Chapter Text
The door closes, and they are alone in the best guestroom that Koi Tower can provide. Locating the buried archive had taken very little time. Reading through the material has taken far longer, erasing any possibility of a proper dinner time, dragging on long past nine o’clock.
Lan WangJi turns away from the door, expecting Wei Ying to be waiting ready for conversation and consolation, but in the short time that Lan WangJi was occupied in dismissing the servants Wei Ying has seated himself at the desk. He appears to be inspecting each piece of the writing set, picking up the brush and laying it down, swivelling the inkstone so that it sits further away from the edge, his hands restless and constantly occupied. His face is blank, abstracted.
“Wei Ying.” says Lan WangJi.
“It’s cheap.” says Wei Ying, picking up the brush again and peering at it as if it were important.
“Not good quality at all. Wouldn’t you think the Jin Sect could do better, Lan Zhan? I mean, what’s the point?”
Some of the lamps are flickering as if beaten down by a gust of air, but all the windows are closed against night breezes. Still the lamps struggle. A few blow out.
“What’s the point of having a desk covered in gilt if the brush is shitty? Isn’t the point of a desk to write?”
One by one, the lamps surrender, until there is only one alight. The bright surfaces suddenly fade into the gloom and Lan Wangji relaxes a little. He did not realise he was being dazzled until he is not all of a sudden. Lan WangJi sits on the edge of the bed and immediately sinks two handspans into its depths so that he has to flail briefly and inelegantly to stay upright. He gives the bed a look of respect once he has regained his poise. He will not underestimate it again.
He is comforted by the fact that he will at least have made Wei Ying smile, but when he looks across the room Wei Ying is staring at the desk top and though his face is in shadow it does not look like he is smiling. Lan WangJi can hear him tapping the end of the writing brush on the desk top, click, click, click.
“I should feel angry.” says Wei Ying, a question.
“Wei Ying has good cause to be angry.” says Lan WangJi.
“I should feel very angry.” says Wei Ying. There is a small crack, and the tapping stops.
“I should want to stab Jin Guangshan with a very sharp knife so that I can watch him die slowly.” says Wei Ying, after a pause.
“Young Mistress Wen reports that Jin Guangyao may yet linger another day.” says Lan WangJi.
“So Nie Huiasang will get to stare at him for yet another day.” says Wei Ying.
“I’m not sure that’s good for either of them. Couldn’t Nie Huaisang stab him again, a little further along? Or Wen Qing could have a turn?”
“Wei Ying may stab Jin Guangshan if he wishes.” Lan Wangji points out. No one would argue, if Wei Ying decided to do so as retribution for the death of his parents.
Wei Ying slides a glance at him, steady and assessing despite his fidgety hands.
“Do you think I should stab him?” he asks. Lan WangJi hesitates.
“That’s what I thought.” says Wei Ying. He looks back at the desk.
“Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangshan, what to do with you….” he whispers.
“So many things done in the dark….what a very….very….”
“Evil person.” Lan WangJi says.
“Yes.” says Wei Ying immediately.
“I don’t feel angry. I just feel nauseated, after reading all that.”
He lays the broken brush down, finally, and folds his hands.
“I always wondered what sort of monster it had been, to manage to kill both my parents and then just vanish. I mean, you’d think it would have to be a local legend, at least, but nothing was ever heard of such a thing again ….” he says, conversationally, as if they were commenting on the weather.
The last lamp flickers low, very low.
“Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan both conspired, both sent cultivators.” said Lan WangJI.
“It took the secret troops of two sects to defeat your mother.”
Wei Ying pauses. The lamplight rallies.
“I like that way of putting it.” he says.
“Thank you, Lan Zhan.” He nods.
“So what is to be done?” he asks again, but this time he is asking a real question and looking at Lan WangJI as if he holds the answer.
“What is an apt punishment for someone like Jin Guangshan?”
Lan WangJi knows punishment, at least the theory of it. He learnt this at his uncle’s knee.
“For punishment to be meaningful, it must affect something the criminal cares for, either his life, his person, his money, his family, his reputation… something to engender regret, at least, if not remorse.” he recites.
“Jin Guangshan cares for money, certainly, but it’s really the Sect money, isn’t it, not his personally? I don’t want any money from the Jin Sect anyway… I don’t want to stab him, I don’t want to get close enough to him to stab him. Asking the Jin Elders for his execution feels like taking the easy way out, somehow, as if I’m not being filial enough…” Wei Ying mutters, almost to himself.
“Quan Song was executed.” Lan WangJi says, gently.
“And he had done far less than Jin Guangshan.”
“Quan Song murdered his cousin and assaulted Yan Kun with his own hands…Do you think it makes it better or worse, Lan Zhan, that Jin Guangshan got other people to commit his crimes for him?” asks Wei Ying.
“Worse.” says Lan WangJi firmly.
“But Jin Guangshan has assaulted women with his own hands as well.”
“He has, hasn’t he, more than one…” mutters Wei Ying. He is tracing shapes on the surface of the table again. Finally he nods and stands up.
“Public execution it will have to be then.” he says. He sounds tired.
“That’s what I’ll ask of the Jin Elders. I can’t think of anything more suitable and this isn’t my jurisdiction. I don’t know that there’s anything that could make Jin Guangshan actually feel regret or remorse, unless his dick fell off.
“En” says Lan WangJi.
“Lan Zhan!” says Wei Ying. He looks suddenly delighted. Two of the lamps flare into life.
“It should be possible.” Lan Wangji points out.
“If Wei Ying was able to heal Wen Qionglin…”
“I could definitely cripple Jin Guangshan’s dick, definitely, but can I make it fall off? That’s the question!” exclaims Wei Ying. His face has lit up.
“You’re such a bad person, Lan Zhan!”
“I will go into seclusion.” says Lan WangJi.
“Afterwards.”
“I’ll come with you.” says Wei Ying.
“I can think of at least five Lan precepts we’ll have to be reflecting on and that’s not including the one about fornication.”
Lan WangJi looks at him. Wei Ying sighs, put upon.
“Six, then!” he says and clicks his tongue in admonishment. He stares at Lan WangJi and slowly his look of amusement fades and he looks tired, very tired.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!” he says, and shakes his head helplessly.
“I’m here.” says Lan WangJi and opens his arms to demonstrate it.
Suddenly Lan WangJi has Wei Ying in his lap. Lan WangJi has impressive upper body strength but that is of limited use when on an unstable surface. He falls backward and Wei Ying falls with him without even lifting his head. Lan WangJi grunts as Wei Ying’s weight lands on his chest and then settles himself. They are lying in a hollow of soft quilts, cream and gold material pressed up into hills the height of Wei Ying’s shoulder, and when Lan WangJI looks down, one dark eye is staring at him, so close that Lan WangJi could count Wei Ying’s eyelashes.
Two hundred and thirty- six.
“Jin Guangshan helped Wen Ruohan to kill my parents.” says Wei Ying. His breath warms Lan WangJi’s collarbone. His voice is flat.
“Yes.” says Lan WangJi. He hums softly, random notes, and pats Wei Ying for comfort. This is how he has seen it done.
“I don’t remember my parents, really. They’re like a story somebody once told me. I’m sad that the story ended, but it’s hard to believe it has anything to do with me. Does that make me a bad son, Lan Zhan?”
“No.” says Lan WangJi, and switches to crooning softly, an old song, a children’s lullaby.
“I’m a river spirit now.“ says Wei Ying, softly, almost embarrassed.
“I could drown him where he stands. I can find enough water for that, even here! That’s what I’d want to do, if anybody ever harmed you, but…”
“Death seems insufficient for Jin Guangshan.” says Lan WangJi.
“Yes! Yes, it does, doesn’t it…”
“The Jin Sect will have their own punishments to decide.” says Lan WangJi.
“Madam Jin does not love her husband or his works. But Wei Ying’s punishment will cause Jin Guangshan more pain than anything else.”
Lan WangJi feels Wei Ying’s body relax against him a little, so he ventures out into palming soft circles on his husband’s back. This too, seems to be effective. Lan WangJi is pleased. He cranes his head so that he can see Wei Ying properly. Wei Ying looks exhausted, mostly. He should get ready for bed.
“Hair?” he asks, and touches Wei Ying’s crown, a suggestion. Wei Ying nods. It is an awkward position from which to remove Wei Ying’s hair crown but Lan WangJi can manage. Now he can comb Wei Ying’s hair out.
“Of course you have a comb.” says Wei Ying, shifting back after Lan WangJi has finished sorting through his sleeve.
“Do you have toothbrushes in there as well?”
‘En,” says Lan WangJi. Cleanliness is important, and last time he was asked for such things he was underprepared. This will not happen again.
He works out a small tangle, then combs the full length of Wei Ying’s hair.
“That’s so nice.” Wei Ying says in a soft exhale
“Lan Zhan, you’re so good to me.”
Lan WangJi does not answer. He does not feel that he is being virtuous. It seems to him that he is getting to selfishly indulge in every desire that was preserved in the loneliness of his heart like amber.
“Tomorrow.” says Wei Ying, drowsy under Lan WangJi’s hands.
“Tomorrow I’ll make Jin Guangshan’s dick fall off.”
“Tomorrow.” Lan WangJi agrees and combs his husband’s hair slowly in the quiet room, srrr, srrr, srrr.