Work Text:
"Anything?"
"Ah... no, Young Master Wei..."
Wei Wuxian huffs and steps back to look at his work. Wen Ning kneels shirtless in the middle of a circle the other has drawn, and has talismans placed on various parts of his body. Under such intense scrutiny, Wen Ning curls in on himself and hides behind a curtain of his hair.
Papers shuffle as Wei Wuxian begins muttering to himself, pouring through weeks of notes, diagrams, and half-baked theories pulled from the depths of the Library Pavilion’s collection.
(It began on a crisp autumn afternoon, when Wen Ning was watching over some of the younger Lan disciples. Wei Wuxian had been brushing and feeding Lil' Apple not far away and smiled fondly at the children and their glorified babysitter. The smile fell when one child had managed to catch a rabbit and held it up to Wen Ning. "Look, I caught one! Feel it, it's so soft!"
Wen Ning stared down at the child for a moment before realizing she wanted him to pet the squirming creature in her hands. He gently, but awkwardly, stroked it, and hesitantly said, "Yes, it's very...soft..."
The child beamed at him, unaware of his discomfort, before running to show her peers, leaving Wen Ning standing with his hand still raised.
It was something Wei Wuxian had been aware of—how could he not, when Wen Ning could reattach his own arm without blinking an eye, or run through a burning mountain unaffected, his clothes tattered and smoking as flames lick at his skin. But Wei Wuxian, for all his genius, saw now too: Wen Ning could not feel the kiss of the mountain breeze, the intermingling of their fingers, the silky fur of a rabbit. Guilt washed over him as harshly as if he'd been pushed into the cold mountain springs.
He turned back to Lil' Apple, biting his lip. "I'll figure something out," he told her.
The donkey huffed and snatched Wei Wuxian's apple right out of his hand.)
"It's okay, Young Master Wei. You must have more important work to—"
"Ah!" Wei Wuxian's exclamation cut off Wen Ning, who recoils back a bit at the sight of him, hair wild and eyes bright, holding up a battered book. It reminds Wen Ning of their time in Yiling, where Wei Wuxian worked tirelessly to suppress the resentful energies of the Burial Mounds and ensure the Wen refugees' safety. Now, however, he is shining—a far cry from the sallow skin and bloodshot eyes Wen Ning remembers.
"I think this might work," Wei Wuxian says, and in his haste to grab some blank paper he knocks over a pile of scrolls and a jar of ink. He ignores the mess he's made, instead focused on furiously drafting a new talisman.
Wen Ning begins to get up, intending to clean and at least try to minimize some of the ink's damage, but Wei Wuxian lifts a hand and sharply says, "Don't move!" without looking up from his work.
Wen Ning settles back down and nervously watches the ink stain spread further and further along the floor mats.
It feels like an eternity until Wei Wuxian deems his work finished, and by then Wen Ning has managed to find a slew of shapes and figures in the ink. He's admiring one that sort of looks like a horse when Wei Wuxian's unruly mane of hair fills his vision.
"Okay," Wei Wuxian says. "Ready?"
Wen Ning really isn't ready for more disappointment, but he nods anyway.
Wei Wuxian places his new talisman just below Wen Ning's navel and pushes a bit of spiritual energy into it. Wen Ning doesn't expect anything to happen, has resigned himself to only knowing phantom touch for the rest of his unlife, when it hits him like a tidal wave: sensation, pure and overwhelming, and he feels—
He feels—
The scent of pine, of sandalwood, the rasp of fabric against his skin, the press of his knees against the floor, his limp hair brushing over his shoulders, Wei Wuxian—Wei Wuxian—mixing together into a slurry, crashing through his limbs and bowing his back as he chokes on a strangled gasp.
"Wen Ning? Wen Ning!" He can hear Wei Wuxian's calls, but just barely—muffled through the roar in his ears and under his skin.
Just as suddenly as it came, it fades, leaving Wen Ning feeling empty, like he would be lost on the wind if not for Wei Wuxian's hands on his shoulders. He only knows they're there once his vision finally focuses, and then he draws his eyes up to rest on Wei Wuxian's worried face.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing Wei Wuxian says. Then it's a deluge of rambled words and theories, mixed in with more apologies, and Wen Ning can only stare, still rattled by whatever just happened.
"I didn't know it would act that strongly, I thought based on the... the..." Wei Wuxian trails off, a strange look in his eyes. Wen Ning is about to reassure him, that it was fine, he was fine, but stops when Wei Wuxian brings a hand up to his face as though he were wiping away tears, achingly gentle. Wen Ning stills.
On Wei Wuxian’s fingers is a dark ichor. Wen Ning brings his own hand up to touch near his eyes and looks down to see his fingers stained with—something. Something black and thick, not dissimilar to the substance that flows through his veins in place of blood.
“Are you crying? Are these tears? Shit, are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” Wen Ning says, and it’s an answer to all of Wei Wuxian’s questions.
“Well…alright. Okay. Whatever happened there is I think not what we were looking for.” Wei Wuxian leans back on his heels and gives Wen Ning a considering look. “Can you tell me…what it was like?”
Wen Ning takes a moment to gather his thoughts, still recovering from the previous onslaught. “It was… like I noticed everything around me, at the same time. I… I felt. I felt everything.” And in that moment of hyperfocus, felt Wei Wuxian, even across the distance between them, a dream and desire he’s held for so long that his heart aches with joy and sorrow in equal measure to have had him for such a small moment before losing it again.
Wei Wuxian hums. “I think I can modify it. Make more of a filter, maybe, so it’s not so intense. That is, if you’re willing to try again…?”
“Yes,” Wen Ning says emphatically, and it surprises him how bad he wants it, having had the barest taste, overwhelming as it was. He hadn’t thought much over the years about what he had lost, but now he is aware of how starved he is in a way he’s not sure he could describe.
“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says. “I can make the adjustment now. Or later, if you want to wait and recover a bit.”
“Can we do it now?” Wen Ning asks, trying his best not to let his desperation come through in his voice. The smile Wei Wuxian gives him makes him think he did not succeed.
“Give me a moment,” and the whirlwind personified turns back to his diagrams. Wen Ning has gotten very good at staying still over the years, so he does not fidget no matter how maddening it is to wait. He watches Wei Wuxian push a lock of his messy hair behind his ear, and he wonders, Is it as soft as it looks? and thinks, I want to feel him.
It feels like an eternity, even though it was barely a matter of minutes, but Wei Wuxian finally returns with a modified talisman and kneels in front of Wen Ning.
“Okay, I’m going to place it on you now.” He does so slowly, telegraphing his movements to Wen Ning. Once more, the talisman is placed below his navel, though Wei Wuxian doesn’t pull his hand away this time. The thin talisman is the only thing between his fingers and Wen Ning’s skin.
It begins slowly, blooming from that point of contact. He’s warm, Wen Ning thinks, and his eyes widen at the realization—that Wei Wuxian is touching him, that he can feel the heat from his fingers and his energy, that he can feel a trickle falling from his eyes.
He wraps his own hands around Wei Wuxian’s. He holds them, running his thumbs along the palms, calluses and scars catching against his own. It’s frustrating—he can get the barest suggestion of sensation, and he has to keep rubbing and focusing before finally, finally, it’s all he can feel: warmth, a bit of sweat, skin both smooth and rough. Wen Ning leaves his thumbs resting on Wei Wuxian’s wrists. It’s been a while since he’s had a pulse of his own, but he thinks that Wei Wuxian’s is faster than it normally should be.
Wei Wuxian has to clear his throat before asking, “So, verdict? You’re crying again but you aren’t freaking out which I assume is good.”
“Yes,” Wen Ning whispers.
“Okay. Great. Good!” Wei Wuxian looks around them and bites his lip. “I’ll need to figure out a way to do it without the circle. Or make it mobile. Or something. But, for now…” He trails off, watching Wen Ning card a hand through his messy hair, fingers just brushing against his cheek. “We can stay here for awhile.”
Wen Ning doesn’t trust himself to speak, and doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts anyway, so he leans forward and kisses Wei Wuxian instead.
It’s far from the first time they’ve kissed, but it might as well be for Wen Ning. It’s more symbolic, usually, an emotional act rather than a physical one, but now—
Now, as they move against each other, slow and gentle, he slowly starts to taste the remnants of Wei Wuxian’s horrendously spicy lunch, which might have bothered him in life, but at this point tasting anything is novel and amazing; he can feel how Wei Wuxian’s lips are slightly chapped, the slide of their tongues together, the heat. Wei Wuxian lets him set the pace, content to follow his lead, but unlike Wen Ning, he does actually need to breathe and eventually pulls back.
“How was that?” he asks softly.
“Incredible,” Wen Ning says. “It’s… slow, at first. Like my body is remembering. That’s why I was… your hands…” He falters, feeling ridiculous all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Hey, hey,” Wei Wuxian interrupts. He’s holding Wen Ning’s face between his hands and stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “No apologies, remember? It’s fine. I’ve got no problem going slow. Come here.” He pulls Wen Ning in so his head is resting on his shoulder and wraps his arms around the other man. “Is this good?”
The last time Wen Ning had been held like this was just before his death, his sister showing a rare display of affection in the midst of a living nightmare. He focuses instead on the weight of Wei Wuxian’s arms and shifts to better settle in his lap. “Thank you,” he says, and Wei Wuxian’s arms tighten briefly.
They stay like this for a good while. Wei Wuxian spends some time combing through Wen Ning’s hair with his fingers; Wen Ning smooths his hands over Wei Wuxian’s robes, marveling at the fine woven texture. He stops, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s hands. Said hands brush lightly against his neck, just at the top of his spine, and Wen Ning can’t help the shudder or sound that escapes him.
Wei Wuxian notices, of course, because nothing in Wen Ning’s life is easy. He moves them apart briefly, and there’s a wicked look on his face. His hand has come to rest on that same spot, and it’s like fire. “I know I said I was fine taking it slow, but…” The leer Wei Wuxian gives him makes it hard to focus. “I really want to hear you make that sound again.”
It’s basically all of Wen Ning’s wet dreams from when he was still living come true, so he does the only thing he can think to do and hides his face in his hands.
“Or not! You can forget I said that! It’s fine, we can, uh, you know, do something else, I didn’t mean—” Wei Wuxian’s panicked rambling is enough to make Wen Ning move his hands away to look at him. He’s still talking, which is standard operation for Wei Wuxian, but…
“I want to!” Wen Ning blurts out, biting his lip after to keep himself from saying anything else embarrassing.
“I can ask for—oh, oh… well… great! Here, lie down.” Wei Wuxian removes his outermost robe and balls it up for Wen Ning to rest his head on.
Wen Ning knows he doesn’t make the most attractive picture. He’s a corpse, and even his toned undead muscles aren’t enough to distract from how his skin is unnaturally pale to the point of being nearly translucent, that his nails are weapons in their own right, that you could map out his veins and see the brackish fluid that flows through them. Spread before Wei Wuxian, though, the look of adoration and desire on his face makes something in the core of Wen Ning’s being stir.
“You’re gorgeous,” Wei Wuxian breathes, and Wen Ning has to close his eyes at the reverent touch laid along his chest. Wei Wuxian straddles his hips, the weight of him reassuring.
“So good, Wen Ning, you’re so good,” Wei Wuxian whispers between open mouthed kisses against Wen Ning’s breast, and it’s not the sucking or proximity to his nipples that makes Wen Ning whine.
Wei Wuxian continues his exploration, running his hands along Wen Ning’s body and following their trail with his mouth. The further down he goes, the more keyed up Wen Ning gets, and the rest of the world falls away until all he knows is Wei Wuxian: sun-kissed, bright and unpredictable.
“Feels good?” he asks, lifting his head to look at Wen Ning more clearly.
“It’s different,” Wen Ning answers honestly.
Wei Wuxian moves so he’s half laying on Wen Ning, their faces close. “Different how?” His hands are still busy lightly making their way down Wen Ning’s body, just barely dipping beneath his pants.
“It’s nice. It doesn’t feel the same as I remember.” Wei Wuxian’s hand is much, much further down his pants now, fingertips just brushing against Wen Ning’s cock. “Deeper, maybe. I can’t describe it.”
"Oh? You know how it felt?" Wei Wuxian's eyes alight. "You slept with someone before? Wait, don't tell me you lost your virginity before I did."
If Wen Ning's body still had its old bloodflow, his face would be as red as his family's flames, to say nothing of his dick, which hasn’t actually hardened despite the simmering pleasure that follows Wei Wuxian’s hands. "Not... not as such, no," he says. He grips Wei Wuxian's shoulders, careful not to tear the delicate fabric of his robe as his partner hums near his ear, the barest of sensation amplified to a maddening state.
"You touched yourself, then." The statement is punctuated with a caress down Wen Ning's dick. Wei Wuxian gives him a sly look. "Who'd you think about?" His teeth flash in a grin. "Me?"
"Yes."
There's silence, and then Wen Ning, realizing what he's just confessed, stiffens. He's about to apologize—for what, the crush he'd harbored and that had been reciprocated years later, for being so forward?—when Wei Wuxian buries his head into the crook of Wen Ning's neck and breathes, "Fuck."
The kisses Wei Wuxian lays upon Wen Ning's throat pull feeling up from his bones and into his skin slowly, sluggish compared to the desperation in Wei Wuxian's breath. It grows and builds to a pinpoint where Wei Wuxian is sucking on the soft skin just beneath his jaw until Wen Ning is caught with one hand scrambling for purchase on the floor and the other gripping his partner's arm, hips moving against each other in a sense memory of a dream years gone.
Wei Wuxian pulls away, briefly pressing a kiss to Wen Ning's lips before resting their foreheads together. "I'm happy to continue like this," he says, "but I do want to know what else you're open to."
"Whatever the young master wants."
"Wen Ning." At his name, Wen Ning pulls his hand from where it was resting on Wei Wuxian's arm, but it's grasped before he could go too far. "It's not about what I want. I want to know what you want."
Wei Wuxian's gaze hasn't left Wen Ning's downcast eyes, and for a moment there's only the sound of Wen Ning's breath rattling through his stiff lungs. Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hand to rest on Wei Wuxian's chest, fingers just brushing between the folds of his robes. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say it.
“Come?” Wei Wuxian, shameless as he is, has no issue saying it. But there also isn’t any judgment or disappointment in his voice. Wen Ning nods.
“So long as it feels good for you, that’s what matters to me,” Wei Wuxian says, like things are that simple. “We’ll play it by ear. Something to put in the notes for next time.”
Next time, Wen Ning thinks, and he has to take a moment to bask in that there can be a next time, there will be a next time. It’s what gives him the confidence to press his lips to Wei Wuxian’s, more urgent than before. The response from Wei Wuxian is enthusiastic, but once again he pulls back. “You have to tell me what you want.”
“You,” Wen Ning says, because it’s true.
“More specific,” Wei Wuxian laughs. “You have me.”
Wen Ning scrambles for words, because he wants to feel Wei Wuxian, all of him, and in his inexperience has no idea how to communicate that.
“How about this,” Wei Wuxian says at Wen Ning’s silence. “Tell me about what you thought about, before. Walk me through it. We’ll go from there.”
Wen Ning, internally, is yelling. Wei Wuxian was never supposed to find out about those fantasies, because it wasn’t ever going to matter. Now Wei Wuxian is straddling him and is ready and willing to act them out. “You start by kissing me,” he says quietly, his voice rough.
“Step one,” Wei Wuxian says before kissing the unliving daylights out of Wen Ning.
“Next,” Wen Ning says once Wei Wuxian pulls away, “I touch you.”
“Wherever you want,” Wei Wuxian says, and Wen Ning wants to remember this image of him forever: eyes half lidded, cheeks flushed, lips red and his robes hanging open, a teasing image of what’s to come. He’s still on top of Wen Ning, which doesn’t quite fit what he had in mind.
“Can I…” Wen Ning rests his hands on Wei Wuxian’s waist. He’s aware that his unnatural strength can easily get away from him.
"You won't hurt me," Wei Wuxian says, and it isn't a command, but a declaration of complete and utter trust—and his smile makes something warm and unbidden bloom in Wen Ning's chest, burning brighter and hotter than any physical contact could. He is the sun, Wen Ning thinks, and he always has been and always will be, and Wei Wuxian doesn't need the Wen sect's sigil branded on his skin for it to be true.
It’s easy to pick Wei Wuxian up, and easier still to lay him down on the floor, as reverent as if laying an offering on an altar. Wen Ning smooths his hands over Wei Wuxian’s chest, taking in the image of him. He starts slowly, tracing the lines of his abdomen. Goosebumps trail after the light scratch of his nails.
“Do I do anything during step two?” Wei Wuxian asks with a smile playing on his lips.
This was the most embarrassing part. Wen Ning leans his head down to his hair falls forward, hiding his expression. “You… talk.”
He can’t see Wei Wuxian’s expression either, and he can’t decide if that makes this easier or harder. “Talk, like… I want your hot zombie body?”
“No,” Wen Ning says, because he is pretty sure that would make him die all over again. “You would…” Heavens above this is the hardest thing he’s ever done, even harder than when he’d confessed his feelings to Wei Wuxian. “Um, compliment me. Say things like… that I’m good.” His head gets tilted up by one of Wei Wuxian’s hands. There’s an unreadable expression on his face.
“You are,” Wei Wuxian breathes. “You are so good, Wen Ning.”
It makes Wen Ning’s chest tighten and he exhales in an old, unnecessary reflex.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Wei Wuxian continues, voice low. Wen Ning, who doesn’t know what he did to deserve Wei Wuxian, goes back to feeling along his sides and mouths at his chest. He marvels at the taste of him, the smooth skin over wiry muscle. He pays special attention to the spot right over Wei Wuxian’s heart.
The skin there is unmarred, a history missing from this body. But Wen Ning remembers it clearly: the risen sun, seared onto Wei Wuxian’s chest. He first saw it on the mountain, during the riskiest surgery he had ever assisted his sister with. He had felt utter shame—both at the actions of his sect, and at the desire that welled within him.
“Keep doing that there—ah!” Wei Wuxian moans when Wen Ning swirls his tongue around a nipple. “You’re amazing, that’s amazing, I need—” His hips grind against Wen Ning in small, aborted movements.
Wen Ning begins carefully undressing Wei Wuxian, who suddenly seems to be allergic to his clothing and helps by tearing them off and throwing them across the room. Now bare, he starts to tug Wen Ning’s pants down but is stayed by Wen Ning grasping his wrists.
“Not… not this time,” Wen Ning says. He doesn’t want to see himself, doesn’t want to ruin the moment with his insecurity. “Please,” he adds.
“Okay.” Wei Wuxian retracts his hands and lays back down, spreading himself before Wen Ning. “Step three?”
He finds it too embarrassing to say out loud, so instead he says, “I’ll show you,” and Wen Ning moves down to lay a kiss between Wei Wuxian’s legs.
“How are you so good at this, are you absolutely sure you never slept with anyone before? I—ohh, fuck.” There are hands in Wen Ning’s hair, guiding him, firm but not rough. Wen Ning has his mouth around Wei Wuxian, sucking gently. The sounds he draws out of Wei Wuxian settle under his skin and warm him all the way through, and it’s so much better than whatever his imagination could have come up with. Tentatively, he moves one hand down under his pants to touch himself.
It’s… slow, as he expected. A little humiliating that he can’t get hard, but everything else is more than he thought he’d ever have so he can’t find it in himself to complain when he begins to feel it: a simmering burn, coiling low in a strange facsimile of what he remembers.
“Please, Wen Ning, you’re so good, I’m close, I’m—” Wei Wuxian breaks off into a long moan, low and sweet. He’s grinding himself against Wen Ning’s face, and Wen Ning would do just about anything if it meant hearing Wei Wuxian like this again. He thinks he might be close too, to whatever counts as an orgasm for him, but it feels nebulous, like it might fall away right through his fingers if he isn’t careful.
It’s hard to be careful with a face full of Wei Wuxian.
Wen Ning has to take his hand away from himself to hold down Wei Wuxian’s hips as his back arches and he repeats Wen Ning’s name like a prayer. Wen Ning guides him through his climax and has to take a moment because wow, he did that.
Wei Wuxian flops down on the floor again and breathes hard. “Alright,” he says. “Step four?”
Wen Ning looks up at him. “There was no step four.”
“What do you mean, no step four?” Wei Wuxian pulls himself up to lean on his elbows. “What about the part where I ravish you?”
Flustered, Wen Ning says, “It would have ended there. I, uh, would have ended there.”
“Hmm. Well, did you?”
“I said I wasn’t sure if I could,” Wen Ning replies, feeling like it might be a good idea at this point to crawl into a hole and stay in the dirt for a good few decades.
“Come here,” Wei Wuxian says, and he pulls Wen Ning so his back is resting against his chest, arms resting lightly against his middle. Wen Ning is stiff, the previous sensation fading away. “You were incredible.” He moves some of Wen Ning’s hair off of his shoulder and presses a kiss along the back of his neck, over where the Jin sect had once put nails in to control him. “I want to make sure you get to feel that, too. If you come, great. If not, then I certainly won’t take offense.” Wei Wuxian laughs at his own joke. “But I’d like to try, if you’re willing.”
Wen Ning doesn’t answer immediately. He’s busy playing with Wei Wuxian’s hands again, mapping the lines on his palms with his fingers and wondering if they’re different from Wei Wuxian’s original body. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian is pressing more light kisses against his neck and Wen Ning would be a liar if he said he didn’t want more.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Wei Wuxian turns him around, and Wen Ning is met with a soft smile and twinkling eyes before getting kissed once more. Wei Wuxian makes a noise deep in his throat when he tastes himself on Wen Ning’s tongue.
He pushes Wen Ning down gently in a mirror of their position from before, and Wen Ning starts to feel it again—buzzing beneath his skin, growing louder with each moment Wei Wuxian spends kissing, teasing, caressing, until all he knows is Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian seems to be especially fascinated by the toned musculature of Wen Ning’s body. He licks a stripe up from his bellybutton to his sternum, blowing lightly on the wet marks he’s left to watch Wen Ning shiver, and then claps his hands over both of Wen Ning’s pecs and squeezes. “These,” he says. “I love these.”
It’s difficult to think, let alone speak, even when Wei Wuxian is being a little ridiculous and it still feels amazing. The dig from Wei Wuxian’s nails as he gropes and massages is especially sharp, cutting through the rest of the pleasured fog and sparking something deep in Wen Ning’s core. “I know you do, I—” He breaks off into a whine at the sting of teeth along his collarbone.
He never stays in one spot for long, and to Wen Ning it all feels amazing. He doesn’t have a favorite, no place that makes him think this is it, not when Wei Wuxian might as well be wielding Chenqing for all that he is making Wen Ning’s body sing: he pulls it from his bones, draws the empty breath from his lungs and forms it into a song shaped like starbursts.
There’s a hand on his cock and a voice in his ear whispering, “You’re so beautiful, I love how you sound, Wen Ning, I love you—” and that’s what makes the song crescendo and rush through his veins.
It’s not what he remembers. It’s not heat unfurling from a single point, not a build and release. It’s a bloom—a tide rising to spread and settle on his skin, and Wen Ning is vaguely aware that he’s making sounds, that Wei Wuxian is holding him and telling him, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” and Wen Ning thinks he’s never been happier.
He comes down eventually. He doesn’t know how much time has passed once the high fades and it’s just Wei Wuxian stroking his hair in a way that’s pleasant, calm.
“You’re crying again,” Wei Wuxian notes. He starts to say something else, but gets cut off when Wen Ning pulls him down into a fierce embrace.
“Thank you,” Wen Ning says. “For everything. For this. I’ve never…” Felt like this. Loved anyone like you. Knew how much I needed this.
“No need to thank me,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “I just wish I’d done it sooner.”
The late afternoon sun lights the room in a soft orange glow, illuminating the mess of papers and strewn clothes that surround them. Wei Wuxian kisses Wen Ning again, slow and sweet. When he pulls back, his wild hair is backlit by the fading sun and it wreathes him in the same light that warms Wen Ning from the inside.
Even his sad smile is achingly beautiful. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“I know.” Wen Ning doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go back to experiencing the world through a thick, numb haze.
“But, hey! We have so much more work to do! So much experimenting! Oh, how about next time, I tell you about one of my fantasies? I’ll get Lan Zhan in here and we can… no, stop laughing, I’m serious!”
It makes the thought of leaving more bearable.
“I want to stay for just a while longer,” Wen Ning says softly.
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, and pulls Wen Ning in once more.