strangely unable to muster true regret.

“Hey, better me than you,” Wei Ying grins. “We got me pretty messy already.” It’s his usual nonsense, but he’s also blushing slightly, which makes Lan Wangji’s heart beat with an embarrassing thump of fondness.

Wei Ying’s fingers are tugging fussily at Lan Wangji’s collar now, as though trying to straighten him out. His eyes dart around, and he catches a lock of Lan Zhan’s hair between his fingers, twirling it around one, then another, and it’s… In a moment of clarity, Lan Wangji understands. Wei Ying is feeling awkward too.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, but then closes it again. Any words that come to mind seem insufficient, superfluous.

Wei Ying tilts his head, a touch of bravado about it when he says, “Well, I definitely didn’t expect that to happen today…” His babbled words during their tryst drift back to Lan Wangji in bits and pieces. Lan Wangji would never have expected this to happen either—but he, at least, had known before today that he had a desire to be with men. For Wei Ying, this must have been even more disorienting.

Lan Wangji blushes. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, what’s meant to happen now. His focus is coming back and threatening to drag him into all sorts of speculation about whether Wei Ying will come to regret their encounter, or whether he will somehow still use it to make fun of Lan Wangji—but he doesn’t want to go down these mental paths just yet. Wei Ying is still standing in front of him with the heat of their liaison radiating off his body, and Lan Wangji just wants to stand here and not have it be over. Soak up the moment while he can.

“And we haven’t even tried half the things we learned yet!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes snap up.

Yet?

Something shivers in the air as Wei Ying meets his eyes daringly, a flush crawling over his face. Lan Wangji can’t help staring in silence. But then Wei Ying's daring falters between one blink and the next, and he looks away, shrinking slightly into the willow fronds. Lan Wangji feels the loss, and he wants to say something to bring Wei Ying’s eyes back to him again, to let him see whatever that was again, just for a moment—but no words come to mind. The longer Lan Wangji stares at him, the more Wei Ying fidgets, refusing to look at him.

But, that sounded like… is it possible that…

He should ask about it. He doesn’t know how on earth he ever would, but he should.

But when he opens his mouth, what comes out is, “We should return.”

Wei Ying seems to startle, somehow, but he finally looks back up at Lan Wangji.

The question in his face makes Lan Wangji’s throat go dry. And yet, he can’t bring himself to answer it directly, for fear that he has read it wrong. “We have not indicated how long we will be gone,” he says instead. It sounds rough. “People will worry.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, with a slow blink and a settling focus. “Yeah, of course… Though we probably should…” When he looks down his front, Lan Wangji becomes acutely aware of how rumpled and filthy they have left Wei Ying’s robes, and he feels a deep wave of embarrassment as Wei Ying inspects them in consternation.

He wants to help. He knows a few cleaning spells, you can’t dress like a Lan and not know a few tricks…

But then Wei Ying flicks a talisman paper out from the folds of his robes and scrawls a cleaning spell of his own on it. The air ripples lightly as the paper disintegrates against his clothes, and by the time it settles, the worst of the stains have evaporated. Once he straightens himself out, he looks normal enough that no random passerby would be likely to guess what he’s been up to.

Good as new.

Lan Wangji swallows, his hands shaking as he adjusts his own robes. He still feels shaky somehow, in a way he is very much not used to feeling when he’s out in the world, much less with another person there. With Wei Ying there.

He sneaks a glance over at Wei Ying as Wei Ying turns to fetch their swords from where they’d been kneeling as they watched the other men. Where they were when they saw the one man kneel down before the other, and then…

And we haven’t even tried half the things we learned yet…

It sends a hot shiver down his spine as he imagines it, against his own better judgement. Imagines Wei Ying kneeling for him on the flagstones, or perhaps the dark floorboards of his bedroom. Wei Ying taking him into his mouth, just as the other men did, or… or perhaps…

A cold shock races in after the thought, choking off the flutter of arousal.

Other men.

Perhaps. Does Wei Ying… If Wei Ying wishes to try more of what they’ve learned, does that mean he will he want to try those things with other people? Other men?

Someone else?

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji blinks out of his thoughts to find Wei Ying standing in front of him, offering him Bichen with a hesitant look on his face. Lan Wangji accepts the sword belatedly, letting it fall to his side as his other hand finds its place behind his back. His ears are burning, his insides roiling with questions, but he doesn’t know how to give them voice.

“Is everything okay?” Wei Ying asks searchingly. And then, with a crooked smile that cracks at the edges, “You’re not having second thoughts about coming with me on this little ghost hunt now, are you?”

Lan Wangji glares at him, his pulse ratcheting up at being teased now, when he—when they just—

But then he sees the flicker of uncertainty in Wei Ying’s eyes, and remembers the awkwardness in him when he still had his hand inside Lan Wangji’s trousers, feeling him shrink from his orgasm.

“No,” he says. It comes out rough and dry and like the words don’t fit his throat, but at least he manages to speak. “I am not.”

The sudden spark in Wei Ying’s eyes usually spells trouble, but right now Lan Wangji is glad to see it. “Ah, that’s good,” he says, with a sigh. “I’d hate to have anyone saying I dragged the great Hanguang-jun on a wild goose chase.” He turns toward the doorway of the ruin and starts to head back across the moss-covered stones, his sword slung inappropriately casually over his shoulder. Lan Wangji follows him, keeping a careful distance between them as they make their way onto the forest path.

It feels strange to be walking around like this, as if everything were normal and they’ve done nothing more remarkable than vanquish a ghost. Lan Wangji can still feel the stickiness of their engagement against his skin and inside his clothes, and every once in a while when he drifts too close to Wei Ying he can smell the scent of sex on him, which is somehow both embarrassing and thrilling.

He can’t put it out of his mind. He doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to put it out of his mind now. The feeling of Wei Ying in his hand, the sound of him in the throes of pleasure, will stay with him for a very long time, and he can’t imagine wishing them away, even if it does feel deeply undignified to have had his first intimate encounter out in the middle of the forest. But the closer they travel to the village, where he will have to exist around other people with this newfound knowledge in his head, and where he will have to deal with the reality that he might never get to experience the closeness of Wei Ying’s body again, the more he wonders how he will cope.

Next to him, Wei Ying is marvelling at the sound of the wind in the trees, wondering what they'll be serving for dinner at the inn, where he can resupply with alcohol, and how early Lan Xichen will expect them to get up tomorrow to head back to the Cloud Recesses. It’s his usual chatter, which should be annoying in all the usual ways, but there’s a forced rush to it that makes Lan Wangji feel off balance somehow.

What is he going to do? What are things going to be like when they’re back at the Cloud Recesses? When Lan Wangji has regained his stiff sense of propriety, and Wei Ying is back with his friends and busy finding more interesting things to occupy himself with, Lan Wangji will be left to wallow in the knowledge that all he ever said in the face of Wei Ying’s questioning uncertainty as they were pressed close together in the safety of the willow fronds was…

They’re almost back at the village. He can see the edge of the treeline from here.

Wei Ying has fallen quiet at some point since they rounded the last bend, and Lan Wangji wonders if he’s seen it too. Wei Ying is still trudging on, though, undeterred, and the sound of his silence beneath the whispers of the forest sends a shiver down Lan Wangji’s spine.

He stops, before he can think better of it. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying comes to a halt a few steps in front of him. He whips around, and for a moment he appears startled, or perhaps anxious. But then he finds his usual easy smile. “Yes, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji swallows. He doesn’t know if he’s merely imagining things, if Wei Ying will laugh at him, or find him presumptuous. The longer he waits, the more his courage falters, and he can feel his ears burning with embarrassment. But he can’t just… He can’t.

“You said.” His heart is beating so fast it’s difficult to keep his voice steady, but he tries. “Other things. That we have learned. And have not tried.” He can’t believe he’s saying this. If he listens to himself too closely he feels he might simply melt. “Yet.”

His ears are rushing, but he keeps his spine straight and his eyes on Wei Ying’s, forces himself not to blink, or flinch, or even breathe.

Wei Ying catches on, a smile rising, fluttering around the edges. “Yeah. I mean.”

“I would,” Lan Wangji says, nearly tripping over his tongue and his everything else. “I would be interested in furthering my education.”

Wei Ying’s eyes go a little bit round at that, and Lan Wangji tries not to listen to how ridiculous he must sound. He does not know how people speak of such things.

“If you were interested as well,” he adds. His pulse is moving so quickly he feels weak in the knees and a bit lightheaded. He feels as if he should take a step forward, and he wants to, but when he tries to do so he barely manages more than a shuffle. In the end it’s all he can do to remain standing, his body motionless and his hand at the small of his back, trying not to disappear into the ground.

But then for all his temporary hesitancy, Wei Ying is still Wei Ying, and is suddenly right there in front of him, unbearably close. “Lan Zhan!” he says, his body curving sinuously in a way that somehow allows him to peer up at Lan Wangji even though Wei Ying is offensively tall. The excitement in his eyes sends shivers of hope and anticipation through Lan Wangji. “I think that sounds like the most interesting class of the whole summer.”

His grin spreads wide and dangerous and wonderful.

Lan Wangji should chastise him, probably, for implying such a lack of respect for the lectures. But Wei Ying is so close in front of him, his smile so soft and inviting, and Lan Wangji’s heart is beating with relief and excitement, and there is no strength left in him to muster a rebuke. With a surge of daring in his blood, Lan Wangji leans in and presses a small, clumsy kiss to Wei Ying’s mouth.

Wei Ying gives a gasp, blinking at him as Lan Wangji leans back again. “What was that for?” he asks, a smile shivering over his face again. He seems almost flustered, but not, Lan Wangji thinks, in a way that is bad.

“For later,” Lan Wangji says, amazed at himself for how smooth it comes out, and Wei Ying’s face lights up with glee. It’s strange how the mischief in Wei Ying’s eyes still makes the air around him shiver, but doesn’t make him wish to flee.

Wei Ying leans in and steals a kiss back, his effort a little deeper and decidedly less clumsy. It stirs a deep want in the pit of Lan Wangji’s stomach, kindling sprinkled over a secret flame. “Later then,” Wei Ying murmurs back, with a promise in his eyes, and Lan Wangji shivers as Wei Ying’s fingers brush over his cheek and down the side of his neck.

This really is all quite terrible.

But somehow he can’t bring himself to mind.