Chapter Text
Life really never could be easy when it came to Wei Wuxian. The borrower seemed to have a way of playing havoc with Lan Wangji’s heart.
It was hard to pinpoint the first instance that Wei Wuxian caused Lan Wangji a significant scare, because it seemed to have truly begun from the very moment he had dropped out the air directly onto Lan Wangji’s ribbon. In hindsight though, what had at the time been quite a trying incident, really looked laughably benign. A more significant incident might be that of Biling Lake, when Lan Wangji had truly feared that Wei Wuxian might be lost in the dark, resentful waters. His heart had beat hard enough to make him feel sick; its rhythm had betrayed him in a way he wasn’t used to his body betraying him. It wasn’t until he had found Wei Wuxian safe in his brother’s hands that he had felt his pulse return to normal.
And that hardly been the end of it. No sooner had Lan Wangji recovered from that scare than he had been confronted by a half-drowned and badly injured Wei Wuxian after his den had flooded in the night. Finding a bloody, disoriented Wei Wuxian who had been too reluctant to even seek his help had done one painful blow to his heart after another.
Having Wei Wuxian safely under the Jingshi roof had calmed those fears briefly, before he somehow introduced a whole new way that Lan Wangji’s heart could be abused: namely that he now slept within arm’s reach of Lan Wangji. You would think this wouldn’t be that different from the norm, seeing how he had often fallen asleep to Wei Wuxian’s voice or woken to him curled on his bedside table yet to his heart it very much was. It would trip over itself when he was half-asleep and noticed that Wei Wuxian had decided to stay in and nap alongside him while Lan Wangji drifted off; it climbed his throat in the mornings when he woke and realised that Wei Wuxian was peacefully sleeping to the sounds of Lan Wangji getting ready for the day. It ached and burned when he lost a grip of his own fantasies and imagined what life might be like if this could be every evening, every morning.
Lan Wangji had only just begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, he might acclimatize himself to this new change in his life enough that his heart wouldn’t fall out of rhythm at a moment’s notice, when Wei Wuxian had concocted some new scheme with Nie Huaisang. As if the wicker trap incident hadn’t been harrowing enough, this time it seemed that Nie Huaisang had nearly gotten Wei Wuxian trapped and caught in his uncle’s office in the efforts of cheating on the exam . The stress of that day had made him feel like his heart would burst clean from his chest, either in terror or fury. To say he was angry was an understatement. He had been nearly sick with anxiety when an entire day of lessons had passed and Wei Wuxian had not appeared. He had tried to be reasonable, had tried to be calm, had reminded himself that Wei Wuxian had even given notice that he was doing something of the sort, and yet it hadn’t helped as he'd imagined more and more wretched things happening to Wei Wuxian while he had sat meekly and uselessly in lessons.
(He was beginning to accept that his heart would never be allowed to be calm around Wei Wuxian. The borrower would simply always find a new way to tease it.)
Listening to Wei Wuxian's story of that night had been equal parts impressive and beyond exasperating. The fact that Wei Wuxian had done such a thing and treated it like a slightly rowdy night out was undeniably a mark of his own prowess, but Lan Wangji would be much more forgiving if he didn’t seem determined to make Lan Wangji die of stress in the process.
“Tell me next time,” was all he said by the end of it.
“I did!”
He had, but that wasn’t what Lan Wangji had meant at all. Though perhaps this was as much his own fault as Wei Wuxian's. He should have pressed. Instead it seemed he was doomed to fall for the same misstep over and over and over. He didn’t want to tread of Wei Wuxian’s independence and held himself back where perhaps he could have risked an intrusion.
No.
No that wasn’t wholly true. It was a very convenient way of thinking, to think he was simply giving Wei Wuxian his independence, Lan Wangji also knew that wasn’t the whole truth; he wasn’t so noble. He was scared. He was scared of being too much, his feelings too cloying, too suffocating. They were nearly too much for him, what would they be like to Wei Wuxian. He could only envision Wei Wuxian pulling back with disgust, which seemed the natural response to what Lan Wangji was feeling. And so to protect himself from that, he desperately held it all back. He gathered those feelings up, pressed them deep into his chest, and meted out drips only when he thought it safe.
(Like sharing qi. So scared of overwhelming Wei Wuxian, he had fed him only the barest trickle of spiritual power at first, had exercised precise control to ensure his presence wasn’t too much.)
(Which was, of course, an inappropriate metaphor. In that instance, it had been Wei Wuxian who had ultimately overwhelmed Lan Wangji with his qi. It had been Wei Wuxian who had unleashed a tidal wave of spiritual energy, not bothering to restrain himself, not even knowing how. When it came to qi, Lan Wangji now understood they were perfectly matched, and they shared their spiritual power freely and easily. It was simple. A pleasure. It was nothing like the monstrous depths of Lan Wangji’s feelings.)
Regardless of how it was compared though, it was undeniable that by holding back his feelings, he was also neglecting his care for Wei Wuxian. He should have asked more questions the moment he had realised that Nie Huaisang was planning to drag Wei Wuxian into some scheme.
“Tell me fully, in detail, next time,” Lan Wangji correct himself.
“I’m telling you the details now!”
“Before,” Lan Wangji said, pressing his hands against the headache he could feel behind his eyes. “Tell me the details before .”
“I didn’t think you’d approve, Lan Zhan. We were sneaking into your uncle’s office after all… I didn’t want you to feel like you were getting wrapped up in something like that, breaking the rules and all,” said Wei Wuxian, like this was something reasonable.
Maybe it would have been, at the beginning of their acquaintance. Certainly Lan Wangji wouldn’t have allowed for such a plot, especially not if it would mean his own complicity. But if the option was Wei Wuxian throwing himself into danger on his own or Lan Wangji being forced to sit down and consider his own adherence to the rules, he would prefer the latter a hundred times over.
What Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang had done was wrong. This was undeniable and both seemed perfectly aware of it, and had accepted their punishments with minimal complaint. However, it had not actually caused any harm beyond giving Lan Wangji a scare, wearing Wei Wuxian out, and disrespecting his uncle’s authority as their teacher. Those consequences were infinitely smaller than Wei Wuxian potentially being hurt or caught and Lan Wangji ignorant of how to help him.
“Tell me anyway.”
“Lan Zhan! Are you saying you would break the rules for me ?”
Wei Wuxian’s tone was teasing, but Lan Wangji’s wasn’t.
“Next time, swear you will tell me before doing something like this again.”
The teasing in Wei Wuxian’s voice was gone now as well, and he was regarding Lan Wangji with an unreadable look. “Okay, Lan Zhan, I will. Sorry. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep like that, I’d meant to find you right away so you wouldn’t worry.”
“Mm.”
In hindsight, he really should have included the rule about respecting oneself in the list that he had forced Wei Wuxian to copy. But for now, at least, that incident was done with. One more harrowing adventure to a summer that had seemed to consist of very little but strange adventures. Never before had Lan Wangji’s usual routines been so thoroughly disrupted. But he would take this chaos so long as it was accompanied by Wei Wuxian’s laugh over his sedate, comforting existence any day.
Given the choice, he would happily chase the chaos just to ensure he got to continue to experience it with Wei Wuxian.
What did that say about him? It was almost certainly breaking some sort of rule, but he didn’t have it in him right now to reflect on that. Perhaps later. After Wei Wuxian left. There would be time for reflection then, when every moment together wasn’t precious and dwindling.
-
Time was running out. It could be marked by the way the leaves were beginning to change with increased vigour, a few even daring to drop from the trees like sand in an hourglass. Autumn was coming. Rather than think about that though, Wei Wuxian kept up his usual philosophy of staying busy enough not to have time to think about uncomfortable things.
And his days were so fun that it was easy to do. Seriously, he had no idea how he had gotten through the day without Lan Wangji before, because Lan Wangji was the best person in the entire world and he genuinely didn’t seem to mind that Wei Wuxian was going to monopolise absolutely all of his time if he had his way. This attitude had, somehow, only escalated since Lan Wangji had completely swept the rug out from under his feet by showing him an entire house that he had created on his own with the sole recipient being Wei Wuxian .
Who did things like that?
But the point was that now he didn’t even have the excuse of leaving the Jingshi to return to his own den. He still went out borrowing in the evenings after Lan Wangji was asleep, and he visited with Nie Huaisang from time to time, but otherwise he seemed to be attached to Lan Wangji by more than just a tendril of spiritual energy.
Even then, Lan Wangji had begun to join him while visiting with Nie Huaisang. That had begun a couple days after his adventure in Lan Qiren’s office. Despite mercilessly heckling Nie Huaisang for arranging such an over the top scheme for what was certainly going to be a straight forward examination, he kept his word as far as helping the Bean study. It was on the second day of this while they had been going over the history of the major sect’s cultivation philosophies — a subject that flummoxed Wei Wuxian as much as Nie Huaisang — that he realised how much better this would be with Lan Wangji. Between the three of them, they would certainly know everything they needed to for the examination, and Lan Wangji would be able to help fill in the gaps and keep them on task (which, really, was half the battle).
And it would just be more fun. Everything was more fun with Lan Wangji.
Except he was so pointed about leaving Wei Wuxian to visit Nie Huaisang on his own. The two Beans didn’t seem very close, and Wei Wuxian didn’t want to push if Lan Wangji preferred to have this time to himself. He knew so little about friendships, who was he to try to drag two people together who might not want it? What if he caused a fight? What if he made Lan Wangji resent him? What if Lan Wangji had important things to do and coming to help tutor the two of them put him out?
But then he had thought about the way Lan Wangji had said tell me before . And how he had been so upset that Wei Wuxian hadn’t woken him up. And how he had seemed, somehow, just as happy to gift Wei Wuxian his house as Wei Wuxian had been to receive it.
He liked making Lan Wangji happy. He liked drawing those rare smiles or laughs from him.
Could it be that Lan Wangji might get the same sort of happiness in pleasing Wei Wuxian?
Something about that didn’t feel like it lined up but what if he meant it when he said he wanted Wei Wuxian to tell him what he needed? Or even just what he wanted? What if, somehow, it genuinely did please him?
In the end, he asked Nie Huaisang about it while they ate salted nuts and Nie Huaisang avoided the list of yao they were meant to be looking over.
“I think Lan Wangji is a better person to ask than me,” had been his advice so Wei Wuxian had caved.
He asked Lan Wangji to join them studying, had emphasized that he really didn’t have to, it wasn’t a big deal or anything, it was just boring without him and he knew so much and he would definitely be able to help the rather helpless Nie Huaisang better than Wei Wuxian could!
To his surprise, Lan Wangji had agreed without hesitation.
He wasn’t sure if Nie Huaisang was thrilled with the addition, but Wei Wuxian was delighted and Lan Wangji seemed content so that was good enough for him. Especially if it meant squeezing in even more time with Lan Wangji before summer ended. Before autumn arrived.
That meant the main time he spent apart from Lan Wangji was at night after he had gone to sleep, but even his evenings had become a wonderful new treat since moving to his new home. Of course he had always hung around the Jingshi before Lan Wangji went to bed but now he didn’t feel like he was lingering. He could get comfy on the roof of his home or sit on Lan Wangji’s chest in bed or sometimes he would even curl up in his own bed and have a catnap alongside Lan Wangji before going about his nightly activities. In the mornings he didn’t even need to drag himself awake after only a few hours of sleep anymore because he got to come right back to his snug little house and fall asleep in a bed that Lan Wangji had helped stuff full of new bedding and sleep until Lan Wangji gently knocked on the box to wake him for breakfast. The extra sleep it afforded him felt luxurious, as did having Lan Wangji’s voice being the first thing that woke him.
Then they would go to lectures, and he may or may not nap a little bit more. After that, it was whatever suited their moods. They might study with Nie Huaisang, or go to the Library Pavillion where Wei Wuxian might research protection wards or rabbit food or any number of silly interests, or visit the back fields, or go for a walk in the trees, or practise music together, or mess around in the Jingshi.
One afternoon Wei Wuxian had tried his hand at ink painting and was rather pleased with what he could do with the tiny brush Lan Wanghi had made him. He had painted a landscape and the bunnies and the rest of the page had been dedicated to Lan Wangji.
From time to time they would have tea with Lan Xichen, which was still a bit overwhelming but interesting in its own right, and Lan Xichen was nothing if not a pleasant host. Ever since the first time, he had procured cups and bowls that suited Wei Wuxian’s size and he kept the conversation flowing easily.
(“Lan Wangji mentioned that you’re trained in the Six Arts,” Lan Xichen had mentioned during one such visit, which had made Lan Wangji look away from them both, at the admission that he was bragging about Wei Wuxian behind his back.
“That’s right,” Wei Wuxian had said. “Well, the best I could. I’m pretty much self-taught, so I’m not exactly a young lord or anything.”
“I’m sure Wei-gongzi is too humble,” Lan Xichen had assured him with smiling eyes. “But — and excuse me if it's rude but I have to ask — equestrianism would be included, would it not?”
Lan Wangji’s mouth had dipped at the fact his brother would doubt Wei Wuxian’s qualifications, but Wei Wuxian had laughed, easily sharing the humour that came from imagining someone like him on the back of a horse . He would be like a tick trying to cling to its mane!
“Okay, equestrianism might be the wrong term. I've never actually tried to ride a horse, that one might be a bit beyond me.”
“But Wei-gongzi does ride?” Lan Xichen had asked, with honest interest.
Wei Wuxian had just nodded, practically thrumming with his eagerness to see the sect heir’s face at this next admission. “Well, I learnt to ride on a mouse. Now it's mostly rabbits.”
The surprised blink and parting of his lips had been as hilarious and satisfying as Wei Wuxian had hoped. “Rabbits?” Lan Xichen had repeated, a bit weakly, and even Lan Wangji had smirked into his tea at that.)
In short: it was fun. Life was fun. Life was good and full and exciting and comfortable in a way Wei Wuxian hadn’t even realised was possible. He had always assumed he had been pretty happy at Lotus Pier. He'd had his house and Little Apple and his lessons and the disciples and that had seemed good. He had never been idle. But this was something entirely different.
This was warm. This was meals delivered to him by hand and days filled conversation. This was him smiling and laughing and his blood fizzing with an energy he didn’t know how to spend in any way other than climbing all over Lan Wangji and talking his ear off and dragging him into every silly game or experiment or project he could think of. It must be overwhelming to someone like Lan Wangji but Wei Wuxian just couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.
Even though he knew how dangerous it was to get too accustomed to it.
(He had better enjoy it while he could.)
(He had better stop getting used to it.)
-
And just like that, time was up.
They had their last, desperate study session. The next day, they had sat the examination. Nie Huaisang had tried to insist that surely it was only fair that Wei Wuxian spend the lesson on his shoulder this time, since Lan Wangji already knew all the answers so what did he need Wei Wuxian for, but that had been shot down without Lan Wangji needing to voice a single word.
Importantly, they all sat the examination, including Wei Wuxian.
Using the same nervous conviction he’d gathered to ask Lan Wangji to join him and Nie Huaisang while studying, he had managed to talk himself into riding that success and asking Lan Wangji for one more thing.
It felt like an impossible sort of request, and a frivolous, unnecessary one at that, but well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. It never seemed to hurt to ask Lan Wangji something, so he did.
“Hey, Lan Zhan, I was wondering something,” he had said one evening.
“Mm?”
“It’s probably ridiculous, so feel free to ignore it, but it’s just a thought.”
Lan Wangji had said nothing, had just silently cleaned Wangji’s strings as he’d waited.
“You know how the examination is coming up? And, well, I’ve attended all the lectures. And all the guest disciples are supposed to take it to show what they’ve learnt. And I’m one of the guest disciples and I’ve been studying and everything. I sort of… was wondering if there was a way I could try taking it too? I realise it’s not like I can run around on a desk where everyone can see me — and it’s not like it matters since no one even knows I’m attending the lectures and it won’t affect anything but, y’know. It might be fun…”
Lan Wangji had sat in silence, and it had been a gruelling exercise in patience to wait for Lan Wangji to finish thinking and tidying away his guqin.
“Wei Ying should get to sit the examination if he wants. I think Xiongzhang may be able to help.”
And he had. That was the truly unbelievable thing. For someone who was used to doing everything on his own, to see a task that had taken two entirely different people to orchestrate on his behalf was… overwhelming. But Lan Wangji had explained the problem and his suggested solution to Lan Xichen, who had been more than happy to help. Lan Xichen, who already seemed so busy, had gone to Lan Qiren and asked for a copy of the examination so he could be familiar with what this year’s guest disciples would be tested on. Lan Qiren had been happy to provide it, and Lan Xichen had then taken the time to meticulously copy each and every question onto tiny sheets of paper with the finest hand Wei Wuxian had ever seen written by a Bean.
Which mean while the rest of the class wrote in silence, with Lan Wangji quiet and diligent above him, and Nie Huaisang looking like a man staring into a noose next to him, Wei Wuxian had sat hidden beneath the desk on Lan Wangji’s lap and had carefully used his tiny brush to answer each and every question. His examination had taken quite a few more sheets of paper than the standard version, but Lan Wangji had ensured his sleeves were arranged on his lap so Wei Wuxian could stash his completed sheets in there, hidden out of sight.
They had all passed. When the grades had been posted on the wall, Lan Wangji had been, unsurprisingly, the top student but that went without saying and none of the guest disciples had even bothered to factor him into their discussions of merit. Lan Xichen had kindly marked Wei Wuxian’s exam privately and Wei Wuxian was very smug in the knowledge that, had his name been included on the assessment sheet, he would have stolen second place tidily. Even Nie Huaisang had managed to scrape through and he had thrown himself around Lan Wangji’s neck in such a display of naked gratitude that it seemed to unnerve Lan Wangji as much as it did the other disciples who saw it.
“Da-ge really would have killed me if I had failed for a third time, you saved my life! Lan-xiong, Wei-xiong, thank you so much! He never would have let me leave my room again, he would have made me study day and night, you’re the best friends anyone could ask for, I owe you both!” he had cried against Lan Wangji’s shoulder.
Lan Wangji had stood stiff with silent horror as he waited for the hysterics to stop. Wei Wuxian had just laughed at Lan Wangji’s discomfort and had crept from Lan Wangji’s shoulder to Nie Huaisang’s, where he could pat the Bean’s cheek consolingly.
After that, all that was left was wrapping up loose ends and the official closing ceremonies.
Everyone would be returning to their own home sects in three days. That gave two days for leisure, to pack, and to resolve any outstanding work or punishments as needed. The next day they would be joined by sect representatives coming to collect their charges, and include a final banquet dinner. The last day would start with a larger and more lavish breakfast than was normally seen in the Cloud Recesses, as a sendoff for all the guests that would be leaving that morning to make the long trips back to their home sects. By the evening almost everyone would be gone.
This was normally one of Lan Wangji’s favourite times. Whenever the Cloud Recesses hosted guest lectures the compound became loud and crowded and unruly. He felt foreign in his own home. The first day after they concluded, the silence pressed in like a welcoming blanket and Lan Wangji felt like he could breathe wholly for the first time in months.
Not this time. The three days had a vice grip around his throat and he felt like he would never get enough air when the weight of three days was crushing it all out of him.
“Too bad your uncle doesn’t know about me… I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had. Like how he would have reacted to knowing the student with the second best standing was also the one who suggested harnessing resentful energy,” said Wei Wuxian cheerfully.
“If Uncle knew about you, Wei Ying would have been sent home before the lectures ended,” Lan Wangji said with confidence. There was simply no world in which Wei Wuxian’s unorthodox thinking and outspokenness would have meshed well with his uncle’s disciplined nature and staunch respect for traditions. Which was to say nothing of the office break-in.
“Hey! You better have said that only because all the Jiang disciples got sent home and not because of me personally!”
Lan Wangji turned to look at the tiny cultivator on his shoulder as he slid the Jingshi door shut behind them, giving him the most pointed look he could. Wei Wuxian squawked in outrage but Lan Wangji knew he was correct. After a whole summer of listening to Wei Wuxian’s unrestrained, wild, and occasionally heretical ideas he had no doubt that his uncle would have lost his patience long ago. He was at peace with this, and indeed couldn’t help but see the humour in it when Wei Wuxian brought it up with a tone like that.
If nothing else, Wei Wuxian would have been copying a lot of rules.
He wondered if they would have still been friends, in this hypothetical world where Wei Wuxian had choices about with whom he spent his time. In a world where he didn’t quite literally get himself entangled in Lan Wangji’s life from the moment they met.
He wasn’t sure he could imagine that world, or that he wanted to. But perhaps in that world, where Wei Wuxian was known, Lan Wangji would at least be able to make excuses to visit him at Lotus Pier after the summer ended.
“Well, we have an entire afternoon free, and the next day. Hm, do you think you can smuggle me in for the celebratory banquet? Or the breakfast? I know you Lans don’t talk while you eat, but I bet if I stayed hidden on your shoulder I could make you crack.”
Wei Wuxian’s chatter was even more frenzied than usual it seemed.
Perhaps he was also feeling the weight of the three days.
There was another weight that was pressing against Lan Wangji’s mind as well though. This one came with the tinge of guilt and anticipation. It was a weight that sat hidden in his sleeve, as it had for days. The fact that he hadn’t yet given it to Wei Wuxian was, perhaps, already unforgivable. But there had always been a reason not to. Or at least an excuse. He had wanted to give Wei Wuxian time to adjust to his new home, and to feel more comfortable with the idea of Lan Wangji giving him things. He hadn’t wanted him to feel overwhelmed or indebted.
And then, once Wei Wuxian had started to actually ask him for things, in a way that had made Lan Wangji’s heart stutter and ache, other things had come up, new excuses when that one was no longer viable.
He couldn’t do after learning about Wei Wuxian’s plot with Nie Huaisang, because if he was already busy planning things Lan Wangji wouldn’t want to throw in another complication. And then after Wei Wuxian had been missing and Lan Wangji had been capable of doing nothing but interrogating Nie Huaisang after class as he feared the worst. And once Wei Wuxian had turned up, he couldn’t do it then because the borrower had looked so wrung out already. And then they started spending time with Nie Huaisang, and obviously he couldn’t do anything with another person hanging around, especially not a person like Nie Huaisang to whom privacy was a thing that happened to other people. And it had to be private, Lan Wangji felt that with utmost certainty, so any time they were in the library or at the Hanshi was obviously no good. And it didn’t seem right to do it in the evening when they were both unwinding, and the mornings were too busy getting ready for class and Wei Wuxian was hardly properly awake until halfway into lessons…
There had been a hundred excuses, and the truly frustrating part was that Lan Wangji knew they were excuses. Because in truth, he hadn’t wanted to think about what this gift heralded, the ultimate finale that it marked, like curtains cutting across a stage. He hadn’t wanted Wei Ying’s departure to feel any nearer than it already did.
(A comb passed from one hand to another, the tragedy of an unrealised love that only served to amuse or sadden an audience during the final act of a play. Impossible in anything but fantasy, a delusion for Lan Wangji alone.)
And now, there was simply no more time.
“Wei Ying can come to the banquet if he likes. I do not think you would enjoy it.”
“Well, if it’s with you it won’t be so bad,” said Wei Wuxian blithely, like this didn’t do horrible things to Lan Wangji’s heart. “Hey, do you want to see the new idea I had for a qiankun pouch? I was looking at that treatise on culturally relevant cultivation items you found for me in the Library Pavillion and it had some great ideas in it.”
Lan Wangji could not say he particularly wanted to see this at all, and not just because Wei Wuxian’s qiankun research tended to be much more harrowing than things like rabbit taming or protection charm research. It was yet another very practical and physical reminder of the end of the summer.
Ever since the storm, Wei Wuxian had taken a renewed interest in reverse engineering a proper qiankun pouch because both of the ones he had come with had disappeared in the storm. If he wanted to bring anything back to Lotus Pier with him, he would need to make new ones and he was determined that if he was making a new one it should be a proper one, not a repeat of the half-baked ones with which he had initially come.
Still, if it was Wei Wuxian asking, Lan Wangji would do it. And it at least gave him some time to think about how to present his final gift to Wei Wuxian.
While Wei Wuxian collected some supplies from his box-house, Lan Wangji gathered the bigger items that were stored with his own materials and began arranging them neatly on the table for Wei Wuxian, a familiar habit by this point. Wei Wuxian scaled the table easily, swinging up the decorative carvings in the legs, and set his own work down next to the supplies Lan Wangji had brought over, including the pouches he had already sewn in preparation of this. Lan Wangji could see the glimmer of the cinnabar-coated threads he had used on these ones.
“See,” he explained pointing at them, “I think maybe my problem is that I haven’t found a way to maintain strong enough spiritual corridors for the energy to travel. Something like a qiankun pouch has to have a pretty constant flow of energy or else the space inside it would probably just collapse, right? That’s kinda what’s been happening to my other experiments… Remember the regurgitating one? So I’m thinking if I use actual cinnabar to weave it together, I might be able to trick the spiritual power I put into the talisman into treating it the same way as a body’s meridians and just keep cycling the power… what do you think? Or does that sound crazy?”
“It sounds sensible,” said Lan Wangji, too lost in his own thoughts to betray the trepidation he might otherwise be feeling.
“I thought so,” Wei Wuxian agreed, picking up his brush.
Lan Wangji obligingly took up an ink stick and began grinding it for Wei Wuxian. Long ago Wei Wuxian had objected that he could crush his own ink but Lan Wangji could see that grinding ink and water at such a small scale was challenging — even just the physics of the water behaved differently at that size and it made it difficult to produce a smooth ink which was absolutely critical for talismanic work. So Lan Wangji did it. He liked to. It was meditative. And it gave Wei Wuxian time to excitedly share his plans while Lan Wangji was preparing the ink. A little bubble of time during which Wei Wuxian’s attention was entirely his.
(He really was a covetous creature, he was learning. He would not have considered that about himself before. But the fact that Wei Wuxian no longer objected to him grinding ink, and would instead just grin appreciatively at him when he did so — it was something Lan Wangji wanted to hoard all to himself. One time, during their study sessions, Nie Huaisang had been grinding ink for all three of them and Lan Wangji had been struck so unexpectedly and so violently with jealousy over this that he had been forced to clench his fists in his laps and take a moment to school himself. It was not one of his prouder moments.)
Finally the ink was prepared and Wei Wuxian’s chatter had briefly paused as he got lost in his own work, attention entirely drawn to the bag.
Lan Wangji had nothing to do but focus on the little box that was once again hidden in his sleeve.
“The guest disciples will be returning home in three days,” Lan Wangji finally said.
“Hm?” said Wei Wuxian, not looking up from where he was scrutinising the array he was drawing beneath the bag, comparing it to the one in the notes from which he was working. “Oh, yeah, ha, Lan Zhan you didn’t think I’d forgotten already, did you? When we had just been talking about the banquet? You know, I do listen to your uncle sometimes — just not when he’s saying boring stuff. Say, what happens after that, do you have lessons you normally attend? You must have normal swordwork lessons, when you’re not stuck with guest disciples. I’ve hardly had a chance to see what your sword style’s like and honestly that’s just a shame, I really want to see what you’re like in a proper lesson.”
It was said so offhandedly, Wei Wuxian clearly distracted by his work, but it made Lan Wangji imagine that too. Imagine returning to his usual lessons now that his time wasn’t dictated by the lectures, imagine Wei Wuxian with him just as he always was, but this time studying Lan-style meditation, night-hunting methods, sword forms…
Sword forms.
“It is the end of the lectures,” Lan Wangji said carefully. “Wei Ying will not be able to see my regular lessons — you said you would like to return to Lotus Pier once everything is over.”
Wei Wuxian’s brush paused as he blinked up at Lan Wangji, looking briefly confused before his face flushed red. “Oh— yeah, no, I know that Lan Zhan, yeah, obviously. I mean, I know it’s not like I’ll see your normal lessons or anything, I was just thinking— well, you know me, I talk before my brain actually has a chance to catch up. The disciples are going home, obviously. I’m a guest disciple, so obviously I’m going back. Little Apple’s probably been missing me, and who knows what state she’s left the place.”
Before either could get lost in potential melancholy though, the array chose that moment to activate. And it activated with gusto.
Rather than simply expanding the interior of the bag as Wei Wuxian had been hoping, the whole thing suddenly ballooned to monstrous size, the sheer force of it flinging Wei Wuxian clean off the table with a yelp.
Lan Wangji sprang to his feet.
“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” said Wei Wuxian, stumbling back to his feet even as Lan Wangji crossed the room in two quick strides to check on him. “How’s the bag?”
Lan Wangji gave him a decidedly unimpressed look but carefully plucked the bag from the array. This proved, at least, that it was not as horrendously big as it had appeared when it had expanded at such a violent speed in every direction; instead it was only slightly larger than what Lan Wangji would consider a normal, human-sized qiankun pouch. A qiankun sack, if you will. As he held it though, he realised what was feeling amiss about it.
He pulled it open and frowned at Wei Wuxian.
“You had things in here?”
“Uhh… I don’t think so?” said Wei Wuxian. Then he paused to think. “Um. I might have been using it as a normal bag while I was out borrowing last night now that I think about it… I didn’t really have anything else to use and it was pretty convenient… Uh, I may, possibly, have forgotten to empty it?”
Lan Wangji reached into the bag and pulled out what was probably the world’s largest button. This is placed aside as he shoved his arm shoulder deep into the sack and pulled out a smooth stone now the size of a small boulder and a shell bead that was heavy enough to be a pickling weight. His expression didn’t change, but Wei Wuxian felt it was decidedly unimpressed.
“Oh, yeah. Well, nothing besides that. I think.”
Before Lan Wangji could remark on this, the bag, as suddenly as it had grown, suddenly snapped back to its original size with a pop of displaced air. He had to tug to get it off his finger tips. The button, stone, and bead shrunk with equal speed and were spinning faintly on the table.
“Whoops!” said Wei Wuxian faintly. “...I wonder why it did that ? Or why it shrank back down so suddenly… maybe the size change distorted the talisman and broke its connection? Lift me up, Lan Zhan, I want to have a look.”
Lan Wangji did as requested; Wei Wuxian’s energy was reaching frenzied peaks.
“Huh… no the design actually looks fine… the characters really must have scaled perfectly, big and small. That’s impressive, right? Especially since it’s made of so many individual threads that would have all had to scale in time with each other to keep the bag’s shape and tension… maybe it shrank because it lost contact with its energy source? But I really thought the cinnabar stitching would help maintain an energy flow… unless it’s uneven? Hm, I wonder if the energy dispersion talisman you used on my door would help with that…”
Lan Wangji just sat and listened as Wei Wuxian paced wildly, spinning the bag in his hands and looking everywhere but at Lan Wangji. The box pressed against Lan Wangji’s arm and he really had meant to build up to this conversation, to things ending and how he wanted his farewells to go, but he couldn’t even get a word in edgewise now, not with Wei Wuxian so worked up.
“Ah, and that’s not even accounting for why it got big like that in the first place! See, it’s like I’ve been saying Lan Zhan, I’ve just really got to get this figured out before I leave! Wouldn’t it be such a pain to have to pack all my stuff back to Lotus Pier without a qiankun pouch? And how could I bring all my notes back with me? Not to mention all the great things you’ve made me for my home, I wouldn’t want to leave it all behind! And I’ll definitely never get this bag-thing figured out without your library! I’ll definitely become a vengeful ghost with unfinished business if I die without ever solving this problem!”
His words were coming out in a rush as he fidgeted with the bag, and suddenly Lan Wangji was concerned that this was a Wei Wuxian who was seconds from throwing himself back into his project, unlikely to emerge again. That he was about to work madly for the next three days, feverous to meet the time limit. And as much as Wei Wuxian’s companionable industry was normally a calming thing to have in the Jingshi with him, Lan Wangji could suddenly perfectly see the way he would use Wei Wuxian’s distraction to never quite find the time to give him his final gift, would somehow shy away from it, and would end up hating himself after time had truly run out.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Stop,” he said.
Wei Wuxian did. His mouth snapped shut, and he looked away as if suddenly embarrassed.
“Sorry, Lan Zhan,” he squeaked. “I got carried away.”
“It’s not that. I have something to give you.”
-
Another gift? Wei Wuxian really was going to be spoiled at this rate.
It almost took the sting out of Lan Wangji’s rejection. He had been approaching the matter as carefully as he could, but he had known his mouth had started to run away from him the closer to the heart of things he had gotten. Because the thing was… he just really didn’t want to leave. He wanted to cling to any excuse to stay, even just a little bit longer. Waiting until the end of the lecture season had been an excellent excuse, but back then it had felt so far off. Now, with only three days left, it was inadequate. But staying long enough to figure out his qiankun pouch problem… well, that was doable right? It made sense? Sure, he could have always made more like his old ones, they obviously worked just fine, and there was no reason to bring any of the furniture home with him because he had everything he needed back in his parent’s house, but still. It wouldn’t have been forever. Just long enough. And maybe Wei Wuxian could have stretched it out even a little longer than that, if need be, and…
And really, Lan Wangji had been right to cut him off. He had been going overboard. Obviously. Of course. Haha. It’s not like anyone wanted to actually share their rooms indefinitely, right? Lan Wangji had been a good host and a good friend but really, Wei Wuxian was being pushy now. Lan Wangji had even said he didn’t care for the guest lectures! He was probably looking forward to a break! Especially given that Wei Wuxian kept doing strange things with talismans in his house!
But if Lan Wangji was giving him something… well, that probably meant he wasn’t actually sick of Wei Wuxian or angry or anything, so that was good. He hadn’t thought he was, but Lan Wangji could be hard to read, and if he was just trying to be polite or dutiful…
Nope! Don’t think about that! Be grateful that Lan Wangji had stopped him before he had really put his foot in his mouth! Focus on what fun thing Lan Wangji was about to give him! Hopefully something he could bring back to Lotus Pier, as a memento!
So he watched with curiosity as Lan Wangji reached into his sleeve and pulled out a box. A sturdy wooden one, bound with twine. It had some sort of maker's mark stamped on one corner, but Wei Wuxian wasn’t familiar with it. Lan Wangji placed it on the table near Wei Wuxian’s feet and undid the twine. Once open, he removed from within it an even smaller box that had been nestled delicately among wood shavings. This box, besides for being comically small, at least in Lan Wangji’s hands, was also incredibly handsome. While the outer one had been practical, this one bore the air of something important and treasured.
Held between his fingers with the utmost delicacy, this smaller box was proffered to Wei Wuxian who was rather startled by the weight when he took it. In Wei Wuxian’s hands, it was long and slender — definitely not small!
“Lan Zhan, what in the world have you gotten me?” he asked, perplexed.
The fact that he had been gifted an entire room all to himself within the Jingshi had really been overwhelming enough, but at least it had made some sense: it had been needed and practical and made of borrowed things, something made with Lan Wangji’s own hands. It was incredibly touching but it made sense within the scope of Wei Wuxian’s world.
This… seemed different. The outer box had looked professional, and the inner box, though more decorative, had a similar maker’s mark and was obviously a matching set. Clearly procured at the same time, made by the same hand.
Had Wei Wuxian ever owned a matching set of anything?
Not helping with Wei Wuxian’s curiosity at all, Lan Wangji said nothing and just watched.
So Wei Wuxian was forced to put the box down and, with his heart in his throat, carefully unbound it and pulled its lid off.
When he saw what was inside, Wei Wuxian forgot how to breathe entirely.
It was a sword.
Not a pin. It was a proper cultivator’s sword. It was in an elegant black sheath, with the finest of gold filigree work decorating the exterior and a red tassel acting as a single bright spot of colour. He barely dared touch it.
“This is for me?” he said and his voice was doing things that he definitely hadn’t given it permission to do.
“If Wei Ying likes it.”
“If I— Lan Zhan!”
And then he couldn’t wait anymore, he had to touch it, had to hold it, and to confirm that it was real .
It fit his hands perfectly, and it thrummed with spiritual power. This wasn’t some toy, not a silly decoration or mockery of a cultivator’s sword. This was a true spiritual weapon and it felt like it had been waiting to be held in Wei Wuxian’s hands. He could barely wait to draw it, and the slide of metal from the sheath was exactly as satisfying as he had always imagined it would be.
He thought, for a moment, that he might start crying as he admired the glint of light along the metal of the blade — at least until he saw what was engraved on it.
He was spared from crying by nearly choking on laughter.
“Lan Zhan, what’s written on here?” he gasped.
Lan Wangji’s brow creased in a frown, but even from down on the table Wei Wuxian could see the way his ears were going pink.
“Suibian. It is the name that Wei Ying picked for his sword.”
Wei Wuxian wanted to argue that he had absolutely not decided to call his sword “Whatever”… except then a very distant conversation was dredged back up in his mind. A conversation he had not taken remotely seriously and which, at the time, had stung a little because, well, that was a question that would never amount to anything, wasn’t it? Who named a pin?
Wei Wuxian laughed. He laughed and laughed until he had to sit down but even then he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the sword.
“You’ve been planning this for that long, Lan Zhan? Really? Aiyah, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything, you’re too sneaky!”
“Commissioning a spiritual sword takes time, and this one came with uncommon complications. It wouldn’t do for it not to have been ready before Wei Ying left.”
“A sword. You got me an actual cultivator’s sword.” It wasn’t something made by Wei Wuxian’s hands. It wasn’t even made by his parents’ hands or by Lan Wangji’s. It was something so fine, so special, that it had been designed and crafted by someone Wei Wuxian had never even laid eyes on and something about that was like magic , a wonder that Wei Wuxian could hardly conceptualise. Lan Wangji had wanted him to have something so much he had stretched his influence across miles and towns and craftsmen to have something special created for him, that neither of them could ever hope to accomplish on their own.
“Wei Ying is a cultivator. He deserves a proper sword.”
“I can’t believe I don’t even have time to use it now,” said Wei Wuxian, and suddenly the laughter had tipped dangerously back towards tears. “I want to practise proper sword forms with you, Lan Zhan. I want to spar. I want you to teach me how to fly — I want to fly with you! This is so unfair. I can’t believe I have to leave so soon.”
Lan Wangji hadn’t considered it like that. This whole time, the sword had marked finality to him, the ending of something that he didn’t want to give up, something he could never hope to have. He had never considered how it might be the same as his guqin and Wei Wuxian’s flute — not a singular ending point but an ongoing duet. Something to be shared. Not something cut down in its prime but an opportunity for growth.
That thought swelled like the qiankun pouch had, sudden and expansive and all consuming.
“Is that what Wei Ying wants?”
Wei Wuxian stared up at him. His eyes seemed too big and too wet for his small face.
“If you don’t want to leave yet,” Lan Wangji repeated, carefully, “then tell me.”
The tears finally broke and there was no holding back the horrible, choking longing in his throat. With no way to actually throw his arms around Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian did the next best thing and clung to his sword all the tighter. “I don’t want to go,” he cried. “I want to stay!”
Lan Wangji just nodded.
He reached out and took Wei Wuxian in his palms and brought his hands to his chest. It was like trying to hug a mountain, but at least Wei Wuxian could thrust his face against Lan Wangji’s soft robes the same way he could against the rabbits’ fur. At least this way he could feel the warmth and the steady breath and sink his fingers into the silk of his robes and hang on for dear life.
(Borrowers had very strong hands. When they held onto something, it was very hard to make them let go if they didn’t want to.)
“I want to stay with you! I really, really want to stay here, Lan Zhan! I want this to be my home.”
“I want Wei Ying to stay too,” said Lan Wangji, and it rumbled through his chest like the heavens themselves were making a solemn oath.
And somehow, just like that, it was decided. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The horrible weight of three days was swept aside as if it were nothing, a trivial thing, and an undefined eternity spread before them. Wei Wuxian did not want to leave. Lan Wangji did not want him to go. How could it be any more simple than that? How could it have taken so long for either to say?
They would have time to improve Wei Wuxian’s new home. They could continue to work with the rabbits and experiment with qiankun pouches. They could train with their swords together, and learn how two such disparate styles could be woven together. They had time.
Suddenly, they had all the time they could possibly want, and in that glorious moment it truly felt like there could be nothing that could possibly put an end to that sort of happiness. Wei Wuxian had asked for a home, and Lan Wangji got to revel in his ability to give Wei Wuxian exactly what he wanted.
-
(There were, of course, always endings. Their mistake had been in assuming an end when it was only an intermission. Other forces were at work, other actors were upon the stage, but they held no interest to two young cultivators who were learning that it was alright to simply be together.)
(The important thing, now, was that the curtains were not closing on a tragedy. Two people, together, had asked and agreed that there should be a second act to their story.)
(What that act would hold was not, in this moment, important.)
-