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Lan Zhan wakes to cold and emptiness.
It is a familiar feeling, yet it is sharper than usual. He has awoken like this many times over the years – dreams of Wei Ying so real they linger into wakefulness, stroking him gently with empty promises of what could have been.
But this time it had not been a dream. Wei Ying had really returned. Hadn’t he? Yes, of course, Wangji assures himself. It has been weeks – not some brief fever dream – so many things have happened, all of them detailed and tangible. The mind could not concoct something so complex. Could it?
The lack of another body in his bed suggests otherwise.
The sheets are cold, holding no residual warmth as one might expect, had someone just left – but the fine cotton cools quickly in the mountain air here. They are also barely rumpled – although there are some wrinkles on the other side of the bed, there are none on the pillow. But Wei Ying always sleeps so close to him – on top of him if he can possibly manage it, as if he has longed for their closeness as much as Lan Zhan has.
There is a long hair on the sleeve of Lan Zhan’s under shirt. Dark against the white, but not quite pure black as his own, and with a gentle wave to it – where as his own hair is dead straight. He clings to that hair – that one tiny piece of tangible evidence that his Wei Ying is real, that he had really been here.
But if he had been here, where is he now?
Wei Ying never wakes before he does, and usually stays in bed for as long as he can possibly defer, which is a long time because Lan Zhan will give Wei Ying whatever he wants. If the memories are real, why is he not still sleeping soundly, pressed to his side, drooling on his chest, bed mussed hair tickling his neck?
Lan Zhan then does one of the least dignified things he has ever done (excluding some of the things he has done to Wei Ying these past weeks;) he presses his face into the sheets and inhales deeply. To his relief they smell faintly of sweat, sex, and soap – just as they should, as they had bathed after Lan Zhan thoroughly fucked his Wei Ying last night. The memory of being squeezed tight, as his lover pleaded for mercy with a teasing glint in his eye, reassures him further, and his shoulders relax a little.
He can still feel it too – his soft dick twitching with a lingering soreness. Everyday means everyday, he had told Wei Ying stoically, and he fully intends to hold to that promise, though it is not only Wei Ying’s body that experiences the consequences of that vow. Granted, Wei Ying suffers the most (a suffering which he very obviously delights in;) but Lan Zhan’s body is not, in fact, made of jade. He is flesh and blood, and the roughness of their lovemaking is for his benefit too – so that he can feel everything both during and after – so that he knows it is real.
The skin on his back, too, is a little sore, where Wei Ying had dug his fingers into the scars there, unable to moderate the strength of his grip while he was being pounded relentlessly. And his neck – Wangji’s fingers rise to hover over the delicate skin above his collar bone – Wei Ying had marked him there, hadn’t he? Sucking bruises into his skin in a replica of Lan Zhan’s possessive treatment of his lover.
Holding onto these small pieces of evidence, Lan Zhan slides out of bed and begins to dress for the day. He skips his meditation – unwise perhaps, but there is no way he can relax until he has seen Wei Ying in the flesh – then selects his most simple robes. He doesn’t dare to look in the small bronze mirror which rests upon a side table, though he longs to see the mark on his neck, which he hopes is really there – but what if it isn’t? Instead he quickly straightens his forehead ribbon, and smooths his hair by touch, fixing it in a simple half top-knot and not even considering affixing the guan with its numerous pins.
He refuses, too, to search the Jingshi for signs of Wei Ying. He will not open the chest where Wei Ying stuffs his meagre belongings – still reluctant to encroach, not yet believing that Lan Zhan is unbothered by his clutter. Not yet accepting that this space belongs to him also. Wangji will have to rectify that, if… If he is…
Wei Ying must have had trouble sleeping. This is the theory he is clinging to. Unable to sleep he had risen, and gone for a wander about the Cloud Recesses, perhaps visited the bunnies and Little Apple, or taken a jug of Emperor’s Smile to drink on a rooftop somewhere. Lan Zhan will find him, and prove to his fearful heart that Wei Ying is here. He is real. He is… alive.
But there is another corner of his mind which is already preparing him for the worst. Twice before, during those long, cold years following the siege of the burial mounds, Wangji had woken from dreams which for once were not filled with Wei Ying’s death, but rather him being alive. Dreams in which Wei Ying had accepted his offer to return to Gusu with him, where Lan Zhan was able to heal him and protect him, and they lived happily together. Twice he had been found by Xichen, wandering the Cloud Recesses; distraught, searching for a dead man along the paths leading to the cold pond or the mountains, on a cold misty morning.
Lan Zhan needs to be ready, that part of his mind says, for when he realises that Wei Ying is still dead, because each time that realisation hits, he breaks. Each time it is like watching Wei Ying die all over again.
But this is not like that, another part of his mind assures him. This time it is different. Wei Ying really is here. The memories are more complex, the time spent together longer, the events imperfect and nuanced. It is not some perfect dream, not a simple happily ever after. There had been pain and struggle, and uncertainty.
His feet carry him along well worn paths, eyes sharp and searching; every inch, every movement, desperately seeking that flash of red. Others are beginning to wake and move about the complex; disciples going about their morning chores before the start of lessons. He sees Sizhui, who smiles and hurries over, then frowns slightly – he must look a mess.
‘A-diē,’ the young man murmurs, using the term he only ever uses when they are alone. ‘Are you alright?’
Lan Zhan opens his mouth to ask if he has seen Wei Ying, but that corner of his mind which is preparing him for the worst eventuality stops the words. Because what if A-Yuan just looks at him in confusion at the name?
‘I am fine, A-Yuan.’ It is not entirely a lie, he is fine – physically. ‘A little tired,’ he adds. It is a reassurance for the boy, but also true.
‘Shall I fetch you some breakfast?’ Sizhui asks, as Lan Jingyi waves at them from further down, hurrying, but not quite running towards them. That boy is so much like Wei Ying – or perhaps how Wei Ying would have been if raised a Lan.
‘No, I will go,’ Lan Zhan states, eager to continue his search.
‘Hanguang-Jun.’ Sizhui bows respectfully, but with a small affectionate smile which warms Lan Zhan’s heart a little. He nods to his son, and turns to leave before Lan Jingyi can reach them. Much as he loves that child, almost like another son, he does not have the mental and emotional resources to deal with him this morning.
The kitchens, though, could be a good place to look next, he decides. Jingyi is speaking animatedly with Sizhui, who gently chastises his friend as Lan Zhan swiftly retreats. He can hear the tones of their voices but not the words; they are having a minor disagreement, but he trusts them to solve it amicably.
The paths outside the kitchens are busier, with disciples coming and going with food trays for elders and seniors of the clan. It might not be the obvious place to look – Wei Ying has not been eating terribly well, despite the copious amounts of chilli oil he gets through. In fact, Wei Ying has never eaten terribly well, to Lan Zhan’s knowledge. He snacks. He eats lotus seeds, and candied hawthorn, and baozi from food stalls, but rarely finishes a full meal. He has been getting better though, under Lan Zhan’s persistent encouragement. So he can imagine Wei Ying popping into the kitchens for a morning snack – especially if he has been up for half the night.
It is as he crosses the small courtyard to the kitchen building, and nears the doors – wide open to let out the smoke and steam from cooking – his heart begins to race. Because there is a voice. And then a laugh which grips his insides with furious, desperate hope.
And then there he is – leaning nonchalantly against the wooden counter, just inside the doors. Black robes less of a contrast against the dark colours of the kitchens than the white of the Jingshi; red ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze which flows in and out of the kitchen, bringing with it the homely scent of freshly steamed rice.
‘Lan Zhan!’ Wei Ying exclaims with that delighted smile. A smile which Lan Zhan thinks is worth a thousand deaths. But then it falters into a pout. ‘Ah, Lan Zhan, I was going to bring you breakfast, but you have ruined my surprise,’ Wei Ying complains.
‘Hanguang-Jun.’ The disciple next to Wei Ying bows deeply.
‘Ah, but it is my fault,’ Wei Ying continues. ‘I got distracted talking to Lan Chen here about my latest talisman, and I didn’t realise the time. Of course you are up and you have had to come looking for your food yourself. Aiya, I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.’
‘My apologies, Hunguang-Jun,’ Lan Chen says, bowing again. ‘I was asking Wei gonzi too many questions, and did not consider that I might be disrupting your day.’
Lan Zhan cannot bring himself to respond. It is all he can do to remain standing, and keep his expression impassive, as all of the fears he has been holding back since he awoke begin to flow out of him. Wei Ying really is here, he really is alive. It was not a dream. His grip tightens around Bichen and his jaw locks tight as he fights back tears of relief.
Wei Ying must detect something – he is the only person besides Xichen who can see past Wangji’s placid mask to the tumultuous emotions beneath – because he moves quickly, picking up the tray beside him, and sending Lan Chen off with a few brief words that Lan Zhan barely registers.
He is here, he is alive.
‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Ying’s voice gently prompts him. ‘Let’s go.’
Lan Zhan manages the barest nod and turns slowly to go back the way he has come, but his eyes cannot tear themselves from Wei Ying’s form, and his feet feel as though they are filled with lead.
‘Ah, Lan Zhan,’ Wei Ying whispers, managing to balance the tray in one hand, so that he can link his other in the crook of Lan Zhan’s arm. ‘Did I worry you? I promise I was not planning my escape! Hahaha! I had trouble sleeping, so I got up early – you look so cute when you are asleep Lan Zhan, did you know that? And I wanted to bring you breakfast for when you got up, but then I got talking to Lan Chen – she’s a very smart student Lan Zhan, I hope you give her good grades. But oh, I messed up your surprise and made you worry about me again. This one might need Hunguang-Jun to punish him for being so bad.’
Wei Ying giggles, and continues to chatter on as he guides Lan Zhan back through the courtyards and paths towards the Jingshi, all the while balancing the tray in one hand, and hanging from Lan Zhan’s arm in his usual way with the other. When the path narrows, they are forced to walk single file, but Wei Ying walks ahead and slides his hand down Lan Zhan’s arm to grip his hand tightly instead, never breaking their contact for a second.
The whole walk down, Lan Zhan doesn’t say a word or even let his expression slip. His legs move in a relatively normal way, though they feel numb, as if he is unattached from his body.
~
Once back inside the Jingshi, Wei Ying places the food tray down on the table, then kneels down next to Lan Zhan, as close as he can, even shuffling his cushion over to the corner of the table. Then he watches with mild alarm as the stoic expression slides from Lan Zhan’s beautiful face and tears begin to stream down his perfect cheeks.
‘Lan Zhan, ah Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?’ Wei Ying tries to brush the tears away, but they just soak into his sleeves, and keep coming. Lan Zhan’s pink lips are trembling, his golden eyes still fixed intently on Wei Ying.
‘Wei Ying…’ he manages to croak from his tense throat.
‘Lan Zhan, you silly fuddy duddy. What is this? Did I break my Hanguang-Jun? Tell me what has got my Lan Zhan so upset?’ Wei Ying is talking nonsense really, as he continues to pet Lan Zhan’s face and head, brushing away stray strands of hair. ‘Eh, Lan Zhan, I never knew but you look so cute when you’re crying,’ he smiles. ‘Come on, tell me what this one has done, and then you can make me so very sorry for my bad behaviour. Would you like to tie me up again? I’m still sore from last night you know, but if I deserve to be punished again then I suppose I will have to find a way to endure it.’ He teases and cajoles, whilst patting the tears from Lan Zhan’s face, trying to provoke any other reaction than the awful, heartbreaking sadness on his love’s face.
‘Wei Ying… Wei Ying is alive…’ Lan Zhan barely mutters.
‘Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Of course I am, you silly. Is that what this is? Did I scare you when I wasn’t here this morning?’ Wei Ying realises how that could have seemed to Lan Zhan – since their first lovemaking, Wei Ying has always woken after Lan Zhan, usually stirring when Lan Zhan carefully extracts himself from under Wei Ying’s body. Then he will fall asleep again until Lan Zhan has completed all his morning routines; bathing, and meditating, and dressing in his layers upon layers of robes.
Most mornings Wei Ying is vaguely aware of Lan Zhan’s movements around the Jingshi, and it is comforting hearing those muffled morning sounds, knowing Lan Zhan is right there, as he always is right there, close to him these days, always attentive to Wei Ying’s needs. He had wanted to repay that favour, to give Lan Zhan that feeling of being cared for, but he has messed it up.
One of Lan Zhan’s hands is fisted in the front of his own robes, over the scar of the Wen brand. A scar Lan Zhan had put there himself after Wei Ying had died. To remember him. Wei Ying had known this fact for a few weeks now, and it had upset and troubled him to know the depths of Lan Zhan’s pain. He would not have guessed, in his first life, the magnitude of Lan Zhan’s feelings for him. But that brand is very visceral proof. There is no explaining it away, or playing it down. Lan Zhan had burned himself with the brand that Wei Ying had worn on his own flesh. Then he had lived without him for thirteen years.
Thirteen years of being alone. Wei Ying knows loneliness better than anyone – or he thought he had, until he realised how alone Lan Zhan had been all this time.
‘Wei Ying… Wei Ying cannot leave,’ Lan Zhan murmurs, his lips pouting and wet with salty tears. ‘Wei Ying must stay in Gusu – or if not here, anywhere. Wangji will go anywhere Wei Ying wishes. But Wei Ying must stay.’
‘Lan Zhan, of course I will stay,’ Wei Ying hurries to tell him, then kisses the tears from his cheeks. ‘This one will never leave his Lan Zhan’s side. As if you would let me! I think if I ever ran away, Hanguang-Jun would find me anywhere, and tie me up with his forehead ribbon, then do unspeakable things to me until I promised never to run away from him again, eh? Lan Zhan?!’ He grins and nudges against Lan Zhan. He will tease him and provoke him until Lan Zhan stops crying – it’s what he does best after all.
‘But this one would secretly be pleased,’ Wei Ying continues with a cheeky smirk. ‘Because the only reason Wei Ying would ever run away, is so that Lan Zhan will chase him and catch him, eh! You don’t remember when you were drunk that time do you? And made me chase you around the room! But you made it too easy to catch you – ah Lan Zhan it was too cute!
‘So that’s what you have to do ok? If I’m ever not here, you have to come and find me, and then punish me for being so bad, yes?! Promise me Lan Zhan. Because I can’t live without you either you know,’ his voice turns soft and a little serious at the end, because that part is entirely true. How could he ever live without Lan Zhan now?
‘Mn,’ Lan Zhan nods, causing Wei Ying to smile a huge, delighted grin. He is so pleased to see the tears dry, and the desperation drain from his love as it is replaced with amusement for Wei Ying’s antics.
‘I can’t believe you thought I was gone,’ Wei Ying pouts, shifting to a more normal position at the table, then laying out the breakfast dishes. ‘And after I marked you so prettily,’ he smirks, reaching out a hand to peel back the collar of Lan Zhan’s robe and reveal the lovely little bruise he had left there last night.
Lan Zhan’s lips twitch slightly, and his fingers rest over Wei Ying’s, then feel gently at the bruise.
‘I was afraid,’ he admits.
Wei Ying understands. He had been afraid that it wouldn’t be there if he looked. Wei Ying has had enough hallucinations to understand that feeling.
‘I dreamt of Wei Ying,’ Lan Zhan murmurs, his golden eyes looking down at his lap. ‘Many times.’
Wei Ying can guess at the meaning of this too. Lan Zhan had dreamt of him over the years, and awoken believing him to be alive, only to find he was still dead. That must have been what he thought this morning when he awoke to an empty bed. That it had all just been a dream.
Wei Ying can hardly believe it himself most days – he could not have hoped for this in his own wildest dreams back then. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he now knows, he had hoped for this. All those years of their youth when he teased poor Lan Zhan, followed him about, provoked him, tried to impress him – gave him flowers for goodness sake! Without realising it himself, he had been wanting more than he even knew how to want from the other boy. More than friendship. Different than sworn brothers. And thanks to Lan Zhan’s dedication he now has it.
‘Let us eat.’ Lan Zhan’s deep voice has returned to it’s normal clear timbre, and Wei Ying nods with a small smile.
They eat in silence – Wei Ying respecting the Lan Clan rules, and in doing so showing a little of his love for Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan notices that Wei Ying eats his full share of everything, then looks up at him with an almost proud expression. He holds himself back from telling Wei Ying he is a good boy, but projects his pleasure through his expression, certain that Wei Ying can read the minute shift in his face.
‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Ying says, once the bowls are tidied away. ‘I have an idea. Can we go to Caiyi town later?’
‘Mn,’ Lan Zhan nods. ‘We can go anywhere Wei Ying wishes,’ he repeats his earlier sentiment.
‘Lan Zhan!’ Wei Ying grins. ‘You are too good to me.’ Then he jumps up and starts gathering papers and brushes.
‘You should get dressed properly,’ Wei Ying says. ‘What will everyone think, Hanguang-Jun wandering about in only three layers, and without his guan? They will all assume Wei Wuxian is a terrible influence.’
‘Wei Ying is a bad influence,’ Lan Zhan states, but his lip is turned up fractionally and his golden eyes are shining.
‘Aiya! Lan Zhan, does that mean Hanguang-Jun is going to cruelly punish this poor, weak man again?’ Wei Ying pouts. ‘You know that I cannot take your rough treatment of this delicate body.’
‘Everyday means everyday,’ Lan Zhan retorts.
Wei Ying is too happy to have Lan Zhan back to normal to continue their usual back and forth, so he just grins, then hurries over to kiss Lan Zhan on the cheek.
‘I will be back by lunch time,’ he says. ‘I promise I am not going far, but I have to make a surprise for you, to make up for this morning, and you’re not allowed to see,’ he says, clutching the pages to his chest.
Lan Zhan doesn’t look overly happy, but he does not protest, other than to pinch Wei Ying’s bottom hard enough to make him yelp.
Wei Ying keeps his word, and is back in the Jingshi by lunch time. Lan Zhan has mostly recovered from the abrupt burst of emotion this morning, and has properly attired himself, practised his meditations, and attended to some correspondence.
~
Everything is back to normal, as they walk down the paths, out of the gates, and down the mountain towards Caiyi town. Wei Ying chatters away, and Lan Zhan just enjoys the sound of his voice, even feeling a little silly now about his small break-down this morning.
How could he have thought that all of this had been just a dream? Wei Ying is so alive, so vibrant, appearing more real than the world itself some days. Looking back now, it is as if Lan Zhan had been asleep before that spirited young man had come crashing into his life. Perhaps he had, in a way; after the death of his mother, Lan Zhan had closed himself off. He had gone through the motions of life without really living, until Wei Ying had come along and shaken him from his slumber.
Lan Zhan shakes his head minutely at his maudlin thoughts.
‘What is it, Lan Zhan?’ Wei Ying asks. He is always watching, always noticing, every tiny thing about him these days.
Lan Zhan doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t really want to express the silly sentimental thoughts in his head, so he simply gazes back, allowing his lips to turn upwards as they always want to around his love.
Wei Ying’s whole face brightens, and his lips part into a soft smile, which says; I understand, and; I love you too.
Then they are entering the outskirts of the town, passing small huts, and larger walled properties, followed by stone buildings all huddled together, which house tea shops, and haberdasheries, and so on. Market stalls selling trinkets and sweet buns line the sides of the river which winds it’s way through the town, connected by arching stone bridges.
Wei Ying leads the way with determination, uncharacteristically not stopping to look at any of the stalls. After a few turns into smaller side streets, they pause outside a shop nestled between a small bookshop (which Lan Zhan is now aware specialises in spring books,) and a small wine shop selling lesser known local brews, (Wei Ying is quite partial to the plum and loquat wine which he says almost rivals Emperor’s Smile.)
The shop in question has a shade pulled down low over the window, and a board outside upon which are posted many simple, yet well executed, drawings of things such as flowers and dragons. The characters above the door simply spell out TATTOO.
刺青
Lan Zhan looks back at Wei Ying, who has pulled a rolled paper from his sleeve.
‘Don’t feel obliged at all, Lan Zhan, I don’t know what the Lan rules say about tattoos, but I just thought…’ He smiles nervously, and fiddles with the paper in his hand. ‘I know how you felt this morning… I’ve felt like that too sometimes. Like I can’t believe this is real, I can’t believe I actually get to keep you. And sometimes when you’re not there, it’s like… I’m so scared. That I imagined it all or something.’
‘Wei Ying…’
‘Yeah, well,’ Wei Ying smiles and unrolls the paper. ‘What do you think, Lan Zhan, do you like it?’
In the centre of the paper are drawn two rabbits, curled around each other. One black with a white dot, one white with a black dot. Surrounding them are peonies, lotus flowers, and gentians, all interlaced with pale blue and deep red ribbons.
‘Lan Zhan?’
Wei Ying’s eyes are wide; hopeful and expectant, but not demanding. Simply waiting for an answer.
Lan Zhan feels a smile spreading wide across his lips, fed by the deep warmth in his chest, as he looks back at his partner with unbridled affection.
‘Beautiful.’
~~~
3 weeks later
Lan Zhan wakes to cold and dark.
He is alone in his bed. He shouldn’t be alone in his bed… Wei Ying… Wei Ying…
The breath catches in his throat and he presses a hand to his chest.
It wasn’t a dream. Wei Ying is alive. He has proof.
He lights a candle, and perches on the edge of the bed, hands hovering over the lapels of his robes, because – what if. What if that was a dream too. What if he looks and it isn’t there?
Closing his eyes, he recalls the sting of the needle; the delight on Wei Ying’s face when the tattoo artist had realised who he would be marking; the leap of his heart when Wei Ying had sat himself down afterwards and declared: ‘I’m getting it too, then we’ll be matching, Lan Zhan!’
With shaking fingers he parts his robes, and forces himself to look down.
Bunnies, lotus flowers, gentians, peonies, and their ribbons intertwined.
His lungs draw in a deep breath for the first time since waking, his muscles relax, and his heart settles. Lan Zhan traces a finger over the design in the centre of his chest and smiles to himself in the cool dawn light. The tattoo is next to the old brand scar, but the two marks bring such different feelings to his heart. Both created from his love for Wei Ying – but one out of despair, longing, and grief; the other out of joy, understanding, and a promise to always be together. Even when they are not physically near.
His bed is cold this morning, but it will not be for long. Wei Ying is visiting Jin Ling in Lanling with Sizhui. Lan Zhan is to join him tomorrow. Or maybe tonight, if he can get through his work quickly.
With a last look down at the tattoo, Lan Zhan rises and sets to his morning routine.
Good morning, Wei Ying, I will see you soon.
~~*~~