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Wei Wuxian is a grand plan sort of girl. It's not that she doesn't concern herself with details – she does – but it's more that she tends to think of them afterwards.
So when Lan Zhan, the light and love of her life, had clasped her hands and asked if she was sure she wanted to do a traditional Gusu Lan wedding, Wei Ying had said yes without hesitation.
Now, however... well, she still would have said yes without hesitation, but she might have spared a thought at least to what a traditional Gusu Lan wedding would entail.
It had been innocuous enough at first. They had knelt and performed their bows. They had served their tea, to Lan Qiren, to the Gusu Lan Elders, to Lan Xichen, to Jiang Cheng and the tablets that he had brought with him from Lotus Pier. All of this was standard wedding ceremony as far as Wei Ying knew.
Then there were a few deviations that Wei Ying had just assumed would be Lan-specific rituals, nothing too surprising. Lan Zhan had removed her forehead ribbon – red, for the occasion – and presented it to Wei Ying for her to keep, and Wei Ying had a new one to present to Lan Zhan.
(She is not expected to wear it on a daily basis; she'd checked that first, at least. But it was symbolic and Wei Ying didn't mind it for the ceremony.)
And then, while their guests remain to partake of the feast and entertainment, the couple themselves are expected to depart and take themselves to separate chambers to meditate upon their spousal duties for the length of half a shichen before joining together for the night.
All of this had been in the instruction manual that Lan Qiren had given her after the engagement (well, the official engagement that is; neither of them had felt the need to tell Lan Qiren that they'd been sort-of engaged since they were teenagers).
Except the instruction manual doesn't quite cover the brusqueness of it. They complete their bows and then Wei Ying is led away from her own wedding celebration before she can even get one dish of wine down or make any inappropriate groping gestures at her lovely Lan Zhan, which is just unfair.
She's shown the way to a glorified shack, which has been erected specially for the occasion – one at the front of the Jingshi and one at the back for each of them – carefully picking her way down the path through the limited visibility the veil she's wearing affords her. She's seen them before, walking through the Cloud Recesses lands, and had assumed that they were sheds or outhouses, and apparently, they are light enough to be put up in less than a day, and are used for all manner of things requiring privacy. When she gets inside, it's four flimsy walls and enough space to seat one person.
It's a sunny day, unusual for this time of year, but spring in the mountains remains cool. Wei Ying is glad for her six layers of heavy robes, even if she can already feel the line of sweat forming under her breasts. The accompanying disciple who guided her here arranges the incense burner, lights the stick of incense that will let Wei Ying know how long she has been here, and then leaves her alone to her meditation. At least being by herself means that she can seat herself in the more informal lotus position, instead of kneeling.
Wei Ying realises when the door closes behind the Gusu Lan disciple that there aren't even any windows in here, and the only light is the weak filtered daylight that bleeds through the edges of the thin bamboo walls. If they'd had their wedding in winter, it would be completely dark in here.
Wei Ying looks around her and sighs. Well, she has half a shichen to waste now before she gets to see Lan Zhan, and in the grand scheme of things that's not that long to be separated, even if they have barely moved out of each other's sight since the night of Guanyin Temple. Lan Zhan seemed excited about this part of the tradition, so Wei Ying will just bear it and then she can officially move into the Jingshi together instead of sneaking in through the window from her guest quarters in the middle of the night.
And it's not hardship to think about her marital duties to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan has duties around Cloud Recesses, and Wei Ying can make sure that she is appropriately fed , that she takes rests, that her shoulders are massaged after a long day helping with her Uncle's administration. She can help feed the rabbits when Lan Zhan is caught up in meetings, and sort out the requests asking for cultivator help, she can deal with the logistics of going nighthunting. She's looking forward to all of that, actually.
She can accompany Lan Zhan on nighthunts and take shifts on sleeping if there is something dangerous around, that's particularly useful as she know Lan Zhan used to be the only senior out with a group of junior disciples. She's daydreaming about how maybe she'll press kisses to Lan Zhan's face when it starts to get late and Lan Zhan can sleep with her head pilled on her lap and Wei Ying will get to look at her face in the shadowed light of the fire for hours on end when she takes watch, when she inhales a bit too much of the incense.
It's an odd smelling incense, not the sandalwood that Lan Zhan prefers or the cinnamon that Xichen-jie has in her rooms or any of the other common ones used around Cloud Recesses. There's a thick sweetness that lingers in the air, shooting straight up her nose and tickling the back of her throat as she breathes again.
Perhaps it is a special wedding blend. Wei Ying isn't sure that it agrees with her though – it's heavier than other incenses and she can feel it clinging to her, lingering on her tongue. Wei Ying mentally scolds herself – she works next to decomposing bodies and dead things all the time, and the smell of that rarely bothers her at all. She can deal with a slightly strong stick of incense. She goes back to measured breathing, closing her eyes and thinking happy thoughts. She thinks about how she couldn't really see Lan Zhan at all during the wedding but she could smell her, and feel the warmth of her hand in Wei Ying's.
She thinks about how Lan Zhan had peppered her neck and shoulders in bruising kisses two days ago, so that Wei Ying was marked for the period of time they didn't see each other even though it was only a day, and how Lan Zhan had said 'I will miss you, Wei Ying' when she had retired to her guest room to sleep.
Wei Ying sneezes, and three vertebrae in her lower neck click with the force of it. She grunts, and rotates it out slowly; she's spent most of the day sitting upright and her back aches with it. Lan Zhan will ease it with her strong hands, she can look forward to that.
There's something cloying about the incense smell that's starting to give her a headache, and Wei Ying grumpily makes a mental note to ask Lan Zhan if it really is some musty ancient Gusu Lan scent brought out only for special occasions.
It provides a good heat though, which she didn't even know that incense could do, and her robes are starting to feel a little too much. She'll be disgusting and sweaty by the time she's allowed to see Lan Zhan, and while that has never put either of them off before, she doesn't want to turn up to the Jingshi on their marital night looking like a half-melted rice cake.
Wei Ying pulls at her robes, wondering whether she can get away with peeling off some of the layers and then draping them back on when she's meant to leave. But the belt is so fiddly and ornate, with embroidery and gold and pendants hanging off it and it had taken two disciples to help Wei Ying into all of them, and Lan Zhan had expressed her interest in getting to undress Wei Ying like unwrapping a present and it would be cruel to deny her of that.
Wei Ying coughs, trying to clear it out of her throat, and then stills. The movement just now – the little shake of her body produced by the cough – produces a revelation to her. She's... she's wet. She couldn't feel it before, her undergarments like the rest of her layers pressed to her skin, but she felt it now, when she moved, and she felt the slide of liquid trapped between her and the fabric. She clenches her pussy tight, and then quickly releases when that only squeezes more liquid out. Oh. She's very wet.
She shifts, trying to escape the feeling now that she knows it's there, and that makes her breasts drag across the inside of her robes, an ache flaring in them as well. She tucks her chin down, hooks one finger into her robes and pulls out all six layers to peer down at them incredulously. Her nipples stick out, like. Like. Well, she doesn't know. But they're hard nubs, completely visible against her dudou. She pokes at one dubiously, and gasps at the sensation. They only ever feel like that when Lan Zhan gets her mouth on them, it doesn't just... happen.
She quickly looks at the incense stick. It's only a quarter of the way down. She sighs, inhaling deeply – forgetting about the smell – and chokes on the thick scent of it again, the smoke filling her mouth and tongue, making her mouth water like the phantom taste of food. She swallows, running her tongue along her teeth to try and get the taste of it out, and then her abdomen spasms.
"No dinner at my own wedding?" gripes Wei Ying, pressing a hand to her stomach. Except – it's not that. She's having a hard time thinking for some reason, her thoughts going cloudy when she tries too hard, so it takes her longer than it should to realise that the swoop in her stomach isn't a hunger pang, it goes straight down to her groin.
Wei Ying presses the heel of her hand against the front of her pubic bone, in an attempt to stave it off, just in time for the distinct feeling of wetness escaping her pussy, dripping down the stretch of skin in between towards her ass.
She shifts, as quickly as she can, weighed down by all her robes, into a kneeling position. Her calves firmly tucked against her thighs, knees clamped together, hands rolled into fists on her side of her thighs helping with the pressure. She's already soaked through her underwear, she can tell without even looking at it, and she can feel herself blushing furiously.
She's glad she's by herself. What if this session had been under supervision by one of Lan Zhan's relatives? She couldn't bear them knowing that she's supposed to be meditating on their lives together and instead her body is just anticipating Lan Zhan's touch.
Usually only Lan Zhan has this kind of effect on her. Wei Ying is a woman of carnal pleasures. Or, at least, she has been in the last few months. They spend an inordinate amount of time naked, or half naked, or mostly naked, together. Sometimes, even seeing Lan Zhan in the distance gives her a visceral punch of desire in the gut out of nowhere. So, she's used to that, sort of, the way her body yearns for Lan Zhan's proximity all the time, the way they turn towards each other like they are each the sunflower and the other the sun. Is this a side effect of being separated for merely a day? What a terrible thought. Or is Lan Zhan actually here, and Wei Ying's body can sense it? For one moment, Wei Ying looks wildly around, as if her wife (wife!) might spring from the shadows.
She laughs out loud, caught in the ridiculousness of her own wandering mind, and chokes on the incense again.
"I – is it you?" Wei Ying asks incredulously, eyes wide as she stares at the innocuous stick of incense, a little glowing red dot in the dimness of the hut. She leans in close to inhale it, this time deliberately; the thick smoke wafting across her lips is like a ghost of Lan Zhan's breath on her face and she's hit with a wave of arousal so strong that she nearly falls over face-first into the burning stick on incense.
A lot of things fall into place all at once. Like why Lan Zhan had been excited about this part of the ceremony – she'd just assumed that Lan Zhan was excited about meditation, which in Wei Ying's defence, she often is – why Lan Qiren had looked so uncomfortable when he had handed her the pamphlet outlining Lan marriage customs, why the pamphlet was so vague on what marital duties entailed. Why the hut has no windows.
Wei Ying keels over sideways with this revelation. There's no need for decorum anymore, surely, lying like a snail tipped onto its side is acceptable behaviour now. She's partly deeply embarrassed knowing that every single Lan disciple knows exactly what is happening to her and Lan Zhan right now, and partly annoyed that she's just spent half of her time trying to be a nice virtual Lan clan member when apparently they're all carnal beasts on their wedding nights, but mostly, she's just really, really horny and mad that she is alone and Lan Zhan is all the way across the other side of the Jingshi.
Wei Ying rummages under her layers of robes to adjust her underwear, which only provides relief temporarily as the seam presses into Wei Ying's too sensitive skin and makes her think about Lan Zhan pressing her nails into her there. She wants to touch herself, desperately, but getting started without Lan Zhan is defying the point of this. She will make it the whole half a shichen, she will.
The incense is thick now, the kind of smoke that curls visibly in the air, and she can't avoid breathing it in.
And Wei Ying just lies there, sideways and uncomfortable and smothered in her robes on the uneven ground, because every tiny movement she dares to make seems to reveal another part of her that is aching or sensitive. She doesn't even want to do anything about the wetness that is dripping down the curve of her leg, hot and sticky and uncomfortable. Why bother? Her pussy is just going to produce more. Even breathing makes her more horny right now, the sensation of air against her upper lip taunting her that Lan Zhan is not kissing it.
This is the worst. Wei Ying is going to die.
She doesn't know how long she lies there like that, staring in the darkness at the little glowing light of the incense. She sees when it reaches the bottom, watches mesmerised when it starts to sputter and dim.
There's a knock on the door, two quick raps, and then the sound of footsteps rapidly disappearing.
"It's forbidden to run in Cloud Recesses," she murmurs deliriously as they fade away. Had there been someone outside the whole time? She groans, and tries to remember if she was making any noises out loud, and presses her face into the uncaring ground, caught between mortification and the ever enduring lake of arousal low in her belly, filling her up where her golden core used to be.
There's a sound from somewhere outside, faintly, like the sound of a door being thrown open, hitting the wall on the other side and rebounding.
Wei Ying twitches upright.
"Lan Zhan!" she cries, realisation finally setting in as to what this means. She's free! She gathers herself up – it takes several moments, her thighs keep threatening to collapse underneath her – and also throws open the door to her hut. A similar bang happens; she catches the door before it comes flying back into her face. She laughs at her own stupidity and fights her way out, giddy with the smell of fresh air. She scoops all her robes into her arms and flies up the rest of the path to the Jingshi, reaching out to wrench the door open when it opens under her hand and she smacks face first into Lan Zhan opening it from the other side.
"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying collapses into her with a wail, pressing all of herself against her Lan Zhan.
"Wei Ying!" Lan Zhan clutches her around the waist and they tumble to the floor wrapped up together in a cloud of limbs and robes. Lan Zhan's hands are strong and sure even through the robes, finding Wei Ying's ass immediately and Wei Ying throws her arms around Lan Zhan, smushing her whole face into Lan Zhan's neck, desperate to touch as much of her as possible, rubbing her cheek up and down the length of Lan Zhan's neck, smashing wet kisses against the hot skin.
They end up with Wei Ying sprawled across Lan Zhan's lap and far too many layers of robes between them, Wei Ying squeezing one hand between them to try and pull at their belts, tied far too tightly. There was a special Lan knot for them, Wei Ying remembers. Jade pendants clink, gold chains slither onto the ground as they try to wrestle themselves free.
The wedding robes are going to be ruined, Wei Ying thinks vaguely, right before Lan Zhan rears back, righteous fury in her face and grips Wei Ying's sleeve with both hands. She pulls the fabric taut once, and then grunts. Wei Ying hears it tear, from shoulder to neck, and then Lan Zhan moves onto the next seam, until the shredded robes fall around Wei Ying's torso like drooping flower petals.
Lan Zhan's eyes are wild, and Wei Ying thinks that she must look the same; she pulls at the dudou covering Wei Ying's chest and Wei Ying feels the strings snap from behind her neck and back, and then Lan Zhan's hands are sliding up her stomach, her ribs, hands cupping the fullness of her breasts, squeezing until Wei Ying cries out.
"Not fair, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying paws uselessly at Lan Zhan's belt, which is still tied and denying her access to her wife (her wife!).
Lan Zhan pushes forward until Wei Ying is flat on her back, and reaches out with one vicious kick. There's the sound of a door slamming shut on its rails.
Oh, thinks Wei Ying dazedly. The Jingshi door was open all this time.
And then there's no time to think that, because Lan Zhan's mouth is over her right nipple, sucking as much of it into her mouth as possible. Wei Ying doesn't have a lot of breast, just enough for Lan Zhan to have declared it a nice mouthful. Lan Zhan's tongue runs across her nipple and she gasps; Lan Zhan scrapes her teeth up and bites down, hard enough for a lightning bolt of heat to shoot down her belly. She wants to rock her hips, grind against Lan Zhan to alleviate the pressure, but Lan Zhan's lower body is pressed against Wei Ying's legs, pinning her down so that she can't do anything except fist her hands into Lan Zhan's hair and scream as Lan Zhan alternates between her tongue and her teeth.
The smell of the incense smoke lingers still – she can smell it in Lan Zhan's hair – and it makes her hazy, her eyes rolling back as Lan Zhan's bite brings her tantalisingly closer to the edge. She can't come like this, she knows she needs more, Lan Zhan knows she needs more, but it's so close. She's making desperate noises as she exhales and a moan is dragged out of her when Lan Zhan pulls back, her breast suddenly cold as Lan Zhan sits up.
Lan Zhan pulls at her guan, a new one just for the wedding, pulling at the pin until – "A knife? Is that a knife?" Wei Ying blinks in case she's hallucinating from the incense, and in the same time Lan Zhan slices through both of their belts and also Wei Ying's trousers.
"Hnnnrgh," says Wei Ying coherently, and feels her pussy clench accordingly. She sees when Lan Zhan sees the mess she's made of her underwear, sees the way her mouth parts a little and her tongue dabs her lips wet. She touches the edge of it with one finger reverently, skirting around presumably where it's not yet stained, and then she draws her hand back and smacks it down hard, the flat of her fingers catching against Wei Ying's clit. Wei Ying screams. Her hips rise up off the floor high enough that her tailbone hurts when it hits the ground again.
Lan Zhan does it again.
Wei Ying comes with a scream. She's been skirting too close to the edge for too long, and ends up writhing on the floor rubbing her thighs together desperately.
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," she says, not even knowing what she's asking for until Lan Zhan kisses her, bruisingly hard. She can feel the heat radiating off Lan Zhan's skin now that she's opened up the robes, and Lan Zhan makes quick work of peeling them both out of the ruined clothes, leaving them on the floor in the shape they were in, like shedded skins. She slides the hair pin almost delicately against Wei Ying's hip and slices the damp underwear off.
Wei Ying wastes no time getting her hands over Lan Zhan – over her arms, her back – as Lan Zhan hefts her up and carries her over to the bed.
The Jingshi is decorated all in red, Wei Ying notices for the first time. Especially the bed. There red curtains that Lan Zhan impatiently flicks aside, and the sheets are red.
Lan Zhan deposits Wei Ying in the middle of the bed and then crawls around her head until her thighs frame Wei Ying's head. She hasn't taken her underwear off yet, and Wei Ying can see that Lan Zhan has soaked through hers as well. Not as much as Wei Ying, because Lan Zhan's body doesn't do that in the same way that Wei Ying's does, but enough for there to be a deep line of red satin between her legs before she lowers herself down onto Wei Ying's face.
Wei Ying opens her mouth greedily, pressing as much of her face into Lan Zhan's pussy as she can. She would suffocate in here if Lan Zhan would let her. Lan Zhan rocks into her, and Wei Ying is still trying to get her tongue in the right place – usually they do this the other way around, with Lan Zhan facing Wei Ying, but this time she's leaning forward with her hands bracketed around Wei Ying's hips – when she feels Lan Zhan's mouth press over her. Oh! They've never done this before, not both of them at the same time.
Lan Zhan rides Wei Ying's face as she presses her nose into Wei Ying's pussy, and Wei Ying doesn't know how she can do both at the same time. Wei Ying's only just managing to keep up with one task, which is keeping her mouth open for Lan Zhan's pleasure. Lan Zhan's biting, again, this time soft squeezes that are just enough for Wei Ying to feel the flesh mound up and the edge of teeth; a threat of pleasure. Lan Zhan is making her way around in a circle, getting closer and closer to Wei Ying's clit. Her finger rubs against Wei Ying's folds, just enough that the tip of her finger dips in, smearing the wetness around. Wei Ying kicks her feet up, planting her heels into the bed so she can rock up into it.
She can already feel the edges of herself going, already loosened by the first time that Lan Zhan made her come, and she loses herself in the taste of Lan Zhan in her mouth and the rhythm of Lan Zhan's thumb against her clit. She knows – because Lan Zhan has told her – that when she's close, she makes little high pitched panting noises. She's usually too caught up in the moment to notice, but she does now, the sounds obscene and frantic muffled where she's pressed against Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan comes first. She's quieter than Wei Ying, but her hips stutter and catch against Wei Ying's teeth and she exhales sharply, her hand on Wei Ying's stomach a sudden press downwards. She swings her leg over Wei Ying's head so that she's kneeling next to Wei Ying – so she can see Wei Ying's face, she knows – and follows it up with her fingers, two suddenly into Wei Ying's pussy with an obscene squelch sound, fucking them hard and fast as Wei Ying spasms around her.
"Lan Zhan, please," gasps Wei Ying. The pressure in her belly grows, roiling and with no release. She can't come in this position, Lan Zhan know this not without a touch on her clit; and Lan Zhan's taken her hand away from there. She curls up around Lan Zhan's hand as she clings to her forearm with both hands, her legs bucking in the air, trying to make herself come.
"Come for me," whispers Lan Zhan feverishly, working her fingers in, and out, each time all the way up until Wei Ying feels the knuckles on Lan Zhan's hand press against her.
"I can't, I can't," sobs Wei Ying. She can feel tears forming at the side of her eyes, the heat on her face blotchy and uneven.
"Yes, you can," coaxes Lan Zhan, brushing away the tendrils of hair sticking to Wei Ying's forehead almost tenderly, so she can see her face better. "Come for me, my good girl."
"Lan Zhan, I can't, touch me, please," Wei Ying is so close. She sees, just about, Lan Zhan sliding her other hand between her own legs, rubbing herself where she won't Wei Ying.
Her tongue feels thick in her mouth. She's not making real words anymore, she knows, just loud noises in lieu of words and stringing them together as she watches Lan Zhan hand, rocks in time to the circles of her thumb, pretending that the pressure is against her own neglected clit.
There's drool, pooled in the side of her cheek, she realises as she swallows, from the way her mouth has just been gaping open, watching Lan Zhan get off on keeping Wei Ying so close to the edge and not letting her come. She's tight around Lan Zhan's fingers now – she's usually loose after this much fucking but clenching from trying to make her come means that Lan Zhan's fingers feel huge now, shoving their way inside her mercilessly.
She blinks away the tears so she can see Lan Zhan better: the way her arm is taut from still pumping her fingers into Wei Ying, the way her shoulders hunch forward as her orgasm builds, the vicious little smile with an edge of teeth that tells Wei Ying that Lan Zhan knows exactly what this is doing to her.
Lan Zhan comes with a loud groan and a shudder, relishing it with a few extra strokes, and Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan is usually silent when she comes, and Wei Ying almost comes at the same time just from how hot it is, before her body remembers that it can't and she whines, kicking her legs.
"So stubborn," says Lan Zhan, and brushes her thumb over Wei Ying's clit once.
Wei Ying screams, and bucks off the bed. Lan Zhan catches her, hooking one arm around her thigh, the other hand pressing down on her stomach and forcing her back down onto the mattress as Lan Zhan does it again, and again, working over Wei Ying's oversensitive clit as she thrashes uncontrollably.
She comes, and Lan Zhan keeps going with the pad of her thumb, the side of her nail catching, the crest of the second orgasm hitting before the first even fades. Lan Zhan looks like she has half a mind to keep going, to see how many she can wring out of Wei Ying as Wei Ying grapples at her, clutches as Lan Zhan's wrists to pin them together.
"Enough, enough, please, Lan Zhan," begs Wei Ying as her body shakes.
"Hm," says Lan Zhan, and relents. She leans forward and somehow folds herself around Wei Ying, who's all folded up like a dumpling, and presses a kiss to her forehead. The effect is somewhat ruined when she then also wipes her fingers, stick from Wei Ying's pussy, on the inside of Wei Ying's thigh. "For now."
She gets off the bed, leaving Wei Ying waiting at the edge and Wei Ying moans softly to make her come back. "For now? What does that mean, for now? You've ruined me and now you won't even come back to bed?"
Lan Zhan does not come back, but she does lean down to kiss Wei Ying once, twice, once more, licking her lips at the taste of herself in Wei Ying's mouth, and firmly presses Wei Ying's legs together and catches her wrist before she can sneak down to see if she can come a third time.
"Nooooo," says Wei Ying, her head lolling to watch as Lan Zhan clambers off and finally steps out of her underwear.
"You won't last at this pace," says Lan Zhan, "And I intend to have you through the night. We haven't even opened the wedding present yet."
The wild look in her eyes has subsided – a bit – like a round or two has taken the edge off. There's a healthy sheen of sweat on her skin, like she's glowing in the dimming light of the evening.
"Muh?" asks Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan points at the box, placed at the side of the bed, wrapped in red cloth. Of course.
"We can do presents afterwards," protests Wei Ying, rolling onto her side, everything from the hip down a pleasant fizz. "You didn't even warn me what that Lan incense was going to do to me!"
"The presents are for the marital night." Lan Zhan's eyes go all soft, and she slides in neatly so that Wei Ying's cheek pillows against her bare thigh. Wei Ying nuzzles against it. "I wanted to see you, afterwards. Desperate."
"I'm always desperate," says Wei Ying mulishly, and bites Lan Zhan's thigh as she opens the string on the box.
"Hm. Not yet, you aren't," says Lan Zhan, drawing an incense burner and a whole pack of the incense out of the box.
Wei Ying makes a helpless noise and gives a whole-body shudder at the thought of it, and buries her face into Lan Zhan's hip. And then the most embarrassing thing occurs to her. "Why is your clan like this. I can't believe they all – they all know. Presents for the marital night, argh!"
"It's customary," says Lan Zhan. "We tout restraint as one of our core values, and our wedded are the only ones with whom we can leave that restraint behind. But after a lifetime of practising it, it can be difficult to shed all of that so quickly without feeling like you're going against the principles. That's why we have the mandated time to reflect on our marital duties beforehand."
When Lan Zhan says it like that, it seems so obvious. 'Marital duties'. Of course.
"I didn't realise it was a euphemism!" says Wei Ying indignantly. "I thought, given the rest of the Lan teachings, it was actually about marital duties."
Lan Zhan looks at her curiously. "What were you doing in that time?"
"Meditating! Like a good little Lan! Thinking about how to be a good wife, Lan Zhan. You know, I'll cook for you on nighthunts and we can take turns with the night watch, and I'll help you answer sect correspondence."
Lan Zhan blinks. "Sect correspondence."
"Yes, well," mumbles Wei Ying. "I have nice handwriting."
"You do," agrees Lan Zhan immediately. A pause. "I spent the time thinking of forty-three different ways I intend to make you come. We have only accomplished two."
Wei Ying lets out a half-strangled scream and hides her face in her hands. Unbelievable. "You've never had trouble leaving your restraint behind. Er-jiejie, I remember you throwing me over any surface possible and having your way with me whenever you wanted."
"Not every time," says Lan Zhan solemnly. "You would have never been allowed to leave the bed otherwise."
Wei Ying peeks out at her, mouth stretched wide in a grin. Her Lan Zhan is so funny, and so quick minded, and so delightful. And so, so insatiable. Her pussy is throbbing again. "How much of that incense do we have?"
Lan Zhan glances at it, counts the sticks and the shichen in her head. "About ten days."
A frisson runs through Wei Ying at the anticipation. "Oh, my."