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It’s been sixteen years since they had first met. All the years have done wonders to Lan Zhan, Wei Ying thinks to himself as he walks behind the man, admiring what little he can glimpse from his current angle and distance. The Second Jade’s stoicism has mellowed, making him look calmer and kinder. Wei Ying doesn’t need to clash swords with him to know that Lan Zhan’s spiritual energy far exceeds how he remembered it to be in their young adulthood. Wei Ying might as well join the Gusu Lan juniors in their cheer of admiration for their Hanguang-jun.
Oh, he’d done his fair share of admiring alright when he was young, he thinks, allowing the wave of nostalgia to sweep over his senses at the memory of his past life.
The mask he wears feels heavier the closer he gets to Lan Zhan’s living quarters, his hands clammy, feet fidgety. He tries to soothe his erratic heartbeat, going through the door without a question when Lan Zhan keeps the door open, waiting for him to go in first. It’s natural for a captive to stay within eyesight. Of course, Lan Zhan would treat him the same way he would treat his other prisoners…
..so why is Lan Zhan taking his hands into his own? Wait, is Lan Zhan shivering? Oh no, is Lan Zhan cold?
Slowly, a hand comes to rest on Wei Ying’s cheek. The sudden warmth in place of the cold air is so comforting that Wei Ying doesn’t remember leaning in. Lan Zhan’s fingers trace the grooves of his lips, the back of his ears, the contours of his jaw and chin.
Wei Ying sighs when Lan Zhan holds the bottom corner of his mask in between his thumb and his index finger. He squeezes Lan Zhan’s other hand that trembles as it holds Wei Ying’s cold hand in his. The man squeezes his hand back as if to say it’s okay, it’s fine and I’m here .
“May I?”
Wei Ying almost doesn’t recognise that voice with how soft and raspy it is. There is a hint of wonder in Lan Zhan’s voice, laced with hope and despair.
Could he still...But it’s been a long time!
Still, Wei Ying nods silently, granting Lan Zhan whatever permission he needs. He doesn’t have the heart to deny Lan Zhan anything, not after his last selfish request for the man to let go of his hand in his last moments.
“Allow me.”
Lan Zhan already knows it can only be Wei Ying, but seeing is believing and feeling is accepting, confirming.
Lan Zhan’s hand is gentle as it lifts the mask over Wei Ying’s head, hitting him with cool air and a better view of Lan Zhan’s face. Ah, Wei Ying thinks, Lan Zhan truly has become even more handsome and beautiful in the years that Wei Ying spent in the land of the dead. He looks good. He looks like he should be anywhere but here, anywhere but with Wei Ying Wei Wuxian who brings only misfortune and death where he goes.
But here Lan Zhan is, his calloused fingers tracing the shape of Wei Ying’s nose, his eyes, his brow with reverent, careful movement that speaks of longing and fear that whatever he is holding now is just a dream. Wei Ying hates that he’s the one who caused that look that has no business on Lan Zhan’s face.
Lan Zhan rests his forehead against Wei Ying’s own, his eyes squeezed tightly shut for a brief moment. When he opens them, Wei Ying chokes at the sheer display of swirling emotion and affection he never thinks he will ever get to see again. The questions and apologies can come later because for now, all Wei Ying wants is to savour the sound and feel of his name on Lan Zhan’s lips like a desperate prayer. Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Wei. Ying.
When he whispers back a soft Lan Zhan in return of all the Wei Yings, Lan Zhan’s lips capture his in a searing kiss - a kiss sixteen years overdue.
In another life, another time, another world, perhaps it will be a sheer red veil embroidered with a mix of lotus and cloud patterns that Lan Zhan lifts over his head instead of a cold, hard mask.
When Lan Zhan wraps his arms around him to press their bodies close together, Wei Ying finds himself thinking that perhaps it is not too late for them too. Perhaps in this life, they still have a chance now that they’ve found each other again.
He used to say Lan Zhan’s name over and over again because he loves how it sounds. He used to say Lan Zhan’s name like a prayer, wanting nothing but Lan Zhan’s attention. Now, hearing Lan Zhan say his name as he trails and peppers every inch of his skin with chaste yet fervent kisses lights a strong fire in him.
It feels like coming home.