Work Text:
Lan Wangji is hosting a meeting, one of many scheduled for today.
The door slides open, and Lan Jingyi pokes his head through. His eyes find Lan Wangji’s. He mouths four words.
Lan Wangji is on his feet by the end of the second word. “Excuse me,” he mutters to no one in particular.
There is perhaps a shocked silence behind him as he exits the pavilion. He can’t be sure because his heart is pounding in his ears.
“I sent him to the Jingshi,” Lan Jingyi says when Lan Wangji reaches him on the walkway.
“Thank you. Is he injured?”
“I don’t think so.”
Lan Wangji nods and sets off toward the Jingshi. His pace is brisk, but not brisk enough. He jumps onto Bichen and flies low over the compound. That is not exactly forbidden, though it is frowned upon. He flies too fast to notice any potential frowns.
There is a dark shape sitting on the Jingshi’s steps. As he flies closer, he can make out the dizi spinning in its fingers. Something clenches in Lan Wangji’s gut, something like hunger.
Three months. It has been three months since he parted from Wei Ying on that cliff. Since he wished Wei Ying well on his journey, believing he was doing the right thing in staying behind. Believing that he could best honor Wei Ying’s many sacrifices by serving as the chief cultivator. Believing that he could make a difference. Wei Ying deserved his chance at freedom, at a new life. Lan Wangji had told himself that letting Wei Ying go was the best way to keep him safe.
Three months of regret. Three months of starving slowly. Three months of hating himself for letting Wei Ying slip through his fingers yet again.
Wei Ying looks up, perhaps at the sound of Lan Wangji’s robes flapping in the wind. He shades his eyes and grins.
Lan Wangji’s stomach flips like he’s fallen from his sword. He drops to the pathway a little too quickly, the worst landing he’s made since he was fourteen. He doesn’t take his eyes off Wei Ying.
Wei Ying chuckles low and stands up. He takes a strolling step forward and tucks the dizi behind his back. “That was quick.”
Lan Wangji drinks him in: the gray smudges on his black robes, the red ribbon fluttering in the breeze, the grin turning shy and cautious.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying’s eyes close for a single pounding heartbeat. Then those laughing eyes are back on Lan Wangji’s. “Hi, Lan Zhan.”
*
Wei Ying takes the seat that Lan Wangji offers him, but he cranes his neck to inspect the Jingshi. Little has changed since Wei Ying was last here. Actually, nothing has changed—except for Wei Ying’s absence making the rooms feel stale and hollow.
“You didn’t have to come right away,” Wei Ying says as Lan Wangji slides over his tea. “I know you must be busy. I told the kid it wasn’t a big deal.”
Unease crawls through Lan Wangji’s gut. He would feel much calmer if Wei Ying pouted and complained that Lan Wangji took too long to arrive, that Lan Wangji should be happier to see him. If Wei Ying demanded Emperor’s Smile instead of tea.
“I am never too busy for Wei Ying. You did not have to wait on the steps.”
Wei Ying shrugs. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Wei Ying is always welcome.”
“That is very kind of you.” Wei Ying drinks his tea in polite little sips. He sits still and composed, a tiny rueful smile barely curving his lips.
No, this is not good at all.
“Wei Ying, has something happened? Are you injured?”
Wei Ying’s eyes fly wide before he shutters his surprise. His guilt. “No, nothing’s wrong. What, I can’t just drop by for a visit with my dear friend?”
Lan Wangji sighs. Does Wei Ying honestly expect him to be distracted by such obvious deflections? “Wei Ying, please tell me.”
Wei Ying groans and pushes up from the table. Lan Wangji watches him wander around the room, inspecting the shelves. The dizi spins lazily.
“Whatever it is, I will be happy to help.”
Wei Ying snorts and pretends to be captivated by a tapestry. “You must be bored.”
“Yes.”
That admission earns him a chuckle and a quick delighted glance.
“But I would wish to help, regardless.”
“I know,” Wei Ying murmurs to the tapestry. He sighs and turns to face Lan Wangji, smiling that dismal smile. “I didn’t come here seeking help, Lan Zhan. I just wanted . . .” His eyes wander aside again. “I’m just a weary traveler looking for a familiar face.”
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you, Lan Zhan, but I won’t be here long.”
“Why?” Lan Wangji blurts, hearing the desperation in his own voice. “Where will you go?”
“I . . .” Clearly, Wei Ying wasn’t expecting to be challenged. That is understandable: Lan Wangji let him go so easily last time. “I have things to take care of.”
“What things? Perhaps I can help.”
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying turns aside. Chenqing spins faster. “You have more important things to do.”
“I do not.”
Wei Ying drops his head back and sighs at the ceiling. “When did you get so stubborn, Lan Zhan?”
“I learned it from Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying sputters a laugh and turns to him, grinning. This smile is sincere. “I’ve been such a bad influence on you, Hanguang Jun. But I don’t think that’s true. You were always unyielding.”
“I was. But Wei Ying was not a bad influence. Wei Ying taught me how to determine what is just. What is honorable.”
Wei Ying’s mouth falls open. The dizi dangles from his fingers.
“Will Wei Ying do me the honor of being honest with me?” Guilt stings him for a moment. He is not being honest, either, is he?
Wei Ying turns toward the door, studying it like he’s considering walking back out. Then he groans and sits back down on the cushion. “Fine. I guess I owe you that much.”
“You do not owe me anything.”
Wei Ying cocks an eyebrow over his teacup, but he doesn’t argue. He slurps his tea, which makes Lan Wangji feel a little better, then sets the cup on the table. “Okay, Lan Zhan. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. Why not? It’ll all be over soon, anyway. I’m going to need something stronger than tea to tell this tale, though.”
*
Lan Wangji listens with growing horror as Wei Ying tells his tale. Wei Ying spins the story with his usual flair, but it does not divert Lan Wangji’s attention from the crux of the matter: Wei Ying has been cursed. The curse is fatal. Wei Ying has not admitted to being cursed yet, but Lan Wangji is no fool. Not about thing like this, anyway.
The tale begins with Wei Ying investigating suspicious deaths in a village. Four villagers dead, one apparent survivor. Witnesses spoke of uncharacteristic behavior that suggested supernatural influence.
Wei Ying pauses there to drink from the cup of Emperor’s Smile that Lan Wangji poured him.
“What kind of behavior?” Lan Wangji prompts.
“Well, one of the victims propositioned some customers in a tavern.”
“That does not seem unusual.”
“It was more the method of the proposition. He threw off his clothes and ran around the tavern, demanding for people to . . .”
“I see.”
“Yeah.”
Further investigation indicated that the curse was only active between sundown and sunrise. Speaking with the sole survivor—not the man from the tavern—verified this.
Lan Wangji interrupts to ask how the victim survived. It’s obvious where Wei Ying’s story is leading, and Lan Wangji is impatient to learn what must be done to save Wei Ying from the curse.
“Let me tell it my way, Lan Zhan. So impatient.”
The survivor had no idea about the curse’s origin. Wei Ying suspected that it worked something like an illness, spreading erratically through the village.
“I think it only targeted single people,” Wei Ying says, “But I can’t be sure. It’s possible that some married people were affected and they just didn’t realize it.”
“How could that be?” Lan Wangji asks, but Wei Ying ignores the question.
After determining the original victim, Wei Ying traced the man’s movements to a cave in the nearby woods.
“It’s always a cave, isn’t it?” Wei Ying says. “I get that they’re convenient places to hide monsters and cursed objects, but just once, I’d like for an investigation to end in a nice meadow, you know?”
“Wei Ying.”
“I’m just saying.”
In the cave, Wei Ying discovered a shrine, a corpse, and a poem detailing the curse.
“A really bad poem,” Wei Ying says, sneering. “It was so melodramatic! Sniveling and brooding dressed up in cheap metaphors. Why couldn’t that guy just write a romance novel instead of drumming up some ridiculous curse?”
“What is the cure?”
Wei Ying sighs. “The victim must ‘lie in the embrace of their beloved.’ They get one xun to fall in love or convince their beloved to embrace them. If they fail . . .” Wei Ying shrugs and throws back his wine.
“How long ago were you cursed?”
Wei Ying drags his sleeve over his mouth. He does not insult Lan Wangji by denying it. “Ten days.”
Lan Wangji’s hands clench on his knees. Tonight is the last night, then. “I take it that ‘lie in the embrace of their beloved’ refers to sex.”
Wei Ying chokes on his next drink of wine and turns bright red. “Yeah. The curse, um, encourages that. Tavern guy was the most obvious, but from what I gleaned through delicate interrogation, all the victims experienced . . . you know.”
“What of the survivor?”
“He was in love with a local woman. They’re getting married soon. Sweet kids.”
“Tell me exactly what the poem said.”
Wei Ying scowls but recites the poem. It is terrible, but there’s one line that catches Lan Wangji’s interest.
“‘Made anew’?”
“Yeah. ‘Made anew by true love’s confession,’ ‘lips meeting and rejoicing.’ Did I mention that this asshole was trying to make a living as a poet?” Wei Ying shudders.
“And the curse only targeted those who were unmarried?”
“As far as I know. But a curse like this—I mean, a married person would just have to ‘embrace’ their husband or wife, you know?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps the curse only targets those who have not confessed their love—who have not ‘bared their hearts and their loins.’”
Wei Ying pretends to retch. “You’re probably right. It isn’t like I could just ask all the married people if they’d been particularly horny recently.”
And have you been particularly horny? Lan Wangji pushes away the delectably wicked imagery that thought inspires. The answer is obvious, and it is vile for him to be so callous about Wei Ying’s dilemma.
“It doesn’t really matter now,” Wei Ying says. “I destroyed the shrine and laid the asshole’s spirit to rest. I stuck some talismans in the cave, and the villagers are going to seal it off. Someone may dig it out a thousand years from now, but it’s safe for the time being.
“No one else has been affected?”
Wei Ying shakes his head. “It’s one of those one-person-at-a-time deals.” Then his head shoots up, his eyes wide. “You’ll be fine! I’m not going to stay long, and I’m pretty sure that the curse only moves on once the host is dead. I’m going to make sure it ends with me.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji gasps.
“It’s okay, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying has the audacity to smile at him. “I’ve made my peace with it. I figure I’m living on borrowed time anyway. Most people don’t get a second chance, so it seems greedy to be mad that mine’s kind of short.”
“Wei Ying!”
“This is why I didn’t want to say anything. I mean, it’s good that you can tell Sizhui what happened so that he doesn’t . . . But I didn’t come here so that you could save me. You can’t. It’s okay.”
“We can break it.”
“No, we can’t. That asshole was a shitty poet, but he was pretty fucking talented at curses. I’ve tried everything. I even made up some new stuff, but nothing worked.”
“The cure—”
“Tried that, too.” Wei Ying smirks and keeps his eyes on the table. “Three times, actually. One woman and two men. I tried it every way I could think of. The woman charged me extra.” He pouts like that hurt his feelings.
Lan Wangji’s nails dig deeper into his thighs. “They were courtesans?”
“Two of them were. The other guy was just . . . convenient.”
“But they were strangers.”
“Yeah. I was hoping the ‘beloved’ part was negotiable. Guess not.”
“I will do it.” The words are out before Lan Wangji lined them up in his head, but he doesn’t regret it.
Wei Ying freezes. His face twists into several expressions, his mouth working to form words that don’t emerge. “You’ll do what?”
“Do not be obtuse.”
“Obtuse? Lan Zhan—”
“I will do it.”
“Lan Zhan, it—what do you—it won’t work!”
Lan Wangji ignores the pain this causes. He is not Wei Ying’s beloved. He knew that already. But Wei Ying is his. And they are dear friends. Zhiji. That might be enough.
“It might. There is a chance.”
“How?” Wei Ying throws out his arms, flapping them like he’s trying to take flight. “I told you that it can’t just be . . . just having sex isn’t enough.”
“I heard you. It could work.”
Wei Ying’s arms drift down to his sides. His face is bleak, the corners of his mouth dragging down. “Why?” he croaks. “Why would it work?”
Lan Wangji tries to breathe around the fear clogging his chest. If it doesn’t work, Wei Ying will be dead by morning. Nothing could be worse than that. Even dragging out decades of longing and laying them dripping on Wei Ying’s lap could not be worse than that.
Lan Wangji holds Wei Ying’s gaze and doesn’t dare to blink. “Because I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. Perhaps that will be enough to satisfy the curse.”
It is worth it, Lan Wangji tells himself as Wei Ying gapes at him, red creeping over his cheeks. If nothing else, at least Wei Ying knows now. At least Wei Ying knows that he is loved. Not as he deserves to be loved, but this is all Lan Wangji can give him now.
“What?” Wei Ying’s voice breaks on the question. Tears shimmer in his eyes. “Lan Zhan, what?”
“I love you. You are my—”
Wei Ying snatches up his cup and hurls it at Lan Wangji’s chest. Lan Wangji is so shocked that he doesn’t move to deflect it. The cup bounces off his chest and clatters to the floor.
“Don’t!” Wei Ying snarls. “Don’t do that!”
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji has imagined Wei Ying’s reaction to his confession many times, but none of his fantasies ever included crockery thrown at his chest.
“You can’t pretend! You can’t fool the curse like that! You can’t just say that if you don’t mean it!”
“Wei Ying, I mean it. I’m not pretending.”
“‘Perhaps that will be enough to satisfy the curse.’ That’s what you said. Like just saying the words would be enough. Well, that asshole was an idiot and a terrible poet, but I bet his curse knows if you’re faking it!”
“Wei Ying, I am not faking it. I said that because . . . I meant that my love might be enough to break the curse even if you do not return my feelings.”
“Of course I return your feelings! Your fake feelings! Mine aren’t fake! You’re the one who doesn’t have feelings! Now who’s being obtuse?”
Hope crawls slowly from Lan Wangji’s gut, spreading sunlight through his chest. “I think we have both been obtuse.”
“Huh?” Wei Ying swipes tears from his cheek and scowls at the table.
“Do you love me, Wei Ying?”
“Yeah. So?”
Lan Wangji feels the smile curling his lips. “You are in love with me?”
Wei Ying rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are you making such a big deal about it? Half the world is probably in love with you. Just look at you.” He frees a hand to wave it at Lan Wangji.
“You like the way I look?”
“Of course I like the way you look. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I like the way Wei Ying looks, too.”
Lan Wangji kneels beside Wei Ying. Wei Ying shoots him a suspicious look from the corner of his eye and turns away.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at my beloved.”
Wei Ying groans and covers his eyes. “Lan Zhan, are you cursed, too? Did you get infected by some shitty poet?”
“No.” He tugs Wei Ying’s hand from his eyes and holds it between his palms. “Wei Ying, I love you.”
Wei Ying makes a sound like a small, hurt animal and turns to him. “Really?”
“Really. Wei Ying, we can break the curse.”
“Oh.” Wei Ying blinks, tears clinging to his lashes. “Oh.”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji’s cheeks ache from smiling. “If you wish to embrace me.”
A pained laugh wheezes from Wei Ying’s slack lips. “You want to . . .?”
“I do. Very much.”
“Oh fuck. You’re sure?”
“I am sure. Are you?”
Wei Ying only blinks at him, and Lan Wangji’s smile droops a little. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. Do you . . . do you really think it’ll work?”
Lan Wangji cups Wei Ying’s cheek. Wei Ying hardly seems to notice. His eyes are locked on Lan Wangji’s. Lan Wangji moves in slowly and kisses him. Wei Ying sighs into the kiss like he’s releasing a breath that he held too long. That is how it feels for Lan Wangji, as well. Like he is only now learning to breathe, taking his air from Wei Ying’s mouth in slow, sweet sips.
He pulls back only enough to see Wei Ying’s expression. It is not one he has seen before. There is something fragile in the wideness of Wei Ying’s eyes, in his gaping mouth, slick from Lan Wangji’s kiss. At some point, Wei Ying’s fingers wrapped around Lan Wangji’s wrist, holding Lan Wangji’s hand to his cheek.
“It will work,” Lan Wangji murmurs. It has to. He pulls Wei Ying closer and kisses him. And kisses him. So many years wasted not kissing Wei Ying.
There is no more speaking for a long time. Instead, Lan Wangji learns how Wei Ying sighs and moans as Lan Wangji kisses him, learns how his own breath hums and gasps as their mouths fit together and slide apart, slick and hot. He learns how they both groan when their tongues meet. He learns how Wei Ying shudders when Lan Wangji moves his hand to the back of Wei Ying’s neck and holds him close.
Wei Ying’s arms twine around his shoulders and tangle in his hair. They push closer, the table a barrier until Wei Ying launches off the cushion and into Lan Wangji’s arms. Lan Wangji falls back, bringing Wei Ying with him, and Wei Ying wraps around him, wriggling his way into Lan Wangji’s lap.
Through it all, their mouths never part for more than desperate drags of breath before meeting again.
It would be perfect if it were not for one thing.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji gasps. Wei Ying is shifting in his lap, his chest pressing the wine-dampened robe against Lan Wangji’s skin. Wei Ying’s hips roll, pressing his ass against Lan Wangji’s erection.
“Wei Ying,” he tries again, trying to make his eyes stay open despite how every press of Wei Ying’s body makes them want to flutter shut. “Wait.” He ignores his own words to suck Wei Ying’s delicious lower lip. “We have to wait.”
“No,” Wei Ying moans. His thighs tighten around Lan Wangji’s hips. His fingers dig into Lan Wangji’s shoulders.
Lan Wangji wrests his mouth free. “Sundown,” Lan Wangji says, pleading now. “We have to wait until sundown.”
At first, Wei Ying ignores him to press kisses to his clenched jaw. Then he pulls back. “What? Why?”
Staring at Wei Ying’s red, wet, swollen lips drives all thought from Lan Wangji’s head for a moment. “The curse,” he manages, finally. “It has to be broken between sunset and sunrise.”
Wei Ying scowls. His hands keep roving Lan Wangji’s shoulders like they aren’t paying attention to the conversation. “What? Who says? That isn’t in the poem.”
“It is,” Lan Wangji insists. His body is quite displeased with this delay and tries to make its wishes known. “The poem indicates that the embrace must occur in the ‘veil of night.’”
“No.” Wei Ying leans back, which settles him more firmly on Lan Wangji’s cock. Lan Wangji hisses, and Wei Ying squirms, grinning. “No, that’s just a tortured metaphor.”
“It is not. You said the curse only affects victims at night. It is logical that the cure must be attempted while the curse is active.” He is rather shocked that he can still articulate his thoughts with his cock nestled against Wei Ying’s ass.
Wei Ying chuckles. His eyelids flutter flirtatiously. His rabbit teeth bite into his kiss-swollen lip. It is wonderful. It is agonizing. “Maybe I was wrong. It’s feeling pretty active right now.”
Lan Wangji forces his hands to stop groping Wei Ying’s waist, but there’s really no safe place to put them currently. Thighs certainly wouldn’t be safer. Finally, he presses his hands to the floor.
“If we do not wait until nightfall, the cure may not be effective.”
“No, that can’t be right. You’re saying it might not count if it isn’t our first time?”
“Yes. It’s possible, anyway, given the targets and the poem’s language. It is better to wait. To be sure.”
Wei Ying’s eyes narrow. “You want to wait until after sunset?”
Absolutely not. “Yes. I think that would be wise.”
Wei Ying considers this, perched in Lan Wangji’s lap like he sits there every day, like he’s found a seat that suits him well. Lan Wangji would be delighted by this under different circumstances.
“We have to wait,” Wei Ying says slowly, like he’s examining the reasoning.
“Yes.”
“Until after sunset.”
“Yes.”
“How long until sunset?”
Lan Wangji knows roughly when he left the meeting, but he has no idea how long they were kissing. Minutes? Hours? He studies the sunlight streaming through the windows. His heart plummets. “Approximately six hours.”
Wei Ying drops his forehead to Lan Wangji’s shoulder and groans. “Fuck me.”
“I would very much like to.”
Wei Ying laughs, his body quaking and threatening the flimsy control Lan Wangji has on his desire. “I forget how funny you are sometimes, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji, who was not joking, says nothing and allows Wei Ying to kiss his neck until he must object or lose all reason. “Wei Ying, we have to wait.”
Wei Ying moans and rolls off him, landing on his back on the floor. His erection tents his black robes. Lan Wangji is having a difficult time looking away from it.
Somehow, he makes himself move back to his cushion. He lays his hands in his lap—his lap which is still warm from Wei Ying’s ass.
Wei Ying stays on the floor, fingers drumming his chest. “I’d rather do it now,” Wei Ying says softly, his eyes trained on the ceiling. “Instead of when the curse—I’d rather do it when I’m in control.”
“Yes, that would be preferable,” Lan Wangji says, like they’re discussing dinner arrangements. “How badly does it affect you?”
Wei Ying sighs and sways his bent knees. Lan Wangji imagines himself held between those thighs and misses the first part of Wei Ying’s answer.
“. . . but it’s not that bad. Well, the guy who stripped naked in the tavern might say differently, but I think that guy was kind of depraved already. I mean, the other villagers didn’t even seem that shocked about it.”
“So will you be able to . . .?”
Wei Ying rolls onto his side and props his cheek on his hand. “To what, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji feels his ears burning. “If there is something you do not like, will you be able to tell me?”
The grin spreads slow on Wei Ying’s face, spreading until his eyes crinkle. “Like what, Lan Zhan? What are you planning to do to me?”
So many things. “What would you like for me to do to you?”
Wei Ying groans and rolls onto his stomach, shifting his hips like he’s—like he’s rutting against the floor. Rutting against the floor as he thinks about how he would like Lan Wangji to fuck him.
Finally, Wei Ying props his chin on his folded arms. “Are you a virgin, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji drops his eyes to the table. “No.”
“Really?”
Guilt curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach, but Wei Ying doesn’t seem upset. Wei Ying pushes off the floor and perches on the cushion beside him. “Was it a man or a woman? Or was there more than one?”
“A man. Just one. It was a long time ago.” While you were gone. When out of desperation, I tried to find a way to let you go.
“Was he . . .?”
“He was no one. He was no one to me.”
Wei Ying takes his hand and twines their fingers together. “It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I’m glad. I wouldn’t want your first time to be with a guy who’s cursed.”
Lan Wangji isn’t sure that he wants to know, but he asks anyway. “Were you a virgin? Before the curse?”
“I was. I guess I wasted my youth, huh?”
“I’m sorry.” It should have been him. If he hadn’t been so stubborn about giving Wei Ying his freedom, it could have been him. Or better yet, Wei Ying wouldn’t have been in that damned village in the first place—alone and ripe for the shitty poet’s curse.
Wei Ying squeezes his hand. “Don’t be sorry, silly. You’re going to cure me in approximately six hours. Free me with true love’s kiss or whatever the fuck that guy wrote.” Then his eyebrows furrow. “Oh shit, I hope kissing doesn’t count. We’ve already done a lot of that.”
“I doubt it,” Lan Wangji says, smiling helplessly. “The curse seems designed to promote . . . further explorations.”
“Further explorations,” Wei Ying mutters back at him, grinning. “Like the plans you have for me tonight? You never did answer my question.”
“You did not answer mine, either.”
They are so close right now that all Lan Wangji would have to do is lean forward slightly to capture Wei Ying’s mouth, to free his bottom lip from the teeth Wei Ying is digging into the abused skin. They are still holding hands, their thumbs brushing together. Even that is almost unbearable.
Wei Ying sighs and frees his hand. He turns so that he’s facing the table. “Maybe we should wait to discuss that.”
“Mn.”
“So,” Wei Ying says brightly. “What should we do for the next six hours?”
“Have you eaten lunch?”
*
The idea didn't occur to Lan Wangji in time to send word to the kitchen of his guest. Thankfully, Lan Jingyi took the initiative to do that himself. He also delivers the meal.
“Thanks, kid,” Wei Ying says as Lan Jingyi sets down the tray. “How's my donkey?”
“Loud. Does that thing ever shut up?”
“Lan Jingyi,” Lan Wangji admonishes softly.
Lan Jingyi blanches and bows his apology.
Wei Ying just chuckles. “Nope, she likes to make her opinion known. Toss her an apple. She'll get over it.”
“I already did,” Lan Jingyi mumbles.
“Thank you for bringing lunch,” Lan Wangji says, very pointedly.
Lan Jingyi is sometimes brash, but he knows a dismissal when he hears one. He salutes and starts toward the door. Then he pauses in the doorway. “Is Wei-qianbei staying for dinner? I can tell the kitchen—”
“No!” Lan Wangji and Wei Ying blurt at the same time.
Lan Jingyi startles and gapes at them. Wei Ying laughs into his hands.
“Wei Ying will be staying, but we will not require dinner.”
“Oh. Okay.” Lan Jingyi looks confused, but he salutes again and leaves.
When he's gone, Wei Ying shakes his head and picks up his chopsticks. “That kid. How is someone like that in your sect?”
“What do you mean?”
Wei Ying shrugs and speaks with a mouthful of rice. “He’s so mouthy.” He swallows the rice and licks his lips. “He even went after Jiang Cheng.”
“Lan Jingyi is quite accomplished for his age.” He chooses not to comment on how Jiang Wanyin deserved it.
“So was I, but your uncle still hated me.”
“Mn.” He wishes he could dispute that. “Lan Jingyi has Lan Sizhui to moderate his behavior.”
Wei Ying chuckles and pokes Lan Wangji's arm with his chopsticks. “I had you. Didn't do much good, though, did it?”
“Lan Sizhui is a much better friend than I was.” Lan Sizhui is kind and cheerful. As far as Lan Wangji knows, Lan Sizhui has never attacked Lan Jingyi on a rooftop.
“Lan Zhan, you were a great friend! Why would you say that?”
“I was not. I wish I had behaved differently back then.”
Wei Ying throws down his chopsticks and wiggles closer to take Lan Wangji's hand. “Don't blame yourself. I made your life hell back then. I'm still making your life hell.”
“No. Not then, and not now. I wish I had gone with you when you asked. To play at Lotus Pier. I wanted to.”
Wei Ying smiles and bends to kiss his hand. “That would've been fun. Maybe I would've figured it out sooner.”
“Figured what out?”
“That I was in love with you. I'm such an idiot, Lan Zhan. I’ve been in love with you forever, but I didn't realize it until we left each other that day on the cliff. And then it seemed like it was too late.”
Lan Wangji forgets that they're supposed to wait. He forgets that they're in the middle of lunch. He throws himself at Wei Ying, and then they're kissing again. They kiss until he has pressed Wei Ying to the floor. Being held between Wei Ying's thighs is even more wonderful than he expected.
Wei Ying pants underneath him while Lan Wangji kisses his beautiful neck. “I'm such an idiot, Lan Zhan. Why didn't you tell me before? Why did you let me go?”
“Sorry,” Lan Wangji mutters against his throat. “Wei Ying, I'm sorry.”
Wei Ying whimpers and grips Lan Wangji's face in his hands, pulling it to his and burning him with kisses. “This is so good,” Wei Ying mumbles. He bites Lan Wangji's lower lip and licks the sting away. “Let's do it like this. Just like this. Except I want you inside me.”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji groans, shoving his hips down, grinding his erection against Wei Ying's thigh. He wants that. He's wanted that since he barely understood that it was possible. But he can't make himself stop rutting against Wei Ying.
“Stop,” Wei Ying hisses, but his hands grip Lan Wangji's hips, urging him on. “Lan Zhan, we have to stop.”
They have to stop. He just can't seem to remember why.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying moans. “Not yet.”
The curse. The fucking curse.
Lan Wangji heaves himself off Wei Ying so hard that he lands on his ass. The pain does nothing to abate his arousal.
Wei Ying growls and kicks his heels against the floor. “That fucking asshole. I'm going to go back to that cave and resurrect his ass. I'm going to make him the most miserable fucking ghost that's ever existed. I'm going to resurrect the people who died from his shitty little piece of shit curse and make them torture him for eternity. I'm going to give him blue balls until the end of time. I'm gonna—”
“Wei Ying.”
“What?”
“We should go for a walk.”
*
They stroll around the compound, discussing Lan Sizhui and the letters he's written each of them. Then Lan Wangji tells Wei Ying some of the less boring details of his new position. There aren't many of those. And Wei Ying shares stories from his travels. Those are much more entertaining. But then, Wei Ying could even make Lan Wangji's chief cultivator duties seem interesting.
“Can we visit your bunnies?” Wei Ying asks, his bunny teeth biting into his lip.
Lan Wangji agrees immediately, only realizing too late that visiting the rabbits will take them away from the eyes that restrained them.
“Oh fuck, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying whines and licks from Lan Wangji's throat to his ear, then nibbles on his earlobe. Unprepared for that particular sensation—as if he were prepared for any of this—Lan Wangji moans so loud that the rabbits flee in terror.
Wei Ying writhes on top of him, his hands roaming Lan Wangji's chest, his thighs spread wide to straddle Lan Wangji's hips. “I'd blame the curse,” Wei Ying mutters, “but it's just you. You're so, you're, oh fuck, Lan Zhan, you have to stop me.”
Snarling, Lan Wangji flips them, landing on top, his hands pinning Wei Ying's wrists beside his head. Wei Ying grunts. His hips buck up, his cock jabbing into Lan Wangji's thigh.
Wei Ying goes still, barely breathing. “Get off,” he mutters. “You gotta get off me right now.”
Once again, Lan Wangji throws himself to the side. He rolls until he finds his feet, and then he walks until he's on the other side of the clearing. He doesn't dare look back.
Several minutes pass before he hears Wei Ying's skirts swishing.
Only then does Lan Wangji turn around. Wei Ying moves a bit closer but maintains what is hopefully a safe distance.
“We need to go,” Wei Ying says. His face is tight and miserable. “That was too close. That was way too close.”
Lan Wangji agrees.
They walk from the clearing, side by side but not within touching distance.
“We could visit your uncle? That should do the trick.”
“No.” Their situation is desperate, but not that desperate. Not yet.
They return to the compound and watch the young disciples train for a while. This is detrimental for the disciples, who are easily distracted by their audience. The disciples do little to distract Lan Wangji from the man beside him. Watching Wei Ying smile, more radiant than the sunlight, knowing that Wei Ying is his now, is as wonderful as it is agonizing. After all these years, waiting a few more hours should not be so difficult. Having Wei Ying at his side should be enough. But even the shitty poet understood that words are not enough. Not when longing has burrowed so deep.
When the lesson ends, they stroll back and forth along the walkways, hands tucked carefully away to avoid brushing.
Finally, the sun starts to sink behind the peaks. Only an hour left. Maybe a little longer.
“Let's go back now,” Wei Ying says. “I'd like a bath.”
Lan Wangji stumbles over nothing and almost drops his sword. “A bath?”
Wei Ying sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “I know, but I'm all sweaty. And I haven't had one since . . . I really need a bath, Lan Zhan.”
“Very well.” Lan Wangji starts walking again on feet that don't seem connected to his body. Instead of the path ahead, he sees only Wei Ying—Wei Ying, naked, leaning back in the tub, his eyes low-lidded, a smile beckoning Lan Wangji closer.
Somehow, they reach the Jingshi.
Lan Wangji hovers in the doorway as Wei Ying walks behind the screen. Wei Ying's head pokes back out. “Are you—what are you doing?”
“I will be outside,” Lan Wangji says, and slides the door shut. He stands there, his nose a few inches from the door, and listens to the hiss of fabric sliding down arms, the bubbling of the talisman heating the water, the splashes as Wei Ying settles into the tub. Naked.
He whirls around and drops onto the steps so hard that his teeth clack together. He settles Bichen over his knees and stares at the orange sun oozing through the trees.
As the last light throws shadows over the water, Wei Ying slides open the door and settles beside him.
Although he tells himself not to look, Lan Wangji's eyes still slide to him. Wei Ying is wearing Lan Wangji's inner robe. And nothing else.
Lan Wangji bites down on his cheek and forces his eyes back to the trickling water.
“I borrowed a robe. Is that okay?”
Lan Wangji nods, not trusting his voice.
“Won't be long now,” Wei Ying says, and stretches his legs out in front of him. His bare legs. Lan Wangji can't stop staring at his bony knee poking through the folds. If Wei Ying only bent his knee a little more, the robe would fall open on his thigh.
“What happens after?” Wei Ying asks, his voice small and shuttered.
“After?”
“After you've saved me from the curse.”
Lan Wangji turns to him, his confusion almost overpowering the sight of Wei Ying's damp hair curling over his shoulders. “What do you mean?”
Wei Ying sighs. “I mean, I love you, you love me, but you're still the chief cultivator, and I'm still . . .” He flaps a hand in the air. “I'm still me. So what happens after?”
“Anything you want.”
“Anything?” Wei Ying grins and leans against him. “That's a tantalizing offer.”
Lan Wangji grips his sword tighter. “What would you like to happen?”
“I don't know. I've never thought it was a possibility—you and me. I guess I could stay here with you?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Is it what you want?”
“I . . . yes. Or no. I want to be with you. It does not matter to me where we go.”
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying draws into himself, tugging the robe over his chest. It is too chilly to sit on the porch in only one light robe. Especially since Wei Ying no longer has a golden core. “Don't say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it isn't true. It can't be. You're in charge of everything! You can't just drop that to leave with me.”
“I can. I would prefer that.”
“Really? You hate being in charge that much?”
“Yes. And I love you that much.”
That makes a tiny smile twitch at Wei Ying's lips, but it falls quickly. “Then why did you leave that day? I asked you to go with me, but you said no.”
“I know. I'm sorry. I thought . . . I thought that I must do this. That if I did this, then you would be safe.”
“What do you mean 'safe'?”
“From them. From their . . . reprisals.”
Wei Ying scowls. “You thought the clans would come after me?”
“It was a possibility. If the wrong person became chief cultivator.”
“Lan Zhan, you did this for me?”
“Yes. I did not ask you to stay because I knew you would be unhappy here. You were always unhappy here.”
“That isn't true! I mean, yeah, parts of it sucked, but I like your home, Lan Zhan. I like wherever you are.”
“You deserved more,” Lan Wangji insists. “You deserve to be with people who value you.”
Wei Ying snorts. “Like who? Everybody I knew is dead. Nobody likes me but you. And Sizhui. And Wen Ning. And Huaisang. Maybe.”
“We will find them,” Lan Wangji says. “We will find the people who will love you like you deserve to be loved.”
Wei Ying shoves off the step and wraps himself around Lan Wangji's back. “You deserve that, too, you know.” He tucks his chin over Lan Wangji's shoulder. “You're the best person I know. That I've ever known.”
Lan Wangji smiles and covers Wei Ying's hands with his own. “Wei Ying is the best person I've ever known.”
Wei Ying responds by squeezing him tight.
“We should go inside,” Lan Wangji says. “It is cold.”
Wei Ying kisses his shoulder. “Okay.”
Lan Wangji stands and turns to offer Wei Ying his hand. Wei Ying smiles and lets Lan Wangji pull him to his feet.
They head inside and shut the door behind them. It is almost dark enough to need the lanterns.
“Come on.” Wei Ying tugs his hand. “Let me take your hair down.”
Lan Wangji sits so that Wei Ying can remove his guan. Then Wei Ying's fingers card through his hair. “I've always wanted to do this,” Wei Ying says. “Silly, I know.”
“It is not silly.”
Wei Ying sighs and bends down, wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji's chest. “It's starting,” Wei Ying whispers into his hair. “I can feel it.”
Lan Wangji turns in his arms and presses his face to Wei Ying's stomach. Wei Ying holds him there, smoothing his hands over Lan Wangji's hair. Even this is more than Lan Wangji ever thought he'd have, especially in those long, cold years when Wei Ying was gone.
“Wei Ying,” he pleads.
“I'm here.” Wei Ying cups his face and tilts up his chin. His lips press against Lan Wangji's forehead and move down to his lips. “I'm here, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji moans against his mouth and pulls him closer, pushing to his feet and locking his arms around Wei Ying's back. He will not let go this time. He does not have to let go this time.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying struggles free of his arms and stumbles back. “Lan Zhan, wait!”
“Why?” There are only minutes left now. It is so close.
“We aren't married!”
“I know?”
“We can't do this if we aren't married.”
“Why not?” Obviously, they can. They have. Just with other people.
“We have to do this right!”
“Wei Ying—”
“No.” Wei Ying dances back, evading Lan Wangji's yearning arms. “No way. Even if you don't want to be chief cultivator, you're still Hanguang Jun. I'm not deflowering you and pissing everybody off again.”
“I have already been deflowered.”
“They don't know that!”
“Who?”
“Everybody! You didn't spread it around, did you?”
“No.”
“See?” Wei Ying crosses his arms over his chest. That makes the robe gape open wider. There is a mark peeking out from the robe, just over his heart. The curse mark, no doubt. That would be where a shitty poet would want it to appear.
“And maybe I don't want people gossiping about how I shacked up with you, either. Nobody knows about my little indiscretions. I mean, people probably suspect I'm not a virgin—I've heard those ridiculous rumors about what I got up to in the Burial Mounds—but I know those aren't true. So we're gonna do this right.”
Lan Wangji gives himself a moment to process all that. It's more difficult to parse Wei Ying's barrage of words when he's distracted by all that skin.
“You wish to be married?”
Wei Ying jams his hands on his hips. “Yes. Haven't you been listening?”
“Fine.” Lan Wangji drops to his knees and clasps his hands in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
“We are getting married.”
“Just like that?”
Lan Wangji's arms fall to his sides. “What?”
“Just 'fine'? You aren't even going to ask me? Or, I don't know, light some incense?”
Lan Wangji sighs and stands up. He lights the incense burner on the dining table, then the lanterns. Wei Ying watches this with his hip cocked, scowling.
Once the lanterns are lit, Lan Wangji goes to him. “Wei Ying. I love you more than I can say. I would be honored to be your husband. Will you—”
Wei Ying groans into his hands. “Okay, stop,” he mumbles. “That's enough. You were right. Let's just do it.”
For a moment, Lan Wangji considers insisting that Wei Ying accept his proposal. Or that Wei Ying propose to him, instead. But that would only cause further delay.
Lan Wangji sinks to his knees. Wei Ying joins him on the ground. They raise their arms together and bow to the wall.
As they're completing the second bow, Wei Ying says, “You know, we've actually done this before. Kind of. Back in Lotus Pier.”
“I know.”
Lan Wangji waits until they're upright again, about to sink into the third bow. “I tied my ribbon around your wrist. By sect principles, we could consider that a wedding.”
“What?” Wei Ying's arms flail, and he nearly topples to the side.
Lan Wangji keeps going, and Wei Ying follows, rushing the prostration.
“You do not remember?”
“I remember. You're saying that technically, we've been married all this time?”
Lan Wangji rises from the final bow and turns to him. “In a way, yes.”
Wei Ying shoves him. Lan Wangji pretends his shove was enough to knock him to the floor so that Wei Ying can crawl on top of him.
“I cannot believe you,” Wei Ying hisses. “All this time? How could you keep that a secret?”
Lan Wangji ignores that question to kiss his husband, but Wei Ying lifts his head out of reach.
“I asked you to explain yourself, Lan Zhan.”
“I didn't think you would be pleased.”
“Well, you're an idiot.”
“I know.”
Lan Wangji pushes up and gathers Wei Ying's squirming body in his arms. Then he stands and starts moving toward the bed.
Wei Ying lets out a single squeak and then stays silent for the rest of the journey.
Lan Wangji lays him on the bed and toes off his boots, then climbs on top of him. Wei Ying blinks up at him, slack-jawed.
“Wei Ying, do you not want . . .?”
“Yeah, no, this is great. Sorry. You're just—you're really strong.” Wei Ying shakes his head as if to clear it. “I think the curse is getting to me.”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji spreads open Wei Ying's robe—Lan Wangji’s robe that Wei Ying is wearing—to reveal the mark. It's in the shape of an orchid. Unsurprising, really. He lowers his head to press a kiss above it.
“Yeah, definitely getting to me,” Wei Ying mumbles. “Come here. Just come here.”
Lan Wangji lowers himself into Wei Ying's arms and kisses him. And kisses him.
They tumble, locked together, tugging at Lan Wangji’s clothes until he is down to his trousers, his shirt dangling from one shoulder. He flaps his arm until it falls to the floor.
“So messy, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Ying grins and hauls him back. “Come here.”
Come here. Wei Ying says it again and again, no matter how close they are. Lan Wangji understands. They can never be close enough.
Wei Ying's skin burns, slick with sweat. His eyes grow glassy, his movements erratic. “Lan Zhan,” he slurs, the familiar words barely recognizable. “Need it. Please.”
Lan Wangji pulls off Wei Ying’s robe. Wei Ying's cock is flushed dark, bobbing in the air, his stomach slick where his cock has leaked. The curse mark smolders on his chest like hot coals.
Wei Ying lurches up, clinging to him. “Please.”
“I know.” Lan Wangji presses his lips to Wei Ying's forehead. “I am here. “
Lan Wangji fights free to grab the oil he's kept under his bed since he was a teenager. He slicks his fingers and pushes Wei Ying down, spreading his thighs. Two fingers slip in inside.
“Faster,” Wei Ying pants, tossing his head. “Have to go faster. Not gonna last.”
It should count. Even if Wei Ying comes from just this, surely the curse will consider their love requited.
“Lan Zhan!” For a moment, Wei Ying is here with him, glorious in his fury. “Lan Zhan, do it!”
Lan Wangji shoves in a third finger, and Wei Ying howls, clenching around him. Then he is gone again, writhing and muttering, a wild thing that only knows lust.
Lan Wangji yanks his fingers free, shoves down his pants, and slicks his cock, holding himself taut to keep from spilling over his fingers.
He lays himself over Wei Ying, sliding his cock between Wei Ying's slick thighs. “Wei Ying.”
“Please,” Wei Ying whimpers, his eyes shut tight.
“Wei Ying. Look at me.”
Wei Ying's eyes flutter open. “Lan Zhan?”
“Wei Ying, I love you.”
Moaning, Wei Ying clenches his eyes shut.
“Wei Ying, stay with me.”
“I'm here. I'm here, Lan Zhan. Do it. Do it, please.”
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji presses his forehead to Wei Ying's and pushes inside.
He's so tight. Too tight. Lan Wangji must be hurting him, but Wei Ying keens and digs his fingers into Lan Wangji's back, locks his legs around Lan Wangji’s hips, pulling him farther in.
“You're—” Wei Ying gasps. “Oh, you're—don't let me go again. Lan Zhan, don't let me go.”
“Wei Ying.” His skin is scorched everywhere it touches Wei Ying, their chests slipping and sucking as he moves. But it's nothing compared to the heat inside him.
“I'm—Lan Zhan, I have to—”
“I know. You can.” The curse mark burns brighter, brighter than the lanterns glowing around them.
He rocks up as much as Wei Ying's arms allow, works a hand between them to grip Wei Ying's cock.
Wei Ying wails. He spurts hot over Lan Wangji's hand, soaking their stomachs.
The curse mark flames brighter, blinding for a moment, and then fizzles out, leaving Wei Ying's chest smooth.
“Wei Ying.” He smiles down at Wei Ying's flushed face, the damp hair sticking to his cheeks. “It is done.”
Wei Ying gives him a crooked smile. He doesn't look down at his chest. “You did it, Lan Zhan.”
Wei Ying's hands smooth his hair and stroke his back. His smile sharpens into a grin. “Now fuck me, Lan Zhan. I know you've got more than this.”
Lan Wangji grins back at him. “Mark your words.”
He pulls Wei Ying's hands from his back and pins them to the bed. And then he fucks him.
Not for long, sadly. The day has been . . . trying. But there will be more chances. He does not have to let go this time. He never has to let go.
Wei Ying moans and croons, smiling up at him until Lan Wangji surrenders and shoves deep, groaning his relief into Wei Ying's neck.
His mouth finds Wei Ying’s again. Wei Ying smiles against his lips. He doesn’t want to stop kissing Wei Ying—his husband—but there is no rush. They will have time now. He will make sure of it.
He lets his cock slip free and shifts onto his side.
Wei Ying wiggles onto his side and smiles at him. “Do we really get to do that every day? Whenever we want?”
Lan Wangji nods, still trying to catch his breath. “We are married, after all.”
“Oh shit, we are!” Wei Ying pushes himself up and drags a hand through his matted hair. “Oh shit.”
Lan Wangji's brain is too frazzled for complex thought right now. “Did you not want to get married?”
Wei Ying barks a laugh. “Of course I wanted to. I was just kind of . . . it just happened so fast.”
Lan Wangji sighs and sits up to press a kiss to Wei Ying's shoulder. “Are you saying that you don't remember getting married?”
“No, I remember. It's just kind of . . . hazy.”
“Hazy.”
“I was cursed, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying shoves his shoulder. Lan Wangji does not pretend to be moved this time. Wei Ying winces and cradles his hand.
“I suppose we could marry again. When you are capable of remembering.”
Wei Ying snorts. “For the fourth time?”
“As many times as it takes.”
Wei Ying laughs and kisses him. “I will marry you every day, Lan Zhan.”
“Wei Ying should propose next time.”
“Technically, I proposed this time.”
“That is not how I remember it.”
Wei Ying groans and flops down on the bed. “Fine, I’ll propose next time. It’s going to be romantic. It’s going to be beautiful.”
Lan Wangji lies down beside him and strokes his fingers over Wei Ying’s heart. “I look forward to it.”
A smile that Lan Wangji has never seen before softens Wei Ying’s mouth. It is gentle and fond. His husband’s smile.
“Lan Zhan, I should’ve known you’d save me.”
Lan Wangji spreads his fingers over Wei Ying’s heart, presses his lips to Wei Ying’s forehead. So close. He had come so close to losing Wei Ying yet again.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers. “Are you really mine now?”
“I have always been yours. Are you mine, Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying nuzzles into his neck. “Always was, Lan Zhan. Now kiss me.”
Lan Wangji holds him close and kisses him. And kisses him.